‘As long as it takes,’ Aliah replies with a shrug.
Loris having the worst time.
‘For what?’
The flat turned into a harmful place.
‘Get drunk out of our minds and find the true meaning of life.’
Enzo all over Loris.
Charles shivers and stands up. ‘Personally, I’ll head off now.’
‘No!’
‘Why?’
‘Early start tomorrow.’
He can’t sort out the feelings roiling in his stomach, but his bubble has been infected beyond saving. Besides, if he gets drunk out of his mind, he won’t find any meaning. On the contrary.
He replies to Phoebe’s and Aliah’s disappointed pouts with an apologetic one. It’s reassuring that they seem to want to know him. They won’t criticise him the second he leaves the room. It’s important to be accepted by Loris’ chosen family.
‘You’re leaving?’
Charles locks eyes with Enzo for a couple of seconds, then pivots to face Loris. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, I need to get some sleep if I want to survive tomorrow.’
‘Don’t apologise for doing what’s best for you.’
Grateful, Charles pushes into Loris’ space as they make for the door. ‘Message me when you’re awake on Saturday. And tidy. That is, when your place is.’
‘Yeah, don’t expect me to look kempt. Dishevelled-Loris is the best Loris.’
‘I can’t compare, he’s the only one I’ve met. But I like seeing him.’
Loris smiles, the gap between his front teeth appearing for the first time tonight. He smiles, answer-providing, memory-inducing, heart-accelerating. Charles loops an arm around his shoulders and presses his nose against his jumper, not sure whether he wants to escape or record the vision.
‘You’re gonna be fine?’
‘Yes, don’t worry.’ Charles draws back and turns towards the table where the group is having a conversation that sounds artificial. ‘It wasnice meeting you.’
‘Take care, man.’
‘See you soon?’
‘Bring your friends!’
After another look at Enzo, whose lips are sealed in a straight line, Charles brushes Loris’ hand to reclaim ownership of its powers.
Once outside, he takes a deep breath, like a diver about to go back underwater, and sets off for his house, rewinding the past hour.
It’s never wise to overanalyse a situation, but it will stop him from imagining what’s happening in the North Haven now that he’s gone. It will also postpone the return of the Charles he can’t handle and the screws in his throat.
When he enters his bedroom, his brain has become a motorised solar system model. Question marks are revolving at full speed around a sun with fond blue eyes and a half-moon smile, similar to those he drew as a kid.
ELEVEN
‘Good morning to you too.’
