I go straight to Dr. Keller’s upon arriving in Clemson. I wish, of course, that I could see Charlie first, but I do enjoy my job here. Dr. Keller even has some spare time today to speak with me about her own career, and what I’m hoping to do after I complete my undergraduate studies. She offers good advice, and tells me that I can always go to her with questions, or whenever I am in need of a recommendation.

Dr. Keller is a lot like how you might expect a psychologist to be. She is a careful listener, and doesn’t have to say much to get her point across, or to make you think more. She is soft spoken, too, but not discrete, necessarily. She is smart, and a bit intimidating – cold even, at first – but she has a necessary trustworthiness about her, and clearly honest intentions.

Dylan arrives earlier than usual for her appointment. She smiles and sits on the small couch across from my desk and asks how my holiday was.

“It was nice. It’s the first time I’ve been home since moving here in August. How was your Thanksgiving?”

“It was okay, I guess,” She pauses, looking down at her lap and pursing her lips. Her wavy, light brown hair is covering part of her face in its downcast state, but I can still make out the hint of a frown on her face.

“Was it harder to be around your family, after they all found out?” She looks up, flicking her hair from her eyes, “I mean, it’s so noticeable when they treat you differently, you know? My cousins, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents, even – they all treat me like I’m a piece of glass now. I hate it.”

“I remember that feeling. I don’t know how much it can be helped. You can’t control other people’s reactions to you, or to the things that have happened to you. Time will help them forget more quickly than you can though, that I know.”

She nods, “It’s hard to feel okay when people treat you like you’re fragile.”

I think a while before I say anything.

“I agree with you. It’s natural though, to treat the people we love like they’re precious, even when we know they’re strong. Your family may be extra cautious with you now, but you’re probably more conscious of it, too. Whether you like it or not, something has happened that has changed your life – and it’s changed theirs as well. You’re all just learning how to move on together. Like so many things, it’s simple and complicated.”

“That’s true,” she smiles.

We talk about lighter details then, until Dr. Keller collects her for her appointment.

After Dylan is gone, I apply what we’ve just talked about to my relationship with Charlie.

I realize that I am sometimes stubbornly against him babying me, because I feel like he wouldn’t if he didn’t know my past – though he insists otherwise. I also realize that I treat him like glass, when I talk about the future. I try to hard not to upset him, not to say the wrong thing about his profession, and how he doesn’t attend school – I wonder if he’s caught on.

It doesn’t change the fact that I wouldn’t ever want to say anything to hurt him, of course; but we should be able to be wholly honest with one another. I should take my own advice and not hold back so much about the matter, or treat him differently because of a choice that he’s made.

I hurry out of Dr. Keller’s office at seven and drive straight to Charlie’s. I have plenty of clean clothes thanks to my mom, and luckily, I have everything that I need for class tomorrow, so a trip to my dorm room is unnecessary.

Charlie insisted that I keep his house key, but I don’t need it tonight. I am still standing at the back, passenger side door with my head buried inside, trying to collect my bags when I feel his body press against mine, his strong arms wrapping around my waist.

I turn around slowly, standing straight again, and he kisses me before I get the chance to look at him. His soft hand holds my face, and I lean my cheek against his touch.

Even though we’ve spoken every day, and even though I thought of him every second, feeling him again – it’s like I’m being reminded that it’s real.

“I missed you,” He says, pulling away and smiling down at me, his bottom lip between his teeth.

He carries all of my bags inside, where Cooper excitedly begs for my attention. I sit on the ground and he immediately tumbles over, willing me to rub his belly. I oblige.

“Who took care of him, since Casey and Mason were out of town?” I ask Charlie, who sits on his couch now, watching Cooper and me.

“Mark actually stayed here, so he watched him for me.”

“Did they catch those men while we were away?”

“No,” Charlie responds solemnly, “Mark is insisting now that they won’t be back. He claims getting in trouble with the law won’t be worth the money that he owes them, and they’ll just stay away.”

