The Key - 1. The Key

Chester sat slumped in the overstuffed chair that one of his uncles had dragged in from the den and watched his great-grandfather sleep. The room had once been used as a dining room, complete with chandelier and wall-sized paintings, but it now served as a make-shift sick room. He had been tired, so very tired, and begged off when most of the family said they needed to get out of the house for a little while. He just wanted to sleep, but they wanted to get some fresh air. So, here he sat with the breathing corpse and direct orders to call them if the breathing stopped, hoping to stay awake and failing miserably.

“So, you got stuck with me?” the raspy voice growled out.

Chester looked up, startled. They said the old man had done nothing but breathe for a week.

“Yes, sir. They all went to get some food.”

“Heh, good, wanted to talk with you anyway,” William opened one rheumy eye and peered over at his great-grandson.

“Me?” Chester squeaked, his voice cracking once again, although he could have sworn he was past that stage.

“Yes, you. You're the one they named Chesterfield aren't you?”

“Yes, sir,” Chester admitted and his thumb stroked the keypad of his cell phone. One text message to his mother would be all it took to get him out of this awkward situation. His thumb pressed the first of several keys that would end up with his family rushing home.

“So, Chesterfield, when are you going to tell that boyfriend of yours that you love him?”

“Sir?” Chester gasped.

William laughed, a raspy, hacking sound with a wheeze mixed in for effect. “Don’t sir me; you know exactly who I’m talking about. The redhead.”

“Benji?” Chester asked in utter disbelief, his thumb stilled on the keypad as the old man smiled. “He’s not my boyfriend. My best friend maybe...”

"You love him?”

It wasn't exactly a question, but it wasn't quite a statement either. Chester looked at his great-grandfather and quietly nodded.

“Then tell him,” the old man rasped out.

“Mother would...”

“Your mother be damned, boy; it's your life. Love who you will and don't let any one tell you that you can’t, shan't, or anything else. If you don’t stand up for what you believe in, for whom you believe in, you will regret it. Always. Right up until the day you die you will wonder what might have happened if you had said something, done something, changed one action. Taken the other path...” William closed his eyes and sighed. When he spoke again his voice was distant, thoughtful even, “I always wondered what my life would have been like if I had been able to stand up to society and love my Robert like he deserved to be loved. That boy deserved so much love. We had planned to run away together, to France. But then the war came and we both got called up. We ended up in France after all, side by side in a fox hole trying to hold on to a strip of land someone declared important and kill as many German boys as possible before they killed us. He died there. I still remember the wide shock of his eyes as he cried out, “Kiss me Billy-boy for I am no more”. I gathered him in my arms and kissed him until he breathed no more, then I turned back to the business of war and killed as many Germans as I could for taking my Robert from me.”

“You earned some ribbons didn't you? For valor and such?”

“Dozens of them, but none could bring Robert back. I came home from the war and married the first girl my mother introduced me to, but I never forgot my Robert. Just like you will never forget your Benjamin. Make memories, Chesterfield, make love. Promise me, my dying wish that you will tell him how you feel.”

“What if he rejects me? It's not so easy being gay.”

“If you felt this way about a girl, and she rejected you, what would you do?” William asked.

“Either keep pursuing her, or give up and go find someone who accepts my advances.”

“Then that’s what you do if he rejects you. Have they moved my bedroom around yet?”

“No, sir. Only grandfather has been up there.”

“Good...” William smiled and proceeded to tell Chester how to find a particular item in his room. “When you are ready, take that and your lover, and go to the address on it. You’ll understand when you get there. Just don’t go without your lover, it’s very important.”

Chester nodded, although he wasn't sure if he could ever follow his great-grandfather's request.

“And, Chester...”

“Sir?”

“If you decide you can't take the road less traveled, give that to someone who might. Now go get it before they tear up the house when I die.”

“Yes sir,” Chester said quietly as he left the room to follow his great-grandfather's directions. In a short order he turned up a small book of poetry with various papers stuffed in between the pages. There was yellowing tape holding the key to the front on the the key ring, an address. He stuffed the items in his pocket and returned to the side of his dying relative only to discover he was no longer breathing. His eyes were closed and there was a smile on his face. Chester leaned forward and kissed the still warm flesh, then sat back in the chair to text his mother.

Two years later, to the day, Chester and Benji arrived at the address on the key ring. It was an old building, one of the oldest in the city, they were certain, although they had never been there before. They were greeted at the reception area by a well dressed young man who took their names, asked their business, examined the key on the ring, and asked them to have a seat. When they were finally called back, another man led them into in a well decorated office where a group of old men sat around a conference table.

“Before we begin, we need to ask you a few questions, and authenticate your credentials. Could you hand the items to Frederick, please?”

Chester pulled out the book of poetry, minus the papers, which turned out to be private letters that he had not been able to make himself read yet and the key with the address on the key ring. One of the men stood and Chester handed him the items, then Fredrick left the room.

“What is your name and what was the nature of your relationship with the person who gave you those items?”

“I am Chesterfield Bradford Clemmings. William Joseph Bradford was my great-grandfather,” Chester said calmly, still not quite certain as to what was going on.

“And the young man with you, who is he?”

