Better Men
Fancy Liquor and Paperback Novels
I awoke beside Charles the following morning. He was still; peacefully sleeping for a few moments longer-his brow furrowing in deep concentration. Always thinking. I smiled to myself as I ran my fingers over his hair. The sun was just peaking over the gothic towers of the Oxford campus, shedding a hazy glow over the green lawn just in sight of the hotel window. I watched Charles twitch his lips and exhale slowly, finding a moment to relax his features.
If only the serenity could have lasted. “Good morning,” he mumbled, waking with somewhat of a start. I went to return the greeting, but he cut me off, “Look, about last night-”
“I won’t tell anyone, Charles.” I tried to assure him.
“I know you won’t.” He said nervously, biting his lip and sitting up straight in the bed. “I know- because I intend to erase your memory, Poppy.” He responded to my thought glumly, almost apologetically. “No, don’t feel that way. It’s better for you, really it is. Yes, of course I trust you, I- I just don’t think- I don’t think everyone else is ready, yet-”
He reached to touch my face. I pulled away. “Charles.”
“It’s not that I don’t like you. In fact, it’s really- because I like you. This is not how a relationship ought to be. No. It’s not that I’m better than you- it’s the opposite.” He seemed to struggle to keep up, my mind racing. “You’ll remember long-term. You just won’t remember last night, is all. Don’t worry. No, come on now. It won’t hurt.” I felt a tear slide down my cheek, though I was unsure over what I was crying: losing a part of my memory? Losing Charles?
He shifted uncomfortably and pursed his lips. “I can promise you that this is a mistake.” He warned, standing. “I’ve got to get to class.” He headed out the door without as much as a goodbye.
Dauntingly, I thought (trying to scream within my head to ensure that he would hear it): a mistake for whom?
I heard nothing and assumed he didn’t pick it up. I rolled back under the covers.
A mistake for you, of course. I’ve already told you. But, it’s your decision- not mine. I forgot my jacket. I’ll be by this afternoon to get it. I glanced over at the armchair- seeing his suede blazer. I went over and picked it up, feeling the smooth fabric between my fingers. It smelled like him; fancy liquor and paperback novels. I took a moment and held it close to me, hoping only that Charles was out of my head so he couldn’t see.
If only the serenity could have lasted. “Good morning,” he mumbled, waking with somewhat of a start. I went to return the greeting, but he cut me off, “Look, about last night-”
“I won’t tell anyone, Charles.” I tried to assure him.
“I know you won’t.” He said nervously, biting his lip and sitting up straight in the bed. “I know- because I intend to erase your memory, Poppy.” He responded to my thought glumly, almost apologetically. “No, don’t feel that way. It’s better for you, really it is. Yes, of course I trust you, I- I just don’t think- I don’t think everyone else is ready, yet-”
He reached to touch my face. I pulled away. “Charles.”
“It’s not that I don’t like you. In fact, it’s really- because I like you. This is not how a relationship ought to be. No. It’s not that I’m better than you- it’s the opposite.” He seemed to struggle to keep up, my mind racing. “You’ll remember long-term. You just won’t remember last night, is all. Don’t worry. No, come on now. It won’t hurt.” I felt a tear slide down my cheek, though I was unsure over what I was crying: losing a part of my memory? Losing Charles?
He shifted uncomfortably and pursed his lips. “I can promise you that this is a mistake.” He warned, standing. “I’ve got to get to class.” He headed out the door without as much as a goodbye.
Dauntingly, I thought (trying to scream within my head to ensure that he would hear it): a mistake for whom?
I heard nothing and assumed he didn’t pick it up. I rolled back under the covers.
A mistake for you, of course. I’ve already told you. But, it’s your decision- not mine. I forgot my jacket. I’ll be by this afternoon to get it. I glanced over at the armchair- seeing his suede blazer. I went over and picked it up, feeling the smooth fabric between my fingers. It smelled like him; fancy liquor and paperback novels. I took a moment and held it close to me, hoping only that Charles was out of my head so he couldn’t see.
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I like to try to let you get into the story before hearing too many comments from me, but I'd really like to thank everyone for commenting and subscribing. I knew I couldn't be the only one who found Charles attractive. ;)I just wanted to let you all know; as this story develops, I see the continuing need for Charles’ Point Of View. The next chapter will be kind of a tester and if it goes well, I’ll alternate between him and Poppy. I’ll need your feedback, all.
Again, thanks!