The Butler - 19. Chapter XIX

If he thought anything about my abrupt break of the contact, he didn't let on. Perhaps I had read more into it than intended by him; maybe just making sure I wouldn't lean out again. After a last look out over the lake, he smiled and turned for the path.

“Let’s find a place to get some breakfast. Maybe your idea is better; no rush,” he proposed, to which I could only agree. “If you know someplace near?”
I did, and we went back to the car.

Once back on the road, I directed us to a small diner I knew where we got coffee and some warm bread rolls, taking them with us. Then, after a 30-minute break, we continued on, arriving at the inn shortly after noon.

All was ready for us; two rooms had been made available, both with an ocean-view and as if on cue, we both appeared on the balcony at the same time.

“Well? You like?”

“I like,” he replied, looking at the surf and further out. “So what do you want to do?”

“Lunch?” I proposed.

“How about a walk on the beach, then we sit down for lunch?”

“Sure. Downstairs in five?”

**********

May 13th, 2011, Chatham, MA.

I like the beach and just love the sea. The salty air, the wind, the smell; the waves, crashing onto the shore. It makes me feel small but also free. Careless. With Cockle Cove on our right, you could walk straight over Harding Beach to the Stage Harbor Lighthouse.

The sun had come out but it wasn't exactly warm yet with 55 degrees; there were few people on the beach. Every now and then, there’d be a black speck turning into a lone walker, sometimes with a dog, but other than that it was deserted. The water was still too cold to walk through, but I'd taken off my shoes and socks, rolled up the trouser legs. It felt good, walking on bare feet on the sand. Greg had kept his shoes on at first but about ten minutes after we started, he'd asked for a stop and quickly took them and his socks off.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked as we were nearing one of the parking lots close to the beach.
He inclined his head.
"Why were you such a dick to me?"
We walked slowly and he'd shoved his hands deep in his pockets.

It took him a long while to respond. A really long while actually and I thought he might not even answer. The question was impulsive but I'd been wanting to ask it for some time. He stopped walking and turned to me.

"That's a valid question, and I will answer it. But before I do, I'd like to ask you something first."

"Sure..."
He exhaled as if he was gearing up for something hard.

"Do you know what D/s is?"

"What?"
I frowned. I had to have misheard that...

"D/s," he repeated, "...what it stands for. Do you know it?"
Not misheard then.

"You're referring to BDSM? Dominance and submission."
He inclined his head again.

"Correct..."
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.
"Alright, I didn't expect to speak about it here but I'll explain because it'll give you more context. If you'll let me...?"

"Sure."
By all means. I was all ears.

“I’m…difficult," he began, after taking a long minute to collect his thoughts. "I know that. I’ve always had a dominant personality, and my brothers will eagerly attest to that, but it first became apparent to me, what I am, seventeen years ago. I was 24, at the time and I had just started my first real relationship; his name was Paul.”

He paused there.

“I was not happy. I couldn’t understand why but, somehow, just being together was not enough. He was witty, smart, very attractive, easygoing and independent. To make a long story very short, it turned out that was the key; his independence. For some reason, I could not cope with it, it made me anxious. Very anxious, to the point of physical sickness. I was worried sick not knowing where he was, what he was doing. But as soon as he came home, it was alright. The anxiety subsided as soon as I knew he was there, heard his key in the lock. I didn’t understand, nor did he. The feeling came out of nowhere, I couldn't stop it. We looked for medication but that never worked. It created a lot of fights, which made me even more unhappy. I didn't want to fight, I just wanted to love him but he wouldn't, or rather couldn't, let me as I wished I could."

A boat lay upturned at the bottom of a dune and he nodded towards it, going over and sitting down. Leaning with his elbows on his knees, he looked out onto Cockle Cove.

"He convinced me seek help, to talk about it with someone. So I contacted a friend, a college buddy who had become a psychiatrist. I didn't go in much detail, but enough for him to refer me to a colleague of his. I met her a few days after and it was there, as I see it, where I became my true self. The real Greg.”

