Yesterday's weather couldn't have been more perfect for the beach party, and I guess the weather gods must've been on his side because today is a different story. Rain is pouring down like the sky is an upturned bucket, so loud on the roof and against the windows that it sounds like I'm under the interstate, and I think today will be a home day. I've earned one after the last few days, I figure.

Lou's in the shower when I wake up, so I switch on the coffee machine and when she comes down in a t-shirt and sweatpants, I know we have the same plans for today.

"How's your migraine?"

"Gone, thank god," she says. "The bastard stole an entire day from me."

I kiss her. She smells like mango and coconut. I want to wrap myself up in her, in her scent. "I was shitting myself when you weren't answering my texts. I thought you'd died. Or you were ghosting me."

"I would never ghost you. I felt like I died, though."

I stand on my tiptoes to kiss her forehead, each temple, the tip of her nose and then her lips; I want to fill my eyes and lungs and mind with her, to push out everything my mom said. As happy as I am in this moment, there's still a tight knot in my stomach, the weight of everything Mom wants me to consider, everything I want to ignore. But that isn't an option, because Lou circles her hand around my wrist, laces her fingers with mine, and says, "Come on, I want to hear everything."

I make a couple coffees. Hot, this time. This is fall weather. I need a pumpkin spice latte and a fluffy blanket and a mystery book; I am ready for September. We move upstairs to the snug, to the deep sofa that cradles our bodies the moment we sit down.

"It was weird," I say. "Nice in a way, 'cause I haven't seen Mom in ages, and we had a pretty good day Friday, when we went to Mount Rushmore and the bear place. But it was hard, too."

Lou plays with my hand, her thumb drawing circles over my life line. "How was she?"

"Clearly in a bad place. Dad totally took her by surprise with the separation. She had no idea it was coming, and I get that. The defining characteristic of every relationship I've ever had. She's gutted. Can't get her head around it. I think she's drinking more to compensate, and running away because that, apparently, is what Miller women do."

"How was it, leaving her?"

"Hard. She cried. I felt awful. But Emmett's with her now, and Nolan'll be there tomorrow."

Lou's voice is soft as cashmere, smooth as honey. "You're a good daughter."

"I haven't been," I say. "I ran away from her too. Like, the minute she told me she and Dad were separating, I shut myself off."

"Don't beat yourself up about that. I'm sure your mom understands. Divorce is hard on everyone, especially if it comes out of nowhere."

"Mmm."

"You think she's going to be okay?"

"She'll get there," I say. "I think her main problem is that she's lonely. She's always surrounded herself with people, probably half the reason she had five kids, so she was never alone when we started moving out until Nolan left and it was just her and Dad and then he left." The more I talk, the more I see how similar Mom and I are. We're the ones who get left behind. The ones who end up alone and run away to cope with it all. That ugly guilt churns in my stomach, my chest aching.

"I'm sure she'll meet someone, if she wants to. She's a smart, beautiful woman."

"With five kids and a drinking problem," I say.

Lou shrugs one shoulder and says, "There's someone out there for everyone."

"Yeah, and Mom thought that was Dad. For thirty-five years. Somehow I don't think she's going to be shacking up with someone new anytime soon. Her emotions are all over the place and she isn't looking after herself right."

Lou sighs. I sip my coffee. I made it too strong. The caffeine crash later will be a hard one. "I'm sorry. It must've been difficult to see her like that."

"Yeah. She ... she asked me move in with her."

Lou leans back. "What?"

I lift a shoulder. It is what it is. "She wants me to live with her."

"Charlie, you're not responsible for your mom."

"I know. I'm not responsible at all."

"What do you mean?" Her hand is on my knee, warming my skin through my cotton leggings.

"She offered me a job. Her firm needs a legal secretary and she said it's mine if I want it," I say. I can't look at Lou, at the frown deepening the crease between her eyebrows.

"You said no, right?"

"I didn't say anything, really. Well, she kept talking about it so I said I'd think about it."

"I'm sorry, what?" Lou shifts further away, like she needs a bit of distance to understand what she's looking at. "You're thinking about moving to South Dakota?"

"I don't know." I shrug again. My shoulders are getting a workout today. "I have to think about it, right? It's a job, it's responsibility and stability. I know it's not what I want to do but it is what I've been looking for, and Mom needs me. Plus, I mean, what're the odds? I must've applied to a hundred jobs in Rapid City and heard nothing and then I go see her and she has one for me."

"I'm sorry, I..." Lou trails off, hands in her hair, and she stands. "I don't think I understand what's going on here. You've been applying for jobs in Rapid City?"

