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Chapter 52: The Day After
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 18:36:58 +0000 UTCCharlie, Alan, and I were sitting around the dining table, each of us poking at small, elegant boxes of fancy food from a new restaurant we had decided to try
“This is really good!” Charlie said, his voice slightly more alive than earlier. “Check this out.”
He used a pair of wooden chopsticks to lift a bite-sized piece of what looked like seared tuna drizzled in some fancy glaze.
I leaned over and took it off the chopsticks.
“Wow, that’s good,” I said, surprised. “I’m ordering that next time.”
I took another bite, leaned back, and sighed contentedly. “I love to be rich.”
Alan gave Charlie a look and said, “You might not want to share your chopsticks with him. I think he's come down with something.”
I looked weirdly at Dad. “Dad, I went to the ophthalmologist…”
“No, I think you have a little flu,” Alan said.
I shrugged. “If you say so.”
Charlie completely ignored the conversation and chimed in, “Before I forget, you got plans for tomorrow night?”
“No,” Alan replied.
“Make some,” Charlie said with a smirk, "I'm gonna need the house to myself."
I raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the lucky one?”
“Kathy,” Charlie said casually. “She lives up the beach. Beautiful woman. Only problem—she’s married to kind of a friend of mine.”
I scoffed. “At least you have that limitation.”
“But he cheats on her with her best friend,” Charlie added, “She throws him out...”
“I get it, the revenge type,” I said casually.
“Jake!” Alan snapped.
“What? He cheats on her, she probably wants to do the same. ‘Eye for an eye.’ You can even find that in the Bible.”
“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind,” Alan said, shaking his head.
I smirked. “Yeah, well… I don’t think Gandhi ever met Uncle Charlie.”
Charlie reached over and grabbed the last few pieces from my box.
“Hey!” I said, only half serious.
Alan raised an eyebrow. “I told you not to eat his food. He’s coming down with something.”
Charlie shrugged and popped a piece into his mouth. “Relax. I never get sick.”
———
The next morning, I walked into the living room to find my dad bundled up in a hoodie, with tissues stuffed in his sleeves, sniffling miserably.
“Yeah, Dad, you were really correct,” I said, watching him blow his nose like a foghorn.
Alan looked up with watery eyes. “This isn’t funny.”
Charlie walked in, perfectly fine, sipping his coffee. “Well, I can't say he didn't warn me.”
I shook my head, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of water. Then I dug through the cabinet until I found the flu medicine.
“Here,” I said, handing them to Dad. “Hydrate and medicate.”
Alan gave me a weak smile. “Thank you, Jake.”
“I ordered chicken soup, so you don’t have to worry about food,” I added.
“Oh, Jake, I love you!” Alan said dramatically, reaching out like he wanted to hug me.
I took a few steps back. “Let’s save that for when you’re not contagious.” even if was probably me who infected him
After making sure Dad was set up with soup, medicine, and a box of tissues, I grabbed my backpack and waited in the living room.
Mom arrived shortly after
———
A few days later, I was back in Malibu. As soon as I walked into the house, Dad was already giving me a recap of everything that happened after I left.
“So Uncle Charlie got sick that day, huh?” I said, then murmured, “What a bad luck.”
Right then, Charlie walked in with his usual smug grin, looking bright and energized.
“Good morning, everyone!” he said cheerfully, as if he hadn’t been patient zero two days ago.
“I thought you’d be in a bad mood,” I said, eyeing him. “You didn’t get the revenge type...”
“Jake!” Alan snapped
“Yeah,” Charlie said with a touch of regret. “But I got a little email this morning from an ex-girlfriend who says she needs to ‘see’ me,” he added, making air quotes with his fingers.
Berta, who had just walked in with a laundry basket, raised an eyebrow. “No kidding. I wonder if she's ‘knocked up,’” she said, matching his air quotes perfectly.
I laughed.
Then I paused for a second.
Funny. It felt like I hadn’t seen Berta in a long time—even though I’d literally seen her last week.
“Nobody's knocked up,” Charlie said quickly. “I haven’t heard from her in five years.”
“So she’s bringing you a four-year-old,” Berta replied, deadpan.
“Believe me, nobody’s bringing anything,” Charlie muttered.
“Remember Jill?” he added.
“Jill the slob?” Berta asked.
“Yeah, but do you remember how hot she was?”
“Sure, she was a tight unit,” Berta said, setting the basket down. “But she left dirty dishes everywhere. Swear to God, this broad left half-eaten casseroles in the bathtub.”
“So?” Charlie shrugged. “With a body like that, she could drink out of the toilet if she wanted to.”
“Eww, Uncle Charlie,” I groaned. “I’m still eating here.”
“Wait a minute. Isn’t she the one who dumped you?” Berta asked, narrowing her eyes.
"“Somebody dumped Charlie?”" Dad and I said in unison.
“Broke his little black heart,” Berta said with a smirk. “It was pathetic.”
“She didn’t dump me,” Charlie insisted. “She had personal problems and moved to Europe to, you know, find herself.”
"“Berta?”" Dad and I said, turning toward her.
“He wept,” Berta said flatly.
“I did not. I felt the appropriate amount of sadness for a good relationship that had run its course,” Charlie said, lifting his chin.
We both looked at Berta again
“I had to carry him to bed three nights in a row,” she replied without missing a beat.
“I was perfectly happy sleeping under the deck,” Charlie said defensively.
"“Right,”" we replied in unison, giving him matching deadpan stares.
Dad and I perfectly timed side a high-five