“And what do you think?” I ask, standing up from the ground and going to sit beside him. He pulls me into his lap before I can sit down on the couch.

“I don’t think about it anymore, really. When I try to think, I just end up worrying. I don’t consider them the same thing,” He tries to smile at me, “I worry that they’re planning to come back, that someone will get hurt, that Mark will never get over this phase, that Mason will be affected more than he already is – I worry about everything.”

I stare down at him, and all I can do is nod slowly.

“I worry less when I’m with you though – you’re a good distraction.”

He places his large hand on the back of my neck and pulls me down towards him. He kisses my forehead, and then the tip of my nose, and then our lips meet. The conversation is over.

In a matter of minutes, Charlie has carried me to his bedroom, undressed me – leaving me only in my necklace, – and removed his own shirt. In the next instant, before we can go any further, his phone is ringing in his pocket.

“I wouldn’t take his normally, but it might be Mark or Casey,” he tells me apologetically.

“Go ahead,” I tell him, “I’ll just wait here.”

He kisses my neck once more before pulling his phone out and exiting the room.

I cuddle up to his soft pillows in an attempt to stay warm. I like that Charlie’s house is rather chilly most of the time, but not when I’m naked and waiting.

After several minutes, I start to worry that something’s happened. I stand up from the bed and find Charlie’s shirt on the floor – a grey sweater – and slip it on before exiting the bedroom. I call his name as I walk through the house, but I can’t find him anywhere. I can’t hear his voice, either.

I check every room, and then the back porch. I start back to the bedroom, intending to call him on my phone, when I pass by his closed, office door. I’ve yet to go inside – ever.

I press my ear to the door and listen for his voice, but hear nothing. I don’t expect to find him on the other side, I suppose, but I can’t stop myself from reaching towards the door knob once I’ve realized my own curiosity about the room.

People are so much more complex than we tend to give them credit for. And we should know – with every thought, every feeling, every experience that we, ourselves have each day – surely others are the same, in that they are equally as different from all others.

I felt so familiar with Charlie. But as soon as I enter the small office with stark white walls, tall shelves that surround a simple desk, and curtains that allow the natural light of the moon to illuminate its holdings, I become wholly mesmerized by the person whom I’ve come to know, and by the parts of him that I’ve just caught a glimpse of.

Five large easels are placed around the room; hanging from them, as well as scattered on the walls throughout the office, are detailed and intricate sketches of floor plans and building exteriors. Next to every artistic, freehand sketch is a scaled plot on graph paper with numbers and equations.

I walk further into the room, to try to understand what I am seeing. I don’t turn the light on; maybe because I feel like I shouldn’t be here, but also because the moonlight is enough for me to see by.

No wonder my physics homework was elementary to him.

I continue to study the drawings and plans – each seemingly more impressive than the one before it. A million questions pass through my mind, but I am too consumed by the precise art in front of me to retain any of them.

Suddenly, the light flips on overhead. I immediately gasp and spin around.

Charlie is standing in the doorway, frowning.

“I’m sorry,” I start, “I was just looking for you, and I thought –“

“It’s okay,” He says, taking a deep breath, “Let’s just go back to bed,” He attempts a smile, biting his lip to distract me.

“Back to bed?” I ask, laughing a little, “Did you draw these?” I turn back towards the easel that I’m standing in front of.

“I did.”

“These are amazing, Charlie. Have you ever shown these to anyone? Are they recent?” I start to move around the room again, finishing my tour of his work.

“I haven’t really shown anyone, no. My aunt and uncle knew that I – Can we just go to my room?”

I turn my head towards him, not moving my body from where I stand.

“Charlie, won’t you talk to me? I’ve never met anyone who could make things like this,” I gesture to the full bulletin board over his desk, “It’s interesting.”

“Plenty of people can draw, Stella,” he states with a bit of humor in his voice.

I roll my eyes, “Even I know that these aren’t just drawings, Charlie.”

He finally walks into the room and gently wraps his hands around my wrists, barely touching them, “I’m sure you can find an architect major at school who can tell you way more than I can. Come on. I want you.”

