baby, i'm a lost cause-- charlie cavanaugh

[swing]

Julia,

I don?t know what you really gave up. Sometimes you just have to get away from the things that you thought you knew and were comfortable with to realize how much you need them. Sometimes too, you need to get away from something that you think you hate in order to realize how much you really miss it. I guess, I mean I don?t know, that?s just what I think. I don?t think that moving was a bad idea, though. Everyone needs a change once in a while.

Don?t tell him where his shit is, let him figure it out on his own. I?m glad you sold off some of his things and so now maybe he?ll think about what he does the next time. You should get out of L.A. though, even if it?s just for a visit back home for a couple of days. Maybe the doctor is right, maybe L.A. is a good place for you to settle down in, it?s a lot nicer than staying in New York. It doesn?t snow there. I think Dani?s only stressed out about you living there because she worries about you, it?s good to have someone who worries about you sometimes. Make sure you tell her that you?re not leaving because of her or she?ll have a fit.

You might want to tell your parents that you are coming into town though, so they can make sure that they are home. I don?t think you?d be too happy if you showed up and they left on vacation or something. I don?t really know your family anymore so I can?t really say. If you want to make the drive to Philadelphia then you can, I was just kidding any way. You?re not a thorn in my side, if anything, it?s the other way around. My life has always been a mess with a couple of breaks in between so I wouldn?t worry about fucking it up anymore. You?re right though, you need to learn to stand on your own two feet, and I think that you will if you commit yourself to it. Don?t fall into old routines, I can tell you that from experience. I don?t clean up after you, I just check in on you every now and again, I?m in no position to pull anyone out of a mess and you know that better than anyone I think.

I?m not going to take the apology because there?s no reason for it, so you can forget about it. You had a right to be a bitch to me, I said some things that were pretty heavy to you. I could?ve been nicer about it, but it needed to be said I guess. You can?t fuck up things for me, I?m the only one allowed to fuck up my life now. That?s a privilege that I?ve revoked, and don?t fucking worry about your language, I?m not.

Being honest causes a lot of unnecessary problems though. Part of me wishes that I had inherited the gene that allows lies to come off sounding like the truth, but I don?t think I?d be in the same place that I?m in if I were a good liar, so maybe it?s a good thing that I can?t. You don?t have to tell me that I?m not an asshole when the reverse is true. I?m fine with it, I?d rather be an asshole because at least it?s something that sticks, you know? I make an aggressive impression and I suppose that?s better than none at all. I only keep you in line because you?ve kept me in line, it?s something that I have appreciated about you too. You may?ve put up with some of my shit, but you knew where the line was and you didn?t let me cross it.

If you don?t want me to listen to your last letter, then I won?t and everything you said will now be voided, including the apologies. I haven?t always been good for you, I?m not good for anyone kind of like cigarettes. I?m good to have around socially but it?s not a good idea to keep me in your daily routine because before you know it, you?ll be cancerous too. I don?t know, to be honest. I haven?t done anything that anyone else wouldn?t have done if they were in my position. I don?t think that there?s any real explanation other than that. I was just around and I know that if the positions were reversed, you wouldn?t let me waste my life in a hospital.

I don?t think that you?re fucked up, I just think that you?re looking for something that you haven?t found. You?ll find it, but I don?t think that it?s in Los Angeles or at a man?s house who?s just been incarcerated. Stay away from those people. Convicts, they?re dangerous.

You can?t always rely on people though, I?ve come to realize that. When you rely on people, you lean on them too much and once they get tired of bearing your weight they just slip out from under you and you?re left with nothing but yourself to piece back together. You?ve got to learn to be self-sufficient or this world?s going to eat you alive. I think gravity feeds off of people?s turmoil sometimes. But, you?ve been there when I needed a hand and that?s all I can really offer to you because I can?t be that crutch. I?m splintered wood, dead debris that refuses to wash up on shore.

I don?t think you really want to get to know me. I?m not that shy kid in chemistry class any more, I never really was. That?s the problem with me I guess. I?ve been grown up all my life. I forged my application to the supermarket so I could start work without a permit, did you know that? I was fourteen when I got that job. I started smoking then too and I?ve tried to quit, but I don?t really see the point. Everyone?s going to die and if I?m supposed to have cancer then I?ll have it. It?d give me something else to fight. I?m always fighting something or someone, I don?t know what it?s like not to struggle to keep my head above water and even if I did? I don?t think that I?d like it very much.

