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ingridgovaninsights · 7 years

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The Elliott Chapters- Part 7

I woke to the sound of someone pounding on the door. I startled at the noise, jumping up in my bed. How long had I been asleep? I must have been wiped from doing all that running around with my injuries. That was when I realized Charlotte said she would be coming over- she was waiting for me to answer the door! I forgot I’d locked it.

“One sec!” I cried out, wincing in pain. I struggled to get up, and when I finally rose I looked around for my crutches.

I grabbed them- they had been leaning against the kitchen table- and then I gulped down a few pain killers. I really needed to stay on top of that; apparently I wasn’t so invincible after all. I then hobbled over to unlock the door for Charlotte.

She had gotten changed into a red plaid flannel shirt and ripped jeans. Her hair was slightly damp- she must have just gotten out of the shower. She looked annoyed, I think. I’d gotten pretty good at reading her expressions, having known her for so long.

“I’ve been knocking for like, ten minutes,” she said, stepping past me to come inside. “I was worried you’d fallen over or passed out or something.”

“Why would that happen?” I asked, confused.

“Look at you. You’re a mess. What do you mean why?”

She was sassy sometimes. She didn’t put up with my idiotic ways. I admired that. She rolled her eyes at my stupid question and took a seat at the kitchen table. Hesitantly, I took a seat across from her. I suddenly had no idea where to start, or if I should even start at all.

“So, what’s all this about?” Charlotte asked.

“Look…,” I started, avoiding eye contact.

It had never really been my thing- strong eye contact. My mother always used to get mad at me for that: “Elliott, it’s really rude of you to not look your teacher in the eye when he’s talking to you! You’re being disrespectful.” But hey, I can thank my having Asperger’s for that kind of stuff.

Charlotte looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to say what she had made the trip over here for. She must have assumed it was urgent, because she looked pretty anxious; her leg was bouncing. She did that when she got anxious.

“Charlotte, I really like you,” I said finally, staring at the table.

“I like you too,” she said, “you’re a great friend to me, and I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me. You have no idea.”

“You’re a great friend to me”? Ouch… It wasn’t the response I hoped for. My eyes focused on her for a split second then quickly darted away. Couldn’t hold the gaze.

“No… listen, Charlotte… I think I’m in love with you.”

It probably wasn’t something you were supposed to say to someone you weren’t in a committed relationship with. But I didn’t have that filter, I suppose. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized it was likely a bad idea.

Too late.

Charlotte was staring at me, speechless. Her face was flushed, and she was fidgeting. I really wanted to take what I said back, because she was clearly uncomfortable, but at the same time at least I would hear what I needed to hear from her- the truth.

“I know you are,” she said, to my surprise, “but… I can’t say I feel the same way. Elliott, you’re my best friend. You know that. We have a great connection, and we have had many years of friendship. I’m sorry…” she trailed off.

“What about those three months we spent together?” I asked. “When we drove around everywhere, doing all those crazy things? We were practically dating.”

Charlotte bit her lip. “I… feel bad about that. You know, I was in a vulnerable place. I’d just broken up with Ross, my mental health wasn’t in good shape at all… I guess you could say I used you as a source of comfort… and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

“So you don’t want to be with me?”

“I’m sorry…”

I already knew her answer before I asked. I just needed to hear it from her. I don’t really know what the difference was, but hearing Charlotte say it made it final. There was no room for misinterpretation. There was nothing more to be said. I slowly got up from the table and grabbed my crutches.

“Where are you going?” Charlotte asked.

“Nowhere. You’re going. I’m sorry, I just need to be alone for now. I’m not mad… I just need some space. Thanks for being honest with me.”

I walked across the apartment and held open the door for her. Maybe it seemed a bit rude, but one could argue I just had my heart broken. Well, not really. I’m not like that. I’ll survive.

But Charlotte didn’t seem offended. She nodded, like she understood, and headed for the door. She looked at me for a moment, as if she were sad about what couldn’t be, and then she left. It’s fine- you can’t force these things.

The moment the door was closed behind her, I locked it quick and started to cry.

***

(Several weeks later...)

