Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 36

“Hello,” Charlie nods politely, offering his hand to Mrs. Little. She shakes it quickly and nervously, Charlie not caring to keep control.

Attempting a friendly smile, she turns towards me again, “Is this – I guess this is your boyfriend?”

I only think for a second before I answer, “He is. He lives in Clemson as well,” and I smile back at her, keeping my lips tight, as if to stop myself from saying too much.

“Are you just visiting together? Or are you from someplace close?” Mrs. Little asks Charlie without eye contact.

“I’m here with Stella,” Charlie says, his voice soft and gentle. I know he must be uncomfortable, knowing everything that I’ve been through with this woman’s son. I’m thankful for his agreeable, mature attitude now, because I know he won’t do or say anything irrational.

“You know, it’s been so long since… everything happened between you and Jason. I know he’d really love to see you. Maybe we could all get together sometime over the holidays.”

“Jason has seen me recently, actually. Did he not tell you? He visited Clemson just last weekend.”

“Oh,” her eyes widen, “I– I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

I give Jason’s mother a solemn nod, willing her to know that while yes, I was unpleasantly surprised, her son hadn’t caused any trouble, thanks to his friend’s interruption, anyway.

“Your mom is expecting us,” Charlie interrupts in an almost whisper, turning and bowing his head towards me.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I take his hand. “It was nice to see you,” I tell the woman before quickly pulling Charlie away, not giving her a chance to speak about a reunion again.

When we near the checkout, I whisper to Charlie, “I’m sorry. What she lacks in self-assurance, she makes up for in audacity. I wouldn’t think of meeting up with him again.”

Charlie doesn’t have time to respond before I’m handing the bag of chips to the clerk and pulling out my cash. Charlie stays quiet beside me at the checkout, not even offering the clerk a “thank you” or “good day” when we exit the counter, proving his shock. It isn’t until we’re in the car that he speaks to me.

“That was –”

 “Strange. I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It isn’t your fault. I just – I didn’t know what to say.”

“I know. I always felt the same way with his parents. It’s like when you have an issue with company policy and you’re speaking to a phone operator, you know? They aren’t to blame; they only have so much control over the company. That’s probably a bad comparison.”

“No,” he nearly laughs, “It’s a very good one, actually.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel like you need to defend me, anyhow, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Glad to be let off the hook,” he huffs, implying the same response that I usually have when I’m told not to worry about him.

I continue to direct him towards my house until finally, we’re driving up the long, gravel drive lined with woods on one side and an open field on the other.

“My house is just up there,” I point ahead, though you can’t see it yet. Not until we’re clear of the woods can you see my home, tucked brilliantly away and preserved in its quaint and simple glory.

“It reminds me of my aunt and uncle’s,” Charlie smiles fondly.

I show him where to park, and before the car can come to a complete stop, my mother is opening the front door.