Charleston's Gospel

By C. A. Sauve

Charleston Shadbolt’s homelife, with his parents and two sisters, is dashed and sprinkled with chaotic seasonings by the harsh, overruling hands of his father and the scattered liquor bottles of his mother. As a student, a friend and a part of the youth that resides outside those four walls he calls home, he’s popular and moves smoothly though life, speaking with charm, thinking with cleverness, and is looked at as one to admire, who hasn’t a worry, or care. But when a near-fatal event takes place within his life, leaving him severely brain damaged, Charleston Shadbolt’s easygoing way changes, his father is forced to have a parental hand at his upbringing, and Charleston even notices the change in his friends. And the only one that can navigate these changes, that are both unfair and unexpected, is Charleston Shadbolt.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. A. Sauve
• Release date: Sep 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005385675

C. A. Sauve

C. A. Sauve lives in Sudbury, Ontario in his mother’s basement. He finds independence nearly unmanageable and lacks motivation for much, save for writing, which he does every day for hours. He’s never worked a regular job, nor could he ever imagine doing so. Writing is literally all he is capable of. He consistently works out—either at home or the gym—reads, plays videogames and of course, writes. Without writing, he’d have unproductivity as a pastime, a life that is just existence, so writing is truly all he has, it’s every part of him, it’s his life, whether he becomes a success or dies a struggling artist.

Book preview

Title and Copyright

Charleston’s Gospel

By C. A. Sauve

Copyright 2022 C. A. Sauve

Smashwords Edition

Forward

I never thought I’d write a memoir. In fact, I still don’t think I’ll ever write a memoir. But with that said, Charleston’s Gospel is the closest I will probably ever come to writing a memoir or autobiography. Now, it isn’t a complete surprise that it’s so much about my own life, for when I started out writing this book, I planned to use many real, personal events—including a car accident that resulted in brain damage—with maybe a ratio of 60 percent autobiographical and 40 percent fiction. However, that’s not the case here. It turned out to be about the complete opposite: 40 percent autobiographical and 60 percent just stuff I pulled out of my imagination, and yet, even if they were just creations of a creative mind, there was always a dab, maybe a dollop or even a smidgen of honesty in them, or at least in most of that 60 percent of fiction. Everything I write is with a knife to my wrist, while swimming in rivers of my blood, but this is and maybe forever will be the deepest river and the biggest knife. Charleston’s Gospel is as much of my heart and passion I will ever give. I hope you drink it slowly and savour it, even the parts that might be bitter.

Chapter 1

Charleston’s parents weren’t a very happy couple. They fought during most of their interactions, and even when they were conversing, every word had a buzz to it, like it teetered on the edge of busting out into an argument. Now and again, they would be overcome with a strange sense of togetherness, cease their arguing, unclench their fists and jaws, and smile, talking gently, or rather, as gently as they knew how. If anyone were to overhear them speaking during one of these moments, never having heard their usual dialogue of vitriol and insults, they would have believed that their calm conversing was the hurricane of contempt and not actually the eye of the storm.

Charleston’s parents, Faye and Patrick Shadbolt, never spoke about separating, even during those times of cooler heads when they spoke more rationally and more sensibly. They never spoke about seeing a marriage counsellor either; they just hid nothing, fixed nothing and left the house a bubble of tension, that could pop at any moment, with their children, Charleston and his two sisters, Tiany and Talisha.

Neither one of Charleston’s parents hung out with the same crowd. But to their separate friends, they seemed happy, they seemed lucky, and maybe that was because they told their friends exactly that, that their marriage was a blissful one.

Charleston’s bedroom was across the hall from his parent’s room. He heard all the bedtime fights, and with the thin walls, each word was crystal clear. While Tiany and Talisha shared a bedroom in the basement. Often the arguments involved their careers. Charleston’s father would complain about moving boxes and often assume that was why Faye didn’t respect him, because he wasn’t the truck driver he had been when they met. He had the notion that when he drove trucks, he was his own boss and being in charge made him more of a man. Charleston’s mother would often scream at Patrick, telling him that it’s his fault she was thirty-three years old, working as a cashier and making minimum wage, when she could have been a doctor.

