Richard heard him snoring before long, and he understood that, despite the horrific energy, the fear, surrounding the incident, Charles had seen it differently. While everyone else was scared, weighing life and death, Charles was simply clutching a wooden dock, watching.

It was fascinating.

A silent handshake occurred deep within Richard’s mind. One hand belonged to himself, clearheaded, young. The other belonged to someone he might become, someone who understood that, if he were to walk away from Charles now, Charles would never find another friend to look out for him.

Falling asleep, Richard shook hands. And in doing so, agreed to stay.

5

“Are you inside the house?” Richard asked the green statue. “Did you come home after leaving my car? I thought you might come home.”

Earlier this night, the night Charles unloaded, Richard was at home, reading a psychology magazine on the couch. Charles called. He sounded anxious. He was stuttering…muttering…mumbling. Richard was alarmed. He’d never heard his old friend quite so…emotive. It sounded like Charles was going to open up, emotionally, really for the first time, and Richard wasn’t sure he was prepared to hear it.

Suddenly, holding the phone, he wished there was no swimmer in Charles at all, no depth to be plunged. No explanation.

But Richard, always the lone friend, always shaking hands, agreed to meet up.

They agreed upon downtown (Charles said, “I really need to talk to you, Richard. In person. I’ll take the bus. Lily and Neptune?”) and both arrived at the intersection just as the real rain dropped.

Richard didn’t know what to expect. With Charles it could have been anything. And he hadn’t given him any hints to go on. (“I’ll tell you everything when you get there, okay?”) But in the backest of his heart, Richard knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. The truth was, the tone of voice he’d heard over the phone was brand new to him. He hadn’t recognized it.

This was somehow the most fearful part.

Charles, huddled up in his jacket beneath the small pink awning over the front door of Goblin Games, came out of the shadows the second Richard pulled up. For a moment Charles the man was beside Charles the shadow, cast by the lamppost, distorted by rain, and Richard had difficulty telling the difference. Which was coming to get in his car?

“Thank you,” Charles said. He ran a wet hand through his wet hair. “Let’s just stay here. In the car.”

“What’s this about, Charles?”

Charles faced his friend, wide-eyed. Richard tried to locate him in there, but struggled.

“I think I’m in trouble, Richard. I think I’ve done something wrong. Something very very wrong.”

6

Later, standing before the topiary, outside Charles’s house, Richard thought back some more. Just a little more. Sifting through the shadows of their history, looking in the corners for clues.