Five: Charlie

If anyone asked Charlie what he remembered from the party as his place he would say not much. This wouldn’t be any stretch of the truth. He didn’t recall stumbling in through the front door, tripping over the pile of shoes. He definitely didn’t remember that it was Lucy and Micah that found him and helped him up into the living room. There was no recollection of them propping him up against the wall, hoping he would sober up just a little. They tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t responding. His eyes were vacant and almost bored their their conversation. Lucy laughed and said in her sweet little British accent, “Oh, this is so like you, Charlie.”

He didn’t remember when they left him to join all their friends during the count down to midnight. Lucy and Micah wrapped their arms around each other and whispered ‘I love yous’ in French. They were a cute couple, but Charlie came to for a moment thinking about how sad it was that they weren’t going to last. Someone handed him a shot and it took it before the clock struck midnight.

Charlie grabbed a girl and began to kiss her hard. At first she let him, but made no attempt to kiss him back. When he pulled away for a second she asked, “Aren’t you gay?” When he kissed her again she didn’t hold back. They fell against the wall and touched each others’ bodies without hesitation. None of this Charlie would remember if Parker hadn’t caught it on camera.

Parker also captured the point when Charlie left the girl and found a boy with two shots in his hand. Distracting the boy with a kiss, Charlie slipped one shot from his hand and whispered something into his ear. No one, with the exception of that boy, would ever know what Charlie said that night. Not even Charlie.

Charlie was a mess. He hadn’t shaved or showered. His golden blonde curls were heavy under the weight of their uncleanliness. The red lipstick from the girl he make out with had smudged around his mouth, but he had no idea. His shirt and jeans were damp with melted snow. His hands were red from the cold. He’d come into the house without a jacket, which he had definitely left with. His cellphone was gone too. Neither would be seen again.

No body, not even Charlie, was sure if his condition was only alcohol induced or if there were some chemicals added to the mix. His eyes would focused on nothing. He pulled his pair of aviator glasses from his back pocket and put them on with shaking hands. They had been bent from falling on them at some point during the night, but he wore them any way.

People flocked to Charlie, wanting to know where he’d been, how he was doing, if he wanted another drink. They danced with him and put their lips to his mouth and cheeks. They handed him more drinks and never once thought enough was enough. He was about to take a third shot when Parker walked over and interrupted with a simple, “yo.” Charlie looked up at him. This was something he remembered. He almost wished he couldn’t, but Charlie could recall the entire following scene.

“Charles, where were you?” Parker asked. His voice was sympathetic, but Charlie knew better than that. He kissed Parker on the cheek and said, “Happy New Year!”

Parker returned the kiss and whispered, “Dude, let’s go talk some where.”

Charlie raised his shot glass and said, “There’s nothing to talk about, baby. It’s a new year. Every thing’s in the past now.” He was about to bring it to his lips, but it was snatched from his hand and the glasses were pulled off his face. He glared his eyes at Parker before realizing the only thing in Parker’s hand was his camcorder. The one holding his shot and sun glasses was Stella.

She was wearing an Operation Ivy t-shirt. Chalie knew it wasn’t hers. Her hair was messy, tangled and unwashed. When she moved toward him he took a step backwards. She was mad. Even completely wasted he could see it in her eyes. When she dropped the full shot onto the hardwood floor she ignored Parker’s comment of annoyance. Her stare was focused on Charlie.

The way her eyes were baring straight into him frightened the shit out of the Charlie. He backed up two steps more, bumping into people he didn’t know. Stella just stood there, reading him like she’d always been able to do with such ease. All of his secrets would be exposed if he waited there for just a minute longer. Before she said anything, Charlie turned around and left, stumbling back into the snow. Stella didn’t follow him. When he left, he was completely on his own.