Age Is But a Number

Joe sighed heavily as he laid on his bed with his head hanging slightly off the edge, one hand on his chest with the other hanging off the edge completely, one knee up and the other leg lying on the bed. He looked up until he was looking at the upside down hallway from his open door. He could hear the sink going on and off from the bathroom on the wall next to his bedroom door; he could hear his younger brother brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth before singing softly, “There’s a world out there that we should see. Take my hand, close your eyes . . .”

Joe cleared his throat to get his brother’s attention and sighed overdramatically. When his older brother walked by his door and into the bathroom – not noticing his middle brother at all, Joe noticed crossly – Joe heard Nick ask the elder brother, “Where’s Joe’s cologne?”

Joe’s mouth gaped and he shouted, “Hey!” before flinging himself off his bed and rolling onto the floor with a thud. He tried getting up in a hurry to prevent Nick from getting the cologne in question but his foot got caught on his pajama pant leg and he fell face first on the floor in front of the restroom. He heard a rip; his pajamas had ripped.

His brothers stared in confusion – not in surprise because they knew as well as anyone else Joe fell on a daily basis – as Joe got up and blocked the cabinet under the sink with his leg, holding onto the doorframe and balancing on one leg.

“You know you just gave away where it was,” Nick said. He tapped Joe’s leg with his foot and laughed when his brother lost his balance and had a look of fear on his face. “Plus, you don’t need to fall three times in a row.”

Joe grunted, got up, and tried to stop Nick from pulling out the cologne. Eventually Nick got it out when he pinched Joe on the wrist.

“But I need to save it for my date,” Joe said as he pouted.

Nick scoffed. “You have a date?”

“He doesn’t have a date,” Kevin answered as he adjusted the sleeves of his blue button up so the long-sleeved white undershirt was showing when he rolled it up with his button up. “He wishes, but his wish sadly goes unanswered.”

“Well . . . I’m saving it for when I do,” Joe responded, holding the cologne close to him. “So use your own.”

“I ran out and forgot to get more,” Nick said, reaching for the cologne again but Joe pulled away. “Dude, let me have some!”

“No!”

“Please?”

“It won’t go with your outfit.”

“What?” asked Nick with a perplexed expression on his face. “You don’t make sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make any sense.”

“While you two fight over that little boy cologne,” Kevin said, breaking up the brothers’ little love fest he reached into the cabinets under the sink and pulled out an unopened, brand- spankin’-new cologne, “I will be using my purely manly cologne made only for manly men who can handle its manly man smell.”

As Kevin opened the cologne Joe looked down at his half empty cologne bottle, sniffed, and looked back up at Kevin. “My cologne’s manly,” said he.

“I don’t know,” Nick said, snatching the bottle from Kevin’s hands, ignoring his brother’s protests. He took a whif. “Mm, smells good.”

“You mean manly,” Kevin corrected him with a smirk.

“I’m using this,” Nick told Kevin before he began spraying.

“Hey!” Kevin and Joe shouted, coughing as they accidentally inhaled the misty cologne.

“Way to use up” - he coughed - “half the bottle,” Kevin said, snatching it away from his younger brother. “Now I can’t spray anymore or else we’ll smell too manly and we’ll hurt Joe’s self-esteem.”

“Whatever,” Joe said, holding his cologne bottle against his chest tightly. “I’ll be taking my extra super, more-manly-than-you cologne back into my man cave – for men.”

After Joe retreated back to his room and slammed the door behind him he heard Nick say, “And that’s why he doesn’t have a date.”

“Your face doesn’t -”

“Joseph if you say ‘Your face doesn’t have a date’ I’m going to shove your cologne down your throat,” Nick snapped back.

“Come on, Nick,” Kevin said, checking his watch and patting Nick on the arm with the back of his hand. “It’s time to go pick them up.”

Nick nodded, cheeks suddenly becoming warm, and taking a deep breath. He barely put a foot out the door when Joe ran out of his room and sprayed his cologne in his brother’s face before running back in his room and slamming the door.

“Dude, you’re mixing the - nonmanly cologne with the - manly one!” Nick shouted, coughing in between and waving the air in front of him.

.:-:.

Both brothers pulled up in front of the house and got out of their cars. Nick waved awkwardly at Kevin and pursed his lips, looking at the door nervously. He wiped his sweaty palms against his trousers as he walked up to the door with Kevin trailing behind.

The two brothers stopped in front of the door. Nick, after wiping the perspiration off his hands, ran his fingers through his hair. Kevin was doing the same, and Nick stopped. He and his brother put their hands in their pockets at the same time and Nick once again pursed his lips. So they are more alike than he realized. Great, he thought sarcastically but still smiled slightly.

