‘Alright. Where do you want to start? All I got so far is “Fuck, you live withSofia!”’
‘Because, fuck! You live withSofia! But… How close are you? Same floor? Same room? Same bed?’
‘Floor. I fell asleep near Her a few times, but that armchair is a back killer.’
‘You guys own aLand, but you can’t afford decent furniture for people who want to look at it?’
‘People don’t look atSofia. We have two rooms dedicated to pieces of art. Nobody enters the one upstairs, apart from a few VIP guests. So my parents split the art accordingly. On the ground floor, you’ll find big names or trendy artists, anything they can use to blow their own trumpet. As you can imagine, Pavel didn’t make the cut. He’s been relegated upstairs. Which is infuriating in theory, but I love that I can visitSofiain my underwear at all hours.’
‘You do?’
‘We’ve become very intimate.’
Charles smiles and dunks his lip into the coffee to check that it’s safe to drink it.
‘So, how do I get promoted to VIP guest? Should I massage your parents or… What? What did I say?’
The coffee is still scalding, and Charles splashed his nose when he jumped in reaction to the vision.
‘My mother would file a restraining order if you tried to touch her. Nothing personal. She’s not keen on human contact.’
‘Just you, then.’
‘No. I only get a kiss when she’s impressed by a pointless feat.’
‘I meant just you to massage.’
‘Oh. Yes. Don’t I look tense by the way?’
‘So far, so good.’
Charles is actually less relaxed than he was when Loris tortured him last time, but today’s discomfort is invisible. Tweaks in his stomach and waves shaking the surface of the bubble. Loris’ presence remains elating. It’s still a safe risk. But it feels like a greater one now.
‘Did your parents sendSofiaupstairs because She wouldn’t make a strong impression on their visitors? Or is it because they think She’s a second-class painting?’
‘No! My father worshipsSofia, like every Ledwell man before him. He sits in the room every morning for thirty minutes.’
Charles used to follow him, back when Milton’s proximity didn’t reduce his brain to a single petrified cell. His father requested silence while he reviewed his trial pleas, but Charles felt closer to him in the shared peace they found besideSofia. His only regret was that Fred no longer joined them. He was incapable of setting his alarm this early, when he only sneaked back into the house at dawn. Incapable of approaching Milton without challenging his authority.
‘Does he trustTheMind of Wonders?’
‘Who…?’
One morning, they crossed paths outside the art room. Fred reeked ofalcohol. His shirt was torn and his face bruised from a club fight. Milton lost it, Fred lost it, and Alice dragged Charles away from their violent argument.
‘Your father.’
‘Yes, I… I believe so…’ Charles coughs himself back into the quiet of the flat. ‘We’ve never discussed it.’
‘Okay… Does She still amaze you?’
‘What do you think?’
‘That we’re all guilty of getting used to perfection. When you’re in front ofSofia, you can’t feel what you’d feel if you sawKaunas. Like, do you still cry?’
‘Who says I ever did?’
‘Facing aLanddoesn’t turn you into a sobbing mess? Sounds fake, but okay.’
