Keep Quiet - 5. Moving in together

After that rather eventful summer, my life returned quickly to unremarkable routine. I continued my studies at the University as before, sharing most of my classes with Charles, and becoming close friends with him in the process. The awkwardness of the expedition to the wilderness remained with us, unspoken, although neither of us made any mention of that night when I had refused Charles’s advances. We focused instead on the subjects which fascinated us, physics, mathematics, and particularly astronomy. It soon became clear that Charles was far above the intellectual level of everyone else at the Faculty of Physics, myself included. This, compounded with the fact that his hearing loss continued to isolate him from most of our colleagues, made it so that most of the time Charles spent his time with me. I valued his friendship, his brilliance, and his insight, and together the two of us became a rather formidable academic team, with many lesser publications to our names by the time we graduated. A bright future was forecast for us both by professors and colleagues alike.

On my part, in a couple of years I had become quite proficient at sign language. However, the common form of American Sign Language that was in use at the time lacked complex scientific terminology, and Charles and I quickly developed our own personal variation of discourse, with many abbreviations, shortcuts, and simple logical representations of concepts which we used very often. Upon graduation, our communication had become so specialized that we did not need to utter a single word in each other’s presence unless it was convenient, and we had developed a wide variety of ways to communicate as we worked. Direct signs with our hands were the easiest way, of course, but we had also become quite fond of Morse using light, or vibrations, or any sort of input which could be decoded and expressed in binary fashion.

Abbreviations became commonplace, with acronyms and sequences of letters replacing our most commonly used phrases. I-K became ‘I know’, C-T became ‘check this’, and so on. Much more specific terminology was quickly given its own sign, with gestures or sequences specific to things like angle of incidence, standard deviation, observable error, weighted correlation index, and many more. In retrospect, I see that developing what essentially came to be our own private language further isolated us from everyone else, but at the time I did not experience it thus. I did not have a need for extensive social companionship when I was with Charles. He was both friend and colleague, mentor and confidant. Our friendship came to mean a lot to me, and I know he appreciated my company as well. Together, we were sure we would accomplish great things.

Throughout our years as undergraduates, and fueled by the rather reckless spending of a considerable amount of the Wentworth fortune, construction of the observatory Charles had envisioned was swift and efficient. His initial project had been scaled down significantly due to practical considerations, but its core remained unchanged. A main compound was built as both housing and research central, using the foundations of the old Hotel as had been originally planned. It featured three separate rooms intended for habitation: Charles’s own master suite and two guest bedrooms for his future colleagues or assistants. I remember my amazement at seeing the sumptuous style in which the rooms had been decorated the first time I visited the building once finished. Charles had spared no expense, and the bedrooms, with their thick ornate rugs, woven tapestries, fireplaces and imposing four-poster beds, easily exceeded the luxury with which Charles’s father had decorated the suites of his hotel so many years ago.

The bedrooms were far from the most remarkable rooms, however. The main building also featured, at ground level, two large laboratories, a library, a kitchen, staff bedrooms, and two bathrooms. One of the laboratories was eventually outfitted as a mixture of apothecary and chemistry lab. Charles incurred an almost baffling amount of expense in procuring reagents of every possible kind to stock its shelves with, but it was clear to me that he was glad to spend the money in something he thought worthy. He repeatedly expressed the wish to be completely independent from the outside world once he finally decided to move into his scientific hermitage, and the chemistry lab was a good example of the thorough self-sufficiency which would characterize nearly every other specialized room in the property. There were large experimentation tables made of brick and metal, rack upon rack of dried plants, salts, seeds, and even animal parts believed to possess this or that specific property. The lab had running water at every possible desirable temperature, a large furnace, and containers and decanters of glass, metal, marble, and even wood. Charles had also had the foresight of building a large tub at one end of the laboratory, made of reinforced porcelain, crafted well enough to withstand the strongest of acids or acid mixtures which Charles might one day need to employ in the course of his studies. Electricity was supplied to this laboratory, as well as to the rest of the compound and the annexes, by a series of generators which Charles himself had optimized upon installation. Fuel for the generators had been generously stockpiled, and Charles had plans to eventually supplement the energy generated by the fuel with energy from chemical sources which he himself planned to develop later on. Once he even spoke of harvesting energy from the sun itself via something he called solar sails. I marveled at both his inventiveness and resourcefulness. It is a testament to his genius that most of his plans for the Observatory, as the entire compound was eventually named, came to fruition in good time.

