***

3 months later

I lie in bed alone, listening for some sign of Charlie moving about in his office. It’s been fifteen minutes since he left the room angry, after another one of our arguments about the fall.

Charlie had let me take my time and consider his offer, not pushing too much until just a few weeks ago.

Gloria, his neighbor, had stopped by to bring us bread that she’d baked as compensation for our cookies. She told us that she would be putting her house on the market soon, though she regretted the decision already. Her daughter was still adamant that Gloria live closer to her – to someone in the family – and there were still no houses available nearby for her daughter to purchase.

Charlie and I turned to each other as Gloria explained her situation, and I’d given him a slight nod before he had turned back to her with a defeated sigh, and admitted his plans to move, come early fall.

Before that day, Charlie had still been making threats to stay in Clemson if I refused to move to New York with him. But less than a week after Gloria’s visit, a real estate contract had made his decision final.

Since then, he’d become more angry with my continued resistance; and his begging, his attempted convincing, had turned to fighting.

“Where will you stay? You haven’t signed any contract for next year,” he yells.

“I’ll figure it out, Charlie,” I say tiredly, repacking my backpack with a textbook and notebook. I couldn’t concentrate on studying any longer, not when he was angry with me.

“Of course you will. I suppose you don’t want my help, anyhow. We’re too young to be so involved with one another.”

“You know how much thought I’ve put into this, Charlie—” I attempt to yell back at him, but my voice breaks, so I turn my head back down towards my backpack and pretend to resituate my books.

He lets out a deep breath and within seconds I feel his arms wrap around me from behind.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m just not ready to give up on you coming with me. I’m sorry.”

And that’s how many of our fights went. Sometimes, it would be me who apologized after pushing too far. Regardless, one of us would give in before the other broke down, and we would come together again.

Tonight though, neither of us gave for the other.

We’d showered together, and he’d wrapped me in a towel and backed me into the bedroom after, his lips not leaving mine. Just as we’d reached the bed though, he had pulled away suddenly, turning with his back to me and rubbing a hand over his face.

When I asked what was wrong, he turned back, his eyes red and watery.

“What’s the point of this, Stella?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask defensively.

“You have absolutely no remorse about us being apart next year, and however many years after that. You can’t blame me for believing that you’re just going to find someone else to play house with and forget about me.” He doesn’t yell, but his words hit me harder than any shouting could have.

“Are you kidding me? I love you. I’d rather be away from you than watch you miss out on an amazing opportunity. Do you really think that all would add up to me just finding another guy to hang out with when you’re gone?”

He shakes his head and looks down at his feet.

“I’m the one who should be worried,” I say, more quietly, sadly, “Do you not see the potential that you’ll forget me when you’re traveling with your uncle? Or when you’re in the city alone, without me tagging along everywhere?”

He scoffs and turns again, this time continuing into the bathroom.

I sit down on the bed and wait. Charlie emerges from the bathroom after only a few moments, dressed in the jeans and shirt that he’d worn before our shower.

“I’ve given you every reason I possibly could to trust me,” he says, “Not to mention, I told you a thousand times that I would stay for you, and you reject me! No matter what, you push me away.”

He runs his hand through his hair roughly and starts out of the bedroom, but he does not make it into the hallway before I get another word in.

“You know, your constant nagging doesn’t really make me want to go anywhere with you,” I said harshly. “And if I do find someone else to ‘play house with,’ I hope they listen the first time I tell them that I don’t want to do something.”

Charlie stops in the doorway, turning to glare at me. But before he can turn away, his glare melts into an expression of hurt and betrayal, and he walks from the room without saying anything to me.

I hear Cooper pad over to the bed and sit down beside it. I roll onto my side and find him staring up at me with begging eyes.

“Hey, buddy,” I smile weakly, reaching over to pet his head. He stays beside me for only a few moments before returning to his own bed. Rather than lie back down, I crawl out from underneath the covers and walk slowly into the hallway, stopping at the closed door of Charlie’s office.

