Charlie. Perfect, creative, innocent Charlie. Sam shakes her head slowly, cringing slightly as she just thinks about it. Well maybe not innocent after his relationship with Mary Elizabeth, but still Charlie. Charlie who had an undying crush on her and who wasn't afraid to ask. Charlie who had befriended Patrick in a way she knew she wouldn't have been able to. Charlie who recited poetry and stories with such liveliness and spirit and love. Small parts of her wanted him to be here now. But he wasn't. The cold winds aren't exactly helping either and the white snow at Sam's ankles teases her. Charlie isn't coming back. Ever.
Sam grimaces in the icy wind and looks up at the sky, blinking away tears as the stars up above her twinkle back. Charlie can't come back. And it is all her fault. All her fucking fault. Her head tells her heart to let him go. But it isn't easy. Sam frowns, she hasn't seen Patrick in five days and he won't even reply to her texts. Her parents are saying he's staying at a friend's house for a while, but Sam knows better. He's still angry about Brad and now, well now, it will be even harder.
Stupid loveable fucking Charlie. And in this moment she feels everything except infinite. Some part of her wishes Charlie had made her a mixtape. But the other half is glad, because it is easier without one to listen to. Patrick has one of Charlie's mixtapes and he listens to it every night before he sleeps. Sam just listens to the sound of his voice that plays over in her head. It's torture. She knows deep down in her inner being that she will never see or hear him again. She loved him. It wasn't a romantic love, it was something even better. She loved him, and now she realises how much she actually did. Charlie made up for all her mistakes, Charlie was her miracle. She loved him honestly with her whole heart.
It hurt, it actually really hurt. The pain tearing her chest was real; it was worse than she had ever experienced. Sam desperately tries to swallow the hard lump developing in her throat. Charlie wasn't even guilty of anything, except for breaking Mary Elizabeth's heart of course, but it didn't even matter now. Mary Elizabeth could shut her mouth. She wasn't even good enough for Charlie. No one would ever be good enough for Charlie. Not even her. Sam bites her lip, in bittersweet thought. She would do anything for Charlie, but she neglected to do that before. Now it can't be.
Sam rubs her hands against her tough and worn jeans which are at least keeping some the winter cold out. It will take another few minutes to get to Charlie's house, and she's just hoping Charlie's stubborn sister will let her in. Last time she was called a bitch and locked outside, standing in the face of the front door. Charlie's sister had taken it hard as well; it wasn't fair to call her rude and arrogant, after all Sam would've done the same thing if she was in her place. Now Sam's just hoping that she'll open up a bit. She wants to talk to her anyway, not just about Charlie but just because she needs another friend.
Visions and memories of Charlie plunge into her head as she rounds the corner to his house. She sees him in her pick-up truck, standing up at the back of it for the first time, hesitant at first but then that look of pure brilliance that erupted over his features brings a sad smile to her thin lips. They were infinite. Charlie was infinite. Patrick was infinite. She was infinite. Sam wants to feel like that again. Wants it so bad. The cold is really getting to her now, the temperature making her legs quiver.
She enters up the driveway to his house and knocks softly on the cold wood door. She knows that the only person home is Charlie's sister who is hormonal and unstable. The wooden door creaks open slightly and warm air blows into Sam's cold face.
'Hey.' Sam says putting in her foot in the door before the other girl can slam it in her face. 'I'm Sam.' Sam smiles and Charlie's sister scowls. Sam wishes she knew her name, but she'd never really asked Charlie about his family because she knew it was a touchy subject. Candace. That was her name.
'I know exactly who you are.' Candace growls and frowns, 'what do you want?' she basically spits, venom in her speech and her eyes. Sam grimaces and tucks a piece of her behind her ear. She wants to slap her, to tell her that it's hurting her too, but Sam restrains herself.
'I want to talk,' Sam says carefully and adds, 'to you.' Candace tries to close the door but Sam's sneaker makes it impossible.
'About what?' she hisses and her mouth turns to an ugly twisted shape as she speaks, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Sam just wants to get inside of the house and talk, but it's going to be difficult.
'About Charlie.' Sam chokes and bites the inside of her lip until it bleeds to stop what's coming. Charlie's sister blinks rapidly and opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. 'Please,' Sam says, 'Charlie was important to me too.' Something sparks in the other girls eyes and she furrows her brow. Her bottom lip quivers.
'Charlie is dead, bitch.' She screams, kicking Sam's foot out and slamming the heavy wooden door in her face. Charlie is dead. Charlie is dead. Charlie is dead. Who was she kidding? Charlie was infinite.
The funeral was quick and minimalistic. Sam found herself staring at Patrick of whom she hadn't seen in two weeks. He was a mess. His dark mop of hair was knotted and his face was sunken horribly. He smelt strongly of alcohol and he refused to meet Sam's eyes.
Charlie's parents told short stories of his childhood, his sister sharing about how much he had supported her. Not surprisingly, Charlie's older brother couldn't make it to the funeral because of a football game. Patrick had excused himself a few minutes back and was silently mourning outside.
Sam stood to speak. Her hands shook at her side. Her voice played clearly through the microphone. She recited Charlie's poem. The one that he had told to Patrick. She felt the words roll easily off of her tongue and she felt Charlie next to her, guiding her speech. And in that moment, she swore she was infinite.