Chapter 27 #2
Gritting his teeth, Charles nods with a smile, hoping to appear undaunted.
‘Here’s what is going to happen. First thing on Monday morning, you will call Paul Stourton to reiterate your intention to take the MBA and apologise for the confusion.
In the meantime, you will list everything you are aware you owe us for, and we will tell you exactly how to behave to repay us.
You will also identify the feelings that deluded you into believing you could blindside us.
I recommend not letting them overwhelm you ever again.
My leniency was limited to one strike. Do I make myself clear? ’
Charles’ smile spreads wider.
He took a risk when he gave Milton a choice. He handed him the power to break the tiny part of his heart that thought it was healthier to give this family a thread of a chance. The power to crush his spirit and confidence.
And Milton’s answer is an attempt at exactly that. But on top of proving ineffective, it comes as a relief, clearing Charles from any responsibility. Freeing him for good.
‘First thing Monday morning? Sorry, it won’t work out. I’ll be in bed with Loris. Sucking him off. One of the passions I mentioned.’
It takes three seconds for the comment to compute, but they seem to last longer.
It feels like his father is losing it in slow motion, like Charles would have time to duck.
But it’s just an impression, and when Milton throws back his arm to increase the strength of the upcoming blow, it’s already too late to dodge it.
Fortunately, Alice must have foreseen it. She screams a guttural ‘Don’t!’ and grabs Milton’s fist to push it down.
Charles exhales the breath he was holding and steps back towards the arch, where Loris’ shielding arm grasps him around the chest. He casts a look at Alice, who’s standing speechless and deathly pale, and glares at Milton.
‘Make peace with all of it. Because I won’t go to war with you. You’re not worth crashing into a tree for.’
His eardrums buzzing, he drags Loris along into the entrance hall but comes to a dead stop when his legs start throbbing. The floor is covered with black tiles. More than ever before.
Loris presses his shoulder. ‘Let’s get out of this place.’
‘Have you packed my bag?’
‘I stayed right here, Charles.’
‘Oh, you did… So you… Anyway, I— We need to go to my room, I have to grab Fred’s book. And my notes, and— If I never come back, you know, I have to—’
‘Okay,’ Loris whispers, massaging his neck. ‘Okay, then…’
Charles makes for the stairs, his head reeling in two different orbits.
What else does he need to get to safety, a long way away from the fireplace?
His collection of sheet music. His flash drives.
The cufflink box Elsy gifted him. It’s empty of cufflinks but holds memories of all their adventures.
And… what else? What if he remembers about an irreplaceable treasure once it’s too late?
Charles’ hands are shaking so much as they reach the landing, he wrings his fingers with a halting inhalation.
‘Maybe we should just go, you’re gonna—’
‘I’m fine. I’m trying to focus so I don’t forget anything. I really need to focus. I can’t forget anything important.’
‘You’re right. You focus on that. What key is it?’
‘The small one.’
Loris unlocks the door and turns on the lights. Charles rushes in, only to freeze again, struck by the ridiculous surface area of his bedroom and the amount of belongings in it.
‘What can I do? Charles?’
‘You can… There’s a suitcase in that wardrobe and… Clothes. Pack anything. I don’t care.’
But all the carefully curated items in his room? Would Charles care if he could stop shaking and focus?
It’s been his shelter for so long, the one place where he managed to breathe and regroup, but now he’s struggling to breathe because he can’t figure out what made him feel safe here.
The lampshades? Yes, the shadows on the ceiling helped, but he can’t take the lamps with him. There’s no space for them in the flat. There’s no need either, with the LED lights projecting glowing paint onto Loris’ back.
The silence he could soak in was salutary, when he was finally alone at the end of a tedious day, free to dream, hope and create. Except he no longer needs to be alone for silences to be soothing and inspiring, while Loris sketches his face on a sheet or vows on his skin.
Ultimately, whenever his inner voices shattered his dreams, hopes and ideas, Charles would find comfort in the certainty that his most efficient means of dissociating were all within easy reach.
But his inner voices have grown supportive since Milton’s access to Charland has been revoked. Charles hasn’t blanked in ages.
And the answer leaps out at him.
The contents of his room are threatened by a bully, but the only source of comfort he would risk breaking a bone for is the one that never belonged here.
‘I have you.’
Loris turns around, holding a stack of boxers. ‘Me?’
‘Yes. I have you. It’s enough.’
‘I like to think so. I’m less fancy than your furniture but easier to move around. And I’m low maintenance.’
Charles chuckles, which expels part of his anxiety and allows him to untwist his fingers.
‘Good… Alright.’
He grabs his tennis bag, left by his desk after a match against Phil a few nights ago.
Charles loves his rackets, as replaceable as they are.
He collects The Mind of Wonders, his folder of sheet music, two memory sticks, the cufflink box and three of his notebooks.
He also shoves the Rolex case at the bottom of the bag.
He will try to sell the watch once the monthly bank transfers stop.
‘You’re gonna have to repack at my place later, that’s way too many clothes for a hotel weekend. And I threw in some suits and shirts for work but without much care.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll keep using the family account at the dry cleaner. My parents won’t instantly come up with a righteous explanation as to why I’m persona non grata.’
