What Happened to Charli

Four

     The days passed in a blur. I was always exhausted, as soon as I got home I leapt into bed and slept until the my alarm rang for school the next morning. It wasn't until Thursday that I snapped out of whatever brain funk I was in. 

     A letter came addressed to me.

     From the Williams. 

     My heart jumped as I pulled out the nice cardstock, green vines and nice print told me they were holding a funeral for Charlotte on Saturday at two. 

     Charlotte. She hated that name. I closed my eyes and leaned back into the couch, a memory burning my eyelids.

     Her long brown hair was in a ponytail, her freckles popping more because of the sun. We sat in the shallow water at a beach, our parents camping together with other friends. "Charli, short for Charlotte or just Charli?"

     "Short for Charlotte, I hate it though. Please just call me Charli." I nodded.

     "There isn't a nickname for me. I'm just stuck with Asher." She smiled and I couldn't help but stare. 

     "I like your name. Asher. Maybe one day your wife will call you Ash." She shrugged and my heart thudded. Wife?

     "I like that. Ash."

     She squinted as the clouds parted and the sun shone directly on us. "It's nice. But, it's only meant to be for someone who is special to you. Not someone who will come and go from your life, ya know?" I nodded, not really understanding. "Like, don't let your friends call you that. Just let someone who you truly love call you Ash, otherwise is loses it's personable affect." I nodded again, heart sinking and beating fast. I so badly wanted her to call me Ash. Something only she could call me, no one else. And when someone did try to call me that, we would correct them. 

     I opened my eyes and sighed. This heavy cardstock for a funeral? Do people do that? I looked down at it , seeing the intricate designs. You just lost your child and your first two steps are to complain about people bringing you food and designing funeral invitations? 

     Two days from now. Two days and I'll be in her home. I'll see her parents and how they act. I might see Dana and Kirsten. 

     I sat up straight, a thought hitting me. Charli kept a diary. I remember her carrying one around the campground. "I like writing my thoughts and feelings down." She explained to some girl who camped with us. Did she keep up with it? Did her parents already clear out her room? I stared at the card, the funeral taking place at her house. So no open casket? Was there anything left of her to be seen? Did her parents even get closure? 

     I heard the garage door open, dad is home. I got up quickly and went into my room, the cardstock weighing a ton in my hand. 

     I couldn't get over it. I couldn't sleep, I was awake when my alarm went off for school. I was a zombie full of rage and confusion. I knew Charli didn't exactly get along with her parents, but she still seemed fond of them. Eager for them to see her at cheer, to see her paintings she made in art class. They had problems. Every family had problems. Some more than others. My dad was a narcissist and my mom an empath. It made for some intense fights, mostly on his part.

     The whole school was a buzz full of who got the invite. Apparently, only a few of us did. "The invite was beautiful," I heard Kirsten say casually as she walked past. Was that it, then? Did people really only care about the details? Her supposed best friend is dead and she's impressed with what her mom cooked up in the form of invitations? At the end of the day, I concluded only six of us got the invite. I didn't announce mine, I wasn't happy to be attending. I knew I had to, I had to read through her journal.