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Lisa's always liked Charlotte's hands. They touch so softly and gently that it never hurts, it never makes her squirm or flinch, it never makes her uncomfortable when fingers slide through her hair, tucking it behind an ear, or helping her braid it when she gets too flustered to finish the job on her own, or just petting her like a dog when she can't get out of bed in the morning because everything feels too bad, too gross and gray and dull.
Sometimes Charlotte sits with her those times, humming little tunes under her breath, one hand with a pen in it as she does her work in paper and ink on the nightstand and the other never leaving Lisa's head. Sometimes Charlotte coaxes her out of bed and into a bath, telling her that it'll make her feel better, and she's always right. Sometimes Charlotte brings her food in bed, and her favorite milkshake (choco-banana), and they sit and talk. Sometimes Charlotte brings her food in bed, and her favorite milkshake, and they don't talk.
Sometimes when too much time passes and Lisa still hasn't gotten out of bed, and this can be days or hours depending on what Charlotte is feeling is best for her at the time, those soft gentle hands pull her up by the shoulders and that deep, soothing voice says firmly, “It's time to get up, Lisa,” and Lisa goes even though she wants to complain and throw things like she might have done back home with her mother.
The thought of complaining to Charlotte and throwing things at her makes her feel sick inside, full of maggots and dead things. She can't imagine anyone ever doing that to Charlotte and she hopes no one ever does. She deserves so much better.
She deserves so much better than Lisa, whose hands aren't soft and gentle but instead clumsy and wild, yet Charlotte still lets her help with everything from the chickens to cleaning to showing newcomers around, still puts lunch on a plate for her and brings it wherever she is on the compound at the time because she knows Lisa forgets to eat in the middle of the day.
Charlotte's hands are beautiful.
(She tells her this once and she feels kind of embarrassed about it, weird, like she should have kept her mouth shut, but then Charlotte smiles at her so warmly and with shining eyes and thanks her so kindly that it immediately erases all fears she's had about speaking her mind.)
Lisa hasn't even been with Charlotte as long as some of them have, but she doesn't need to be one of the first to know that this is it for her now. This is it. This is her family, these are her friends. Charlotte is –
Charlotte is everything.
But she skips out on the farmer's market to go home anyway.
(It isn't home, not anymore.
But she tries to call it home because it used to be, and because she still has a mother, even though sometimes she dreams and when she dreams her mother's face is –
– not her mother's.)
On the way back to the compound she reassures herself with little things like Charlotte won't mind, she'll just be glad we're all right, she'll be glad I'm all right, she's never been angry with me. She won't be angry with me now. She'll see the fish and understand. She'll see me happy and understand. She's good friends with Natalie, she won't be upset at Natalie, she won't be upset at me...
She's worked herself into a quiet frenzy about it by the time she's back, but then Charlotte is nowhere to be seen and she's busy showing The 14th Gilly to the others and then she's crawling into bed at the end of the night, watching her fish swim circles in his bowl, feeling warm and a little happy, and she hadn't seen Charlotte once.
She'd forgotten to look for her, to explain things.
She'd forgotten about Charlotte.
This realization chases the warmth right out of her.
But Lisa, exhausted by the day's events, falls asleep anyway.
The first thing she does in the morning is seek out Charlotte, a buzz in her veins, and she finds her meditating by the lake. She looks tired, and like the meditation isn't working very well for her, and she's so sensitive to the sound of Lisa's approaching footsteps that she's already pushing herself onto her feet by the time Lisa stops by her.
Lisa's eyes always have a way of gravitating in the direction of Charlotte's hands, so of course she notices right away the fact that one of them is wrapped in a red patterned cloth, a swath of silk tied in a loose knot. “I just, um,” she starts, stops, starts again and feels embarrassed and fearful the whole time, “you've probably heard by now what happened yesterday and I just wanted you to know that it was my fault, not Natalie's, I'm the one who drove us home – I mean, to my mom's house, I just wanted to see my fish, that's all, but then—“
“Lisa.” Charlotte reaches out for her and takes her hands and all the breath leaves her lungs all at once, like a sudden whoosh. “It's all right. Natalie already saw me and explained everything. You don't have to worry. I'm just glad you're okay. You are, aren't you?” Warm eyes search her face closely.
