29 June 1993 - Wood End, Provincetown, Massachusetts
This is what I needed...
Jeff sat in the sand on Provincetown’s isolated, sandy, southernmost point. His trek to Wood End was made via Breakwater Walk, a path across a rock dike at the west end of Provincetown Harbor. Jeff had made a game of his earlier trip across the structure, hopping from rock to rock like a billy goat as quickly and safely as he was able.
The private, calming vista in front of him was the reward for his journey. Jeff sat in the sand at the edge of the dunes, trying to figure out the next move in his life. He gazed west, out over the waters of Massachusetts Bay towards Plymouth, as he reclined against his daypack. He wondered if he was as hopeful for a new start as the Pilgrims. He hadn’t known that they’d landed at Provincetown first in 1620 before continuing on to Plymouth. Jeff understood why people liked to sit by the water so much; the light winds produced a soft lapping sound as the water came ashore.
He’d checked into an inexpensive motel in the neighboring town of Truro two nights ago. It was as inexpensive as one could get for the area during the height of the summer season; at least it was clean. The drive from Enfield should have taken four to five hours. The only highway to the end of Cape Cod, U.S. Route 6, alternated back and forth from four to two lanes; it produced impressive traffic from the Cape’s “elbow” to its “fist” every weekend during the summer. His drive took over seven hours.
He spent yesterday exploring Provincetown but he’d only scratched the surface, walking just its main road, Commercial Street. The two outer ends of the street were lined with homes. The downtown area was a riot of restaurants, galleries, shops and performance venues. The people walking that street ran the gamut: old, young, gay, straight, couples, groups of friends or, like him, single explorers; infinite diversity displayed in infinite combinations.
Jeff heard laughter behind him, snapping him from his daydreams. A pair of women ran down the beach towards where he sat; they stopped right in front of him and began to make out. Jeff was sure they didn’t know he was there; he was all but hidden from view by beach grass where he sat in the sand. He cleared his throat to get their attention. One of the women screamed.
“Sorry, ladies,” he apologized as he stood, his palms out in a calming manner. The women retreated a step. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I didn’t want to see me and think I was being a perv, either.”
The taller of the two studied him closely before taking a small step towards him again. “Jeff! Jeff Knox!” she exclaimed with a smile.
Jeff stared at the woman who’d known his name. Her hair was shorter and her skin more tan than he remembered, but he soon recognized her. “Charlene Flaherty! How have you been, Charlie?” Charlie bounded over and hugged him tight. The feel of a woman in his arms always made him feel better.
“Jeff, you look great!” Charlie said. “Have you gotten bigger?” she asked, squeezing his bicep.
“Only my ego, Charlie,” he joked, “only my ego. And you look great; your hair looks terrific, short like that.”
Charlie ran a hand through her short black hair and smiled wider. “Ego? You mean you finally found one?” They shared laughter. “Hey, Emilie,” she called to her friend, “come on over and meet Jeff.” The blonde woman hesitated, then walked over and wrapped her arm around Charlie’s waist.
“Jeff this is Emilie D’Avril, my partner. Emilie, this is Jeff Knox. Jeff was a year ahead of me in high school and I was in the same class as his younger sister.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jeff,” Emilie offered. Jeff caught the French-Canadian accent in Emilie’s voice. He also caught the distrust in her eyes.
“Enchantè, mademoiselle,” he replied, drawing a smile and nod from Emilie; the smile didn’t reach those eyes.
“How is Kara?” Charlie asked.
His gaze shifted back to her. “Kara’s good, thanks. She’s working for a graphic design firm in Springfield and dating a former coworker of mine.”
“What brings you out here to the Province Lands?”
Jeff blew out a breath, looking back out across the water. “Still running from my problems, Charlie. Still trying to figure stuff out.” She raised an eyebrow at him. He waved at at his towel as an invitation for the women to sit. They sat; he dropped to the sand, facing them.
“I left the Army after four years, in mid-’91, and moved home; I moved into the apartment above Bilzarian’s Hardware instead of back into my parents’ house. While I worked on getting my EMT certification that fall, I started doing some assistant coaching for Coach Kessler back at Thompkins. We won a state championship in hockey and made it to districts in baseball last year; we didn’t do as well this year, though. I started working as an EMT last Memorial Day and I’d been at an ambulance service out of Springfield since then; I just left that job. Now I’m here trying to clear my head and decide on my next move. There’s a situation back there I’m trying to get away from.”
“What kind of situation?”
