Being Wrong | ✓

Part 19

Travis looked down at Charlie, pressed against him in the bus seat, and let out a long sigh. He kept going back through everything that had happened in his mind, trying to pinpoint what had gone wrong, but he had no answers. At first Charlie had just seemed to be getting tireder as they went, but at some point that had turned into distress and Travis had no idea why.

What was he supposed to do? He rubbed Charlie's arm, slow and gentle, but Charlie just made a sound of irritation and curled his body away. Travis stopped.

Things only got worse after they got off the bus. Charlie seemed aware of, and irritated by, every little thing. The sun and the wind and his shoes and everything, until he looked like he might start crying at any moment. He wouldn't look at Travis and only seemed more agitated when Travis tried to talk to him.

Charlie's grandma answered the door, and Travis could see trouble forming before she even opened her mouth. She took in the bags they were holding and shook her head at Charlie. "You didn't buy a bunch of junk, did you?"

Charlie's only response was a fussy sound as he walked past without looking at her. Travis quickly shook his head at her as she opened her mouth to reprimand him. He didn't know what would happen if Charlie was pushed right now, but he didn't want to find out.

She managed to hold her tongue long enough for Charlie to get to his room and shut the door, then turned to Travis. "What's the matter this time?"

"I don't know. He's just... tired, I guess." Travis was feeling pretty tired himself.

Charlie's grandma sighed and rubbed at her temple. "I love that boy, but he's just so difficult. What am I supposed to do about him?"

Travis shrugged. "I don't know what you're supposed to do. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. I just want to make things better and I can't."

"It's not so easy, is it?" She sounded like she took more satisfaction from that than Travis would have liked, but also maybe less than he had come to expect from her.

"No, I guess not."

"I never know what to do. I never have. Not with him or with his mother, and—" Her voice broke and she took a moment to stop and breathe. "Well, you just let me know if you figure anything out."

Travis didn't get a chance to respond, because at that moment Charlie came back out of his room. He'd changed into his pyjamas and put the hoodie back on over the top.

"Charlie—" Charlie's grandma started, that lecturing tone back her in her voice.

Travis shot her a look, because, really? If she hadn't worked out that scolding him when he was barely holding himself together was a bad idea, there was no hope for her.

She paused, pursed her lips, and changed her approach. "We're having pasta for dinner — yes, the kind you like — but I will put yours in the fridge for tomorrow if you're still at Travis' house."

Charlie ignored her, or perhaps didn't even hear her at all judging from the blank look on his face. He headed for the front door without acknowledging either of them.

Charlie's grandma gestured at Charlie's back and gave Travis a look of exasperation.

"I think sometimes the best we can do is not making things worse. Maybe that's not enough, but maybe that's not our fault. And it's definitely not his fault." Travis shrugged and turned to follow Charlie. "I'm gonna go find out what my best is."

Travis caught up with Charlie outside his flat. Charlie had leant his forehead against the front door and his fingernails were idly scratching at it. As soon as Travis unlocked the door for him, he headed straight for the sofa and bundled himself up in a blanket.