Page 82 of Mann Hunt
Charlie went to his bedroom and stuffed as many clothes as he could into his backpack. Then he went to the crawl space under the stairs and hauled out his hockey bag. He opened it and saw that everything was there, but from the odour coming from the bag he knew he’d have to freshen some of it up before practice on Monday.
He lugged the heavy bag, three hockey sticks and his backpack to the front door and threw them out onto the porch before he noticed Gran standing in the hall. She looked so small, and her eyes were teary, but there was a smile on her face. He went to her and gave her a big hug.
“’Your time has come, Charlie.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s time to get out there and live your own life. You’re a man now and you have to make your own decisions, good or bad.”
“What if I’m wrong. What if I totally screw up?”
“Then you’ll be just like the rest of us. And don’t forget, when you walk out the door, it doesn’t mean you won’t be back here at some time. They already let you come back once. I know it doesn’t seem like it now,but you’ll be welcomed back with open arms again. They love you. They just have to get used to the fact that you’re your own man now.”
Charlie threw his arms around her again and gave her another kiss.
He loaded the gear into the trunk of The Red Beast, then plopped into the driver’s seat.What next?
He pulled out his phone and called Carrie. The phone rang four times.Please let her pick up.
On the fifth ring she answered. “Hey, Charlie.”
“Where were you last night?” Charlie asked.
“Working late. What’s wrong?”
“Do I only call when something’s wrong?”
“Lately…yes.”
“Can I stay with you for a while?”
“Hmm… Let me think.”
“Sorry. You probably have someone with you. Don’t worry. I’ll—”
She didn’t let him finish. “You idiot, even if I did, you take priority. Now, get your ass over here.”
Charlie drove over and in fifteen minutes was parked in front of Carrie’s house. She greeted Charlie at the door as he waddled up the front steps, unbalanced by the bulky hockey bag and gear.
“Crap. How much stuff do you have?”
“This is it.”
Carrie gave Charlie a hand carrying the sports bag up to her second-floor apartment. Once upstairs, she dropped it in the middle of the living room.
“Before you say anything, I’m pouring the wine.”
Carrie lit a few candles and turned off the overhead light. The next hour flew by as Charlie filled her in on what had happened over the previous week, and what was going to happen next as they polished off severalglasses of wine. Charlie finished by lifting his shirt and showing Carrie the bruises on his chest that were beginning to turn purple.
“Oh my God!” she said. “I know you think Declan’s the hottest guy on the planet, but is he worth it? Your folks are right. This job is dangerous.”
Charlie frowned. “Your role right now is to support me, not to agree with my parents. That’s what a best friend does.”
“A best friend tries to stop you from getting killed. Come on. It’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”
As they headed off to Carrie’s bedroom Charlie asked, “Can we do some laundry tomorrow?”
“We? Yes,youcan. And while you’re at it, you can do mine as well.”
