Chapter Text
Spring, 1995
It was an odd place to be, somewhere in the middle of a tourist and a local.
Charlotte recognized the bridge under their tires like a well-worn board in the staircase at home, and remembers peering out of the same window she stared out of now from last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. Her brothers hadn’t washed the van in some time, but even through the smudges of dirt left behind from the North Carolina rainstorms, she could see it clearly, the shoreline she’d traced through the glass since she could walk and talk.
She traced it now, stopping to rub the sleep from her eyes. She beat the sun this morning, sitting up in her bed while the chill of dawn peeked through her dewy windows.
“Birds aren’t even awake yet!” she had whined, whipping a pillow at Teddy’s face, hoping he’d take the hint and get off her bed. He didn’t because he lived to annoy her, she was sure of it. That and it was just one more way he could microdose his revenge on her for always getting her own room in the summer house.
Their summer home , their escape, their castle. The Château , as John had named it.
She’d never admit it but secretly she loved waking up before the sun. Early mornings meant their parents weren’t up yet, which meant Teddy would be in a good mood, which meant they all had a semi decent shot at getting along.
Early mornings were also the best times to surf.
“Over a hundred miles of shoreline and they still think back home is where they gotta live,” Teddy continues with his rant, gesturing out of his window as he shakes his head. “I mean, what’s Greensboro got that this place don’t have? Lack of jobs? M’sure there are plenty here, even if it means kissing tourists asses–”
John hums. “M’sure you’d like that part.”
“Just ‘cause you keep gettin’ fired doesn’t mean there’s a lack of jobs,” Charlotte interrupts.
Teddy carries on like she’s not there. “I just don’t get them sometimes, man.”
“You’re almost old enough to move out, T,” John teases, not even glancing over from his spot behind the wheel, instead grabbing the brim of his tattered hat and readjusting it. He says it in that nonchalant way that Charlotte loved seeing directed at Teddy, who instantly rolls his eyes at the jab.
He didn’t follow a lot of rules in his life, as if pretending they didn’t exist had always worked out just great for him. It was one of those things she clocked early on, that her older brother just wasn’t a rule follower. That and Ma’s rule of waiting until 16 to move out was one of the few he respected underneath all his whispered cussing and leaving the house as loudly as possible.
Earlier in the year, not two days after his birthday he was briskly emptying his closet and drawers as she sat on his bed, asking if she could have his too-small hoodies and collection of decks of eccentric playing cards she always loved looking at. He’d said no just as many times as she’d asked, almost just out of principle of saying no, but eventually relented, knowing that their parents weren’t the best at buying clothes for them and that she had a weird thing for weird things.
A few weeks later, before she even really got to make a dent in the pile of books he’d left her, the same three bags he left with ended up right back on the porch. She’d never heard their father raise his voice as much as he did that night.
The van slows to a stop, letting a small clump of people cross the street, one of them holding a leash tethered to a fluffy golden dog. Charlotte tries to get a better look at it just as Teddy continues his spiel.
“I’m moving here, when I save enough money. I can feel it, ya know? This is the year.”
John glances at him. “Y’know you actually have to have a job to make money.”
“That ain’t entirely true, but that’s just the logistics of it. After I get the whole havin’ no money to my name shit figured out I’ll take over the Château, maybe buy a new boat.”
Charlotte turns away from the window to give Teddy a glare. “You’re not gettin’ the Château, if it goes to anyone, it’ll go to John.”
Teddy peers back at her, his hands pausing from playing with his new Polaroid camera he’d finally been able to afford. John had told him they were losing their popularity, but Teddy insisted that’s what made it more valuable.
“You’re just sayin’ that to annoy me. Y’know John doesn’t just get everything by default–”
“You’re not even done with school yet and John already has a job,” Charlotte shoots back, knowing how much John’s new job got under Teddy’s skin.
Teddy goes back to his camera. “Two more years I’ll be done, Charley, that’s not that far away–”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Might even drop, what good’s finishin’ ever done anyone anyway?”
“Don’t,” John sighs.
“And I had a job, alright? Just ‘cause he got his first–”
“You were fired!”
“Hey, Charley –”
Charlotte kicks the back of his seat. “Teddy, stop–”
“--you know I’d still let you visit, I’ll even give you the big bedroom–”
“But I don’t wanna visit, I wanna live here too. The doctor said the air is good for my breathing, remember?”
“Oh, don’t do that, Charley, that’s cheatin’.”
