She Goes Away

Fred Aveneer

She looked like an angel, stepping out of the car. And as she approached, turned into an angel of war." What do you think you're doing, Charlene? You scared Dad and I out of our wits. Come on now, and get up off the ground."

I groaned my way to standing and swiped the blades of grass and pebbles off my arms and legs.

She rushed me into the car and leapt in after, slamming the door.

"How did ya know where to find me?" I asked.

"Believe it or not, Jack phoned us." Her face stoic, eyes wide. "He garbled something about you wanting him to come and get you; that you may be in danger at a stranger's house. I had a feeling you were trying to get to his place."

I ignored her answer, and before she pulled away from the side of the road, I piped up, "Wait a minute. Don't wanna forget my dog." I got out of the car and opened the back door. After one whistle, he tramped on the seat and laid down. "Good boy, Dozer."

"Charlene?" she said, tears pooling on her lower lids as she glanced behind.

I got back to the passenger seat thinking about how Charlene didn't want to be here no more. Didn't want to be a messed-up teenager, ostracized for her color. Who let clouded impulses guide her and put her in danger. Such an irresponsible girl obsessed with Jack. I hated him and how much he wrecked her. I tried reasoning with Charlene in her head how he was just a punk, only worthy of a kick in the arse. She forced me back. Hell, bled to keep me away. So, because she wouldn't listen, I had to scare it outta her. I had to take over."The name's Fred Aveneer. You 'member, right? I reckon I didn't come out much. But now that Charlene died in an accident with a Ford truck, you'll be speaking with me from now on."

Charlene's mom held a tremulous hand over her mouth.

"Don't be a-feared. She went very peacefully. Didn't feel a lick of pain."

The rest of the night we hardly spoke. I felt uneasy with the silent sobs she tried masking. Was never good with the mushy stuff. We weren't headed back to Charlene's home, nor the town in which she got raised. Instead, drove further out.

"I remember you telling me that you like Bill Wither's. Right?" she said, slightly defeated.

"Oh yes. They don't make music like that nowadays."

She popped in his CD. I listened to Ain't No Sunshine on repeat. "Wonder this time where she's gone...wonder if she's gone to stay," I caterwauled.

An hour and a half later, in a bustling city with tall buildings and cars whipping by, we stopped in front of a place somewhat familiar to me.

"This is where I live, right? Don't seem to have the recollection I once did as a young whipper-snapper."

"Yes."

"Guess I best say goodbye, then?"

Charlene's mom gently stroked my head, bawling now. "Y...yes. It's goodbye...for now." She turned away from me to look out the window, a vague expression painted on her face. "Charlene is coming back, you know. She isn't gone to stay. Not if my prayers have anything to do with it."

"I'm real sorry to say it, mam, but she ain't coming back this time 'round," I said, putting a firm hand on her shoulder. "But do visit me when ya got the time. I enjoy shooting the breeze."

"I won't believe it. Charlene is alive." She took my hand and squeezed so hard my knuckles cracked in pain. "My daughter's a fighter, like me. And you better believe I'll come visit, yes sir, but it won't be to see you. It'll never be to see you."

I wrung my hand when she set me free and exited the car humming something new that abruptly sprung up within. A cheery lil' ditty that didn't even appeal to me. Yet, I couldn't stop. When I let Dozer out, Charlene's Mom stepped halfway out of the car and stared me down. "That...that sounds like One Love you're droning. I sung that to my girl when she was just a baby." A glimmer of hope appeared in her eyes. "I'm going to hang on to that. You hear me? I'm hanging on to that."

Sticking my hands in my jean jacket pockets, I turned my back to her, aggravated by such silly persistence. I felt weakened. Less powerful. A minute later, two kind-looking men, like bell-hops to a grand hotel, greeted me in clean, white frocks that smelled of bleach. "I got no bags to carry today, fellas. I can take it from here," I said.

"Fair enough, Charlene," the one with white-blond hair said.

"Uh...you mean, Fred."

He just shook his head, and led me along.

The men followed behind as Dozer and I sauntered up the long cement pathway and through the glass, automatic doors.

THE END

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Hello readers,

Thank you for following Charlene's story; one of pain, mental illness, spiritual oppression, and yet hope. Even though it's not unbeknownst to us all, I felt it important to speak on the issues of how damaging abusive relationships can be. In light of the many who have suffered, please hold on. Know you are loved and there is someone out there willing to help. You are not alone. God bless.

Love Holly Ducarte