‘So… you don’t think the three days you gave them can make a difference?’
‘Not after the last bomb I dropped, no. And that might be why I dropped it, because in hindsight, it was… It was stupid to— No. No, I’m not Ledwelling that. Can we just get out of here?’
‘I thought you’d never ask!’ Loris closes the suitcase. ‘But, for the record, nothing you did was stupid. And also, we’re gonna Ledwell what happened, together.’
‘But first, we make out near a cliff edge.’
‘First we make out… at a safe distance from a cliff edge.’
Charles smiles and ushers Loris into the hallway.
His heart protests when he glances at the Sofia room, but that’s one thing he’s certain his father won’t take his fury out on. Charles will see Her again, even if he has to wait years or to test numerous break-in plans from George and Hannah.
They climb down the stairs in silence, listening out for any sign of returning thunder.
Charles is staring at the closed door of Milton’s study and only notices Alice because Loris squeezes his waist to drive his attention to the right.
She’s standing under the arch to the lounge, her jaws so clenched, Charles fears for the crowns of her teeth.
She’s still pallid and turns greenish at the picture they form.
‘Just say what you have to say. But I’ll probably don’t give a—’
‘I won’t lose you, Charles.’ Alice clutches the fabric of her dress. ‘I can’t. I won’t.’
‘That’s up in the air. Because it’ll take more than keeping him from giving me a shiner. And you better learn to mask your desire to throw up in front of my boyfriend.’
She closes her eyes, and they step outside the house before she can retort.
Whatever her statement implied, Charles doesn’t care for empty promises. She will have to show him concretely what she’s willing to do for a chance to remain his mother, and he won’t expect her to try.
Alice has lost access to his heart, she won’t break it ever again.
‘I thought she always looked like she ate bad oysters,’ Loris says when they pass the gate. ‘But that’s an allergy to me?’
‘To you. And us. And our plans for… Hold on… You stayed in the entrance hall, so you heard everything?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Shit, sorry!’ Charles plants himself in front of Loris, his stomach somersaulting.
‘What I said about moving to Italy, I didn’t mean…
Well, yes, I meant it, it wasn’t just to drive them crazy.
I’m thinking about it, as… as a possibility I can look forward to.
But without assuming it’s a done deal! It’s half a year away.
As you said, anything can happen, so I’m not saying it will happen.
I simply enjoy thinking it could happen and… Why are you smiling?’
Loris lets go of the suitcase and slides his hands behind Charles’ neck. ‘Something else I thought you’d never ask.’
‘Really?’ Charles’ insides end their gym routine. ‘You didn’t ask me either.’
‘I couldn’t influence your choices and journey. Plus, I wanted to get there gradually. First, I was gonna ask you to be my plus-one at my cousin’s wedding.’
‘When?’
‘In two months. You know, in May, when I’m gonna leave the pub, the flat and… London.’
‘No, when were you going to invite me to the wedding?’
‘Sometime this weekend. By a cliff edge, as you seem to—’
‘Do that, then! Let’s pretend you didn’t kind of ask me. And let’s pretend I didn’t indirectly tell you I want to gatecrash your future. Let’s do that in Devon, so those nice moments don’t have this damn place as a background. Let’s forget it all!’
‘Can you give me a hint of an answer about the wedding?’
Charles attempts to look indecisive, but his bliss evidently spreads all over his face because Loris doesn’t hide his relief. He presses their lips together, then jumps and pulls away, apologising for this impulse. Charles holds him back by the scarf, hoping the entire street is watching.
The after-effects of the lounge altercation take advantage of Loris being out for the count that night. Charles sleeps terribly.
At 4am, he goes to the bathroom to record a long voice message for Elsy and George. To explain and relive what happened while it’s still hindering.
It soothes him to put it into words and to picture his friends puffed-up with pride. It also exhausts him. He drops off the moment his head hits the one corner of his pillow that Loris hasn’t claimed during his absence.
The alarm clock is painful, and their morning dynamic is drastically shifted, as Loris is a bundle of excited energy.
Charles runs on autopilot until they pick up the rental and, the second they set off, he crashes out again, one of Loris’ jumpers balled-up between his head and the window.
When he wakes up, he finds himself alone in the car parked by a viewpoint. Loris is sitting on the grass thirty feet away, his hair flying, his legs stretched towards a panoramic painting of blues and greys.
Charles drinks some lukewarm coffee from the thermos flask and slips on his makeshift pillow. He plods in Loris’ direction and slumps against him, yawning.
‘You’re too far from the edge.’
‘I’m worried about this wind. Safer to walk closer when we’re a fat meal heavier.’
‘Food. Good plan.’
Loris brushes Charles’ jawline with his knuckles. ‘You okay?’
‘I love you.’
‘Does it answer my question?’
‘Yes, because it answers most of mine.’
Loris lifts Charles’ chin and locks their lips together.
An army of children come hurtling around them, disrupting the tranquillity of the spot, but even their playful screams leave Charles’ absolute quietude unscathed.