Charlotte catches the amusement in John’s eyes in the rearview mirror, just as he readjusts his glasses. “You can live here too, Char,” he says reassuringly. He directs his gaze to his brother. “And she’s right, there’s no way they’d give you the Château.”
Charlotte smiles to herself, turning back to the window and feeling giddy excitement bubble up at the sight of the sun reflected off the water, causing flickering white spots in her vision. They drive past a few trinket shops, some with various displays in the windows attracting the growing amount of tourists bustling about. Some were on bikes and some were walking, hand in hand with each other, talking, smiling, laughing.
Colorful straps hung from their necks holding their cameras, ones much newer than the one Teddy got, with sunglasses pushed up in their hair that had to be constantly damp from the ocean. Charlotte unconsciously reaches for her own brown curls, imagining herself walking past shops, only a little older. Her hair always damp from a surf just like them. She’d have her own collection of boards to pick from every morning right after taking her medicine, with the windows constantly open letting in the warm ocean breeze that soothed her lungs in a special way only the saltwater could provide.
That was perhaps her favorite part of the islands. Hearing the crashing of the waves and knowing it would ease some of the strain on her lungs.
The moment they finally park, Charlotte unbuckles her seatbelts and slides the door open all in one motion, reaching to grab her tube of sunscreen at the last second. Teddy hops out and wastes no time in pulling his tank top over his head as a group of girls pass them. Charlotte cracks the tube open and steps over to him, quickly standing on her tiptoes to drop a big blob on his freckled shoulder.
“Hey, what the–”
“You always forget!”
“I don’t forget, I just don’t use it!” Teddy grimaces, dramatically swiping the goop from his slightly peeling skin and smudges it down Charlotte’s nose before she can get away. “Grown ups don’t need sunscreen, Charley–”
“Well, you’re not a grown up, so–”
“Compared to you.”
“Also, Ma said–”
Teddy scoffs. “I don’t care what Ma–”
“--that you’re gonna have wrinkly, leather skin before you turn twenty. Teddy, girls aren’t gonna wanna date you if you look like an old car seat.”
One of the girls in the passing group tries to hide a snort, glancing at the two of them before following her friends to the shore. Charlotte ducks her head as she reaches for a bottle of water from the cooler, raising her eyebrows once Teddy gives her a look.
“Next time we surf, I’m forgetting you at home.” Teddy takes the tube of sunscreen from her and tosses it in the van. He leans in to grab his own drink, putting on an overly confused expression. “S’funny, whenever I’m around you, I get this pain in my ass.”
Charlotte immediately unscrews her water, flicking it towards the back of his swim shorts. “Where’d you say it was?”
Teddy flinches, almost choking mid-swallow. He turns to her.
“Here?” she giggles, flicking more water, this time near his hip.
Teddy copies her, flicking his icy water at her face. “Actually, it might be there.”
“Sure it’s not there?” she laughs, this time half bent over and flicking in his general direction. “Probably a symptom of being a dick.”
“Only grown ups can say dick.”
“You probably shouldn’t say it then.”
“You guys done dicking around?” John asks through the van, causing Charlotte to giggle even harder. He vaguely gestures to the ocean behind them. “Pretty sure there’s more water that way, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Yup,” Teddy says, giving one last flick towards Charlotte before reaching to close the passenger door. “Just trying to relieve the incessant pain in my ass.”
Charlotte rubs the water out of her eyes, coughing a little from laughing. “Wait, wait, can we get a picture?”
Teddy glances at his camera. “Picture of what?”
“Of us! You, me, and John!”
She sees John grab the camera from Teddy’s seat before he can object, examining it through his perpetually smudged glasses as he makes his way around the van. Charlotte knew as soon as Teddy purchased the camera, the one he started to call ‘ vintage’, he’d be annoying about it, about what to shoot with it and who can hold it or use it. She didn’t really care, though, she just really wanted this picture, maybe to hang up in her room.
She skips across the parking lot to ask a nice looking couple if they’d take their photo. They say yes and Charlotte gets excited all over again. She skips back to their van, sandwiching herself between her brothers as John hands the couple the camera. She wraps her arms around them, smiling into the direction of the camera.
Smiling as bright as she felt just then, in her favorite place, next to her favorite people.
—
Her mother had called it people watching.
Charlotte always thought it sounded odd, maybe from the way she said it when she told her to stop staring at strangers. Deep down, it felt wrong to watch and to stare, but no matter how many times she tried to avert her eyes, they always seemed to wander right back to the strangers splayed out around her. All the different lives taking place in one spot, all moving at different paces, all at the same time.
