Bloodlines - 51. Chapter 51

April 6, 1999

Jason came up to me while people were voting with a concerned look on his face. “I was wondering who you wanted to supervise the vote count, to watch out for you.”

I thought about that for only a second. “Peter. I'd like Peter to do it.” I figured that he'd gotten me into this, so he'd look out for my best interests. Besides, the only other person that was totally on my side was Matt, and he'd end up killing Jerry. Fine way that would be to win an election, I thought playfully: Have my boyfriend murder the opposition.

Jason smiled and nodded. He obviously held Peter in high regard, although I still hadn't figured out yet if they were a couple, or even just fuck buddies. The gossip in me decided I needed to make more friends so I'd know who was doing whom. I turned to look at Matt. I was watching the people vote, but Matt wasn't doing that. His eyes were fixed on Brian, on this guy that had maliciously tried to ruin his life. I could feel the latent rage in him. “Let it go,” I said to him.

“I can't. You weren't there. You didn't see him, how much he enjoyed torturing me, how much he got off on trashing Thanksgiving for all of us,” he spat out bitterly. JP and Stef were on the other side of him and heard him, and both of them turned to look, and to passively join in on the conversation.

“No, but I was there at the hospital where your parents came to see you. I was there when they finally figured out that they loved you. And they were so nice to me, making sure that we were together. When I walked into the hospital room, your mother automatically got up and gave me her place by your side.” He looked at me and kind of blinked. I guess he didn't know that.

“So?” he demanded.

“So you won, we won. He tried to fuck up your life, to ruin your relationship with your parents, and he failed. It's stronger now than it's ever been. Now you're out and so am I, we're together, and your parents love you.” I didn't get it. He won, Brian lost. Victory. What could be better?

“You don't get it. That asshole hurt me, he hurt me badly. He hurt my parents. He ruined Thanksgiving for my family,” Matt said emphatically.

“Aren't you happy now?” I asked. I looked deep into his eyes, making him tell me, making him remember that he loved me.

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. Then he gave me that cute little grin that always melted me.

“Well, if you ask me, Brian doesn't look happy. He looks fucking miserable. So miserable he's sleeping with Professor Whist.” We all stared at Brian and he gave us this look, so full of anger and hate, we all started cracking up.

“Brian must not enjoy alone time with Benjamin,” Stef joked. JP gave him a dirty look.

“What's alone time?” Matt asked innocently.

“Never mind,” JP answered. And once again he was irritated and the rest of us found it hilarious.

I nudged Matt. “You want to make him miserable? Just be happy. That seems to really piss him off.”

Jason went back up to the front of the room with a paper in front of him. “We have the results from the election. Next year, our president will be Wade Danfield.” There was a loud round of applause. I stood up briefly to acknowledge it. Everyone seemed happy except Whist, Brian, Jerry, and a few of Jerry's friends. “The Vice President will be Patricia Forrest. The Secretary will be Peter Parker. And the Treasurer will be Alex Goldfarb.” I fought back the politically incorrect thoughts that flew through my head, that this club that fought so hard against stereotypes had picked a Jewish guy to be Treasurer.

I saw Brian and Jerry talking to Whist, arguing with him, until he finally caved and stood up. “As the faculty advisor to this club, it has been my policy to largely stay in the background. I am bound, however, to step in when there are irregularities in something as important as an election. I feel compelled to declare this election null and void.”

We just sat there, all of us, really surprised. Jerry and Brian had really smarmy expressions on their faces. I was trying to figure out what to do when Jason asked the question we were all wondering. “Professor Whist, please explain what irregularities you see.”

“I am not required to identify them,” he said nervously.

“I'm looking at the results, and the most contested election, the one to replace me as President, wasn't even close. Of 48 votes cast, 40 votes were cast for Wade.” Jerry looked really pissed off that the results were made public, and that he looked like a complete idiot. “I'm not quite sure how much clearer the results could be.”

“I am not required to disclose my reasons in this venue,” he asserted.

“Yes you are,” said a voice close to me. JP stood up. “As a faculty advisor, you have a responsibility to act honestly and fairly. By those precepts alone, you must identify why you are taking these actions.”

“You have no right to raise issues here!” Whist said, almost a shriek.

“I hereby recognize Professor Crampton,” Jason said, giving JP the floor. “Now he does,” he said to Whist.

“It is my judgment that these elections were flawed. If the majority of the members here do not share my viewpoint, I will step down as faculty advisor,” he said. And now it was all clear to me.

I stood up, but I wasn't nervous. Speaking to a group, arguing in public, this wasn't something foreign to me. “Professor Whist, you have offered students in your class extra credit if they attended this meeting,” I said to him. “The students that came here were probably desperate for the points.” That got a chuckle or two. “But it still took a lot of courage for them to show up here. One of the problems we face is that homosexuality isn't accepted on this campus as well as it should be. They risked their own reputations to be here.” I turned to the audience. “I'm sure I speak for all of the regular GLBT members when I thank you for your show of support and solidarity. We appreciate it.” It was cool to see some of them smile proudly, like they were being all noble.

