I tagged him in the arm, feeling confident enough to attempt to change the subject.
“So do you guys kidnap people all of the time, or am I your first attempt in this racket?”
He glanced up at me, the corners of his mouth threatening a smile. “This is a trial run. I figure the next one will have to actually be worth some money, not ask so many questions—”
I lost all of my humor and felt myself grow cold. “That isn’t funny.”
“Don’t worry.” He looked me up and down. “You ain’t got any competition.” He laughed, but it was too hollow to have any heart in it.
I also wanted to say something, but he beat me to it. “Yeah, I know it ain’t funny.”
I put my arms over my chest to be defiant, but he just laughed and pushed some of the hair away from my face. I gave in again, laughing along with him while trying to pull together the large mounds of locks. “It’s horrendous, I know. I wish I had a hair-tie. I’d even settle for a rubber band if you have one—”
Suddenly, a hair-tie appeared in Charlie’s hand. More amazingly, it was the same one that had fallen out during our initial struggle. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and dangled it as though it were a delicacy. I held out my hand as he centered it in my palm. The tie was covered in lead and dust, but I was still happy to have it. I closed my fingers around it with only a fraction of Charlie’s hand enclosed within my own. I could hear his breath increase, but for the moment I was focused only on his hand. I saw small scars, some newer than others, with fresh cuts and scrapes on the surface. I felt the lead rubbing off on my skin from the same places where the calluses were at their roughest. And there was a satisfaction in knowing that it wasn’t just ship work that had earned him these hands…
“I can’t believe you found this.” I let go of his hand and set to work pulling up my hair.
He coughed, picked up his sketchbook and started on a new page. My mane was in desperate need of attention and my heart was beating so fast I thought if I didn’t get some distance between us it might combust right there in my chest, so I stood up and went to my bag for my brush. At the bottom of my bag I felt something soft and familiar.
“Oh yes! I forgot all about this!”
I pulled out the fabric from the bag. It was only a t-shirt I had brought along in the likelihood that I spilled something on myself during the road trip and wanted to prevent embarrassment. Still though, it made me ridiculously happy to think I had something of my own here in this strange place. I could even switch shirts and wash my tank top while I wore this one. I inhaled the fabric and smelled the detergent and fabric softener. Instantly it reminded me of home. I wondered if Dad would bother to get any of the laundry done while I was gone. Would one of the neighbors at least show him how the washer and dryer worked? How many episodes of trial and error would it take before he figured out how much soap to use?
I put the shirt back and finally managed to get my hair into a decent ponytail. When I turned back around, Charlie was glancing up at me slightly but put his eyes back down when he caught me looking at him.
“Thanks for this, Charlie.” I sat down on the bed and leaned my head against the wall.
His voice was soft but tight. “You’re welcome.”
“What time is it?” I asked
“Late,” he said finally.
I was enjoying the sound of the pencil against the paper. Charlie increased the intensity in pressure he applied as he sketched away. I took pleasure in the way it took the silence from the room, filling it with the resonance of creation and something more intense than I could describe. Each time the point broke, he didn’t hesitate to sharpen it furiously with the blade and get back to work.
As I listened, I felt my eyelids begin to grow heavy, so I kicked off my sandals and scooted