Charles and Richard Chapter 19

On the way to close up the shop with his father

R: Dad, I came to help out!

Father: Richie, is that you?

R: Charles! Hi!

C: ….

Charles knew perfectly well how much of an idiot he must look like. He’d ignore Richard with silence and then regret it every single time. But whenever Charles turned his head to look for Richard, hoping to fix the situation, Richard had already left.

That day was one of his trips to the lake. It had been a while since Charles had cast his fishing rod. The low wooden dock, built so people could paddle canoes around, was perfect for fishing. He resolved that this time, he would finally come to some decent conclusion about Richard. If the early summer sunlight hadn’t been so pleasant, he might have managed it. But the early summer sun was so nice that it even made Charles—who was probably the most confused and unsettled person on the planet at that moment—succumb to a nap.

Charles rolled up his pant legs, dipped his feet in the lake, and lay down on the dock just like that, falling asleep. Beside him, only his fishing rod remained awake. He slept deeply for about an hour, then woke to the sound of boys laughing and splashing in the lake. Charles wasn’t in the mood to swim, so he just held on to his fishing rod.

As dusk fell, he packed up his gear and dusted himself off. He got off at his usual stop, slung his fishing rod over his shoulder, and walked slowly. This time, Charles spotted Richard in the distance, walking straight toward him. His mother—or perhaps his father—must have told him. Charles didn’t avoid him; he kept walking. They soon met.

Richard didn’t say anything.

Instead of speaking, he gave a gentle smile and started walking alongside Charles. The two boys walked in silence past the noisy street lined with open-air bars. Occasionally, the tools in Charles’s plastic fishing bag clinked together. Richard walked with his hands in his pockets. He’d glance at the shop displays they passed, or look back when he heard loud laughter, simply matching Charles’s pace.

Charles felt like his heart was about to burst. Every time people jostled them and his arm brushed against Richard’s, he tried not to startle. The feel of Richard’s bare skin touching his was, to be honest, completely indescribable. Everything happened too fast. Charles gripped his fishing rod so unnaturally tight that his hand ached. Unlike Richard, he stared straight ahead the whole time. It was very unnatural, but he couldn’t think that far ahead.

They turned onto the street where their houses were. Charles mechanically moved his feet, doubting whether he was even breathing anymore, and if he was, how on earth he was managing it. He felt relieved when he finally saw his house in the distance. Without realizing it, Charles quickened his pace. Then Richard, walking beside him, lightly caught his wrist.

R: Slowly, Charles.

C: ….

R: Let’s walk slowly.

Charles didn’t even dare to look at Richard’s face.

∞ ∞ ∞ 

When Charles went to pick up his mother on Friday, she suddenly said she had other plans.

Mother: Are you getting along better with Richie?

C: I guess.

Mother: You absolutely must bring Richie home this evening. We promised to have dinner together.

Charles didn’t complain, but he didn’t nod either—he just scuffed the ground with his toe. After his mother left first, Richard didn’t clock out either. Charles sat on a pile of scrap tires outside the workshop and waited for him. Richard didn’t finish work until past six-thirty. He glanced into the office, tilted his head, and then turned, spotting Charles on the scrap tires and flashing a smile.

R: I’ll go change out of my work clothes. Wait just a bit.

After a moment, Richard came back, having roughly washed his fingers, arms, and face. Charles jumped down from the tires.

They started walking together again in silence. As summer approached, the sun set later and later. It was around seven, and the surroundings were still bright. The sky in the distance was beginning to darken, but it wasn’t yet dark enough for the streetlights to come on. Neither Richard nor Charles spoke. On the way, they stopped by his father’s store. When they poked their heads in, an employee came out instead of his father.

Employee: Your father went with your mother because of their plans. Here—he left money for you to order pizza.

It was only then that Charles realized he’d been set up by his parents. Richard, acting as if he knew nothing, cheerfully took the bills. Charles, pale-faced, walked home with Richard, who was humming a tune.

One immense relief was that Cherry was home. Cherry remembered Richard. In fact, she was so overjoyed to see Richard appear at the front door for the first time in years that she nearly fainted. The dog kept whining and absolutely refused to leave Richard’s arms. Cherry probably thought Richard had died and come back to life. Cherry and Richard quickly reconnected and got along well. In this situation where it was just Charles and Richard in the house, Cherry’s presence was truly a blessing.

Richard held Cherry in his arms and called the pizza place. (He’d asked Charles what he wanted before ordering, but Charles didn’t answer.) Until the pizza arrived, they still didn’t speak. Richard was busy playing with Cherry. Charles paced restlessly around the kitchen, then jumped at the sound of the doorbell. Richard paid and called out to Charles.

Dragging his reluctant feet to the living room, Richard had laid out two pizzas on the table and was sternly warning Cherry not to lunge at them. Charles plopped down on the single-seater sofa. Richard glanced at him, then went to the kitchen and brought back two bottles of beer. Charles was too nervous to eat even a single slice of pizza, so he was actually grateful for the beer.

Richard ate his pizza without much talk. He seemed quite hungry. Charles only sipped his beer, watching Richard. Richard, chewing with his cheeks full, suddenly looked at Charles. After swallowing his pizza, he asked.

R: Charles. Aren’t you going to eat?

C: ….

Charles didn’t answer. Richard stared at him for a moment, then put his pizza down.

R: Charles.

C: ….

R: Charles.

C: ….

R: Charles, are you not going to talk to me?

C: ….

R: Why?

C: ….

R: Charles. Why?

At that moment, Charles realized. Charles was angry at Richard. So angry that he couldn’t even speak. He glared at Richard, sitting there smugly in front of him. Finally, Charles opened his mouth.

C: Why did you come back?

It was the first words he’d spoken in the two weeks since Richard had appeared before him after years had passed. This time, it was Richard who fell silent. Charles stared at Richard without blinking. Richard seemed about to speak, then suddenly bit his lower lip.

Charles felt a surge of anger. Once he acknowledged that he was angry, he grew even angrier, and he glared coldly at Richard. Of course, glaring coldly at Richard was a very difficult thing to do. Richard said nothing, but he didn’t avoid Charles’s gaze either. That made Charles angry too. He shot daggers at Richard’s water-colored eyes, then sprang to his feet.

C: Forget it. You can eat the pizza yourself.