Charlie

The four of you sneak back into the dorm in that loud sneaking way drunks have. It was in the early hours of the morning, a few of the guys were still up but most everyone was asleep. "Shhhh. Mama Rose'll hear us!" One of them says and you all start laughing as you stumble by her door. One of you falling down, you and the others help him back up. You say your goodbyes at the stairs and you stagger your way to your room.

You'd left your keys at home since you knew Charlie would be in. You hadn't planned on being out quiet so late. You are happy to see by the light under the door he was still up. You knock lightly. After a moment the door opens. You lurch into the room as Charlie closes the door behind you. You could see on his computer screen some school work open, he was such a workaholic.

You turn and sway back and forth as you smile down at him, a wide stupid drunken grin. You step up to stand so very close to him, he grimaces and turns his face from your breath. Luckily or unluckily for Charlie you were a big silly teddy bear when you were drunk.

"Hi Sharlie." You slur, that goofy grin only widening as you looked at him.

He laughs. "Oh man are you drunk." He pushes against your chest with both hands, you take an uneasy backward step.

You blink one eye then the other. "Yeah I hads a couple...drinks. Um. Hi Sharlie."

He shakes his head and walks back to sit at his computer and return to his work. "Hi Sharlie." You say once more.

"Hello Jonathan." He says without looking. "Did you have a good time?"

You smile. "You call me Jonasan. He he he." You belch. "Woulda been funner wish you zhere... Dere were lotsa girls zhere."

He ignores you as you just stand grinning like a fool and watching him. You sway this way and that but you stay stood in the middle of the small room. Just staring. He finally looks over his shoulder and sighs. "What are you doing?"

"You're shexy. How you like zhat? I don't get it. You're not shupposed to be like zhat."

He rolls his eyes. "You're drunk."

You keep smiling. "Yeah." You then have a brilliant idea. "Hey, let's kish."

"Ew, gross. No thanks. I don't kiss drunks."

"Okay. Hey, less go get pizza."

"No thank you."

"Oh...okay. Hey, you should come out wish me nex' time. We'll get shit faced togezzer."

"No thanks."

You giggle. "Okay...Hey I know! Let's kish."

"Jonathan...sit down before you fall over." He was taking this all very well considering, it helped the pair of you were so comfortable together already. He trusted you even in your inebriated state. It was a well placed trust, you'd rather tear your own arms from your shoulders than harm a hair on his cute little head. He says again. "Come on, sit down Jonathan."

"Yes shir!" You sit on his bed with a clumsy thump. "He he he. I'll shleep here tonight." You bounce up and down a few times on your butt.

He sighs. "On your bed."

You grumble in disappointment as you stagger over to your own bed. You were having fun listening to his instructions though. You laugh. "Tell me what elshe to do, you're tha...tha bosh. Want me to get naked." You laugh again. "I shows you mine if you shows me yoursh."

"I've seen yours...a lot."

You laugh harder. "Oh yeah! Ha ha ha! I'm such a shlut."

You just keep staring and smiling at him like a love sick puppy. He is focused on the screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard faster than you could process. You continue to sit and admire him. After a while he can't ignore you any longer. He looks over his shoulder and laughs. He was exasperated but he was also entertained by your making a fool of yourself. "What now!?"

"You're cute!" You state boldly.

"You're drunk." He replies again, equally boldly.

You sigh and blow out a long breath. "Yeah. I sink I am." The room was spinning and you were having a harder time focusing.

"Lie down Jonathan." He says, a firm note entering his soft voice.

"Yes shir." You follow direction, lying on your back but with your head turned towards him. "Want me to get naked? Hey, um, let's fuck."

"Oh my god, you are incorrigible!"

"Hey!" You exclaim, taking playful offense at the comment. "I'z never even been to Germany!" You retort.

He starts to laugh, a long hard genuine belly laugh. "That doesn't even make any sense!"

You are grinning ear to ear, his laughter was music to your soul. You blurt out. "Shleep wish me tonight Sharlie. Shleep wish me."

"I don't think so." He gets up. "Come on, get under the blankets." He helps you under your covers, you still had your clothes on but you didn't care. You look up at him as he tucks you in and pats your broad chest. "Good night Jonathan."

