Sometimes there weren't words to explain a situation in a way another person would understand. It was one of those 'until you've walked a mile in someone else's shoes' things. Charlie was fine with people thinking he was crazy. He gave Mr. Porter an apologetic look before shrugging at the ME. What was he supposed to say? Obviously the man was still there with them. His body was there. He'd be tethered to it, where it was, until he crossed over. It seemed simple to understand to Charlie, but he could barely remember a time before the ambulance, before dying, before losing Sam, before seeing those who hadn't crossed over to their final destinations.
"Yeah, he's here. In the event someone doesn't cross over at their time of death? Their spirit remains tethered to their body until they do cross over. So if you ever feel lonely working here? Don't. There's usually a crowd in an ME office. Mr. Porter is very grateful for the information regarding his fertility. His wife blamed him for a long, long time. He actually died push-mowing the lawn since she said it would be good exercise for him to try to help him lose some weight. Heart problems. You probably knew that. Sorry."
He looked at the floor, trying to tune out all the noise around him. Charlie got ahead of himself when he was talking from time to time. It was rare for a living person to try to engage him in conversation. Most of the time, they wanted to pretend he wasn't there. No one wanted to get accused of associating with a crazy man and no one believed Charlie St. Cloud was anything other than crazy. Stark. Raving. Mad. That was the usual he heard emphasized about himself. He couldn't help what they thought. Charlie didn't want to try to convince them either. It was enough he could be there for Sam. With what he'd done to his brother? Charlie felt he deserved whatever ostracization came his way. Why he should he get more of a life when he'd taken his brother's before it had even gotten truly started?
Talking to the floor, Charlie muttered, "I'm not used to talking to most living people. Sorry. I know I sound crazy. It's a thing I'm used to now. I really was only coming in to check on what kind of grass Mr. Porter preferred. This is why the ME at home left me alone with the body. He didn't want to listen to me---being crazy."