Chapter 35

Going to Camp

The next day, Dad comes over. He and Mom sit on the back deck for a long time, talking. It is the longest conversation they’ve had in ages. When I walk by the glass door, I see Dad with his head in his hands, and it doesn’t look good.

When Mom sticks her head in the door and yells for the boys to come down, Charlie and I are lying on his bed. Charlie gets up and carries me downstairs with him. I understand. He needs me for support.

Charlie walks out onto the back deck without bothering to put his shoes on. The weather has warmed up, and he has adopted Dad’s habit of walking in bare feet around the house.

Kevin comes outside next, and he sits next to his mom. His face is pale, and he stares down at the wooden floor of the deck.

Instead of sitting in one of the chairs at the table like everyone else, Charlie sits a little farther away in a comfy lounge chair and plops me on his lap. We sink down into the cushion. Charlie rakes his fingers through my fur. I can sense that he’s nervous.

Dad leans back in his chair and studies Charlie. “Your mom and I have been talking.” His voice is hoarse and raspy, as if he’s been up all night. “We’ve decided that maybe the two of you need a break from each other.” Dad rests his hands on the arms of his chair and speaks calmly, but with authority. “And I think my apartment over in Ipswich isn’t working out. I can’t live by myself right now. I’ve been . . .” He closes his eyes a moment. Then opens them. “I’m drinking too much and I’m going to check myself into a special program as soon as possible.” He says this part quickly, speeding through it.

“A what?” Charlie asks.

Dad is going to a special program?

“It’s like . . . it’s like a camp,” Dad says.

“Oh my God,” Kevin mutters, bowing his head and dragging a hand across his forehead. “No it’s not.”

Dad clears his throat. “Okay, it’s not like a camp. It’s more like a hospital. It’s a rehab facility.” Dad looks sideways at his oldest son, who just rolls his eyes. “Anyway. I hope to be out soon, and after that I’m going to move in with Grandpa, right downtown. Charlie, would you like to come live with me and Grandpa for a while? Until Kevin goes to college next summer?”

Charlie’s face transforms completely. He sits up straighter, his eyes lighting up. “What?”

Kevin’s mouth drops open in surprise. He collects himself and interjects: “What? No. Dad. Why don’t I come live with you, and Charlie can stay here?” He shakes his head, as if Dad has gotten everything backward.

Dad look steadily at his oldest son. “Sorry, Kev, but your mom needs you here. She’s going to miss you when you go to college. More than you know. And I need you to stay here and keep an eye on your sister. I don’t like that kid she’s going out with. You’re the man of the house now. And you could probably use a better role model. Someone who is sober. Your mom tells me that Mark doesn’t drink much. That’s not his thing. So this is the way your mom and I want it.”

“Jesus, Dad.” Kevin’s eyes tear up. “I’m so . . . I can’t even look at you.” He buries his face in his hands.

“I know.” Dad’s face softens, and he nods. “I know you’re angry with me. For everything. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. We can talk once I’m done talking to your brother. You can say to me whatever you want to say. But you can’t take out your anger on your brother. Or Mark. Or anyone else.” Dad’s voice breaks, but he goes on: “You just can’t. You need help.”

“Help?” Kevin peeks up at his dad. “I don’t need help.”

“I’m sorry. I know how you feel. I don’t want help either. But . . .” He glances at Mom. “We both need it. And there will have to be a serious punishment. Your mom and I will talk about it. Look. The alcohol has got to go, once and for all. Completely. You’re a good kid, Kev. I know you are.”

Kevin, sensing Dad’s eyes on him, shrugs. “Okay.” He folds over and rests his head on his knees.

The grief is clear on Dad’s face, but he collects himself and turns back to Charlie. “So, buddy, what do you think?”

“Your dad and Grandpa would love to have you,” Mom interjects. “You could help keep your dad in line. Make sure he gets to his AA meetings. But only if you want to. And if your dad is drinking, if he has even one drink, you have to move right back here. Same day. No kidding around. Grandpa is going to enforce the rules.”

A smile plays on Charlie’s mouth. He blinks, those long eyelashes feathering down and then back up.

“Me? Well, I guess so. Sure. I mean, as long as you’re in town so I wouldn’t have to change schools, then why not? Would I have my own room? Could I decorate my room any way I want? Can we paint it? Would I be allowed to walk to the beach this summer and go get pizza and go to the coffee shop and the docks and whatever?”

Dad nods, and he brightens too, giving Charlie a weary smile. “Of course. Sure. Yeah. Why not. I mean, maybe. As long as you’re careful.”

