Chapter 9: Expression

I knew where Charlotte's house was having dropped her off there that one time, but it had been at night. Seeing her house during the day was quite a surprise. It was huge. It was a mansion really, with a huge yard. There was a curved driveway, and three different sports cars parked in front of the garage. I felt rather self-conscious pulling my dinky little truck in beside one of them.

I rang the doorbell and waited, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I had my fingers tucked into the pockets of my pants and my shoulders were somewhat hunched when the door opened.

"Hello," a handsome-looking man said. "You must be Anthony."

"Yes," I said, turning to face him. "I'm here to see Charlotte."

"I'm Ron Lawsen, her father," he said, extending his hand to shake mine. He had the crushing grip of a businessman, and I felt self-conscious once again, giving him only a limp little squeeze back. He was a powerful-looking man, and I could see why Charlotte respected him. I wouldn't ever want to be on his bad side.

Suddenly Stephanie appeared behind him. I froze up a bit when I saw her. She was a truly beautiful and amazingly sexy-looking woman. It wasn't so much her looks that dazzled me, it was her presence. I'm not sure how to explain it. She just seemed larger than the space she filled in front of me somehow. She had a big, bright smile and dazzling eyes that seemed to be absorbing the sight of me, rather than just looking at me. I suddenly felt a lot younger than I actually was.

"So this is what you look like, my boy. He's as sexy as Charlotte said he is. Oh my goodness. Come on in, Anthony."

She stepped out to meet me, put her arm around behind me, and guided me into the house.

"Charlotte's been sleeping ever since Steve left. You can go on up and see her if you want."

"Or I can get you a drink, Anthony. What'll it be?" Ronald offered.

"We've just finished supper too, if you'd like a bite to eat," Stephanie added. Their hospitality was almost overwhelming for an average Joe like me.

"Actually, if Charlotte hasn't eaten yet, Maybe I can take a plate of food up to her. She must be ravenous by now."

Stephanie and Ronald looked at one another for a moment, and then smiled at me.

"Good thinking, Anthony," Ronald said. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to get ready. We'll be going soon. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and tell Charlotte I said to be good. She'll know what that means."

"Will do, Mr. Lawsen," I said.

Ronald walked up gave my hand another shake, and smiled broadly. Then he wandered away into the house somewhere and Stephanie took me by the arm into the kitchen.

"I've gotta say, I'm quite impressed, Anthony."

"How so?"

"Offering to take some food up to Char like that—you scored some big points with her daddy, let me tell you. It takes quite a bit to earn my husband's approval. You're the first one of Charlotte's boyfriends ever to do it. Most boys who come here to see her only have one thing on their minds. They think they're being subtle but it's so obvious. Some of them even try hitting on me. Ron's never had any use for any of them, until now. Very good job."

She gave me a pat on the butt and then she was gone too.

The Lawsens moved through the house, gathering up a few things they needed for wherever it was they were going, and then they headed out the door, arm-in-arm. Stephanie gave me another happy little wave, and then they were gone.

The food laid out across the counter between the kitchen and dining area was somewhat of a mini-banquet. I had trouble believing that they made this much supper just for the three of them, but then I saw a pamphlet for Meals by Montague, Deluxe Catering Service. Wow. They must have ordered in. I picked up a platter from the dining room table and loaded it with all sorts of delicacies, enough for both of us to pick at all night long. I also took a couple of bottles of some exotic-looking fruit beverage from the fridge, the same one Ronald had pulled out of there. I set all of it onto a tray and then I headed upstairs to search out Charlotte's room.

I only looked in three rooms before I found Charlotte's, but they were huge. I looked into the first bedroom, obviously the Lawsens'. The ceiling must have been fifteen feet high at least, and the entire wall was one big window, except for a strip of solid wall in the middle where the bed was. There was a fireplace and a mini bar and a huge canopy bed. There was a plasma television on the wall and a set of home theater speakers on each post of the bed. It looked amazingly luxurious. Everything was black marble and white paint, with chocolate-colored trimming. There were even his and her walk-in closets. I was astonished.

Across the hall from the Lawsens' bedroom was a bathroom. There was a toilet, a bidet, and a truly king-sized bathtub. At least I think it was a bathtub, it might have been a hot tub or something. It looked big enough for at least two people. There were stairs leading up to it, as though the queen herself bathed in there. The ceiling was high in here too and it almost didn't even look like a bathroom. It looked more like a cathedral of hygiene. There were windows up to the ceiling in here too, but the glass was translucent brick shapes, stacked up from the floor to the ceiling. The entire wall opposite the bath tub was one long mirror from front to back. It went from the top of the counter all the way to the ceiling. The room looked huge.

There was another room down the hall, but I heard soft music coming from the door to the left of the bathroom. I decided to check that one out first. Sure enough, there was a beautiful girl asleep on a gigantic princess bed in the middle of the room—Charlotte.

