Charlotte

CHAPTER 2

It's a good thing I like ravioli and will eat it cold out of the can if needs be. I felt a bit bad for Brows. In my childhood, we always made sure dad had the best of everything. His meals were served to him first, piping hot, and exceeded our portions. I always hated that. Always had a fat girl in me, though she didn't surface until years later. Perhaps Brows and Patsy had thought I was muscular. I can see them mistaking me for a muscular woman. Dad was the man of the house, and the breadwinner. Even when mom began to work, Dad still got the best. I suppose it's stayed with me all this time.

Their landscaping business was joint, and I saw both Patsy and Brows get out of their work truck before yanking out Charlotte, she throwing her arms around the collie that snarled at me. Are collies always that aggressive? I've never been afraid of dogs, but I must admit I felt more comforted when the dog was held by it's collar by Brows. All that to say, I'm sure that Patsy is equal in the workload, and even if she isn't it's not like she doesn't make up for it with all the MLM businesses she mentioned. Their house is full of various products. She likely had to resort to buying to meet her quota, but that would be making assumptions on my part.

Regardless, I still felt bad for Brows given that his food was colder than mine, and Charlotte's even more so, though Charlotte didn't wait to start eating even before Brows came in. Neither of her parents seemed to mind, and I suppose that gave me a little bit of relief. There's many things worse than cold ravioli. Brows didn't make a fuss at any rate.

"I ran out of black paint," he pushed aside his bowl with exactly three raviolis left in it. Could he possibly be full? There had only been about eight ravioli pieces each! The temptation to prick them with my fork and eat them was real, and only increased when he stood up. He walked over the fridge, grabbing two beers before looking at me, "Want a beer?"

"No thanks." How gross to drink something that smells and tastes like vomit with ravioli.

"Suit yourself." Brows walked back over, popping the lids to them. He handed one to Patsy before he downed half of his and resumed eating his last three. I guess it's a good thing that I didn't eat them. It would have been embarrassing if nothing else.

Charlotte poked at her food, glancing up at me every so often. She probably thought I was a jerk. I wouldn't blame her. I should have said something. She was quiet the entire time, and it made me think that if Patsy hadn't looked over to catch me eating Brows' last three ravioli, I might have gotten away with it. Charlotte wouldn't have said anything, quiet all this time. Then again, knowing my luck, that's when she would speak up.

I wondered if Charlotte went to school long enough for the teachers to suspect that something was wrong at home. It didn't take a genius, or even have to hear directly from Brows and Patsy's mouth that something was wrong. Charlotte really was the strangest child I have ever seen. An outsider might have though she was simply polite and quiet to the extreme, but those eyes. They haunt me!

"Are you almost done, Charlotte?" I realized then that no one had engaged with her since we sat down for... that snack... it was too little to be considered a meal, at least in my eyes. Once the money started coming in, I'd be buying snacks and sharing when her parents were away with this little girl who wanted so desperately to show me her lip balms.

Two wide eyes looked at me, "I-"

"We'll go see your lip balm sticks!"

Charlotte looked up at me with such surprise it pretty near broke my heart. What was two minutes out of my day to look at lip balm?

With only four bowls in the sink, four cups and four forks, I didn't bother to offer to help with the dishes, instead I reached out for Charlotte's hand, which she willingly took and let her led me into her room.

It was a nice enough room, fitting for a little girl. Against the far wall was a small toddler's bed with pink unicorn bedding. Several toys lay on the floor. By the door was a large white dresser, much too big for a little girl, but who was I to say anything? I looked back down at Charlotte, and she yanked my hand and lifted her free arm in the air. I've been around kids enough to know what she wanted without having to tell me, swooping her up into my arms, surprised how heavy she was. Maybe I am weaker than I've thought! She wriggled, stretching towards the top of the dresser where I had not seen the four lip balms that she was clearly so proud of. She handed two to me and clutched two in her hand, popping off the top of one and dabbing her lips.

"Here," without warning she smooshed it against my lips, a cotton candy mint scent filling the air.

"Thank you, Charlie. It's so nice!" What could I say? Disgusting? How dare you? I don't think I could have even if it had crossed my mind. She was so pleased, replacing the cap. I didn't know if she would have done that for anyone who had given her the time of day or not, but I let myself feel special that she would share something so precious to her with me.

"This one is my favorite," Charlotte had now gotten to the third lip balm, replacing them on the dresser so neatly. She popped off the lid. It was clear that it was her favorite even without her telling me, it nearly empty, and well used. She rubbed it on her lips before pushing it against mine too.

"Oh, it's nice, isn't it?"

"Yes," she agreed, smelling it again, putting her nose on it as she did so before replacing the cap and setting it next to the others. "That one there, I don't like as much. It doesn't smell like anything. But, you can have it-"

"Charlotte! How long are you going to keep Poppy? She hasn't even seen her room yet." Brows turned the corner, standing there with his hand on his hip. He had seemed so docile before, I wondered what made him so snappy. Was Patsy mad at us, sending Brows after us as if sicking a dog on a violent stranger? The only thing I could think of that made sense was that he had drank. Maybe he didn't handle it well. Not waiting for an answer, Brows took the lip balm from his daughter, threatened to toss it out if she didn't behave and replaced it with the other.

I placed Charlotte back on the ground, but still held her hand. She didn't let go either. I suppose it was a sad attempt to let her know that she was not misbehaving and though I didn't have a chance to thank her for considering bestowing me the unscented lip balm, I was appreciative.

All I could do was hope she understood as I followed Brows to the kitchen, Charlotte holding pitifully to my hand.