St. Martin's Day (Second Draft)

PART 5 - COMING HOME

Finally, finally, finally, the stupid doctors discharge me from this stupid bed, in this stupid room, in this stupid building that is not my house with my sweet Jackie nearby, safe and sound in the shed. However, it didn't feel as agonizing with someone... "watching over me" near the end of it.

I feel so disgusting. Not from this whole incident, but from having to depend on someone to get back to my home. I'm too weak to ride my own bike, and I need to check her out to make sure nothing's been messed with.

Thank God Robin didn't steal my helmet or keys. He's not as big of a douchebag as I thought he was, but I still don't like or trust him.

While we're driving back in Charlotte's SUV, it's hard for me to start conversation because she hasn't said anything for a while. Maybe she thinks I look scary, talk scary and therefore am scary... I mean, I kind of do, don't I? So, I just say what I'm obligated to.

"Thanks... Charlotte. I... didn't think someone would help me. If it weren't for you, I'd literally be dead."

She says back to me, eyes concentrating on the road, "It's okay, Marty. Don't feel obligated. If you need anything else from me, I'm happy to. It's really no issue at all. But you do owe me for calling me a slut."

Oh, no. She called me Marty. Between you and me, I really don't like being called that. That reason stems from stupid people doing stupid things to me in the past. But I'm not gonna tell her that, because then she'll feel bad.

"Oh, please don't feel obligated to take care of me like that. But I think that'll be all for now in regards to recovery. Do I have your number... just in case?" I ask her.

"I think so," she says to me. "But just in case, I'll write it down for you when I'm parked."

So, she writes it on a little post-it now when we park and she hands it to me, a smile forming in the corners of her mouth.

A truck arrives and has dropped off Jackie. A few guys help get her out of the truck bed, and I can't help but run towards her.

"My bike!" I shout. "Thank you so much!"

Charlotte smiles at me and laughs a little, but it's not something pitiful. It looks and sounds genuine. As I cling to Jackie and the men leave, it's just the two of us in an empty parking lot.

"Walk you up?" Charlotte asks me, getting out of her car.

I shrug and nod. "I guess. My coat is all sweaty, though."

She attempts to help me a little but I politely decline. But, the stairs exist, so she has to. She gently puts her hands around my arm, and we walk up the stairs slowly. I have to constantly grab onto her and the railing, but it's a system and works.

At my door, I take a breath to thank her. She replies to me,

"Really, it's not a problem. Maybe we can hang out again, you know... when you're feeling better."

"I guess."

Something new has settled into my heart as I look at her. I just don't know why she's being nice to me. Or why I feel I've seen her before, although she really does look like Robin's girlfriend, Marie. Maybe I have and don't remember, I don't know.

We're at my door with my stuff. I open my door and hang my jacket up inside and stare at her a little. We're speaking with our eyes for a moment.

I extend my hand out. "Um..." I say, "nice to meet you, and, uh... yeah. We can hang out again if you want and I promise I won't almost die next time."

She eagerly shakes my hand. "Sounds great, Marty. I can text you later."

I grin awkwardly as she shakes my hand and actually, sincerely, wants to hang out again. With me. 

"Oh, uh... I don't really like being called 'Marty'. But, uh... you don't have to stop if you don't want to," I say shyly as our hands release. "it's just... reasons."

"I understand," Charlotte replies, "nicknames can be awful if they're meant to be said maliciously."

Boy, I'll say.

"Well, uh... I'll just settle right now, and see you, I guess."

Our eyes meet for one more time as I close the door on her, nearly thinking about leaning in for a kiss. Through my window, I see her smile a bit again. Sometimes I assume she's faking, but I like to think she means it. She talks like she does. My heart kind of swells as I process everything that's happened. 

That night, as I finally settle in my own bed to sleep, I feel as if something inside of me has been opened that was previously locked away for so long.

And it's burning.