Just as I’m raising my hand to knock at the door, I begin to hear rain against the windows and roof.

“Come in,” Charlie says upon hearing my quiet taps.

I push the door open slowly, peering in towards his desk. He sits in his brown leather desk chair, with his back to me.

He doesn’t turn around; he stays engrossed in whatever is on his desk – likely New York apartment contracts or something from his uncle.

I walk slowly, laying my hand on his shoulder when I reach him.

“I can’t believe I said those things to you. I’m so sorry,” I say quietly.

He breathes a sigh and sits up, turning towards me in his chair, and away from his work.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry too. I know it’s your choice, and I know that it means more to you than I understand.”

He pauses, his eyes trailing over my body, clad in only one of his softest tees.

He looks much older, sitting at his desk with a spread of papers and his laptop in front of him. But it isn’t only the setting that contributes to his look of maturity. Despite his sometimes boyish appearance, and his preserved sweetness, I silently consider the fact that Charlie was likely never fully youthful, even as a child.

“Come here,” he says finally, opening his arms to me.

I sit in his lap with my back against one of the armrests of his chair, my legs bent over the other at my knees. He keeps his arms wrapped around me as I settle into his hold, and I lay my head against his shoulder. I watch the rainfall against the window straight in my line of sight, and now and then, I see lightening and hear soft rolls of thunder. Charlie reads on his desk, rubbing circles against my skin while he holds me.

The office is lit only by a desk lamp, and what light seeps through the window. But in a moment of illumination from a brighter lightening strike, I notice a familiar sketch hanging on the wall in front of me. It is done in pen, on a different canvas than the others – a torn piece of a brown paper bag.

I think back to that day on the hill, when Charlie had first allowed me to watch him sketch. Since then, I’d sat beside him while he worked on other sketches, but that day was still special.

With his simple plans, he’d made a promise to me – a promise to build something solid for us in the future, a place where we could feel safe, and at home. He’d made this promise by allowing me into his mind, where he could create something and manifest it onto paper in order to show me that he saw something more for us.

Yet, I continue to allow myself to believe that giving up plans that I’d made for myself would definitively and unquestionably make me less, despite the potential of better opportunities in the city.

I bring my fingers to my lips and tug at them while I stare at the sketch. I do not notice that I’ve tensed until Charlie speaks.

“What’s wrong, baby? Relax,” he says quietly. He leaves his papers for the time being, and leans back in his chair. As his arms bring me closer to him again, my head finds his shoulder. I feel his fingers tug at the ponytail holder in my hair, which I’d put up in an attempt to avoid getting it wet in the shower. He tosses the band onto his desk and begins to play with my hair.

Neither of us speaks for a long time, but rain and thunder fill the silence.

When my eyes are past the point of heaviness, I whisper, “I’m going to fall asleep if you keep playing with my hair like that.”

I feel his quiet laugh in his chest. “I’ll carry you to bed after I’ve read a bit more,” he says, though he isn’t reading now, “Just sleep.”

Before I drift off, despite my sleepy haze, another memory plays itself vividly in my head.

It is of our third night in Savannah together. Charlie had taken me to a drive in theater thirty minutes out of town, one that he’d been to a lot growing up with his family. The theater hadn’t been open since the early fall, and would not fully open again until spring. But the owner had decided that a special screening should be held a few days after New Year’s – in honor of new beginnings, I suppose.

The night was chilly, but not dreadfully so. We’d brought plenty of blankets and worn warm clothes. I’d stayed awake through the entire movie, but had fallen asleep on the drive back to Charlie’s aunt and uncle’s house.

He’d carried me to bed, like he promised to tonight. He’d taken off my layers and left me in only his lightweight, grey sweater that I’d borrowed for the night.

After he had covered us under the sheets and pulled me close to him, he kissed my cheek and spoke quietly against my hair.

