Charlie's Angel

6

Charlie

I couldn't sleep and eating made me sick. Paris moped around the house and her teachers at daycare asked me if everything was okay at home.

I lied to them.

Aaron had been gone for two days, making today Wednesday. He never came home, leaving me and Paris on constant edge in fear of him coming back. But he never did.

But that didn't make me feel any better.

Nightmares haunted whatever shut eye I was able to get, but Paris mostly just cried until her cries lulled her to sleep. I had never seen her so heartbroken. She was literally in shambles because of what her father said about her. And it broke my heart so see her like this. She didn't want to play with any of her toys, cried when I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and just wanted to lay with me and watch TV all day. She was barely eating, too, and I didn't know what to do.

I nearly shit my pants when Chris called me on Monday. I hadn't heard from him in almost a month and I got worried about him, thought about him often. I kinda thought he forgot about me—wouldn't be the first time. When his name flashed on the screen of my phone I was in Paris's closet with her sleeping on my chest, just crying myself dry.

He offered to treat me to ice cream and I took him up on it, silently thanking him for being my outlet.

So now it was Wednesday and I was laying in bed staring at the ceiling. I was watching the fan spin on the fastest speed. And a part of me wanted it to crush me and kill me. I wondered what it would be like to die. To just have everything be at peace. Not have to worry about shitty husbands, paying bills, working a suck-ass nine-to-five. Oblivion sounded nice right then.

My phone rang, bringing me back down from wherever the hell I was. It was Chris, and my heart rate sped up unknowingly. I swallowed hard. "Hello?"

"Hi, beautiful," he said softly. I breathed a sigh of relief, it was good to hear his voice after all this time. "Have you smiled yet today?"

"No, Chris," I muttered, fighting the urge to smile. Damn it. "I haven't smiled in two days. And you're lame, you know that?"

I could tell he shrugged me off, chuckled. "I've been told. We still meeting at one-thirty?"

I deliberated my options. Did I want to see him? Yes, of course. I hadn't seen him in three weeks, and that's a long-ass time. He was starting to be my friend, and at the moment I needed my friend. The downside of this, however, was that I would have to hear his mouth about my bruises, black eye, and somewhat swollen lip. And I really didn't want to hear it, that's why I hadn't been to Sam's house.

I looked at the time—11:43am—and sighed. Too late to cancel. "Sure. Where do you wanna meet?"

"Uh," he trailed. "It'd be just you and me, unless you have Paris. Isaiah is with my mom for the week. Is that okay?"

Sly, Chris, very sly. "Yeah, Paris is at daycare. I'm supposed to be at work, but I called in sick."

"Why you do that?" he asked softly, clearing his throat. "If you don't mind me asking."

Ha. "Just wait until you see me, Chris," I scoffed. I rolled outta bed and trudged to my closet to attempt the difficult task of finding something decent to wear. I threw stuff around my floor, huffing from exertion. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Painting," he said simply. "I got an art show in a few weeks and so far I have one piece done. I would have all three of them done but I have a four year old nephew bouncin' off the wall and shit."