Chester blushed slightly, and then answered, “My beloved, but you may call him Benjamin A. Wenke.”

“The two of you are actively in a relationship of a homosexual nature?”

Both young men nodded.

“You are both over the age of twenty-one?”

“I am; Chester is not.”

“Over the age of eighteen?”

“Yes sir,” Chester agreed.

Fredrick returned. “The items are authentic,” he said with a silly grin on his face as he looked at the others in the room. The men in the room nodded as he sat back down, grins popping up here and there.

“If you could choose one last name between you which would it be?”

Chester looked at Benji and they leaned their heads together, whispering, then Chester nodded and Benji grinned. “We would prefer to keep neither, sir. Can we pick one of our own?”

"Of course," the man said. "Did you have one in mind?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"Well, we can fill that in later. Would you like to see what the key fits?"

“Please?”

One of the men pressed a button and the door opened. Two young men carried in an old safe-deposit box. “The contents of the box are old, and they belong to you in trust. All that means is that you can not leave here with them with out signing some paperwork. If you choose not to sign the papers, then you can always pass the key on to a new trustee. But I think the two of you will be pleased and will want to sign the papers.”

Chester looked at the box, at Benji, then at the man who spoke. “What papers?”

“Domestic partnership, name change forms, and a few other things that will tie the two of you together tighter than a married couple.”

“We, um, already have some of those papers,” Benji blushed and pulled out some papers from inside his jacket pocket. “We did the domestic partnership right after Chester turned eighteen. You’ll also find a marriage certificate in there. We spent a few weeks up north, you know, on vacation.”

The men picked up the documents and were pleasantly surprised. “Well then, this will not be a drastic change for you, although our paperwork will have some things in there that the standard forms do not. Would you be averse to signing them again?”

“No, sir, so long as the papers can reflect the fact that we were officially partnered on that date, not this one.”

“I think that can be managed,” the man smiled, “now open your inheritance.” He pushed the box over closer to Chester and Benji. Chester's hands shook as he lifted the lid and Benji had to help steady him. Inside they found some very old stock certificates, a couple papers that looked like deeds, another key ring with several keys of various functions on it, and a pair of rings, both very masculine in design. Chester sat the papers aside and picked up the rings. “I think these were meant to be worn.”

Benji nodded in agreement and picked up one of the rings, only to slide it onto Chester's ring finger. He was amazed that it fit perfectly. What was even more amazing was that when Chester slid the other one on Benji’s hand, it fit as well. It was only after they gave each other a nearly chaste kiss that they remembered they had an audience.

“Well, boys, would you like to see your office?”

“Office?” Chester asked uncertainly.

“Your great-grandfather didn’t tell you?”

“He...”

“William Bradford died two years ago, pretty much after telling this hard head to admit to his feelings for me then bring me to the address on the key ring. That’s pretty much what we did, give or take a few months.”

“So neither of you know?”

Both shook their heads. “Do you know who Robert Dudley is?”

“My great-grandfather mentioned a Robert, but no last name.”

“The key you brought here today belonged to Robert's Uncle Elrod. His partner's great-uncle began this company when he was a young man. When Elrod passed, the key passed to Robert with specific instructions. Robert took it with him to the War, and when his personal effects were returned, it was not among them. We suspected that Robert had a lover, but we never able to determine who he was.”

“My great-grandfather,” Chester supplied.

The man nodded, “So we had to wait. However, Elrod’s instructions were very clear and his trust unbreakable. The owner of that key is the primary trustee, and he, along with his partner, owns the majority of the company. However, in the absence of the primary trustee, there is an elected group of five who were to make decisions in his stead. That’s how we have been running for nearly one hundred years.”

“But now you are here,” another man smiled. “We will support you in any way possible. It’s just so nice to have presidents again.”

“But I don’t know the first thing about running a business,” Chester complained.

“Shh, we can learn, Chester. Your great-grandfather had faith in you, and so do I.”

Chester turned and looked at Benji, “But I didn't even want to sit with him that night. I was so tired, but they made me.”

“Chester, he wanted you to have it, us to have it.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe this will answer some questions,” one of the men interrupted them, “come along and you will see.”

They got up and followed the men down a hallway to an elevator, which they took to the top floor. “There are pictures of all our trustees on the walls. If you have one of your great-grandfather, we would like to put it up here next to Robert’s picture. This one was Elrod and his partner, and this one was his great-uncle, our founder, and his partner.”

Chester looked at the painting then at Benji, then back at the painting. The two men could be brothers. “What is his name?”

“Angus Fitzpatrick,” the man supplied and Benji broke out into laughter which quickly became hysterical and caused him to nearly hyperventilate. It took Chester a good ten minutes to get Benji calmed down so he could explain what set him off.

“Remember when we went to talk to my parents about us?”

Chester nodded. How could he forget that day? Benji’s father spewed hatred toward the both of them and told Benji that he would have the family business sold and the proceeds gamboled away before Benji could inherit a single dime.

“Well, love, you now own my family’s business. Angus Fitzpatrick is my thrice-great uncle.”

The directors looked at Benji and back at the painting and could see a family resemblance. “Well then, it seems that the key has gone around and back to where it first belonged, and the two of you have more right to this office and all its trappings than we could ever imagine.”

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