The Words We Leave Unspoken(20)

We walk into the house, calling out for Olivia and Max when we are met with silence. And as we move through the kitchen, approaching the family room, we finally hear quiet voices.

I am shocked to find Ben Roth sitting on the floor of the family room playing cards with Olivia and Max, and Charley nowhere to be found. A million thoughts run through my mind. First, I’m feeling guilt and anxiety about the obvious fact that Charley knows about Ben, something that I’ve been keeping from her for sometime. Feeling immediately defensive, my mind runs through all the reasons why I kept this from her. But then another thought jumps into my head. Why is Dr. Roth here? Did something happen to Olivia or Max? My eyes frantically scan their faces. They look fine and in one piece. But surely, Charley had called him for a reason. And finally, I am left wondering why Charley is not here.

“Hi Mom. Hi Dad,” Olivia finally says, waving at us from where she is seated on the floor.

“Hi Love Bug,” I manage to say. “Where’s Aunt Charley?” I ask.

Ben stands and faces John and I. “Hi Gwen. John,” he nods our way. “Um, sorry to catch you off guard. Max had the stomach flu yesterday and Charley brought him into the clinic, just to be sure that he was okay. And he’s fine,” he assures me and then says, “I stopped by this morning, worried that Charley or Olivia could be sick. And Charley was pretty ill. She’s sleeping now. I hung around to keep an eye on these two.” He ticks his head to the side, motioning toward the kids and Max giggles.

“Oh my God,” I say, running to Max. I kneel down beside him and instinctively feel his forehead. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“I throwed up,” he said. “But I was so brave, Mommy.”

“I’m sure you were, Bubs.” My heart clenches at the thought of Max being sick without me here to take care of him. Why didn’t Charley call me?

“Well thank you, Ben. I appreciate you being here,” John says, as he steps forward and shakes Ben’s hand.

“No problem. Glad I could help,” he says in response. “Max seems completely fine today. I’ve been trying to get fluids in him and food as well, but he’s pretty stubborn. He hasn’t eaten much.”

I run my fingers through Max’s hair. “Thanks. I’ll work on it.”

“Well I should get going. Tell Charley that I hope she feels better soon.” He grabs his jacket off the back of the couch. “Bye Olivia. Bye Max,” he says and then adds with his finger pointing at Max, “Keep working on that strategy I taught you. You’ll be beating your sister in no time.” Max gives him a salute, nearly poking his own eye out and Ben smiles at him before facing John and I, holding his hand up in a subtle wave. “Bye. See you around,” he says, in that casual way you say to people who aren’t necessarily your friends but rather people you see fairly often for one reason or another.

“Thank you Ben, really. You didn’t have to stick around, but we’re so grateful that you did,” I tell him as he simply nods, smiles and leaves the room, letting himself out the front door.

I take a deep breath and look at John as he raises his eyebrows, knowing that Charley is likely to be pissed at me. I hug Olivia and go in search of Charley, hoping that she’s okay.

As I slowly push open the door to the guest room, I can barely make out Charley’s figure huddled under the bedding in the cover of darkness.

“Charley,” I whisper as I make my way to the bed.

“Hey,” she croaks. “You’re home.”

“How are you feeling?” I ask as I feel her forehead and brush her hair back from her face, which I can see clearly from the light pouring in from the hallway. Her cheeks are pale and hollow and she looks so young, reminding me of all the times she was sick as a child and I took care of her. All the times I would heat soup from the can in the microwave and then spoon it in her mouth while she lay in her bed, wiping the steady stream of broth from her chin with a paper towel. I would console her, rub her back and whisper words of encouragement, in the same way I did when she was sad or upset. I did these things knowing that my mother couldn’t get out of bed to do them herself. It was clear that she was suffering in a way that I couldn’t understand at the time. When our dad left, she became bitter and depressed. In my mother’s emotional absence, and given that I was the oldest by five years, I had assumed the role of Charley’s caretaker. Always with mixed feelings. I could never quite settle on feeling compassion or a bit of resentment toward Charley. Compassion because she was my younger sister and I loved her dearly and wanted desperately for her to feel safe and loved but resentful simply because she was my younger sister. And rather than spending my time playing with the other girls my age, fretting over petty matters like clothes and boys, I was wiping the tears of a five-year-old girl and making sure that she was clothed and fed.

“I think I’m better. How was it? How are you?” she asks and I can see her eyes grow wide as she searches my face waiting for an answer.

“It was fine. We had a great weekend, actually.”

“It was fine,” she repeats. “What do you mean it was fine? What did John say?”

“Well, I didn’t actually tell him,” I whisper as I look over my shoulder toward the open door like someone who has something to hide.

“You didn’t tell him,” Charley raises her voice.