“Let’s bring him out. Charlie Winshaw everybody!”
Jules gives him a quick pat on the back, and he steps out into the lights. The audience goes nuts. He can’t see them—the studio lights generously paint everyone in silhouette—but he can hear their screams. A high-pitched voice shouts, “Charlie, we love you!” A deeper one: “I’ll be your prince!”
He does a shy, double-handed wave in the direction of the darkened crowd. He knows he looks awkward. For once, he doesn’t care. “Oh, wow. Thank you, everyone! Thank you so much.”
He trips over the single step leading to the platform where Mark is waiting. The audience laughs, but he knows this time they’re laughing with him.
“Well, I’d say they’re excited to see you,” Mark Davenport jokes as they take their seats.
Charlie unfastens the button on his blazer and leans back casually on the couch. “Uh, are they?”
His nervousness is met with more applause, and isn’t it wild that his true self is the version of Charlie Winshaw people like the most?
“Welcome back to the show after being away for a while. How’s it been for you since the show finished filming?”
“It’s been…” Charlie starts. He takes a second, inhales three times. On the third exhale: “Well, for a while there, it was pretty shit, wasn’t it?”
Some of the audience members laugh. The rest make sounds of sympathy.
“It was tough in the beginning,” he admits honestly, because honesty is what the audience wants, and because being his most honest self is all Charlie wants. “Having your heart ripped out on national television kind of sucks. But thankfully, I made some amazing friends on this show. Angie and Daphne, but also crew members who’ve helped me get through it. Ultimately, I wouldn’t trade my experiences on this show for anything.”
Mark nods knowingly, because of course, he does know. Charlie emailed him his answers beforehand. “Talk to us about that.”
“As you all now know,” Charlie starts, gesturing to the audience, “I came on this show because I thought I had something to prove to the world. I was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder when I was twelve and diagnosed with a panic disorder in my late teens, but I grew up with a family that didn’t recognize, honor, or validate those parts of me. My family always made me feel like those aspects of my identity made me less worthy of happiness.
“When I started my journey on this show, I wanted to convince the world I was someone that I’m not, but ironically, my time on Ever After helped me become my more authentic self. I learned I deserve love—both platonic and romantic.”
The audience erupts in another round of boisterous applause. The feelings are his, but the words are mostly Parisa, who sat on his living room floor with him three nights ago, helping him find the right way to express what it’s all meant to him, being given permission to be himself.
“I know your goal was to work in tech again,” Mark asks, flawlessly rehearsed. “Has that happened?”
“I’ve had a few job offers, yes, but the truth is, my desire to work in tech stemmed from my belief that my profession was the measure of my worth. It never made me happy. I’ve realized the work we’re doing at the Winshaw Foundation is important, so I’m not looking for any other job opportunities at the moment.”
“Everyone in the Fairy-Tale Family is very proud of you, Charlie,” Mark says, transitioning smoothly. “But now let’s get to the stuff we actually care about.” The audience laughs. “Have you talked to Dev at all since filming ended?”
He feels his throat catch fire around the collar of his shirt, feels his chest constrict. He takes three deep breaths, drums his fingers against his knee, and answers. “No, I haven’t. I don’t think he wants to talk to me, but honestly, I think it’s for the best.”