old soul | matthew gray gubler

38. too much faith

Charlotte swiped through photos of Matthew for two hours straight, taking in every detail as he aged through the pages. His mother recounted many stories of bee stings, Halloween parties, even on sad tale about no one showing up for his tenth birthday. Charlotte listened thoughtfully, allowing herself to speak only when she had a similar story ("I've never been stung by a bee!") or 'mhm's and 'oh's. She knew he was a strange man, and he had told her about his weirdness as a child. But this entire experience just solidified how odd he was. It was enlightening, though, to see a man who has always been so fearlessly himself.

Marilyn asked her about her own life after they made it through the fifth photo album. Charlotte began with, "Well, I grew up with my grandma-"

"No, no," Marilyn squeezed Charlotte's knee. "You and I both know he's told me all of that. Tell me a story."

Charlotte laughed, exchanging a look with Matthew who shrugged. She searched through her memory and found this, "When I was little, I wanted to own a hotel in France. Sounds silly, I thought acting was way overrated. Sometimes I hated my grandma for raising me instead of letting my aunt take care of me. It was cool being related to a famous person, but often it was annoying. Movie premiers, flying to random cities in the middle of the week. She put me in all kinds of private lessons; French, Spanish, Violin, ballet and tap, singing lessons, piano, guitar. The only thing that I ever enjoyed doing was French."

Matthew, who was sitting on the armchair across the gray rug of the living room, leaned forward. He cradled a mug of coffee, leg crossed over the other. Marilyn smiled throughout Charlotte's words, encouraging her to continue by asking, "Why the hotel?"

"I was kinda secluded as a kid. I was homeschooled, barely knew my family, had to keep out of the eye of the public because of her fame. So, I vowed that when I grew up I would meet all kinds of people from all over the world and just socialize, I guess," Charlotte chuckled softly.

"Now look at you," Matthew interjected, "kinda quiet and 60 at-heart."

Charlotte shot him a look and he laughed. Marilyn glanced between the two, feeling as though she were intruding on a moment they should only be sharing. They often made people feel that way, but not on purpose. There was just something about the way they looked at each other. Their eyes were both dark in color, Matthew's a big lighter than Charlotte's shade. But, in the same way that darkened eyes glinted in the sunlight, light that came from seemingly nowhere sparkled in their pupils, dilating the center. Their smiles would linger, ghost across their lips and leaving imprints in their cheeks for moments after that singular glance. The stare, usually never more than a few seconds, felt like a few years to anybody watching. The air would shift, the cosmos aligning. It was plain love. Adoration for the human being they were looking at.

Marilyn chuckled, breaking the gaze. "You have no room to talk, Matthew. You're like a mixture of your grandfather and your nephew."

"The toddler or the baby?" Charlotte teased. She titled her hair towards Marilyn, bun shifting on her head.

Marilyn's left eye shot her a wink. "Both."

Matthew guffawed, "That's so rude of both of you."

Marilyn continued to laugh while Charlotte waved a hand at him. "Listen, if you try to come for me, your mother will protect me. She loves me, I am her favorite child now."

Marilyn laughed harder, her hand catching Charlotte's wrist. Charlotte leaned towards her with giggles bubbling from her lips. "It's funny, but its true!" Marilyn spoke through her laughter.