TWENTY-TWO

Dressed like that, one with the formal Welton uniform he'd had no time nor will to take off, and the other with the nightgown she was already wearing and a white silk housecoat just thrown on, they looked like odd newlyweds. She didn't know how long they had walked in utter silence, hand in hand, surrounded by the sleeping streets. The town had turned into the countryside, and then into woods, until they had wound up in the cave, barely able to look at each other in the faint moonlight coming from the entrance. It was pretty cold, but they hadn't lit a fire. As some days before, they were snuggled under a plaid blanket. The only difference was that she was embracing him, trying to warm him up. She wasn't sure her body heat and the blanket were enough for his shivering soul and his scattered thoughts.

Eyes closed, listening to her regular heartbeat with a cheek resting on her chest, his jacket and tie discarded somewhere on the bottom of the cave along with their shoes, Charlie was half-lain on a side, since it was impossible for him to sit properly. He hadn't been able to straddle a bike, so he had shakily walked the whole way, one painful step after another, until he had reached out to the only person he had longed for as soon as he had woken up on the floor in the same position he had fallen asleep. And not by chance. It seemed like her arms were the best eraser for all the rubbish in his life.

The first hour flew by in silence, but her hand never stopped caressing his head. She didn't even know if he had faded out, but went on restlessly. Something told her he was wide awake.

"I faked a phone call from God to Nolan in the middle of the assembly convened for the paper, asking for girls at Welton" he spewed out all of a sudden. Pointless to tell her about the detention, since he would find a way to meet her anyway. She also must have noticed his stiff stride, so it wasn't necessary to tell her what kind of punishment he had got. She didn't have to know he had been spanked like a little rascal. She didn't have to know he was a walking failure.

"I know it's been cocky. I know it's been stupid. I didn't want them to hunt the others down. And I hoped they would kick me out, but they just kicked me. I can't see how you can still go with such a pathetic zero who is not even able to pull a proper stunt."

October heard him out and sighed. Her hand never faltered.

"Do I really have to tell you that you're the furthest thing from a zero?"

Charlie didn't answer. More minutes passed by before she spoke again.

"Why do you want to get expelled?" she quietly asked.

Charlie clenched his jaw. How couldn't she understand?

"Because that school is crap. It's a prison, a torture chamber. While the four Welton pillars are tradition, honor, discipline and excellence for them, they're travesty, horror, decadence and excrement for us and, joking aside, we mean that. It's a lab, and we're guinea pigs." He took a break before continuing, as if to collect his thoughts. "We're human beings, for fuck's sake, we have feelings, we have brains, we have identities and personalities, they just want us to fall into line and shut up because we're dangerous. Because we can think for ourselves. We are able to make the system sway and crumble, change things, and shake it all up! We can start a revolution, and they shit themselves at the very thought! Bloody hell, it's like living in the Middle Ages, it's the same old story over and over again, how come things never change?!"

He had lifted from his position during his speech, engrossed in his ardor, to kneel in front of her with feverish eyes, red cheeks and a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. October was filled with sweet and fierce pride, but she couldn't focus on that at the moment. He needed to understand. To funnel his ideas into a better result. He couldn't persist in reasoning like a man and acting like a child, if he truly wanted to achieve an outcome. She looked him dead in the eye.

"Your argument is flawless, Darlie, but getting expelled it's not a revolution. It's not bold and it won't change things. Sure, there's a time for daring and there's a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for. Revolutions are long and hard and must be carried on by the whole community. I'm not saying you alone cannot do anything, you can, but not in this way. Getting expelled will just affect yourself, not the system. I understand you want to be free, but if your second purpose is to change things, this is not the way. Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone. And, all in all, do you really think that expulsion will set you free? You're just going to miss some golden opportunities."

Charlie cast a hard glance at her. She was thoroughly right but that was not what he wanted to hear. He needed her to side with him.

"Yeah? Like what? A stupid diploma to frame and slam on my studio wall when I am a banker?" He paused to scoff. "Yeah, can you believe that? My fucking father wants me to become a bloody banker just like him. That jerk doesn't even know who I am, I don't give a damn about that, nor him, nor bloody money! I don't like it and I don't want to have my whole fucking life completely ruined because he is unable to understand I'm not him, I have different passions, I have a different mind, and he just can't see that! Is it that hard to accept that a son is not an appendix of your own failures? Is it that hard to understand that you can be proud of a lot of different things from the ones you had planned, or just be proud for the mere fact you have a fucking son and he's alive and healthy and able to reason out and have feelings, and all he wants is a bloody hug from his dad or him to say out loud I'm proud of you, in order not to live a whole fucking life feeling constantly inferior and in search of approval from anyone? And why the hell do they even have to plan another person's life in the first place? Are we toys? Why should the world want an army of empty shells all alike and subjugated to the system? What are we supposed to do? None of us can do what we want. What are our options? Obey, run away, become food for worms. I don't wanna do any of those. I want to be free, I want to stay, I want to live!"

