A Prince and his Pauper - Epilogue

The movie dropped in late spring here in Australia, which meant it was coming into winter for the northern-hemisphere countries – which were considered to be the main market, apparently – and for a while there, it felt like the whole world was watching us. Or more specifically, watching Charlie.

Trailers flooded YouTube and were played in cinemas, posters went up everywhere. Newspapers, magazines and social media were flooded with advertising, and Charlie’s schedule became stacked with interviews and rushed trips to far-flung places. But most of this happened even before opening night, which was a gala affair; a World Premier, at the small regional cinema in the town where the sandstone castle we filmed at was located.

The first time we saw the trailer at our local cinema, when the two of us, along with Brad and Danny, had gone along one night to see the latest shoot-em-up cop movie that was all the rage, I could feel Charlie cringe in the seat beside me.

‘Be brave, My Prince,’ I whispered to him. The sheepish grin he flashed me told me he was okay . . . just a bit embarrassed, perhaps, at seeing himself onscreen again. Maybe he should consider himself lucky that the scene where he and Barnabus were skinny-dipping in the river – or the scene where they really did kiss – hadn’t been included in the trailer. The ribbing about that would come later.

Upon leaving the cinema that night he stayed between me and Brad, trying to stay out of sight as best he could, but we could tell by the looks some of the other cinema goers were giving us, there were quite a few people thinking to themselves that he looked familiar, while at least some were already convinced that the boy in the foyer, drinking Pepsi and eating popcorn, was in fact the boy they had seen in the trailer. After all, rumours of some local kid starring in a movie had been floating around for a while now.

On opening night, Charlie wore a fitted black suit and a shy smile. He looked every bit the movie star. I was there in the crowd – after all, I wasn’t a star – but I was watching from the sidelines as he walked the red carpet between gold, velvet ropes, while cameras flashed and reporters were calling his name.

‘Charlie! Over here!’

‘Charlie, how does it feel to be the youngest lead in a major Australian film?’

‘Charlie, can you tell us what it was like playing such an emotional role — especially with those romantic undertones?’

That last question made him flinch, but only slightly.

He smiled that careful, rehearsed smile I knew too well. ‘It’s just acting,’ he said. ‘It’s a story about love and duty, not about labels. You know . . . universal themes that exist everywhere, even today!’

A few journalists pushed harder, but he stayed composed . . . just as he had been taught to do . . . always circling back to ‘the art,’ ‘the story,’ and ‘the message of acceptance.’ Never about himself. Never about us.

I enjoyed being the boy in the crowd here, and taking it all in. I was looking forward to telling him later about some of the things people around me had said.

The film exploded, just as predicted. Critics called it haunting, brave, timeless. Viewers flooded social media with quotes and fan edits . . . even some fan-fiction surfaced, which we both really enjoyed in private, but cringed at when it was mentioned publicly.

But with the praise, also came the speculation. And the gossip. And at times I could feel Charlie struggling with this, even if he continued to put on a brave face.

Young star dodges question about on-screen intimacy!

Is Charlie Brown as gay as the Prince he played?

Mystery surrounds rising star’s private life!

While others would come to Charlie’s defence, with statements like, ‘For fuck’s sake, he’s just a kid!’ these were in the minority, and the barbs still stuck.

Each time, Charlie would bravely try to brush it off. But each headline made my stomach twist.

‘It’s fine,’ he’d tell me over the phone, from wherever he happened to be that night. Sometimes it was New Zealand. Sometimes England, or some other snow-covered country in Europe. Then there was America. ‘It’s the same everywhere, Bray. They’re more interested in a scandalous story, than talking about the movie. But I’m not giving them one.’

I could still hear the strain in his voice, however. And yet, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Eventually, the hysteria died down. Charlie came home and was treated like a rock star at school and in town. Girls were swooning, making guys jealous, but Charlie was still Charlie. My Charlie. And even though his absence had been painful, I was more in love with him now than ever.

The quiet was most welcome, once things had died down. Life got back to normal once more. We got to be kids again. And then the rumours started about the upcoming awards season.

We were both sixteen now . . . that’s how long the whole process had taken, from start to finish. We hadn’t long turned fourteen when filming had begun, then it had been well over a year before we saw that first viewing, the finished product, and then the long wait until the awards season.

With the movie having taken on a life of its own, the names of the principal players were on everyone’s lips. There was talk of nominations. Best Director. Best New Talent. Best Supporting Actress. Best Costumes. Best Screen Adaptation. Maybe even Best Picture. The rumours became real, and suddenly all the nominations – real ones – came in, along with invitations to overseas festivals.