He and Kevin stared at the door in silence, waiting for the other to do the knocking but neither did. Kevin pointed at the door with a look that said, “Am I supposed to do the knocking?”

Nick sputtered a, “Oh, um, I guess – I can – yeah,” before running his fingers through his short, curly hair and letting Kevin knock on the door. The sound echoed in Nick’s ears and he wiped his still sweaty hands on his trousers.

“Keep sweating and you’re going to have pit stains,” Kevin said, slightly amused at his brother’s nervousness – not that he was not nervous himself, it was just nice to see that he was not the only one going crazy.

Nick noticed his amusement and became embarrassed. “Sh, I’m not going to have pit stains,” he said, and was mortified when the door opened at that same instance. Crap, what if she heard that?!

But it wasn’t Caitlyn that stood before them it was Charlotte who, Nick admitted, looked beautiful and took a sideways glance at his brother. Kevin looked hypnotized, happy, and awestruck at seeing his date. He knew Kevin thought she wasn’t just beautiful; she was Charlotte.

“Hi,” Charlotte said quietly to Kevin and waved at Nick, who waved back. She looked back at Kevin.

“Tell him he looks nice,” Nick heard Caitlyn whisper from behind Charlotte as she handed her friend a purse.

Nick’s heart skipped a beat hearing her voice.

“You – you look spiffy,” Charlotte stuttered and blushed.

“Now you tell her she looks great, Kevin,” Nick whispered, smirking at Caitlyn as she came into view. She smiled at him and inched past her friend.

“She looks beautiful,” Kevin said in awe. “I mean, you look beautiful, Charlotte.”

Charlotte smiled bashfully and looked down. Caitlyn tsked, rolled her eyes, and pushed Charlotte into Kevin so they could hug. Caitlyn laughed with Nick and hugged him tightly. Nick smiled and rested his cheek against her head, loving the feel of her silky, smooth, jet-black hair.

“Well, see you later, brother,” Nick said, taking Caitlyn by the waist and leading her to his car.

When he reached his car he looked back at his brother and Charlotte to see the two of them heading towards Kevin’s car hand-in-hand. He smiled, winked at his brother, and got back in when Kevin winked back.

.:-:.

“I thought we were going to Johnny Carino’s?” Charlotte asked Kevin as the restaurant flew by. “We just missed it.”

“I decided to surprise you,” Kevin answered with a grin on his face. Charlotte raised her eyebrow. “You’re going to have to wait just a few seconds.”

He pulled up to her baseball diamond and she smiled. “We’re having our date here?” she asked and turned towards him.

He nodded. “I’m setting up a picnic for us,” he answered and exited the car. “Come on, you can help me carry some stuff.”

Charlotte opened the door and looked down to watch her step. She noticed that her leg and ankles were still slightly swollen and slightly green. Her eyebrows furrowed; it hadn’t gone down like she hoped. She noticed that her legs, ankles, and feet were swelling more often and, like at the softball game against the guys, feeling week and dizzy more quickly. This morning she woke up with her legs and ankles looking like this, and Caitlyn hadn’t noticed until she shoved her friend into this dress. . . .

“Charlotte, what’s wrong with your legs?” Caitlyn had asked, looking at her friend’s legs with concern. “That’s been happening more and more lately.” She reached down to touch them and Charlotte yelped, pulling them away.

“They’re sensitive, don’t touch them!” Charlotte spat. “They’ll be fine; it’ll go down, so stop worrying.”

Caitlyn sighed, knowing there was no use continuing on with that subject any further. She grabbed the now hot and ready curling iron and pointed it at Charlotte. “Come, sit. It’s time to do your hair.”

Charlotte groaned. She did not realize that getting ready for a date meant going completely out of her comfort zone of jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers. Not only had Caitlyn shoved her into a dress that she swore “makes her eyes pop!” but made her put on these things called sandals and got her to put on this colored liquid she said was nail polish. Those things were foreign to Charlotte and wondered why anyone bothered putting nail polish on their toenails. It was not as if Kevin was going to care about what her toenails looked like or what color they were.

When Caitlyn was finished painting Charlotte’s toenails is when she noticed her swelling ankles and legs.

“You make me put on a dress, wear sandals, nail polish and makeup” – she pointed at the eye shadow and mascara on her eye (the process was not easy because Charlotte kept moving and Caitlyn kept accidentally poking her friend’s eye with the mascara brush) – “and now you’re going to damage my hair with that infernal device?”

“And you call me dramatic,” Caitlyn said before grabbing her friend’s arm – and let go when she hissed in pain. “That’s sensitive too?”

