Page 77 of Degrees of Control

“When?”

James didn’t answer, which was the answer. Charlie dressed, tears running down her face in slow trails and walked toward his front door. It clicked shut behind her, irrevocably separating her from the lovely, lonely man inside.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the varnished wood. “I really hope you’ll be okay.”

Chapter 21

No one told him getting dumped was like having a socket wrench embedded in your chest then ripped out again.

Yeah, well, no one told you a yoga teacher could be a masochist, so let’s not act like we had a plan here, asshole.

He was drunk. Again. After Charlotte left, his anger turned into boiling emptiness, and that emptiness lent itself to a bottle. He wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been sitting in his leather recliner listening to every album he had, but the sky outside went light and then dark again.

I was fine before that woman came along and started asking a lot of questions I didn’t want to answer.

Well, problem solved, because Charlotte wasn’t coming back. Even if she was coming back it wouldn’t be to confess her love to a directionless, abuse-repressing alcoholic. She’d probably just be making sure he hadn’t died. Which was fine because he didn’t care. He was going to move on. He didn’t have the best track record when it came to commitment, or much of anything, but somewhere in the back of his mind he’d known a woman might take him down eventually. He just thought it’d be a feisty, debutante type who got wet for diamonds. His next woman would have blonde hair and blue—no, brown eyes. She’d be six feet tall with long-ass legs, and when he told her he loved her she’d cry tears of happiness instead of trying to confront him about his so-called issues. They’d have a house with a big backyard and kids he could teach to drive. The American Dream or some shit. Charlotte would be fine. She’d marry the CEO of Greenpeace and the guy would take her last name and they’d have eight kids that looked like elves. He laughed and his head swelled with liquor.

God, I’m fucked-up.

James wished Charlotte was here to ease him through the pain of not having Charlotte. She could curl into his chest and tell him stories and he’d finally be able to fucking relax. He’d touch her hair and talk to her about his family and her family and the future. He’d say all the things he’d been feeling the past eight weeks without stumbling. Then later, if she wanted him to morph into a big bad asshole and fuck her against a wall, he would. He could learn to be the two men she wanted instead of just a lost, thoughtless prick. Whoever said things couldn’t be two things?

Voices he’d been ignoring for far too long rattled through his mind.

Why’d you scare her off? Because of that shit that happened when you were fourteen, the shit she guessed you were hiding already? The shit you might as well have told her?

This isn’t about what happened with Meghan, James told himself.This is about me and Charlotte being as compatible as chalk and rocket fuel.

I couldn’t help falling for her, she was so goddamn perfect. Anyone like me would have gotten pulled in by someone like her.

Charlotte’s tear-streaked face swum in his mind.‘How would I ever feel close to you?’she’d asked. He wanted to tell her she’d been closer to him than anyone before her, but he knew that wasn’t the point. He couldn’t give her what she wanted, because it was everything. She wanted everything and somehow he’d always known that.

James must have dozed off at some point because when he snapped to attention it felt like someone had dropped a bowling ball on his head. He checked his phone and saw it was Wednesday morning. He’d been sitting in his house wasted for two days. He had forty missed calls and fifty texts from work, friends, his brothers, his sisters, his mom, girls looking to fuck, everyone in the whole wide world except Charlotte.

Jesus Christ.

He lay in his chair for a moment, planning his next move. He’d waded into self-pity thinking he could swim to shore when he was ready. One thing was clear, he’d drown out here by himself.

So what now, Jimmy-Boy? What’s your big plan?

James downed a couple of aspirin, ordered a pizza, and dragged his ass to the shower. The hot water made him feel clammy and he threw up. His food arrived and he gave the freaked-out-looking kid a fifty. He could only choke down a couple slices before retching once more. He staggered to his bedroom and let the hangover wash over him in throbbing waves.

It was near dusk by the time he was sober enough to drive. He jumped into his truck, the big shiny thing Charlotte thought was ridiculous, and headed for his sister’s house. Kelsey’s wife Debbie greeted him at the door. To her credit, Debbie didn’t ask why the fuck he’d showed up hungover on a Wednesday night. She pointed him down to the back paddocks where Kelsey was helping her kids brush down their ponies. As soon as they saw his hungover ass, Angus and Isobel came bolting toward him screaming, “Uncle Jamie! Uncle Jamie!”

James knelt down, tucked a kid under each arm and spun them around. For the first time since Charlotte left, he felt almost good.

The kids were laughing and squealing, but Kelsey just stood there, currycomb hanging loosely by her side. She already knew he’d fucked up somehow, she’d always been good at that. Kelsey told the kids to get off Uncle Jamie and go get ready for bed. Once they were gone, she pulled him into a short tight hug. People could always tell he and Kelsey were related. They had the same big shoulders, hazel eyes, and were within an inch of each other in height. When they were younger, he used to pretend she was his twin. Kelsey led him to her front porch and offered him a beer. He refused, his eyeballs were dry and he could hardly smell alcohol without heaving. She returned with a bottle of Millers for herself and after taking a few swallows, turned to him, a gruff expression on her face. “What can I do for you, Jim?”

Suddenly James wished he’d accepted the beer just to have something to do with his hands. He cleared his throat a couple of times and found Kelsey was still staring at him. “Jamie?”

“We were close once, weren’t we?”

If he looked half as uncomfortable as Kelsey did when someone asked her personal questions, it was a miracle Charlotte ever said anything to him at all.

His sister stared out at the paddock before them. “Yeah, we were close.”

“Growing up…was I a dick?”

Kelsey sighed. “Please tell me you didn’t drive all the way here to ask questions you already know the answer to.”

---