Lisa breathes in the smell of her perfume, and as always, it makes her relax more than it makes her jittery. It's weird that something can give her two completely opposite feelings at the same time, but she's gotten used to it now, finds it comforting. “I'm okay,” she says, and finds herself strangely meaning it. “I'm just...sorry. That I—“ She isn't sure what to say, then. Did she disobey Charlotte, go against the rules set for her? But there are no rules, not really. It just feels...
...like something she should be apologizing for anyway. And she had spent so much time with Charlotte already, working on that issue. That hurdle. The feeling of being a burden to everyone, the need to constantly apologize. If she keeps apologizing now, Charlotte will think all their shared sessions working on undoing the behaviors that are harmful to herself have been for nothing at all, and she can't disappoint Charlotte. She just can't.
If she ever made Charlotte feel like she's failed her, she's pretty sure she'd die. Or she'd feel like dying, or she'd want to die. And none of those things are good for her personal progress either.
“Next time,” she says instead, “if I go somewhere, I'll tell you first. Without running off out of the blue. And I regret not showing up to the farmer's market. I know a routine is good for me.”
Charlotte smiles. There are dark circles under her eyes and a haunted look deep inside of them, but the smile is real, the smile is Charlotte all over. She squeezes Lisa's hands lightly and lets go. “Good girl. Thank you, Lisa.”
Lisa wonders if Charlotte is aware of the effect those words have on her, like a million buzzing insects have filled her head and something has lifted up her heart into her throat, pulse fluttering like wings. She finds herself smiling back – she can't help it, she's suddenly so happy in that moment...and then her eyes drift down again.
“Are you okay?”
Charlotte follows her eyes down, then back up again. “Oh.” She laughs a little, but it sounds...well. It isn't any of Lisa's business. She would gladly take it on, if it was. But it isn't. No one else asks too-personal questions about Charlotte's affairs, she won't start either. “Yes, I'm all right. Just a little cut. An accident.”
Lisa smiles back at her uncertainly, wondering if it's showing on her face, the disbelief. “Okay,” she says. “I'm going to go talk to Natalie, but...if you want, you can stop by my room later and I can introduce you to Gilly?”
Charlotte smiles a little wider at her. “I'd like that very much.” It feels like that lights up Lisa's insides from top to bottom, igniting some sort of white-hot glow in her, the total opposite of everything she's felt through her life crashing into her all at once.
Charlotte once told her that she should stop looking for approval from others and first find it in herself, so that she could start taking comfort from herself and surety in her own actions, and then worry about others later. But Lisa can't imagine that applies to her, because she's Charlotte. So if she's maybe a little bit too happy right here and now in this moment, Charlotte would probably forgive her for it, if she knew.
And if not, maybe Lisa would even be willing to disappoint her just the once.
“Lisa!” Lisa startles, looking over a shoulder. Natalie's watching them from the path, arms folded across her chest with a cigarette dangling between two fingers. She looks impatient and irritable. In other words, she looks like Natalie, just on a new day. “Everyone's looking for you, lunch is ready.”
Lisa is pretty sure no one is looking for her. They all know Charlotte usually brings her food straight to her. But she throws up a hand in Natalie's direction in acknowledgment anyway and looks back ahead. “Are you coming?” she asks.
Charlotte smiles at her reassuringly. “I'll be over in a while,” she says, and is already turning away from Lisa and sitting back down again, legs crossed neatly under the drapery of her colorful kaftan.
“Okay. I'll save you some cranberry salad.”
“I'd appreciate that, Lisa. Thank you.”
The way her name sounds from Charlotte's mouth thrums in Lisa's veins all the way back to Natalie, who takes her arm and nudges her ahead – not rough but guiding, and that feels good too – less than Charlotte's attention but still good, still fulfilling.
This is the best day she's had in a while, and Charlotte always says it's important to hold on to even the littlest things if they make you feel something good, that there's nothing wrong with that at all.
“Let's go,” Natalie says.
Lisa, unable to keep the smile off her face even if she tried, follows her.