“Only a little,” Charlotte whispered. She sat on the chair in front of Caitlyn’s vanity. “And yes, because you are dramatic.”

Caitlyn tsked. “I have only slightly dramatic moments daily,” Caitlyn said, grabbing a chunk of her friend’s hair and curling it around the curling iron. “You, on the other hand, have gigantic dramatic episodes every now and again. They’re like ten of my small dramatic moments put together times fifty.” She let the newly curled chunk of hair fall onto her friend’s shoulder. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, but,” Charlotte replied, feeling the heat of the curling iron get a little too close to her ear, “you might just burn off my ear.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Caitlyn said, and she rolled her eyes, which was a big mistake because the second she looked away she touched her friend’s ear with the curling iron.

“Ow!” Charlotte yelped, pulling away. She yanked on her hair that was still wrapped around the curling iron and yelped once more. “I’m done, I’m done! Get away from me! Kevin will still like me even if my hair is dull and straight.”

“Aw, someone’s finally coming to terms with a guy liking her,” Caitlyn teased and released the perfect curl. She patted it down and smiled. “It looks cute. I’m sorry you had to get hurt in order for it to come out perfect. Beauty is pain.”

“If my feet weren’t swelling I’d kick you,” Charlotte said, and rolled her eyes when Caitlyn didn’t laugh. “It was supposed to be a joke.”

“It’s not when the swelling hurts you, Charlotte,” Caitlyn replied, continuing the curling process. “I’m just worried. You’ve been feeling dizzier more often, and this isn’t the first time your legs have been swelling.”

“It happens with my heart disease.”

“Not two days in a row,” Caitlyn said, and the two thought of Charlotte’s swollen legs the day before.

Charlotte hadn’t told anyone and didn’t dare point it out because she felt there was no need to have everyone freaking out about it. But, staring down at her leg now, seeing its light green color, she was starting to wonder if Caitlyn’s worry was not as stupid as she thought.

“Charlotte, you okay?” Kevin asked, holding a blanket and basket of food.

Charlotte, standing up right away, said, “No, ‘course not.” She suddenly felt dizzy and leaned against the car for support. “Where’d you find a basket?”

Kevin smiled and also ignored her reaction, knowing that if she wanted to tell him what was wrong she’ll tell him. “We had it,” he answered simply, waving her toward him and walked back to the trunk.

Charlotte followed, running her hand along the body of the car to help hold her up and to keep from falling over out of dizziness.

“I figured since we were here at a baseball diamond,” Kevin said, pointing at the contents of his trunk, “I’d bring this along for us.”

Charlotte smiled. “Kevin, this is great,” she said euphorically, smiling happily down at the softball bags and bucket of softballs. “Really great.”

“Good,” he said. “Here, take this” – he handed her the blanket and basket – “and go ahead and set up while I bring the softball gear.”

Charlotte stumbled a little, but she went out to the grassy spot between the home dugout and the creepy, abandoned house to set up the picnic. If they were going to be hitting softballs around she didn’t want to put the food in the green patch out in right field where it would definitely get hit.

“Wanna bat and stuff before we eat?” Kevin asked as he set the softball gear in the home dugout. When he looked up at her face she nodded and ran over to him; she ran and was glad when she didn’t feel dizzy, just tired and slow.

Charlotte decided to pitch to Kevin when he teased that he could hit her fast balls no problem. She proved him greatly wrong when he struck out three times in a row and tipped the ball a couple times. She was laughing her head off when he threw the bat down. He jokingly begged her to “teach him the ways of great pitching” and she helped him, blushing when she fixed his positioning and stance, when she was close to him.

They also hit the ball around to see who could hit the farthest and Kevin tricked her into helping him bat correctly. He suddenly kissed her on the cheek when she was moving his hands to the right place on the bat and she gasped, touched her cheek, and said that he could learn how to bat correctly on his own. When he tried to get her to come back she shouted that she’s seen him bat and doesn’t need help. Kevin just laughed and just hit a softball.

For an hour they batted, pitched, and played around with the softball gear. Kevin agreed to help Charlotte practice a little on the positions she had trouble with. He complimented her by saying, “You play wonderfully, Charlotte, ‘cause you’re the greatest softball player ever – and the prettiest.” Charlotte blushed wildly and threw the ball unexpectedly at him, hoping it would hit him and laughed when he dramatically grabbed his ankle and hopped around in fake pain when the ball rolled on the ground and barely tapped his heel.

“Come on, cry baby,” she said to him, taking off the borrowed glove and catcher’s gear. “Let’s eat whatever food you brought.”