I?ve been thinking a lot about God lately, not because someone put a Bible in my hand and told me to find Jesus or anything like that, but because everyone I?ve ever known says that there has to be something or someone out there. I think that if there is a God then he or she must enjoy being cruel because for every good thing that there is in the world, there?s a million other bad things to cancel it out. I guess that?s the reason that I don?t believe in anything but the present tense; not past or future, because when I think about the future now it?s nothing more than ash. Fuck, I?m lucky to still be alive now that I think about it. I?ve broken almost every bone in my body and nearly replaced my blood supply with chemicals and some how, I?ve managed to weather through it.

I guess this was a little more personal than I would?ve liked to send. I used to be able to pour my heart out on paper and have it be poignant, but I haven?t got much left. It?s that selfish part of me that wants to keep what shreds I have left to myself. I can?t stop you from doing anything, Julia, and I know that. I just wish that sometimes I was a better person. A stronger person maybe.

Have a safe flight in.

Always,
Charlie.

[swing]

Stripes of unstained wood mixed with curls and splinters of old wood that had been ripped up and replaced in the early part of the morning. He worked better when everyone cleared out the house and their meager decor made his job easier. Each place where the floor had become too worn now looked as it had when the house was originally built. Markers were stood up around the newly stained patches while he moved onto the rickety banister, turning its wobble into stability.

A thick stroke of black ink crossed out each project that he had accomplished on the small notepad that he shoved into his back pocket. These things weren't required, but were done to improve the living standards of everyone in the house. He knew that everyone would have found ways around them, but he had time to kill between arriving in one city and leaving for the next. He had never felt so transitional -- a transient in his own rented space. He moved in and out of the house quietly without ever really attaching himself to any part of it.

The sheen of summer formed in thick beads that rolled over the angles of joints where limbs locked together and forced him to look toward the ceiling for some kind of relief. The pen hit paper in notation that they might want a ceiling fan installed when the door was knocked on. Brows joined together at the unexpected (forgotten) visitor before he walked to the door and pulled it open -- another chance to test the strength of the new doorknob that didn't threaten to fall off.

"He--wow, maybe you should take a shower before we leave," River chimed in brightly.

"Fuck, I forgot." Charlie smeared the tips of fingers over an eye before he stepped aside to let River into the house. "I have to fix the sink and clean this shit up and then we can go."

River seemed fascinated with the structure, the city itself was unlike anything he had ever scene and he had spent most of the ride up buried in his sketchbook. Now his eyes turned upward and all around as he scoured for familiarity, something that he could identify with. Turning up empty, he shoved his messenger bag behind him and walked forward only to pause in front of the markers. "I thought you were fixing the place, not drawing on the floor."

"I am," Charlie said in passing as he moved to kneel in front of his battered set of tools. "That's how I marked it to know where not to step. It's dry now so you don't have to worry, I did that this morning. In fact, will you walk on it?"

River gave him an odd look before he stomped over the markers. "Okay?"

"Did you hear that?" Charlie looked up after he pulled a set of wrenches from the box with a grin.

"Hear what?" River walked back over the spot a few times before he shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't hear anything."

"Exactly." Charlie stood and started to walk back toward the kitchen. "It creaked like hell before."

River was slow to follow, taking time to look at the scattered mess of repair work and tools before he leaned on the counter in the kitchen and stared down at the obscured body of his friend. "When did you learn to do all of this shit?"

"Are you kidding?" Charlie peaked his head around the pipe from the sink. "I used to do this shit for your mom all the time."

"Really?"

Charlie used the wrench to tighten a washer on the sink before he responded, "Yeah, I fixed your mom's dishwasher that time."

"Did you? I was wondering why it worked."

"Yeah, and I pulled about twelve green army men out of the garbage disposal too."

"In my defense, that was from a long time ago."

Charlie moved from underneath the sink to drain its water before he fixed the faucet, noting when it stopped leaking. "What, so you were like twelve?"

"Don't be an asshole."

Charlie grinned and washed his hands before he moved out of the kitchen back in the hallway to clean things up. River followed and dodged a toy that was strewn across the floor.

