Ike
Charlotte stared numbly ahead, the room heavy as the weight of her explanation left each of us without words. I watched Axel as he watched her closely, arms crossed over his chest, his face tight as he processed her story, knowing he felt just as helpless as I did.
“That’s all you remember?” Grams finally asked.
Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears as she released a shuddering breath. She’d managed to keep herself together for the most part, but now that she finally remembered the details of what happened prior to her death and purged her story, she was coming undone. “Oh God,” her hand flew to her mouth in agony, “George must have found me…” she trailed off, choking on a sob as she fell against Grams.
I closed my eyes as the pain of her words hit me. Of all the horrendous things she’d recounted, her guilt for what George must’ve felt sent me reeling. If just the thought of finding Charlotte like that was enough to destroy me, I knew my brother was in agony for having actually done it. I rubbed my face with my hands, anxiety setting in as a long-forgotten powerlessness anchored itself in the pit of my stomach.
Charlotte’s lip trembled as she let out a load moan. “Click. Click is still there, trapped.” She stood up, her face contorted in anger as tears ran down her face. “The three months of my life, I’ve made my husband miserable because I just had to save Click, and now she’s trapped there forever. I failed her. I failed him. I failed everyone!” she wailed. Her body convulsed as her breaths caught on sobs. I moved to take her in my arms, but Axel beat me to it and embraced her. I’d seen Charlotte emotional before, but this was something else. This was devastation mixed with self-loathing. This was chaos. Suddenly, she seemed to deflate and, holding her weight, Axel gently knelt, lowering her to the floor and tried soothing her as she cried.
She resisted his comfort, angrily pushing away from him, her face red and streaked with tears, strands of hair sticking to her cheeks. She fisted his shirt. “He found me there! Dead!” she cried. “I knew he didn’t want me to go alone, but I just couldn’t wait. I just knew I could do it myself, and then it would be done, and he wouldn’t have to deal with my bullshit anymore, and we could move on with our lives, but no…I didn’t fix anything, I left him. The last thing he’ll remember of me is that I left him.” She collapsed into him and sobbed.
“Char, it’s okay.” He took her face in his hands. “I know it hurts to think about it, but you can’t do this to yourself. It isn’t your fault.”
“It is my fault,” she argued. “I messed everything up.”
I couldn’t stand back anymore. Axel may be her brother, but this woman was everything to me, and her pain was also my pain when it came to my brother, George. I pulled her from Axel and yanked her to her feet, holding her by the arms. “Stop this!” I ordered, staring her dead in her eyes.
Every person unravels at some point, everyone’s fabric rips and the stuffing begins to come out, and if we’re unable to collect ourselves—stow our tears and contain the hurt—someone else has to step in. That’s what love is. It’s not always a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on; sometimes it’s a kick in the ass. This wasn’t a hold-me-I’m-sad moment for Charlotte. It was an I’m-falling-apart moment.
Her dark eyes met mine, still glassy with unshed tears, as the room fell silent. I was sure Grams and Axel were alarmed by my drastic move and tone, but I didn’t care. I only cared about Charlotte and keeping her from melting into self-hate and guilt. “George will remember that the most amazing woman in the world loved him. He will know you went there because your heart is good, Charlotte. He will know you didn’t do it to hurt him.” I moved my face closer to hers. “I know my brother, baby girl. He’ll forgive you, I promise; he probably already has.”
Her crying waned briefly before she collapsed into me. I held her head to my shoulder as she attempted to calm down. “What if he...what if he uses again?”
My heart squeezed with worry, but deep inside I knew he wouldn’t; I had faith in my brother. People may stumble sometimes; hell, they even fall and lay dead for a while sometimes. People think the measure of strength is determined by those who never waiver, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. True strength is measured by those who hit rock bottom and, instead of losing hope and wallowing in their misery, they fight. Somehow they wriggle on their bellies until they make it to their knees, and they drag themselves to their feet. Somehow, even when weighted with the past of shame and regret, they shoulder that weight and move forward with stunted steps until they find their stride. That’s where real strength lies. George did that. George is the strongest man I know.
“He won’t,” I said firmly. I pulled her from me and held her head in my hands. “You know it, deep down. Here.” I touched her chest. “He won’t.” I held her gaze until I saw she believed it too, then I pulled her into me again. I prayed he wouldn’t make me a liar because I knew if anything could bring him down, it would be the loss of Charlotte.