“I don’t know if I can walk,” he said as dramatically as he was acting. “I need help getting over there.”

“Fine, I’m eating without you,” she laughed and, when she turned around to walk to the picnic, she felt dizzy and lightheaded. She stumbled and grabbed onto the chain link fence behind home plate for support. The world spun around her and she tried greatly not to pass out right then and there.

“Charlie!” Kevin shouted, running towards her from the pitcher’s mound.

“I’m – I’m fine,” she said, clutching her chest, where she felt her hastily beating heart. “I think I just need to eat.”

She stood straight and let Kevin wrap his arm around her waist to help support her as he led her to the blanket.

She was relieved to sit down; her ankles and feet were so swollen now that it hurt to stand, and she saw that they were more discolored than they had been when she looked at them getting out of the car. Not only that, they were larger, more swollen and, unfortunately, more noticeable. Hopefully Kevin would not notice; she didn’t need him worrying over her – it would only make her panic.

“I have waters, diet sodas, and regular sodas,” Kevin said, listing off what there was in his basket. “For food, I brought potato salad, rolls, and apples and oranges.” He looked over at her and smiled. “I don’t eat fruit, so you can have as many apples and oranges as you’d like.”

“Thanks,” she said, and she smiled back, but she was afraid that it was going to be a nervous smile so she stopped and looked at what was inside the basket. “I’ll grab an orange.”

“Ick,” Kevin commented and Charlie laughed, and when she noticed her hand she gasped and dropped the orange. It was worse; she hadn’t realized it but it had gotten worse. That explains why it was hurting so much in the glove.

“Butterfingers,” Kevin laughed, and he reached for the orange at the same time she did. He would have joked about their romantic moment as their hands touched but he saw her hand, how it was slightly green and larger than what it usually is. “Charlotte,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Charlotte, what’s wrong with your hand?”

She pulled it back and messed with her hair. “Nothing,” she lied. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure doesn’t look like it.” He examined her engorged hand and frowned. “This is not good. Has it been like this the whole time?”

Charlotte began feeling weak, very weak, and her pulse was going a lot faster than it usually did - and it wasn’t because Kevin was holding her hand, but because she was having trouble breathing. She tried not to let Kevin see that she was struggling. Nonetheless she nodded, showing Kevin that she was having trouble.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have taken you to the hospital or something,” Kevin said, kissing her hand gently.

“And miss this date?” Charlotte replied. “No. It’s fine – it will be fine, too.” She pulled her hand away from him and reached over him to the basket. “I want some of that . . . some . . .”

She suddenly found herself lying down; her cheek was against the blanket and she felt the blades of dead grass poking it through the blanket. Her arm was extended with her hand half in the basket, half hanging over the edge. Her pulse rang like a gong in her ears, muffling the sound of Kevin asking her to answer him, and her heart beat hard against her ribs and a faintly painful way. She had trouble keeping her eyes opened and her eyelid fluttered, trying to get a good picture of her surroundings and get up on all floors.

Kevin helped her up onto all fours and rubbed her back as she tried to breathe. She hated being this way, especially in front of him. She was more afraid, though, than angry. She was too tired and felt way too weak.

She sat on her knees but hissed in pain because of her legs and Kevin wordlessly let her lean her back against him. He stroked her hair and let her catch her breath. She felt his hand lingering over her neck, where her jugular was, and apprehended that he was feeling her pulse beating rapidly beneath his hand.

“It’s faster than normal,” he said, and grabbed her chin to life her face up to him. “It’ll be fine, huh?”

“I didn’t want to ruin this, Kevin,” she whispered.

“It doesn’t matter,” replied he, “if you’re not safe.”

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a sloppy, wet kiss, though. That would not have been the greatest and the best for them; too unlike them. He kissed her cautiously; he remembered the last time he kissed her she slapped him. But this time she let him, and she wondered why she ever slapped him before. This was wonderful; the best first kiss out of all first kisses.

He pulled away and Charlotte smiled weakly. “Thank you,” she said.

“Now let’s get you out of here,” Kevin said, giving her a quick kiss. He helped her onto her feet, still letting her lean against him, and they began walking.

Then they heard something coming from behind them . . . from the abandoned house.

“She’s not going anywhere,” a voice said.

“Oh, God,” Charlotte breathed, and she looked at Kevin. Memories of his cut wrist and of him nearly bleeding to death flooded her brain.

“Except with me,” the voice said again, and he revealed himself from behind the rotting tool shed that was diagonally behind them. (It was usually hidden by the trees that were planted to hide it).

Harold Reynolds had returned.

This time, he was not letting Charlotte get away - he brought a gun to make sure of it.