“I wish you could understand that I’m only doing all of this for you,” he says, “Why would I do something for you that will only separate us?”

Half asleep, I still understood perfectly what he meant. I thought to respond.

"I'm not enough yet for you to rely on me like that. I'm still learning how to be myself in love and it scares me to matter so much to you."

The words had come out so clearly in my head that I was sure I'd said them. But when I heard the switch of the lamplight and I felt Charlie settle into bed beside me, pulling me close, I knew that my thoughts hadn't translated to words.

Although the storm does not continue into the morning, the sky is heavy with clouds as I drive to campus. Charlie still likes to drive me to school and work when he can, but I know that today is busy for him, so I convince him that I’m alright to drive myself for a day.

I have two classes that morning, and then a break for lunch before I need to be at Dr. Keller’s office to work. My schedule had changed in the new semester, of course, but I still managed to keep my jobs at both the café and the office.

Rather than go out somewhere for lunch, I grab something quickly on campus and make a trip to my dorm for the first time in over three weeks.

When I enter, the space looks even smaller than it had before. Charlie and I had moved most of my things to his house after winter break, leaving my side of the room mostly empty. On my desk, I notice a hot pink notepad sheet held down by the corner of a picture frame that I’d left.

I walk over and lift the frame, taking the note in my hand. I begin to read Andy’s large, excited handwriting – devoid completely of punctuation, with the exception of exclamation points:

Hey girl!

One of my friends and I have signed for an apartment next year and we’ll have three bedrooms so if you’re looking for another space to call your own while actually living with your boyfriend be my guest!

MISS YOU!

The note seemed to come at a perfect time, and I’m thankful for my decision to stop by my room. I settle onto my bed and dial Andy’s number.

“Long time no talk. What’s up?” She says immediately.

“Hi! It has been too long. I’ve just been back to our room and I saw your note. Is the offer still standing?” I ask hopefully.

“Wow, it really has been forever. I wrote that weeks ago. Must’ve forgotten to take it off your desk. I’m sorry, but I sort of made an impulsive decision to move back to Atlanta for school next year.”

“You did? Why? I thought you loved it here?”

“I do! Did,” she corrects, “I get bored with things easily – you can imagine.” She laughs, and I nod, though she cannot see me. “And anyway, there are just more opportunities for me in a bigger city – not only in the way of boys and clubs, but for my career, too.”

“That’s true,” I agree, feeling as though I’m mocking myself.

“I can give you my friend’s number, though! She may still be looking for someone to sign with.”

“No, that’s alright,” I say, “Thank you so much though. And I’m sorry for never being here. If you ever need company, you can always call.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer sometime,” she says, “Just as long as your boxer brings a friend.”

I take in a deep breath as I hang up the phone. I hadn’t really begun to fret about where I’d be living next year, but now I’m realizing that my options really are limited. I’d spoken to my friends and acquaintances – none of whom I’d seen much of since I started spending my time with Charlie, – about their plans for next year when I had seen them out. It seemed like all already had contract and roommates.

I decide to call my mom for advice. I’d already told my parents about the entire situation, of course. But I’d said all along that I wasn’t comfortable moving to another state for the sake of being with someone.

They had both reacted rather calmly, like they knew it was coming, which I found strange. Neither my mother, nor my father pushed me to change my mind. But they didn’t say that they found my decision to be the best one, either.

The one time that I did subtly ask for my mother’s opinion, she had simply said, “You are very young, yes. But it never hurts to entertain ideas. It’s not always wrong for new plans to become more important than old ones.”

It wasn’t definite advice, exactly. Perhaps she will have a stronger opinion now though, knowing how quickly the fall is coming.

“Hi, Stella Lou,”

It is not my mom who answers the phone.

“Dad? What are you doing with mom’s phone?”

“I came home for lunch again. You’re mom is trying to move a tree in the backyard, and I just wanted to watch for a few minutes before I go to help her,” he laughs into the phone.

