His Deepest Secret

Tomorrow came. The sun arrived on time like it always does, letting its rays spread over inches of the city as time passed.

But today, the sun didn't expect the clouds to stop most of its light from shining down. Raindrops came instead, falling down onto every window of every skyscraper, building, store, and house in the big city.

Like the sun, Charlotte wasn't expecting something. She believed he was most likely sick or something and that he would be back today. When she sat at lunch, she noticed his absence. Twice in a row.

Hmmm. Maybe he has a fever?

Charlotte picked at her lunch, trying not to think about Anderson. Continuously, she would look up and glance over at his table. Yet, again and again, there was no sign of Anderson.

"CHARLOTTE!"

Charlotte finally snapped back into reality to see her best friend sitting across from her with a pissed off look. "Are you serious? You can't even fucking pay attention for one minute on what I'm saying?"

"Wh-what?" Charlotte stuttered, feeling confused.

"Exactly! My point right there. You would know what I was talking about if you actually listened!"

"I-I'm sorry. Tell me again?" Charlotte asked.

"No. I tried telling you three times already. All you keep doing is looking over at that fucking table where Anderson usually sits. It's really shitty you won't listen to your best friend tell you about problems she is having, but instead, you will worry about a guy you don't even care for. . . supposedly."

Alissa stood up, threw her lunch in the trash can besides the lunch table they were sitting at, and walked away. She never acted like this.

Charlotte stared down at her food. Alissa was right. Charlotte is the worst best friend. Guilt set deep into her bones. The happiness Charlotte was trying so hard to have and maintain was wiped away with Alissa's words. Every negative thought that could enter her mind would. Depression. Just great.

"Fuck!" Charlotte whispered. She roughly picked up her lunch and threw it down hard into the trash can. She grabbed her backpack and began walking to class, knowing the bell would ring in two minutes. Once she reached the massive three story building, she went straight into the huge hallway and to her English class.

Rinnnnnnng! Rinnnnnnng!

The bell sounded right as Charlotte opened the door to Ms. Heinegan's classroom. She quietly sat down in her seat, put her back pack on the floor beside her desk, and rested her head in her crossed arms that were laying on top of the flat surface of the desk.

Eight minutes later, class started. Ms. Heinagan began lecturing. Charlotte never began paying attention. She started to daydream about Anderson, replaying the scene that had happened from last night over in her head.

He kissed her. Insulted her. Drove her home.

Two days and no sign of him.

She hates him even more. She is confused more than ever about who this guy truly is.

Yet, the project needs to be done. She'd have to suck it up and get through the rest of the project.

The scene played again in her mind. Anderson's soft lips pressing against hers, moving passionately. Her body shuddered at the thought. Yet, a different part of her found that kiss to be new, mysterious, and shocking.

Where was that asshole anyways?

"Three more days and the versions are due!" Mrs.Heinagan told the class. A second after, the bell rang. Perfect timing.

Today, she had to copy down half of his versions. She didn't care what he said, she would be at his front door afterschool.

That asshole would give her his versions to copy and she'd give him his.

---

Charlotte stood there at his front door, knocking on it. She stood there, waiting for three minutes. Nobody came to answer the door, though. She waited two more minutes, then knocked harder.

Suddenly the door opened.

"What?" Anderson asked.

He stood there in sweats and a hoodie. His face looked dark.

"I need your versions. I have to copy them for the project. They're due in a few days."

"Hold on." Anderson shut the door on her face.

Two minutes later, the door opened again.

"Here."

He held out his elegantly written on papers. She took them from his hand. He began to close the door again.

"Hey! Wait," Charlotte urged.

Anderson looked down at her. He seemed to be tired.

"Here are my versions," she said as she handed them to him. "Uhm. . . Where have you been?"

Anderson's facial expression changed. The memory of what had happened just a few days ago played in his mind. He cringed at the memory.