Opposite the chemistry lab, a much more important physics and astronomy lab had been built. It occupied nearly double the area of the former, and it had been outfitted with all manner of instrumentation for both observation and also data analysis. There were telescopes and lenses of every kind to be found there, as well as samples of nearly every chemical element which could be safely contained in a laboratory. There were devices which ranged from the simple, such as an array of prisms for investigating the properties of light, to the mysteriously complicated, like mechanical devices for storing information and making certain calculations easier – each of them Charles’s own invention. This lab became, eventually, the place where Charles would spend most of his time. A library had been added to it, and it was full of priceless volumes in many different languages. They ranged from the famous and incredibly expensive, such as two prominently displayed copies of Newton’s Principia Mathematica and Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, to the obscure and mysterious, like several tattered manuscripts dating from medieval times which only Charles could read, but which, he assured me, contained interesting insights on the nature of the world and the universe beyond it. Charles had even somehow procured actual scrolls from Persian and Alexandrian times, as well as one other book, Arab in origin, which he always kept under lock and key and which I never saw directly, because Charles appeared strangely averse to mentioning even its title.

All of this wealth of information was staggering, and yet it was not the end of the Observatory compound. Besides the large kitchen, which Charles kept staffed with three capable although taciturn cooks from a rather horrible seaside town in New England, an entire basement level had been dug out to serve as both larder and storage for every possible thing Charles thought he would need in the future. Foodstuffs were regularly delivered, and one of the large storage spaces was entirely devoted to fuel. There was also a water reservoir, in addition to a deep well which had been dug up beneath the property and whose waters were always crystalline, and ice cold. Some of the partitions of the basement were simply empty spaces at the beginning, awaiting whatever contents the years would see fit to deposit into them. Others held dangerous reagents and substances which Charles did not feel safe in keeping upstairs. Of particular note was a generous hunk of radium, kept in a lead box, stored in one of the otherwise empty rooms, access to it barred always by a heavy iron gate and a padlock which only Charles could open.

Above the ground floor, a smaller level had been built. It functioned as a sort of attic, although an empty one. I was always mildly disturbed by the emptiness of the attic whenever I chanced to go up there. It had many windows and magnificent wooden flooring, but whereas, with some decoration, it could have easily been turned into a dance hall or a studio or an art gallery, the fact that the walls were kept bare and that there was no furniture anywhere gave it always an air of abandonment and dread which I could not quite place. I avoided the space most of the time, but Charles would eventually go up there and spend hours upon hours thinking. I supposed, and still do, that genius such as his required isolation and calm at regular intervals so as to produce the truly groundbreaking ideas, concepts, and theories which Charles regularly grappled with.

Outside the main compound, a generous space had been designated as a garden where food was grown. A gardener was hired to keep it in good shape: a bearded man named Hank Scott, originally from the village of Tupper Lake. He was efficient and kept mostly to himself, qualities which Charles appeared to prize very highly. He lived in a small shack which had been constructed for him at the edge of the garden and it was thanks to his efforts that the occupants of the Observatory could regularly enjoy fresh produce as a welcome supplement to their summer and autumn meals.

