Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman

Chapter 277: Chapter 277 — Meeting Again

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Henry parked by the restaurant and walked in just around the agreed time. Not late, not too early.

Charlize Theron was already there, chatting cheerfully with the burly waitress who’d almost grabbed her the other day. In her hands she held her own copy of Love Across Cultures.

A funny kind of ”we met by fighting” bond, perhaps.

When the new arrival came in, Charlize stood up happily and greeted him. ”Henry, you’re here.”

”You came early. Did you order?” Henry asked as he reached the table.

”Not yet—waiting for you.”

After seating Charlize first, Henry pulled out his own chair. The waitress, now on professional mode, handed over menus with a smile.

”What do you want? Same as last time?” Henry asked.

”Hmm, that portion was a bit much. I’ll have the duck pie,” Charlize answered, slightly embarrassed.

Good—she hadn’t starved herself since the last meeting. Henry said, ”I’ll have the duck set, plus a peach tart, lamb chops, and a Caesar salad. Thanks.”

Charlize’s eyes widened at the obvious pile of food—clearly not one person’s portion. If she were the one treating, a single meal might have eaten up a week’s food budget.

At her stare, Henry smiled. ”I have a big appetite. That steak you saw last time was the second course.”

”This is the first time I’ve heard someone describe a meal as having a ’second course’ like that.”

”Ha—get used to it.” He reached out his hand. ”Give it here.”

Charlize looked momentarily puzzled. Henry pointed at the book she was holding. ”You wanted my signature, remember?”

”Oh right, right.” Charlize hurriedly handed the book over.

Henry used his fountain pen to sign the blank page under the cover and wrote a short dedication. The special touch: the wish for success in her career was written in Dutch.

Although South African Dutch and Netherlandic Dutch have diverged, it’s like American versus British English—close enough for Charlize to understand.

Surprised, she asked, ”You actually know Dutch, or did you look it up for me?”

”For you, of course, beautiful lady,” Henry said, at first with fake tenderness—then laughed. ”Okay, that might be over the top.”

Charlize’s expression shifted—part glad, part embarrassed—and she lowered her guard. ”Okay, what’s the truth?”

Henry switched to Dutch: My former boss Audrey Hepburn’s final partner, Robert Wards, was Dutch. I usually spoke French or Dutch with him. Is this phrasing different in your Afrikaans?

A reply in Afrikaans: A little—some differences. For example you said ”Levenspartner” (life partner); we say ”Lewensmaat.”

”I think I see why,” Henry said.

Charlize, curious, asked, ”Oh—what do you think causes that difference?”

”Probably because modern Dutch has been influenced more by French. That same idea in French is ’Partenaire_de_vie.’ Dutch borrowed ’partner’ as the root.”

”That makes sense.” Charlize switched back to English.

Henry asked in English, ”How long have you been in the U.S.?”

”Just over two years. Why do you ask?”

”Your accent isn’t like Robert’s—he has a strong Dutch flavor with a touch of French.” Henry mimicked the Dutch actor’s intonation and recited an opera line, making Charlize chuckle.

”Does he really speak like that?” she asked.

”He does—treating opera lines as everyday speech. A peculiar talent,” Henry teased. Then he asked, ”What about you? I went with Hepburn all over Africa, but I’ve never been to South Africa. What’s it like?”

The UN arranged that South African trip before Henry became her assistant; afterward, no more. So he’d never been.

Charlize seemed reluctant to dwell on home, but she answered: ”Honestly, it wasn’t much different from other African countries. Apartheid left society full of conflict.

”I grew up in Benoni, Gauteng, near Johannesburg. We had a farm and a great environment—me barefoot in the dirt, playing like a tomboy.

”No GameBoys, no computers. Because of international sanctions there were no concerts, so you had to make your own fun, like any country kid.

”So when you ask what South Africa is like, I can only say what people commonly think of it—some of which is negative.”

The food arrived and they ate while talking. Henry asked, ”What happened after that?”

Charlize replied, ”At sixteen I went to Italy to work as a model with my mother. We lived in Milan but traveled around Europe that year. When the modeling contract ended we came to the U.S. My mother stayed in Miami while I trained at the Joffrey Ballet School in New York.”

Henry was surprised: ”Joffrey’s program is prestigious. It’s not easy to get in—you did well.”

”Yes—until my knee injury,” Charlize said gloomily.

”A shame. Injuries early in training set physical limits. Talent isn’t only learning fast; bodies have ceilings. If you hit that early, no amount of grit can make you world-class. Many things aren’t won by perseverance alone.”

”My teacher told me the same. He advised me not to continue with ballet. That period was awful.”

”So you came to Hollywood to chase your dream?”

Lost for a moment in memory, Charlize said, ”Yes. When Mom came to New York she told me, ’Decide your next step, or come home. In South Africa you can sulk all you want.’ So I came to L.A., trying one last push. Mom supported me in New York. For both of us, it was the last chance—if we failed, we’d go back to the farm.”

”The American Dream, eh,” Henry noted.

Blushing, Charlize winced: ”Why am I telling you all these odd things? Forget it, okay?”

”Okay, I’ll forget. But sometimes saying things out loud helps more than bottling them up.”

”Please forget thoroughly. Don’t give me any advice.”

”No problem. I’ll remember nothing—truly,” Henry played along with the mood.

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