280 Days

That night, Charles was alone in his apartment, lying on the couch, when he heard a knock at the door. For a split second he was sure it was Ina, and then he remembered that she was in Georgia.

"Who is it?" he called, hoisting himself up off the couch, trying to ignore the suffocating feeling that had hung on his chest since his last phone call with Ina.

"The King of Scotland!" the voice at the door called. Irvin barked twice, spinning in circles, his feet slipping around on the slick tile in front of the entryway. It was Danny. Charles drug himself to the door and unlocked it, sighing as Danny walked in, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a copy of Scorsese's Taxi Driver in the other.

"Thought you might need some company. And plus, Tess is out with her friends and the babysitter is home with the girls and I needed something to do," he said, walking past Charles and heading straight for Charles' liquor cabinet. "Let's see, one bottle of Sierra Batuco Cabernet , some Hennessey, and a bottle of fruit punch flavored MD 20/20. Charles, you make too much damn money to be buying MD 20/20. See?" he said, motioning to the bottle of Jameson he had tucked under his arm. "This is why I brought my own. Your collection is lacking severely, friend. Here, pop this in," Danny said cheerily, tossing the copy of Taxi Driver across the bar and into Charles' hands.

"Why are you here?" Charles asked, taking the DVD over to his television.

"Thought you might need a drink," Danny shrugged. "I did, you know."

Charles looked over at Danny, all hunched over the edge of the bar, running his finger around an empty cut crystal glass.

"When?" Charles questioned, sitting down on the edge of his dark oak coffee table.

"When Tess told me she was pregnant with Cecily."

They were both silent for a long moment, then Danny continued.

"I didn't tell you about that, did I?"

Charles shook his head.

"Yeah. I was so scared, Charles. So incredibly afraid. You remember. Four years, well, not an impressive span of time, but I was just getting my practice up. And Tess, well, she was still doing those chocolate syrup performance art pieces in poetry clubs. Neither of us were ready to be parents. You remember those shows, right? You went to one?"

Charles nodded and laughed, remembering seeing pretty little red headed Tess on corner stage at a downtown poetry club, completely naked save for a set of pasties and a teal bikini bottom, pouring Hershey's all over herself while reciting Sylvia Plath poems.

"Yeah, I went to one. It was a trip."

"And now she's at home with the girls, listening to We Might Be Giants sing the ABC's and testing out baby food recipes. A lot of things can change in four years. But then, when she was terrified and I was guilty, because that's a big part of it, Charles, the guilt, the uncertainty, the simple fact that Tess and I, two incredibly responsible, level-headed, chocolate syrup loving adults, we didn't know what to do. And I'm not here to tell you what to do either. Only you and Ina will be able to work that out. But for me and Tess, an incredibly terrifying event turned into the best thing that ever happened to either one of us. I can't imagine life without Cecily, life without Elise, life without Tess. I am so grateful for that mistake. And one day, you might be too. But today? Today, my friend, we drink. We drink and we watch Taxi Driver, because, like Robert DeNiro's character, we are men and we are a little bit crazy.

Danny poured whiskey into two of the glasses and brought them over to the living room.

"We are a little crazy, aren't we?" Charles took a swig of whiskey, grimacing.

"Well, you more than me. More ice?" Danny clucked.

"Please," Charles said, settling back onto the couch.

"Oh!" Danny said, suddenly fishing in his pocket. "Cecily told me to give you this."

Charles unfolded the piece of paper that Danny handed him and found a rather artistically designed stick figure with hearts drawn all around it. Above the stick person's head, the words "I love you bunches Uncle Charlie" was scrawled in huge capital letters.

"I think she has a crush on you," Danny mused. "But don't get any ideas. She's a little too young for you. Just a little."

"Hey, still a little raw here." Charles rolled his eyes and drained the rest of his liquor from his glass, snarling as it burned its way down to his gut.

"Sorry. Sorry. That was uncalled for. Humbert Humbert."

Danny fell into the easy chair, laughing hysterically, and though Charles tried to be pissed, he just couldn't."

"Glad you came over, Danny," he chuckled. "It's been too long."

"I know. It has. Tess and the girls miss you. Come over for dinner some time soon?" Danny asked.

"Sure. Absolutely," Charles smiled. "Nice movie choice. Haven't seen this one in a while. And... well, I haven't ever watched it with Ina, so no memories involved."

"Just pure psychopathic violence," Danny chirped, grabbing a bag of mixed nuts from the coffee table. They both settled into their seats and Charles pressed play on the remote and they they both grew silent, lost in the story.

"Charlie, what made you like movies so much?"

Ina and Charles were snuggled together on the couch, Ina's head in Charles' lap. He ran his hands through her long tangled curls as best he could, eyes glued to the Lee Marvin flick playing on his widescreen. He shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess... well, when I was young, whenever my mother went grocery shopping, she would drop me off at this dingy little movie theater by the store and give me a dollar fifty. Dollar for the ticket, 25 cents for a coke, and another 25 for popcorn. I'd stay there for as long as I could, just watching. The first film I ever remember seeing was Charles Laughton's The Night of The Hunter. It's a wonder I'm not scarred for life."

"Wow... that's incredible," Ina cooed, looking up at him. Charles smiled, about to reply that yes, it was incredible, how a lifelong passion for something could grow out of a childhood activity, but then she continued. "A dollar fifty for a ticket, a drink, and popcorn? Wow."

Charles rolled his eyes.

"Don't make me feel old, gal."

"Oh the times they are a-changin'," Ina sang off-key, wrinkling her nose. "I went to the movies this weekend. Paid 10 dollars and 75 cents for a ticket. Snuck in a can of coke. No popcorn to speak of. Broke college kid problems."

Charles laughed, pulling a lock of her hair.

"Broke college kid problems indeed."