The Last Time I Saw Her Read online

  Charlotte poked her head back into the main room. “You were out late last night,” she commented before retrieving the mug. Turning back to the microwave, she could practically see the look Sean was giving her through the wall. She brought him the coffee as a peace offering.

  “Sorry that I haven’t really been in touch,” he said, ignoring the previous remark.

  “That’s fine, you only sent me off to boarding school away from all my friends and then ignored me while I was there. I’m really only upset that you haven’t been answering my Snapchats.”

  “You ignored me, too,” Sean reminded her, as if he didn’t deserve it.

  “I was mad at you,” Charlotte said honestly.

  “Are you still?”

  “A bit.”

  Sean laughed into his drink.

  “So…what have you been doing?” she asked. A loaded question.

  Sean returned to eating chips out of the bag. He avoided her gaze. “Oh, you know me. Same old, same old.”

  Charlotte raised her eyebrows. She did know him. Same old was not good news.

  “You know what I mean,” he added coolly, catching her look. “Nothing exciting.”

  The implication hung in the air for a few seconds, and his look pressed her to challenge him. Sean had only been eighteen, and legally an adult for about a month, when their dad died. Since Charlotte had been only sixteen, there’d been talk of moving her. The question of their financial stability and Sean’s criminal record threatened to separate them. But in the end, it was decided that they had been through enough already and Charlotte stayed where she’d always been. Sean just had to stay out of trouble.

  “The house is a mess though, really.” Charlotte veered the conversation, letting him win, for now.

  “You’re right. I know.” Sean nodded a few times, taking advantage of the change in subject. “Yeah. We can work on it later.”

  Charlotte smirked. “There’s no ‘we’ in that one.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Not my mess,” she told him, shaking her head.

  “Charlie,” he whined. “I don’t know why we even pretend like I’m gonna clean up.” Sean leaned back against the sofa and dug at a bit of lint on his T-shirt. “You can’t just come back here and start bossing me around.”

  “Why not? I bossed you around before I left.”

  “Yeah, well, things are different than before you left.” He said it lightly, and she knew he wasn’t implying anything, but the choice of words hit her weirdly. She knew Sean saw it in her face. “I didn’t mean—” he started.

  “No, it’s…” she trailed off, pulling herself up to her feet, “true.”

  Sean looked at her. There were only two years between them but sometimes it felt like either a lot more or a lot less. “I’m still not….” He stopped, waited. “I’m still worried. I’m not sure you should be back here.”

  Charlotte stiffened, curling her fingers around the cuffs of her sleeves and adjusting her shoulders like she was ready for a fight. “School’s over, Sean. This is what we agreed on, and—”

  “I know,” Sean cut her off. “I guess I’m just not ready to…deal with everything.”

  Sean had gone back to not looking at her and Charlotte sucked in a deep breath. She felt like it wasn’t the last time they were going to have this conversation.

  “Glad you’re back,” Sean said after a few seconds, pressing the scuffed mug to his mouth. He looked like their dad when he was thinking.

  Charlotte nodded and disappeared down the hall to her room.

  four

  august

  eleven months earlier

  “Rise and shine! We have to leave now if we want to beat the crowds!”

  Charlotte yanked her comforter over her head, trying to block out both the early morning sun and the shrill intruder in her bedroom. She peeked out from beneath the blanket, eyeing the clock on her bedside table. 7:26 a.m. taunted her in blue-green letters.

  “Charlie, get up! We have a two-hour drive ahead of us!” Sophie had pulled back the curtains, summer sunlight spilling into the small room. Sophie propped a hand on her hip and looked down at her with a displeased expression. “CBR, up!”

  It was one of Sophie’s less-creative nicknames for her (full name: Charlotte Beth Romer) and Sophie always said it with the letters blurred together like it was a word (SeeBurr). It reminded Charlotte of that three-headed dog from Greek mythology who guarded the gates to hell or whatever. Cerberus? Anyway, the further Sophie strayed from the traditional “Charlie,” the more trouble Charlotte was in.

  Charlotte buried her face in the mattress, wondering how long she’d have to stay unmoving for Sophie to believe she had spontaneously died. She had completely forgotten about the plans she’d made last week to drive to the city with Sophie and Max.

  She pulled the blanket back over her head.

  Charlotte felt a sudden crushing weight, which could only be all one hundred and twenty-five pounds of Sophie. With an aggravated sigh, Charlotte threw back the blankets and sat up as best she could. Sophie was sprawled over her on her back, arms spread like she’d been shot. Sophie flipped over onto her stomach so they were face to face, one squished-together creature, two-headed. Sophie was grinning and planted a tiny kiss on the tip of Charlotte’s nose.

  “Oh, hey Soph, didn’t hear you knock,” Charlotte said, “by all means, come on in.”

  “I told you pickup was seven sharp.” Sophie dragged herself back to her feet and crossed her arms, back to being angry. “We’re already behind schedule, because someone couldn’t tear themselves away from some stupid documentary.”

  “How come we never do what I want to do?” Max was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame looking halfway between confused and amused. The third head.

