charlie-byrd

[charlie-byrd]

She didn’t know what any of it meant. Was all of this just a consolation prize? A way to absolve his guilt? Ease his loneliness? Harper had no idea, and yet she was still deeply emotional about it, because this was not a typical Charlie Byrd move.

A typical Charlie Byrd move was to buy a six-pack of beer and sit back and laugh. Make fun of the town of Southerners and their age-old traditions. Point out how he’d never do something like this, especially not something that had anything to do with romance. He’d probably grumble about how romance was dead, and it was better not to trust others, and whatnot. Harper got really used to this side of Charlie, in the same way she was used to all of the different mixed up pieces that made up the Puzzle of the man she loved.

But here she was, with a basket filled with sentimental things. Things that reminded her of their life before. Things that made her want to hold him oh so close. He had to love her, right? Maybe not in the most conventional sense, but then, when had they ever been conventional? Harper didn’t need roses and teddy bears and Valentine’s Day cards. She didn’t need diamonds and gifts aplenty. She didn’t even really need the bagels or the moonshine or the chocolates, though they were all loved and appreciated. She just needed him.

She’d honor the voucher, and end their argument immediately, if that meant she got to have him. She’d forgive him forever, and forget about the whole fight, if it meant things would be okay.

And it was in that moment that Charlie walked out, crouching down to her level, and she looked up at him with reverence. “What does this mean? What does this all mean? Because I love you with my whole heart, Charles Marley Byrd. And though that thought scares me, I’d do anything for you. Even if you love the Mets. Even if you make me wanna scream sometimes. Even if you’re the slowest goddamn idiot in the whole entire world.”

It was on the edge of his tongue just then to make a joke. It would relieve some of the tension that grew into a tighter and tighter knot in his chest. That was his move right about now. Deflect and then move on. Except moving on never meant moving forward where Harper was concerned. They'd been frozen in this inbetween state for years on end. He was so very tired of it. Hearing Harper telling him that she loved him, opening up a chasm in him though.

"I love you Harper." He'd expected free fall after saying those words but it was the opposite. There was relief on the other side. Now there was no stopping the worst or, hopefully, the best from happening. "I should have told you that before I got on the plane to come here. Or last year. Or a long time ago, honestly." He paused. A small if scared smile came to him. "We've really been running the long game here haven't we.

"I'm sure there is a long line of people waiting to tell you what questionable taste you have there, but honestly fuck them. And fuck doing things in order. I've never taken you on a real date in all these years and you deserve one."

[charlie-byrd]

The days stretched out after the incident in the orchard and before he knew it a week had passed. The silence that feel between them felt too wide to be breached. He was miserable in the mornings when he woke up and stretched out a hand to touch the cold sheets next to him. And then he compounded that misery because he hadn't given himself permission to feel this way. He'd been careful never to need someone other than himself. He'd also, he realized, been deluded in thinking that he could ever cut himself off from Harper.

And yet the option moving forward felt just as scary as the future without her. How did anyone manage something like this?

He figured when in Frostford, do as they did. So he bought a basket while out of town (to avoid the gossip). The items he put in it fell together overnight. He still had the invitation to the wedding they'd met at. It was tucked away at the back of one of his architecture books. He'd thought of tossing it, but every time it came to mind it just didn't feel right. He'd rationalize it as a joke. Twenty years from now he could pull it out and show it to Harper and they could chuckle about how that marriage hadn't lasted. (Of course, he hadn't been smart enough to realize he was already painting Harper into his future.)

He set it outside the house after she left and proceeded to have about five different panic attacks. He called his friends back in New York. All of them, with varying degrees of success, were able to calm him down. Eventually he ended up on the back porch with some moonshine.

He'd set up a motion sensor outside his front door because he may be living in Alabama, but he was still a New Yorker. When the notification came over his smart watch he paced up and down the hallway a bit and then went for the door. He'd figured there was a not insignificant chance this wouldn't go down well with Harper. Maybe that incident in the orchard had been the last straw. But when he opened the door, he could see her smile.

His palms sweated as he crouched down and sat there in his doorway. "I'm sorry Harp," he said. "You've been sadled with the slowest goddamn idiot in the world."

Harper Goldman knew she should bid on a basket. It was for charity, for god’s sake! And, at the very least, it would help her meet someone in town, someone who wasn’t Charlie. Maybe if the basket was great and the person attached to it was as well, she’d have a reason to begin to forget all about Charlie. But the sheer thought of that gave her hives. Charlie was her person, even if he didn’t see it. Even if it took him forever to figure that out. She’d make herself wait forever, if it meant he could be hers.

So she left the bidding, without dropping any of the tickets in any baskets. And she felt bad, because they were 20 tickets that would go to no one… but she pocketed them instead. She made sure to donate some money to the DAR ladies, so they knew she cared, regardless. And she made her way back to Charlie’s house. She couldn’t call it her home, yet. It was so far from feeling that way.