Beyond the garden, the erstwhile observation tower had been transformed into the actual Observatory. It was expanded and extensively remodeled, its cupola almost a work of art. Charles imported builders from Italy to help construct the magnificent edifice, and although it was in building this that he spent a sizable portion of his resources, the investment was well worth it. The telescope at the top of the Observatory was powerful. Its lens array was large enough to offer the viewer relatively detailed images of even far-off Andromeda. It could be swiveled nearly 60 degrees so was to follow the movements of the stars, and inside there were many delicate measuring instruments and volume upon volume of ledgers to record information, which Charles slowly filled with his observations. Of all the places in the entire property, the Observatory was always my favorite. I would often go there during troubled nights and simply look up at the stars. They never ceased to amaze me – not until they started to horrify me. At the beginning, however, my love for the universe burned bright and through the telescope I was able to contemplate the majesty of Creation in a privileged way for which I am still thankful to this day.

There was another building still, although its completion took nearly four years, and during the first year of my stay at the Observatory, it was merely that – a work in progress. However, this was the focal point of Charles’s scientific endeavors. It was to become the locus of the obsession which eventually drove everything else from his mind. Upon completion, it was a marvel of engineering, completed decades before its time. Both in conception and execution, it was true genius which guided it. Through it, Charles was able to pierce the veil of ignorance which shrouds our world, and look beyond.

How I wish he had never done that. How I wish I had destroyed or sabotaged that abominable radio antenna while it was still being built. For that was what it became eventually – a gigantic parabolic dish which, by means of geometry and electromagnetism, was able to focus radio waves and beam them out into the void of space. I spoke with Charles about the device many times, although I was never able to fully grasp how it worked. When it was completed, though, years after the first stone of its foundation was set, it was a device capable of not only transmitting modulated electromagnetic waves, but also of receiving them, and interpreting them.

A crucial part, that. Or so Charles thought in his naïveté. In the end it did not matter.

The household staff of the Observatory was supplemented by a butler by the name of George White, several itinerant maids from the village of Tupper Lake, and the groundskeeper which had watched over the property for many years hence. Each was carefully instructed by Charles and, over the years, they became rather adept at working unseen so as not to disturb him. It was good, in a way, because delicate experiments and crucial sessions of intense mental deliberations could be carried out without fear of interruption, but it also had the consequence of making me, at least, feel as though the property were empty most of the time. It was a peaceful yet also unsettling sensation, to which I got accustomed only very slowly, and which I do not miss in the least. Even now, in my old age, I routinely seek human companionship so as to avoid recalling the isolation to which I willingly subjected myself in those times.

Back then, however, I did not consider it isolation but a privilege. Scarcely four months after our graduation, Charles formally offered me the position of colleague and partner at the Observatory. I must admit I did not even think about my decision, accepting on the spot. My father was pleased, because he knew that my future was all but assured as Charles’s scientific partner. My mother was less thrilled, urging me to perhaps consider spending a year abroad, traveling through Europe to get to know the world better. I should have listened to her, of course, but I did not. After a few weeks of preparation I packed my few belongings into a single suitcase, and I left my hometown to move in with Charles to dedicate our lives to the noble endeavor of scientific discovery.

The first months of our stay were wonderful, albeit slightly awkward. I remember still the excitement with which we both crossed the threshold of the Observatory’s main building for the first time. The servants had all been hard at work for several weeks to make the place habitable and welcoming, and their efforts had not been in vain. It felt almost like arriving at a luxurious resort where Charles and I were the only guests. Meals were served promptly whenever we wished. Entertainment was never far away, either in the form of scientific literature, experimentation, stargazing, or simply strolling through the wilderness in the crisp air of the valley in October. The landscape around us was breathtakingly beautiful as always, but the scenery reached new heights of poignant contrast when the leaves of the trees began to turn golden and red.

I had a room all to myself, adjacent to Charles’s own, and it was the largest space solely for my use which I had ever occupied. It had a beautiful view of the garden tended by Mr. Scott, a generous fireplace, and an enormous bed. There were even electric lights, which I could burn for as long as I wanted in the night should I be engrossed by calculations or literature pertinent to whichever area of study I had decided to dedicate my attention to. Not even during my days at the University had I known such academic freedom, and, despite the fact that my mind was nowhere near the level of Charles’s genius, I had my share of epiphanies and important discoveries every now and then. I also kept lively correspondence with many colleagues around the country, in London, in Vienna, and in Prague. Mail was delivered to the Observatory once a month, weather permitting, and so I was never too far separated from current events or the latest scientific papers, journals, and discoveries.