He smirks at me and starts to walk me out of the office, but I persist.

“Have you ever thought about doing that? Becoming an architect, I mean.”

He stops and sighs, letting go of my wrist and rubbing his hand over his eyes.

I think of my conversation with Dylan earlier, and decide to continue while I’m feeling brave.

“You can still do that you know, Charlie. You’re only twenty. It isn’t too late to go to school and –“

“So you’re finally admitting it?” He questions, resting his hands low on his hips and staring down at me with dark, serious eyes, “It bothers you that I didn’t go to college, doesn’t it?”

His voice is barely raised, but it still catches me off guard.

“No, Charlie,” I shake my head, trying to keep my own voice from coming out small, “It doesn’t bother me. But if you need someone to remind you that you can do whatever you want – go to school, keep boxing, anything – I’ll be that person.”

I stare up at him while I speak, but lower my head when I finish. I feel him step even closer to me. He carefully raises my chin with his hand.

“Stella, I know you always want to help, but you just need to stop, okay?” His quiet words aren’t sharp, but they are still cutting, “I’m not going to school. College isn’t for everyone – and it certainly isn’t for me. I love you, and I would do a lot of things for you, but I’ve chosen to be a boxer, and that’s what I’ll do, for as long as I can.”

I watch his lips while he speaks, not looking into his eyes. I feel embarrassed.

As much as I hate feeling like I’m being scolded, I almost want him to continue, because I haven’t a clue what to say, and the usually comfortable silence between us is unnerving at the moment.

He must sense my discomfort, because he places both of his hands on either of my arms and lays a light kiss on my forehead, “Baby, please, just come to bed.”

He takes my hand and leads me from the office. As he stops to turn off the light and close the door behind us, I let go of his hand and continue into his room.

I sit down on his bed, thinking about what’s just happened, and within seconds, he is walking through the door.

My arms are crossed in my lap and I look towards the bathroom. I still can’t look him in the eyes.

“Stella, please don’t be mad at me now. I have too many other things to worry about.”

Irritation is evident in his voice. I know I can’t just stay quiet anymore.

“Charlie, you can take care of me all you want, but I’m not your child to discipline. I get that you are a boxer, and that you made this choice for yourself, but you don’t have to tell me to ‘stop’ when I hint that there may be other things out there for you.”

I stay calm, but Charlie begins to fidget. He runs his hands through his hair and lets out a heavy sigh. Then, in two strides, he is beside me, plopping down on the bed and leaning his elbows against his spread knees.

“You expect too much from me, Stella. Everyone else is fine with what I do, why can’t you be?” His voice isn’t loud or pushy. Instead, there seems to be a plea behind it.

I can tell that he wants the conversation to stop, for us to just be together and go on like we have been. I give him false hope by scooting closer and allowing him to pull me onto his lap. I straddle him and kiss his lips, but pull away when I feel his hands pushing up at the hem of his shirt that I wear.

I touch his rosy lips with my fingertip and look into his blue eyes, “I see your potential. It isn’t about expectations.”

He stares at me with a blank expression for a moment while I trace his lips, and the blissful quiet misleads me into thinking that we’re okay.

He removes my hand from his lips in a swift gesture, “You are selfish.”

My brow furrows, and before I know it I am being lifted from his lap and left standing alone as he paces to the other side of the bed.

“You wonder why I treat you like a child? You act like a damn child, Stella! You can’t take care of yourself – God knows – and you think you can take care of everyone else. Why do you want me to go to school, anyway? So you can parade around to your friends and family and proclaim that you’ve saved me? Am I just your first patient?”

“No,” I answer quickly, raising my voice to meet his.

He throws the covers back, but doesn’t sit down on the bed. He stays facing me, his eyes burning into mine.

I don’t know how to fight with people. I don’t even really know how to stand up for myself – I never have, even before Jason.

