Love Notes

Chapter 6-Charlie



As I walk into the house, I'm thinking the word home should mean many things, such as safe and happy. Surely it can’t be like this in every home. This can’t be normal. I spot my mom in the kitchen starting dinner and she asks, “How was your day? Make any new friends?”

I knew it would be like this. It always is. It’s like the Spanish Inquisition for crying out loud. I know deep down my mom cares, and she really does want to know. I just wish she knew how badly I hurt and how much I want things to change.

“It was good, yeah. I met someone. Her name is Tori, and she’s in my choir class.” I keep the conversation choir oriented, because I know this will appease her. I certainly don’t feel comfortable talking to her about a boy, and there isn’t really much to say anyway.

My mom and I don’t have the best relationship, so I don’t tell her things. Some conversation topics don’t need to be repeated to my dad, so I keep them to myself.

Talking about choir, Mr. Hall, and Tori was a smart move. This seems to satisfy her curiosity. Truthfully, talking about Tori makes me happy. I didn’t think I was going to find someone so fast that I feel so comfortable with.

I head to my room to work on my homework and have it finished before dinner. The time has flown, and before I know it my dad is walking in the door. Now with my dad, I never know what to expect. He could be in a great mood or he could be in a crappy mood. Regardless, I’ll reap the God awful benefits of either mood.

“Hey dad,” I tentatively say to him, hoping he’s in a great mood.

He peers at me and asks, “Hey, Charlie, how was your day? Anybody say anything about your clothes?”

Well shit, there went that hope and I swear I can see it float right out of the window.

My mom barely glances up.

“No dad, my clothes seemed to be accepted by my peers,” I respond matter of fact. I receive no response. However, I don’t doubt this is not the end of the conversation.

I dread dinner time. Ever since I could dish my food out by myself, there have always been comments. As we sit down to eat and I start serving my food onto my plate, I hear the dreaded words.

“Charlie,” my dad says, “I think you need to make your portions a little smaller. You’re a healthy girl already, no need to make yourself look even healthier. Otherwise your peers really will have something to say about your clothes. Don’t you think?”

This has occurred my whole damn life, so you would think I would be used to it. But do you ever really get used to snide comments about your weight? These days it gets old quickly, and I always get embarrassed. My mom just looks down at her plate, while my dad continues his rant.

At this point I’m done eating. I’ve lost my appetite and I finish what little is on my plate and declare I’m going to bed. When I get in to my room, I feel the need to scream, but of course, I don’t. I’m not sure why I let him get to me. I should be used to it. But I’m just not!

To lighten my mood, I decide to call Tori. I’ve never had a close girl friend to talk to, and I decide to take a leap of faith. She picks up on the second ring. “Aw, I was hoping you would call. We still have a conversation to continue,” she says.

I chuckle into the phone and change the subject by asking about her.

“So, Tori, do you have your eye on anybody in particular?”

“Nah,” I just haven’t found anyone yet that is crush worthy in my opinion. Or at least, worthy of my crush!” We laugh and start talking about other mundane things, and next thing I know, two hours have passed. We figure out we have the same lunch period and plan to meet in the morning in the parking lot. We discuss clothing options for the next day and say our goodbyes. I get off the phone feeling a little better and ready to start the next day.