The Priest's Tale - 10. Chapter 10

Peter pulled into the parking lot of the San Leandro Marina Inn and found a space near the entrance. Turning the engine off, he sat in Bax’s BMW and stared straight ahead. His head ached with a cacophony of competing thoughts.

What am I going to say? What will Dan say? What if this all goes horribly wrong, again? What the hell am I thinking? Instead of imagining the worst, go and fucking find out, Peter!

Entering the hotel lobby, he was directed to the restaurant entrance at back of the room. Swallowing hard, he approached the host at the podium.

“One for breakfast, sir?”

“Uh, no. I’m expecting someone, or he might already be here.”

“Take your time and look around, sir. If you find him, go on over.”

As Peter surveyed the large and busy room, waiters bustled around with trays laden with pastries and juices. A buffet table laden with delicacies occupied one entire wall. His eyes finally settled on the one man he both wanted and dreaded to meet.

At that moment, Dan looked up, smiled warmly, and waved him over to a table in a quiet corner before standing to greet him and extending his hand, which Peter seemed almost afraid to shake.

How can he be so happy to see me, after the shitty way I treated him last night?

Dan’s voice was filled with concern. “Your hand is ice-cold, and you’re shaking. Are you all right?”

“I, uh, I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.” Peter choked back a sob.

He found himself pulled into a hug. “No, no. I’m the one who’s so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was such a goddamn fool.”

“I was a bigger fool.”

Watching Dan’s eyes dart around the room, Peter noticed that almost everyone was staring at them.

“Why don’t we continue this in my room? We can order breakfast from room service, if you’re hungry,” Dan offered helpfully.

Once inside the room, Peter hurried over to a couch and sat down.

“Well, I made a total ass of myself, in public,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“Not at all. As you always do, you showed genuine unbridled human emotion—something I love about you. There’s no guile, no hidden meanings, no bullshit.”

“I wish what you’re saying were true.”

“Never doubt yourself. Openness is definitely one of your finest qualities.”

Peter followed Dan with his eyes as he took a seat in a chair across from the couch. The coffee table was between them like a barrier island to keep them at a safe distance. They regarded each other warily without speaking for a minute or two.

Finally, Dan said, “Now that we have the mutual apologies out of the way, we need to talk.”

“OK. You first.”

“Fair enough. First, I’m sorry about the Irish good-bye.”

“At least you have a legitimate ethnic claim to it.”

They laughed awkwardly.

Dan chose his words carefully. “I’m not proud of myself, but I fucking panicked on the Zephyr. When I got the message in the middle of the night regarding the hostile takeover attempt, my thinking went on autopilot. I was terrified, because I had to get to New York as fast as possible, which meant getting on a goddamn airplane.”

He bowed his head. “I told you how much flying scares the shit out of me—so much so that I have always gone out of my way to avoid planes. Hell, I take a cruise ship to Europe when I have to travel there on business.”

Peter nodded and sympathetically. “We all have our little irrational phobias.”

“Don’t we ever! My mind was gripped by total fucking terror every second of that goddamn flight. White-knuckled doesn’t begin to describe the stereotypical anxious flyer that I am. Then, as soon as I landed at La Guardia, two of my VPs met me and rushed me to the office, way out on eastern Long Island.” Peter listened in silence.

“My worst fears were realized. A notorious arbitrageur was making a move to buy a controlling interest in my company. If he succeeded, he was going to strip off everything of value and trash the rest, including firing my entire staff.” He took a shaky breath.

“Even now, the three weeks after I arrived there are still a total blur. I lived on coffee and barely slept. We did everything we could to fight off the fucking corporate raider who was after us, but somehow the son of a bitch anticipated our every move.”

Dan continued, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe what he was about to say, “About two weeks into the battle, one of my IT guys came to me. He had been doing a routine backup of emails and discovered a shitload of them between my CFO and the would-be buyer.”

Peter looked up, surprised.

