It had been like any other day, Charlie was in his office, zoning out in the ergonomic desk chair, too lazy to even pretend to work, when his phone started to ring. The name at the top was more than familiar, though seldom seen. Joshua Wellington's mother was a good woman, always smiling, often joking with their group whenever they all congregated in her kitchen after school. She never minded that they ate all the food or that he and Josh were loud and unruly. Her voice was different that day, strained, weak and Charlie felt like he was going to throw up when she told him. Somehow, someway, Josh was dead.
Life was short. Life was precious. Despite hearing both of those phrases from elders, grandparents and well-meaning assholes alike over the years, Charlie had never really grasped the reality of those words until death came for someone so young. This was different from his mother's death—she got sick, she wasn't old, but she had lived longer than just twenty-some years. Josh was healthy, the last time Charlie had seen the other man, he was talking about signing up for a marathon, all the while throwing back Bloody Mary's like he was invincible. He should have been invincible.
That was eleven days ago. In that time, a funeral, a cremation and a rather uncomfortable wake had commenced. Then there was a will, or what could only be described as such. A journal page wasn't exactly a binding legal document, but when it ended with a final wish for his ashes, for his friends to be there on the beach that they had all loved as kids. At first, Charlie didn't think that it was going to happen. Their group had fractured since graduation, splitting off in different directions as connections were lost and some bridges burned. Morgan, however, took it upon herself to give Josh what he wanted.
The car he drove was a company lease. The luxury vehicles were normally reserved for partners, bigshot lawyers who raked in money and clients, but Charlie was none of those things. On paper, it looked like he had everything together, life was going well from the outside, but he "worked" for his father's law firm and collected perks that should have gone to someone else; what a failure.
Sitting in the Lexus, Charlie breathed a sigh as he looked at the darkened windows of the beach house. A beat up car was already parked out front, and the knot of anxiety in his stomach said that his sister was inside. The siblings had been close at one point in time, after the death of their mother but before their father stepped in to become a wedge. Charlie knew that his job was the reason for their falling out, but turning down the job and a steady income was out of the question at the time. He wished that Morgan could understand that.
Ten minutes must have passed before Charlie finally got the nerve and will to get out of the car. He grabbed his leather bag from the backseat and slung it over his shoulder. The smell of salt hung in the air and the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore relaxed him slightly as he walked up the stairs. There was no sense in knocking, and Charlie didn't think twice about letting himself in.
"Hello?" he called, flipping on a light in the hallway. The interior of the house smelled fresh, and he noticed that many of the surfaces were free of dust. He wandered deeper into the space until he came to the living room, seeing Morgan's sleeping form on the couch. "Wake up and greet me," he propped, still her older brother at heart, "you're always asleep on the job."
If they were going to fight, they could do it in the morning. After that long drive, Charlie was just too damn tired.