Chapter 14 #3
Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s true.
As a matter of fact, I used to have to drag him back to our houses when it started to get dark.
He would stay out there doodling all night.
I had no idea you were doing more than doodling, Anson.
To think, years later my kid would have a picture of you hugging a robot.
I found that picture online when Benji told me about his interview.
I swear you looked like some time-machine-building mad scientist in it, Ani. ”
“Dad!” Benji scolded, sounding a bit like a teenager. His cheeks pinked up adorably for the second time that evening.
“What? It’s true! It was quite the shock when Benji mentioned interviewing for Anson Day’s company. The Anson Day, he said, like his general contractor dad should have known who that was! Like he was talking about the King of England or something.”
“Dad.” Benji tried again to get his father to stop.
He looked nervously at me, and I couldn’t help but smile in return, hoping to put him at ease.
He’d told me about that picture. I knew he was worried that I saw him as some overzealous fan, but I was convinced our connection was real and was determined to convince Benji of that too.
After fretting for a bit when Benji had left the lab that day, I’d treated the problem like any other that I’d tackled in my work over the years.
Research, trial and error, and a little bit of the problem-solving for which I’d become famous.
If I had stayed up all night to figure it out, that was all just part of my process.
So what if, until that point, I’d mainly used that problem-solving for writing code and managing mechanical issues?
That didn’t mean I couldn’t apply it to matters of the heart.
Because that was what our relationship was.
The work was secondary, a mere component of the overall project.
It may have brought us together, but it brought us together for a bigger reason.
I was confident of that, and I was confident that my research would succeed, Benji would be convinced, and he and I would find a way to be together.
As the night continued, it became apparent that convincing Ben would be a whole other project.
Instead of talking more about our work, Ben and I spent time catching up.
I told him a bit about my teenage years, moving to New York and attending Hampstead University.
Ben seemed genuinely interested and relieved when I shared that I was mostly accepted by the older students at the university, where the professor who had sponsored me made it her mission to look out for me.
Taking classes at the high school had proven more challenging.
I didn’t have the luxury of two of the most popular kids in class as my childhood friends when I moved to New York.
“That’s where I met Beck, though, and he always looked out for me. We were neighbors as well.”
“Then you two went to college together?” Ben asked, confused.
“No,” Benji said at the same time I said, “Not exactly.” Benji looked embarrassed to have jumped in to correct his dad on a story about me. It was getting harder and harder to sit there and watch his cheeks pink up and his eyes flutter nervously.
“Sorry,” he said, making my cheeks heat since in my head I heard him say “sorry, baby” as he had done exactly once before.
“I was accelerated in high school, of course, taking some classes there and some at HU. I got an undergrad from Hampstead, then started at MIT. Beck graduated high school the next year and went to Boston College. We stayed close the whole time and decided to start the business after we both graduated.”
“And the rest is history,” Ben said, a note of skepticism in his tone.
“And the rest is history!” Benji enthused. We were smiling at each other, and Ben may have been looking between the two of us.
“So,” he began, his voice taking on a sterner tone again. “You two just both happened to be working on the same project at the same time? How does that happen?”
“Me and Beck?” I asked, pulling my focus from Benji and back to his father. I wasn’t sure what Ben was asking, having lost focus a bit, but I feared he wasn’t asking about Beck and was back to being concerned for his son.
I thought about the young Ben and how he had been protective of me.
It was only right that he be protective of his son even if his son didn’t need it.
It didn’t bode well for me, though. How was I ever going to convince Ben that all of my intentions toward his son were pure, when he appeared to be so worried I was taking advantage of him professionally?
Something had caught Benji’s eye on the river out the window, but he muttered, “Serendipity,” as he stared, answering his father’s question. My face lit up as I thought, Benji understands.
“You and Benji,” Ben clarified.
“Benji’s studies are a perfect fit for New Day, and it was just a happy coincidence that I’ve been working on something similar.”
“A happy coincidence.” Ben sounded skeptical.
“Benji’s work was entirely independent,” I assured him, which apparently was the wrong thing to say.
“I never assumed otherwise,” Ben said sharply, narrowing his eyes and causing Benji to snap his head back to us.
“Dad?”
“You shared your project with him, and then you just started working for free?”
Benji looked confused but defended the arrangement. “Not exactly, I just started early. Anson said ....”
“I’m paying him for his time these past few weeks, and we explained about the profit sharing,” I jumped in.
“Generous of you, to offer to share in the profits for his work! And you said you decided to pay him for his time, after the fact. He’s been working for free for what, like a month?”
“Three weeks,” Benji and I said at the same time.
“Anson. This is my kid we’re talking about. You dangle the job of his dreams in front of him, then his work just becomes yours?”
“Dad, it’s not like that!”
“Ben, please. I would never do anything to hurt Benji. Never.”
“How can you not? You’re Anson Day, and he’s …”
I may not have always been sharp with social cues, but I knew the way Ben was winding himself up was not great for anyone, and I feared what he might blurt out about his incredible son in the heat of the moment. I cut him off before he could say something hurtful.
“Ben! Your son is a brilliant scientist, which I know you know. He’s working on an important project, partnering on an important project, and …”
It seemed that Ben realized that what he had been about to say was wrong.
He nodded to me in understanding, then directed his attention to his son, who, shockingly, seemed to have missed the heated end to our conversation in favor of typing something out on his phone.
That was probably just as well. I know Ben didn’t mean to disparage his son, but it sounded like he might have been going in that direction.
Even I could understand that Ben was being a good father and trying to protect Benji.
I just wished he didn’t think Benji needed protection from me.
My focus remained on Benji, but his was still on his phone.
I had a brief, ridiculous notion that he might be sending cute GIFs to someone else.
Someone of a more appropriate age and lot in life.
Someone whom he might want to kiss the way he’d kissed me.
The pit of my stomach tightened as if I’d been punched right in the navel.
The sensation penetrated my insides without any intention of leaving. I didn’t like the feeling.
“Benji? Phones at the table?”
“Sorry, Dad,” he mumbled, continuing to type with one hand as he held one finger up in front of his father’s face with the other.
“Benji,” his father warned.
“Anson, look!” Benji shared his phone with me, where an image of our apparatus spun slowly. I could see immediately where he’d tweaked it.
I smiled down at the phone, then up at Benji.
“That’s it!” He was beaming back at me, and the look on his face caused a sensation to run through me that I don’t think I had ever felt before.
That fist in my gut exploded into something else entirely, something much more charged and much more pleasant.
I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt so many emotions in such a short period of time. It was a strong reminder of why I had ordered my life the way I had. Only, when I looked at Benji, I didn’t so much mind the disorder, not if it meant I got to spend time with him.
“Sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to be rude; I just had a …”
“A brain blast,” Ben jumped in, smiling fondly at his son despite his frustration. When Benji looked embarrassed by the phrase, Ben glared at me again. Benji wouldn’t have to be embarrassed if I weren’t there.
“Dad.” There was that pink tint to his cheeks again, magnified by his glasses.
“What?” Ben chuckled, but it was tight. “That’s what you always called it when you were a kid.”
Benji looked at both of us before responding.
“I’m not a kid anymore.”