Charlie's Journey

Relationships are complicated and anyone who says differently is full of shit. There is always some battle where one person expects the other person to be something they aren't. Maybe if we learned to just accept things as they are no matter how ugly or unpleasant they may be then we'd all be just fine.

My old man wanted me to be like Nick. Dependable, reliable, puts the family above all else good old Nick. It didn't matter how many trophies or titles I got with all the sports I played, at the end of the day I wasn't enough of a family man for him. I didn't have anything personal against the cafe; I just preferred to be the person on the other side of the counter getting my coffee and scones to go because I was on my way to living life. So for all the screaming girls chasing me around and all the guys trying to be just like me, well the one person I wanted to be proud of me never was. I guess you could say I had daddy issues, mine didn't get me on a stripper pole though.

Drinking was an escape. Drinking was about doing things my way. The coach, the teammates, the girls, my family...none of them could get to me when I was drunk. An occasional escape became a daily thing. It never seem to cause too many issues at least as far as I knew, that is until that day sophomore year away at school. I showed up to a game shitfaced. It was an injury that got me benched, but not my own. As a defender it's my job to guard the goal and back up my offensive players, yet I could barely stand up straight. Overall the day was a blur: he got taken out on a stretcher, my coach saw that I was drunk, hobbling off the ice and never looking back.

Most people would have crawled back home to their loving families with their tails between their legs but I was too embarrassed. Deep down I knew I could only return as a better version of the boy who had left two years before. And I had no idea how I was going to do that. Sobriety was probably a good place to start.

It was music that showed me the way. I ended up at Blues festival in Tulsa working as a roadie for a no-name band. This was where the post cards started. I wrote to Nick in lyrics that described my journey far better than I could have own my own. Then I became a bouncer for a night club in Albuquerque. My family would kill me if they knew at one point I was a barista at a small cafe in New Orleans, the difference was that this place had live music. No matter where I went or what I did it was essential that music was a part of it. A childhood toy had now become my sole companion on my adventures, the little banjo my dad got me so many years back.

It's important I clear up a giant misconception about me, Charlie O'Shay is by no means a womanizer. It's really a half truth at best. There were girls, too many to count, yet none of them had any substance or depth to them. Sex was just sex; a thrill for the moment that left an empty longing for something none of them could give me. Makes me sound like a chick but it's true. Much like my various jobs, when I realized the girl I was with could offer me no more than what she had already given I knew it was time to move on.

After five years on the road it was time to come back. The old clunker took me back to a road not so well traveled, the road back in time. My old man was less than thrilled to hear from me and I had lost touch with all of my high school buddies years back so that left my uncle and aunt. Surprisingly they weren't home, yet the old hide-a-key was in the same place. After nearly twelve hours on the road I was in desperate need of something to sink my teeth into.

She caught me by surprise. Like a bee Katie didn't let her small stature stand in the way of her standing her ground. She wasn't trying to impress me, wasn't intimated by the way I looked, and was completely unlike any girl I had ever met before her. I assumed she was Nick's girlfriend although both have since assured me that there's nothing going on there. Part of me believed there was still more to them then they were letting on.

Relationships are complicated. About four months after I had gotten back my old man had a heart attack. It had to have been the stress of running Banjo's combined with many years of indulging on copious amounts of baked goods. Nick and Katie went to see him at the hospital right away. I stayed behind and it's not because I'm some cold hearted bastard, quite the opposite actually. It was hard to face him after all this time. What do I even say? Maybe I could start with something like "Hey I'm Charlie, remember me?"

In the dark of the living room I sat on the floor strumming the strings of my banjo while humming along. I didn't even hear Katie come in. Quietly she sat down beside me and placed her hand on top of mine. Sometimes you can have an entire conversation without even saying a word. My fingers gently brushed a lose curl off her face. For some reason she wasn't wearing her glasses; good they hid the depth of her eyes. She slowly leaned in inviting me to kiss her. And I did.

Speeding pulses, panting, and other small sounds filled the stillness of the room. Just me, just her, just us. She tasted so sweet. Her nails grazing against my back sent me chills all over. The warmth of her body soothed me. I shut my eyes wanting every other sensation to heighten. I needed this moment to ground me, no more running away. No place had ever felt like home to me, not even the place I had grown up in. Katie felt like home.