Dan nodded, “It turns out my trusted financial guy, who’d been with me for ten fucking years, was behind the whole goddamn thing. The raider promised he would be the new CEO and guaranteed a substantial pay-off when the company was liquidated. The prick had been leaking every plan and strategy of ours to the raider.”

“What did you do?”

“I fired the son of a bitch on the spot and had him escorted out of the building. We’re now litigating whether he’s entitled to the severance package in his contract, since he shit-canned the confidentiality clause.”

He paused to calm down a bit. “So, that was the turning point. Between coming up with some new ways to hold the bastard raider at bay, and making sure he knew I was fully aware of the crooked deal he had made, I busted his ass. If the SEC had found out, they would have prevented the takeover and likely brought charges against him. So we came to an understanding.”

“He gave up?”

“Not without getting me to agree to reimburse his ‘expenses’ of a million dollars.”

“You paid him off?” Peter exclaimed.

“It was the price to end the whole sordid affair. We’ll take a hit on the balance sheet this year, but the company itself is strong and resilient, so we’ll recover quickly. The alternatives—either a full-blown SEC investigation or maybe a long drawn-out court battle—were just unacceptable.”

Peter was silent. He was seeing Dan in a totally new light.

On the train, he was relaxed, laid back, confident, calm, and compassionate. He treated me with gentleness and love. This man sitting across from me is a total stranger.

“I’m glad everything worked out for you, and for the people in your company. You have a real talent for negotiation and—”

“And what?”

“Oh, I don’t know exactly. I guess I mean the kind of take-no-prisoners combat that appears to be necessary to succeed in the business world.”

“Is that so bad?”

“No. Not for the people who live that world. It’s just—”

“What, then?”

“You live in a world I’ve heard about but never seen for real, one where I would never fit in, nor do I believe I would ever want to.”

“Peter, I didn’t mean to upset you. I told you all this in the hope you would understand why I left the way I did, and that would lead you to find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Peter’s expression softened. “Let’s work backward. Dan, of course, I forgive you. Forgiveness is something I used to assure people of, so that part is a given.”

His face betrayed his reluctance to say more. “As for understanding why you did what you did, the best I can say is ‘I guess so,’ if by understanding you’re thinking about a purely intellectual exercise, a rational evaluation of facts.”

“What other kind is there?”

“Something at an entirely different level—empathy. It allows a person to put himself in the place of another and realize he might have acted in the same way under the circumstances, or at least have given it appropriate consideration.”

“You don’t have empathy for me?” Dan sounded shocked and hurt.

“I hear your rationale for what you did, but I honestly can’t imagine myself doing anything like that if I were in your place. I’m sorry.”

Dan’s voice took on an edge. “What the fuck would you have done?”

Peter carefully considered how to say what he wanted to convey. “Listen, I admit I don’t know anything about high finance, but in my previous profession, I encountered a lot of people, including bad ones like your corporate raider.”

“So?”

“I think, I hope, I would have taken a completely different approach.”

Noting Dan’s raised eyebrow, Peter went on, “I believe I would have made an effort to reason through the situation with everyone concerned. I would have tried to find common ground, a mutually acceptable solution, a win-win. Most of all, I wouldn’t have viewed the negotiation as a zero-sum game, where if you don’t win everything you want, you lose.”

Dan sat back and glared at him.

He spoke severely and deliberately, “You would have been eaten alive. You would have ended up with fucking nothing, and so would all the people who depend on you. You’re right, Peter, you would never fit in the corporate world I live in, not with your Pollyanna ideas.”

Peter recoiled from the condemnation. “You’re partly right. I like to think that I, with my Pollyanna ideas, would have come to a different result than you did, but I would not have been left with nothing.”

“How so?”

“I would still have my integrity, my faith in humanity, and the knowledge I acted morally, ethically, decently, and remained faithful to my principles.”

Dan’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment at being called out in such harsh words. “I’m sorry you think I was unethical and immoral and all the rest.” He could barely contain his indignation.

“Dan, I have spent years seeing the difference between the sin and the sinner, and those things are not who you are. They’re simply how you acted in this situation.”