Hey, don’t blame me, Patrick would say to Charleston’s mother. I didn’t make you quit.

Yes you did, Patrick, Faye would then reply. When you got me pregro, you made me quit.

You should have had an abortion then, Patrick pointed out.

She was silent for a moment, mulling over what he had just said. And then our Charleston wouldn’t be here.

And you’re blaming me! It was a statement.

Charleston lay on his bed, hearing these words be spoken night after night. Never accusing him, per se, but leaning towards an accusation with his name in it.

One night, he heard the argument growing strong, this time having to do with the trip to Charleston’s mother’s parent’s house. Charleston’s father didn’t want to go. He never wanted to go. Nor were her parents willing to welcome him happily in their house. Sure, they let him walk in with his wife and children, but their greeting was always coldish and resentful. Perhaps they too blamed him for their daughter wearing a nametag over a t-shirt instead of under a white lab coat, with a stethoscope dangling over it.

Tiany and Talisha were already sitting at the kitchen table when Charleston came out of his bedroom and walked down the hallway. He stood there for a moment, looking at them, because they were staring quietly at him. His mother wasn’t in the kitchen and who knew where their father was right now.

He went to the cupboard, opened it and took out a box of Captain Crunch cereal. He looked on the stove, each burner empty and then glanced over at his sisters. There were no dishes in front of them.

They were still looking at him.

Charleston turned back to the counter, putting Captain Crunch cereal into a bowl he retrieved from another cupboard and placed it on the table at his spot. He glanced once at Tiany and then over at Talisha. They said nothing and neither did he. They all knew what was up.

He took out the milk, poured it over the cereal and placed it back in the fridge. He went over to a drawer, took out a spoon, closed the drawer gently and sat at his spot.

He’s not coming, is he? Charleston said.

They shook their heads.

I’m glad, Charleston said.

I want Mom and Dad to be happy together, Talisha said.

Have they ever been? Charleston wondered.

Tiany shook her head. Not that I remember and I’m older than Talisha.

It’s better he’s not coming, Charleston said. Maybe for once, we’ll have a nice visit with grandma and grandpa.

Their mother came in from outside. She stopped at the doorway, looking to each of her children, resting her eyes on each of them individually. She rubbed her hands on her pants, slid her shoes off her feet and trotted over to the stove.

Will you still be hungry after that? she asked Charleston.

Probably, yeah, he said.

Good. I’ll make pancakes.

The girls squealed with joy and Charleston punched the air saying, alright!

Later that night, Charleston’s father came home from work. They were all seated in the small living room. Mom was sitting in her rocking chair, while the three kids were on the couch—Charleston on the left, Tiany on the right and Talisha in the middle. The summer Olympics were on TV.

That’s crap! Charleston’s father said. The whole damn thing is crap! Cycling? Which one of you cycles?

Me and Tiany ride bikes sometimes, Talisha said.

Give me a break, he said. Can’t wait until I got the house to myself and we don’t have to watch this crap on TV.

He paused, hung up his coat, but didn’t take off his shoes. He walked into the kitchen, without washing his hands after a full day of work, and grabbed the orange juice and poured it into a glass. After chugging the orange juice, he said, Looks like your getting low on your wine, Faye! Whatever will you do if that stuff runs out? Isn’t that what you live for? It’s the most important thing in the world to you?

That, for your information, is our children, Patrick, Charleston’s mother replied. I like to have a drink of wine every now and again, that’s all. So, sue me.

Charleston’s father didn’t drink.

So, now and again is every day, several times a day, eh, Faye?

Charleston’s mother said nothing, but sat rigid on her rocker, ceasing her rocking. She stared at the TV and pursed her lips.

Well, I’m sorry, he said. We all need to unwind, I suppose. I just had a hard day, and I took it out on you for no good goddam reason.

It’s okay, Patrick, Charleston’s mother said, her shoulders relaxing. It seemed like they were having one of their gentler, rational moments of togetherness, which always eased things.

Any jerks at the restaurant today? Charleston’s father asked.

She said, I didn’t go to work today. But if I did, I’m sure there would have been. She sighed and shook her head. There always is at least one.

