Michael realized his father must have told her that he was born in England but grew up across the pond, as the natives say. “Thank you, it feels good to be home.”
What didn’t feel good was Brania’s hand. Yes, hers was soft and delicate, but Michael much preferred the strength of Ronan’s grip and how his hand almost covered his own.
“May I freshen up before dinner, please?” Brania asked.
“Of course, dear, right in there,” Vaughan said, pointing to the door past the kitchen.
She could spend an hour in the bathroom freshening up and he still wouldn’t find her as attractive as Ronan. Funny, he thought, he’d been here for less than a week and already he was able to admit more about himself than ever before. He liked acquiring this self-knowledge. It made him feel more in control of himself. He was amazed at how suddenly that control could be stolen away.
“Brania is the daughter of the wealthiest real estate mogul and land developer in Great Britain,” Vaughan whispered. “And the girl I’d like you to marry.”
Even after they had begun eating their first course, a thick tomato soup, Michael was still reeling from his father’s comment. Marry? Was his father insane? First of all, he was only sixteen, and even if he was inclined to marry, which he wasn’t, a wedding date wouldn’t be set for another five, maybe ten years. It was a bit premature to tell your sixteen-year-old son you want him to marry a girl he just met, a girl whose company he had been in for less than an hour, especially when your son had no intention of ever marrying a girl. Michael would have thought it was hysterically funny if he hadn’t caught the undercurrent of seriousness in his father’s voice. He truly wanted Michael to marry Brania. Well, that wasn’t going to happen, so Michael told himself to just get through the dinner and this whole evening could be forgotten.
Once he made the decision never to see Brania again or discuss the topic with his father, he was able to relax a bit more. Until they were just about to eat their steaks and Vaughan’s cell phone rang.
“Excuse me, you two, this is Tokyo. Problem with an overnight delivery at the factory; shouldn’t take too long.”
In spite of the rumbling in his stomach, Michael took a large bite of steak. If he was chewing, he couldn’t talk.
“I think it’s sweet,” Brania said.
So much for not talking. “The problem in Tokyo?” Michael said, trying not to speak with his mouth full.
Brania smiled a bit condescendingly. “No, silly, our fathers trying to set us up. It’s sweet. A bit old-fashioned, but sweet nonetheless, don’t you think?” Brania’s tone of voice matched her smile. She was definitely a girl who was reared in a lofty circle. Her actions, however, were a bit more primitive. Peering at Michael, she used her tongue to flick a drop of blood that clung to her fork, swallowing it as if it were a thick piece of meat. Please, God, don’t let her be flirting with me, Michael prayed. When Ronan did it, he was nervous, but also excited. Now he was just downright unnerved.
He swallowed hard and felt the unchewed piece of steak travel down his throat with difficulty. “I don’t think that’s what they’re trying to do.”
Brania smirked haughtily and let her fork fall onto her plate, disrupting the air with a noisy clang. “Don’t be a child. We both know what they’re doing. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“A boyfriend?”
Taken aback, Michael scoffed at such a suggestion. “No! Of course not.”
Folding her napkin precisely and placing it over her uneaten steak, Brania had her answer. “You really should learn not to give yourself away so easily.”
Where was that control I was just feeling? Michael thought. And how dare she say these things to me? Who does she think she is? “I … I don’t know what you think you know.”
“Have you ever been with a girl?” Brania asked, interrupting and ignoring Michael’s comment.
“Yes. I mean, well, no, not exactly.” Michael hemmed and hawed. Why was his mouth suddenly so incredibly dry? “It’s really, um, it’s really not any of your business.”
Again that condescending smile. Michael couldn’t tell if she liked him or thought he was the stupidest creature on the face of the earth. She rested her chin in the palm of her hand and would have looked bored if not for the determination in her eyes. “May I give you some advice?” Michael didn’t answer because he knew Brania wasn’t asking for permission. “Don’t make any decisions regarding your gender preference until you’ve tested them both out. There are only two, so it really shouldn’t take you very long.”
When Vaughan returned to the table, he either didn’t see Michael’s shocked expression or he ignored it. “Situation Tokyo under control,” Vaughan announced. “Ready for dessert?”
At precisely ten thirty Vaughan’s cell phone rang again. This time it wasn’t a business emergency, just the driver announcing that it was time for him to drive Michael back to the academy. “It was a pleasure meeting you both,” Brania said before leaving to go to her room, which was located on the first floor of the hotel. “I hope to see more of you, Michael.”
Although Michael told her that he hoped they could too, he didn’t mean it. What he didn’t know was that Brania was the type of privileged girl who always got everything she wanted.
Beaming, Vaughan gripped Michael by the shoulders and smiled. “You’ve made me so proud tonight, son.” Michael felt uneasy. The only reason he made him feel proud was because he didn’t tell him exactly what he thought about his ludicrous ideas about marriage. “You’d make me even happier if you invited Brania to that Archangel Festival they have at your school,” Vaughan said.
“Um, maybe, I’ll, um, think about it,” Michael mumbled.
“Good man.”
Michael had no intention of thinking about Brania, marriage, or taking her to the festival. All he wanted to do was get back to school, to the place where he felt he belonged.
The countryside was invisible in the darkness. Michael looked out the window but couldn’t see a thing. He grabbed one of his books that he left in the car, thinking he should use his time wisely to catch up on some homework and not ponder what to do about Ronan or his father or even Brania. But he wouldn’t get any work done. When he opened his geometry book, a piece of paper fell out, the paper Ronan had given him after class. Heart beating faster, he slowly opened up the folded parchment and saw that it was a drawing, a quick sketch that Ronan must have done while Father Fazio was rambling on about triangles. The tears fell before Michael even felt them gather, dropping off his cheeks and onto the paper below. He was looking at a drawing of himself. It wasn’t an exact likeness; it really wasn’t even that good, but it was drawn by Ronan’s hand. It was Michael’s face with his green eyes and his blond hair, contained within a picture frame. Underneath the drawing were the words The Picture of Michael Howard. Next to them he had written Forever beautiful, Forever mine.
Ronan was Oscar Wilde and Michael, his very own creation.
chapter 9
Ronan had a bad feeling. He woke up knowing that something was wrong and that something terrible was about to happen. He wished he could ignore it; he wished he could convince himself that his mind was being manipulated by something other than instinct, but long ago he had learned to trust his intuition. Especially when it sensed danger.
To make matters worse, he knew that at the center of his apprehension was Michael. Ronan shivered. It’s already started. I’ve already drawn him into a world where he is unsafe, into a world that he will never comprehend and that will disgust him. It’s a world that I belong to, and sometimes, not always, but sometimes, it even makes me wish I had never been created.
Maybe I shouldn’t have glanced his way in the moonlight, Ronan thought. Maybe I should have just kept walking, alone, the way I was meant to live. No. No! That is not how my life was meant to be; none of us were meant to live like that. He reminded himself what his mother had always told him: “Our people may be different, Ronan, but we were meant to live, and the only way we know how to live is to love.”
Ronan looked at his reflection in the mirror. Despite the anxiety and fear that were growing deep within him, he couldn’t help but feel blessed that he was to be able to see his true image. He was grateful his eyes were a
