Charlie – The Start
The heat enhanced every feeling, but reduced clarity. And it was hot. The bare mattress, a surprising and wonderful find, was damp with sweat. At 15 floors up, a sympathetic breeze from the windows brushed her cheek now and then, but it was more of a tease than anything. She slowed her breathing and tried to focus.
Every other quarter inch of fabric in the mattress was silky. She ran her fingers back and forth over it, rough to silk, rough to silk, and repeated her name like a mantra in her head: Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie
– and then a break to listen. After floor 10 the building was empty, from what she could tell. There were rats or something around that size on 11 or 12. Their primal, hungry urges were tickles at the edge of her mind. If she listened hard enough, she could hear even insects. But that took unnecessary effort.
A person was a substantial feeling. Especially Henry. He was 6’2” and meaty, and more importantly, almost always on the verge of rage. When Henry got close, it was like a fist gripping her whole body. He could be in the next room and her jaw would clench in anticipation of his arrival. But he didn’t feel things like she did, and so she had to antennae out her name so he could find her. Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie
– and listen. The distant itching of the rats. The swaying and creaking of the building itself. Old (maybe 100 years?) Brick, cement, soaked full of the vitriol and heartache of hundreds of people. Also their happiness, and passion, but people were mostly shit. Take away those social mores and plastic smiles, and you’re left with raw human. Pretty much different colors of raw shit.
They had met in this same building before. It was cooler, and more full of people. Up the stairs she’d gone, floor after floor, each heavy brown door with its heavy steel handle at each landing an invitation to another set of misery. She’d gone up to 17. The swaying of the building was unmistakable. Through their entire conversation she was distracted, trying to figure out how the building would fall. Would it crumble beneath them in a heap so that they were only halfway buried? Would it topple sideways like dominoes?
– and then Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie
And listen. Under her fingers, rough to silk, rough to silk, resist the urge to pinch them together, rough to silk. What a good find, this mattress. It wasn’t too gross. The nibbling & itching of the rats below. The maudlin, bitter feeling of the mattress and the walls around her if she listened too hard. This time would be the last time. She shifted to be more comfortable but only moved into a slightly cooler pools of sweat, which made it worse.
– Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie
And there he was. Right into the front door, far below. She felt his hand grip the door frame, his foot stamp into dust and dirt on the first step of the stairway. For a moment she just listened and felt. He wasn’t alone, but that was ok. He had another man with him, about his size, but walking behind him. She could feel their silence. They walked quietly one floor up and she felt Henry’s hesitation as he listened for her.
– CHARLIE CHARLIE CHARLIE CHARLIE CHARLIE 15
It felt like screaming at a child, but they started walking up again. She kept it up (CHARLIE 15 CHARLIE 15 CHARLIE 15) and waited, sprawled out on the mattress. It would take them a minute to get to her. She didn’t want Henry to doubt where to go, so best be loud. His buddy didn’t have any touch at all and didn’t hear a thing. Wasn’t there a way to improve your skills? There had to be a way to become more sensitive, exorcises for your brain to get at least a bit better at listening. What kind of person were you to not hear a thing when someone so close was screaming inside their head? Or was he blocking like a champ?
As they rounded the last corner on her floor she felt a bump, a jarring, brilliant bit of life, maybe two floors down. But right beneath her! Immediately beneath her!
She jumped from the mattress and took a squatting stance, one knee toward the pebbly floor. What was that?
And the door opened – that heavy brown door. Henry was 15 feet away from her, near what must have been the kitchenette when running water was still a thing, but she sank like he was pushing her down at her shoulders. For someone with such dark hair he had such light eyes, she thought, just like every time she saw him. She could see the silhouette of his friend in the hall behind him.
Charlie Charlie Charlie
Was he listening?
CHARLIE CHARLIE CHARLIE CHARLIE CHARLIE
What was downstairs? Who was that?
She sank until her haunches were flat on the cheap linoleum and grit.
And Henry spoke.
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