This ability to trust himself is the most efficient weapon he’s ever had to fend off his anxiety.
The night he packs his suitcase for Kitzbühel, he tips his three lampshades and lets his music application play a queue of unknown songs.
***
The ski trip is a far cry from what Charles had envisioned. George stands them up to celebrate New Year’s Eve with his family, Phil’s girlfriend tags along and Spencer breaks his leg on the first morning.
Charles spends most of his days in Austria with Alex, who’s doing some soul-searching of his own. He no longer wants to be the surgeon he’s studying to become. He aspires to work for a charity that accompanies survivors of modern slavery. His parents wouldn’t oppose his wish, but he’s the one hesitating, feeling it’s his responsibility to rescue the reputation of his family name. And even though both vocations are honourable, they wouldn’t carry the same weight in terms of social status.
‘But it’s your life, Alex.’
‘Please don’t hashtag-yolo me.’
Charles smiles and knocks his skis together to sprinkle powder snow on the pine trees their chairlift is passing above.
‘I know it’s my life, but I owe so much to my parents. I should give back now that they’re going through a hard time. The slander isn’t slowing down. Last week, my mum was uninvited to a gala because the host didn’t want to be associated with baby traffickers.’
‘And performing heart surgeries will change the mentality of those morons?’
‘It might, if I perform someon babies.’
‘Sadly, I don’t think so. And we’re all privileged, but we have to draw a line between our families’ needs and our needs. And yes…’ Charles sneers before his friend does. ‘Hi, pot, meet kettle.’
‘I’m the most privileged, though.’
‘Did you compare our pocket money?’
‘No, but I look at Isa, who’s dealing with a Disney classic type of stepmother. Or Phil! So shell-shocked by that arsehole who used to wallop him, he’s now hellbent on proving he can be more successful than him. Or you. Fred’s passing and your parents’ behaviour. But me, I’ve always been shielded and supported, I’m blessed and—’
‘Exactly! This is why you should do it! Your upbringing moulded you into the perfect man for that job. Any clever idiot can learn how to fix coronary arteries. But you, you can make a true difference for those who’ve been abused, because you’re an empathic, big-hearted guy.’
‘Don’t make me blush.’ Alex nudges him with a touched smile. ‘I’m gonna sleep on it. Thanks.’
‘Anytime. And… I actually need your big-hearted guy’s perspective on something. But I won’t give you much detail.’
‘Intriguing.’
Charles nibbles his sun-protected lip, then clears his throat. ‘Let’s say someone, sort of a friend, stopped talking to you, without any proper explanation. So you’re mad. And hurt.’
‘Meaning I care?’
‘I guess. Well, you used to, for sure. And so… If they wanted to be worthy of you caring again, what would it take?’
‘Chocolate cake.’
‘They can’t bake.’
‘Then I’d want to understand what happened,’ Alex says, waving back at the kids on the chair in front of them.
‘Would you give them a chance to explain?’
‘Of course.’
‘And if their reasons were acceptable, would you let them back in? Or once your big heart is bruised, it’s over, and you stay away from people who can bruise it?’
‘Depends how much I care. Because past a certain threshold, self-preservation goes out of the window. I’m aware they’re bad for me, but they’re so good, I can’t resist.’
‘Are you thinking about cake?’