The beach was three parts now. The water, the sand, and the people , all gradually pushing and pulling into each other, blurring the lines she kept drawing with her finger slicing through the air with her one eye closed. Chairs were getting unfolded and arranged into groups, some small and some big. Lids to coolers were getting flipped open, holding everything from beers to juice boxes to bagged sandwiches.
Umbrellas were popping open here and there and getting staked into the hot sand, right beside the towels that were shaken and thrown out. Colorful towels, too. For half a minute she thinks a though she knows Dad would deem as spoiled, but she can’t help it. She wanted a new towel. New didn’t really come around a lot, but she still liked to imagine what it’d be like if it did. She’d get a super soft one, one with a pattern she’d want to run her fingers along every time she looked at it. If she had any money left over, she’d then buy John one, and then Teddy, too, in that order.
She smiles at the thought, just as a gangly teenager obliviously crosses her imaginary line, forcing her to start over.
A gentle breeze carries the scent of sunscreen across the beach, causing Charlotte to crane her neck. She scans the crowd, spotting a pretty looking woman spraying a squirming boy's shoulders. She lets her mind wander with people-watching thoughts her mother would scold her for having.
She wonders where the woman and the boy are from and if it was far, if they had the same van as she did. If they forgot anything on their trip, or if they’ve been here so many times that they barely even unpacked from the last time they came. A man in flip flops walks over to the little boy, pulling the woman in for a kiss before bending down and scooping the kid up in his arms, swinging him around a few times.
Charlotte smiles at the boys laughter, silently observing as they both begin to run towards the water.
“Are you all by yourself?”
Charlotte startles. She squints up at the voice, bringing a hand up to block the sun.
A girl close to her age smiles down at her after a moment, tilting her head, only a hint of shyness on her sunburnt face, shadowed by the brim of an oversized sun hat.
Charlotte glances out at the water, trying to find John or Teddy. “No, I came here with my brothers.”
The girl follows her line of sight, visually perking up. “Oh, are they surfing?”
Charlotte shrugs, gaze landing back on the girl. “I like your hat.”
“Thanks.”
There was hardly anyone in the water when they first arrived at the beach. Now, there were too many bodies to count, some floating around near the shore and tossing around water toys and others on their boards further out.
A shout to her left and she’s no longer staring at the girl but at the ball that harmlessly lands with a small splash in front of them. The girl leans down towards the toy, tossing it back to the group that were waving her down.
“Are those your brothers?”
Charlotte shakes her head, briefly scanning the water before shrugging again. “Sometimes we all go in different places. I’m not really supposed to, but they don’t tell on me.”
“Oh,” the girl says, like she completely understands. “I wish I had brothers,” she confesses, finally lowering herself onto the sand in front of Charlotte. “I only have two sisters and they’re always telling me what to do.”
“My brothers do that,” Charlotte says, sounding bored, pausing. “Well, at least Teddy does, John isn’t as mean about it.”
“Oh,” the girl says again, bouncing her head in a nod as she starts to draw small doodles in the sand between them.
“It’s my mom’s.”
“What?”
“My hat.”
“Cool. Mine’s my brothers.” Charlotte places a hand on her head, where John’s slightly-too-big tattered ball cap sat backwards, keeping her hair out of her face. “I don’t think my ma has any hats like yours.” John had given it to her when he spotted her taking a break in the sand beside her board.
“I like it,” the girl says, moving her arm so Charlotte can add onto one of her sand drawings.
“Thanks.”
“She’s a competitive surfer,” the girl says, talking more to the intricate design they’ve started in the sand than to Charlotte. “Sometimes people ask for her…” she pauses, as if forgetting the word, then, “autograph. It’s weird.”
“My ma’s a nurse,” Charlotte admits, “she says people at work don’t really care about her.”
“That’s an important job, though.”
The girls nod silently in agreement, quietly dragging their fingers through the sand, occasionally scooping some up from one spot and piling it up in another. They sit like that for a while, drawing and digging. They trade hats, ask about each other's favorite ice cream flavor, and eventually Charlotte asks if she’ll help her find her brothers. Not that she felt all that worried anymore. Earlier, not being able to spot them in the water put a seed of nervousness in her stomach. Now, she was enjoying herself again, rinsing off an oddly shaped shell in the saltwater to bring over to one of their sand towers, imagining how perfect it will look sitting on top.
Summer, 2006
Charlotte knew a sky like this one well. A little over three hours into the drive she ducks her head forwards to pick out the cloud patterns through the bug speckled windshield.
