Charlie Alvers

by Laura Jean Giunta

“Come by and talk to me later.”

I never planned to. I had no reason to, really. He didn’t mean it, anyway; he was just a casual acquaintance-at best-who I happened to pass by on the street. He had no actual desire to see me again nor did he suspect that I would take him up on his offer. He simply made the meaningless statement because it was expected of him. But that’s what most conversation between casual acquaintances is like: just another way to waste time.

I actually wasted a lot of time that morning; I had spoken at least ten minutes to him before we said our good-byes and parted our separate ways. So it didn’t surprise me when I was late for the breakfast engagement I had with my friend, Clara. When I entered the diner, I could see her sitting at a booth, impatiently tapping her finger against the table, blatantly agitated by my truancy. She looked up as I approached and hastily began her interrogation:

“Where have you been?”

“Oh, I ran into Charlie,” I replied taking a seat opposite. She seemed surprised.

“Alvers?” I nodded. “Really?” I nodded again.

“Now, where’s our waiter-”

“Charlie Alvers?”

“Yes!” I finally exclaimed in frustration. “Why do you care so much?”

“It’s just that…well, I haven’t seen him around here since he moved to the other side of town,” she explained with sincerity. She then inquired, “Did he tell you what he was doing here?”

“No…” I slowly answered, finding myself as puzzled as she was. Like Clara, I hadn’t seen him in the neighborhood since he moved either and I pondered what he had been doing back in the first place. Unfortunately, I hadn’t bothered to ask.

“Well, what did he say to you?” she asked with vibrant curiosity, her intrigued eyes gleaming at me as she leaned forward in her seat. I merely gave her a shrug.

“I don’t know.” She frowned.

“You don’t know?” I shrugged once more.

“Things, I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention.” She now appeared angry at me, crossing her arms fervently and slouching back in her seat with a huff. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied. I raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing?”

“Well, you haven’t seen him in so long so I thought you would have at least-” She stopped herself short with a sigh then and then gazed up at me with desperate eyes. “You sure you don’t remember anything?” I shook my head.

“Not really. What does it matter, anyway? It was just Charlie Alvers.”

“Charlie Alvers?” a voice spoke up from beside us, obviously overhearing part of our conversation. We looked up to see a silver-haired waitress standing over us. “You two knew him?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered as Clara nodded. “We were old schoolmates.” She shook her head and let out a bittersweet sigh.

“That Charlie,” the waitress unexpectedly started to reminisce. “He used to stop by here every afternoon with that girlfriend of his-Sherry. That is, until he moved to the other side of town. I remember they’d always get an ice-cream soda with two straws…every afternoon...” She let out a light laugh. “Those two-I heard they had gotten engaged.” Her eyes fell into melancholy at this as she sighed once more. “It really is a shame.” Clara and I glanced at each other quizzically.

“What’s a shame?” Clara inquired. The waitress was alarmed.

“You haven’t heard?” We gave each other another look of perplexity and then stared back up at the waitress with baffled eyes. “Charlie Alvers was killed two weeks ago,” she told us then, “in a car crash. Terrible, really. Died instantly, they say.” My face dropped as regret quickly struck me and Clara’s eyes became fighting distraught.

“I-no, we didn’t,” was all I could manage to choke out in a low voice. Clara and I sat there for a silent moment, eyes fixed on each other, I stunned and Clara suddenly disappointed with me. However, after that long moment, the waitress had perked up.

“So you girls ready to order?” she asked us, lifting a small notebook and pen from her pocket.

“Yes,” I replied, though I hadn’t even glanced at my menu yet. Clara and I quickly ordered and ate our meals quietly, neither of us breathing the name “Charlie Alvers” to each other again.

I stood before the pearl white marble stone the next day, head bowed in silent prayer. “Here liesCharles Alvers…” the stone read, bathed in the morning sunlight.

“Come by and talk to me later.”

I never planned to, but I did.