Charlie raises an eyebrow. “Of course not. As you know, they can’t even afford the mortgage. But they’re family.”
“How many hours a day do you look after them?” Dario asks.
“My parents leave for work around six forty-five in the morning and get back around six in the evening, and my shifts at the liquor store start at seven, so…eleven hours?”
“That’s a full-time job, Charlie,” Dario says.
“A job I’m happy to do.” He is grateful for everything he has and everyone in his life. It’s wonderful that Dario wants to givehim more, but judging by the way his fellow contest winners and Dario’s brother acted, maybe more isn’t always better.
“Labor is labor even if it’s a labor of love,” Dario says. “Think of all you could accomplish if you had eleven hours more to yourself every day.” Dario gives a small smile. “You could finally apprentice for a tattoo artist. You said you’re the family dreamer. Why aren’t any of those dreams just for you, Charlie?”
Back in Charlie’s bedroom at home, there is a bookshelf full of completed sketchbooks. Each one shows Charlie’s growth, creativity and style as they have flourished over the years. He knows he has the artistic talent, but he doesn’t know if he can hack the rest. He doesn’t fully believe he deserves to find out.
“If you stayed here with me, we can find you an English-speaking tattoo artist to train under. We can get you the equipment and sanitation tools you need to practice here. The possibilities are endless.” Dario’s words push open several locked doors in Charlie’s mind that he never thought he’d be able to walk through.
“Let me talk to my parents about staying longer,” he says, queasy already over what they might say. He pats his pocket before he remembers yesterday. “Can I borrow your phone to call them?”
“Of course. My bedroom awaits you,” Dario says, gesturing toward the door. His face flushes. “I mean for making the call.”
“Right,” Charlie says, sporting a playful smirk as he goes. “I’m sure that’sexactlywhat you meant, Candy Man.”
TWENTY-ONE
CHARLIE
“Ihave some news,” Charlie says. His headphones are in. Angelo is curled up in his lap, looking like a well-packed snowball. On Dario’s phone screen, Charlie’s family questions him, confused about why he is calling from an unknown number. “Oh, I lost my phone in a well.” He laughs this time, the comedy of it hitting harder.
“That’s the news?” Grandma asks.
“No,” Charlie says.
“We can’t afford to help you get a new one,” Dad says, sounding concerned.
“I know. It’s all right. Dario is taking care of it.” Charlie wouldn’t be surprised if there was a new phone ready to unwrap when he got off this call.
“How will you pay him back?” Mom asks. “I can wire you a little something, if you need to get rolling.”
“That’s okay. He wouldn’t take the money if I offered,” Charlie says.
“There’s no such thing as a free phone, Charlie.” Dad sounds like a poorly rewritten economics textbook.
“Sure, but generosity is free, and Dario is really generous and caring,” Charlie says. “I can’t go a whole week in a foreign country without a phone.”
“A whole week? We thought you were coming home tomorrow,” Dad says.
Oops.Charlie jumped the gun and now his cheeks are aflame. “About that…”
“We started making you a welcome home banner!” says Grandpa.
“That’s really kind. You might just have to hang it up a little later. See, ’cause Dario invited me to stay one more week…here…with him…” Mom and Dad’s faces fall almost immediately. Grandma, however, looks more excited than when she sees the tree on Christmas morning.
“Charlie, that is wonderful! My, he must really be generous to extend all of your stays like that.”
“Not all. Just mine. Just me.” Charlie lets out a shaky yet excited breath. “Dario wants to marry me. I think you remember that this whole contest was a bid to find a spouse to help him head up Amorina.”
“That was serious?” Dad asks.
“Why wouldn’t it have been serious?” Charlie asks.