I got to see most of this from afar, grabbing clips on news programs and social media, while Charlie moved through it all like someone walking a tightrope: graceful, smiling, and always on guard.

When interviewers asked about dating, he’d laugh lightly and shake his head. ‘Oh, no. There’s no time for that. I’m just focused on work and reading all the scripts that they keep sending me.’

When tabloids hinted about his private life, he’d shrug. ‘People can think what they want. I’m trying to be an actor, not a headline.’

But sometimes, late at night, he’d call me from hotel rooms after press junkets.

‘Bray?’

‘Yeah, babe?’

‘Do you ever think they’ll just . . . stop asking?’

‘Maybe,’ I’d say. ‘When they realise it doesn’t matter.’

He’d sigh. ‘But it does matter, though. To them. And to everyone else out there who wants to know the answer, no matter the reason why they want to know.’

And it matters to him, I knew. But for entirely different reasons.

And then came the night that changed everything, yet again.

Two sixteen-year-olds standing side by side in a hotel suite overlooking Darling Harbour, both wearing rented suits, pressed and ready, along with shiny black shoes, while feeling too grown-up for who we still were inside. Charlie’s father and Nan were in the adjoining room, where they would be watching the ceremony, although they had still threatened to come downstairs to stand outside the adjoining convention centre, where the awards were being held, and embarrass us on the red carpet.

The weird thing was, we would be arriving in a limo, with a carefully orchestrated plan laid out for us . . . being picked up in the underground car park and secretly driven out, past the crowds, then a quick lap around a few blocks, before finally pulling up at the end of the red carpet, where fans and media would be waiting.

Here in the room, however, nerves were jangling, at least for one of us. Charlie was adjusting his tie in the mirror for the fifth time, while muttering under his breath. ‘Too tight. Always too tight.’

I came up behind him and fixed it for him. ‘You look perfect.’

‘Perfect?’ he scoffed. ‘I look like a penguin who swallowed a broom handle.’

‘You look like someone about to win an award.’

He smiled faintly. ‘You’re biased.’

‘Obviously.’

We’d been dancing around each other all evening, both knowing there was something simmering underneath: an old and familiar tension, the thing neither of us wanted to name.

When he turned from the mirror, his face was tight. ‘Bray, can I ask you something? Just . . . promise not to get weird about it.’

‘Sure.’

He hesitated, then said quietly, ‘If anyone asks tonight — just remember you’re my friend, okay?’

I knew the words would come, but they still hit like a slap, even though I tried to hide it. We’d had this conversation often enough over the last couple of years.

‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘I know the drill. But I was in the movie too, you know. I have a legitimate reason to be there. They did read out the nominations for Best Extra, didn’t they?’

‘It’s not like that,’ he said quickly. ‘You know I just can’t . . .’

‘Ssshhh. I know,’ I quickly cut in, while stepping in close and placing a finger over his lips. ‘I get it. Best friend from school. That’s me.’

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just . . .’

‘Babe, don’t sweat it,’ I said, forcing a smile, while reaching up and briefly toying with the lapels of his jacket.

The silence that followed said everything we couldn’t.

‘Fuck, I love you,’ Charlie eventually whispered.

‘Not as much as I love you, Mr Best New Talent!’

The TV in the corner was playing live coverage of the red carpet. I checked the socials on my phone. Charlie’s name was already trending again.

‘Are you nervous?’ I asked.

He shrugged. ‘I should be used to it by now. Smile, shake hands, deny everything. Rinse and repeat.’

I didn’t answer. The silence stretched once more, comfortable, but full of everything we couldn’t say out loud.

He turned from the mirror, his eyes softer. ‘Hey,’ he said quietly. ‘Thanks for sticking with me through all of this. I know it’s been weird.’

I smiled, even though my chest hurt. ‘Weird’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?’

He stepped closer, his fingers reaching up and briefly toying with the lapels of my jacket this time, before stepping back again. ‘One day,’ he said, ‘I’ll be brave enough to stop all this pretending.’

I swallowed hard. ‘You don’t have to rush it. We have each other and who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks. You don’t have to come out for me, or for anyone else.’

He looked at me then, the way he used to in the wings before curtain call: confused, scared and brave all at the same time.

‘You ready?’ I asked.

‘As I’ll ever be.’

And together we left the room, our reflections fading in the mirror – two boys in hired suits, one carrying the world’s expectations, the other carrying his heart, while making our way to the next door room and banging on the door. The door was opened by Nan, who beamed at the sight of us, with Mr Brown joining her moments later.

‘My, my! Who are these two handsome boys? I think you must have the wrong room, gentlemen.’