Sharing the same living space opened both Charles and myself to learning about facets of the other which, despite our close friendship, we were only now experiencing for the first time. Some of them were slightly annoying, I must confess. Charles dressed meticulously each and every day, as though he were expecting company or as though he were just about to go out to a social event. It took him nearly an hour every morning simply to get ready, and this meant that some of our time-sensitive experiments and studies in the early hours were mostly left to me because Charles was either still in the bath, or shaving, or picking an outfit for the day. I suppose that, from his perspective, I could have been seen as something of a slob – the clothes I was wearing were the least of my concerns, and often I would just don the previous day’s habiliments if they were not particularly dirty without thinking too much about it. Charles would sometimes suggest, only half-jokingly, whether he should not invite a tailor to stay with us for a season so my wardrobe could be appropriately supplemented.

Something else which I had not expected, and which required a certain measure of coordination on both our parts, was deciding what to eat. Because of his upbringing, Charles was used to simply eating whatever the chef or cook had prepared for him that day. I, on the other hand, liked to have a more active involvement in my diet, and this led to some interesting discussions regarding the instructions which should be given to the cooks as to what they should prepare. It did not help that I was not particularly fond of seafood or fish, which the cooks obviously loved with disproportionate, mildly unsettling zeal. The first thing resembling a fight Charles and I had happened during the third week after moving in. After having four dinners in a row on four different days featuring nothing but cod, salmon, trout, and octopus, I loudly declared I was sick of the fare and would greatly appreciate something a little different, like beef or, my favorite, venison. I may have remarked on the quality of the food before me rather negatively, which the cooks overheard – sadly, from that point on, the three already oddly quiet and secretive fellows made it a point of avoiding me whenever they could. Charles was none too pleased, either, reminding me that I was being rude, which naturally angered me and I stormed off to my room proudly, not coming out or talking to anyone until late the next day.

Overall, however, things went quite well and both Charles and I quickly adapted to each other’s quirks. Our shared love of science certainly made everything run much more smoothly. Now unhindered by limitations such as we had had at the University, and free to pursue whichever area of investigation struck our fancy, we made gigantic leaps in very short time in areas which may initially have appeared unrelated, but all of which had the ultimate objective of enabling Charles’s dream of communicating with the stars. It was thus that we quickly perfected a porous membrane which selectively allowed charged salt ions through itself in precise quantities – the foundation for Charles’s later creation of a chemical battery. We developed sophisticated mathematical notation for calculations involving the modulation of electromagnetic fields. We even dedicated some time to refining the existing models of the solar system and all relevant bodies within, work which later allowed Charles to precisely pinpoint the expected location of planets, satellites, and even some comets to a degree of exactitude which, he said, would be crucial for his communications endeavors in the future. Our life settled into a very comfortable routine and I had high hopes for the future. For the first couple of months, nothing of significance occurred to challenge this idea. Only when the weather turned colder did things change somewhat.

It was in early November that Charles began to express a certain vague discomfort which, he said, appeared to follow him around. At the beginning I merely attributed it to the fact that we were both in a relatively new environment, getting adjusted to a new rhythm of life, but when weeks went by and November turned into December, the long nights appeared to bring along with them a certain malaise of the mind under which Charles suffered increasingly. He would appear taciturn, withdrawn. Some mornings he would simply refuse to get out of bed and only come out well after noon had come and gone, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and looking haggard despite his careful manner of dress, claiming that he could not wake up early and that he needed a prodigious amount of sleep in order to feel well rested.