You look up at him, your bleary eyes seeing only his face clearly. "I won't ever drink no more Sharlie. I won't if you don' want me to."

He smiles as he looks at you. "God you are so wasted. You don't even know what you're saying. Go to sleep Jonathan."

"What bout a shreesome? We could do zat right? I bet I could comvince Shamansa. You shaid you thought she's pretty." You were trying to make some bargain to get him into the sack somehow, but you were sounding like an idiot.

He shakes his head. "No thank you." He says in a soft patient voice.

You do your best to fix his gaze, staring right into those wonderful eyes of his. "I'll...I'll do anysing you want me to. Jusht ask."

He pats your chest. "Go to sleep Jonathan."

"You calls me Jonasan." You sigh. "Just...a kish? Just on tha sheek? ... Please." You turn your head to present your five o'clock shadowed cheek.

He leans over and gives you a gentle peck. You close your eyes and smile.

"Okay...breakfasht in tha morning?" You ask like you always did. You were starting to drift off already.

"I doubt you'll be in any condition." He says. "And I have to be out early."

You hum happily and say. "Mmm. Okay...breakfasht in tha morning then." Your confused drunken mind causes you to burble out non-consciously, just as you fade away. "Love you Sharlie."

You pass out.

The next day you surface in total agony, suffering one of the worst hangovers of your life. Your mouth was cotton, your head pounding, your eyelids sandpaper, you were in agony. You thought actually dying would probably feel better right now. The only small mercy is that you'd finally gotten around to getting curtains up the previous day.

Cracking your bloodshot eyes you look over...Charlie was gone. Off to the library or something no doubt. You were alone. The hazy memory of last night comes to you. The party, the girls, the revelry, the sneaking in, the...ohhh no! You moan in regret as you feel the complete fool. Oh Jesus, what must he think of you now?

Your eyes slowly focus closer to you.

On your desk beside your bed...an energy drink, a brand new thermos mug likely full of coffee, a fresh orange, and a bacon and egg breakfast bagel sandwich. You collapse back into your pillow and groan into it. "Oh my god...I don't deserve him..."

***

Two nights later it is Charlie's turn to be embarrassed. Unlike with you it was through no fault of his own.

It was Monday night. The day had gone by as it usually did. This week was a big one for you, the last soccer try out was on Thursday and you were starting to sharpen up for it. You were in good physical condition but being out of competitive soccer for a year had dulled your skills. You were starting to work on them with a few other guys you knew.

That night you get home tired, exhausted from a hard day's training. You shower and you talk with Charlie as you did. You tell him about the training and your classes. He tells you of his day. You were nervous for the try out but talking with your friend made all of that tension just go away. The pair of you do your talk in bed thing then you drift off to sleep.

You are woken by the sound of thrashing and movement on the other side of the room. You hear whimpering and whining and rapid breathing. Something was wrong!

Sitting up you turn on your bedside lamp. Charlie was sat up in his bed. He was shaking all over, his arms trembling out in front of him. His eyes were wide, confused, terrified. They dart around the room but you get the sense they are not seeing what you are seeing. He was up and his eyes were open but you got the sense he was trapped in some horrible dreamscape. He is almost hyperventilating. The light only seemed to intensify his delirium.

He gasps. "What...what's happening? Where...? Where...?"

You sit staring at him. You had no idea what to do. Do you wake him? You'd heard something about that being bad. You'd never had to deal with anything like this before.

"Charlie?" You whisper.

He doesn't hear you.

He turns and starts scrambling through some books beside his bed. He is whimpering. He is so frightened. "I'm...I'm trying...I'm trying...I'll do better...I'll do better..." His motions get even more desperate, he claws and tears at the books looking for who knows what. He is talking fast, berating himself viciously. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry Mom...I'm sorry...I'm so stupid...I'm so stupid...everyone knows that...they see it...I know, I can tell...I'm so stupid...I'm so stupid...I hate myself!"

He was so frightened, so very frightened, so hopelessly alone in his plight.

Your heart was breaking watching this. You simply couldn't just sit there and do nothing. You get out of bed and take the step across to his side of the room. Sitting on the edge of his bed you take him by his slender shoulders, turning him carefully away from the books he was clawing at.