Drawing up my legs, I sat on top of the boat, wrapping my arms around my knees, waiting for him to continue.

“Neither Paul, nor I, expected the extremity of my…needs. At first, he thought he could handle it, and it was just small stuff she suggested he’d do, to meet me halfway; he’d call to tell me where he was, what he was doing, and my anxiety would subside. But as time progressed, and the meetings with her intensified and laid bare more about me, it just never was enough. I needed more. So much more.”

His eyes flicked over to me and he stopped there, hesitating.

“In a relationship, I need absolute control. I must come first. In his mind, in his heart; I will not accept a backseat to anything. It isn't role-play, it doesn't end after a few hours; it’s always there, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year, it does-not-stop, ever and it extends to everything in daily life, to normal routine. Things can always be discussed, argued about, but in the end, my decision, whether he agrees or not, is final. Paul could not deal with that. It went far beyond his desire for just role play or his willingness to meet me halfway. I needed him to defer everything to me, freely, always, day and night, and he could not live that way. He could not and did not want to, so, in the end, we broke up. Or rather, he ran from me as fast as he could, after a few months of it.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he looked pensive, remembering.

“A few weeks later he came back and tried his hand at blackmail, threatening to tell the world about me. He’d found out who my father was, that there was money to be had in publicly humiliating me. Less experienced, still idealistic and foolish, I panicked, so I went to my father and told him everything; he even spoke with the psychiatrist and then he…dealt with it, as he put it. And after it was all swept under the carpet, I swore I would never be brought in that position, ever again.”

“Wow,” I mumbled, resting my chin on my knees. A real gold digger, this Paul.
I shot him a glance.
“That explains a lot.”
It really did.

“I’m sure it does,” he replied, sourly. “Yet here we are. Thanks to the one person who knew it would take me right back into a similar situation, being out of total control, knowing I swore to never let it happen again.”

A lot of the recent past clicked into place. No wonder he’d been livid when he found out about the will. See, now I could somewhat understand his reaction to the situation but not all of it.

“Did you ever hear something from Paul after all that?”
My curiosity about that man got the better of me. I wondered what he looked like.

“No. My father got him to sign a confidentiality agreement and paid him off, to ensure he’d never contact our family again. Last I heard, which is years ago, he was entertaining some rich Japanese industrialist in Kyoto.”
Another piece of the puzzle clocked into place.

“And there hasn’t been someone since? I never heard it mentioned by your father, that you had a partner…”

“My lifestyle is very private. It’s a hard thing to live with, for me as well as someone else. It’s a solitary existence, for me as well as my partner. It's not something you share easily, you usually only have each other because outsiders just don't understand the dynamic. Having to tell my father; I felt humiliated. I never wanted to embarrass my family like that, ever again, so I kept my family at a distance."

"No one knows?"
He hesitated before answering.

"Seth knows, because of that whole episode. William doesn't, he was at college at the time. And there have been two relationships, so they know, but they would never tell. And, in general, they did not last long.”

“How long ago was the last one?”

“Eight years ago.”
Holy moly!

“So why not lower your…expectations? Something casual, you know; satisfy your…needs.”

“No.”
No room for doubt, there.

“Have you tried?”

“Yes, of course. I am a healthy male, Chris. Of course I tried. But I realized casual just does not work for me because there is no time to develop commitment and trust. This type of relationship requires both, it's not a quick fix for a few hours, and so I gave up looking. It takes a lot of investment, not in the least emotionally and time wise and from the very beginning mutual of interest, it has to feel right from both sides. I have not met someone who could, or wanted to be with me, and only once in the recent past has there been a chance for it, I thought, but I ruined that chance pretty much immediately.”

“What happened, then?”
He sought my gaze.

“I hired a PI, the day after I met you.”

“So you did have me investigated...”
He kept eye-contact.