He began to eat more than usual, indulging in sweets and desserts which the cooks were quick to provide him with. His temper was also rather short at seemingly random intervals, and he would get discouraged very quickly and abandon projects which he had with great enthusiasm started only a few days hence. He would also go to bed very late indeed, even on nights when we did not carry out any observations through the telescope. He became less talkative, more focused in the theories and concepts of great complexity which appeared to be his only source of solace.

In January, when the cold was deepest and the darkness seemingly interminable, he began to have nightmares. He would wake up late in the day, exhausted, still immaculately dressed but with dark circles under his eyes which grew more pronounced as the days went by. Worried, I suggested we do something to try and address the source of his discomfort. Charles appeared despondent, but receptive to my suggestions. It was thus that we began to take long walks through the forest around the property, a custom which later became a thrice-weekly routine.

The wilderness was never far away, living where we did. The first time we went out, we did so around noon to take advantage of the fleeting sunlight. It was mid-January and snow was everywhere. A path of sorts had been prepared for us by the gardener the previous day: Mr. Scott had salted the ground in a wide circuit which led from the main Observatory complex into the trees, around the crater, and through the gardens. It was thus relatively easy going for us both, and we were free to admire the still majesty of nature, dormant in the throes of winter cold.

Charles was hesitant to leave the comfort of being indoors, but I insisted and in the end he relented. For the first ten minutes or so of our walk he dragged his feet, looking at the ground and appearing lost in dark thoughts. However, once the path led us into the trees, I noticed a slight improvement in his demeanor.

It’s beautiful, I gestured, looking all about.

Almost reluctantly, he nodded.

I-K, he signed. I know.

Our breath misted in front of our faces every time we exhaled, but despite the chilly temperature, I realized I felt quite comfortable out in nature. The two of us stood there for some time, surrounded by trees devoid of leaves, and I could not help but marvel at the fact that this entire property was off-limits to all but a few people, like myself, fortunate enough to have been granted access to this fascinating and mostly wild region. It was normally easy to believe that the entire world had long since been discovered and explored, but being out in places such as this one was one of the best ways for me to realize that, even within our own country, there were still countless places which no one had explored thoroughly, and where untold mysteries might still be hiding, awaiting discovery.

I felt Charles’s hand on my shoulder.

Look, he gestured with his eyes and his lips, yet without making a sound. I followed his gaze and was startled to see a magnificent stag standing less than twenty feet away, half hidden by a large pine tree. His head was crowned by an impressive set of antlers, the tips of which appeared frosted with ice overlaying a very slight patina of dark fungoid green which, although slightly out of place, gave him a more imposing presence. He was the very embodiment of strength and confidence. The stag appeared to have long since seen us, and yet, after a pause, he simply walked away, unhurried. Both of us could do nothing but admire him in silence. It was only after he had disappeared that I realized that it was rather early in the season for a stag to have fully grown antlers already, although I had never been much of a chordate naturalist and I was not at all familiar with the wildlife in this region and all its quirks.

We continued our walk at a slower pace, and now Charles appeared to have forgotten all about his dark mood. By his frequent comments highlighting this or that beautiful icicle, a lonesome bird spotted by chance between the branches of a tree, or the beauty of a small stream turned to ice, I could tell that my idea to bring him out of the Observatory was working as intended. The change of scenery and the fresh air did wonders not only for him, but for me as well, and I was quite relaxed and at ease with the world by the time the path rounded and led us closer to the edge of the crater.

Curiously, neither Charles nor I had dedicated a single evening towards further exploration of that place and the cavern we knew lay beneath. I did not know why Charles had not attempted to explore it again, but for me, the strangeness associated with our single foray into that cavern had been enough and I was happy to leave it be. Now, in the middle of winter, the crater appeared much less like an odd scar on the surface of the earth and more like a quite ordinary gentle depression of the terrain, completely covered by snow as it was. It blended in nicely with the rest of the landscape, the only remarkable thing about it being that it was such a wide open space where no trees grew.

