Chapter 20: Miscommunication

We left Janine, Mick, and Steve hanging up streamers, balloons, the big welcome banner and such, and headed out to the airport in Charlotte's mom's car just before nine. Sheila insisted on remaining in the basement to finish as much editing as she could. We didn't argue with her, though we thought some socializing might do her some good. She locked herself in the control room with a plate of food and a couple can drinks.

Charlotte was quiet the whole way to the airport. She didn't say anything the entire drive, and I was concerned for her.

"It was nice of Janine and Mick to go to all that trouble for this girl they haven't even met yet, huh?" I said.

"Yeah," she said. She was usually very talkative but she was hardly saying anything now. When she did speak there was an edge to her voice.

"Well, it's a good thing you had a lot of orgasms today, or all this would be even-"

"Anthony, can you just please shut up for a while? I'm seriously stressed out here, and I don't want to hear babbling right now."

Babbling? What the hell? It was the first harsh thing I'd ever heard her say to me since I'd known her. I didn't reply. I just went cold, stewing in my thoughts.

We got to the airport and parked the car. Finally she spoke.

"Anthony, I'm so scared."

"Scared? You should be excited. Aren't you glad to meet her?"

"Of course I am! I just-"

We still had fifteen minutes before the flight landed.

"You just what?"

"I don't know. This is weird, you know? What if she hates me?"

"Why would she hate you?"

"Well for starters I've had a father for the past 16 years now, while she's had nothing. I'm rich, I'm popular, my mom's not dying."

"How are any of these things your fault?"

"It doesn't make any difference whether it's my fault or not. It just is. If she's not majorly cool she'll hate me. I just know it."

"If she's not majorly cool, why should you care if she hates you?"

"Because she's my sister!"

"Oh."

"This isn't like some school popularity thing. This is real life. This is family."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe she's thinking the exact same thing about you right now? Everyone's insecure about some things, especially young girls."

"I guess so."

"Just be cool to her, make her feel welcome. She'll come around, even if things do get off to a bumpy start."

She reached over and hugged me. Her breasts felt nice against my arm. Her hair smelled sweet. I felt lust stirring inside me a bit, but then a strange thought occurred to me.

Babbling? She thinks I babble.

The lust died as my ego for some reason turned away from the almost worshipful adoration she'd been showering on me the past few weeks, and decided to obsess over one little comment she'd made.

"We should get going," Charlotte said.

"We've still got ten minutes, Char. There's no hurry."

She got out of the car, without answering and slammed the door, walking away without me.

"What the fuck?" I said.

I got out of the car and followed her.

"Charlotte, wait up!"

She kept walking.

I caught up to her and grabbed her hand, falling in step beside her. She didn't talk and neither did I.

We headed into the terminal and found the gate where her flight was arriving on the "You are here" map. I wasn't used to airports having never actually flown anywhere my entire life, but Charlotte seemed to know her way around.

"It's this way," she said, yanking my arm. I followed her, apparently not walking fast enough because she eventually let go of my hand again and continued on ahead of me. This time I didn't bother trying to catch up. She didn't even care whether I was there with her or not. I just let her go, walking at my normal pace and stewing some more. The further she went from me, the more emotional distance I felt between us, and the more bitter I got.

"That's right, leave the little babbler in the dust. You don't need him."

Finally she disappeared into a throng of people and I just stopped. She was coming up on one of the defining moments of her young life, a turning point, and she didn't want me there with her. She was being an ice cold bitch in fact, a side of her I'd never seen, never even imagined — a side of her that made my guts burn with resentment.

I wandered over to a row of seats and sat down by myself. She knew where to find me, when she'd had her little life experience without me. I'd chauffeur her back to her house and maybe just go home and leave her to her sister and her mansion.

"Girl troubles?" a voice said. I looked over and saw some girl staring at me, her head lying on her arm draped over the back of the row of seats. She was dressed all in black. She had dark hair and dark eyes. She was looking at me without the slightest hint of a smile.

"A little, I guess." I turned away to see if Charlotte was coming back for me.

"I saw her take off on you like that," the girl said. "You guys fighting or something?"

"It feels like a fight. Not really though."

"I got in a fight with my boyfriend last night too. We broke up actually."

"Shitty," I said, still glancing over at the throng Charlotte had disappeared into. "What happened?"

I wasn't really interested, but it seemed rude not to say anything.

"All he cared about was getting into my pants, even after I told him I was leaving to another city. He was such an ass."

