Worthy to Think the World Of

The sun was peeking out from behind the hilltops behind her, basking the town of Cannon Beach in a warm orange glow. The ocean, its violent waves subsiding to gentle rolls as they slid up and down the beach, reflected the sun’s brilliant light. Charlie sat with a mug of peppermint tea in her hands, digging her toes in the sand. She watched as Viola chased sandpipers along the shore, her paws causing little splashes in the shallow water.

A few people passed her, a woman on a morning jog and a couple taking their golden retriever out for a walk. Each greeted Charlie with a smile or a wave, and she lifted her fingers in return. She wasn’t used to being greeted in such a friendly manner and it took her off guard every time; if she received sneers and muttered insults then everything would feel normal.

She’d been in Cannon Beach for just over twenty-four hours, and had spent most of that time unpacking boxes and playing with Viola on the beach. Her mother, Rebecca, tried to get Charlie to come along when she went grocery shopping, but had received a simple no in return. Then, later in the day, her parents were going for a walk to explore the town. Charlie was actually organizing her books at that point, and had a better excuse to stay in the tiny house that was now her home.

Charlie glanced back, just able to make out the roof of the small yellow house above the fence. Visiting her Gran had always been one of Charlie’s favourite family trips. The last time they’d been in Cannon Beach, with the exception of the funeral, was when Charlie was eight. The only things she could remember about the trip were the trees, the beach, and how Gran’s house always smelled of lemons and peppermint tea. The beach and the trees were just as she remembered, but Gran’s house was empty and smelled of bleach.

A sigh escaped her lips as she turned her focus back to the water, and her throat closed up. The sandpipers were still there, scuttling along the wet sand, but Viola was nowhere in sight. Charlie leapt to her feet, ignoring the sear of pain as tea splattered her hand, and scanned the shoreline for the Cairn terrier.

“Viola!” she called, glancing in either direction. There were three figures about two hundred feet away, one distinctly human and the other two canine, chasing each other in circles. Charlie’s bare feet carried her quickly toward them, and she was able to make out the male laughing as he watched Viola and a border collie interact. “Viola!” Charlie repeated, her voice sharp.

The small dog’s ears perked up and her stunted tail wagged furiously as Charlie approached. Charlie cast another glance toward the man, who looked to be a few years older than her. His hands were tucked into a pair of ripped jeans and a worn-thin flannel was buttoned haphazardly over his chest. He had a mop of messy brown hair, a cigarette tucked behind one ear, and there was a few days worth of scruff on his jaw. He smiled at Charlie, taking a few steps toward her.

“Is she yours?” he asked, his gaze flickering between Charlie and her dog. He took in her bare feet and the mug in her hands, and the camisole and cotton shorts combination that revealed more skin than Charlie had shown in months.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice soft.

Charlie used to be a people person. She could carry a conversation with anyone, even if they had nothing in common. Those social skills were probably still somewhere inside her, deep down, but Charlie had completely forgotten how to interact with others. She could hardly even speak to her parents, much less this kind-of cute stranger who was taking his dog out at the crack of dawn.

“You’re new in town,” he observed, looking at her mug again. Charlie held it close to her chest, her fingers toying with the string of the teabag. “What’s your name?”

If this was Las Vegas, a stranger introducing themselves out of the blue was cause for suspicion. But Cannon Beach was a small town, and the only time the population went above 1500 was in the summer months, when the beachside hotels were filled with families and surfers and teenagers looking for an escape from their own homes. His curiosity didn’t come as a surprise to her, but Charlie wasn’t accustomed to anyone taking an interest (a positive one, at least) in her.

“Charlie,” she replied, after a moment of silence.

The man took another step forward, his smile amicable. “I’m Braden. And that’s Patch,” he pointed to the collie, who was leaping in and out of the water while Viola barked at her. Charlie nodded, waiting to see if he would say anything else. When he didn’t she called to Viola.

“We should be going,” she said, as Viola trotted up to her feet. “It was nice to meet you.”

“I’m heading in that direction, let me walk you back,” he said, and came up beside her. They lapsed into a comfortable silence all the way to Charlie’s gate, where Braden glanced up at the yellow house in curiosity. “This used to be Camille Stone’s house. I heard she passed away over the summer.”

Charlie tucked her hair behind her ear. She used to straighten her hair and make it shine, but now the wild blonde curls fluttered around her face and shoulders chaotically. “She was my Gran,” Charlie explained, staring at her feet.