We sat down on one of the fallen tree trunks left behind from the bolide explosion, and we had just begun eating some mixed nuts I had brought along, when a squirrel descended from the branches of a nearby conifer and jumped onto the snow. Charles was quick to offer it a nut, but the squirrel dashed back up the tree at the motion of his arm. Curiosity must have gotten the best of it, however, because it eventually came back down and appeared to be caught between the instinct to run away and the desire to get some food. Charles threw a cashew at it. The squirrel bolted again, and it was nearly five minutes later that it gathered enough courage to once again return to ground level. It located the treat straight away, pounced upon it, and stuffed it in its cheeks.

I laughed. It was the first sound either Charles or I had made since starting our walk, and it felt somehow out of place amidst all that natural stillness. The squirrel, evidently alarmed, disappeared up the tree and this time did not come down. Charles and I finished our snack and resumed our walk.

Must be a new variety, Charles said to me silently a little while later.

What?

That squirrel. I didn’t know their tail fur could turn so dark. Looked almost green around the base, don’t you think?

No idea. I didn’t even notice.

The rest of the walk was uneventful but quite invigorating. That day, Charles was much more energetic and upbeat than usual, even suggesting we spend some time properly outfitting a corner of the physics lab as a sort of biological analysis station, bringing expensive microscopes and lenses out from storage in the basement and arranging them around and on one of the larger workstations at the southern end of the physics lab. It was satisfying work, and by the time midnight came around I went to my room feeling pleasantly tired. I fell asleep almost immediately.

I was awoken by Charles’s scream in the night.

It was quite startling and I was awake instantly. Not only was it the first time it had happened, but, because Charles and I rarely needed to speak at all, hearing his voice had become an odd occurrence over the weeks. Hearing him scream – I had not heard him do that, not since our expedition years ago.

Half-dressed, I stumbled out of my room. The butler, worried, met me in the hallway.

“It’s okay, Mr. White,” I said aloud. “I will go check on him.”

I knocked at Charles’s door but there was no answer. I entered slowly, wondering if I should turn on the lights.

“Charles, it’s me,” I said in the dark. I could scarcely see.

“Danny?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry. I… I had a nightmare.”

“Ah. I thought something had happened to you. I’m glad everything’s okay.”

I made as if to leave, but Charles’s carefully modulated voice stopped me.

“Danny?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind… Would you mind staying for a while?”

I opened the door briefly to notify Mr. White that everything was okay. Then, after closing it, I walked to Charles’s bed. He had not closed his curtains, and faint moonlight streamed in from the enormous window which flanked his four-poster bed. The window stretched from floor to ceiling. It was about six feet wide and the thick glass was so exquisitely clean that it felt as though we were still out in the wilderness in some way. I could see snow falling just outside. The effect was quite calming, although it was obvious that Charles was feeling anything but calm at the moment.

I came to a stop next to the bed. Charles was sitting up under the covers, his knees drawn up to his chest. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dimness and I could see better, I could tell that he appeared terrified.

What’s the matter? I signed, looking around for a chair to drag so I could sit next to him.

Charles noticed and instead shuffled to the side on his mattress, clearly inviting me to sit next to him, which I did straight away. It was obvious that he needed the comfort of physical closeness.

Settling down at his side, I waited for him to feel ready to speak. I could hear him breathing rather fast, but it seemed to me that it was best not to press him and to simply wait for him to describe whatever he had dreamt which had disturbed him so. It was just a few minutes later that he spoke, aloud, staring straight ahead, as if afraid to meet my eyes.

“You will probably think I’m such a bother,” he said.

“I don’t think that.”

“I’m a grown man disturbed out of his wits by a nightmare. It is something more appropriate to a child.”

“I don’t think so. Nightmares can be bad.”

He looked at me briefly and then looked away. “I have always had them, you know?”

I said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“Ever since that night so many, many years ago. I will see them – my mother, my father. Dead. Or I will relive the funeral, for example. Or I will remember that horrible hand… Or it will be something mundane, like dreaming of a sunset. I don’t know what it is, Danny. It’s like I’m always sad. I try to be upbeat and get on with life and our projects, but there are periods of time when it just feels like such a chore to wake up. Have you ever felt like that?”