Still no sign of Charlotte.

"Yeah, guys can be dicks," I said, filling in the silence.

"You're a guy. Maybe you can explain to me why the only way guys seem to understand love is by shoving their penis in you and using you like a rag."

I looked over at her, raising an eyebrow at her bluntness. She wasn't looking at me. She was staring off out the window, looking sad.

"Not all guys are like that," I said. "And anyway, if that's the worst of your problems you're doing pretty good. Who knows, maybe someday you'll grow to like having a penis shoved in you now and then. It seems to be a popular activity, in spite of all its problems."

"There must be something girls like about it. It just seems stupid to me."

"I suppose it is in a way, but it's also beautiful, with the right person."

"Does your girlfriend think it's beautiful?"

"She adores it."

"Hmmm. Well she looks like the type."

"What type?"

"You know, kinda slutty, like she likes gettin' it all the time."

"Just because a woman likes getting it, doesn't make her slutty."

"Well she looks like she likes getting it, and to me that is kinda slutty."

"There's nothing wrong with looking sexy, especially when you are sexy."

"Sexy, yes. But not slutty."

This chick really had some nerve, but I was intrigued.

"What's the difference?"

"Sexy is like, when you're comfortable with who you are, and you don't care what people think. Slutty is when you're like flashing all your shit around for everyone, just for attention, 'cause you're insecure and shit. It's lame."

She did have a point, but she obviously didn't know much about Charlotte.

"You think my girlfriend's slutty and insecure?" I said with a chuckle.

"By the way she dresses, yeah. A confident person doesn't need to have her boobs hanging out and a skirt all the way up to her ass like that. A confident woman just knows she's hot."

"It's possible to be confident and dress slutty though, sometimes," I said.

"Says you. You're a guy. That ain't confidence. That's a girl who's a few nasty ego blows away from jumping in bed with the first guy who smiles at her."

She did have a point and normally I would agree with her, but this was Charlotte we were talking about. She doesn't jump in bed with any guy who smiles-

Well she does, but it's not like she needs to. She's got guys lining up, and most of all, she's got me.

"Is it possible, that some girls just like sex, and being sexy, even if other people, who don't even know them, might accuse them of being slutty?" I said.

"You can tell a lot about a person, just by looking at them," the girl said.

"What can you tell about me?"

"I get the idea you think maybe she's too good for you, or maybe you think she thinks she's too good for you."

"What makes you think that?" I asked, with another chuckle.

(Dammit! She was near dead on! I suddenly felt naked.)

"Just the way you let her take off on you, and didn't even bother to follow her. You just came and sat down here like she took your nuts with her."

Then the girl turned away and went back to staring out the window.

"Sorry," she said. "Just my opinion."

"What are you doing, sitting here all by yourself?" I asked her, kinda wishing she'd get lost and leave me to nurse my bruised ego.

(Babble, babble, babble!)

"Waiting for someone to pick me up. I've been here three hours now."

"My girlfriend's gone to meet someone. The flight was supposed to be here at 9:20."

"Her name's not Charlene, is it? Black hair, dark eyes, Sorta like me?"

"No. Charlotte. Blond hair, blue eyes, kinda slutty. Like what you saw."

"Dammit!" the girl said.

"She should have met her by now," I said. "What the hell's the hold up?"

"I was wondering that myself," the girl said, and then, "Hey, here comes your chick."

Charlotte was coming. The girl turned away and looked out the window, pretending she didn't know me. I watched Charlotte walk up, feeling pissed off and edgy.

"Anthony, I can't find her anywhere! It's like she wasn't even on the flight! What the hell is going on here?"

"Maybe she missed her plane or something. Did you ask the flight attendant?"

"I was going to, but then this old fling of mine showed up. Oh my god! I haven't seen him for -like- ever! We only slept with each other once, but we were really good friends."

The young girl cleared her throat. Smart ass. Charlotte didn't notice though, she was scanning up and down the terminal.

That's when I noticed that she actually did look kinda slutty. She was wearing a mini-skirt and a crop-top that had her tummy and cleavage showing to all the world. Her hair was down to her lower back and she had boots up to her knees. She looked stunningly hot, but suddenly, because the young girl had said it, a little slutty too. Men were looking her up and down as they walked by, leering at her like she was on sale or something. She didn't seem to notice the stares she was getting, from men and women. She was just intently scanning for any young girl that might be her sister.