Remnants of Burgundy Red

“Almost .. there …” Charlotte thought as she balanced on the tips of her toes, arms stretched above her head, carefully placing a box on the top shelf of her closet. Falling back onto the soles of her feet, Charlotte huffed and tucked a few loose strands of hair back behind her ear. 

“Alright,” Charlotte spoke aloud, “It’s time to take a break.”

Charlotte sat down cross legged on the floor and looked around her new room. She scrunched up her nose at the cream colored walls. Those would need to be painted over soon. The master bathroom would also need some renovations. Otherwise, she felt content with the surroundings she would soon feel she could refer to as home. It’s always a strange feeling, moving into a new space and starting over. Her husband, Nathan, had just gotten a new job in Colorado that would have been ridiculous to turn down. Feeling a desire to begin again, Charlotte agreed to the move and left behind a life in California she felt she would have no problem turning her back on. However, as unfamiliarity seeped out of the walls, Charlotte felt an uneasiness in her stomach. 

She laid down on her back and closed her eyes, attempting to ignore the lump in her throat. She thought of her mom and dad, the way she had only ever lived a couple minutes away from them her whole adult life. She thought of her grandparents who, in retrospect, she should have spent much more time with. A ping of guilt overcame her. Lastly, she thought of her friends. The guilt soon left and a wave of warmth engulfed her. She thought of the late nights filled with laughs that left her stomach sore and the safety she felt in her friends arms when she needed them the most. Leaving them behind had been the hardest part, but they promised to visit as soon as her and Nathan were settled. 

With a deep sigh, Charlotte rolled over onto her side, placing her arm under her head, and finally opened her eyes. She had positioned herself beside her bedframe and noticed another box that was hiding under her bed. Unable to remember placing it, Charlotte figured Nathan must have put it there, not knowing where she would have wanted it. Scribbled alongside the box was the word “memories” in her mother’s handwriting. She immediately smiled and pushed herself off the floor. Her mom was a sentimental soul and had been capturing Charlotte’s life since the day she was born. Already feeling nostalgic, she crawled over to the other side of the bed and slid the box from underneath the frame. The box had been slightly bent during the move, but maintained its shape without ruining the pictures inside of it. Charlotte had been hesitant on taking the box from her mom, not knowing what she would do with it, but her mom had insisted. 

“I just want you to have a piece of home with you when you move.” Charlotte’s mother had said as she handed it over. 

“These are pictures you took mom, I think you should keep them…” 

“No worries my dear, I’ve already picked out the ones I’m keeping for myself. Besides, I have several other albums overflowing with you and your sister.” She beamed as she and Charlotte had both looked over to the bookcase that was perfectly lined with different color spines of photo albums. 

Charlotte had finally agreed and was now staring down at the pile of small, developed pictures that contained remnants of her life. Ignoring the top portion of the pile, as these were all pictures that were fairly recent, she dug around and grabbed a handful from the bottom. Leaning back against the wall, the sun shone down through the window, causing a small glare across the laminated surface of the small cards. Charlotte tilted her head and smiled. Within these pictures were moments of her and her sister in the blown up kiddy pool in their backyard, moments of her and her cousins dressed up in silly costumes, getting ready to put on a performance for their families, and moments she had captured herself and completely forgotten about. 

Charlotte had been fascinated by cameras when she was younger. She adored the thought of being able to capture any little moment in time and getting to cherish it forever. She was always the kid to bring a camera with her to all the family events, to all her outings with friends, and to just have on hand when doing mundane tasks. This hobby was soon abandoned when she got older and realized that not all memories were worth remembering.

Charlotte held up one photo she remembered taking while she was staying at her grandparents house. She squinted, noticing burgundy red splotches covering the picture she had taken of herself. Turning the picture around she noticed that other pictures had become stuck onto one another. As she attempted to pry them apart without damaging them, she continued to note the sticky red substance that plastered these moments of time into one. Charlotte felt that uneasy feeling arise once again in her stomach, but this time it wasn’t due to homesickness. She had pushed this feeling deep down years ago with an intention of never revisiting it.

Charlotte took a closer look at the pictures she had separated from one another. She remembered that weekend. Her parents had dropped her off at her grandparents house while they went on vacation for a couple of days. She had felt nervous back then, even as a young child. She didn’t like being alone with her grandmother. Once having been dropped off, Charlotte became immediately distressed and anxious being separated from her parents. Residing in that house meant walking on eggshells, watching your every move as to not disturb or act as an inconvenience. Despite knowing this, younger Charlotte could not help but cry at the absence of her parents, but, also to her knowledge, this was unacceptable. As Charlotte had let out small whimpers, trying her best to quiet herself, she heard the clinking of glass bottles slamming down on the kitchen counter and the heavy footsteps of her grandmother. Wine glass in hand, ever so perfectly balanced as usual, her grandmother had loomed over her, yelling at her to stop crying and to get over it. Charlotte held her stuffed teddy bear closely that night in an attempt to console herself. 

It wasn’t until the next day when Charlotte felt like she could breathe again. Her grandmother was in a much better mood and had offered to take her to the store to develop the pictures that had filled yet another disposable camera. With teddy and some new beautiful creations sitting in her lap, Charlotte smiled, but still remained quiet during that car ride home. She eyed her grandmother, trying to read her and determine how to act. It wasn’t long after they got home that Charlotte could hear another bottle open, filling glass after glass. 

