Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Who the hell is reading these? I see here that she included some completely fabricated criticism of the fair. Tell me that you haven’t let her send these to other people.”
“No, only to family.”
Jesse’s stomach tightened, and he flinched from Arthur’s lie. But Arthur continued on as though he was more than used to bending the truth when speaking to his parents.
“But, still, the newspaper is important to her,” Arthur said.
“It’s a waste of time.” Mr. Hughes scowled. “Why was this even printed? Can those tiny shops of yours really spare the ink?”
Arthur winced. He curled his shoulders forward and lowered his head, crumpling in on himself. Jesse’s heart ached for him.
“I thought it would be fun, is all.”
“Fun.” Arthur’s father rolled his eyes. “Arthur, you’re her father. Emma ought to be spending her time on things that will serve her well in the future for when she’s busy running her own household.”
Arthur pressed his lips together to form a thin line and nodded. Jesse could tell that he was metaphorically, if not literally, biting his tongue.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’ll be more cognizant of that moving forward.”
Arthur’s father nodded once. He set Emma’s article back on the desk.
“Now let’s enjoy some brandy.”
***
Hours later, Warren and Joanna Hughes left. And Arthur collapsed into Jesse’s arms the moment they were out the door.
“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. “I should have told them the truth about Emma.”
Jesse hugged him tight. “There’s no rush.”
After a little while longer, the two went upstairs to Arthur’s bedroom, and by the time they climbed into bed, Arthur’s eyes had begun to fill with tears. Jesse’s heart cracked. He pulled Arthur in for a kiss, and Arthur choked out a sob the moment their lips collided.
“Am I failing her, Jesse?” he asked. “If I let Emma become a journalist, am I failing her?”
“No,” Jesse said, wiping tears from Arthur’s cheeks. “You’re not. I promise.”
Arthur sniffled. “I hate this. I feel like I’m never not blubbering over something.”
“You know that isn’t true,” Jesse said with a sympathetic half-smile.
“It feels true. I’m either crying because I’m happy or crying because I’m hurt or even crying because I’m overwhelmed. How little you must think of me.”
“I think the world of you,” Jesse said. “I love how passionate you are. I love how deeply you feel things.”
Arthur sniffled again. “Thank you. I wish I could find the courage to stop caring about what other people think of me, though. Aside from you. I know I pretend not to care sometimes, like when I only wore my waistcoat for my parents tonight, but I do care. I care so much. I feel like I’d have to completely cut my parents out of my life for me not to continue to worry about what they think of me. ”
Sympathy clutched at Jesse’s heart. Cutting people out of one’s life was never easy, especially when those people were one’s parents. Oftentimes, it was painful. Even when it was the right thing to do. Or even when it was the only thing to do.
Jesse had known for most of his life that he’d never be the son that either of his parents wished him to be.
It was one of the reasons that he had hoped to succeed as an engineer.
He’d hoped to prove them wrong about college.
About the value of education. And about his ability to succeed, too.
Instead, though, Jesse had been forced to make a choice.
And since he hadn’t ever come close to measuring up to whatever standard they had set for him, he had realized that, for him, the best choice would be to leave.
He could only imagine how hard leaving like that would be for Arthur, though.
Arthur’s parents had provided him with financial support, even after he had nearly ruined the family name.
Arthur’s whole life was still so tethered to his parents and to the community of Chicago’s social elite as a whole.
Furthermore, Warren and Joanna Hughes were Emma’s grandparents.
Arthur had so much more to lose, so much more to consider, than Jesse had ever had.
“Don’t feel like you have to do that,” Jesse said, stroking Arthur’s hair.
Arthur buried his face in Jesse’s chest. He let out a soft, muffled cry, followed by a slightly louder one. Jesse continued to hold him close.
Minutes passed before Arthur stilled. Finally, he came out from hiding, lifting his chin so that he could look into Jesse’s eyes.
“Do you want to know why I really wanted to exhibit in the fair?” he asked, and Jesse nodded.
“I wanted to exhibit because I thought that I could improve my reputation. I had hoped—foolishly, I might add—that my being in the fair would make my parents proud of me for once, too. I thought that maybe, finally, they’d see me as more than the reckless boy I once was. ”
Using his thumb, Jesse wiped away Arthur’s tears.
