Saturday, May 05, 2007
New Beginning 273
At low volume the television relayed tales that would have been tall had they not been true; of genocide and war, of protests and layoffs, of dictators, terrorists, presidents, and celebrities. Charlie, in a half-sleep, his head lolled off his futon's edge, fumbled for the remote and clicked these things--off.
Through barely parted lashes Charlie saw, from afar, the beautiful, knowing eyes of his mentor, or tormentor, Bella di Verona. They were bored, those eyes, bored with Charlie. He'd looked to them so often for inspiration but lately got only oppression, and the feeling he failed the challenge they issued, a challenge he'd once relished: to know and create and to be, like her. She was perfect and timeless, and perfect because she was timeless and timeless because she was perfect. Original and startling and renowned--she was sublime. She was a poster on Charlie's wall, a cheap print of the famous painting: the sole self-portrait of Bella di Verona.
"I'm going to be king someday," he said to Bella di Verona, daring her to disagree, willing her to, so that he could argue, lion-like, that no one stayed the Prince of Wales forever; but the sublime woman on the wall said nothing.
Half-asleep beside him, Camilla murmured, "Of course you are, dear."
But Bella di Verona did not look convinced.
Opening: Dan.....Continuation: 150