As she approached the house, she saw something peculiar. A basket? It couldn’t be. As she inched closer, it certainly was a basket, and looking over at it, she gasped. She dropped to sit on the step, pouring over each item of sentiment. She hugged the blanket, and smiled at the voucher. The bagels made her homesick but so happy, and the chocolate was a nice touch. But she gingerly held the invitation in her hands, and felt a tear prick her eye. From the first night they met. Charlie wasn’t the sentimental sort, but he kept this all this time. She felt frozen to the spot. She wanted to find him and kiss him and hold him for the rest of time, just because of how much her heart grew, but here she was. Stuck, grinning like a maniac.

@charlie-byrd​

[charlie-byrd]

“Yeah, I ain’t cut out for the city. I walk too slow, talk too slow, and I’d beat the shit outta anyone comin’ for my wallet.” He shrugged. Hayes had barely even left the state, and had ventured out of the south once his whole life. In his mind, there wasn’t much reason to leave – everything he needed or wanted was right here. He chuckled. “Yeah, I know how that is. There was a time I didn’t think I would either. And they are a handful, no doubt about it.” But Hayes wouldn’t trade his girls for the world. He sighed dramatically, followed with a chuckle. “You don’t know the half of it. And then, you think you got it somewhat figured out with the first one, and the second one is just completely different and ya gotta figure out what she likes and what she responds to. Then you got two methods and it’s like alright, I can handle this third, and it’s like she’s completely different too. And I mean, you know how girls are anyway. But they are the sweetest things. You been in town long?”

“It’s been about a month. A big change but I’m liking it so far.” He laughed at his description of his daughters. “Man, I don’t envy you that. If I ever had a kid, which isn’t likely, I’d probably never sleep again. Too worried about fucking them up with my own baggage you know?” His mother had differing opinions on this and still held out the hope that he would make her a grandmother one day. “Much better to get a dog in my opinion. That way the only thing you could do wrong is overfeed them.”

[charlie-byrd]

“Thank you,” the blonde said, offering him an appreciative smile as she took a seat. Waving the bartender over, she was quick to order herself a bottle of beer. She wasn’t the type to prefer mixed drinks or anything strong. In response to his question, she simply shrugged her shoulders.“Let’s just say I had a blind date gone wrong. I was hesitant about it in the first place and should have went with my gut feeling.”

“Ah,” he scratched at the days growth of stubble on his chin. He couldn’t really relate, having never been on a blind date in his life, but he’d seen enough friends burned by that system. “I’m sorry. That seems to be the name of the name of the game here, though. The whole town is gearing up with these baskets to go on blind dates after all.”

[charlie-byrd]

There was a moment before Charlie’s head hit against the wall that Violet thought to shout out for him to duck down. But it was a moment she ultimately decided not to capitalize on, figuring she’d let nature run it’s course. “Smooth move, Charlie Boy,” she teased, applauding him lightly. “Remember all the times you bragged about being able to reach the top shelf in the library? This was that karma that’s been promised.

“Laugh it up Vi.” His hand ran over the developing welt on his forehead. It definitely wasn’t his smoothest or proudest moment, but he’d been in this situation enough times not to blow up over it. His eyes ran over violet as his hand dropped. “I didn’t hear you complaining about me grabbing those books for you when needed.”

[charlie-byrd]

It looked like it hurt, and Stella winced at the impact. She wasn’t short, and was usually sporting heels. But this man was unusually tall, and she wouldn’t know what she’d do if she were his height. “Well, maybe so. But ice would ease some o’the pain. So come on down.” She grinned, looking over at him as she walked. “My name’s Stella Blue Mavis. I was named after a Grateful Dead song! Who’re you?”

“True,” he conceded. He kept his steps short so as not to outpace the woman, resisting the urge to rub at the growing welt. It had taken him a good string of days, but he’d gotten the hang of the town and it’s layout. He smiled at the woman’s words though. “My mother loves that song. I’m Charlie Byrd. Middle name’s Marley after her favorite singer. First name’s after her favorite comic strip.”

[charlie-byrd]

“believe me, you’re not missing out.  from doing pottery for a while, it’s not really that romantic sounding.”  she scrunched up her nose as she thought about it.  sure, the movie had made it seem romantic, but it wasn’t really that awesome when you got down to the actuality of it.  she’d never been in that situation, but just from making pottery on her own–she didn’t want to.  “oh, that bad?  have ya hit someone with the darts or something?”  she asked with a little bit of a laugh.  “all it is is just tossin’ darts at the paint balloons.   most you could do is hit the board instead.  or someone standing beside you, depending on your aim.”

“Few things are as romantic as they seem,” he said, offhandedly. There was maybe a little bit of bitterness in his voice. One of the most romantic moments of his own life had crashed and burned recently in spectacular fashion. “Not anything that bad, no. Just got swept by my opponent. My piece would probably end up being one popped balloon and a ton of little holes in the board.”

[charlie-byrd]

“Well, hopefully by then the lil dent you got imprinted on your forehead here will be gone and all that’s left is some redness,” Dinah nodded, carefully inspecting the mark. “I reckon we’re gonna have to get some contractors in here to start extendin’ the height in the door frames ‘round here,” she joked with a smile. “How many times has that happened since you got here?”

