Besides a massive hangover the following morning, the next day kicked off as normal as ever. Neither Anna or Bert expressed concern over Charlie's growing habit. If they had any, they kept it between themselves. Charlie wasn't sure if they appreciated that or if they were disappointed. Either way, it was just an overall good day to stay in their room and do absolutely nothing.
Sunday was virtually the same. If Charlie had a weekly planner, every Sunday would read the same. Wake up at noon, sit in bed for an hour contemplating the great mysteries of life, eventually get up and eat breakfast despite it being well after noon (optional step, try to convince Anna the night before to buy you an Egg Mcmuffin so it's there when you finally get up), watch YouTube videos until it's dark outside, feel a mild sense of regret but not enough that you stop completely the next week, then the regularly scheduled Sunday bout of anxiety.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
It had gotten to be about midway through the schedule and things were progressing accordingly. At about 3 in the afternoon, Charlie was sitting on their bed watching videos on their phone. If there was one thing the universe decided to bestow upon them, it was having the room with the best wi-fi in the apartment. Charlie considered it a small victory of epic proportions.
They'd gotten roped into a string of overly produced mainstream videos that they should've hated but couldn't stop watching. They weren't engrossed enough, however, to notice a muted humming noise. It could've just been the heater, but the heater usually kicked on at the other side of the apartment. This noise seemed to be coming from their closet.
Charlie felt a sinking feeling in their chest.
The humming grew louder, followed by a series of thumps.
"Are we doing Ghostbusters or Jumanji?" they blurted without thinking.
The humming grew into a rumbling that Charlie recognized way too easily. They knew they should've moved, but something stopped them. A morbid curiosity took control of their body without ever asking for consent.
Less than a minute passed. The noise died down. Charlie held their breath.
The closet door creaked. Which was weird, probably, as it was one of those sliding ones on the rollers. There was no reason for it to creak slowly open like the high-tension scene in a horror movie, and Charlie had certainly never seen it do that before. In spite of its unfamiliarity, the closet door slid open slowly, deliberately.
Charlie's heart rate ramped up in speed. From the other side of the door appeared a face they were familiar with, but not too happy to see.
"You again." Charlie wasn't sure how many times people used the phrase 'you again' in real life outside of books and movies, but there they were. Using that fucking bullshit cliché.
Harold looked a little more upbeat than Charlie. "Ah! Young hero, hello. It is good to see you once more. I've been sent here to summon you back to the Kingdom of Anteluvia. Are you ready to return? Or are you going to resist this time as well?"
Charlie was speechless. They wanted to jump out the window right there. This was not happening again.
"Young hero?"
They stuttered. "Y-you know what? Fine. Whatever. I'll go with you again. You just have to do one thing for me first."
"Anything," he nodded.
"Follow me." Charlie stood up off the bed and headed to the bedroom door.
They left their private space and took five very deliberate, very heavy steps to the room down the hall. They knocked a handful of times, fast enough to sound more like a hummingbird than a human at the door.
"Come in!" a male voice called.
The door swung open. "Bert, I need your help with something."
Bert sat at his makeshift desk wearing a headset. The same position Charlie saw him in nearly thirteen hours ago. "Yeah, man, what's up?"
Charlie stepped aside and motioned for Harold to stand in the doorway. "Please describe to me what you see here."
"What?"
"In great detail. Purple prose is preferred."
Bert looked to where Charlie's hands were pointed. "I'm confused."
"Bert, please cooperate."
He hesitated. "You want me to talk about someone right in front of them?"
Charlie felt a weight lift off their chest. "Yes, please. It's okay he doesn't mind."
Harold shook his head for reassurance.
He shrugged. "I just see a cool dude wearing some sweet LOZ duds. What's good, man?"
"Life and her many spoils are greater than good," the herald replied.
"Word."
Charlie exhaled out loud. "Oh thank god."
"Yeah, man. It's definitely Link, but more Wind Waker than Breath of the Wild. Is there a comic con in town today?"
They waved them off. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Listen, Bert, I'm going to go out for a bit. If Anna asks, tell her I'm at my mom's or something."
He scoffed. "Yeah, sure, like she'll believe that."
Charlie frowned. "Just make something up. I should be back by tonight."
He'd already turned his attention back to his game. "Alright, man. Have fun."
They closed the door behind them.
"Are you ready to depart now?" Harold spoke up.
"Yeah, okay. Just let me get my shoes first. And I'm just going for my shoes, so no need to hit me with the powdered roofie again, okay?"
"Understood."
Charlie finished getting ready and went back to their room without any protest. Well, without any audible protest. Internally, they were constantly debating themself on whether this was really a good idea, how many things could go wrong, how many things would go wrong, and a tangential speculation on what the bathrooms over there were like.
Harold stood between Charlie and the closet door. "Ready to enter?"
Charlie looked on to the view within the closet. It was dark, not like the milky blue pool that replaced the space inside of their fridge the last time. The lack of light filtering into the space and the ajar door gave the impression the the unobservant eye that it was just a regular closet.
"Aw, man. I haven't been back there in years."
The joke was lost on him. Charlie admitted it was kind of overdone anyway.
Without further questioning, the herald slid the door all the way open, increased lighting revealing hints of a rippling blue pool where their shirts had once been. He jumped in without any hesitation.
Charlie bounced in their shoes. They needed to hype themself up for this. They squeezed their eyes shut and jumped in. Well, by jumped it, they meant sort of put their back to the light and leaned back until they sort-of, kind-of fell in. Their back hit a smooth surface first, with the rest of their body following. Charlie transitioned their hands to over their eyes so they didn't totally pass out again, no intention of getting a view of wherever they had fallen into.
"You alright there?" Harold spoke over the low, ambient noises.
"Yeah, great. Just let me know when it's over."
"It gets better the more times you do it," he assured.
They didn't move. "You know, I'm just going to have to take your word for it."
There was no more time for idling conversation. Bright light filtered in between the cracks in their fingers and through their eyelids. It didn't bother them much this time, but they still weren't going to risk uncovering their eyes.
After a minute or two, the rolling ambient sounds died down and finished with a loud thunk.
The bright light had dissipated.
YOU ARE READING
The Incredibly Consequential Life of Charlie Zappala
FantasíaThey don't make fantasy heroes like Charlie Zappala... And there's a good reason for that. There never seemed to be a market growing up for mentally-ill, nonbinary disaster bisexuals, but Charlie probably would have benefitted from that. After a lif...
