The Loss of Innocence

James “You're not my father!” Pushing herself backwards against the wall, Charlotte shrieks the words at him. Close to hysterical, almost frenzied with denial, utterly distraught, she screams, struggling against Michael when he tries to hold her, tries to calm her. The guard, Hartland looks increasingly alarmed. “You want me to...? “No, it's alright. We need to deal with this.” But he’s is already talking into his phone, satisfaction etched on his face as more guards burst in, bundling the passive Klempner out. He looks over his shoulder as they hustle him away, his expression shell-shocked. Charlotte is still fighting against Michael, refusing to be held. “Let’s get her out of here,” I say. “I’ll get her out. You get the car keys.” “We all need to sign out.” “Just take her out,” interrupts Hartland. “I’ll clear it at the counter.” As Michael heads for the reception, I have to drag Charlotte, resisting me all the way, to the car. Red-faced, wild-eyed and screaming, she fights me until at last, I grip her, swing her around and bring my hand across her face in a slap that, as Michael appears, I see him recoil against from yards away. “That’s enough, Charlotte. Get inside.” Gulping, she shudders into submission and without a word, gets in the back, turning to face away from me as I step in beside her. On the return home, Charlotte’s silence continues. She seems to be over the hysterics, but I almost preferred that to this non-response. I try to take her in my arms, but she stiffens, continuing her vigil out of the window. And when I lay a hand on her thigh, she doesn't quite shrug me off, but she shrinks away, rejecting my touch. Michael's eyes meet mine in the rear view, his brow furrowing. At home she goes to bed, closing curtains and shrugging away any attempt to talk. Michael joins her in the large bed we share, trying to lie close, but when I look in, she's lying at the far side of the bed, turned away from him. Her eyes blink shut as I enter but I saw she was lying awake, staring at nothing. Later, I join them, easing in beside her in my usual place. Charlotte rolls to the middle where she normally sleeps between me and Michael but when I try to touch her, she stiffens. Sleep escapes me for hours. When it finally claims me, brief and unsatisfying, I wake again to find Charlotte is gone. Alarmed, I prop myself up on an elbow, turn on the side-light, to realise Michael is also not there. I snatch up a robe, heading to find my grieving mermaid. At the door, I almost walk into Michael. He raises a finger to his lips. “She’s in the next room,” he says quietly, “but she’s sleeping at least.” *****