60:Handcuffs?

It took Charlie precisely three minutes to find out the situation with Caleb.  That’s how easy it was, and yet Owen couldn’t manage to find out a single damn thing in ninety minutes.  He was completely, totally, utterly freaking useless and his presence in her stressful day might be a challenge beyond Charlie’s capabilities. 

He’s just lucky I had amazing sex today, or I’d stab him in the throat with a ballpoint pen and tell everybody it was an emergency tracheotomy.

After finding out what she wanted to know, she strode purposefully over to Noah and Owen, who were seated together in adjoining chairs of the surgical waiting room.  She planted her sneakered feet on the carpet, appreciative of Jon’s Godfather-esque ability to make things happen. 

After providing her sizes, he asked an assistant to have the essentials waiting on the ground for both of them – jeans, a couple of t-shirts, underclothes, sneakers, socks and the most basic of toiletries.  Either he or his assistant had even thought to make sure she had a phone charger, meaning the only thing she lacked was makeup.  That was something she could easily live without.

“Caleb’s waking up,” Charlie told her husband and son.  “Just not as coherent as they’d like yet.  They’re going to keep him in post-op a little while longer before taking him up to a room.  It was a fairly straightforward procedure since the appendix didn’t actually rupture and, if it wasn’t so late, he’d be discharged today.  They’re keeping him for the night.  Unless something crazy happens, he should be released tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Owen uttered with bland relief.  Standing, he laid a hand on her upper arm which was likely mean to be comforting but only set her on edge.  “When can we see him?”

“Probably half an hour or so.” 

With any luck, the shape of her mouth resembled a perfectly normal smile instead of a grimace as she eased away to take his vacated seat beside her older son. 

The knowledge that Caleb was going to be okay brought with it a great relief, and since he wasn’t here for her to dote on, Charlie needed one of her kids close.  She pulled Noah into an embrace and relished the solidity of his healthy, athletic body as he allowed himself to be hugged. 

“You were amazing today and I’m so proud of you.  Thank you for stepping up and being here for your brother when Dad and I couldn’t be.  I love you, Noodles.”

While he grimaced at the childhood nickname borne from the time when noodles were all he would eat at the family dinners, he readily tolerated her affection and returned the hug.  “Love you, too, but I just did what needed to be done.  No big deal.”

It was a big deal.  A huge deal, in fact, considering that he’d spent almost his entire life watching Owen shirk responsibility.  Charlie had been agonizing for years that her sons might follow in their father’s victimized footsteps by allowing life to happen to them, rather than assuming accountability.   This was a good sign that she may have dodged that bullet with Noah.

“It’s a very big deal to me – and Caleb,” she contradicted and bussed a quick kiss over his cheek.  The death grip on him was released, but she wasn’t quite ready to relinquish all contact with the one child she could get her hands on.  Charlie left her palm resting lightly in the center of his back. 

“And to me,” added the man whose presence she was trying to will away through telepathy.  “You’re becoming a real man, son.” 

Not looking at the husband who was clapping a hearty pat on their son’s back, she nodded instead at Noah and shifted her own hand to pat a cheek that wasn’t smooth like that of a little boy.  Her son had five o’clock shadow and, for once, Owen was right.  Noah was becoming a man.

Right now, I still need him to be my little boy.    

“You can go back to the dorms if you want to.  He’s fine and will probably be more asleep than awake until morning.”

“Yeah?”  Eyes the same brown hue as Charlie’s flicked back and forth between both parents before landing squarely on her.  “You sure?”

“Positive.”  Slipping a hand into the purse she’d dropped on the seat, she pulled out some money.  “Grab a cab and a pizza, or whatever.”

He grinned at her as he stood, and the money disappeared into the pocket of his jeans.  “It’s less than a mile to the dorm, so I can walk, but I’ll take the money anyway.  Thanks.  I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

“Yes.”  Charlie didn’t know what Owen’s plans were, but she wasn’t going anywhere until Caleb was released and relatively well.  “I’ll text you.”

“Cool.”  With that and a hug for each parent, he sauntered off to resume a college life that the adult world had so rudely intruded upon.

“I love that kid,” Owen remarked, sinking down beside her.  “It’s good to see you, Charlie.  How are you?”

“I just flew by the seat of my pants cross-country because my son was rushed into emergency surgery,” she snapped irritably.  “I’m just fucking swell, Owen.  How are you?”

“Don’t be a bitch.”

“Then don’t be a dumbass.”

Sighing heavily, he leaned forward on his elbows, remarking, “I’ve left you alone for four months.  I would think you’d be in a better mood by now.”

Christ Almighty, did he really just say that?  As though this thing was a “mood”?

“I’ll be in a better mood when you get off your lazy ass, handle your business and leave me a lone permanently.”