“I won’t hold my breath on that,” he said. He’d been working with buildings in the area, helping in restoration and in developing some offices. Things ran smaller and quainter in the south. He’d simply have to get used to it. He shook his head at Dinah’s question. “Let’s just keep it at more than once for now. I’m not always the most observant guy around.”

[charlie-byrd]

The long rows of baskets were dizzying to see. He hadn’t planned on spending too much time around here but his curiosity got the better of him. “Better chances with the former, if you can pick one you like more than the other.” His hands snuck into his pockets. “This town really doesn’t do anything in half measures does it?”

@frostfordstart​

“Oh my god, there are so many baskets,” Liv said, holding all of her tickets in one hand. “What do ya think – should I put ‘em all in one, or put one in twenty different baskets?”

[charlie-byrd]

He was spending more time out of the house lately, and trying to convince himself it wasn’t simply because him and Harper were still on such unsteady ground. He’d worked out a deal with the bartender to turn one of the television’s to an ESPN station that covered all baseball games, including the New York teams. He was watching one currently with a beer sweating against it’s coaster when the woman walked up. “No, please.” He shifted slightly so that she had more space to sit. “Dare I ask?”

Where: The Watering Can

With: Open @frostfordstart​

This was the first and last time Lucy let her friend set her up on a blind date. She wasn’t all that surprised when it went terribly because she had the worst luck. And not to mention, it wasn’t like she even knew how this dating thing was supposed to work. She never put much effort towards it because she was used to being far too busy. This man had been completely wrong for her in every way and they simply had nothing in common, so she was quick to excuse herself and headed over to The Watering Can for a drink or two. “Is this seat taken?” The Englishwoman asked as she approached someone seated the bar countertop, gesturing towards the open stool. “I’m in desperate need of alcohol after the night I’ve had.” 

[charlie-byrd]

Text to: Charlie

Harper: We can talk about this in person if you'd like.

Harper: I'll put aside my anger for this, because this is bigger than me.

Harper: I'll even come outside of my room to talk about it.

Harper: That's tough, because I should hope every piece of your moral compass is shuddering with the thought of working in such a space.

Harper: But maybe you could take the space, and turn it into a place for good.

Harper: Give the space a rebirth.

Harper: Why don't you tell me, over that cup of coffee, what you're supposed to be doing with the house and I'll give you the best advice I can muster.

Harper: And then I can go back to mildly hating you and preparing for this interview.

Charlie: Thanks

Charlie: Can I say that I miss you? We live under the same roof. It's stupid but- [unsent]

Charlie: I'd rather get hate from you than kindness from anyone else. [unsent]

Charlie: You know you don't have to pay me back for this coffee.

Charlie: Ever.

[charlie-byrd]

maia! (if i sent this twice i apologize i literally cannot remember askjgf)

“A pint sized dreamer.” He shook his head, immediately regretting it as the room began to spin. “Like we all get it. Love lifts us up where we belong. It makes us act like we are fools. Throw -” he paused  “no wait that’s Moulin Rouge.” It took him a minute to compose his thoughts. “She’s very talented. Great writing, terrible subject.”

[charlie-byrd]

Babs!

“Does she have twenty pairs of roller blades? I think I’ve seen her once without them.” He shook his head. It was an intriguing possibility this deep into his beer. “She’s very small, but she’s got a lot in there. Very opinionated. Very confident. But very small. Like pocket sized.”

[charlie-byrd]

Text to: Charlie

Harper: I suppose..

Harper: Shoot.

Charlie: I've been asked to help restore a confederate era soldier's home

Charlie: I'm having a moment about it

Charlie: do you think I can turn it down?

[charlie-byrd]

Harper :) :) :)

"She's so pretty." He was so drunk by then that if you asked him to stand he wouldn't have been able to. "But that - that - that - that's not it. You know how you can see someone and be like 'wow! gorgeous!' I thought that when I saw her. But the most gorgeoust people are the dumbest. Harper," he hiccuped, "she's soooo intelligent. And so passionates. It just makes her prettier, ok? And I'm an idiot, ok? One day she's going to get tired of my dumbo ears and leave." His face fell. "God, I hope she doesn't end up with a Yankee fan."

[charlie-byrd]

Text to: Charlie

Harper: God, I can only hope so.

Harper: If all of those years spent watching over spoilt New York royalty doesn't get me a job here...

Harper: Hell hath no fury like a Harper Goldman scorned.

Harper: Though I suspect you know that all too well.

Charlie: You could scare the devil back into hell, Harp.

Charlie: Can I ask your opinion on something w/o you bring angry?

[charlie-byrd]

derek jeter

“Ok! Ok! He might be a decent baseball player. I will give him that!” He chugged the last of his beer. “But just look at that face! That’s an asshole if I’ve ever seen one. And a one year retirement tour? Disgusting. If you’re truly proud of the work you’ve done you don’t go rubbing it in other people’s faces. He should have retired years before he did. Everyone could tell he was on the decline. Couldn’t even hit the pitches that were being given to him for free.”