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The Mariners are up three points. Looks like the game isn’t going to be as exciting as he hoped. Charlie takes a swig of beer, resting his head against Billy’s lumpy couch back, and listens to the fizzing sound of Harry’s fish frying in the kitchen.
Billy has been giving him weird looks since he arrived, and Charlie is trying to avoid his pointed stare. Jake lays on his stomach at their feet, chewing on his pencil and looking with a glazed expression at what appears to be math homework spread out around him.
Good luck kid. As soon as they introduced imaginary numbers, I was out. What the fuck is the point of an imaginary number anyway?
Loudly, Billy clears his throat. Fuck me. Can’t we just watch the game? Charlie hates talking about things. And whatever is on Billy’s mind, is bound to not be fun.
“Heard you’ve been gettin close to the new doctor,” well, that hadn’t been what he was expecting. Charlie wills his expression not to change.
“Nice man. Good doctor. New in town, thought I’d make the family feel welcome,” Charlie grunts.
“Hmm. They… I’ve just heard that they might be… different,” what the hell is that supposed to mean?
“Seem nice enough,” Charlie finishes off his beer.
“Well. Just be careful is all,” like Cullen is a fucking mob boss or something.
Charlie nods vaguely and trains his eyes onto the TV. Thankfully, a spectacular hit from the opposing team, with bases loaded, happens. Billy and the distracted Jacob both snap their attention back onto the game.
“Who’s hungry,” Harry’s jovial face pops around the door jam of the kitchen, saving Charlie from any further conversations.
I mean, I know Forks is tight knit, but what the hell?
So he’s making new friends. What of it? The man is a married respectable doctor. They just grab drinks sometimes. Like any friends would. Why can’t Billy just come out and say what he fucking means?
———
When Charlie was in high school, he had been real close to Jimmy Clemmens. Mostly because neither of them had talked much: Charlie because he preferred the silence and Jimmy because he had interests that hadn’t jived with the small town of Forks.
Charlie had been popular enough: on the basketball team, handsome. Jimmy had not been particularly well liked. Charlie had carefully not thought about why.
Sometimes, they would go to the old theatre at Jimmy’s insistence. After college, he told Charlie he wanted to go to California and be a director. Charlie didn’t get it, but he didn’t mind going to the movies with him.
Sitting in the tiny musty Forks theatre, listening to Jimmy quietly explain the camera angles and cinematography choices in the soothing darkness, had been nice. Sometimes their fingers would brush when they both reached for the popcorn, and Charlie would tell himself it didn’t make his skin prickle.
One day, he had gone to school and the place had been all a buzz: “Did you hear about Jimmy?” Nancy Caroll had said during fourth period. “His parents took him out of school and sent him to some kinda camp. For you know,” she had looked significantly at her audience, face aglow with being the first to share this juicy tidbit of information.
Charlie had felt his blood run cold. She hadn’t said it out loud. But he knew what she had meant. One afternoon at Jimmy’s house, Charlie had let their fingers brush for far too long laying on their stomachs on Jimmy’s bed doing homework. He had seen Jimmy’s small smile out of the corner of his eye and had felt his heart beating sickenly in his chest.
“Don’t know what you're talking about,” he had said in what he hoped was a casual tone to Nancy.
He never saw Jimmy again. Word was, his whole family had up and moved, leaving the town temporarily without a pastor.
Charlie had told himself he didn’t miss him, but that was a lie.
———
“You seem troubled,” this fucking guy talks like he is auditioning for some kinda period piece that Bella would like. Wayne’s is busy tonight. Some kinda darts championship.
“It’s nothin,” Charlie sipps the cheap whisky from his glass. “Just thinking about… honesty. I guess.”
“The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —” Carlisle looks pensive, eyes studying Charlie a little too closely.
Charlie chuckles.
“What is it?”
“Nothin. You just reminded me of someone is all,” he thinks about Jimmy’s pretty blue eyes, cornsilk blonde hair, and enthusiasm for film and all things art. He would probably love Carlisle. Two pretentious bastards. Charlie hopes wherever he is now, Jimmy is happy.
“A good memory I hope?” Carlisle still looks a little tense.
“Yah. Yah, it was a good memory,” Charlie finishes off his drink and turns to look at the fools throwing darts. He can feel Carlisle still studying him from the next stool over.
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