Charleston glanced away from the television to his father. He could see the anger seething within his old man, his hand gripping the countertop, feigning a smile. Charleston knew that his father never liked being corrected, and having his wife point out that he had forgotten today was her day off, to him, was a correction.

Luckily, however, his father simply said, Yup. I think in every business, every job, there’s always at least one jerk.

They talked more and it remained gentle and reasonable. They had even laughed a few times, which made both Talisha and Tiany smile. Charleston, however, still felt the tightening wires all across the room and just prayed they didn’t snap.

Honey, Charleston’s mother said. You sure you don’t want to come with us to my parents. I’ll talk with them and tell them to treat you better, like, maybe give them an ultimatum—either they treat you like a son, or I don’t go visit them again.

Charleston held his breath, staring at the television. He waited to hear the response from his father.

Charleston’s father brought his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat. Nah! he said, to Charleston’s relief. They don’t want me there, and never will. Even if they treated me like a son, I’d know they were still pretending. Maybe next time I’ll go with you guys, but not this time. Not this time.

Chapter 2

Charleston spent the next day with Ronny. Ronny was a friend of Charleston’s, and they had been friends for only a year. Before that, Charleston lived somewhere else, having had friends there. Ronny looked up to Charleston, despite Charleston’s life, as tumultuous as it was, and he enjoyed being looked up to. Ronny was a couple years younger than Charleston, age meant very little to Charleston in that regard when it came to friends.

Ronny was sitting on one of the swings in his backyard, while Charleston stood on his wooden basketball court, lobbing baskets up into the net. The sky was overcast and quite chilly for a July afternoon. The streets Ronny and his family lived on was a short street, with a post office on it and a library a street over. Neither boy had ever been to the library. It wasn’t that they didn’t like reading, because of course they each loved to read, but they got all their books in digital form, only ever having read hardcopy books because the teacher told them too. Charleston—going into grade 4 come this fall—and Ronny—moving into grade 2—had over a month before either would be instructed by a teacher to read an actual book with paper, a front cover and a back, so the only pages they were reading now could be turned with a single tap of the thumb.

Day’s slow, Ronny said. I don’t know what it is but this summer’s been moving like a snail.

Really? Charleston asked. You think?

Totes, man, Ronny said. I mean, don’t you? It’s boring. I’m actually looking forward to school.

Charleston shrugged. I don’t know. It seems to be moving pretty quickly for me.

Ronny shook his head.

What’s the matter? Charleston asked.

It’s moving quickly for you cause you’re dating my sister, Ronny pointed out.

It was true, Charleston and Savannah have been spending a lot of time together. But Savannah enjoyed hanging out with her little brother too, so it wasn’t like when they spent time together, they ditched Ronny. Nevertheless, Ronny sounded resentful of that fact.

I guess you’re right, Charleston said. It’s not bothering you, is it?

Ronny shook his head. No. I guess not. You two are good together and all that. She really likes you. She … she really thinks you’re cool. Always talking about you.

She always talks about me? Charleston asked.

Yeah, well, she says you’re cooler than the guys her own age. You’re not so … immature and it’s like … how did she put it? … you’re wise or whatever.

Charleston laughed. She said I was wise? He brought his hand up and lifted his shades onto his spikey blond hair. Nobody’s ever said I was wise before.

Yeah, well, my sister’s weird, Ronny said.

Savannah? Weird? Well, sure she was a little strange, but only to her family. To her friends—other than Charleston—she hid all of her eccentricities. Well, she didn’t have many eccentricities, but she did have one and it was quite the quirk, an idiosyncrasy she certainly wouldn’t want getting to any of her friends who weren’t at the maturity level that she believed Charleston to be at. Would they have made fun of her? Possibly not to her face but perhaps behind her back. Unless this one bizarre quality of hers ruined her reputation, tarnished her popularity and sent all of her admirers and fawners spiraling down into a pit of teasing and name calling, where she stewed in the center, receiving their affronts without a defense mechanism.

She talked to a dead girl when nobody was around. That, Charleston supposed, gave Ronny merit to call his sister weird, because sure, that was indeed weird. Charleston hadn’t known about that little quirk of hers when he first met her, because after all, she didn’t just tell anyone this little tidbit of herself. He did know Nina. He didn’t know