61. Will
WILL
“Why wouldn’t that surprise you?” Stewart asked. “Are you accustomed to your parents removing roadblocks for you? That must be nice. Not everyone has that luxury.”
My gaze darted to Julian’s cubby beneath the word wall, where he liked to hide when things got rough. He’d bury himself behind his coat and backpack and take deep breaths until he was ready to rejoin the class.
Although hiding wasn’t an option for me, I could still breathe.
“It’s okay, you can take your time answering,” Stewart said.
I kept my breathing steady. “I know. No one needs permission to breathe.”
“I’m sorry, I beg your pardon.”
I ignored him and took my time. I did this in class, too. I liked to teach by example. Maybe my students would watch this later and say, “Look, Mr. Chapman is taking time to stop and breathe.”
“Okay.” I forced a smile onto my face. I was trained to deal with poorly behaved people. This was no different. “I’m going to answer your question. But first, let me ask you a question in return. Are you asking to be helpful or hurtful?”
“Excuse me?” Stewart leaned back in his chair like I had bad breath.
“These questions you’ve been asking me—are you asking them to be helpful or hurtful?”
For a moment it looked like Stewart wasn’t going to answer, but after a long silence he said, “Helpful.”
“Okay, so how are they helpful?” It was like asking Julian why he thought dumping paint in the fish tank was helpful.
Stewart let a hint of exasperation seep into his tone. “This is an interview, Mr. Chapman. I’m doing my job, asking the questions our viewers want answers to.”
I smiled, and this time it was genuine. “Really? Because I imagine your viewers hardly think about me at all. I was in one movie ten years ago, when I was eighteen. Now I live in a small two-bedroom apartment with my best friend and spend my days helping kids learn how to read, write, and make friends. To answer your question, though, I’m not surprised my mother would help me get a part in a movie because she’s my mother and she loves me.
I’m not surprised she hid it from me either.
She knew I wanted to stand on my own two feet. ”
“And what about now?” Stewart kept his voice even and professional, but there was a hint of gloating in his tone. “I understand you’re hoping to make a comeback by starring in your father’s new movie. That’s not exactly standing on your own two feet, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” He wasn’t wrong, but wanting this experience with my father wasn’t wrong either.
“But the truth is, I’m less concerned about making a comeback than I am about working with my dad while I still have the chance.
I’ve dreamed of being in a movie with him since I was a little boy.
I see your point about nepotism and privilege, though.
It’s one of the reasons I became a teacher.
I wanted to leverage my privilege to help others. ”
“What about those who would say you only went into teaching to repair your tarnished reputation? That it was more about helping yourself than your students?”
Mom whispered something to Miles, and he took out his phone and started recording the interview. Tiffany was on her phone, too. This was going great, just great.
“You never really know someone’s intentions, do you?
You always have to guess. In my classroom, I use a social-emotional program called Conscious Discipline, and one of its central tenets is to assume positive intent.
The idea is, since you have to guess anyway, why not guess something positive?
Even if you’re wrong, you’ll be in a better position to communicate your needs than if you’d assumed the worst and put the other person on the defensive.
“Sure, you could assume I spent five years in college and five years in the classroom as some elaborate, decade-long plot to appear more sympathetic. And I’m sure some people’ll believe that.
Or you could assume I like kids and want to help them learn.
I can’t control what others think and do.
I can only control what I think and do.”
“Like hitting your co-star over the head with a blunt object?”
Jesus, what the hell was I supposed to say to that?
“Let’s talk about that night. You told the police you went up to Derek Hall’s room after the ceremony, had some drinks, and blacked out, that you don’t remember a thing, even the argument you were heard having with Derek.”
I nodded.
“Was it ever more than friendship between you two?” Stewart removed his glasses, probably to symbolize the naked truth he was uncovering. “Or did you ever wish it was more than friendship?”
“I did,” I admitted, laughing freely. Fuck Stewart, and fuck public opinion. People were going to judge me no matter what I said, so I might as well tell the truth. “You’ve seen Derek, right? He’s a total hunk, and he’s a nice guy, too.”
“Were you in love with him?”
You’re just a pathetic fuckboy.