“A co-worker went off the deep end and dragged some of my friends and I along for the ride. Then my company was sold to another ambulance company. The other company is managed by the coworker’s cousin. He blamed me for her going off the deep end; he mailed a letter to every ambulance service in Massachusetts, black-listing me, telling them not to hire me.”
“Can he do that?”
“Our assertion is no, not without consequence, but he did mail the letters.”
“‘Our?’”
“My lawyer and I. We filed a defamation suit against the manager and the ambulance company ‘both jointly and severally, ‘ as the lawyers like to put it. We’re suing the manager personally for his actions as an individual, and we’re suing the company because he acted in his capacity as their manager. Many of my coworkers decided they didn’t want to work for them after that, too.”
“Well, I hope you have their balls for breakfast,” Charlie said. Jeff winced at the phrase. “Jeff, you didn’t react at all when I told you Emilie was my partner. I usually see some sort of reaction from people, especially people I know, but it was like I’d just told a stone from the reaction I didn’t see from you.”
“Charlie, I realized after I left Thompkins that life is way too short to worry about who is doing what with whom, especially when it doesn’t affect me. When my best friend was killed in the Gulf War it underscored that point for me, that life is too short. A friend at my ambulance company lost everything when her apartment building burned back in January. I didn’t care that she was gay when I offered her a spare bedroom at my apartment; all I cared about was that she was my friend and she needed help.”
“Are you?”
“Gay? Not even a little, Charlie. That first summer I was home, Allison Newbury and I lived together, sharing the same bed; I’m still as straight as I was in high school. I’ve heard about Provincetown and its beauty all my life but I’ve never been out here, that’s all.”
“Your friend from work? She wasn’t the coworker who went off the deep end, was she?”
“No,” Jeff sighed. He looked away, across the water. “She’s one of the friends who got sucked into the drama surrounding that other one. She was the lightning rod for the crazy girl.”
“What happened?”
“The crazy girl was fixated on me for some reason. I couldn’t stand her; something turned me off right away. I can’t prove it, but I believe she broke into the ambulance company’s personnel office to get my address. I started feeling like someone was watching me not too long after that; I found footprints outside my bedroom window soon after, and I lived on the second floor. Then, before Connie moved in, things seemed to settle down. I was on a much different schedule than Dawn, the crazy girl, so I hardly saw her. I think that may have lessened her interest in me somewhat.”
“A month after Connie moved in Dawn got fired. She wasn’t doing her job very well, and they hoped to offer her a longer training time at an evaluation meeting. But she verbally attacked my friend Connie during that meeting, so they were forced to fire her. A month after that she torched our cars in the parking lot at Bilzarian’s, trying to lure us outside so she could attack us with a softball bat. She’s going to be serving twenty to thirty years at Framingham after pleading guilty to all the charges from that night.”
“She drove Connie away because of that night; Connie heard the hate Dawn spewed when she was arrested and it scared her. While I was at work the next day, Connie packed her things and left. She left to escape the hate someone held for who she is. I don’t know where she is. I don’t know if my friend has landed somewhere yet, or if she’s even alright. Connie leaving is just one part of my comfortable life in Enfield coming apart at the seams, but it’s certainly the most painful.”
“Je m’excuse, ma cher, but we need to go soon so you can get ready for practice,” Emilie broke in.
“‘Practice?’” Jeff asked.
“I’m in a band. I sing and play guitar,” Charlie answered.
“I remember your singing now,” Jeff said. “You had a great voice back in Enfield; I’m sure it’s only gotten better.”
“I like to think so,” Charlie smiled.
“Jeff, you should come to the practice, yes?” Emilie asked. Jeff saw something different in her eyes now - acceptance.
Charlie nodded. “Yes! Please come!” she pleaded. “I think you’ll enjoy it!”
He looked from Charlie back to Emilie; she gave him a genuine smile and a nod. “How can I refuse an invitation from two lovely ladies? I won’t be bringing unwanted testosterone to the scene, will I?”
Both women laughed, shaking their heads. “No, Jeff,” Charlie said. “It won’t be a problem.”
“What time does your practice start? I’ll need to run back to the motel in Truro to clean up first.”
“How long are you here for, and where’s your car now?”
“I’m here until Friday; I couldn’t get a room for next week without paying much more than I wanted to. I lucked out with the parking today, though; I found a spot back at the rotary by Pilgrims’ First Landing Park before walking across the breakwater.”
