Rewrite the Stars Christina Consolino (classic novels to read TXT) 📖

in his eyes.” Oh, shit. Leave it to the kid to out me. I rose from the chair and moved to the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen. I’d have to defend myself.

“All right, wise guy. Who’s been letting you watch that movie?” Sadie’s tone held me back from revealing myself. “As much as I adore it, it’s not appropriate for you kids. Your father should—”

“It’s okay, Mom. We didn’t let Delia or Lexie watch it. It was just me and Dad sitting on the bean bags, eating popcorn. He had a rough night. He seemed more tired than he has been.”

Rough night? Is that what Charlie called it? The angst. The pacing. I’d done a good enough job hiding them from him. But it seemed like no matter what I did these days—more exercise, less screen time, more meditation, meds—none of it helped the symptoms. My skin still felt too small and the tiniest of agitations triggered me. Of course, that damn letter and divorce papers didn’t help.

My problem wasn’t realizing I had a problem it was—

The crash of a bowl against the wood floor sounded, and I peeked my head around the corner. Charlie stood frozen, wide-eyed, and shaken, surrounded by the remnants of his favorite bowl. How had that happened?

“That’s, that’s...”

“Shh, sweetie. It’s your favorite bowl. But it was an accident.” Sadie took two steps toward the pantry and pulled the broom and dustpan from their respective hooks. She’d need to sweep up the large chunks of glass first and then press duct tape against the floor and vacuum to get the finer pieces. It was a routine she rarely remembered, but it worked the best. “Don’t move, not yet,” she said to Charlie. “Let me get those large shards of glass before anyone else comes in the room.”

“No, Mom. You can’t.” Charlie reached and began to place glass chunks into his shirt, which he’d fashioned into a makeshift bag. “I need to get what I can. I have some glue. I can glue these back together.” His voice shook, and tears tumbled down his ruddy cheeks. Still, I stood and said nothing to alert them to my presence.

Sadie touched Charlie’s forearm and moved the broom to her shoulder. “Honey. You loved this bowl, really loved this bowl, but it won’t be safe, and gluing it isn’t the best idea. We need to get rid of the pieces. Charlie, I promise I’ll get you a new bowl.”

“No.” More tears dropped onto his cheeks, and he hugged his full shirt to his chest, turning away from my view. “You can’t get me a new bowl. This bowl came from Dad...I use it every morning...it’s...it’s...”

“Sweetie, please, you have to throw the pieces away.”

“No, Mom, I need them. I need him.”

Shit. My hands shook as my son collapsed against the breakfast bar. I’d given Charlie the beloved bowl when life was still good, whole. Even in my fucked-up state I knew the bowl represented everything kind and healthy about me. About our family. And breaking that bowl...Charlie clutched the bulge of glass pieces closer to his body, making it possible he might cut himself. An itch rose within me: getting my son out of the dangerous position of holding sharp glass moved to the front of my brain. But with patient movements, Sadie reached out to Charlie, lifting him up and placing her hands against the full shirt.

“There’s no point in holding onto those pieces, Charlie. They’re broken.” Finality laced her voice as she pried the pieces from Charlie, who stood there in a daze. A certain guilt overcame me: for listening in on a conversation that wasn’t meant for me to hear, for lurking in the other room when I should have announced my presence. But then: anger. At Sadie’s words, at her inability to see what Charlie needed, at her in general. That glass. Sharp, razor-edged. She should have taken those damn glass pieces from Charlie right from the start. And those words...

Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three. He hadn’t gotten hurt. At least not physically.

Still hanging back, I said nothing. Sadie swept up the remaining glass fragments and put them in a grocery bag, then headed to the utility room, probably to grab the vacuum. Apparently, my method had gotten through to her. I moved into the kitchen, waiting with folded arms over my chest. Sadie opened her eyes wide when she came back into the room, duct tape in one hand, vacuum in the other.

“I heard what you said.” My low voice barely rang in the air. “About the pieces of the bowl. Is that how you view me? Is there no point to holding on to me?”

Sadie had an answer for everything. This time, there was no point in sticking around to find out what the answer might be.

Chapter 9: Sadie

 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

The smell of the leather chair in Kate’s office hit my nose as I slid onto it. Kate wasn’t my therapist, but she was a therapist, and one who kept Saturday hours. I’d called her after having been made frantic by Theo’s words, which had rankled me to my deepest emotion. It had been a long time since I’d stepped foot into a confessional, but Kate would appreciate my humor.

“Too funny, my friend, too funny. I’m glad you came in. You sounded so frazzled over the phone.” Her kind voice sent a calming presence throughout my body.

“It’s good to see you too...” A slight uneasiness settled into me. Only the air-conditioning whirred in the silence stretching between us.

“Well. How long has it been since your last confession?” Kate winked.

“Too long. Can we leave it at that?”

“Sure can. And clearly, I’m not suited for that job. Now what can I do for you? What happened?”

The chair’s leather back embraced my body, lending me confidence. “Theo said something that got to me. After a small accident—Charlie’s favorite bowl broke, and I got a bit upset—I convinced