“Sweet, ridiculous man, you’re so much more than that.”
“I feel like a failure. For so many reasons. Like because of how my past behavior hurt my family’s reputation.
Or because of how miserable I’ve made Emma throughout the course of her young life.
Or because, even knowing how miserable she has been, I still couldn’t manage to be honest with my father tonight about what Emma wants for her future.
I couldn’t make myself tell him that I intend to support her.
God, Jesse, I even feel like a failure because I never managed to convince the fair’s organizers that they ought to let me exhibit, even when I clearly was willing to pay them heaps of money for the privilege of doing so.
” Arthur let out a pained moan. “Dammit, I could keep listing other things, too. Hurting you, for instance, by being a snobbish fool. Or letting that fucking steel mill close. Or, hell, overworking poor Gertrude by not hiring more staff and thereby ruining her knees. Why am I such a failure, Jesse? Am I cursed to be the very picture of mediocrity and inadequacy for the rest of forever?”
“You’re not a failure, Arthur,” Jesse said, pushing his hand through Arthur’s hair. “Do you think that I’m a failure for not being the son my father so clearly wanted? Or for not finishing college? Or for not managing to perfect that modified Jobber for you?”
“Of course not.”
“You’re not a failure for your mistakes or missteps or even for your person, either. I’m enchanted by you, Arthur. You’re a wonderful father. You’re a wonderful friend and lover and employer and person, too. And I’m so very lucky to know you.”
Arthur sniffled once more. “Thank you, my sweet Jesse. You really are a treasure.”
Some time passed while Jesse hugged him tighter. He wondered how or whether there was something that could make Arthur feel better. Soon, he remembered something. Something might help.
Jesse said, “Arthur, I wonder if I might have thought of something that might help with how you’re feeling right now.
Do you still want to talk about the types of printing presses at that private event at the fair?
I know how bad you feel for not having been chosen to exhibit, but maybe it would make you feel better to participate in that.
Because then, maybe it would feel like you came close to exhibiting, in a way. ”
Arthur sniffled and sat up a bit. “Do you really think I should?”
“Only if you want to.”
“I want to,” Arthur said before letting out a small sob. “But I hate that I want to. I feel like I’m the most pathetic person in the world for still wanting a metaphorical pat on the head from my parents.”
Jesse ran his hand through Arthur’s hair again. “Beautiful man,” he said, “it’s not pathetic. You’re not pathetic. It’s normal to want your parents to love you.”
“You were brave enough not to want such a thing.”
“I wanted it,” Jesse said. “I only walked away when I knew it wasn’t mine to have.”
Arthur seemed to think for a bit.
“Do you promise that you won’t think less of me if I try for it still?” he finally asked.
“I won’t,” Jesse said with as much sincerity and sweetness as he could muster. “I promise.”
Some minutes passed. Then, Arthur started speaking again.
“I wonder if, should I present at this thing, perhaps my parents might eventually be more amenable to the idea of Emma pursuing journalism, if only because they’ll feel as though their son has mended his reputation a bit by, as my father said, having such influence on Chicago’s printing industry.
It’s a bunch of nonsense, but maybe it could help. ”
“It sounds like a sensible thing to try, then.”
Jesse continued to pet Arthur’s hair for a while. After more time passed, maybe fifteen or even twenty minutes, Arthur sat back up and balanced on his elbow.
“Will you come with me to the event?” Arthur asked.
Jesse let out a half chuckle. “Why? No one would want me there.”
“I want you there.” Arthur placed a hand on Jesse’s cheek.
“I know our friendship might seem strange to my parents and to others, but I’d love to have fun at the fair with you in the nighttime.
Even if other people will be around, I’m certain that the fairgrounds will be absolutely magical so late in the evening.
Besides, having you there will help remind me that I’m more than the son of Warren and Joanna Hughes. ”
“Won’t I look out of place?”
“You could never look out of place.”
“Liar.” Jesse chuckled. “Alright, fine, if it’ll mean that much to you.”
Arthur leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss to Jesse’s lips.
“Thank you for your support, Jesse.”
“Always.”