Charlie yelled the last words, breathing heavily. The girl in front of him had a broken expression limned on her face.

"I know, Darlie, I know. Please, calm down."

October felt torn apart from his heartfelt speech. She would take his heart out of his chest to cuddle it, if possible. He had finally blurted it out. Sure, the freedom, the system, they were all valid points. But deep inside, under all of those layers, there was just a baby boy longing for his father's affection. Paradoxically, it was even more hurtful that he was so aware of the crux of the matter. Given the chance, she would stand by him until the end of the world just to show him he was worthy, but probably it wouldn't be enough to make up for his father's fault.

She leaned in and cupped his face in her hands. He was so twisted and so beautiful in his sorrow. She locked eyes with him, both pairs bright with passion.

"Listen to me. Things will change, I promise. You have to believe that. Do you trust me?"

Charlie's irides darted back and forth from each of hers to the other in angst. He took some deep breaths and nodded, slowly simmering down, drinking her soothing words.

"The golden opportunities are not related to a stupid diploma. School is not only a pain in the ass and a bunch of grades. It's a way to have an open mind. You already have it, and it's wonderful, but finishing school will open up any gateway to you, then you'll have a suitable age and a good knowledge to do whatever you want, and that's the freedom you're yearning for. You'll go to college and meet a lot of new friends and amazing people, and they'll enrich you. You'll meet the woman of your life and be a great husband and father, and you'll teach your children a new way of life, and things will slowly change, for you and around you. The world will never be a perfect place, but things will get better. It's pure history, and history is cyclical, and nothing in the whole universe ever stays the same. Please, trust me. And don't feel trapped. There's always a way to change your perspective and be happy. Maybe one day your father will see the wonderful son he generated, maybe not, but this is not the point, because even if he doesn't understand, you'll deal with that sooner or later. The point is that you're worthy. You're passionate and loyal. You're smart and funny. You're the best friend imaginable and a caring lover. You have nothing less than any other person. You're amazing, and I'm so proud to know you, and flattered you picked me. So don't you even dare think you're inadequate, got me? It's not your father who must accept you. You must accept yourself. His behavior convinced you that you're not worthy, and this is the only cage you're trapped in, but you can set yourself free. You have the key."

He gazed at her, feeling his eyes sting from tears. Her words seeped through his skin like tiny fingers covered in balm, stroking his soul, mending the torn-apart flaps of his self-worth. She was putting him on a pedestal, as if he was special. As if he was up to her. She was disclosing her inexplicable thoughts about him. She was gifting him with her wisdom. Wisdom gained through suffering. Remembering the loss of her parents and the struggle to survive cleared the fog of his mind. His problems were nothing compared to hers. But she had coped, becoming an amazing woman. He could do the same. Once more, she was there for him, seeing the man in him beyond all of his layers, and she was okay with all of his sides. She accepted him. He could be himself with her, any self, even that self he was still struggling to understand. She was the only one able to read through him like that. And her whole line of reasoning was unquestionably sensible. There was only one little detail she was completely wrong about.

"You're right about most of it, so I won't argue over what you said about future opportunities." He paused to sigh. "As far as I'm concerned, I think you're overrating me, but that's still fucking beautiful to hear." A tiny smile followed his words, then he covered her hands with his. "You know, there's a difference between being a rebel and acting like one. I am because it's my nature, because the system must be fought. I act like one to fill a void, to trigger a reaction. But one does not exclude the other. It's still me anyway. And I probably like being an idiot and I intend to be so for at least a couple of years yet, and then set my head straight. But I have already met the woman of my life, and she's exactly in front of me right now, and I can't think about having babies but with her and only her teaching them how to live with a permanent smile in spite of adversities. I know what you had to endure, I know about your decision to be alone. But you also said you cannot write without a pen, and I want to be your typewriter. Damn, I want to be a whole stock of typewriters for you and help you write up our days. I want to know why you think you have to leave, and I want to go with you. I want to see your hair becoming a silver cloak and tease you because you're all wrinkled while thinking you're still gorgeous. I need a lot of time to thank you. So, if you don't want to marry me when I'm ready to become a man and stop acting like an idiot – and believe me when I say I'd understand if you didn't want –, you better dump me now, because I won't be able to take that kind of rejection."

October's heart had stopped beating somewhere in the middle of his speech, or that was her impression at least. Ironically, right after that thought, her pulse got prominently back in action, pounding wildly in her chest, her throat, her veins. She stared at him agape, lost in his features, as if she couldn't believe what she was looking at. She realized she was still cupping his face. And against any common sense, against any voice in her head yelling that it was completely wrong since she was doomed to leave, that he would suffer even more, that she was being selfish, she crashed her lips on his just like their first kiss, in the same place and with the same overwhelming feeling that – by that time, she knew for sure – had a specific name.