Page 74 of Pages of My Heart
Thomas looks away because that one cuts deep. It’s not like Charlie doesn’t ever call him O’Reilly anymore. He does, but only when they’re out in public and pretending to be friends.Neverwhen they are alone. It’s a loaded weapon. Thomasreturns to the kitchen, leaning on the sink and praying for guidance.
Not a minute passes before Charlie calls out from the dining room, his voice taunting and bitter. “So you finally agree that I’m a fuckin’ cripple?”
And that’s the last straw. “I donotthink you’re a fucking cripple,” he yells, storming back into the dining room. “The only person who thinks that isyou!” He pokes Charlie hard in the chest with his finger. “So why don’t you quit feeling sorry for yourself and go down and see Jimmy? Maybe he’ll offer you a different job. Maybe the boys would like to see you. Maybe you should be fucking grateful you’re not six feet under like so many other men!”
“You don’t know shit, O’Reilly. You weren’t there.”
“Well, you’re not there now either. You’re righthere.” Thomas slams his hand down on the table. “You and me, in this house. Do you want to be back there, or do you want to be here with me?” Thomas crowds Charlie, leaning over and looking him dead in the eye. “Because right now it feels like I don’t matter to you anymore. And that nothing I do is good enough.” He backs away, his anger giving way to hurt. “I’m going to take a walk before I say something I’ll regret.”
Thomas walks for half an hour and ends up outside Evie’s house. He’s ashamed of his behavior and feels wholly unequipped to handle Charlie’s pain. After hovering at the gate for a few minutes, he decides he shouldn’t air their dirty laundry to Charlie’s sister, no matter how much he needs someone to talk to. The walk back home almost turns into a run, the unease in his gut increasing with each passing minute he remains away.
When he approaches their house, he sees Charlie sitting on the front step, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looks wornout, and Thomas is flooded with feelings of guilt, knowing he added to Charlie’s burden because he lacked restraint. Because Charlie is right—he doesn’t know shit about what it’s like to fight in a war.
Thomas makes it all the way up the path before Charlie looks at him. He’s about to apologize when Charlie stands, flicks his cigarette aside, and uses his good arm to pull him into a hug.
“Sweetheart, Idowant to be here, and you matter more than anyone.”
He holds Charlie tight to his chest, his muscles unknotting with relief. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I love you.”
Before making their way inside, they scan the street to be certain no one was watching. Then once behind closed doors, Thomas takes a seat in the sitting room.
“I wish I didn’t have to return to work tomorrow. What if you need me?”
Charlie settles in the other armchair. “Isn’t Evie coming ’round to help me with lunch?”
“Yeah, she’ll come by Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to make you lunch and check that you’re doing okay. It’ll be nice for you to spend time with Jonathan, too. Lucky you always take a shit first thing in the morning—you wouldn’t want your sister having to help you with your pants.” Thomas smiles, hoping Charlie will laugh.
“She probably wouldn’t even bat an eye after changing Jonathan’s diapers all day long.”
They both laugh, and Thomas feels some of the tension in the room start to recede. “You know, I’ve changed a few. It’s not for the fainthearted, that’s for sure. But he’s a beautiful baby. You’ll love him once you get to know him a bit.”
“Thank you for . . .” Charlie doesn’t finish his thought, his eyes dropping to his lap.
“For what?”
“For looking after Evie and Jonathan while I was gone.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I think of Evie as my sister and Jonathan as my nephew.”
Charlie massages his bad hand, kneading his thumb into the palm. “She told me she couldn’t have managed without you when Richard first left.”
“Charlie, I was glad to help. But Evie is strong, like you. Now, Tuesdays and Thursdays—did you decide what you want to do?”
“I’ll head around to Ma’s on those days if I need any help. It’s not a long walk. Nothing wrong with my legs.”
Thomas lowers his eyes down to Charlie’s legs. “Nope, definitely nothing wrong with those gorgeous gams.”
Charlie smiles coyly. “It’s not even noon, Tommy.”
“But it’s our last day together before I go back to work. Actually, let’s do your exercises first.”
“Can’t that wait?”
Thomas knows Charlie is avoiding his exercises, but he lets it go. The last thing he wants is a repeat of this morning’s argument.
Day 14: Charlie
It’s eleven o’clock on a Thursday morning when Charlie wrestles the whisky bottle out of the paper bag, wedging it between his legs so he can get it open with one hand. He takes a long pull straight from the bottle. Things took a turn onTuesday, and the alcohol helps him relax, helps him sleep, and, most importantly, helps him forget.