Away with Words

By Linda Folsom

“Away With Words” takes the reader on a journey of discovery with fifteen year old Charlie. His dyslexia has made him cautious and insecure but this summer life has stepped in and forced him to deal with things he never expected to. He must learn to navigate new and old relationships, a new city and to open up to others, including his father who has not been in his life for many years. The experience leaves Charlie untethered and challenged but ultimately stronger and wiser.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Nov 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665727990

Linda Folsom

Linda Allan-Folsom worked on multiple TV shows and on classic films like Cagney & Lacey and Dynasty,“When Harry Met Sally”, “A Few Good Men” and “Boyz in the Hood” before joining Walt Disney Imagineering where she produced media for dozens of attractions, most recently “Soarin’ Around The World”. She was a mentor with WriteGirl for many years. “Away With Words” is her first book.

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Copyright © 2022 Linda Folsom.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

844-669-3957

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Images by Vincent Takas.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-2798-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3176-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-2799-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022914107

Archway Publishing rev. date: 10/13/2022

Contents

Chapter 1 The Tattoo

Chapter 2 The Reveal

Chapter 3 The Call

Chapter 4 Getting Identified

Chapter 5 Coping Mechanisms

Chapter 6 The Journey Begins

Chapter 7 Not My Son

Chapter 8 First Encounter

Chapter 9 The Roommate

Chapter 10 Welcome to the Crew

Chapter 11 What About Tyler?

Chapter 12 The Future of Theater

Chapter 13 Tyler’s Summer

Chapter 14 Talk To Your Son

Chapter 15 Searching For A Solution

Chapter 16 Egypt to the Rescue

Chapter 17 Anyone Can Act

Chapter 18 Any Idiot Can

Chapter 19 The Moment Of Truth

Chapter 20 A Chip Off The Old Block

Chapter 21 Enjoy The Moment

Chapter 22 With The Author

Chapter 23 Why Be Normal?

Chapter 24 Is He Or Isn’t He?

Chapter 25 The List

Chapter 26 No More Secrets

Chapter 27 The Audience Awaits

Chapter 28 Have You Met My Dad?

Chapter 29 A Farewell

Chapter 30 Second Chances

I couldn’t have written this without the support of my husband,

Stuart, who brings me endless joy or without the hope that my

daughter Alana and my adorable grandson Kitt will read it.

I also want to thank the many writing friends who

encouraged me throughout the process.

1

The Tattoo

Charlie leaned forward easing himself into the stiff vinyl covered chair. His chest rested against the cool surface, his head supported by a padded cushion which smelled of ink and sweat. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths to calm himself. His heart pounded worse than it had before any test as the high-pitch hum of the needle grew louder. He gritted his teeth as he felt the first sting as the needle pierced his skin. Grimacing, he glanced up at the smiling, blue-haired girl holding his hand and hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

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He was completely unprepared when Tyler wanted to hang out with him. She was a beautiful African American girl who he’d noticed around school but didn’t think he’d ever get to meet. She was in the smart classes, the ones he never got put into. He’d seen her in the hallway, sometimes with friends but more often alone. He thought about talking to her, but each time he had an opportunity, he chickened out. He told himself that she was out of his league, and put all hopes of her ever noticing him out of his mind. Until it happened.

Their unlikely meeting occurred at the school Spring Fling dance. His best friend, Dustin, talked him into going. Charlie knew Dustin only wanted him there so he wouldn’t have to stand around on his own all night. It’s true, misery loves company. Charlie was convinced he’d have a terrible time but said he’d go because his friend needed him.

When Charlie told his mom about the dance, she insisted that he get something nice to wear; he’d planned on wearing jeans and a T-shirt, like everyone else but, to humor his mom, he went to the Salvation Army store down the street where she’d promised him he’d be able to find something appropriate. Charlie was surprised when, after only a few minutes of looking through the racks, he found a cool vintage suit. It was gray with what the guy at the store said was a chalk stripe. The jacket was lined with a deep-burgundy satin. The suit fit him better than any jeans or jacket ever had. He never imagined owning anything like it.

He felt older, important wearing it and didn’t care that he would probably be the only one at the dance who wasn’t in jeans. Tyler told him later that it was the suit that made her notice him. She said it made her think that he wasn’t like all the other guys. It made him special. Charlie didn’t tell his mom about meeting Tyler or how much he liked the suit. He saw no point in encouraging her to stick her nose into his life.