Charlie looked at Emilie and received a smile and a small nod. “Jeff, check out of your hotel and come to our condo.” She gave him the address. “We’ve got two parking spots, a guest room, and you’ll have plenty of time to get over to our place and get washed up before I need to be at practice. We have to get going now because we were supposed to bring a fruit salad to practice, and it’s still not made.”
“What? Are you both sure?”
“Jeff, I know you,” Charlie said. “I know the kind of person you are; I doubt that’s changed in the three years since we’ve seen each other. I can tell that Emilie already feels comfortable around you, which isn’t the norm for her when strange men are involved.”
“And we both know I’m strange,” Jeff laughed. Emilie did as well while Charlie rolled her eyes.
“Jeff, you should be comfortable here,” Emilie said while she showed him the second bedroom.
“Merci, Emilie.”
“De rien, Jeff,” she smiled. “Charlie, she tell me more about you on the walk back here. How you were in school.”
“And you’re still letting me stay?” he asked in shock. He had a smile on his face when he asked.
Emilie laughed again. “The women, they must like you. It is easy to laugh with you.”
Shrugging, Jeff said, “I try to be friends with people. If that evolves into something else with women...” He shrugged again. “If it doesn’t, then I have a new friend.”
“That is a very good approach. I am finding that I already like you, Jeff; what you told Charlie, it broke my heart and showed me who you are. That is why I agreed with Charlie to offer you a place to stay, even though we had just met. There was an incident with a man, back in Québec; I left Canada because of it. I moved to Boston and met Charlie there. I do not feel comfortable with men very often, but with you I am instantly at ease.”
“I’m sorry you had that experience, but I’m glad you’re here to make Charlie happy; she was happy enough at school, but she glows now. I’m sure that’s because of you.”
Emilie shocked them both when she gave him a kiss of thanks on the cheek.
Jeff laughed when he met the rest of the band Charlie played with. “I can see why I wasn’t going to be bringing unwanted testosterone to the scene, Charlie, you’ve already got plenty here!” Everyone else in the band was male.
“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? That Emilie and I are the token estrogen in the mix?”
“Charlie, did you bring treats?“ the drummer asked.
“Simmer down, randy Randy. Sorry to disappoint you, but I believe Jeff plays for the other team.”
“Hmmm, pity.” Randy looked Jeff up and down. “Any chance you’re a switch hitter?”
“No, sir, not a one,” Jeff answered.
Randy frowned. “You, Charlene Flaherty, are cruel,” he stated while he pointed his drumsticks at her. “What is this? The carrot and the stick? You dangle this morsel in front of us to get us to play better, then you’ll hit us with a switch if we don’t?”
“And when have I ever done that, Randy?”
“C’mon, Randy, let it go,” the keyboard player said. “Hi, I’m Paul Aspinall. How do you know Charlie and Emilie?”
“Jeff Knox. Charlie went to high school with my sister; I graduated the year before them. I just met Emilie today.”
“Good to meet you.” The rest of the band introduced themselves. “Let’s play some music, folks,” Paul said.
The band ran through their set list over the next three hours; they were a rock cover band, though they strayed off-course into other genres a few times. They played pretty clean, only having to back up a couple of times to rework something. Emilie introduced the band’s significant others who’d also come to the practice. It was a social event for the ones not playing.
“They’re really good. How often do they get together?” Jeff asked Emilie while they both sat and watched.
“We all live north of Boston, so they practice almost every weekend. They went to school in Boston together and formed the band their freshman year. Except for the original keyboard player, they stayed in the area when they graduated; Paul also plays guitar, but switched to keyboards last year. We coordinate our vacations to take two weeks at this time of year, so they can perform during the weeks around July Fourth. We drive down every other weekend during the summer, too; they’ve got a loyal following down here that they’ve built over the last five years.”
“They’ve been playing down here that long?”
“The first summer was during an ‘open mic’ night with borrowed instruments. The club’s manager booked them for a few dates at the end of that summer, then encouraged them to come back the following year. Playing ‘gigs’ helps offset the rents and mortgages down here.”
“You know, I don’t think I’ve asked what the name of the band is.”
Emilie laughed, shaking her head. “You ready? They’re called ‘Charlie Flair and The Queens.’”
Jeff started laughing. An image popped into his head and he began to laugh harder. He fell out of his chair.
“Alright, Knox. What’s so funny?” Charlie asked from the back of the garage.
“I just had an image of you in a dark suit singing ‘Addicted To Love’ by Robert Palmer while the guys danced behind you in those short, black dresses with red lipstick on.”
Randy started snickering. Jace, the rhythm guitarist, laughed.