I never thought about having to stand my ground against Charlie, though. As angry as I am at myself for it, I recoil further into my own head with every word that he says to me, until I hardly feel like I am in this familiar room, with this familiar person whom I love.

I stare off, and bring my trembling fingers to my lips, still not saying anything to him. He suddenly softens, falling forward to rest his hands on the mattress, and letting what must be his tenth sigh escape from his lips.

“I’m so sorry, baby. This isn’t your fault. I’m just stressed out. I don’t feel that way at all.”

“It’s okay,” I say, defeated. It isn’t, but I don’t know what else to say.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He moves onto the bed and reaches out for me, taking my hand that still rests on my mostly speechless lips and guiding me onto the bed. He covers us both with the blankets and kisses my cheek, asking me to please turn off the lamp, which is the only light on in the room – in the whole house, actually.

I can’t be with him now. I think, in a panic. I need to leave.

“Stella?” He asks, “Please talk to me. I’m through being an asshole, I promise.”

He sits up in the bed, proving to me that he is willing to talk, but I stay still. He starts to push the hair around my face back with his soft fingers.

“I love that you care so much, Stella. I’m just not used to it, I guess,” He tries to explain, but I’m too far away already.

“I just remembered,” I say, sitting up in bed, “I told some people that I would meet them for breakfast early tomorrow morning. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.”

I throw the covers off of my body and scoot from the bed. I know I haven’t fooled him – it was strange and sudden, not remotely a good excuse, and I’m a terrible enough liar as it is.

“We can wake up extra early – I can set an earlier alarm. I can –” Charlie tries to pretend that I haven’t just told the most obvious fib – like I’m not trying to escape.

“No. It’s for a group project. I need to finish my part tonight and I forgot the folder that I have everything in…” I stumble with my reasoning as I change out of Charlie’s shirt and back into my clothes.

“Stella, what are you doing?” Charlie asks as I lay his sweater across my side of the bed and hastily grab my bags.

“I’m going back to campus, Charlie. I need to work.”

He shakes his head, and I can tell that his eyes are starting to water.

“Please just talk to me. I’m so sorry. I won’t yell at you again, ever. I’m sorry.”

“Charlie, I can’t talk now. I have other things that I need to do. I came to Clemson to go to college, you know. School has to come before everything else.”

I feel like an absolute bitch, but if I weren’t being a bitch right now, I would be crying and crawling back into bed.

Charlie rubs his eyes and mumbles something as I search my purse for his key, well aware of how much I’m hurting him.

“Let me drive you? You can leave your car here. Here, let me carry your bags to my car.” Charlie quickly climbs out of bed, grabbing his sweater and slipping it over his head.

He walks around the foot of the bed, but before he makes it to me, I have found the key in my purse, and I hold it out for him.

He looks down at the key with a broken expression.

“I don’t need you to drive me, or carry my bags. I’ll just see you later, okay?”

When he doesn’t reach for the key, I turn from him, dropping it onto the nightstand and leaving the room.

He follows me down the hallway, into the living room. He doesn’t speak until I reach the door.

“Stella, I know you’re mad, but I’ll make it up to you. I may not be in school, but I can take you to new places, and show you new things, and I’ll compensate for everything that I lack, if you let me. I might baby you, but you take care of me more than I could ever take care of you. I meant it when I said that I love you for the ways that you help me. No one helps me like you do, and I’ve never loved anything, or anyone like I love you. Please, don’t leave.”

My hand touches the doorknob, and I know that I should stay – that I want to stay, but I need to be alone tonight. I feel bad about what he’s said to me, and I feel even worse about what I’ve said to him, and I’m tired, and I don’t even want him to love me right now.

I can’t face him. I just open the door and start out.

I turn to close it behind me, keeping my eyes cast down towards the ground, “I’m sorry for going into your office, Charlie.”

I hurry to my car then, shoving my bags into my back seat before I have the chance to change my mind. As I pull out of the driveway, I let a sob escape, and I end up crying so hard that I nearly have to pull over.

I forgive myself for the tears. Leaving home twice in one day would be a lot for anyone.