‘Knock it off, Nan. We’re heading down to the basement for our ride now.’

‘Oh, Charlie. I hope you have a wonderful night. And it doesn’t matter whether you win or don’t win, we’re all just so proud of you . . . of both of you! We just want you to know that.’

‘Thank you, Nan. It’s just amazing that we’re even here, so we’re going to make the most of it,’ Charlie replied, before hugging his grandmother, and then his father. Then it was my turn, and moments later we were heading for the elevators.

The car ride to the awards was quiet, and short, just the hum of tyres on asphalt and the flash of city lights through tinted windows. My phone rang just as we set out, and I saw that it was my mother, so I quickly answered it, while also putting it on speaker.

‘Hey, mum. You’re on speaker. We’re on our way . . . in a limo of all things!’

‘Oh, honey. It’s so exciting! We’ll be watching for you both on the TV, of course. And Charlie, best of luck. We all hope you bring home the gold!’

‘Thank you, Mrs P. I hope so too!’ Charlie replied.

‘Good luck, boys. And don’t get starstruck on the red carpet,’ my father added. ‘We love you guys!’

‘Love you too,’ we both answered, and then they were gone.

When we came to a stop outside the convention centre entrance just a minute or so later, a healthy crowd was waiting at the entrance: fans, reporters, photographers. The red carpet glowed under floodlights. The air hummed with excitement, which hit us like a wave just as soon as we pulled up and the doors were opened for us.

‘Charlie! Charlie Brown! Over here!’

He stepped out, blinding flashes erupting all around him. Cameras clicked. Voices shouted his name. He turned, waved, smiled, The perfect young star.

Then someone called out, ‘Who’s that with you, Charlie?’

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing back at me and smiling, before saying smoothly, ‘This is my best friend from school, Brayden. He’s my plus one. And he’s the one who encouraged me to audition in the first place. But he’s also in the movie too, you know!’

And there it was.

THE line.

Delivered perfectly.

Reporters smiled. Cameras whirred. And just like that, the mask slid neatly back into place.

We walked the red carpet, and it was the strangest thing I had ever experienced. Flashes going off. People calling out names. We were with the other cast members as we walked, so at least we all had each other.

An arm snaked through mine and I turned to see Rachel there with us, smiling at me.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ she asked, with a laugh.

‘This is fucking crazy,’ I replied, as I spotted Charlie signing autographs, before Lily threaded her arm through his, and they walked the line of fans for a short time, chatting and smiling and having their photos taken.

‘Soak it up, Brayden. Your boy is going to a see a lot of nights like these!’

My head snapped her way and I could almost feel my eyes bulging out of their sockets.

‘It’s alright, sweetheart. The only people who care are those out there, on the other side of those ropes. Everybody walking here, with us, is on your side,’ she said. ‘You just tell him that from me, won’t you.’

And then she quickly kissed me on the cheek, before disappearing into the crowd of red-carpet walkers.

With famous faces everywhere it would have been easy to be starstruck: actors, directors, producers – most of whom we had only ever seen on our screens, or in the newspapers or online, and here we were, right amongst them. Not quite as equals, but here nonetheless.

I found myself searching the crowds beyond the gold ropes, hoping to see a familiar face . . . any familiar face. The crowds weren’t there for me though, so I stayed back as best I could, letting Charlie take centre stage, the place he was born for. But then I spotted her. It was Miss Carlton, our drama teacher, waving frantically in our direction.

Quickly, I went to Charlie and grabbed his elbow as he was signing an autograph for a young girl, surprising him.

‘Somebody we need to see,’ I said to him, before pointing to where Miss Carlton was still waving at us. On seeing her his eyes lit up, and he quickly excused himself from the fans who’d had his attention, and we both strode over to where our drama teacher was waiting.

‘You came!’ Charlie said to her. ‘Thank you!’

‘You don’t think I would have missed this, do you?’ before reaching out and embracing first Charlie, and then me. ‘Oh, god! I’m so proud of you. Both of you. I never would have thought I’d ever see this day . . . it’s truly amazing!’

‘It wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you.’ Charlie graciously said, then seeing her phone in her hand he added, ‘Do you want a photo? Something to show the kids back home?’

‘Oh, that would be wonderful,’ she answered, before passing her phone over. With one of us on either side of her, and a crowd of adoring fans behind us, Charlie held his hand out in front of us and snapped a couple of shots, before handing the phone back.

