Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 41

I hear his soft voice before I even open my eyes.

“Stella, wake up, baby.” I feel his lips against my neck, and his hands squeeze my waist through the fluffy comforter and sheets.

“Mmm,” I groan, smiling a bit. I barely open my eyes to find my room still mostly dark. By the muted glow coming from my windows, I can tell that the sun has barely risen.

I lie on my side with Charlie’s strong arms on either side of me, holding his body over mine.

“Why are you up so early?” My tired voice comes as a whisper. He is already dressed, the hood of his black sweatshirt pulled over his head. I turn underneath him, so that I’m lying on my back, and reach for the strings that hang from the neckline of his hoodie.

“I wanted to be able to pack the car so you can have more time with your parents. I’m going to go for a short run though, so will you pull out anything you need for today? I’ll take our suitcases down when I get back.”

I agree with a nod and smile, closing my eyes. I’m asleep again before he can even leave my room.

When I do finally rise, I hurry to get dressed and finish packing for our trip. Charlie still hasn’t returned by the time that I zip my suitcase and pull it towards the staircase, leaving it beside his. I delay carrying either downstairs when I smell breakfast coming from the kitchen, and I hear my parents’ muted voices.

Of course, my time that morning flies. My parents are more excited for me than sad to see me leave again, not only because they know I’m going somewhere new, but because they know they’ll be picking me up from the airport in less than a week.

They both remark again about how surprised they are that Charlie would even be taking me on such a trip. I act offended, reminding them that I’m not terrible, but I understand exactly what they mean. They both shove money at me, too, and tell me to keep trying to pay him back, at least for my plane ticket.

As I’m finishing my plate, the back door opens. I hear Charlie stomp his feet against the deck, ridding his shoes of dirt and mud before he comes striding into the kitchen. His breathing is heavy and his nose is tinted red from the chilled, morning air. He passes up on my father’s offer for breakfast, “I’m alright, thank you. I’ll just grab something later, when we’re on the road,” then, he looks at me, “I’m going to load the car. Are you almost ready?”

I nod, offering my help, but he refuses, of course.

Even Charlie’s always-ultra-calm exterior doesn’t hide his haste and rush this morning, and I begin to wonder if this is his normal behavior before a fight. Perhaps this is what his nerves look like in plain sight.

I hate to drag out goodbyes, so I wait until Charlie has loaded our luggage and returned to the kitchen to stand from my barstool and hug my parents.

“We’ll see you on Sunday,” my mom reminds me, and herself, before squeezing me tight.

“Thank you both so much again for having me. Hopefully I wasn’t to much trouble,” Charlie says to my parents, pulling a grin.

My mom goes to give him a hug, rising to her tiptoes and throwing her short arms around his neck. “You’re welcome here anytime,” she says.

Car rides have a calming affect on me – Charlie knows this, I think. I’m blissfully quiet for the first hour of our ride to the airport, listening to our music and playing mindlessly with the ends of my hair. But I can tell that I’m driving him absolutely insane.

“Do you need another drink?” He asks, for the third time.

“No, I’ve barely even had half of this,” I say evenly, reaching for my cherry coke in the cup holder, “If I drink it all at once, I’ll need to pee.”