“I ENVY you, watching you,” Charlie said. “You’re such an extrovert.”
Charlie couldn’t have surprised Tory any more. “Me?”
“Yes!”
“I think of myself as a forced-extrovert introvert. This ain’t natural, baby. It’s taken years of practice. I just found out there were things I wanted very much, and so I had to learn to put myself out there. I’m scared every time.”
He could see that surprised Charlie. And that he had no idea how scared Tory was right now.
They talked about their parents. They’d both been through a lot there.
They talked about their favorite music. Charlie liked Michael Bublé, and wow, showed him that the singer was a lot more than “Haven’t Met You Yet.” He sang a lot of music in the style of that Frank Sinatra guy, who Tory had thought a bit corny. But Charlie showed him something he hadn’t seen before. Heard before. Really amazing music that showed a mind-blowing vocal range.
And now Charlie was listening to Sia, the singer he’d only known before as “that lady who did the lovely song from Finding Dory.” Now he knew she did songs like “Chandelier,” and “Elastic Heart,” and “Diamonds.”
But the one he loved the most was “Titanium.”
“I know I’ve heard this song before,” Charlie had said that Sunday afternoon, watching a YouTube video with lyrics on Tory’s cell phone. Was it only last week? That seemed impossible to believe. “But these words! They’re… they could be… they’re….”
“Yes?” Tory asked.
There were tears wet on Charlie’s face, and for once Tory was oblivious to what was going on around him. The people, the customers at their… well, his table.
(But thinking of the table as theirs had felt really nice there for a moment, hadn’t it?)
“These words.” Softly. Tory could barely hear him over the commotion of the room. “These words….” Charlie wiped his eyes. “I’m bulletproof, she says. T-telling people to t-take aim, to go ahead and fire away….”
And then Tory realized there were tears in his eyes. “Because I’ve got not a thing to lose…,” Tory paraphrased (because after all, sometimes it was hard to understand what Sia said).
“I’m titanium, Tory. I must be. How else have I made it this long? And I think you are too.”
But it wasn’t until the next week that Charlie finally told him what that meant.
They were at Tory’s place, the basement, class. Gay hadn’t been able to make it. Neither had Karey (but she had finished all her teapots, and experience had taught Tory not to be surprised if he never saw her again). Not his neighbor either. Only Shirley had shown, with her heavy-handed brush and her snow people, but she ran out the door when he assured her she could pick them up in two days. There wouldn’t be another class before Christmas. The next Tuesday was Christmas Eve.
Charlie had been very evasive whenever he talked about his ex. Tory had gotten the idea the guy really hurt him, that it wasn’t all that long ago things had ended, so he hadn’t asked.