It was just then that a security guard came over and gently suggested that we keep moving, as there were other groups following us, so we said goodbye to Miss Carlton and moved on. A couple of minutes later I spotted two more familiar faces, being Charlie’s father and Nan, and so I dragged him away from yet another group of teenage girls so we could greet them. There were more hugs and kisses and selfies, of course, followed by, ‘We’ll see you after the show!’ before we then had to move on again.

Inside the auditorium foyer, everything glittered and sparkled: sequins, tuxedos, life-sized gold statues, champagne.

Nobody seemed to take much notice of me . . . I was an unknown, and I liked it that way . . . but Charlie was greeted warmly by everyone, coming up and shaking his hand, congratulating him on Crown of Winter.

‘Extraordinary performance, young man,’ said one veteran actor as we passed.

‘You’ve got real presence,’ said another.

Charlie smiled, thanked them all, voice polite and always careful.

When we finally made it inside, we found Rachel waving at us from our reserved table. When Charlie managed to sink into his seat, he just leaned back and exhaled. ‘This is insane. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong amongst these people.’

‘Insane, yes, but in the best way,’ I said. ‘And you definitely do belong here. You were born for this life, Charlie Brown! And don’t you ever forget it!’

He grinned. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

‘And I have a message for you, from Rachel!’ I added.

Looking slightly confused, he glanced at her, then back to me.

‘That thing you’re worried most about,’ I quietly said to him. ‘The only people who might care about that, are those outside, on the other side of those ropes. Everybody else here tonight, everyone in this room, is on your side. This is where you belong, and you . . . we . . . have their support.’

‘What do you mean? Like . . . they know?’ he whispered.

‘Maybe. Who knows. And who cares. Just listen to your heart, babe.’

When I was finished I sat back in my chair, while Charlie continued studying me, before then switching his gaze to Rachel.

‘Everything alright?’ she asked him, when she noticed he was staring at her.

‘Yeah, I think so. Just . . . I don’t know . . . freaked out a little by this whole scene.’

‘You’re going to be fine,’ Rachel promised him, as she reached over me and patted him on the leg. ‘Just enjoy it, Charlie, and no matter what happens, just remember that you have truly arrived!’

Just at that moment, the rest of our table seemed to arrive, all greeting us warmly. Best Director nominee, Bryan Harrison. Best Supporting Actress nominee, Lily Cooper. Plus, their dates for the evening. The executive producer and his wife. I couldn’t remember just how many nominations our movie had received, but it was a lot, apparently.

We were among exalted company, and with three nominees just at our table, we were bound to have the cameras pointed at us quite a bit tonight. At the table beside ours, the rest of our movie team, including our other nominees, were seated.

Shortly afterwards, once drinks had been served, the lights seemed to dim, and the music started, before moments later, the host for the evening – a well-known television comedian – strode out onto the stage.

‘Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the annual Australian Film Academy Awards,’ he began. ‘A night where all that glitters might – or might not – be gold!’

Okay, that was gag number one, and the audience seemed to like it. Most of them seemed to be laughing, I noted.

For the next few minutes he delivered the usual award show monologue, earning laughs in places, and groans in others. Charlie and I seemed to laugh in all the right places, and a few wrong places as well, which only served to confirm that our brand of humour was on a par with that of the host . . . somewhere near the edge of the gutter.

When he was finally done, the audience gave him a cheer, then he quickly rolled on to the business at hand, inviting to the stage the presenters for the first award of the evening, which was Best Animated Feature. We weren’t nominated for that one.

The presenters came out onto the stage and gave their little spiel, and the night was underway. A massive screen behind the stage showed clips from each movie as the nominees were read out, then at the end, with a theatrical flourish, the winning film was read out.

‘And the winner is . . . A Dog’s Life . . . directed by Bianca Parish, written by Herbie Thorogood and Jacob Endwick . . . and featuring the voices of . . . . . . . . . . . . .’

Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear the rest of the names, as they were drowned out by the crowd, which I strongly suspected would be the pattern for the rest of the night.

A scream went up from a table well behind ours, and we all turned to see a group of people get to their feet, then hug and kiss and laugh and slap each other on the back, before they made their way to the stage. After accepting their award and then babbling on for a minute or two, they were eventually shown from the stage, and the awards rolled on.

The host cracked a few more jokes, mostly at the expense of well-known industry types, laughter and applause rolled through the hall like a wave. Presenters were changed, and it was time for the next award.

‘And the nominees for Best Costumes are . . . Maria Delgado for Crown of Winter . . .’

The applause was polite when the nominations were read out. It just seemed to go off the charts once the winner was announced, apparently.

‘And the winner is . . . Maria Delgado for Crown of Winter,’ the presenter said, and now it was our turn to go crazy for our comrade in arms, as Maria staggered to her feet at the next table and was hugged by her husband and congratulated by everyone at our two tables.