"Talk about being a kid still, why are there toys on the floor?"

"What?" Charlie shoved the tools into a side closet before he picked up the wood and threw it into a garbage bag. "Oh, those. Yeah, that's from Sol's little girl, I told you about her remember?"

"I know. Listen," River rummaged through his bag before he offered out the small cardboard box with colorful sea animals across its front. "I brought her these fruit snacks."

"Did you eat all of them except for one package?" Charlie looked skeptical as he tied off the bag and set it by the door.

"Did you eat all of them except for one package," River mocked. "No. I bought her, her very own box that she can choose to share or not."

"Is that your lame attempt at a housewarming gift?"

"I don't know, where was mine?"

"You didn't move into a house, you moved into an apartment."

"Still!"

"Still my ass, I'm coming down to help you finish moving aren't I?"

"Yeah, and because you have to say goodbye to everyone and not be a punkass bitch."

"What are they teaching you kids these days?" Charlie brushed past River toward his room where he grabbed a fresh change of clothes. "Give me a few minutes and then we'll go."

River sat on the couch quietly with the box of fruit snacks while Charlie took a shower. He noted that it smelled like cheetos but didn't say anything about it when Charlie came out with his bag.

"I just need to leave a note and then we can go."

The note was plastered to the counter in his nearly illegible script along with the box of fruit snacks:

S, Q, and M,

The fruit snacks were a gift, eat them all. I fixed everything that needed to be fixed I think, but if you find anything else that needs to be repaired just leave me a note. I'm going to NY for a couple days but will be back. We should think about a ceiling fan maybe, it's pretty hot in here.

-C.

PS -- No indecent acts on my sheets please, they're new.

[swing]

He hated hospitals. Their blend of bleach and an unidentified sterile smell immediately set his nerves on fire. He had come to see these structures at places that promoted tragedy rather than recovery, so it was only natural that he tensed whenever he heard a doctor being pages or was bypassed by medical staff. His shoes squeaked against the floor where theirs were silent, moving like ghosts from one wing to another in butter mint uniforms and white laboratory coats. By the time he had found the correct floor, the nurse?s station was already overcrowded with hospital transients who needed to know room numbers and patient status. He could?ve turned back. He could?ve walked away before anyone saw him emerge from the plain washed walls and abstract landscapes meant to soothe, but something made him stay.

?Can I help you?? A woman asked with a perpetually surprised look on her face due to penciled eyebrows.

?Ah,? Charlie cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped toward the counter. ?Yeah, I was looking for someone who had an appointment today.?

?I?m going to need the name,? the woman replied distractedly as she typed in a series of words to bring up the database.

?Lucy Cav?,? he caught himself and struggled to finish the sentence. ?Hart. Lucy Hart.?

The woman began to type in specifics as other nurses buzzed in and out with their worker drone and false smiles as he felt himself begin to blanche.

?Alright,? the woman tapped the screen with a pen before she clicked it open and glanced at him. ?What is your relation to Ms. Hart??

?I...We..? Charlie fumbled for a response as he felt his throat turn dry and his stomach start to turn.

?Are you okay??

?No,? he fumbled with words for a quick reply. ?Yes. Yes, I?m fine. I just.. You know what? Thanks for your help.? He was backing away from the desk as the woman stared at him confusedly.

?Are you sure you?re okay? You are in a hospital you know, you didn?t even??

The woman?s words were cut off by the corner of a wall as Charlie ran from the station and narrowly avoided the latest swarm of people from the elevator. He felt like he was suffocating as the steel doors closed in front of him and he watched his pallid blurred reflection as numbers ticked off, announcing the floors. When they finally split open he tore off in the direction of the restrooms and emptied the contents of his stomach into a porcelain bowl. He could feel himself turning inside out and that was something he promised to show no one.


Nerve ends tick in flicker book animation
One eye's closed in fear, anticipation
Will it stay shut? Will it ever open?
What if? What if?

Nerves

Tell tale tongues lick at seven senses
Brittle spittle sparks you are defenseless
The fabric of dreams is ripped apart
As you feel the twist of the shadowed dagger
In your pumping heart

Nerves

Nerves liky nylon, Nerves like steel
A trail of random cutlery cuts a dash in the concrete underpass
Sense of serenity is shattered in the glint of splintered glass
Nerves

Nerves liky nylon, Nerves like steel

(bauhaus.)

