{"id":794,"date":"2014-05-08T23:14:26","date_gmt":"2014-05-08T23:14:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jenfrederick.com\/?p=794"},"modified":"2014-05-08T23:14:26","modified_gmt":"2014-05-08T23:14:26","slug":"charlotte-xxviii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/charlotte-xxviii\/","title":{"rendered":"Charlotte XXVIII"},"content":{"rendered":"

Nate doesn\u2019t text me until the early evening hours. The seven hour time difference usually means I get a text in the middle of the night which I read in the morning and then one when Nate gets up in the morning which is about tea time here.<\/span><\/p>\n

I wonder all day whether Nate will bring up the party or whether I should. Mom gives me covert stares of worry as I pick at my food at lunch. The pale light of twilight settles in before I finally get a text only its not Nate, but his brother.<\/p>\n

We partied late. Didn\u2019t get to sleep until three this morning. Go easy on him.\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

Miss you, boy. Heard you were coming over for my birthday.<\/i><\/p>\n

After, I think. Have baseball. When will you be back?<\/i><\/p>\n

Aug or Sept. Things are going well.<\/i><\/p>\n

Great. We\u2019ll have a rager when you get back. c ya soon.<\/i><\/p>\n

Nate\u2019s texts followed on the heels of Nick as if Nick told him it was safe.<\/p>\n

Sorry I didn\u2019t text you this morning. Slept in. Epic headache.<\/i><\/p>\n

From an epic hangover?<\/i><\/p>\n

How\u2019d you guess? Nick?\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

No. North Prep telephone ring.<\/i><\/p>\n

Milhawk\u2019s basement. Had to do the shots that Nick couldn\u2019t. Keeping him on the straight and narrow.<\/i><\/p>\n

Sounds fun. <\/i>Three texts. No mention of the picture.<\/p>\n

Missed you.<\/i><\/p>\n

Me too.<\/i><\/p>\n

Let\u2019s Skype later. What time?<\/i><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t want to. He didn\u2019t bring up the picture. Maybe he\u2019d been too drunk and he didn\u2019t even know it was taken. Maybe. Whatever the excuse may be, my feelings are still hurt and I want time to get over it. I didn\u2019t want to be that<\/i>\u00a0girl who was jealous and clingy and needy. Not only would Nate not like that but I wouldn\u2019t have much respect for myself. So until I can get into the right frame of mind, I don\u2019t want to talk to him in a setting where I\u2019m apt to blurt out some baseless accusation.<\/p>\n

Can\u2019t. Treatment. Studies. In fact, I\u2019ve got to run.<\/i><\/p>\n

Sorry C. Should\u2019ve gotten up early. Know that\u2019s the best time for you.\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

It\u2019s okay. Love you.<\/i><\/p>\n

I power down my phone so I\u2019m not tempted to read any responses.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going down to the game room,\u201d I tell my mom. She waves a pen at me. All this technology and she still marks up reports with a pen.<\/p>\n

The hotel is adjacent to the hospital and many of the patients and their families stay here. There are mostly two or three room suites or mini apartments along with an indoor pool, gym and a game room for the kids.<\/p>\n

\u201cNew girl,\u201d a voice barks when I walk into the room. The game room contains arcades, a pool table, and multiple televisions with different game consoles and, the favorite, a virtual reality room. It\u2019s everyone\u2019s preferred location not only to communicate with friends and family but to game play.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou there,\u201d the voice calls again. I turn and see a boy about my age sitting in a lounge chair just outside the VR room. I haven\u2019t seen him before so he <\/i>must be the new person.<\/p>\n

Despite his rudeness, I stroll over because I\u2019m one of the oldest of the under eighteen set. Most of the kids here are younger which makes it both bittersweet and a bit boring. Insolent or not, he\u2019s more intriguing to me than the rest of the crowd.<\/p>\n

As I draw closer, the fine features under his beanie cap look very familiar. “Oh, wait aren\u2019t you\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

Before I can say his name, though, he cuts me off. \u201cYes,\u201d he says with an imperious wave for me to come forward. Like royalty, I guess he expects me to genuflect or something. \u00a0\u201cWho are you?”<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve never been this close to someone famous. There were a few times we sat in the front row of a concert at the United Center, but this guy\u2019s parents are on the cover of some magazine nearly every week. “Um no one. I mean Charlotte Randolph but my parents aren\u2019t famous\u2026\u201d like yours I finish silently. I can tell he doesn\u2019t want me to say their names out loud. Maybe no one else recognizes him here. I glance around and see that no one is paying us any attention. But if he stepped out in any US mall, he\u2019d be mobbed and not just because of his parents\u2019 fame but his own. His dark eyes and cut torso were part of a major label campaign last summer. It surprises me to see him here.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut they must have a lot of money if you are here.\u201d He narrows his eyes at me as if squinting will bring clarity.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess. My mom runs an investment fund and my dad\u2019s in construction.\u201d I sit myself in a chair opposite of him.<\/p>\n