Although fearful, Charlotte still longed to connect with her grandmother, to feel an ounce of love in return. She gained the courage to walk out of the back room, arms filled with pictures, and made her way to the kitchen to show her what she captured. Her grandmother was seated at the kitchen table, with only a small overhead lamp on, smoking a cigarette. After watching her grandmother engage in several gulps and inhalations, Charlotte finally approached her and laid out her pictures on the table. Startled by Charlotte’s sudden appearance, her grandmother had jumped in her seat and knocked over the glass of wine, spilling the red liquid all over Charlotte’s work. 

“What the hell are you doing!? Look what you’ve done!” Grandmother’s voice still rang in Charlotte’s ears to this day. 

Charlotte had backed away, head lowered. “I’m sorry grandma … I wanted to show you my pictures.”

“Well that doesn’t matter now, look at this mess!” She stood up quickly, but swayed and grasped onto the table to stabilize herself. “Now I’m going to have to clean this up.” She huffed, red in the face. “Go back to your room and I’ll talk to you later.”

But Charlotte had been alone for the rest of that night. Her grandmother did not come to speak to her. She never did. 

Charlotte slowly returned to the present and as she did she noticed that she was crushing the pictures in her fist, her shoulders and jaw tense. She tossed the pictures to the side and held her head in her hands. She refused to cry and give that woman any more of her energy. Her grandmother had passed away a few years after those pictures were taken. She remembered the night that it happened. She was still, emotionless as the doctors explained that her grandmother’s liver had failed. She wasn’t surprised. Her father had acted as if he was fine after losing his mother, but his increased absence suggested otherwise. 

Returning her attention back to the box of photos, Charlotte picked up some that caught her attention. It was of her father’s house he had just moved into after her parent’s divorce. In an attempt to familiarize herself with her new half-time home, she had gone from room to room taking pictures. Charlotte’s stomach turned as she looked at the dark blue carpet of her old bedroom, the faded pink tile of the guest bathroom, the hospital white cabinets that lined the kitchen, and the dark, sunless room planted in the front of the house. She still had nightmares of this house. 

As Charlotte had gotten older, she became more observant of others and their actions. She also became painstakingly aware of the fine line between solitude and loneliness. When it was her father’s week, she would often wake up to an empty house only accompanied by her younger sister whom she was now expected to take care of. She would watch the sun travel across the sky, beaming light between trees, casting shadows that danced in the home throughout the day. It wasn’t until the sun had set and the house was now dark that her father would return, stumbling through the door, disregarding any parental obligations. Charlotte had quickly picked up that her father had a striking resemblance, both physically and characteristically, to his own mother. 

Charlotte now sat in her new room, pictures of her father’s house by her side, and stared directly at the wall in front of her. She had ignored these feelings for years knowing she would be paralyzed by their resurrection. Sure enough, she sat there, for what felt like hours, feeling nothing, then everything all at once. Charlotte held her legs closely to her chest as she sobbed, allowing herself to finally feel the pain that had buried itself so deeply. Part of her felt guilty for feeling this way. She was independent. She took care of herself. But another part of her felt jealous. Jealous that alcohol had completely replaced her in her family’s heart. 

Moments passed and Charlotte's breathing finally slowed. Through blurred eyes, she turned her head once more to the box of photos, only this time, she reached for the ones on top of the pile. She sorted through pictures from her wedding, her heart instantly beaming with love. She smiled at pictures of family and friends on the dance floor, the floral arrangements, and the altar. She held back a giggle at the picture of her spreading frosting from the cake on Nathan’s nose. Charlotte also found the pictures from her and Nathan’s honeymoon in Hawaii. They had stayed on the most beautiful resort with views of the ocean and wildlife for miles. She felt peace overcome her. 

Charlotte had almost placed the lid back on the box when a single picture caught her attention. Lifting it from the pile, Charlotte felt teary-eyed once more. It was a picture from the birth of her daughter, Elizabeth. Such a dainty little one she was, nestling perfectly in Charlotte’s chest. 

Just then, Charlotte heard the front door open downstairs, followed by her husband’s voice. 

“Come on, I think she’s upstairs.” 

Charlotte folded the picture of her daughter, placing it in her pocket, and slid the box back underneath the bed. She could hear soft footprints slowly climbing the stairs. 

“Mommy!” Elizabeth squealed and ran over to Charlotte. She was holding a bouquet of flowers, with both of her hands, nearly the size of her. 

“Me and Daddy picked these out for you when we were at the store!” Elizabeth handed them over and cuddled into Charlotte’s lap. 

Nathan looked at Charlotte and tilted his head, concern in his eyes. Charlotte realized that her eyes must still be red from crying and mouthed “I’ll tell you later,” with a slight smile. Nathan nodded his head and gave her a kiss on her forehead before sitting down in front of his wife and daughter. Charlotte looked down at Elizabeth who had made herself comfortable in her mother’s arms and who had begun talking about her shopping trip with her father. Charlotte once again felt a wave of love and comfort crash over her. She held Elizabeth closer knowing that she would do whatever she could so that Elizabeth would never experience what she had. Elizabeth would feel safe, would never feel alone, and most importantly, would be loved unconditionally.