“Oh, I’m sorry. She was a wonderful lady. She used to come into the shelter and spend time with the strays every week,” Braden said, his voice carrying a note of sadness. “I work at the animal shelter just outside of town. You should come by sometime. Patch and I could use the company.”

Then, with one last grin, he whistled to his dog and the two of them carried on down the beach. Charlie went inside and dumped what was left of her tea down the drain, tossed the tea bag out and set her mug into the dishwasher. With Viola trailing behind her, Charlie returned to her bedroom and shut the door gently behind her. Her parents’ en suite bathroom was only one room over, and she had a feeling her parents were just starting to awaken. Rebecca had her first shift at the hospital today and Russell was usually up before the sun anyway.

Charlie padded over to her two bookshelves, which were positioned in the corner of her room, her desk on one side and bed on the other, below the window. Her fingers slide along the spines she’d alphabetized yesterday afternoon. There were four hundred and eighty-six books on those shelves; novels, collected poems and essays, anthologies, memoirs and biographies, and even a few historical works. Before she became a social outcast, Charlie had enjoyed reading as much as the next average teenager. But when you had nobody to talk to, books became a sort of saving grace. She even started working at the bookstore near her house, but ended up quitting that job in June after a particular incident Charlie didn’t like to dwell on. Her wrist still ached whenever she thought about it.

She picked A Tale Of Two Cities off of one of the shelves and sat on her bed, patting the comforter in front of her to get Viola to jump up. The terrier curled up against Charlie’s crossed legs, resting her head on one of Charlie’s knees.

Almost four hours later, Russell was knocking on his daughter’s bedroom door. Charlie stretched her stiff limbs and got up to answer it, having not moved since she first sat down with her book.

“Your session is in twenty minutes. It’s right on the main street, so I thought we could walk. Your mother called the office yesterday and they said you’re welcome to bring Viola.”

At the sound of her name, the terrier hopped off the bed and scurried over. She blinked up at them, her tail wagging. “Okay,” Charlie replied. “Just let me get changed.”

“There’s coffee too,” Russell said before leaving to let her get ready.

Charlie pulled on a pair of light grey corduroys and a loose white t-shirt, shrugging a maroon wool cardigan over her shoulders. With deft fingers she wrangled her frizzy blonde hair into a braid and let it hang over one shoulder. Viola sat by the door patiently, her black eyes following Charlie about the room as she gathered up items and shoved them into a small leather purse. It bounced against her hip, the strap crossed over her chest, as Charlie left her room holding onto a pair of black Chucks.

There was already a take out mug filled with coffee waiting next to the percolator. Charlie slipped on her sneakers and went to take the mug, turning back around just as her dad came into the kitchen. “Ready to go, kid?” he asked, fastening the top button of his navy blue shirt. Charlie nodded, clipping Viola’s leash to her collar before they headed out the front door.

It was a short walk to the psychologist’s office. There was a name splayed on the glass door, declaring that a Dr. Anna Lynch was the practicing psychologist. It was on the second floor of a multipurpose building, and it seemed a little strange to Charlie to see a psychologist’s office below an art supply store. Russell went up to the front desk while Charlie took a seat in the waiting area, Viola’s leash in one hand and her coffee in the other. She took a tentative sip, testing the heat, and was satisfied to find that it was now cool enough to drink.

Ten minutes later, a woman stepped out of the unmarked office adjacent to the front desk. She was dressed relatively casual, in a pair of dark jeans and a lavender blouse. Her hair was once brown, but it was streaked with grey. Her eyes, Charlie noticed, were a soft hazel, and she bore remarkable resemblance to the man she’d met on the beach at dawn. Charlie wondered if this Dr. Lynch and Braden were related, since it wouldn’t be all that surprising in such a small town.

Russell said he’d be there to pick her up when her session was over, and placed a light kiss on the crown of his daughter’s head before she and Viola went into Dr. Lynch’s office.

“How are you today, Charlotte?” asked Dr. Lynch after she and Charlie had settled into the facing leather armchairs near the enormous windows of the office. They looked out onto winding streets and houses behind the building, and the forest beyond that.

“It’s Charlie,” she corrected, dropping Viola’s leash to let the dog examine the office. Viola sniffed every surface she could get her nose on, eventually wandering back over to Charlie and plopping down next to her feet.