“Well, bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” Dan parried sarcastically. “To you, it may look like I’m morally fucked up, but I don’t give a shit. I did what I believed was right, what I still fucking believe is right, and I’m not sorry for one goddamn thing I did.”

“Including leaving me in the lurch?”

Dan froze and then spoke quietly, “I never meant to do that.”

“And what exactly were you thinking would happen when we got to Emeryville? Were we going to kiss good-bye and go our separate ways anyway? If so, then what difference does it make that you bailed on me eight hours before then?”

Taking a deep breath, Dan confessed, “To tell the truth, Peter, I intended to discuss all that with you that very morning. I never meant for us to separate. In fact, the reason I was going to San Francisco was to look into opening an office there. Before the cost of the hostile takeover, we had enough capital to start a hedge fund, and most of them are located out here.”

Peter was flummoxed. “Oh, I see.” Then he reddened. “But you never got around to that, and you never got around to telling me you...” he whispered, “cared for me.”

“I do care for you. In fact I care for you now, and I did then, so much so that in spite of my aching desire for you and eagerness to tell you I love you, I forced myself to go slow and not rush you into anything.”

Dan’s voice trembled, “I could tell this was all new to you, so I stifled my usual aggressiveness and did my best to ease you into whatever it is that you wanted.”

The two men sat in stunned silence, heads bowed and not looking at each other.

What the hell just happened? Did we have a fight? Did we destroy any chance we might have had to be friends—or lovers? Why did I push him so hard? Why did I make him so angry, when all I wanted was to tell him I love him? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Dan lifted his head. “So, where does this leave us?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Peter replied, shaking his head remorsefully. “I’ve—I’ve been seeing someone.”

“Seeing?”

“Fucking. He calls it friends with benefits.”

“So he’s not serious.”

“I guess not.”

“How did this happen?”

“We met at a party. We talked. We kissed. It went from there.”

“Almost like it was with you and me.”

“Almost, but he called me the next day.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“I’m not saying the situation was in any way the same. You had a crisis to deal with. If he had one, I expect he would have been distracted, and he might not have called me.”

“Can I ask who?”

“His name is Rob Stryker. He’s a software engineer in Silicon Valley. He’s experienced. He taught me things. He was patient and helpful. I needed to get beyond being the cloistered little ‘monk’ that you met on the train.”

“I’d like to buy the goddamn company he works for and fire his ass!” Dan’s eyes twinkled.

Peter chuckled, “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Oh, right. Here’s me being heartless and unprincipled again.”

“Dan, he was there for me, and he helped me when I needed it.”

“All the things I should have done.”

“No, you were gentle, and kind, and loving, but—”

“But I fucked up because I didn’t leave you a better note.”

“No, you fucked up because you left me thinking you didn’t care. You panicked. I realize that. I don’t blame you for panicking, but the next four weeks? That’s harder to understand.”

“But he doesn’t love you? It’s just casual sex whenever he wants it.”

“Whenever we want it, which is a couple of times a week.”

“Are you using protection? You said it was not exclusive, so I assume he has multiple partners, not just you.”

Peter was startled. “Um, I don’t know why I need to tell you, but yes. Rob gets a shot every two months and—”

Dan jumped in, “That works for HIV, but there’s a lot of other shit you could catch.”

“From him? Is that what you’re saying, or are you suggesting I'm sleeping around?”

“Shit, Peter. I don’t know what the fuck I’m suggesting. I’m sorry. I’m just so upset I can’t think straight.”

“I’ll take that to mean you care about me, so I'll tell you we also use condoms, every time. And lube, since I’m so new at this.”

“The need for lube hardly ever goes away.”

“I was beginning to figure that out.”

They sat in silence again.

Dan sighed sadly. “I always meant to be your first.”

Anger clouded Peter’s face. “Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you fucking tell me that! You left me in the cold. You broke my heart.” He choked on the words.

“Peter, I—”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. It doesn’t help. It doesn’t change anything. And don’t tell me finding me was the most important thing in your life. Above all, don’t tell me you want to put all that behind us and start over, or some fucking bullshit like that.”

