Charlie's jaw dropped.
In all of the factory, he had never seen a room such as this. The ceiling seemed to be painted the color of the outside sky, and Charlie could've sworn he saw the clouds moving. The entire room seemed to be bathed in an iridescent blue light which came from strange lamps that hung, almost in mid-air, around the room. The bed, which was twice the size of Charlie's, was a wondrous piece of candy sculpture. It seemed to be made entirely out of different-colored peppermint, stretched and woven together into complicated knots that decorated the headboard. A thin lace curtain hung around it, swaying gently in a breeze that didn't exist. The floor was covered in the same swudge that carpeted the Chocolate room, with tiny white Vanilla flowers growing in patches. He couldn't tell where the walls stopped or started, or if there were walls at all. The whole thing seemed to be drawn straight from a fairy-tale.
Amused by his reaction, Mr. Wonka asked, "Do you like it?" Charlie looked at him in disbelief. Chuckling to himself, Mr. Wonka motioned for Charlie to enter before walking in and taking a seat in the velvet armchair near the bed. Charlie stopped. Had that armchair been there when he first saw the room? He shook his head and decided not to bother with it. Logic had no grip on anything in the factory, much less in such a sacred place as Mr. Wonka's private bedroom. He took a seat on the swudge, close to his mentor.
For a moment, there was total silence. Mr. Wonka's gaze seemed to rest anywhere but Charlie, and he shifted uneasily in his seat. It could've been hours, for all Charlie knew, before he broke the silence with a sigh. "So…", said Mr. Wonka as he leaned back in the velvet, "I suppose you're wondering why I brought you here." Charlie nodded. Mr. Wonka wrung his hands together nervously, and stood up. A strange mix of sadness, fear, and nervousness shadowed his face as he began to pace the floor. "A few days ago, I got a c-call…" His voice cracked ever so slightly. "It was from a doctor…now, now I haven't bothered with a doctor in years, so this was unexpected, but it wasn't for me, ABOUT me I mean, it was about my f---", here he stumbled on the word, and he hid his eyes (a sign that he was about to cry). Charlie got up and made to comfort him, but Mr. Wonka gave him a quick wave. "No, no, I'm fine. Don't fuss over me. " He chuckled weakly and continued. "Apparently, he's b-been sick…sick for a long time, and---and the doctor said that he…" He choked slightly, and Charlie saw something shimmer on the older man's face.
It was a tear.
Mr. Wonka flicked it away quickly. "He's dead, Charlie. M-My dad, he's gone. He died….", he flopped back into his chair, "D-Daddy….he's left me for good this time…" He rubbed his eye furiously, fist clenched tight. Mr. Wonka looked straight at Charlie, an expression of confusion and hurt on his face. "He said he'd never leave again! HE PROMISED!" Covering his eyes with his hands, the great chocolatier began crying like a child, falling to his knees on the floor and whimpering pitifully.