[swing]

His landslide into River?s apartment had his spine pressed flat against the door as he shook in a cold sweat that was brought upon by nerves. Everything felt wrong ? his wiring had changed itself somehow, tangled red with blue and added green where the detonation wire had never been placed before. Instead of an explosion, he melted down like a nuclear reactor, burning everything in his path with that same unsteady rhythm that his heart produced. As breathing slowed into something normal, he peeled himself from the door and sought out the notebook he had brought from Philadelphia. It?s pages were new; a pristine slate of starting over, it was to chronicle his full circle recovery. Instead, its very first page detailed his breakdown.

Lucia,

I don?t know where I should begin this.

I don?t know how to move forward; I never have. My life has been one led by complete regression and cyclic chains of events. Every single fucking thing has always been connected like a spider web, I think I get what Shakespeare meant now. I went to the doctor today to be there for you, for the baby. Our baby. My baby. Your baby. I don?t really think it matters what I call it now, though.

I went because I wanted to see its slow shape forming on a static screen and hear its tiny heart beat. I wanted to be there to watch your face light up in a way that I could never make it and I wanted to see our future unfold. Instead, I found myself at a complete loss. Stripped down and vulnerable because I couldn?t tell your name to the nurse at the information desk or ask what room you were in. I couldn?t because maybe I didn?t want to accept what I?ve been avoiding all this time.

You?re gone. Maybe you?ve moved on and maybe you haven?t, but you will. You will find someone who is strong enough, who cares enough, and I will be someone you knew once in your life before you were better. You?ve become such a strong and healthy person, Lucy. I only wish I was the same, because maybe then I wouldn?t be a hundred miles away from you. I left because I?m afraid of running into you, I?m afraid of seeing you on the sidewalk and begging you to take me home. I?m a fucking transient in my own place of residence, a dead shell, a ghost. The best part of it is, is that it?s my own fucking fault.

I love you more than I have ever loved anything. Not because you?re beautiful (which you are, which I have never said enough, because there is no word that can fully encompass what I feel and I do feel), or successful, or because you?re pregnant but because you really are that half of me. I know that you?re complete and that makes me the weaker person for saying it, but it?s true. The vital half, the half that makes me feel alive is what you have. You have that part of me that I never thought I would ever find.

And now? Now I?ve lost it because I got a little too jealous and said things I didn?t mean. I can?t even apologize for it because it won?t make a difference now, we?re moving forward with this divorce and with it, you?ll be removing any trace of me left aside from that baby. That baby will always be half of me and half of you and I wish to God that I could see it, but I know how much it will hurt because this child will still have half of you in it. But half of you is better than nothing, and this child is very lucky to be part of you. You will make a good mother, Lucy. I?ve never doubted that, even when I never answered you when you asked.

This is my undoing. This letter is my disjointed thoughts, my feelings that come too fast for me to properly form sentences and think out what I want to tell you. If I only had this sheet of paper to tell you everything that I felt, it wouldn?t cover half. I still need you in my life, it?s never been about want. I am barely functioning and it?s pathetic to say that, it?s pathetic to let someone consume your life but I was nothing before you met me. You make me want to be something, someone. I want your approval. I want your respect. I want whatever it is that you can give to me if I can?t have all of you any more.

I?ll send you money on top of what the courts want me to pay you if you want to take it to court. I?ll stay out of your life, Lucy. I?ll let you move on, because I think I owe you that much. I promise this is the last letter that I?ll ever write you. I just wanted you to know that I won?t stop thinking of you, that I won?t stop loving you. There?s this empty hole inside of my chest where you fit and nothing will ever replace you. I?ve always been yours, even if you were never mine.

A promise is a promise no matter what legal documentation says,

Charlie.

The paper was quickly folded and slid into his back pocket as River came barreling through the door. ?You ready to go??

?Yeah,? Charlie offered a response with a shaky sigh before he stood up. ?Just let me get the presents and we?ll go.?