The waves were murky but beautiful as ever, churning impatiently and peaking with angry whitecaps near the shore. She saw the wind picking up through the trees and the sails on the boats near the old harbor, carrying her eyes back to the hazy blue of the sky and the thick, dark clouds.
She checks her watch.
“Rain should hold out for a few more hours,” John mumbles, eyeing the horizon to their left while they're still on the bridge. As soon as they near a familiar stretch of island, a string of shops and stores, they slow. He pulls a face before rolling his neck, reaching a hand between his back and the seat.
“Do you need to take a break?” she asks, already knowing the answer.
“We’re almost there.”
“You’ve been driving for a while.”
He hums, stubbornly checking his own watch before peering in the rearview mirror. “He still out?”
Charlotte pushes her sunglasses up into her hair and twists around, unable to stop the small smile that takes over at the sight of the car seat snuggly sitting between all of their bags and boxes. A half-drank juice box sits in his lap, barely being held up by his little limp hand as he sleeps.
“Like a light,” she says quietly. She notices a strange look pass over her brother's face, one she’d been seeing more often lately.
John spent a lot of time in his head. Ever since he was a teenager, when it was Teddy sharing some old shipwreck story and she was trying to add the details that he always forgot to add, he was quiet, always seemingly led somewhere else by his thoughts. Charlotte liked to be the one to pull him out but the last couple of years were different. Seeing him caught up somewhere else started to mean less of him trying to remember an old, obscure myth and more of him getting lost in his fights with Grace. Those and all the other things that came along with his abrupt and not-so-planned introduction to fatherhood.
She wouldn’t pretend to understand what he was going through right now, what he was thinking. What waking up one morning and seeing his son and suddenly realizing he’d one day have to explain to him why he only had one parent felt like.
But she still liked to help him.
“I really think he’s gonna love it here, John,” she offers, taking in the familiar island scenery that occupied almost her entire childhood. “I mean we were always happier here, huh?”
John blinks at the road for a long time, finally adjusting his glasses. “Guess I haven’t really thought about happy in a while. Y’know? Just been tryin’...tryin’ to find stability. For him.”
His eyes flicker back up to the rearview mirror. “Is that bad?”
Charlotte slowly shakes her head. “If you’re askin’ if I think you’re doin’ a bad job, then I’d say you’re just doing what’s best for the both of you, and there can’t be all that wrong with that.”
“So it is bad.”
She gives him a look. “You need to be good too, for him. You weren’t at Ma’s house.”
He seems to ponder this for a minute.
“Did you ask Grace to leave?”
John looks reluctant to answer at first, so obviously wearing the incident like a personal failure of his. Then, finally, “no.”
She shrugs, reaching her hand through the slit in her window and resting her elbow on the door. “Then right now, I think you’re doing fine.”
Charlotte knows it’s much more complicated than that, that Grace wasn’t just the mother of their son but his best friend too. She also knows that people don’t just decide to move their life three hundred miles overnight unless they really need to start another chapter.
“Just happens sometimes,” she adds, elbowing him. “Bound to screw him up some way or another, right?”
John grunts. “Sound like Dad.”
She bites her lip, pausing.
“You know if she stayed, you guys would’ve ended up like them?”
“Char…”
“Not together, but…like, trapped. And miserable as hell.”
He goes quiet again, not quite capable of fighting with her on the topic anymore. She didn’t know what it felt like to be left, high and dry, but hated seeing him like this.
“And then…” she goes on, “the little guy would be just like you.”
John gets the smallest look of amusement. “Jesus, poor kid.”
Charlotte laughs quietly. He mumbles something to himself before rolling his neck again, reaching down for his bottle of pop.
Charlotte tilts her head back, taking a slow, deep, practiced breath. She’d have to find a new doctor here, but it’s still all worth it. She’s been craving this. Something as simple as the air. She wipes at her eyes, pulling her sunglasses back down, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden.
She swallows hard, gently clearing her throat. “Hey, you know what?”
“Hmm?’
“Happy will come.”
John looks over at her with a slight frown.
She smiles and gestures to the car in front of them holding two surfboards on the roof.
“As soon as we get back into the water, especially with this kid, stability will be long forgotten by then. Only happy.”
They slowly roll to a stop, watching the group of what looked like teenagers as they made their way across the street. Half of them held boards, the other half had an eagerness written all over their faces, as if taking in the beach town for the first time. She remembers the feeling and holds it fondly.
She glances over at her brother again.
“And even if it all goes to shit, at least he’ll have you to get him through it.”