“And I could have my friends over?”

“Yes. But let’s not get carried aw—”

“And my friend Ronaldo. He can come over sometimes too? Like, you know, to watch a movie or something?” Charlie blurts this last part out in such a rush that it takes a moment for everyone to process.

Dad gives Charlie a look.

“Okay. Sometimes. But I’m not promising I’ll like him. I might have to run a background check on him first.”

Dad says this in a gruff manner, but Charlie just smiles back at him.

And then he laughs.

“Okay. Yeah, Dad. We could try it.”

I’m happy for Charlie. I can tell he is very pleased. But . . .

Does this mean Charlie, my one true human companion, my very best friend, is moving out? Just as I feared?

He’s leaving?

I look up to study Charlie’s face, but he doesn’t notice me. Has he forgotten about me already, when I am sitting right in his lap?

Kevin wrings his hands and squirms in his chair, looking terribly uncomfortable. I think he is unhappy with this outcome, but he accepts it. He is the good older boy, and he will do what Dad commands him to do.

Oh! These humans. I feel frustrated.

When Dad and I make eye contact, he frowns. “We should only take one pet,” he says slowly. “I don’t want to overwhelm your Grandpa. Besides, that wouldn’t be fair to your mom, or Victoria and Kevin, to take both pets. So just one pet. The dog or the cat. It’s up to you.”

Charlie’s mouth opens, and he finally looks down at me in dismay. We both glance over at Gretel. At her sad, wet eyes. The way her ears stand alert. Her tail is not wagging. She looks forlorn.

Gretel only has eyes for Dad. She is so incredibly lost without him. He is her alpha, her true partner in life, her one and only. She would give up her life for him. Whereas I . . . I am a cat. I adapt. I adjust. Whoever feeds me earns my trust, and I certainly trust Mom.

I turn my head back to Charlie to say: It’s okay. I love you so much, Charlie, and I will miss you every moment of every day, but I think you should choose Gretel.

He gently touches the fur right between my eyes. My whiskers stand alert.

I’m startled when Charlie suddenly bursts into tears. I am usually very aware of how he is feeling, but this catches me off guard. He cries out as emotion washes over him. While cats do not cry, I imagine what it feels like: hot, sharp, and terribly unfair.

Maybe Charlie is simply relieved to have everything out in the open, to have a resolution. But change can be scary too.

Mom is instantly at his side. Hands rubbing his back. Cooing reassurances in his ear.

“Oh, Charlie. It’s okay,” Mom says.

“We didn’t mean to force a choice on you,” Dad chimes in.

Charlie waves them off. “Dad needs Gretel,” he insists, gulping for air. “We’ll take Gretel. I’m sorry. This is my fault. Everything’s my fault.”

Dad scratches his ear. “What is?”

Charlie waves a hand at his father. “Your stress. Your problems. Kevin told me. I’m the reason you—”

“No,” Dad cries out, visibly upset. “No, Charlie. Absolutely not.”

Mom runs a hand through her son’s hair. “No, Charlie. None of this is your fault. Please don’t think that for one minute.” She sits next to him on the lounge chair and rests a hand on his shoulder.

Charlie doubles over and crushes me, squeezing me against his chest. He sighs. “It’s okay, Lil,” he whispers, rubbing his face against my head, folding my ear back, his tears getting my fur wet. “I’m going to see you every weekend. Every time I visit. And it’s not forever. Just until Kev leaves for college. Not very long. And then maybe Dad will be better.” He wipes his eyes, and lifts his head to look around at his parents. “Dad will get better now, right?”

Mom shifts her weight, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe.” She rubs her cheek with the back of a hand. “Maybe he’ll be better. We don’t know yet, honey.” She glances at Dad and nods. “You’ll have to let me know every day what’s going on.”

Dad gives Charlie a small smile. “Your mom’s right. I don’t know yet, buddy. I’ve been trying but I can try harder. I don’t know what else I can do. We’re gonna to have to take this one day at a time.” The smile fades, and he taps a hand on the deck table. “Okay, Charlie. I hope to be in and out of the hospital in the next few weeks. So we’ll make plans. But right now I need you to go inside so I can talk to your brother.”

Kevin doesn’t look up. He continues to stare down, hands folded between his legs.

“Um, okay.” Charlie stands and hefts me up onto his shoulder. “Okay.”

He nods, head up, back straight. With a last sniff, the tears are done. Finished. Complete. He gives his head a quick shake, as if tossing off cobwebs. And we walk inside.

My brave boy.

My best friend.

My Charlie.