The bass player, Franz, asked, “Do you think we can get the dresses and suit by Saturday’s show?”
“Can we learn the song by Saturday?” Charlie asked. The rest of the band immediately began to play the song. All that was missing were Charlie’s guitar part and the vocals. “Alright, alright. So the question is, ‘Can I learn the song by Saturday?’ Thanks, no pressure.”
Jeff drummed his fingers on the table in time with the music. The band was forty-five minutes into their set and were playing “Sultans of Swing” by Dire Straits. The difference between the timbre of Charlie’s voice and Mark Knopfler’s was obvious, but it worked; the acoustic version of Ozzy’s “Crazy Train” they played next did too. Every song they’d played so far set his foot to tapping harder than the last. They played “Addicted To Love” but the band had decided to wait on the dresses.
“Man, Charlie was good in school, and the practice sounded great, but this is amazing!”
“This is how we met,” Emilie said as she nodded in agreement. “They were playing a show in Cambridge one night. I went up to Charlie and complimented her after they’d finished their show and were packing up. She invited me out for coffee and we’ve been seeing each other ever since. We’ve been sharing a place in Malden for three years. We bought the condo together here last year.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about heading to the Boston area and working there since things started falling apart. Are rents as bad as I’ve heard?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“I don’t want to spend my savings on rent, but I can’t stay in Enfield. What do you and Charlie do for work?”
“Charlie is a nurse at a hospital near Boston. I’m a copy editor at a publishing house outside the city. Malden is very convenient for both of us.”
“Where is Malden in relation to Boston?”
“Just northwest, only a few miles away, but the traffic makes it seem farther at rush hour. Jeff? Your shirt? What does this ‘School of Hard Knocks’ mean?”
“I joined the Army right after high school,” he explained. “My unit had a few hard knocks during the Invasion of Panama in 1989. We lost five of our comrades; that’s what the five stars on the front and back symbolize, the friends our battalion lost. The reason the shirt gives the location of the school as Panama City, Panama is because that’s where my unit fought during the invasion.”
“And the ‘504-X-1’ on the back? What does that mean?”
“First Battalion, 504th Parachute Infantry Regiment, my unit; the ‘X’ is actually a pair of crossed rifles, the insignia of the Infantry. The regiment is part of the 82nd Airborne Division.”
The pair enjoyed the music for a few minutes more until the band took their first break.
“You guys were terrific yesterday, but tonight is beyond description!” he exclaimed when the band came over to their tables to sit. “Emilie says you’re a nurse too, Charlie? You’re a nightingale in more than one sense of the word, that’s for sure!” Charlie beamed at the praise.
The new friends chatted for about fifteen minutes until the band took the stage again. Their first song after the break was “Stairway to Heaven.”
“Emilie? This was always the last song at school dances when Charlie and I were at Thompkins; it’s one of my favorites. May I ask you to dance?”
Emilie hesitated before nodding yes. She rose when Jeff offered her his hand. He led her to the dance floor, half-filled with couples of his approximate age. There he guided her into a dance hold and swayed in time to the music. Emilie relaxed as the song continued and Jeff did nothing but hold her; she scolded herself for thinking Jeff might be like the other men she’d had trouble with. Her sense of ease was interrupted.
“If you’re going to try the other side of the street, Emilie, you should come with me.” Jeff and Emilie both turned to the voice and saw a large man in a too-tight shirt and shorts smirking at them.
“No, thank you, Richard,” she responded in a tight voice. Jeff sensed her unease and moved to shield her from the man.
“Oh, come on,” the man persisted, “you know you want to.”
“Go away, please.” Emilie’s tone began to turn to a pleading one. The man snorted and reached for her. He never touched her. Jeff swatted his arm away; next was a strike to the solar plexus. The man’s breath exploded from his lungs when the heel of Jeff’s hand connected.
“Hey, Dick, the lady said no,” Jeff explained to the man who was now kneeling on the floor. Richard caught his breath and launched a meaty fist at Jeff’s face. Jeff stepped outside the punch. He grabbed it and twisted. Richard’s elbow tried to bend in a direction it wasn’t meant to. Richard hit the floor with Jeff’s knee between his shoulder blades, helping him taste it.
“There’s always one,” Jeff sighed into the deafening silence, expecting to be grabbed by a bouncer or the man’s friends. None of those people came to Richard’s rescue. Jeff used the opportunity to hold an impromptu class.