[swing]

Philadelphia

This was routine -- a night in and a night out spent with far too much alcohol and a package of cigarettes. Instead of some dark alley in New York, they were juxtaposed on flat asphalt. His body was flung against it like splatter paint, just waiting to make a mosaic of violence. A man twice his size stood over him with fingers balled toward the hearts of his palms. His voice sounded like metal before it stopped entirely.

Charlie hadn't realized that his fists were connecting with muscle and bone until two arms were pulling him off the man and shoving a neat roll of cash into his hand. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and was smeared off on a thumb pad before eyes looked up to come face to face with a somber looking man in a cheap suit.

"I think that belongs to me."

"I think you should fuck off," Charlie's words had always been acid laced, though now they accompanied a grin as he side stepped the man.

"I think you should give me what you owe me or you're going to look like that asshole you just beat up."

"What're you going to do, shoot me?" Charlie shrugged his shoulders at the man before he shoved the money in his pocket and started across the parking lot, crunching glass underfoot while sirens wailed.

The man took off with a crowd of others and yelled something that Charlie didn't hear because he was already ducking into a doorway to wipe the blood from the side of his face. Dirty convenience store windows with window marker didn't make the best mirror but it worked well enough for him to make out the image of someone standing behind him. The tangled knots in his spine tensed as he dropped his hands and slowly turned to face the man in aviator shades and a Hawaiian shirt.

"Did you really kick that guy's ass?" The man jerked a thumb down the sidewalk. "Back there, I mean."

"Why?" Charlie folded his arms across his chest.

"Because that guy is like, five times your size?"

"What's your point? Just because they're bigger than you doesn't mean shit. They just hit harder."

"Yeah, I kind of saw when he threw you on the ground like the incredible Hulk." The guy winced slightly before he took off his shades and offered a hand. "J.T."

"J.T.? What the fuck is that, some Tiger Beat shit?" Charlie scoffed before he found a broken cigarette in his pocket and managed to salvage and end to light.

"Johnny Talent, actually."

"Th'fuck?"

"Look, I saw that you made some money off that guy and wanted to know if you were interested in making real money."

"Do I look like a fucking whore to you? No. I have a job and I won some money off that guy because he had shit for brains and bet me inside of a bar. Alright?" He took an inhale from his cigarette and exhaled it toward the sickly yellow light.

"Why'd you take the bet?"

"What?"

"Why'd you take the bet," Johnny said as he shoved the glasses on the collar of his shirt. "You a gamblin' man then?"

"I don't gamble asshole or I'd be shooting dice in some back alley in Harlem."

"I knew it. Fucking New York shit, bet this makes you feel like DeNiro right? Come up to Philly, rough up a few guys go back home and celebrate."

"Do you want to get hit in the fucking mouth? I could've done that before if you would've just asked for it." Charlie flicked his cigarette into the street.

"No, I'm just sayin'. There's a reason you took that bet and I'm sayin' there's a reason I'm stoppin' you. How much did he offer you, like a grand? You could make ten times that for one fight if you wanted to."

"Yeah, there's a reason and it's really none of your Goddamned business, is it? Besides, who says I need to make ten times as much when I already told you that I have a job. Listen, save the pitch to the twelve year olds you take from elementary school."

"Look, I have to call 'em when I see 'em and you're not just the kind of guy to take a bet and walk away. I mean, there's a reason you did it and a reason you're getting all defensive."

"I'm getting defensive because I've dealt with fucks like you before, you know what kind of guy I am? That's real fucking great, I'm glad you could pick out a stereotype and iron it right on me because you've known me for like an hour. You have no fucking idea what I'm like."

"So you've done this before, then?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh, I get it." Johnny nodded. "You were one of those Harlem hustlers, right. Selling crack to kids on corners and shit."

"Sure, make up something for me. I don't give a fuck." Charlie brushed past Johnny in an attempt to find a crossing street to bring him back to the townhouse that he shared with the other occupants who were most likely asleep by now.

"Look! Wait!" Johnny ran after him and shoved a piece of paper at him. "This is my number, if you change your mind you can give me a call. I mean, you never know what's going to happen."

"What're you the fuckin' karma fairy?" Charlie snatched the paper from Johnny's hand. "If I hold on to this, are you going to fuck off?"

"I'm already fucking off, see?" Johnny grinned wide and rose hands before he jogged back across the street.