Between the Stars

Chapter Eight

For the rest of the week, all Sam could think about was what happened at the lighthouse. He still wasn't sure what he'd done was right. It seemed like it had helped at the time but still he wasn't sure if he'd done it for closure or if he'd really lost his marbles. It didn't help that his next therapy appointment was several days away, so he just had to let all his loose thoughts rattle around inside his head without Marlene to help to organize them. And he certainly wasn't going to tell his parents what he'd done. Maybe Charlie could have helped him figure it out, but he hadn't seen her in days and he was almost glad for it. She'd meant well, but a small part of him couldn't help but be a little annoyed.

It's not her fault, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time that week. She wasn't responsible for the way his mind worked. Nor was she responsible for keeping him from doing anything stupid. It was exhausting, fighting constantly against the voice inside him that wanted to blame her and be done with it. It would be so easy to be mad at her. But she didn't deserve that. She wasn't the one he was really mad at, anyway.

"You've got another letter," his mom told him when he finally emerged from his room that morning.

She slid it over the table absently as she read something on her laptop. She didn't need to tell him who it was from. He scooped it up and unfolded it to read the familiar loopy handwriting.

11am at Morris Park?

He turned it over in case he'd missed something, but that was it. He stared at the words as guilt gnawed at him. It was a simple question, but that single piece of punctuation at the end conveyed her hesitation all too well. It wasn't like he'd been ignoring her on purpose, but he hadn't exactly reached out either.

The voice in the back of his mind hissed at him to ignore her call, to punish her for daring to make him break like he had. He lowered the letter, almost giving in, but he couldn't take his eyes off that little question mark. She wasn't asking if he'd meet her there. Not really. She was asking if he'd forgive her. He'd thought about it all week, and in truth he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't forgive her— because there was nothing to forgive.

"I'm going to meet Charlie." He stuffed the paper in his pocket and checked the time.

"I figured." His mom glanced up with a knowing smile. "Have fun."

***

Charlie sat atop a giant rock in the center of the park, sprawled out in the sunshine. Her turquoise sneakers caught Sam's eye as he crossed the road and made his way over to her.

"Why do you sit everywhere except where you're supposed to?" He asked.

Charlie lifted her head lazily, as though she'd been napping. Sam nodded to the bench right next to her and she settled back against the rock, unbothered.

"I'm sorry, Sam, I'm not sure if you've met me but I don't really like doing what I'm 'supposed to' all the time. And besides, this is more comfortable."

Sam looked around the park as the silence stretched between them.

"So did you ask me to come here just so you could show me this rock, or...?"

Charlie let out a gentle sigh and sat up, swinging her legs around to face him.

"I mean, it's a nice rock, but no," she replied. "I owe you an apology."

Sam shook his head. "No you don't, you—"

"Sam, I'm going to apologize anyway so would you please just let me?" She interrupted.