Free Obsessive Compulsion by CE Kilgore Page B

you a chance. He really
respects you, you know?”
    “I do,” I nod. “I’m glad he told you. I
didn’t mean to stare, though. Well, that’s not entirely true.” I
sigh. Might as well just say it. “You’re beautiful, Charlotte.”
    Her sharp intake of breath is so loud it
snaps my spine to attention, and I’m immediately flailing again.
“Charlie, I mean. I… awe, hell.”
    “Did Emma tell you?” There’s a strange
inflection in her rasped question, as if my slip had cut something
inside her wide open.
    “Not exactly,” I let the explanation die. No
way was I going to admit to tracking down her University of Dallas
alumni photo from six years ago, the last place she was ever
mentioned as being called Charlotte. Even the charcoals on my wall
from Portland are signed as Charlie McLeod. “Emma did tell
me that you no longer like the name. It’s none of my business, and
I’m sorry, but I think it’s a beautiful name that suits you just as
well as Charlie does.”
    “Thank you,” she relaxes and takes a sip
from her mug. “It’s not that I don’t like the name, it’s just…” She
sets down the mug again, placing her hands back in her lap.
“…complicated.”
    “I understand complicated ,” I attempt
to salvage my billionth screw-up of the night, “and I’ll try to
remember to always call you Charlie, if that’s what you would
prefer.”
    She nods slowly, but I can already tell her
mood has completely shifted. I wonder what about that name has
caused this change in her, and I know I’m going to be obsessing
about it until I figure it out. My heart is telling me to let it
go, but my brain is holding onto it with a death grip.
    She blinks out of her thoughts. “Thank you
for the coffee. I should be getting home, though. I have to go into
class early tomorrow and prep the dyes.”
    Dammit. She gave me a chance – heck,
she gave me chances - and I blew every single one of them. I
stand and nod, walking her to the door. I quietly help her put on
her coat, then I put my last hopes on the table. “Thank you for
coming over. Will I see you tomorrow?”
    Grabbing her purse, she shakes her head. “I
don’t think so. I’m still doing those extra classes for
Pamela.”
    “Right,” I nod and open my front door. I’m
tempted to ask about Friday, wondering if she’s planning to go back
to The Stables or if I’ve blown that, too. “Goodnight,
Charlie.”
    She looks up and smiles, but her eyes are
haunted. “Goodnight, Ian.”
    The door closes behind her, leaving me
alone. Suppressing my uncertain emotions with routine, I clean the
remains of dinner, begin unplugging my appliances and pick up the
book I’d begun the night before. Instead of sitting down to resume
reading it, I stand in the middle of my living room, with a hole in
my sock and a crooked tie around my neck, staring at my Gallery
of Never .

Charlie
     
    ‘ Say you won’t forget me,
Charlotte.’
    ‘ I won’t forget you, Neil, I promise. Now
please, get down.’
    ‘ At least one person will remember me,
because I know you always keep your promises, Charlotte.’

    He’d called me Charlotte. Five years, eleven
months and twenty-nine days ago, he’d called me Charlotte, and then
he’d jumped off a bridge.
    Merry fucking Christmas.
    I thought maybe I’d gotten over it. I
thought enough time had passed. I thought enough had happened in my
life since then to fill in all the jagged cracks left behind by the
parts of my spirit that had jumped off that bridge with him. I
thought wrong.
    Ian had simply called me beautiful, and I
proceeded to flake out on what had become a surprisingly wonderful
evening. He probably thinks it’s his fault. I left him twitching so
I could run away and hide before the tears started. I really like Ian, but I’m not ready to trust him with that part of me
yet.
    I haven’t even told Emma why I don’t like
hearing the name Charlotte anymore. Why I had to repeat a semester
in university. Why I stopped