Slowly she made her way to the stage and accepted her award, the first for our little movie on this night, then managed to make a speech. When her time was up, the music started and she was ushered off the side of the stage, before eventually returning to her table, beside us.

Award after award came and went: cinematography, makeup, special affects – until finally, two more presenters stepped onto the stage and advised they would be announcing the winner of Best New Talent.

Looking across at Charlie I could see that he had gone pale. My breath caught in my throat and my heart started pounding. Now it was Charlie’s time to shine.

‘And here are the nominees,’ the presenter said, and one by one, the screen lit up with clips: a young woman in a war film; a boy from a gritty nineteen-sixties urban drama; a girl from a musical; and then . . .

‘Charlie Brown, in Crown of Winter.’

The clip showed him in that quiet, powerful scene: ‘With my father’s blessings, I shall love you for as long as you shall have me.’

The audience murmured – that kind of collective sigh that comes when everyone remembers why they loved a performance, then began clapping.

Away from here, both our families would be watching. I could picture them – Charlie’s dad and grandmother in their hotel room, my parents, back home in their living room, our friends, Danny and Brad, all of them holding their breath, just like we were.

‘And the winner is . . .’ the presenter smiled, pausing for effect, as his offsider struggled to rip open the envelope.

The room seemed to stop spinning, just for a moment.

‘It’s . . . Charlie Brown, for Crown of Winter!’

The auditorium erupted.

For a moment, Charlie didn’t move. Or couldn’t move. His mouth fell open. Then, trembling, he turned toward me. I was already on my feet, clapping like a maniac, grinning so hard my face hurt.

He pulled me into a quick hug – so fast most people probably missed it – then turned to Bryan, who was on his feet beside me and clapping almost as much as I was. They hugged as well, but then he stepped back and began to make his way to the stage on shaky legs, the applause following him like thunder, almost carrying him. As I sat back down, Rachel’s hand quickly found mine, squeezing gently.

We glanced at each other and could only laugh. This was crazy.

When Charlie reached the podium, he stared down at the golden trophy that had been placed in his hands, studying it for a moment, as if he was worried it might vanish.

‘Oh, gosh. I . . . I don’t even know what to say,’ he nervously began, while looking at the award he was holding. His voice cracked a little, and the audience laughed gently with him. ‘I didn’t prepare anything, because I didn’t expect this to happen. I saw all those other movies, and they were all so great.’

The crowd laughed again.

He took a breath, scanning the crowd. ‘There are so many people I need to thank. The other nominees – your work was incredible. Our director, Bryan, thank you for everything! I hope we can do this again sometime! The producers. Lily, who is just amazing. And absolutely everyone who helped to make Crown of Winter what it is. This has been an experience I will never forget. I also need to thank Miss Carlton, my high school drama teacher for having faith in me, and my family, for letting me chase my dreams . . . and . . . and . . .’

He paused, eyes searching the sea of faces. Then they found mine.

‘. . . and there’s one other person I really, really need to thank,’ he said. ‘The one person who encouraged me to do what I loved . . . who believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself . . . and who is always telling me just to be myself!’

The room fell silent. I felt Rachel’s hand grab mine. Even the orchestra was holding off on playing their ‘Time’s up. Get off our stage’ tune.

‘That person,’ Charlie said, his voice trembling but somehow sounding sure now, ‘is my boyfriend, Brayden.’

Gasps rippled through the hall.

Charlie smiled – a small, liberated, unstoppable smile. ‘I can never thank you enough, babe . . . for everything.’

The audience exploded. Cheers, whistles, applause. The orchestra struck up a different tune . . . a triumphant theme, as Charlie was ushered toward the wings. But before anyone could guide him offstage, he stopped and turned toward the crowd, breaking from the script.

For an instant I could almost see him thinking . . . then in the next instant he bounded back down the steps he had climbed to reach the stage, the spotlight chasing him across the floor, struggling to keep up. The crowd roared and parted for him. Cameras flashed. And then he was in front of me: breathless, shining, alive.

Without hesitation, he threw his arms around me and kissed me, full and certain and fearless, right there in front of everyone. Everyone in the room. Everyone watching. Everyone!

The crowd went wild. People were on their feet, cheering. There were wolf whistles. Reporters scrambled for photos, the orchestra was still playing, lights were swirling above us.

When he finally pulled back, eyes bright with tears and laughter, he whispered, ‘Guess it was time I finally stopped pretending.’

And for once, the whole world saw exactly who Charlie Brown really was. And they loved him for it.

~ End ~