“I can’t think of what to say,” Dan whispered, his eyes welling with tears.

They stared at each other across the divide.

After another painful silence, Peter stood and said, “I’d better go now.”

“Why?”

“What else can we do?”

Sadly, Dan shook his head.

Peter stepped around the coffee table and Dan rose to his feet.

“Good-bye, Dan. I’ll never forget you.” Peter hugged him lightly.

Still overcome by the unexpected disaster, Dan only stared at him and said with a quaver in his voice, “Bye, Peter.”

Waiting for the elevator, Peter asked himself, Why doesn’t my heart hurt any more than it does? Why am I not crying or begging him to take me back? Why did I give him a hard time, alienate him forever? What the hell is wrong with me?

Driving back to Baxter’s house, Peter went over the whole painful conversation again and again.

How did things take such a deadly turn? Why didn’t we stop and say how much we love each other?

He wiped away a tear.

The only answer I can come up with is the one thing I don’t want to accept: we let the discussion become poisonous because we both wanted an excuse to end the relationship, and neither of us dared admit that our love affair—if that was ever what it was—is over.

Bax and Julio were nowhere to be found when Peter returned to his room.

If they’re even awake yet, they’re probably up in their room, making love—precisely what I wish I were doing.

He tried to sit in his room and read, but he couldn’t concentrate. He got back in Baxter’s car and drove to campus. He had no appointments in the afternoon, but he might at least find something constructive to do in the academic surroundings.

As Peter walked down the corridor toward his office, he saw Richard Egerton, one of his grad students, standing nearby. When he reached the door, the young man came up to him.

“Richard. What can I do for you?”

“Do you have a minute, Doctor Ruxton?”

“As a matter of fact, I have nothing at all on my calendar. What’s up?”

Egerton eased into Peter’s office. His movements were those of a man who was either scared to death or dying of embarrassment.

Peter closed the door and took his seat behind the desk. “Please sit down, Richard. Would you like a coffee or tea?”

“No thanks, Professor. Uh, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Haven’t you already seen your grade? You got an A.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about my grades. Actually, it’s a personal matter.”

Peter immediately shifted from “professor” mode to “counselor.”

“Why don’t we move over there?” He motioned toward a couch and easy chair at the other end of the room, where he normally did his counseling. The less formal seating was in contrast to the power dynamic of the teaching side of the space.

Egerton sat on the couch. Peter noted how the young man’s body language exposed his anxiety.

Something is burdening him almost beyond bearing.

“Richard, take a deep breath and when you’re ready, tell me what’s on your mind.”

The student smiled at him, sighed, and leaned back on the cushions.

“I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Anywhere is fine.”

“OK. The thing is, first, I need to tell you I’m gay.”

Peter found himself thrust back to the scene in the confessional where a similar young man had begun with the same words. Realizing he absolutely must not appear shocked or unsympathetic, Peter smiled his encouragement. “Go on,” he prompted gently.

“That’s not the reason I need to speak with you. I’m glad I am who I am. When I was around fourteen, I figured out I was gay, and I haven’t kept it a secret from my family and friends.”

“But there is a problem.”

Egerton nodded sadly. “I’m in love with a man. We’re in love with each other. Yesterday, we had a hell of a fight, and now I’m not sure how I feel. Worse, I have no idea how he feels.”

“Can you talk things over with him?”

“We’ve tried. But every time we start, it’s the same old shit. Oh, sorry sir.”

Peter shrugged it off with a smile.

“Every time we try to talk, the same, uh, things, come up again and again.”

“What things?”

“First, I gotta say everything between us has always been fine. We’ve been friends for five years, and we have been lovers almost as long. The sex is out of this world. Uh, sorry.”

Peter shook his head and smiled again, grateful for his training in nonverbal communication.

“So, we’ve been together for along time, and I was sure our relationship was on solid ground. And then—”

Peter nodded his encouragement.

“And then the whole thing blew up. Over a stupid argument.”

An uncomfortable twinge rippled through Peter.