“I certainly thought I was at the time.”
The truth was, I had no frame of reference. Other than a few semi-anonymous hookups, there’d only been Derek and James, and trying to sort out what was real and what was fake with those two was an absolute mindfuck.
A few hours ago, Derek had said the words I’d been dying to hear for over a decade.
I should have felt vindicated. It hadn’t all been in my head.
The connection I’d felt with Derek had been real and reciprocated.
Yet instead of vindication, I felt only grief and loss.
The boy who’d loved Derek, the boy who would’ve traded a year of his life for a single kiss, was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.
That boy was never going to get his happy ending because he no longer existed.
The man I’d become didn’t want to date Derek—now, or ever—because I didn’t love him. I loved James.
Maybe it was staring into James’s eyes for five minutes straight, or my mustache fetish. But whatever the reason, James made me feel like it was finally my turn. My turn to be happy, to be in love.
When everyone else had written me off as either a monster or a cautionary tale, he’d seen me as a hidden gem, as “the world’s best kept secret.” Or so I’d thought. Finding out he’d only been propping me up to advance his own ends had gutted me, but the damage was done.
I may not have earned my seat in first class, but I’d drunk the champagne and pressed my face against the hot towel, and there was no going back to steerage now—not quietly, anyway. I’d tasted love, and I wanted more. And I was ready to fight for it, too.
Stewart leaned forward. “Do you ever wonder if jealousy played a factor that night? There are, of course, rumors that you declared your love for Derek that night and he rejected you. But what if there was more to the story? What if you saw Derek with someone else, maybe even someone close to you?”
You mean like my mom?
I held Stewart’s gaze. “You know, I’ve wondered a lot of things over the years, but if I’m being honest, I don’t spend much time wondering anymore. It’s not productive. So, I’ve done the only thing I can do. I’ve forgiven myself for whatever might’ve gone down and moved on.”
The moment the words were out of my mouth, I realized they were true.
This interview was a disaster and would probably cost my father the Oscar, but I would be okay.
And if I could forgive myself, maybe I could forgive James, too.
Maybe I was stronger than I thought, strong enough to risk another humiliating heartbreak.
“But is it your place to forgive yourself?” Stewart’s stare cut through my thoughts. “Isn’t that up to the people you’ve hurt with your intimidation tactics in the classroom and your violent actions outside it?”
Jesus, what was wrong with this guy? Hadn’t we already been over this? I closed my eyes and tried to think of something positive. Maybe when this was over, I could ask James out on a date.
Everyone expected James—cool, confident James—to take charge, to be the hero of their romantic fantasies. Even Theo, who knew him best, constantly gave him shit for letting his boyfriends go without a fight. But maybe I wasn’t the only one waiting to be sprung from a prison of his own making.
James had devoted most of his life to caring for his family, including his bigoted father. But who took care of him? Where was his white knight?
I was done being everyone’s punching bag, done being the shamefaced boy in the backseat of the police cruiser.
I was ready to drive. Maybe I’d never act again.
Or teach. But dreams weren’t like hearts.
You could have more than one. Maybe James and I could create a new dream together.
Open a bed-and-breakfast in Vermont with some horses, maybe throw around their old shoes while drinking shit beer.
“William.” Stewart’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Let me rephrase. Is it your place to forgive yourself, or shouldn’t that be up to your victims?”
I was tempted to throw Stewart’s own allegations of misconduct in his face, but that wouldn’t be helpful, and in my classroom we strove to be helpful.
I set my hands in my lap and rolled my shoulders back. “What we’ve got here is a teachable moment,” I said. “I’m going to answer your question, but first let me share what’s happening inside my head right now so you can better understand my earlier point about assuming positive intent.”
I could see he wanted to interrupt, so I spoke faster.
“You just doubled down on the accusation that I threaten my students with bodily harm to make them behave. In fact, you stated it as fact, rather than the tabloid nonsense it clearly is, which is interesting, considering I just invited you to ask my principal—the very person who deals with these types of complaints—if there’s any truth to the allegation.
And she’s just down the hall. We could literally clear this up in a matter of seconds.
Yet, you don’t seem interested in that.”
“I can see I pushed a button, but—”