  “It was about zombies, Max,” Sophie said. “Zombies, Charlotte.”

  “It was very informative,” Max explained. “Cute jammies, Charlie.”

  Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head. “Oh, good morning, Max, that makes so much more sense, I thought I could smell something.” She pushed some hair from her face, not even bothering to try and puzzle out what Max was doing watching documentaries about the undead before dawn. She stood up and stretched. Max was usually around if Sophie was around. Most of the time Charlotte and Max just tolerated each other. She was sure Max would much rather be alone with Sophie and Charlotte felt the same.

  “C’mon, Charlie, you promised,” Sophie whined, grabbing a purse from the hook on the back of Charlotte’s door and throwing what seemed like random items inside. Charlotte wasn’t sure why Sophie thought she’d need an extra bottle of nail polish. “Let’s go.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Charlotte sighed. “Just give me a few minutes. We’re still going to Halifax, right? It’s not like they only let a certain number of people in every day.” She tried to leave the room, but Max blocked her path.

  “Good morning to you, too.” He smirked, his eyes sweeping over her wild mass of bedhead. “Your hair looks nice.”

  “Shut up,” she barked, colour flushing her cheeks as she pushed past him.

  “A pleasure as always, Charlie,” Max called over his shoulder before she slammed the door to the bathroom.

  • • •

  “Next. Next. Next. Back. No, back. Back. Jesus Christ, just let me do it!” Sophie made a grab for Charlotte’s phone.

  “Sophie!” Charlotte shrieked, holding the music out of her reach. “Hands on the wheel, please!”

  Max poked his head into the front seat from the back. “Cripes, Soph. You’re going to get us all killed. Anyone up to date on their praying?”

  “You, shut up.” Sophie stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend in the rear-view mirror. “I will come back there.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Max leaned back,
sprawling out in the seat. “Why don’t you come back here and shut me up? Charlotte can drive for a bit.”

  Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, no. I’m not playing chauffeur so you two can have a make-out session in the backseat.”

  “Well, hey Charlotte, you’re welcome to come back here and make out with us, too,” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

  Charlotte swivelled around to look at him. “Perfect. I’ll be able to cross ‘threesome from hell’ off my bucket list. You’re so gross, Max.” Oh, what she wouldn’t give to dump Max roadside halfway to Truro and never return.

  Sophie laughed. “Charlie, you always let him wind you up for no reason. Just ignore him, that’s what I do.”

  “It’s her Sagittarius energy,” Max said sagely. “She can’t help it. And there’s no room back here anyway,” he said, shifting around in the tiny backseat of Sophie’s Volkswagen, wedged between their bags, clothes, gym stuff, and other miscellany Sophie was hoarding.

  “Right,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes. “That’s why we’re voting no on the threesome.”

  “See how she doesn’t even try to hide her love for me, Soph? Honestly, it’s so embarrassing. I can’t balance two relationships.”

  “As if,” Charlotte snapped. “The only relationship balancing you’re doing is the one with Sophie and the one with your right hand.”

  “I’m left-handed, thank you very much, so—”

  “Kids, would you give it a rest? I’m not listening to this for the next hour.” Sophie grabbed the phone from Charlotte. “And I’ve had enough of your emo shit.”

  “It’s…Lorde.”

  “What ever. Did you bring your fake?” Sophie settled on a Beach Boys song and tossed the phone back in Charlotte’s lap.

  “ID? No.”

  “Charlie!”

  “That laminated piece of crap barely gets us beer at the liquor store in Tatamagouche. I don’t think we’re going to be getting into any bars in Halifax,” Charlotte said.

  “Wait, your fake works?” Max sat up.

  Sophie smiled sweetly at him in the mirror. “You don’t look like us,” she told him. Charlotte snorted; the only time her fake ever worked was if she went to the liquor store with Sophie, peeking over her shoulder and not saying a word while Sophie was all confidence. Sophie would question the clerk about Argentinian wine varietals as a diversion before settling on a case of vodka sodas.

  Thirty minutes or so later, Charlotte nodded to a passing sign on the highway.

  “Bridge is coming up, somebody get money out.”

  “Since you brought it up, I vote you,” Max said dryly, laying across the backseat with an issue of Cosmo open on his face.

  “No way. I paid for ice cream, since Sophie conveniently left her wallet in the car.” She shot Sophie a look. “You guys have five and a half kilometres to decide.”

  “Maxie.” Sophie craned around in her seat to look at him.

  He lifted the magazine from his face. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Um, eyes on the road please!” Charlotte cried in alarm. “It’s literally a dollar.”

  “My Maximus Prime,” Sophie giggled, still turned to look at him.

  “Please stop.”

  “Sophie, we are going to die!” said Charlotte.

  “Fine, I’ll pay if you stop.” Max grinned.

  Sophie turned back to the road, satisfied. “Ye of little faith,” she said to Charlotte.

  • • •

  The Halifax waterfront was crowded with people, tourists or otherwise, in search of fried foods and various knickknacks. The harbour shimmered under the sun in a pleasant way, but it wasn’t the same as the ocean in River John. It didn’t smell the same for one thing, and you didn’t get the same vibration in the air from the waves. Charlotte looked across the water to Georges Island before ducking into a souvenir tent. It was completely the opposite side of the sea from River John.