You say in a slow gentle voice. "Charlie, Charlie, wake up. Wake up. Everything is okay, you're having a dream. Charlie."

He is trembling, his confused eyes looking at you but not really seeing you. He begs at you. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'll do better!"

You bring him in to a big warm embrace. His small shaking hands are ice cold against your bare chest. He shakes and shivers. You just hold him, saying soothingly over and over. "It's just a dream. Wake up Charlie. It's just a dream."

Slowly...slowly...slowly...his breathing begins to return to normal. After a time you hear him moan woefully. "Ohhhh noooooo."

This time it was really Charlie, he was awake.

"Oh no, I had one of my episodes didn't I? Oh my god." He rests his head on your shoulder. "I am SO sorry Jonathan. I am so so sorry."

"It's okay." You assure him. You pull back, still holding him by the shoulders. "Are you okay Charlie?"

He can't even meet your gaze. He was humiliated. Utterly humiliated at his show of weakness. His head was bowed and his shoulders slumped. He whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I woke you up."

You smile. "Please stop apologizing. It's okay, really."

He is quiet for a time, the pair of you just sitting together in the silence. He finally says. "I...I haven't gotten...a counselor down here yet." He still can't meet your eyes, he was so embarrassed. "I've...I've got...they call it impostor syndrome...I've got that among other things. I'm sorry, I'm so fucked up." That was the first time you'd heard him swear. "I should have warned you. You don't need a fucked up friend like me."

You lean forward and hug him again. "Oh yes I do." You say firmly. "It is okay. We're all fucked up one way or another."

He takes a deep shuddering breath. "I'll go get a therapist tomorrow. You don't need to see this. They can put me on drugs...I don't like them but...I can..."

You pull back again. With the tips of your fingers you touch his soft chin and you guide his face to look at yours. He tries to evade but eventually he finally looks into your eyes. You say with the utmost sincerity. "It is okay Charlie. Okay? You don't have to go on drugs if you don't want to. I don't mind. Not one bit. Don't feel bad. Okay? If you let me know what I can do I'll help where I can. Okay? I don't mind. Do you believe me Charlie?"

He is looking at you, unsure of what to say.

"Do you believe me Charlie?" You ask again in a gentle tone.

He nods slowly. "I believe you Jonathan."

You smile. "Okay." You hug him once more. He lets out a long sigh as he rests his head on your big chest, you feel the fear and tension slowly release from his body as you hold him in your strong arms. You stroke the soft pajama fabric along his back. You feel like you could hold him like this forever. You just wished you could shield him from the demons he had inside himself.

You sit with him for close to an hour. Just talking. Just being there.

"Do you need me to stay with you tonight?" You ask, not a hint of sexuality in your genuine offer.

He shakes his head. "I'll be okay. Thank you."

Finally, when he is ready, you hug one last time and you return to your bed. You turn off your bedside lamp.

Darkness...silence.

"Charlie."

"Yes Jonathan."

"Breakfast in the morning?"

There is silence. Then through a little sniffle you hear. "Always."

"Good night Charlie."

"Good night Jonathan."

***

The next morning things are back to normal, if anything your friendship had been taken to another level. You'd known him a week and he was easily your best friend, there wasn't even a close second. He was so different from the buddies you grew up with or the new pals you'd met at University. With them it was all about getting out and doing things, having fun, talking about shared interests. You had good friends but you only now were realizing it was all very surface level. With Charlie it was something else entirely.

Another day goes by and now you were starting to spend more time with Charlie than your other friends. You were still getting ready for the tryouts but you were now specifically making extra time for him. Even just sitting quietly with him as you both did school work was nice. You even go to a symposium with him where they were debating a variety of religious and philosophical issues. Nothing to do with Biology but you were learning Charlie had a wide array of interests. You sat patiently, only partially understanding most of what was said. These people had a language all their own. Suddenly you were the quiet one and Charlie the talker. You watched him proudly as he engaged.

By getting to know him you were starting to get a sense of just how smart he really was. He was smart. So smart. So fucking smart! But he was so humble about it that it was easy to miss. He never ever showed off or made others feel lesser than him, but he would always rise to any intellectual topic no matter what it was. Whether it be with fellow students or professors or visiting lecturers you began to realize that he was always the smartest guy in the room, yet nobody else realized it. He would always make others feel smart and even give credit to them for his ideas, which they would always accept without hesitation. He was a wonder to behold.

