Dreams

Charlie’s day was boring. Her mother would have told her that she just needed a nap or maybe something to eat, but the truth was that Charlie had been feeling unsettled since last Tuesday, when her grandmother had passed away. A phone call in the middle of dinner had delivered the news and Charlie remembered clearly the sadness on her mothers face, and seeing her father cry for the first time in her life. The details of it all were still unclear to Charlie but all that mattered was that she wouldn’t be seeing Nanna again.

A second phone call at noon a few days later brought more unexpected news and tears, although this time they were tears of joy from her mother. A polished voice from the Tilbridge School on the line, with an offer of congratulations to Charlie for passing the final interview stage. She was offered a coveted spot among their class in the fall and had a week to send in the deposit and sign the appropriate forms.

Despite the events of the past few days, Charlie had slept quite well for once last night, not waking up a single time, and this seemed to please her parents to no end. Never mind that she had just been accepted into a prodigious program for gifted students, her parents had always insisted on making such a fuss over her whenever opportunity presented itself.

Charlie didn’t share her their enthusiasm for this news. To her it was almost as bad as the news of her grandmothers passing. Her parents saw her acceptance to Tilbridge as a once impossible dream - the tuition fee for the first year covered by her grandmother during the last week of her life. The check had come in the mail and had sat on of the yellow tablecloth in the dining room, a constant reminder of clashing desires and expectations.

While Charlie couldn’t have told anyone, herself included, quite what it was that she wanted to do with her life yet, she knew the foreboding and manicured façade of Tilbridge did not factor in. She’d seen the photos of the spotless lawns and polished, poised students in their matching uniforms, and they made her skin itch.

After breakfast, Charlie felt in a talkative mood, a rare thing. But as usual, her parents didn’t seem to grasp most of what she was saying, which frustrated her to no end. No, she wasn’t tired, and no she wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t any of that – in a grand irony her frustration stemmed from the difficulty she found in communicating with her parents, and the way that they never seemed to understand her. They were her parents; surely they of all people would know what she wanted?

The kitchen was quiet as the plates were cleared. A small black book sat next to the check, propped up against a vase of flowers, the book pages splayed to show a charcoal sketch of a mountain range. A spring breeze flew through the open window and the pages turned over, figures flitting across the pages. City-lion-rose-watch-sailboat-landscape-stag-eye. The pages stilled and a charcoal bird sat in a charcoal cage on the left page, the right page blank. Charlie was sure it had belonged to her grandmother.

She still saw her from time to time, even though no one else noticed her. She’d almost told her parents one evening but they would have only dismissed it as a symptom of her overactive imagination. Charlie supposed that maybe you had to have a certain point of view in life to be able to see ghosts, but her grandmother was the only one she’d seen so far so maybe it was just luck after all.

Not even Anna could see her. She’d flown in from out of town for the funeral and had walked straight passed Nanna several times. Charlie was glad to see her big sister – she was hardly ever around anymore, being intensely busy with her first year of medical school. At first, their parents had been disappointed that Anna didn’t want to follow in her grandmother’s footsteps and become a lawyer, but they quickly relented when she expressed her interest in becoming a doctor instead.

Tonight it was Charlie and Anna on their own, a sisters night while their parents went out to a nice restaurant for their anniversary. Anna made Charlie’s favorite, spaghetti and the two ate in companionable silence. The small black book and the check sat on the table between them.

Anna noticed Charlie staring at the sketch of the caged bird. “Did you know that the book was Nanna’s? She did all of those drawings herself, she was so talented. I can’t believe we never knew that about her when she was still around…” Sighing, she shook herself and gathered up their plates, pausing to pat Charlie fondly on the head. “I can’t believe she left you all that money for school. It’s so exciting, having Tilbridge on your resume would set you up for any job you wanted!”

Charlie furrowed her brow. She had no idea what her sister was talking about, and had only been half paying attention. She was busy drawing abstract shapes and scribbles on her napkin with a purple marker she’d found on the floor.

Seeing her sister at the sink Charlie made to get up as well but Anna flapped her hands at her, chiding. “No, no, stay in your seat! I’ll just be a minute clearing up these dishes and then it’ll be time for bed. I didn’t realize how late it was getting.”

Without waiting for an answer her sister turned on the little red radio by the sink and began to scrub the dishes. The evening news rolled over the airwaves but Charlie paid no attention. She was still mesmerized by the bird sketch and the check next to it. She had to get closer to them.

Painstakingly she made her way out of her chair. It had always been difficult for her, but lately she was getting much better at it and could usually get in and out unassisted, although her parents weren’t always keen on her stubborn independence.