Keep this professional. Focus on his problems, not yours.

“What did you argue about?”

“Everything seems so damn trivial now, but we both dug in our heels and stopped listening to each other, and to our hearts.”

Peter felt a light sheen of sweat dampening his skin.

“The problem is, I’m a vegan, or at least I became one about six months ago.”

Peter willed himself to be professional.

There is a lot more to this than food.

“And your friend isn’t.”

“Right. He still loves meat and eats it at every meal.”

“And it bothers you?”

“No, not at all. I never try to tell other people how to live their lives. He can eat whatever he wants, I respect his right to make his own choices. But he’s constantly trying to persuade me to go back to eating meat.”

Richard frowned. “He hides or throws away all my non-animal-product food. He tries to trick me into eating dishes made with shit like chicken broth or beef fat or some other damn ingredient he thinks I can’t find or won’t notice.”

“That is a terrible thing to do, and certainly not respectful of you.”

“Right. Then we end up fighting, which leads to us sleeping as far apart in bed as we can. Not to mention—”

“Your sex life?” Peter supplied.

Nodding, Egerton sniffled. “Dried up,” he replied morosely. “I love him, and I miss him, and my body aches for him,” he added, choking back a sob.

“I’m very sorry, Richard. This must be a difficult time for you both, I’m sure.”

“So what should I do, Doctor Ruxton? I can’t eat meat, and I wish he’d accept me for who I am and let us be together in spite of our differences. That’s what real love is, isn’t it?”

Peter nodded. “Yes. You’re right. It is.”

Listen to me, shoveling the bullshit! I should try following my own goddamn advice.

The young man gazed up at his teacher and counselor. A tear streaked down his face. Peter sensed one rising in his own eye, so he coughed and surreptitiously wiped the drop away.

Leaning back in his chair, he cleared his throat before speaking as compassionately as he could. “Richard. I’m truly sorry for your trouble. And I’m sorry for its effect on your loving relationship. This is not your fault.”

Egerton’s face brightened.

“But if you want the relationship to heal and continue, you might have to be the one to take the first step. Sometimes being right is the wrong way to approach a problem.”

Richard’s face fell and he seemed doubtful. “So I have to do what?”

“A good place to start is to talk, together. Not about food, but about your love for one another. Isn’t love the important thing?”

The young man sniffled. “I guess so, I mean, yes! It sure as hell is!”

“So what would happen if you set aside the argument about who eats what and talked about how you feel about each other?”

Egerton’s voice quivered as he blurted out, “I think we’d forgive each other, kiss and make up, and jump into bed and make love.” He burst into tears of joy.

Peter gave up trying to hide his own tears. They rose and he stepped toward Richard, who closed the distance. He patted his student on the back, comforting him as they embraced.

After Richard’s sobs quieted, Peter said, “Do you believe you can do it, Richard?”

“I... I hope so.”

“I believe you can, too. And I believe you will. I truly hope it will work, for both your sakes.”

“Thank you, Doctor Ruxton.” Egerton collected himself, wiped his eyes with the tissue Peter handed him, before crossing to the door and looking back with a smile of relief. "Thank you so much."

“You’re welcome, Richard. Let me know how the conversation goes. I’ll be pra... I’ll be thinking about you.”

Unable to speak, the young man simply nodded and left.

When the door closed behind his student, Peter stood motionless and speechless.

What the hell? This was the complete opposite of the conversation I had only a couple of months ago with the young gay man in the confessional. What has happened to me?

He turned, walked over to the window and stared out. Down below, he could see Richard getting into his car.

I’m no longer the person I was, either in that damned confessional, or on the train, or this morning in Dan’s room. Now, I’m someone who can tell the truth, not as some cold, abstract, uncaring authority dictates, but as I believe in my heart to be true.

He bowed his head.

So why can’t I tell myself the goddamn truth? Why can’t I give myself the same advice I gave Richard?

He hurried over to his desk, picked up the keys to Baxter’s car, and dashed out of the building. Peter had his own confessional to attend to.