“A tree?”

“A small tree. What’s up, sweetness?”

“I’m conflicted,” I admit.

“Ah,” he says, “And what are you conflicted about?”

I open my mouth to say the simple words, “moving to New York,” but I stop, and I think for a moment.

“I’m conflicted about whether or not I’m ready to not be alone anymore. What is it like to be married?”

“Did Charlie—” his voice lowers.

“No,” I say quickly, “God, no. But to be with someone all the time, to allow someone into your life in an irreversible way – somewhat irreversible, I should say – what is that like?”

“Well,” he laughs a bit, “I guess that depends. If you allow the wrong person in, it could be an absolute nightmare. You’ve heard the bitter endings. People do terrible things to each other, and even their happiest memories make them bitter, and you’re glad when it’s over, even if you’re penniless and alone.”

“Oh, melancholy,” I say, “And if it’s the right person?”

“It’s heaven, every day,” he says, “Not every minute of every day – God knows. But at some point each day, you’ll feel like you’ve been given more than you deserve – and that is enough.”

I stay quiet for a moment, and then I ask my question blatantly, “Do you think I should move with Charlie?”

He sighs, and then he says, “Your happiness is all that matters to your mom and me. You know that, don’t you? You’re young, but you’re smart, and you’re strong. If you make the decision to move with Charlie and things don’t work out, you’ll be okay again,” he pauses. “But you know what? I have a feeling things will be just fine.”

“So you don’t think it’s irrational and stupid? We would be living together – officially so. He would be my life there, and I would be his. Isn’t that too much for us yet?”

“You’re forgetting that being young is a perfect time to make these mistakes, Stella. You can move, and change your mind, and move again. You can change your mind about people and places, and things and jobs. You can do anything, and we’re here to help you. And I know you and Charlie love each other, and I’d say that’s a decent start to anything.”

“But it would be expensive. You remember how much some of the schools I applied to in the Northeast cost.”

“It’s damned expensive,” he laughs, “But your mom and I made decent money, and we only ever really had you to save for. We’ll make it work.”

I tap my finger against my lip, finally truly allowing myself to consider the possibility.

“Stella?” my dad interrupts my thoughts, “I’ve got to go now. The tree—”

He starts to laugh again.

“Okay, go,” I tell him, “Thanks for the talk. I’m still not moving, as of now. But I will keep you posted.”

I collect a few things from my room – spare notebooks and pens, and some makeup that I’d left – and I leave for the office.

Thirty minutes after I arrive at Dr. Keller’s and take the desk over from Lydia, Dr. Keller emerges from her office following Dylan. Most days, she would wait until after her second appointment, who already sits on the sofa in front of me, before coming out to say hello. But today, I can tell that there is intent behind her approach.

I wave at Dylan as she sits down on the opposite end of the couch as the boy who waits for his appointment. She still visits Dr. Keller regularly, and she always chats to me while she waits for her mother to pick her up.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment, Charles,” Dr. Keller says to the boy, leaning against my desk.

“How’s the day been?” I ask her.

“Great, I got an interesting email that I wanted to share with you,” she starts. “Sometime in January, a clever little boy told me that you might be thinking of moving next year.”

I can’t hide my amusement as I answer, “Yes, sort of.”

Mark and Casey had made Mason appointments with Dr. Keller sporadically in the first months after the events with Mark’s “loaners.” Of course, being the selfless little boy that he is, Mason had not forgotten my promises to him, and he was doing as much as he could to make sure that Charlie would not have to move alone.

“Well,” she continues, "I'd been looking for internship and job opportunities with people whom I know in the city, so I could send references for you. I finally found something that I think would be perfect for you. You’d be doing similar things to what you do here, but the office is larger and much busier. There would be more doctors whom you could learn from. The job even pays a little – not much, but it would be an excellent learning experience. They said that they would love a phone interview."