Charlotte noticed the cringe, but wasn't sure why he cringed.

"Why in the hell does it matter to you?" Anderson asked darkly.

"Because you are always at school. You are never absent for this long. Something doesn't seem right."

He looked at her and simply laughed. "Go the fuck home Charlotte." The door slammed in her face.

Anderson felt exhausted. He needed more rest, but he had to eat something.

The door knocked again.

Anderson turned around and opened the door. "What do you want?!" he asked.

She brushed past him and walked inside of his house.

"What is wrong with you?" Charlotte asked.

"What is wrong with you?! I didn't invite you inside my house."

"I don't give a fuck Anderson! What is going on? You're gone for a few days after that one night. Why?" she demanded.

"I don't have the energy for this," Anderson said quietly, walking away from her into the kitchen.

She followed and sat down on a wooden stool.

He opened the fridge and took out a yogurt.

"Look. We will get the project done. So stop worrying about me not being at school. I won't be at school for a while. And about that one night, don't flatter yourself. It won't happen again. Don't show up to my house unless you text me. That's impolite and I don't want you over here when you shouldn't be here. I'm fucking tired. You are upsetting me. I'm going to eat my fucking yogurt and then go upstairs and sleep. Ask something now if you feel that you have to, cause after I'm done with my yogurt, I want you to get the fuck out."

Charlotte sat there, looking deeply into his eyes. She had a lot of questions, but she knew something was different about Anderson. She did not know if it was the right time to ask those questions.

Anderson began eating his yogurt. He looked at her expectingly as he ate slowly.

"What's up with you?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing that concerns you."

"When will you be back to school?"

"Not for a long time." Anderson took another small bite. Her eyes followed the spoon that was carrying the yogurt up to his mouth. It had very little yogurt on it.

"What is with the small bites?" she asked.

"Not feeling very hungry," he answered.

"Uhm. . ." Charlotte felt extremely awkward. "I'm going home. Sorry for bothering you." She got up very fast and began rushing to his front door. In a hurry to leave, her bag accidentally hit a white paper bag that was sitting on a small table by a couch. It fell to the ground, causing a lot of yellow-orange pill bottles to come rolling out across the hardwood floor.

Anderson walked into the room, looked immediately at the pills, then at Charlotte, who had just turned around to look at the accident she just caused.

"Fuck. . ." He muttered underneath his breath.

"I-I. . . Uhm. Oh my gosh." She kneeled to the ground to pick them up quickly and put them back into the bag. "I am so s-"

Her eyes caught onto a label on one of the bottles.

Wailey, Anderson

"Oh my fucking-"

Her eyes slowly looked up at Anderson, who stood by the couch, his face looking sick.

He couldn't stop her. Exhaustion was hitting him.
And so was nausea.

Her eyes saw all the labels of each bottle. The name on all of them were the same. She stared down at the floor for a minute. Without looking up, she asked, "What are these for?" Her voice was barely audible.

It was hopeless. He knew it was. He could not lie about it. She was not stupid.

"I have cancer."

Her eyes did not move away from the floor. "I know Anderson. But what are these for?" Her eyes became watery.

"Chemotherapy. I had my first treatment. They are to stop the side effects and keep me from getting sick."

Anderson felt like he had to throw up.

A tear fell onto the floor, splashing onto the hard wood, creating the smallest of sounds. The quietness allowed it to easily be heard in the room.

Charlotte got up quietly. She set the bag onto the small table. Her eyes looked up at him. He was standing only six feet away from her.

Anderson saw the tears falling down her face.

Charlotte numbly stood there, staring into his eyes.

A minute later, she turned around. Without a word, she walked out the door.

A minute later, Anderson shoved the door open to the bathroom. He lifted up the toilet seat and let out what he just ate and everything else his stomach contained into the toilet.

Vomit came out of his mouth.
Tears came out of her eyes.

He could not hold it in anymore.
Neither could she.