  Charlotte picked up a silver ring. “Buy me this.”

  “No,” Sophie said.

  “Please?”

  “Stop.”

  Charlotte sighed and slid the ring back into its faux-velvet place on the table.

  “Don’t give me that.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “I don’t have any more money to spend than you do.”

  “Not true. I saw your new MacBook. Jeeze. I don’t know how you can even use it. It cost more than my car.”

  At the beginning of the summer, Sophie got the receptionist’s job at the bank in town while the regular girl was on maternity leave. Charlotte didn’t know exactly what it was Sophie did, but she thought Sophie just liked having a desk. It must pay extraordinarily well.

  “I needed it for school,” Sophie said.

  They made their way through the small marketplace along the boardwalk. Max was a little ways down, examining the display outside the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic. Sophie picked up a bobblehead clad in a kilt and fur hat.

  “Now this I need.” Sophie held the tiny man up to her face.

  “Oh, really? You need a bagpiping bobblehead?”

  Sophie looked at her blankly. “This speaks to me.”

  Charlotte laughed. “He can go in your dorm next year.”

  “Ah.” Sophie set the figurine back on the shelf as if it had lost its appeal. “It’s too soon for that.”

  Charlotte slipped a wooden bangle around her wrist. “Sooner than you think.”

  Sophie’s life goal had been to become a lawyer ever since they’d watched Legally Blonde together when they were nine. Dalhousie University in Halifax offered a respected law program, once you had your undergrad. Way more years of school than Charlotte could ever afford.

  “That’s terrifying.” Sophie sighed and looked at Charlotte out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind at all?”

  Charlotte removed the bracelet and put it back on the table. “No. I think it’s best if I take the year off to work.”

  Sophie looked sad. “That’s why I’m so scared.”

  “Sophie, we’re still gonna see each other all the time.”

  “It’ll be the first time we’ve been apart since the third grade.”

  “You went to Florida in grade seven. We survived that.”

  “That was for a week.”

  “I’ll probably be in the city all the time. Nothing is going to change.”

  Sophie seemed unsure, reaching for the bagpiper again. “I just don’t know if college is the right choice, right now. I don’t know how I’m gonna feel in a year. It’s ridiculous that we’re supposed to choose the rest of our lives. Not just at eighteen, but at any point, really.”

  “Listen.” Charlotte raised a finger to Sophie’s face. “One of us has gotta go to university. There’s twelve dollars in my bank account. So guess who’s going? You.”

  Sophie smacked Charlotte’s hand away playfully. “Or we could both blow it off, get an apartment, and pay for rent and food by becoming women of the night!”

  “You mean like vigilante crime fighters?”

  Sophie laughed. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

  “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “Forgot to tell Max no mayo.”

  Charlotte glanced through the windshield into the sandwich shop, where she could see Max waiting in line behind a cluster of middle-school girls. She skimmed her finger the length of the rubber runner along the bottom of the passenger side window. “But you love mayo.”

  Sophie eyed her. “I’m off it.”

  They’d spent the majority of the day down by the water, doing touristy things and taking touristy pictures even though they weren’t really tourists at all. The day winding to a close left them headed back to River John, stopping for food right before the on-ram
p for the highway.

  “I was using his laptop when I was at his place,” Sophie said quietly. “He had all these tabs open for Queen’s University in Ontario.”

  Charlotte frowned and propped her feet up on the dashboard. “That might not mean anything.”

  “He would’ve said something if it didn’t. The reason he hasn’t mentioned it is because he’s seriously considering it.” Sophie pushed her hair back from her face, and Charlotte could see her eyes following Max through the window.

  “Grade twelve hasn’t even started yet,” Charlotte reminded her. “He’s going to change his mind a million times. You both will.”

  “Is it bad I don’t care?” Sophie blurted out. Then she paused. “That sounds bad. I just mean…we can barely do no-distance, I can’t exactly see us dating from different provinces.”

  “Maybe it would be good for you two,” Charlotte joked.

  Sophie laughed. “Maybe. But, I mean…sometimes I think we got together just out of habit. Or familiarity? We were already good friends, but dating is, like, too much more work or something. It’s not sustainable.”

  “Then just end it. If you’re so miserable.”

  “The thing is, I’m not miserable—I’m comfortable. It’s fine…if I were brave enough, things would be very different.”

  Charlotte shifted and tucked her legs back underneath her. “You’ll figure it out. You always do. And you have me.”

  Sophie bit her lip and looked at Charlotte, a cross between melancholy and a million miles away. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

  “Ugh. Sophie, please, I really don’t want to know what else you found on Max’s computer.”

  “Good call. We absolutely cannot let Charlotte find my blog about her.” Max had appeared at Sophie’s window, carrying three foot-long sandwiches. “Daily accounts of your life, Charlie, and my readers are so moved. I’m very close to getting you a movie deal.”

  “It probably won’t be the kind of movie you’re interested in, Max. Scarce nudity,” Charlotte commented.