It was great to hang with her at the dance, but when Tyler first started to talk to him at school, after the dance, he thought he was being pranked. He was polite to her but he couldn’t believe she really liked him, even though Dustin told him she did. Charlie saw himself honestly and didn’t know what she saw in him. He was an average-looking, too tall, scrawny white boy. His black shoulder-length hair was impossibly oily. He washed it every morning, with soap, not shampoo, figuring it would dry it out, but by midday it looked like he hadn’t washed it in a week.

A few weeks ago, one of the kids in his fourth period asked him if he’d gone for a swim during lunch. He started to answer him until he realized he was being insulted. He was pointing out that Charlie’s hair was so greasy, it looked wet! He wanted to climb under a rock. At least he was lucky that his skin was still clear. So far he’d avoided the acne that plagued a lot of the guys in his classes. He tried to buff up. He lifted weights—well, his mom’s weights, which were purple and pink—but they didn’t do anything. It was as if he had a slow leak. As much as he tried to pump them up, his muscles stayed flat.

He was starting to believe that Tyler might truly like him. They had been sort of a couple for a few months. He couldn’t help wondering why she’d chosen him, and expected her to end it any day. Maybe that’s why he’d gone along with the tattoo. That, at least, would be forever.

Her brother, Curtis, who owned the tattoo parlor, barely glanced at the forged parental permission slip. He just asked what they wanted and had Charlie sit down in the backward-facing seat that took up the center of the small parlor. Charlie let Tyler choose the design. She picked two intertwined koi fish, Japanese style, four inches long and nearly as wide. Charlie opted to have it on his back on his right scapula. He wasn’t totally comfortable with having a tattoo, so he figured it would be good to have it on his body where he would be able to hide it.

As her brother prepared, Tyler chatted on, explaining the significance of the koi. They were, she said, symbols of endurance, strength, luck, and love. Charlie wasn’t sure about the love part, but with her six-foot-two brother standing over him holding a needle, he didn’t think it was the best time to have that conversation.

Charlie had no clue what it was going to feel like. He hoped it would be a mild sensation, like the time when we was six and had tried out his dad’s electric razor. He’d felt a gentle buzzing vibration that vibrated all through his head. That had felt different, but not unpleasant. A tattoo, he quickly learned, was nothing like an electric razor.

As soon as Curtis started working, Charlie had to use all his will power not to cry out. He hadn’t expected there to be blood, but when he turned his head, he noticed that the cloth that Curtis dabbed on his back was getting redder and redder.

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Tyler held Charlie’s hand and continued to distract him by talking about what they would do this summer, about what grades she’d gotten, and what color she was going to dye her hair. I’m thinking purple but just on the tips, but Gabby did that last summer, and I don’t want her to think that I’m just copying her. So I thought maybe red, or I could let the blue grow out altogether and try for a braiding. What do you think?

Charlie tried to focus on and respond to what she was saying, but he couldn’t. He had to concentrate on what was happening to his back. He was relieved when she didn’t wait for an answer but continued to talk about how much fun they were going to have this summer.

Charlie recalled that earlier, Tyler had mentioned that she often helped out at her brother’s shop—holding the clients’ hands and talking to them while they were getting their tattoos, to comfort them.

Now Charlie understood the value of that service, but he wasn’t too crazy about her holding hands with a bunch of strange guys, who, odds had it, were older and did not have the nicest ideas about her—but again, not the time to have that discussion.

As Charlie suffered through his tattoo, Tyler’s mind wandered. She held Charlie’s hand, reciting by rote some of the same assurances she used with everyone else as well as whatever came into her mind. While she rambled on, her thoughts strayed to how she and Charlie had come to be there, in her brother’s parlor, at that moment.

She was surprised that Charlie had agreed to the tattoo. She was totally shocked that whatever you’d call their relationship had started at, of all things, a stupid school dance. She would forever feel grateful that her friends had dared her to go up and talk to the boy in the suit and that she’d taken a dare she would normally have ignored.

She had been pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, not like the other guys at school. She was glad that, after the dance, she’d made the effort to get to know him. It was hard for her to meet people. Though she appeared friendly and outgoing, inside she always felt a sense of aloneness.

Despite years of it being the case, she was still getting used to being the only black girl in the gifted classes. She was savvy enough to know that there were probably many other kids at the school, black and white, who were as smart, but no one had pushed the way her mom had for them to be tested and identified.