“So what\u2019re you here for?\u201d<\/p>\n

“Tumor. It\u2019s excised. I have a shunt and am undergoing chemo\/radiation.”<\/p>\n

\u201cWith drugs not allowed in the US?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nod.<\/p>\n

“Ha me too. Stem cell washing. Lots of drugs. And weed of course.\u201d He pats his lap where I see a small metal container.<\/p>\n

\u201cWeed?”<\/p>\n

“Yeah, don\u2019t you get any?”<\/p>\n

I shake my head.<\/p>\n

“Shit, your parents must be withholding from you. Poor girl. Let me know if you want some.\u201d He wiggles the box at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo thanks. Did you just get here?”<\/p>\n

“Yeah my cancer was in remission all of a year. Isn\u2019t that grand? But now it\u2019s back and I\u2019m here. I thought I\u2019d be bored but maybe not.\u201d The examination he gives me is rather insulting but I can see how we\u2019re going to end up spending time together. There isn\u2019t anyone else around. We\u2019re on our own desert island.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou looked great in the ad campaign,\u201d I say lamely. \u201cVery healthy.”<\/p>\n

He snorts. \u201cPhotoshop. What\u2019s your story? You got anyone back home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I nod emphatically. \u201cHis name is Nathan. You?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNah, I\u2019ll probably hook up with one of the nurses. Did my tutor the last time I was here. But maybe I\u2019ll have other options this time.\u201d \u00a0 This time his perusal makes me frown because I know what he\u2019s suggesting and I\u2019m not interested. “What\u2019s your Nathan like?”<\/p>\n

\u201cStrong, smart. Very kind.\u201d Wonderful but maybe not being entirely truthful with me.<\/i>\u00a0I don\u2019t say the last part out loud. That\u2019s between me and Nathan and not to be shared with this rude stranger.<\/p>\n

“No I mean, does he have the hero syndrome or is he a narcissist?”<\/p>\n

\u201cNeither,\u201d I scowl at him.<\/p>\n

He waves off my answer. \u201cDon\u2019t be naive. He\u2019s either the hero because he gets off on this idea that he\u2019s saving you. Like a firefighter can start fires so he can save people. Or he\u2019s a narcissist he gets off looking like a good guy by being with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have a really dismal outlook about people. Nathan isn\u2019t like that. We were friends a long time before we became a couple.\u201d I don\u2019t even know why I\u2019m explaining myself.<\/p>\n

“So you guys dated before you got sick?”<\/p>\n

“No. We were friends. His father and my mother are in business together. His dad and my dad have been best friends since junior high school.”<\/p>\n

He chews on his thumb. \u201cDid you sleep together before you were sick?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d I pinken. \u201cNot that it\u2019s any of your business.”<\/p>\n

\u201cThen narcissist. He\u2019s boning you because it makes him appear like he\u2019s making a huge sacrifice. See Nathan willing to have sex with the gimp. What a hero!”<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not gimpy,\u201d I protest.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey it\u2019s your funeral. I had a girl I dated before I got sick. She even shaved her hair in solidarity when I got the diagnosis. Everyone told her how brave she was. I was the one fucking losing my hair but she\u2019s the brave one. I punted her. Screwed her two best friends.\u201d He stretches out his arm and cracks his knuckles. \u201cThen I took her back and licked her tears of sadness. Best boner ever. Screwed her and kicked her out like the pathetic narcissist she was.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re really kind of horrible, aren\u2019t you?\u201d I say feeling a bit shocked by his commentary but I remembered seeing internet articles about that and reading all the comments saying that the girlfriend was so awesome for sticking by this guy. It chills me a bit.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a realist, sugar. And you will be too by the time you\u2019re done with treatment.\u201d<\/p>\n

If you want the next scene delivered to your inbox on Friday’s, sign up for the newsletter here<\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Nate doesn\u2019t text me until the early evening hours. The seven hour time difference usually means I get a text…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2475,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-794","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-charlotte-chronicles","charlotte-chronicles"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/794","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=794"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/794\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2475"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=794"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=794"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=794"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}