"Before," I say. "Before us."

"Okay. And you still want to go there?" She's frowning. It kills me as much as the guilt in my gut does.

"Not really, but it's a job. The whole reason I left Austin was because I couldn't find one. God, Lou, I must've filled out hundreds of applications. It's soul destroying to apply for every single job and not get a single interview."

"Yes, but in Rapid fucking City?" she cries out, flinging a hand out. "God, Charlotte, I am so confused. Is this about wanting to live with your mom? Or wanting to be responsible? Or wanting to have a job? I don't get it. I'm guessing you only chose to apply to jobs in Rapid City because that's where your mom is and that makes it easy, because I bet if she wasn't there you would never choose to go to South Dakota."

"Of course I wouldn't," I say, laughing. "Obviously it's only because of my mom."

"So you do want to move in with her?"

"No, but I don't have money. I can't afford to move somewhere and hope I find work. I don't want to live there, but at least I'd be able to save. I'd have some kind of stability."

"What's this sudden obsession with stability?"

"I don't have any!" I cry out, almost throwing coffee everywhere. "I thought I did when I was in Austin, and then it all came crumbling down because I lost my job and my friends left and I had to leave my home there, and when you don't have any stability, it's pretty easy to obsess over!" I don't mean to yell but my voice is creeping higher. "I'm not saying I'm definitely moving in with my mom, I'm just saying it's something I have to consider. I can't sponge off you forever, Lou. She needs me, and I need what she's offering."

"Why haven't you looked for work elsewhere? Places you actually want to be?" Her face is turning pink, her hands clawed in her hair. "I know you miss your friends, so why haven't you applied for work in California?"

This isn't what I expected. I don't know what I expected, but not a fight. I can't keep up with Lou's questions or my thoughts, which have been so jumbled recently it's like trying to match a drawer of entirely odd socks. This is too much. I only wanted to share what's been plaguing my mind. I open my mouth but there's a lump in my throat and oh my god, I'm going to cry.

"You're scared of what you want," Lou says.

"What does that mean?"

"You're so scared of the things you want that you'd rather do all this shit you don't want to do, so you can't fail or let yourself down. You don't want to go to South Dakota, but it's easy, right? You keep talking about responsibility, but if you go there just because your mom wants you to be there, someone to follow her around and pick up the pieces, then you're kind of giving up any responsibility for yourself and your own decisions."

I shrink into the sofa. Lou paces the room. I drink my coffee, but it tastes all wrong and I can't swallow right, my throat too tight, my eyes burning. "If you know me so well, what do I want?"

Lou's shoulders slump. She sits on the arm of the sofa and looks at me with baleful eyes. "Come on, Charlotte. You know what you want. I know what you want. But you'd rather get in your car and drive fifteen fucking hours back to South Dakota than admit that you want to stay here."

I look up at her through tear-filled eyes. I don't cry. Why am I crying now? Because she's hit the nail on the fucking head? Because she's found my soft spots and she's brought a shovel, ready to dig?

"You're scared," she says. "And it's okay to be scared. God, I could write a book on fear. But you're not the only person in this equation. I can't sit here and listen to you talking about leaving like you're not leaving me."

Her voice cracks on the last word and so do I. My tears fall and I don't know what to say because I don't want to go. I don't want to leave her.

"Tell me," Lou says. "What are you so scared of? Just tell me. Please." She slips from the arm to the seat, close enough that her thigh presses against my feet. Her hand rests on my ankle. "Yesterday you said you loved me, and now you're talking about moving a thousand miles away and I don't get it, Charlotte."

It's a while before I'm able to speak. Eventually, I open my mouth and I say, "Every relationship I've ever had has ended. And I never see it coming. I always get my heart broken because I don't see the signs and I get left. I am always getting left behind." I cover my face. I can't look at her as I bare myself to her. "If I commit to life here, and I get blindsided again, then I'll end up stuck in a town where everybody knows who I am, where all the pieces of me will be on display."

"I'm not going to blindside you, Charlie. I love you. You really think I'd turn around one day and end it, out of nowhere?"

"I don't know! Because I never think that'll happen, and every fucking time it does!"

"Look at me. Charlotte, look at me. Please." She leans over and pulls my hands from my face, my tear-streaked cheeks. "I am asking you to stay. I don't want you traipsing off to South Dakota to get a shitty job and live with your mom when you could get a shitty job here and stay with me."

She's saying everything I want to hear but I'm all worked up now and the words won't sink in.