It is Wednesday night, the night before the big try out. You knew college soccer would be as far as you'd get if you were lucky enough to make it, but you sure wanted to give it a good try. You take it easy on the training ground, sticking with some passing and a light workout. You wanted to be fresh for tomorrow. You get in sweaty but still full of energy.

As you walk through the common room you notice a big whiteboard had been put up and a table with everyone's name was up on it. Some joker had started a pool on a variety of things that might happen in the year to come. Only five dollars to enter. You see the various categories. "Most likely to get arrested." "Most likely to flunk out." "Most likely to pass out in public." "Most likely to lose their virginity." and other jokey things. You see your name on there a few times for different things. The final column catches your eye. "Most likely NOT to lose their virginity." Under this heading you see the same name again and again. Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. You grit your teeth. Fucking assholes. You look at the ever present Luiz who was sitting in his usual place, did he even have classes? He just shrugs. "Five bucks if you want in."

You shake your head and go to your room.

As you enter you see your roommate on his bed. He had his laptop beside him and papers laid out all around him. He was neck deep in some project or another.

You point over your shoulder. "Hey, sorry about that stupid pool out there. Don't listen to them."

He looks up. "Huh? Oh that." He smiles. "I don't care." He just laughs it off. "They're probably right."

You glance over the papers on his bed. You can't help but notice they are soccer related. You see positional charts and print outs of stats and figures. On the screen of his computer you see a paused grainy video of a soccer game.

With a suspicious tone you ask. "Whatcha doing Charlie?"

He looks around and starts organizing some of the papers. "I've been looking at some of your game footage and digging into your stats. I did a comparative analysis with other players of your level then corrected and compensated for a few factors. It didn't help that you are from such a small town."

You stand perplexed. "What?"

He finds one of the papers he had been looking for and points at it. "Here it is. You said you weren't good enough to go pro. I checked it out. Given the data I was able to get my hands on, and more than a little informed guess work, I'd say you actually have a decent shot. Comparatively speaking."

"What?" You weren't processing what he was saying.

"Sure. I mean it would be hard, but I've found various examples of players who were once at your level that made it." He looks up at you again and smiles. "You're right. You are good. Really good. Europe might be tough but the MLS is a possibility, maybe even the national team."

"I...I don't...huh?" He may as well have been speaking Latin.

He continues. "I was looking at your game film, what I could find anyways, and comparing it to the raw numbers and a scout report I was able to dig up I think I might have something. It is your positioning. You've got the skills, you've got the physicality and the conditioning, your passing is phenomenal. You just get dragged out of position too easily. Not good, especially for a defensive mid. And you are too willing to just clear the ball when you could play it out instead. Probably due to lousy coaching. These are things that aren't too hard to correct."

"Charlie...what are you talking about?"

He laughs. "Soccer, football, what do you think I'm talking about?"

You say in a stunned voice, repeating the phrase you'd drilled into your head over and over again during the last year. "I'm...I'm not that good Charlie. Even Sam says so."

"Well...I think you could be." He looks up at you with a bright grin, his eyes lock on yours. He says in an innocuous happy matter of fact sort of way. "I believe in you."

You are hit with a thunderbolt that nearly knocks you back a step. "What...did you say?"

He laughs at your stunned look. "I said I believe in you. If you really really want it I think you can do it. With a lot of hard work of course." He adds. "There are no guarantees obviously." There is a moment of silence as everything sinks in.

"HA HA HA!" You cry out. Rushing forward you scoop him in your arms and spin him around, papers go flying in all directions. He laughs and giggles and the unexpected excitement. He throws his arms around your neck and holds on for dear life as you whoop and laugh and spin.

You were on top of the world. A dream you thought dead and buried was rekindled once more. In these past few minutes he had done more than any coach or motivational speaker ever could. It wasn't the stats or the analysis, as nice as that had all been, it was his belief in you that made you feel suddenly invincible.

You set him down in front of you. Looking at the papers all around you say. "This must have taken you forever! Why..." You don't ask the question, you already knew the answer. He just smiles.