“And what’s your dog’s name?”

“Viola,” Charlie responded. “Thanks for, um, letting her come with.”

Back in Vegas, Charlie had been obligated to attend weekly sessions with the school’s counsellor. They started shortly after Sarah broke her nose, and continued all the way until exams at the end of the school year. Apparently Sarah was forced to take the sessions as well, but whatever she talked about with the counsellor obviously didn’t stop her and her friends from tormenting Charlie both on and off school grounds.

“Is that after the character in Twelfth Night?” Dr. Lynch asked. Charlie noticed that she had a notebook resting on her knee and a pen in her hand, but she wasn’t writing anything down.

“It’s my favourite play,” Charlie replied. She was fine talking about this sort of thing. But whenever the subject of bullying or her loss of any social life whatsoever came up, Charlie shut down. It was hard enough for her to think about it, much less tell some complete stranger. She’d found that closing herself off made dealing with the harsh words and harsher slaps and shoves easier. If she didn’t react, they would leave her alone until the next day.

“Why?”

Charlie took a moment to answer. “Because it’s carried by a strong female character who doesn’t change who she is for anyone, even though she’s disguised as a man for most of the play.”

“Do you feel connected to the character of Viola?”

“No,” Charlie responded automatically.

“Why is that?”

“She knows who she is.”

“And you don’t?”

Charlie stared out the window, electing to stay silent.

“Why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling about starting school tomorrow?”

“How many kids go there?”

“480.”

“My last school had 2400 students.”

“Do you see the size difference as a negative thing or a positive one?”

“I’m not going to be a random face in the crowd at this new school. But then again, everyone knew my name at Durango High too.”

“Do you want to be a random face in the crowd?”

“I’m used to being stared at.”

“You didn’t answer the question, Charlie.”

“Sure. I’d love to live my life unnoticed. But unless I stay in my bedroom forever, that’s not going to happen.”

“Why?”

Charlie licked her lips, shifting in her seat. “Teenagers have boundary issues.”

The rest of the session was spent talking about Charlie’s likes and dislikes, what she liked to do in her spare time, and basically everything except for the serious stuff that her school counsellor had jumped right into in their sessions. Charlie found it easy to talk to Dr. Lynch, it was just like having a regular conversation where she wasn’t expected to reveal any of the dark thoughts lurking in her mind. It was nice.

When the hour was up, Dr. Lynch walked Charlie to the door. Viola was the first through, her nails clacking on the hardwood. Russell was sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting room, flipping through a magazine with disinterest. There was a new person in the room — a tall, broad-shouldered, boy-shaped person, leaning against the front desk and chatting with the receptionist. He glanced up when Charlie came through the door with Dr. Lynch behind her, chestnut curls falling into his moss green eyes. He wore a plain white t-shirt that bore an astonishing number of stains that looked like they were either dirt or some sort of oil or grease. Then Charlie noticed the paper bag on the desk.

“Hey, Mom,” he said cheerfully, picking up the bag and walking over to them. Charlie immediately headed for her father, keeping her eyes on her shoes. She could feel the boy’s eyes on her back, and tried to ignore the weight of his stare. Unlike the looks she’d suffered through in the past, his was hard to shake off.

“Charlie, wait a moment,” called Dr. Lynch. Charlie spun around, her hand tightening on her coffee cup as her eyes drifted past the green-eyed boy and rested on his mother. “This is my son, Forrest. He’s also a senior at Seaside.”

“Hey,” he greeted, his lips stretching into a smile that made Charlie weak in the knees. She blinked once and composed herself, offering a tight-lipped smile in return.

Then she turned back around and told her dad she was ready to leave. He thanked Dr. Lynch and rushed to follow Charlie out of the office. They stepped out into the sun and Charlie pulled her sunglasses over her eyes.

“How was the session, kid? Do you like Dr. Lynch?”

“She’s fine,” Charlie answered curtly. That Forrest boy’s smile was burned into her brain, and she didn’t like it one bit.

Charlie didn’t let herself think about boys anymore. The last one she’d liked was the worst possible choice on the planet, only she hadn’t realized that until it was too late. Because she’d let her emotions get the best of her, Charlie had lost not only all of her friends, but her virginity too. She’d promised herself then that she wasn’t going to let her emotions take control ever again, and whoever this boy with the strange name and piercing gaze was, he wasn’t going to get anywhere near her if she had anything to say about it.