"You're scared of people leaving you," Lou says. "Right? Your friends left Austin. Your dad left your mom. Your mom left Montana. Your ex-girlfriends all walked away. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Then I can promise you one thing: I will not leave you."

"You can't say that."

"I can, actually." There's that twitch of a smile. "My life is here, Charlie. I'm not going anywhere. If anyone's going to do the leaving, it'll have to be you."

When I don't say anything, she pulls me to her chest. "Listen. I can't promise you forever. I don't know how things will go. But I can promise you that if we don't work out, you won't be in the dark, and I can promise you that I'm not going anywhere." Her hands are in my hair and I'm hiccuping against her chest and she's holding me tight.

"I'm sorry," I manage to mumble, my words muffled by her t-shirt.

"It's okay."

"I was scared to look for work here in case you thought this was just a summer fling. I didn't want to be a presumptuous asshole. But now I'm just sponging off you. Like an asshole. All your friends probably think I'm using you for your money."

A loud laugh bursts out of her and she lets me go, hands on my shoulders, holding me away from her so she can look me in the eye. "Oh my god, Charlotte, seriously? If you're using me for my money, you're doing a fucking terrible job."

"You paid, like, a thousand dollars for my flight."

"Because I wanted to. Jesus, Charlie, I didn't want you driving. Although if I'd known your mom was going to fill you with all this Rapid City propaganda, I might've thought twice about paying for you to go and have your mind changed about me," she says with a quiet laugh.

"I have never changed my mind about you. I'm pretty sure I've been in love with you since my first day here."

"Come here." She pulls me against her again and I press my ear to her chest, her hair in my face. Her pulse is strong and steady. Mine is galloping all over the place. "I love you, Charlotte. Even though you've given me whiplash with the last twenty minutes."

"Sorry," I say again. She squeezes me. I count the beats of her heart for a full minute. "Did you know your heart rate is exactly sixty?"

"I'm very reliable," she says. "You should get a job here, Charlie. If I'd realized how hung up on the idea of work you were, I'd have suggested it sooner."

"If I work here, I have to live here, too," I say.

"Well, obviously."

"No, I mean here. With you. I can't afford rent or anythi–"

Lou laughs and strokes my hair. "God, Charlotte, everything you own in the world is in this house. You already live here. And I want you to stay." She lowers her head and kisses my hair and says, "You're a townie now."

We sit like that for a while. My coffee has chilled off but I swallow down the last of it, wincing at the bitterness. "Is anywhere even hiring around here?"

"I think the golf club is looking for a front desk person. Not the most exhilarating work but I could put in a good word for you, if you want."

"You don't need to do that. I should be able to get a job without needing my girlfriend's help," I say. Even though clearly I need all the help I can get.

"It's no different to taking the job your mom was going to get for you. Everything in this world is about who you know, Charlie. If you don't use that to your advantage, you'll be the one who falls behind because everybody else knows someone who knows someone."

I end up horizontal on the sofa, lying on my side with my head in Lou's lap as she plays with my hair.

"You've got this thing about independence and doing things on your own because you think that's what you have to do, but you don't," she says. Her voice is butter, her fingers methodically working at a bonfire-scented tangle in my hair. "And hey, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you want to strike out on your own. I think it terrifies you. It makes you miserable."

My chest is cracked open; she has a magnifying glass trained on all the deepest parts of me and I want to cringe away from the truth but she's laying it out in front of me, turning each piece over and over with her words.

"For some people, sure, happiness is tied to money and notoriety and success, but I don't think that's how you work, is it?" One hand grazes my cheek. I could fall asleep like this, her voice a lullaby. "Be honest, Charlotte. When you think of happiness, what do you think of?"

"This place. Fisher."

"I am offering you a life here, because I love you. I want you here. I want to share a bed with you and make your coffee and sit by the water with you. I want you to be happy."

"I want that too," I say.

"Hallelujah, Charlie admits what she wants!" She holds up a fist in victory. "You know, I know you like things spelled out, but sometimes you're going to have to ask for me to know. Or, you know, you could do some of the spelling yourself."

I take a deep breath. "I want to live by the lake and have time to run and read. I want to be able to see my cousins. I like making new friends and I love that your friends treat me like I'm their friend already. I want you. I want to watch you play piano and I want to cook for you. I want to meet your daughter and your parents. I want to belong here."

Lou strokes my cheek with her thumb and places her finger under my chin to turn my head. I stare up at her, into that blue-gray gaze. "You already do."

*

at last, charlie's open about what she wants! i hope you enjoyed this one!