“Yes. I did. It's not uncommon in my circles. I'm not apologizing for it because it is a necessary tool in this current world, where people look to take advantage of me or my family."

So that's how he'd found out. Another piece of the puzzle solved.
Alright, I could understand that. Weirdly, it didn't even anger me. It might have, a few months ago, but it didn't now. He owned up to it. I accepted his reason for it. Done.

"Will you listen without jumping to conclusions prematurely? It’s what got us into this whole mess.”
I nodded.

“I’d known for some time my father had hired someone named Christopher. I’d been here a few times, but we never met. You were away on some course or whatnot. You’d been here for about a year, I think, before I even spoke to you on the phone and I'll admit to being blown away, the first time I ever heard your voice. A young voice instead of the expected elder stiff-ass British one. I was intrigued, and it piqued my curiosity enough to come out here that very same day.”

He paused his explanation there, looking away and staying silent again for a long while.

“When I saw you…I thought you were a wonderful guy. Quick-witted, smart, caring, wild…attractive. We talked, deep into the night, do you remember?”

“Yes...”

“From the moment we started talking, I knew you were different. So uncontrolled; so free and opinionated, unrefined. I wanted to tame you, right then and there, have you all to myself. I couldn't believe my luck! I'd found someone!”

He spoke so passionately then, almost dreamlike, that all I could do was listen and stare.

“You were so at ease with me. Not scared, intimidated or placating; you were your own young man, but still willing to learn. I’ve never experienced that, before or since; someone who was just himself, who made no apologies for being just that; his true self. None of the relationships I’ve had came close to compare to what I felt that evening and I was floored by the feeling. It was new, amazing. I even stayed the night, something I’d never done before when visiting Father; I always left the same day but I found myself reluctant to leave, not wanting you out of my sight for even a minute. I even thought of visiting your room that night, another thing I’d never done before. I’ve never slept with someone before we both knew exactly where we stood.”

Hearing him speak like that, about me; it made my heart beat heavily. My mouth had gone completely dry.

“But I’d have done it, that night. I came very close to doing it. I stood at your door, twice. On the other side of it was what was mine. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, not knocking on your door. And back in my room, knowing you were inches away on the other side of that wall; it hurt, physically, to be so close and yet so far away.”

I swallowed. Wow…

“The next morning, I knew I had to leave; if I saw you, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself, that feeling was too strong and I couldn't handle it. So I left, before you or my father came down. When I returned to Chicago, I was full of ideas, plotting the future; you’d move out of there of course, and move in with me. I even called a realtor to start looking for a new apartment, better situated to social events; events we’d attend together. I wanted to show you off to the world! I went a little…crazy.”

Oh my god...

“In hindsight, I realize I never thought you might refuse. It just never entered my mind. As an afterthought, I hired a PI, just to be safe, to check out your history. Cover all ends. But the moment he came into my office with his evidence, it all went wrong. A male prostitute, he told me; you had to be a gold digger, he said and my mind just went….blank. I believed him, blindly. Without knowing it, you hurt me by destroying the image I had in my head of you. That…well, it broke me.”

Dumbfounded I just stared.

“You can’t imagine how angry I was; my whole image of you was completely, utterly shattered.”
He inhaled deeply.
“Every time I came here; the moment I saw you again, I thought about that night and blamed you for ruining the future. Which made me get mad at you all over again. So I swore to destroy you. If I couldn't have it, no one would.”

"Fuck," I said, softly. I didn't know what else to say.
It was a lot to take in and yet, I understood it. Most pieces of the puzzle clicked in place now.

“Flash forward to this year," Greg continued, "the will forcing us together, the assumptions I made from the get go...I'm not proud of them. My only excuse is I am very possessive, very jealous and very territorial, and when it comes down to it, those all apply to you. I'm blinded when it comes to you because I've considered you mine from the moment we met."

As declarations of love went, this longwinded one was an Oscar winner. And this was one, if I ever heard one.