Chapter 15
BENJI
Even though my relationship with Anson was complicated, to say the least, I had been so excited to reunite him and my dad, but dinner was just …
weird. And ironically, I didn’t think it was the two socially awkward scientists making it so; at least not entirely.
Truth be told, it was mostly Dad, being stupidly overprotective and thinking, what, that Anson Day had stolen my work?
I felt I had to have a long talk with my dad, and that I owed Anson a huge apology.
It was true, I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I guess I couldn’t be an absent-minded scientist and simply ignore my situation either. Look where that had gotten me: an angry and confused dad and a confused and frustrated Anson.
Talking with Anson would have to wait, much as it was all I really wanted to do as we wrapped up the strangest dinner I’d ever had and said our goodbyes.
We shook hands as we left the restaurant, all formal thank you for dinner and congratulations on your graduation.
I held Anson’s hand a beat too long, wanting to communicate so much in that one touch; our eyes locked as I spewed another “thank you” his way.
I still didn’t know how I was going to manage to work with him day in and day out, when all I wanted to do was kiss him, but that was a problem for the future PhD to solve when he formally started his job at New Day Technologies.
About-to-graduate Benji just had to focus on getting through to the next day, without his father trying to blow up his future.
I was still holding Anson's hand, about to wrap it with my other one as if I could solve our dilemma by touch alone or maybe just hold him there longer.
Before I could, my dad cleared his throat and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Big day tomorrow, son. Let’s get you home.”
I dropped Anson’s hand reluctantly, no closer to a solution.
You could always go to work somewhere else, my brain supplied, but I knew that wasn’t the answer.
Anson and I worked together too well to walk away from Project Orthos.
I was sure we had other groundbreaking discoveries in us as well.
Our collaborative partnership deserved to be explored for years to come.
How we were going to manage that, I had no clue.
I turned away from Anson, guided by my father’s hand, frustratedly muttering, “Scientists solve problems,” as we exited the building. Dad led me down the sidewalk.
“What was that, Benj?”
“Oh, nothing, Dad. Just thinking out loud. You know, a brain blast!” I tried for a smile and could only hope that it didn’t look as forced as it felt.
My dad hadn’t moved his hand. He squeezed one more time as he stopped and pivoted toward me, his other hand finding my shoulder as well.
The group of people behind us glared at me as they split up and filtered around us.
My dad was oblivious to them, and I thought about how he’d never lived anywhere but his hometown and wasn’t used to city-sidewalk etiquette.
“This job, Benji …” He looked so serious.
Another group split up on the busy street to walk around us.
“This job is my dream come true. And this project! It’s amazing, Dad.
Working with Anson is amazing! What we’re doing is going to change lives.
You can look at all the legal stuff if you want to, but I think it’s really fair, and …
I trust Anson, Dad. I know I haven’t known him very long but try and think of the kid you used to know and not the face of a multi-million-dollar business.
That’s who I’m working with, the kid, like me, who could spend a week in his room if someone didn’t drag him out to the creek.
Or I guess he’s the opposite!” I tried to lighten the mood.
“You had to drag him from the creek so he didn’t stay out there all night!
We’re working together on this project. My research and his research coming together. Please believe me.”
“I do believe you,” he said, making it clear that I hadn’t convinced him of anything that would allay his concerns.
He opened his mouth to continue, but someone brushed into him. He grunted in frustration and dropped his hands from my shoulders. Turning, he began to walk. We were quiet until we were situated on the T, seated side by side on the busy train, our shoulders brushing.
“I worry about you, kiddo,” he said softly in the quiet train car.
“You don’t have to, Dad. I swear.”
“It just seems very convenient that you and he were working on the same project. Like he might be taking advantage of you. Or maybe not him, directly, but his company,” he spewed out quickly.
“I promise, he’s not. They’re not.”
“Huh. That partner of his seems to spend a lot of time buying up smaller companies or putting them out of business. You’re sure …”
“That’s just business, Dad. Competition or whatever.”
“Son,” he said softly. “What if you were the competition?”