“I don’t think so,” I said carefully.

He smiled sadly. “Of course you haven’t. I’m glad. I’m happy for you, really. This sadness that follows me around… I don’t like it. Most of the time I can just ignore it, especially if I’m working. That’s why I like it here so much. There’s nothing but work and I don’t have to fit in anymore, or compensate for the fact that I can’t hear well. I built this place for me – for us. Here I can be myself. That’s good, most of the time. But then the sadness comes, and also this other thing, this kind of… Fear, I think I could call it. When I’m okay I scarcely notice it, but then something will trigger it and I can’t get rid of it at all. It could be anything: maybe a project not working the way I wanted to, or maybe waking up with a toothache, or just the long nights of winter like now.

“I can tell when I am having a… a spell of negativity, because I sleep much more. At the same time, I don’t like sleeping that much because I get dreams. They make me feel bad, and they scare me. I know it is cowardly of me to say this, but sometimes I have these horrible feelings… Like I will never be happy again, or like something horrible is about to happen, only I don’t know what it is. I can’t really explain it very well. There is no rhyme or reason to it. I just want it to end when I get like this, but the more I obsess about it, the more difficult it is to break free of the horrible cycle.

“It helped me to go walking in the woods today, actually. I’m so thankful that you thought of that. I believed that I would be able to sleep better tonight, and at the beginning I did, but then I had this nightmare… I can’t even remember it well. Some shape moving in the dark, threatening me. I was sure it had seen me and there was no way out. I was trying to cry out for help desperately, drowning, and there was a light, gold and green – I think I may have cried out for help for real. I apologize for waking you up.”

There’s no need, I gestured, sitting closer so he would be able to see my hands. For some reason, speaking silently felt much more meaningful and natural to me whenever I was with Charles. I knew it was an effort for him to speak aloud, and I suspected that he might have been doing it right then as a way to distance himself from what he was feeling, but I wanted him to know that it was okay. I’m glad you’re not hurt. I thought something had happened.

He looked at me, his eyes bright as though he were about to cry. However, when before such a display of emotion would have made me uncomfortable, I was now fully at ease.

Is there anything I can do? I asked. Anyway I can help you feel better?

Charles said nothing for several long, long moments. He appeared to be fighting with himself and I actually felt him trembling slightly. Then it was as though he had reached a conclusion, because he shifted the way he was sitting so he would be facing me. He leaned a tiny bit closer.

Could you stay? he asked me. Then he looked away, as though embarrassed for having asked.

I placed my hand on his shoulder so he would look at me again. Of course.

We sat together rather awkwardly, in complete silence, for the better part of a minute. Charles was crying softly now, and I was alarmed but did not know what to do. I was afraid of doing the wrong thing and so I merely stayed right where I was, worrying. It seemed like a long time before Charles was able to regain some composure. Then he took a long, shaky breath, looked at me tearfully and said,

Danny, I think I need a hug.

I nodded and opened my arms.

He all but crashed into me, hugging me fiercely, crying again, and clinging to me as though he were clinging to a raft so he would not drown.

“It’s okay,” I kept saying aloud. “It’s okay.”

A long minute later I pulled Charles back slightly and wiped the tears from his cheeks. I felt bad because I cared for him deeply and I hated seeing him suffering so. I wished I knew what to do to make him feel better.

Our faces were inches from each other. Charles leaned forward slightly but caught himself and drew back. His body trembled in my arms.

Suddenly, I knew what to do.

I leaned forward and gently touched his cheek. Then I closed my eyes and drew him close. He acquiesced, unresisting, and I lay down fully on the bed along with him, pulling the covers over us in the process. He hugged me fiercely and I stroked his hair, whispering words of comfort out of instinct although I knew he would barely be able to hear them. Minutes passed by and eventually Charles relaxed. I held him gently, until he fell asleep, comforting him all through the night.