Should I stay or should I go?

                                                                                             
Charlie was standing at the bottom of the stairs in the hallway of his house staring intently into his phone screen. He was still in his dressing gown and was irritably pacing about.
“Texted him again. Sends me one on Monday, bugger all since.” Charlie shouted to Carol who was still in bed. She could just about hear Charlie, she sat up and shouted,
“Perhaps he’s in the shower.” Adding in sotto voce “Or having a wank.”
“What was that last bit?” Charlie shouted.
“Perhaps he’s gone to the bank.” Carol stifled a giggle and pulled the duvet up to her mouth.
“At the weekend?  The bottle bank or having a Barclays.” Charlie shouted back.
Carol really didn’t want to get up so early on a Saturday.  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached out for a pair of knickers that were on the floor. She pulled them on and walked over to the bedroom door and took a dressing gown from the hook. Wrapping the gown around herself she looked into the mirror on the wardrobe. She cupped her breasts and pushed them together to show her cleavage, looked at her reflection and smiled. Putting her hands on her hips she shrugged, walked out of the bedroom and went down a few stairs.
Charlie was staring into his phone. Carol stopped halfway down the stairs.
“Bottle bank? Is that new rhyming Charlie?”
Charlie just briefly looked up and didn’t answer. Carol walked down and went into the kitchen. Charlie followed her; he was still intently looking at his phone. She filled the kettle from the tap.  Charlie reached around Carol and jerked open the cupboard door in front of her face, just missing her. Carol flinched and pulled her head back. He grabbed a jar of instant coffee and let the door shut itself. Carol put her hands flat on the worktop and stared blankly at the closed cupboard door in front of her and looked at her reflection in the white high gloss laminate.
Charlie took two cups from the mug tree. The cups were hung on it now because all the mugs had been broken when Carol had thrown them at Charlie last Saturday after a row.
“He texted me! He bloody well texted me.”  Charlie said as he spooned coffee into the cups. He looked into the sugar bowl and shook it; the sugar had solidified into lumps. Charlie idly poked at the lumps with his spoon lost in his thoughts, then he said,
“If you can be bothered, he said. Bollocks to the burial then. His ashes can go fuck themselves.”
Carol swung around and faced Charlie and put her hand on his arm.
“Seriously, did you have any intention of going up to London to see the old shit off. Seriously. Did you?”
Charlie slowly stirred the coffee in the cups. He stared blankly into space. Then said,
“Sadly, I missed watching him go to hell in the furnace.”
Charlie dropped the teaspoon onto the worktop. He swallowed down and made a fist then wiped a tear from his cheek.
“Don’t let your brother make you feel guilty. That shit gave you ten minutes notice that your Mum was dying. He’s playing games again Charlie.”
“Yeah, you’re right. He can’t actually talk to me, just effing texts me.”
“That’s what he’s done since all this kicked off. Text, not a single bloody word. You’d think he’d pick up the….” She trailed off and looked at Charlie, he was looking into his phone again.
Charlie poured some water into the cups, then slipped a saucer under each one. He picked up one, put the teaspoon on the saucer and walked into the dining area and sat at the table. Carol looked at the cup sitting alone on the worktop,
“Just like me.” she muttered.
Charlie stirred his coffee and let the spoon drop with a clatter into the saucer.
“He texted ME for fuck’s sake.” he suddenly said.  Carol walked into the dining area and sat at the table opposite Charlie. She looked down at her cup and spoke to the table first, then gradually lifted her head to talk to Charlie,
“He gave you a day’s notice for the cremation Charlie, one sodding day. He knows where we live; Plymouth, not London. He knew you probably couldn’t make it. He knows you work. He’s a conniving, spiteful, little sod.”
Carol sipped at her coffee and looked intently at Charlie. He nodded and took a mouthful of coffee and swilled it around his mouth. He fiddled with his dressing gown and pulled the material away from his armpits, the gown was soaked with his sweat, he flapped it and untied the sash cord to let some air get to his skin. Carol watched him, then asked,
“When are you back at the hospital?”
“Two months’ time. They gave me some under arm crap they’re trying out. It’s bloody useless.”
Carol nodded and looked out of the window at the patio. A sparrow was stridently pecking at the bread she’d put out after last night’s dinner. She picked up her phone and took a picture of the bird. Charlie leaned forward, looked at the sparrow and then back at Carol and shook his head. Carol looked out of the window and watched it fly off with a bit of the bread in its beak and said,
“You mustn’t let Martin get to you. If you don’t want to go, don’t.”
Charlie looked at her and then back at his phone.
Carol looked at her cup and noticed a hairline crack running down the side of it. Charlie looked down at his phone and flicked through the screens and back to the home screen.
“C’mon Martin, bloody well text me. Even if it is a sod off” Charlie was staring at his ‘phone willing it to ring; ‘La Vida Loca’ played and a text message came up,
“IF U Can B Rsed 2 cum 4:30 this monday chingford mount crem mums grave. don’t bring her.”
Charlie turned the phone towards Carol so she could read the text. Carol opened her mouth with incredulity.
“What the? Don’t bring her!” she said angrily.
“That’s this coming Monday. He can sod off. He knows it will be a struggle. Hotels? Huh!  He won’t let me stay with him. The tosser.” Charlie looked at the text again as if checking what he’d read was right.
“Fuck him. It’s like he owns Dad. He has to be in control and jerk me around. Five minutes notice when he was dying and now this. And what with Mum before.”
Carol put her hand on Charlie’s arm and squeezed it. Charlie put his hand over hers and looked at the wall as a tear ran down his cheek.
“I’ll let the old shit go into the ground with his only loving son in attendance.”
Charlie looked out of the window at a sparrow pecking at a piece of bread. He took a mouthful of coffee. Carol noticed he hadn’t swilled the coffee around his mouth, she knew that meant Charlie had made a decision. He picked up his ‘phone. His thumbs flew around the screen.  He looked intently at the display and scrolled up then down, then he started to type something in and swore. He looked at the screen.
“It’s all fucking encrypted you wanker.”
“What is?” Carol asked.
“All my details. My stuff.” Charlie looked back into the screen.
“That’s a good little website. One six, one seven.”
“That’s the numbers on our credit card isn’t it?” Carol looked at Charlie.
Charlie didn’t answer and kept typing into his phone.
“I’m going up to London. Got a room.” he intoned.
“Oh, don’t involve me. Don’t bring ‘er. I thought you weren’t going.”  Carol stopped talking, stood up and pulled at her dressing gown to cover herself and folded her arms.
Spike the cat was looking through the closed patio doors mewing to come in. Carol opened the patio doors.
“Come on Spike, Daddy is buggering off to bury some old tosser he hates. Don’t bring her, his lovely brother said. Well he ain’t bringing her now.”
Carol picked up Spike and gave him a cuddle and kissed his head. Spike struggled and pushed his paws into Carol’s chest to get away. He thumped to the ground and stood by his food bowl.
Charlie got up and ran upstairs, after a while he came down with a small suitcase, he put it down by the front door. He hesitated and fiddled with the car keys on the hall table, then turning towards the kitchen he stopped, ran back upstairs and picked up the can of prescription under-arm spray the hospital had given him.
Carol heard the click of the latch as the front door opened. The door clunked shut and she heard Charlie’s car pulling off the driveway.