“Hey! Dick!” he called, slapping the man’s face. “That’s what’s known as a ‘bad move.’ You caused my friend fear, so that’s ‘assault’ in this fine Commonwealth. The pain you’re feeling is known as a ‘consequence’ of your aforementioned bad move; you seem to be unfamiliar with the concept. In case it’s unclear, I really don’t like bullies; I haven’t for years and I’ve been taking them to task since I was fourteen. You might try interacting with something other than steroids; they seem to have shrunk your brain along with your balls.”
“Sir, if you’ll release him, we’ll take care of this,” said a new voice. Jeff looked towards the speaker and saw two bouncers. Jeff got off Richard’s back, keeping hold of his arm and offered it to the men. One nodded at him and they removed the miscreant. Jeff turned to see a crying Emilie being comforted by Charlie, who’d stopped playing when the confrontation began.
“Emilie, are you okay?” Jeff asked. Emilie nodded at him. “He didn’t touch you, did he?” She gave him a silent shake of her head.
“Ms. Flair, do you need to take Ms. D’Avril home?” asked the manager; he’d come over after Richard was removed. “Your group will receive the full agreed-upon fee if you feel the need to leave, I assure you.”
“NON!” Emilie declared with some heat. “I will stay here with our friends and we will enjoy Charlie’s music. I will not allow that... comment dit on? ... that asshole to ruin everyone’s evening. Peter, you’ve been very good to us over the past few summers; your guests shouldn’t suffer.”
“Emilie, are you sure?” Charlie asked before Peter could. Emilie nodded with emphasis. Charlie turned back to Peter. “Peter, we’ll stay. And there’s no need to be all stiff and formal with us; this isn’t your fault. Could we ask for a short break though so that we may grab a little fresh air?”
“Of course, Charlie. You know the band is one of our biggest draws of the summer when we’re able to schedule you, right? Take all the time you need.” Peter turned to Jeff and held out his hand. “I’m Peter Willington, the manager here. Your drinks are on the house tonight; thanks for keeping Emilie safe.” Jeff shook the man’s hand before he escorted the two women outside.
Gravel crunched behind them just after they’d stepped out of the doorway. Jeff spun towards the sound and moved to protect the women. Richard the Dick bore down on them, his face an angry mask. A massive roundhouse right hurtled towards Jeff. Jeff ducked under the swing. He delivered a right to Richard’s stomach which stopped him. A left to the kidney stood him up. A right cross to the jaw shattered it. Richard spun from the final impact, already unconscious; he dropped face-first to the sidewalk like a felled tree, breaking his nose. The bouncers came running along with Peter and the rest of the band.
Jeff straightened his shirt and stretched his neck, popping the vertebrae loud enough that everyone heard the sound. He looked at Peter. “I’m a paratrooper. You might want to order more alcohol.”
The three friends returned to the ladies’ condo at two-thirty in the morning following a very successful night for the band. They’d emptied the tip jar five times, pocketing an unprecedented amount for themselves. Many people came up to Jeff during the night to shake his hand for how he’d handled Richard. The man seemed to be very unpopular.
Jeff dropped onto a kitchen chair to untie his shoes, weary; twenty hours was a long time to be awake, especially with two adrenaline surges close to the end of that time. When he straightened up from that task, a body slid onto his lap; arms hugged him tight. He registered Emilie’s blonde hair while she pressed her lips to his in a firm, warm kiss.
“Jeff, thank you for a wonderful night. You helped bury many demons for me tonight with how you treated me and protected me from Richard.” She kissed him again before sliding off his lap.
Charlie took Emilie’s place and gave Jeff her own deep kiss; the kiss rivaled the best he’d had in the past. Charlie gave him a look of adoration mixed with thanks before sliding off his lap and walking to the bedroom she shared with Emilie.
Jeff sighed, collected his shoes, and collapsed into his bed fully clothed. He was asleep in seconds.
Jeff gulped air while he stepped back onto the path leading into the dunes, his legs shaking. He made his way back to the road after his forty-five minute run on the pebbly beach. He needed a hot breakfast, hot coffee and an even hotter shower, though they didn’t need to occur in that order. The clothes he’d worn for his run should just be burned.
He walked back to the women’s condo complex. He unlocked the door as slowly as he could, trying not to wake them. They both greeted him with chuckles when he opened the door, knowing what he was trying to do.
“You couldn’t sleep late, either?” Charlie asked from the couch where she was curled up with Emilie.
Glancing at the clock, Jeff saw that he’d been out for two hours and it was now ten-thirty. “Hey, I got five and a half hours of sleep! That’s a full night for me! Anyway, do either of you ladies need the bathroom before I run through the shower?”