Charlotte's room was all white and pastel pink, with cathedral ceilings and a four-poster canopy bed. It had streaming reams of see-through fabric flowing down on all sides. She also had a plasma TV and a home theater system build into her bed, but the speakers were white, matching her bedposts. There was soft instrumental music playing out of them that seemed to set the mood perfectly for sleeping, some sort of slow melodic saxophone number with a light string section in the background. It was very soothing, and it added that extra bit of ambiance to the whole scene.

She had shelves full of books on one wall and her own little walk-in closet on the other wall. Her windows also went up to the ceiling as well, but there were heavy blinds covering them, rendering the room almost completely dark, except for the soft lighting that shone down from the dimmer-lamps along the walls. She had no posters on her walls, like Sheila did, but there was a map of the world, and a chart of the constellations. That was kind of interesting. I also noticed there was a patio door in the corner, which Mr. and Mrs. Lawsen didn't have. Out on the balcony, between the slats of the partly closed vertical blinds, I could see a high-powered telescope pointed up at the sky. Charlotte's desk was cluttered with mirrors, makeup, and school books, the same ones I had on my desk at home, and they looked kind of strange in such luxurious surroundings.

Then of course the centerpiece, the brightest jewel of the room was Charlotte herself. She was sleeping on the bed, under the soft lights of the room and she looked angelic. I walked up quietly and set the tray of food down on her bedside table. I parted the translucent pink satiny curtains that streamed down from the framework above the bed, and sat down beside her. I just sat there for the longest time staring at her, listening to the music, and watching her sleep. Now that I could see her face, her hair, her lips, her gentle breathing on the bed before me, I realized once and for all that no matter how sexy Stephanie had been, Charlotte was worth passing her up for.

I was suddenly terrified of being so close to her, of the feelings that were racing through me just sitting next to her, close enough to reach out and touch her. I was terrified, but at the same time, I was ecstatic. She was so beautiful it made me ache. Everything inside me felt gooey and giddy and messy. I felt the way a man might feel if he'd just found out he was nearly killed but narrowly escaped, and didn't even notice—terror and elation and gratitude. Mix a whole lot of humility and unworthiness into that, and that's pretty much how I felt, except it had nothing to do with nearly being killed. It was more just simple fear that this might all end badly if I put my heart on the line. But like a man who's nearly been killed, there wasn't a damn whole lot I could do about it.

Yup. I was definitely falling in love, and in spite of everything that might go horribly wrong with it, it felt awesome.

I lifted a pad of paper from the table on her bedside. She had written on it in swirly little girlish writing:

Anthony Mitchell.
If this wasn't real love,
I wouldn't be so scared.
???!!!???!!!???

It was short and simple, but it said it all. I lifted the pen from the table and I turned the page over. I wrote a poem:

Girl on a Bed

A clear and shining Jewel
on the petal of a pure peach-colored flower,
drifting precariously on an uncertain stream
above the sparkling ripples
that carry her courageously to unknown ends -
She loves me...

The depth below is scary though.
One slip and she could fall under,
lost, beyond my reach forever,
leaving an empty petal,
drifting down the stream alone -
She loves me not...

A. J. M.

It was a poem about how beautiful she looked, laying there with a somewhat worried look on her face as she slept. It was also about being a teenager in love, and not knowing what will happen tomorrow. I made it up on the spot and was somewhat proud of it.

I put the pen down and put the pad back where it had been then I laid down on the bed beside her, resting my head on my arm, and waiting for her to wake up. I wanted to kiss her, but she was like a beautiful picture before me, in a still and unmoving repose of quiet beauty. She was not a picture though. She was real.

She sighed in her sleep when I reached out to stroke her forearm. I pulled her hand gently to my lips and kissed it. Finally her eyes fluttered open. She did not speak. She just stared at me kissing her hand and I stared back at her. She was smiling.

"I thought I was dreaming for a moment there."

I shook my head. It was not a dream, though it felt like one.

"How long you been lyin' there?" she asked.

"I dunno."

"I'm glad you're here..."

"Hungry?"

"Just sleepy."

"I brought some food."

"Feed me..."

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. She looked chillingly gorgeous like that. I badly wanted to smother her with kisses, but I decided that watching her sweet mouth eating from my very hand would be wonderful enough.

I reached up and selected a slice of carrot from the plate. I dipped it in a bit of sauce and brought it to her lips. She took a little nibble, and opened her eyes once again. There was a smile in her gaze as she looked steadfastly into mine. She took another bite, and I offered her a cherry tomato. She bit into it and some juice dribbled from her lips. I wiped it away with my thumb and gave her the other half of the tomato.

"Thirsty?"

"Uh-huh."

I opened one of the bottles and brought it to her lips. She sipped at it, closing her eyes once again, breaking her gaze into mine. Then I offered her some lightly roasted mashed potatoes on the ends of two fingers. She licked them away and paused to suck gently on my fingers as well. I gave her some more. She took another nibble and then I tasted them as well, finally feeling the hunger I had managed to ignore all day.