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17kNovel > Two and Half Men - Reborn as Jake Harper > Chapter 49: Unwanted Houseguest

Chapter 49: Unwanted Houseguest

    <h4>Chapter 49 - Unwanted Houseguest</h4>


    "Now, if you will both please leave, I''d like to be alone," Evelyn said, with the same ir as someone announcing the end of a Broadway performance.


    "We understand," Charlie replied, already halfway out the door.


    "Charlie, wait! We can''t just leave her here," n protested.


    Charlie stopped, turned around slowly, and said tly, "Fine. Where do you want to leave her?"


    ———


    Cut to all four of us crammed into the car, heading to Charlie''s beach house. Evelyn sat next to me in the back.


    ———


    At Charlie''s house, she''d made her way to the balcony and hadn''t moved since.


    "How long is she going to sit out there?" Charlie asked, peeking through the blinds.


    "I don''t know," n said. "I''ve never seen her this depressed."


    "Somebody''s got to go out there and show her a little love and support," n added, looking around the room.


    I huffed and stood up. "Okay, you bunch of unfilial sons."


    Minutester, I came back inside, frustrated.


    "I got nothing," I dered. "I even used my puppy eyes," I added, mildly indignant.


    I slumped into the chair with a sigh. <i>I''m not good in this kind of situation. I never really know what to say.</i>


    n stood up, took a deep breath, and headed outside to the deck.


    From inside, we could see them talking—well, n talking, mostly. Evelyn barely moved, but she didn''t send him away, which already felt like progress.


    After a few minutes, n turned toward the sliding door and gave us an exaggerated thumbs-up and a wide smile.


    Charlie raised an eyebrow, then slowly returned the gesture with his own half-hearted thumbs-up with a smile


    I looked between them and said, "Uncle Charlie, you do know that''s Dad out there, right?"


    Charlie blinked, hesitated, and then turned back to peer out at the deck again.


    ———


    Cut to Uncle Charlie seated at the piano, wearing a mildly indignant expression, his fingers dancing over the keys with a surprisingly gentle touch. The living room lights were dimmed, casting a warm glow over the space.


    Evelyn was singing while gracefully descending the staircase, her voice theatrical and full of ir. When she reached the bottom, she gave Charlie a quick nce.


    "Pick it up, Charlie. We''re walking, not crawling."


    Charlie gave her an incredulous look, then rolled his eyes.


    Evelyn turned with dramatic ir and dered, "Are you ready, boots? Start walking."


    Charlie sighed and shifted into a rhythmic, upbeat tune. Evelyn began strutting and twirling through the room, dancing her way toward n and me as we sat frozen in our seats.


    When she finished her routine with a dramatic pose and a little wink, n and I broke into apuse.


    "One more time!" I called out.


    Charlie turned to look at me, clearly indignant.


    I just shrugged with a helpless expression, as if to say, "What can I do?"


    After a good while of dancing and singing, Evelyn finally ced a hand on her hip, slightly out of breath but still radiant.


    "Jake, Gramma is a little tired," she said, turning toward me with a dramatic flourish. "Why don''t you sing a song for us?"


    Charlie immediately perked up from the piano bench. "Yes, please. Let the musical prodigy take the spotlight."


    I stepped toward the piano a little cautiously. "What kind of music do you want, Gramma?"


    Evelyn ced a hand over her heart. "A sad one, Jake. That''s what I''m feeling."


    "Okay..." I responded


    I slid onto the piano bench, cracked my knuckles, and took a slow breath.


    The first few notes floated through the room, gentle and familiar, and I began to sing:


    (Let Her Go - Passenger)


    ?Well you only need the light when it''s burning low


    Only miss the sun when it starts to snow


    Only know you love her when you let her go


    Only know you''ve been high when you''re feeling low


    Only hate the road when you''re missing home


    Only know you love her when you let her go


    And you let her go?


    I began to y a little faster:


    ?Staring at the bottom of your ss


    Hoping one day you''ll make a dreamst


    But dreamse slow and they go so fast


    You see her when you close your eyes


    Maybe one day you''ll understand why


    Everything you touch surely dies?


    ?But you only need the light when it''s burning low


    Only miss the sun when it starts to snow


    Only know you love her when you let her go


    Only know you''ve been high when you''re feeling low


    Only hate the road when you''re missing home


    Only know you love her when you let her go?


    ?Staring at the ceiling in the dark


    Same old empty feeling in your heart


    ''Cause lovees slow and it goes so fast


    Well you see her when you fall asleep


    But never to touch and never to keep


    ''Cause you loved her too much and you dive too deep?


    As thest note faded into the room, I slowly lifted my fingers from the keys.


    There was a moment of silence—no pping, noments. Just the weight of the song lingering in the air.


    Evelyn looked at me with misty eyes, the wine ss forgotten in her hand.


    "...That''ll do, Jake," she said softly. "That''ll do."


    Charlie leaned slightly toward me and whispered, a little annoyed, "Hey, do you want Mom to stay here for months?"


    I just rolled my eyes.


    ———


    Later that night, the house had gone quiet. The ocean waves outside provided a steady hum in the background.


    Evelyn stood in deck, while Charlie was besides her


    "I want you to be happy and... I love you," Charlie said, his voice low and sincere.


    Evelyn sighed gently. "I guess I''ll go pack."


    "Why?" Charlie asked, confused.


    "I''m going home," she replied.


    "In the middle of the night?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.


    She turned "Charlie, you just said you loved me. You could only screw it up from here."


    Charlie looked at her, halfway indignant, halfway speechless.


    "She''s not wrong," I muttered from the doorway.


    Charlie turned and gave me a sharp re.


    "That''s not good peeping," he grumbled.


    "You should do it more often," I said seriously. "<i>We</i> should do it more often what you did."


    Then I added, a little softer but clear: "We still can fix this family."


    He looked at me—expression unreadable—and said nothing.


    <i>------


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