Fuck you if you love a car for its paint job

Love you if you love a car for the road trips

Show me the miles and your arms and the pink scar

Where the doctor had to pull out all the bone chips

Cuz you were pressing on the gas just a bit hard

Right in the moment where the road curved a bit sharp

And when you woke up, somebody was unclipping your seat belt

and pulling you from the open window of your flipped car

The song was “Sloppy Seconds” by Watsky. It was a song I’d heard many times before, a song that Charlotte and I had listened to together as we sped down the highway on countless adventures. We always looked at each other with a smile when it came on- it was pretty much our favorite song for a long time. Now, after my accident, the lyrics had an even deeper meaning for me.

I purposely blasted it as I pulled out of the driveway in my new car. Yes, I purchased a new car with the money I got back from selling the engagement ring. But I’d sold my other two vehicles; I would only need one now. It was about two in the morning- a great time to disappear into the night, because who else would be awake at this hour to stop me? After I had that thought, a second thought occurred to me- no one would stop me during the daytime, either. I didn’t have anyone to stop me.

Victoria was gone; Charlotte and I were sort of distancing ourselves; I didn’t know Jeff well enough to think he’d chase after me; my dad was an asshole and my sick mother was fucking dead. What a great support network I had going for me.

I was feeling a lot better physically- my body had made a fairly speedy recovery- yet only slightly better mentally. I’d been thinking a lot over the past few weeks. For the first time in a long time, I hung around my apartment and did next to nothing. I lazed about on the couch, watching really bad action films, chugging beers until I passed out, and then repeated the process the next day. Eventually, I came to my senses a little bit and realized I couldn’t just sit around on my ass for the rest of my life. I had to take some sort of action. Maybe my lazy time was exactly what I needed to figure stuff out.

I had a vague destination in mind- I knew I wanted to go north. Far, far north. It would be quiet and peaceful. My time off work had run out- but I had enough money in my savings to last me several months if I lived frugally, which I did anyways. Oh, and I rented my apartment out to a couple of girls from my old writing class. So, bam, some extra income. My employer would be extremely pissed off to find out I simply left my job out of the blue, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

Just in case someone randomly decided to give a shit, I powered down my cell phone. If I didn’t use it so much for reading up on the news and using the GPS feature, I wouldn’t have a phone at all. But technology has become too multi functional. Perhaps I could pay off the phone, get rid of my plan, and just keep the phone to use with WiFi? That’s an idea…

I’d driven pretty far north on past road trips, but this was different. I wanted to drive to the furthest I’d ever gone, and then some. That would have to be at least eight hours away… See, many would be shocked by that amount of time, but to me, it’s a pretty small number. Eight hours? Big deal. Driving was therapeutic to me- I don’t know anyone else that devoted more hours into road trips than me.

The next time I looked at the clock on the radio, it was four in the morning. How had two hours passed without my realizing it? Sometimes, when driving, my brain went into autopilot. I knew many of the province’s roads well. When I first started out, I followed a map quite closely. Then it went to me glancing at it once in awhile, and pretty soon I wasn’t relying on anything but memory. People were always impressed by that, but when they looked at me incredulously, I would simply ask, “What?”

The BlueTooth on my car radio played through Watsky’s album dozens upon dozens of times. I was far too out of it to be bothered to change it. Besides, it was good music. Charlotte probably wouldn’t have minded- when she found a song or album she liked, she could listen to it on repeat for hours. She really was perfect…

No, Elliott, stop.

What the hell was wrong with my brain lately? Always idealizing Charlotte, putting her on some sort of imaginary pedestal that would never actually be there. I always called myself a practical guy, but when it came to Charlotte, I just couldn’t find any logic in my thinking. I would just have to force myself to cut it out; I’d gotten myself into an unhealthy thought pattern.

Eventually four in the morning became six in the morning, and then seven, and then eight… and at some point, I stopped knowing where I was.

And it was exhilarating.

#the charlotte chapters #creative writing #writing blog #aspiring author #novella #short story #fiction writing #realistic fiction #watsky #the elliott chapters #mental health #mental illness #anxiety #depression #asd #aspergers

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