“I shared my project with them. Willingly, freely, Dad! It’s not like that. We just happened to be working on the same thing. Here, let me show you …”
I didn’t know how else to convince him except by diving into the science—and Dad, as usual, started to glaze over the second I did.
Dad grunted when I finished, and I hated that he felt the need to keep his emotions in check, understandable though it was since we were surrounded by strangers on the subway.
He’d tried so hard over the years to relate to the way my brain worked, to the fact that we hardly shared any interests, to the fact that I’m gay.
He really tried, but he’d always been a man of few words.
That grunt meant we were going to agree to disagree; that we would have one more thing that we didn’t understand about each other.
I needed time to solve this equation in a way that Dad would get, and that certainly wasn’t happening on a commuter train on the Friday night before graduation.
Dad’s hotel was near my apartment, so we exited the T together, remaining silent as we walked in that direction. It took me a few blocks out of my way to stick with him, but since he wasn’t as familiar with the city, I walked to the hotel’s portico with him.
When we got to the bustling door, I muttered, “Please don’t worry about me, Dad.
Everything’s great with my new job. I promise.
” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Everything was great with my job at New Day Tech, except for the fact that I couldn’t erase the memory of kissing the owner of the company in his lab while I ran my fingers through his hair.
Dad nodded before hugging me. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Benji.”
“I know, Dad.
“I’ll see you in the morning!” he said as he followed a large group into the hotel lobby, a group that looked like a big family, probably also in town for graduation, based on the number of them wearing MIT gear.
I thought about my dad and all he had lost. With my mom gone and my grandparents away, Dad would be sitting in the audience all alone the next day.
I tried not to let that fact bum me out as I moved away from the bustling hotel entrance.
With me finishing up my degree, maybe my dad would finally take some time for himself.
Maybe he’d even find someone to date. He’s not that old, I thought, realizing almost immediately that he was exactly as old as Anson.
Even in May, a Boston evening can get chilly.
I tucked my hands in my jacket, tucked my head down, and power walked to my apartment, dodging crowds on the busy street like I’d learned to do over my years in the city.
My thoughts were still on my dad and how serious and concerned he seemed.
It was not at all how I had envisioned our dinner with Anson would go.
I had prepared for tension between Anson and me, but I had hoped he and Dad would have a pleasant reunion. My dad sometimes seems so alone to me, and sure, Anson had Beck, and a company full of colleagues, but did he have any other friends?
It was all so frustrating. I could be his friend or maybe more. But how would that work? If the public found out that Anson was dating an entry-level employee, what would the ramifications be?
I couldn’t envision ever getting to that point, because Beck would swoop in long before the press and try to put an end to anything between us. In truth, wasn’t that what his daily interruptions were all about? Beck protecting Anson. Protecting him from me.
I needed to shield him, too, his reputation and his company. Pushing him away had been the right thing to do. The only thing a person who cared about him could do.
I stopped when I passed a bench and sat down, searching for recent images of Anson online.
There was only one of us touching grass, and from the angle it had been taken, our joined hands were blocked, making it look like we had just both bent down to pick something up.
The poster had commented simply that they were excited that Anson Day was a fan of the same food truck as them.
I heaved a sigh of relief, feeling like we had dodged a bullet and wondering what would have happened if people had started speculating about the tech mogul and the much younger man he had been holding hands with at the Boston Commons.
“I have to protect him,” I resolved as I stood and continued the trek to my apartment.
My mind was a jumble of thoughts: my dad, living by himself in his childhood home; Anson, spending most of his time in a private lab that hardly anyone else ever got to visit. I thought about social media and friendship and loneliness, age gaps and queerness and loss.
I was preoccupied with the chaos in my brain, something that I was very much not accustomed to having, as my keys jangled, and I opened the door to my apartment.
The back of two heads, sitting on the couch and staring at the Boston Crimson game on our huge TV, were a surprise. A familiar-looking sports jacket, bisected by a ponytail, stretched over the shoulders of one of the men.
Jake turned around first.