A real man would’ve fired back at her in self-defense, but that wasn’t Owen’s style.  Besides that, he had no defense, leaving him to chuckle quietly, “Why would I want to do that?  I like being married to you.  In fact, I think I’m ready to come home.”

Charlie’s stomach knotted with anxiety.  He couldn’t come back yet.  The deal when he left was to be gone for at least a year.  She didn’t want him in her house that wasn’t even finished yet.

“You like being married to my bank account.”

With a benign smile, he concurred, “The money does make it easier to endure your attitude, but you’ve been taking good care of yourself, too.  You look better than a lot of women your age.”

“And you look worse than most men yours.”  At forty-eight and too uninspired to do anything beyond drink and sit on his ass, she could think of at least six men in his approximate age bracket that put him to shame – her brothers and the Bongiovis. 

“I’m still your husband,” came the disgustingly quiet murmur as he lifted a hand to chase the little chunk of hair that escaped her ponytail.  When he tucked it behind her ear, it was everything she could do to not jerk away from the touch and elbow him in the ribs.  “I haven’t taken advantage of the privilege in some time, but seeing you tempts me to.”

Charlie was going to throw up.  Fifteen years had passed since she threw him out of her bedroom and told him to stay out.  Since then, he’d never once had he hinted at being stupid enough to try and come back.  What the hell was going on with him?

“I find it fucking adorable that you think that’s an option.”  These were the times where her gift for upholding a neutral expression as she spit venom – thank you again, law school – came in handy.  This whole damn thing was about nothing more than appearances, after all, and maintaining the illusion was the only thing that kept her life from crumbling.  “The name Lorena Bobbitt mean anything to you?”

The unpleasant sneer on his doughy face revealed slightly crooked teeth that were a dozen shades dingier than Jon’s.  It was hard to remember that there was a time when Owen was good looking, but she’d been quite taken with him at one point in her life.  His current sparse light hair and watery blue eyes were merely shadows of their former glory.

She'd been desperate for a change, and he’d been so different from all the dark men she'd known and cavorted with her whole life.  It had appealed to her. Too bad she didn’t realize how different he was in the ways that really mattered, before it was too late.

“Ah, Charlie. Always pretending to be queen of the castle, when we both know I’m the one that rules the kingdom.  You obviously need to be reminded of that.”

Hatred seethed from her very pores as she trained her eyes on the opposite wall, where there was tranquil photo of the San Francisco Bay mounted.  She hoped it was effective enough to tranquilize her into keeping her composure.

“Back off, Owen.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.  Not this time.”  The disgusting pig had the nerve to drape an eerily soft hand over her knee and give it a squeeze.  That time, she couldn’t keep from flinching.  “I don’t like you hanging around with Jon Bon Jovi.”

What he hated was Charlie might compare him to Jon.  More specifically, that she might compare his success to Jon’s, and that was a riot.  There was no world in which Owen Foster compared to Jon Bon Jovi on any level.  Even if she hadn't been sleeping with the uber-sucessful Mr. Bon Jovi, any idiot could see how heavily the scales tipped in his favor. 

Just like Luke had been telling her since the beginning – even like the woman in the ladies’ room at the Can Do dinner had told her – Jon was a good, decent, hard-working guy from Jersey that would’ve been successful no matter what his chosen vocation.  The fact that he made his living with music was only a footnote.

She snorted and stood to slide out from under her husband’s touch, hitting him with a quick glare of contempt before returning her focus to the Golden Gate Bridge.  Was it wrong that she could envision pushing Owen off it? 

“Ask me if I care what you like.”

“You’d better care.”  His suggestion was geared to sound friendly to the casual listener, but it was actually a lightly veiled threat that was reinforced when he rose to drape a heavy arm around her shoulders and squeeze.  “I’ve let you get used to pushing me around because you pushed me in the direction I wanted to go.  Push me on this, though, and see where it gets you.”

Frankly, with him breathing down her neck, she didn’t give a shit where it got her.  For the first time, she seriously considered that maybe it was time to face the music and take the lumps she had coming.  It couldn’t be worse than this.

Could it?

“Owen,” she warned with all the cordiality she could muster.  “It’s been a very long and trying day.  I would advise you to back off and leave me the fuck alone, because I don’t currently give a damn about the stranglehold you’ve got on my life.  You won’t come out on top today, even if it means I leave this hospital in handcuffs.”

She felt a surge of triumph when his arm dropped away from her shoulders, and cruelly noted that there was no trace of his former handsomeness now.  There was nothing beyond sheer ugliness in both his face and the words that followed. 

“You’ve always been a cunt.”

For whatever reason, the universe wanted her husband to live another day.  What other possible explanation could there be for the surgery nurse to enter the waiting room that very moment and call, “The family of Caleb Foster?”

Because the reminder of her son was the only thing that saved Charlie from those handcuffs.