His voice wavers, but he completes the puzzle with Liv’s insight, explaining what led Fred to climb behind the wheel of an undrivable car while Charles’ main concern was to hideThe Mind of Wondersin his bedroom.
Loris remains silent, but his tension screams an outrage that Charles leans on to continue. He touches upon his latest encounters with Milton and relates the confrontation with Alice, which eroded his capacity to stomach it all.
It helps that Loris’ quiet reactions support the hatred Charles is experiencing in waves. He knows he’s entitled to despise his parents, and Liv, Elsy and George have confirmed that he is. But Loris’ heart is made of a softer fabric, sewed by a compassionate and reasoned mind. Feeling it thump in anger frees Charles from any bout of guilt lurking in the shadows of his brain.
‘I’m impressed that you’re not losing it.’
‘I am, but I’m finding myself at the same time, so it’s a… Not just through you, though. It’s my journey. You and I, we’re on a separate one. I’m not putting everything on us. I’m not counting on you to be… I’m not saying that— I’m aware it’s—’
‘Breathe. And turn off Charland.’
‘I’d be a different person if I were in charge of the switch.’
Loris starts massaging Charles’ temples with his thumbs. ‘Let it rest at least.’
‘Well, keep this up and I’ll crash out in two minutes.’
‘Good.’
‘It’s five.’
‘Who cares? It’s midnight in Manilla.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I used to be obsessed with time zones. I had a map pinned above my bed, and every night I asked my mum to quiz me. Now my brain is an international clock.’
‘This is the sexiest fact I’ve learnt about you.’
Loris smiles and forces Charles to lie down, leaning on his elbow to tower above him and resume his massage.
‘You’re not cold?’
‘I’m fine.’ Charles closes his eyes, running his fingertips along Loris’ bottom lip. ‘I’m alright…’
He’s not, but he will be.
A long bumpy road stretches ahead of him, but he’s finally standing tall in the middle of it.
Charles wakes up six minutes later. Or six years. He can’t tell. What’s his name? What country is he in? Is Mona Lisa really following the Girl with the Pearl Earring on Instagram?
The last question gets an answer as soon as he rubs the remaining snippets of his dream from his eyes. As for the place, it becomes concrete when Loris’ head pops up over the sofa backrest.
‘Welcome back.’
‘What day is it? And why does it smell like pizza?’
‘Monday, still. And I’m eating pizza.’
Charles sits up, his stomach chewing itself. ‘Tell me there’s some left. And not just sauce to lick off your face. Although I’d do it.’
‘Gross. Although I’d allow it. Yeah, two slices.’
Charles sways towards the sofa and plops down against Loris, who moves the plate away from his lap to prevent Charles’ elbow from landing in mozzarella.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like calling in sick tomorrow. I’ll need more than what’s left of the night to be ready to interact with a human being.’