She was grateful her mom had made the effort, but she sometimes hated it too. When she was excluded by others or called stuck up, she wanted to be in regular classes, but she liked the work and the teachers in the accelerated classes. She liked being challenged.

Charlie stirred, squeezing her hand a little tighter, which brought her back to the present.

She looked at him and he smiled, being brave. She knew that it hurt, but each person feels pain differently, so she couldn’t know how much it hurt him.

When it was done, Charlie gingerly stood up. Curtis guided him to a full-length mirror on the wall and handed him a small round mirror so he could use it to look at the reflection of his shoulder.

It was hard to see the design; the skin was inflamed so the tattoo was somewhat blurred. Anyway, Charlie told himself, too late to change your mind now.

He handed the mirror back to Curtis and walked over to Tyler. My turn, she said, as she casually settled into the chair he’d vacated. He offered to hold her hand, but she smiled indulgently and declined.

Charlie positioned himself behind Curtis in order to watch as the design started to take form on her upper arm, where she’d requested.

Her brother drew freehand, no stencil or transfer. Tyler had promised Charlie that her brother was an artist, but until that moment he thought she was just bragging. Now, seeing him work, Charlie had to agree.

When Tyler’s tattoo, not her first Charlie learned, was done, and Charlie had gotten the instructions for taking care of his tattoo they thanked her brother and left the shop.

They decided to walk to Scoops, a local yogurt store famous, or perhaps infamous, for their unusual flavors like chocolate wasabi. It was an acquired taste that they both liked, in small doses.

Charlie tried not to show how much his shoulder still hurt, but Tyler could tell. She didn’t show any sign of being in pain from her tattoo.

Hey, don’t worry. She assured him, It’ll feel better soon. I have more padding on my arm, so it was easier for me, she casually explained. The more bone, the more pain.

Charlie filed away the obvious boner joke to tell Dustin. Thanks for the reassurance was all he said.

He walked Tyler home. They parted with a wave. He would have given her a hug if the pain from the tattoo hadn’t made him afraid to let her touch him or to touch her.

She offered to look up what movies were out so they could see something over the coming weekend. It’s a date, he smiled and left to catch the bus home.

Charlie was eager to get home before his mom. He was hoping she’d have to work late so he could hide out in his bedroom. He’d given up hope that it would heal quickly enough for him to remove the bandage and pretend that he hadn’t gotten a tattoo. He just wanted to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

When he got off the bus, he attempted to put his jacket on over his T-shirt to conceal the bulky evidence on his back, but it hurt too much. Also, Charlie was afraid he might dislodge the gauze, which Curtis had warned against.

There had been a lot of warnings and instructions. Charlie ran through them in his mind, recalling what Curtis had said.

Don’t take the bandage off for at least eight hours, he’d instructed. Then he handed Charlie a bag with three bottles in it: the first an anti-bacterial soap, the second a lotion, and the last a customized healing ointment which he called Tattoo Goo.

Put the Goo on it twice a day for the next three to four days, to avoid getting an infection, and wash gently with the soap. Once it’s mostly healed you should use just the lotion.

Charlie again wondered what he’d gotten himself into as he took the bag. Curtis wasn’t done. The post-op instructions continued. No showering for twenty-four hours. When you do shower, no rubbing, just pat it dry. And call me if you get any kind of reaction.

Once Curtis had finished with his litany of warnings and cautions, Tyler, sounding uncharacteristically giddy, had said, Next time you get a tattoo, it’ll be easier. You’ll see. Charlie had tuned out after next time, unable to imagine any circumstances under which there would be a next time.

2

The Reveal

As he approached the older apartment building, where he and his mom Nora lived, the first thing he noticed was the warm orange glow coming from their first floor kitchen window.

Their building was dwarfed by the others around it. Those had been built more recently, but their building, his mom insisted, was better than the newer ones. She explained that the style of their building was called Streamline Modern.

She pointed out all the ways in which the building resembled a ship, like the round windows and the curved lines of the walls. Those, she told him, were what identified it as a real architectural gem, not just an ordinary building.

Charlie’s favorite thing about their apartment was the window that wrapped around two walls in his bedroom and gave him great light to draw by. He didn’t really care about the hardwood floors and the raised ceilings.

As he stood outside the front door, ready to insert his key, he could hear his mom on the phone. His hopes that she wasn’t home, that the glow he’d seen coming from the kitchen window was because he’d left the light on when he left that morning, were dashed. He realized that his plan