However, someone else could help Charles with that. He knows an expert at shattering his improper aspirations.
So Charles laughs and wells up, as he imagines telling Milton, ‘I’d very much like to be groped by Loris Joseph Harry Robson,’ with the same naive enthusiasm he was filled with when he shared his wish to be a nomadic novelist or a piano tuner.
***
21:14 ELSYThe guy is so dull I’ll ditch him in 5. What are you up to?
21:16I’m about to turn in. Early meeting tomorrow and I’m knackered.
Charles sends his reply and reopens Instagram, nibbling his cheek where the flesh is now incised beyond scarring.
Loris uploaded a digital drawing in the afternoon. The very same day Charles went back on his firm resolution to stay away from his account. He still doesn’t believe in signs, but the coincidence feels like a dangerous one.
He remembers that he’s not special and how terrific Loris is doing, except the post gives a very different impression.
Loris drew another frame floating like a cork in a turbulent ocean. Not around a broken mirror reflecting a face, but around a drawing of himself ripping up a drawing. He captioned it‘Lost inspiration shouldn’t be wasted’. Aliahnation left two lines of heart emojis and pheebs.calls.dibs commented,‘Self-care = self-portrait’.
Charles shouldn’t read too much into any of it. He can’t grow convinced that he was special enough to hurt Loris, who’s now grieving their relationship. It would light up a noxious glimmer of hope.
Charles truly can’t afford to jump into this train of thought. He can’t, so naturally he’s riding it at full speed.
His thumb is shaking above the ‘like’ button, which Loris would perhaps read as ‘I’m stalking you, I miss you, you’re all that’s on my goddamn mind.’
Luckily, Elsy’s answer arrives, and when Charles touches the screen, it’s only to open it.
21:20 ELSYI’m all for this new-found passion for your job but I’ll soon storm Clifford’s office to reclaim my shares of Charles Ledwell because I invested in him before he was listed!
Clinging on to that safe and comical scene, Charles collects the apple he came to the kitchen for – but abandoned on the worktop upon discovering Loris’ post.
He will feel less of a liar if he’s actually in bed. Unfortunately, hewill need to come up with another lie before sleeping, to guarantee the success of the goal he’s set for the Christmas party thrown by Alex’s parents tomorrow. He has to prevent Elsy from dragging him into an empty room. When she did, a couple of days ago, Charles thought about Loris’ hands and lips a disturbing number of times. Disturbing and unfair, therefore sickening and—
Here’s a good excuse to escape foreplay. Being sick. Food poisoning. It shouldn’t be hard to simulate. Feeling queasy has become second nature.
‘Come in here for a minute, Charles.’
Charles freezes in the entrance hall, glancing at the door of Milton’s study. His parents must have recently developed a sixth sense allowing them to guess when he’s in the worst state of mind to face them.
He takes a small bite of the apple, to avoid chewing his cheek into compote, and zigzags between the black tiles.
Can he feign instant food poisoning from a bad fruit?
‘You’re working late.’
‘Come closer, you need to read this.’
Milton looks abnormally chirpy above the screen of his computer, so Charles greets the option that he’s not in trouble and walks around the desk to stand behind his father.
‘Italian or automatic English translation?’
‘English, please. It’s been a neuron-extinguishing day.’
Milton laughs and Charles pinches his wrist above the watch. No, he’s not having a bizarre dream. His father is in a great mood.
He switches tabs and displays an article titled‘Ustica’s art-collecting hermit succumbs to sickness.’
Charles jumps, lets go of the apple and barely catches it on the desk.
‘Sorry… Am I about to be psyched that… someone died?’
