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Charlie follows me in and shuts the door behind us, though I’m not sure why. It feels forbidden to do so, yet necessary, just like in high school, to give me peace of mind.
“I like it,” she says, walking across the room to the window and peeking out. “The gardens are pretty.” She lets the drapes slide through her fingers as she walks away to explore the entertainment center. “I think this room is larger than my entire apartment.”
I smile, not because it is a strange thought that a kid had a bedroom larger than an adult’s home, but more that I like having her in here around my stuff.
“You have a lot of movies,” she notes.
“I spent much of my teenage years holed up in here listening to music, watching movies, or playing video games.” I join her and slide one of the cabinet doors open to reveal five gaming consoles and at least three hundred games.
“Wow! My friends would’ve loved you in high school.” She works her way around the couch and to the bed. “A king-sized bed?” She laughs. “Guess I shouldn’t be so surprised, considering the house I’m standing in.” She sits on the bed, resting her back against the headboard, and crosses her ankles. “You were one spoiled kid, Charles. What happened?”
“Enough with the Charles bit. I hate that name.”
“But you like Charlie.” Not a question, but a keen observation on her part.
“Yes. It feels more me.”
“So what happened, rich kid? How did you turn out so levelheaded and unpretentious?”
“That’s a long and boring story.”
“Maybe to you, but I want to know more about the man who shares my couch every Saturday and frosts cupcakes and gets paid to write about what he sees in the world.”
I sit on the other side of the bed, mimicking her position, but then she does something unexpected. She scoots down the bed and rolls onto her stomach, kicking her expensive-shoe-clad feet into the air and propping her chin on her hands.
“Tell me everything,” she says. “I want to know who the real Charlie Adams is.”
She looks like a schoolgirl waiting for the latest gossip, yet with the way she’s dressed and seeing her on my bed, she’s a fantasy come to life. I love that she doesn’t care if her dress gets wrinkled or her hair mussed up. It’s exactly those things that draw me to her time and time again. It’s those things that made me want to leave this privileged life. No girl I knew growing up would risk their appearance to learn more about me.
“My life is not that interesting. Trust me on this. I was living one way, and after a few years . . .” I shrug, looking around this old room. “I don’t know. I just felt it was time to grow up. The partying, the people, the whole life I was living seemed pointless. There was no value in it. At the end of the day, I wasn’t anywhere closer to being who I wanted to be. I found myself drinking half a bottle of Gray Goose just to get into the mood to hang out with my friends or go out. I was sloppy and careless. But one day in college, everything seemed to click into place in my head.” I look back into her eyes. “You’ve heard all of this. Isn’t this boring?”
“Never. Tell me more.”
“Well, I realized I’m the only one who can make my life what I want it to be. I would never have to achieve more than a diploma to take over the family business one day. That was in the bag. I wouldn’t have to make an effort for that. It would be given to me.”
She sits up, sliding her legs to the side of her body. “Are you who you want to be now?”
I nod. “Yes. I’m happy with my decisions. A lot of the people from my past didn’t understand and didn’t respect my choices, so I left them behind. My parents cut me off until I came to my senses.”
She laughs. “And have you?”
“I came to my senses years ago, but they don’t see it that way. I haven’t seen a dime of their money in six years.”
“They’d rather you continue down that path and be unhappy rather than make a change for your well-being? Sounds destructive.” She takes a deep breath and exhales with a sigh. “Well, I, for one, am glad you are who you are now. I don’t think I would’ve liked Charles too much.” She punches my arm lightly. “But I like Charlie a lot.”
“Well, that makes it all worthwhile, then.” We hold eye contact, a silent longing exchanged before she breaks it by looking away.
As she slips off the bed, she straightens the skirt of her dress. “We should go back downstairs. This house is so large, I’m sure we’ve missed the dinner bell by now.”