“No, we’re both good. What do you want to do today?” Charlie asked holding Emilie’s hand.
“The weather looks like it’s going to be good; it’s already feeling like a beach day.”
“Sounds good to us. We’ll get ready and we can go when you get out of the shower?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Jeff was doing something that he was quite unaccustomed to: nothing. He soaked up the sun while he lay on his towel on Herring Cove Beach; he was trying to eradicate the farmer’s tan earned in the front seat of his ambulance. The gentle sound of the waves mixed with the laughter of children while he drifted in and out of sleep. He could afford to catch up on his sleep after his long day yesterday, but not the lobster-like sunburn that would come with a prolonged nap.
He registered the sound of someone greeting Charlie and Emilie and looked up. The man doing the greeting was doing so in a much friendlier manner than the Dick last night. Both women had smiles on their faces so he wasn’t worried. He sat up.
“Bax, this is Jeff Knox,” said Emilie, handling the introduction. “He was our knight in shining armor last night.” Jeff popped to his feet. “Jeff, this is Chris Bandaxall, one of the owners of the Draughthouse.” The Draughthouse was the venue for last night’s entertainment, both planned and unplanned. Jeff extended his hand for a shake.
“Jeff, good to meet you!” boomed Bandaxall. He took in the scars on Jeff’s left shoulder and the tattoo on his right. “Panama?”
“Panama,” Jeff confirmed. “504th PIR.”
Bandaxall nodded. “I was in the 325th AIR during Grenada. Nice job last night. I hear you took care of business.”
Jeff shrugged. “I was lucky to have a thoughtful opponent; he brought his glass jaw with him.” Bandaxall laughed.
“Well, whatever you attribute your success to, thank you for keeping these ladies safe. Girls, there’s a table for three reserved for you under your names at Maxine’s at five-thirty. It’s the ownership group’s way of apologizing for last night and thanking you for staying.”
Charlie and Emilie explained Maxine’s was the Outer Cape’s newest upscale eatery, located in Provincetown’s East End; Jeff was glad he’d thought to pack good casual clothes. Since it was three in the afternoon, the friends thanked Bax and began to gather their things.
Jeff trailed three women while they all wound through Maxine’s: the restaurant’s hostess, Charlie and Emilie. The hostess led them to a large table next to a bank of windows overlooking the rear garden. Jeff seated both women before sitting.
“You clean up even better than I remember, Jeff,” Claire joked.
“Oui, très beau,” agreed Emilie.
“Like I can compare to you two ladies?” Jeff offered in return. “You do own mirrors, right?” Both blushed at the compliment and looked back down at their menus. They ordered when the waiter returned with their drink order. Jeff raised his glass of beer when the server left.
“Ladies, may I propose a toast? A toast to the kindness of the Fates in bringing me to the right spot at Wood End yesterday? For allowing me to start a new friendship with Emilie while renewing one with Charlie. And for allowing me to experience a terrific night with new friends last night. Un verre à l’amitié. A toast to friendship.”
“To friendship,” replied Charlie as their glasses touched.
“À l’amitié,” Emilie repeated as her eyes watered, grateful at having been included.
They sipped at their drinks to complete the toast. Emilie addressed Jeff after the drinks were back on the table, grasping Charlie’s hand.
“Jeff, in thirty-six hours you’ve managed to thoroughly charm someone who was deathly afraid to be around men. You didn’t hold me at arm’s length or treat me differently because you’d just met me. You didn’t bat an eye before you’d accepted me and my place in Charlie’s life. You’ve given me back the chance to live a normal, relaxed life without the fear that half the population is evil. Jeff, Charlie and I talked about this while you were taking your shower - we want to offer you the empty bedroom at our condo in Malden.”
Jeff was stunned to silence, reduced to blinking in disbelief at the two young ladies he was sharing the table with. “Emilie,” he croaked. He took a sip of his water and tried again. “Emilie, Charlie, I am deeply humbled by your offer. Are you both absolutely certain about this? This is a little more than letting a friend crash at your place for a few days.”
“Jeff, we are sure,” Emilie assured him. “I didn’t quite believe Charlie at first when she told me of how you quickly make people feel at ease, even after I’d experienced it myself. Being around you yesterday, however, I began to understand. By the time we left the Draughthouse last night, I was a convert. You need a place near Boston, a way to escape the current situation back home, and we are happy to offer that to you in this way.”
Jeff could do nothing but accept the women’s offer. He had his way out.