The bird sat in its cage, and now that she saw it up close she thought it looked rather sad. Charlie’s eyes wandered to the check and its decorative background of mountains. There were no birds in that sky, which struck her as a shame. She uncapped the purple marker and began to draw some in herself.

“Charlie! What are you doing?!” Anna’s shriek startled Charlie and her hand knocked over the vase of flowers. Water pooled across the table and Charlie managed to snatch the notebook up seconds before it was ruined. Anna threw a dishcloth onto the table and held up the check gingerly, now a soaked and blotchy thing, barely recognizable. Purple ink dripped from one corner. A red blush was beginning to creep across Anna’s face as her shock turned to anger, but in the corner the ghost of their grandmother sat laughing her head thrown back in silent mirth.

Lights shone through the kitchen window, announcing the arrival of their parents.

“Mom and Dad will never let me hear the end of this - the one time I’m in town and can babysit and you eat your inheritance! You just drew all over a $20,000 check like it was an art project for Gods sake! Nanna would be rolling over in her grave if she could see this…” Her voice rose hysterically, the space between her words growing shorter and shorter.

Charlie looked over to the corner again, catching her grandmother’s eye. The old woman winked at her once and smiled before disappearing. Footsteps and the jangling of keys preceded their parents as they swept into the kitchen.

“How was your night girls…?” Their fathers voice trailed into stunned silence as he took in the spilled water and Anna holding the ruined check.

“Don’t tell me that is all that’s left of your sisters Tilbridge tuition check.”

Anna laid the bedraggled scrap on paper towels and began to pat it dry.

“ It was an accident, my fault really. I should have been watching her more closely.”

“Charlie! You know that you aren’t allowed to draw on things like that! You have your own special paper for art projects!” Her mother walked over to her and crouched so their faces were at the same level. Charlie felt a hot flush rise in her cheeks.

“Beth she’s only a toddler. She still doesn’t know any better. It’s unfortunate but we can’t be mad at her for that.”

“But what about Tilbridge? Your mother sent that check to cover the first year of tuition so that she could follow in her footsteps and set herself up to go to law school.”

Charlie’s father shook his head and picked Charlie up, patting her on the back. “Well, she’s already been accepted. We’ll call the school first thing tomorrow morning and see if they have any scholarships she’d qualify for. Worst case scenario she attends another preschool. She’s a smart cookie, she’s already been accepted to two others.”

He carried Charlie up the stairs to her bed, taking the notebook from her hands and setting it on the bedside table. Her mother joined him and they tucked her in and read her “The Moth and the Butterfly”, her favorite story. Anna came in after them to kiss her on the forehead. “Don’t worry kid, grades matter more than what preschool you went to.” She ruffled her hair fondly and left Charlie to dreams of birds and butterflies and mountains.

14 years passed and Charlie sat on her bed, flipping through that small black book that her grandmother had left her, filled with drawings so familiar that Charlie had memorized their order by heart. Flipping to the last pages she regarded the caged bird and the empty page beside it. She had often wondered why her grandmother hadn’t drawn anything there – from the date on the books cover she had been sixteen when she got the notebook, about Charlie’s own age.

There was something odd about that last page – not only was it blank, it also felt thicker than the others. Two of the pages must have gotten stuck together. With the utmost care Charlie slid her fingernail along the edge, searching for any gaps between the sheets. She found purchase and ever so slowly began to peel them apart. Sandwiched between them was a third piece of paper. It tumbled out and onto her bed – a check identical to the one Charlie had drawn all over when she was two years old. Where before there had been a note specifying use for Tilbridge tuition, now there was a simple line written in her grandmothers distinctive, looping handwriting.

‘Go do what you want to Charlie. Do what feels right to you.’

$20,000 to follow her dreams…She pinned it carefully onto the corkboard above her desk, placing it beside a crumpled and faded piece of paper covered in purple ink that had been long ago rescued from the trash by Anna. She’d given it to her sister for the sentimental value that Charlie could only appreciate now that she was old enough.

Taking a deep breath she pulled a thick pamphlet from her desk, half-completed. She dropped it unceremoniously into the garbage can, where the gold-embossed title “Harvard Law School Application” sat glimmering at her haughtily. Ignoring it entirely Charlie took out her watercolor palette and brought the book of her grandmothers artwork back to her desk, opening it to the last empty pages. Water and pigment flowed down the bristles and onto the blank white expanse. Yellow blended with orange on a field of blue, and a bird took wing on the page, flying out into territory uncharted.