“I fail to see what that has to do with any of this,” Whist snapped at me.

“Because if these students vote for you to leave us as faculty advisor, they may just incur your wrath,” I said. Now it was the two of us, facing off.

“They aren't the cowards you take them for,” he said, trying to use the same trick I used on Jerry.

“No, they're not cowards; they're students who are worried about their grades. But let us be candid. I have been duly elected President of this club. When I take office in the fall, my first goal will be to replace you as faculty advisor anyway.” I looked at JP meaningfully and he nodded slightly. “Professor Crampton has agreed to fill that position.” Whist stared at me, so pissed he couldn't speak. I turned to the members and addressed them. “I think that having Professor Crampton as our advisor will benefit the club enormously. He'll bring a lot of prestige to our club,” I said, implying that Whist didn't. “First of all, he is a full professor, not an associate or assistant professor.” If I'd have slugged Whist in the stomach, I wouldn't have had a bigger impact. “In addition, he's a department chair. His status increases our credibility.”

“You want him to work with you, fine. Go ahead. I'm done. I quit!” he yelled. Then he turned his full fury toward JP, who merely stared back at him calmly. “It figures you'd do this to me, stab me in the back, after you dumped me for that dilettante. That intellectual neophyte,” he said, pointing at Stef. The students in the crowd were intensely focused on this rare interchange in public between two professors, and about their love life no less.

JP eyed him with this amused, patronizing expression that only seemed to infuriate Whist more. “Only you, Benjamin, would think that one of the richest men in the world, a man who started with nothing and now has enough money to buy this whole city, maybe even a couple of them, was an intellectual neophyte,” JP said to him coldly. “He's kind, he's compassionate, he's smarter than you'll ever be, and he's the best lover in the world.” The implication was that Whist wasn't, which fascinated everyone. The students were transfixed by this, their eyes flowing from JP, to Whist, to Stefan, who, for the first time that I could remember, was blushing.

“Professor Whist, as President of this club I accept your resignation. The elections stand. Congratulations to Wade, Patricia, Peter, and Alex,” Jason said, and then turned to the members. “I hope to see you all back here next week. Hopefully things will be a little less drama.” Whist stood up, threw his head back, and strutted out of the room, looking completely ridiculous. Brian and Jerry trailed after him.

“Holy shit dude. I'm not gay, but that was fucking awesome,” I overheard the guy Peter knew say to a friend of his. “I might come back anyway.” And everyone else pretty much filed out after them.

“Looks like you picked up a new gig,” I said to JP.

“Looks like it,” he said.

“Thank you for defending me,” Stef said, gazing into his eyes adoringly. “You are my hero. You always have been.”

“And I always will be,” JP said.

April 21, 1999

I walked down the hallway of Lag and headed to my class as usual, only there was nothing usual about today at all. The whole campus was in mourning, the whole place was covered in a palpable state of depression. Yesterday, two Columbine High School students had apparently completely lost it and had killed 12 other students, a teacher, and then themselves. I thought about it and all the emotions flooded over me, the same ones I'd been experiencing all night. The sadness, the horror, and the shame. Of them, the shame was the hardest thing to bear, because I had to bear it privately. Because I was too embarrassed to reveal my true reaction.

I thought about that and freaked out yet again. My first reaction when I heard about the shooting was to assume that it was some inner-city school. I expected to look at the video and see East Denver, not Littleton. And I expected to see black people, not white people. Then when I found out it was a couple of white guys, I had to deal with all that shit, with the latent racism that I was sure lived inside me and which I was always trying to weed out. So then I'd figured that they were a couple of hicks from some high school out in the cornfields, but the videos showed that they were white suburban kids. Kids like me. Kids like Beau. What would I do if that had happened to Beau? I'd gone from shame to panic.

There were a number of students at Stanford from Colorado, and they had it worse than I did. And the one who had it worst of all was Allison, Cole's girlfriend. Her stepbrother was one of the shooting victims. Allison, so nice and sweet, had just lost it. She had flown back today and Cole went with her, and that had really freaked Matt out, even though he paid for Cole's air fare. He wasn't willing to give Cole credit for being strong, for rebuilding himself emotionally. He didn't see Cole as the guy who had finally kicked off the yoke of insecurity his mother had saddled him with, he saw Cole as being vulnerable and fragile. So on top of all my bullshit, and on top of feeling bad and trying to think of stupid thoughtful platitudes to try and make Allison feel better, futile as it was, I had to deal with his bullshit, with his worrying about Cole. I told myself that I was just letting myself get pissed at him to hide my own issues, and the unfairness of that sent me into another tailspin of self-flagellation.

“Hey,” Cramer said, as he caught up with me and started walking to class.

“Sup?” I asked.

“Dude, you're like the only one who isn't freaking out about this Columbine thing,” he said. I couldn't tell if he admired me for not letting me emotions fly out of control, or condemned me for being an unfeeling piece of shit.

“What do you want me to do?” I demanded defensively. “Cry my fucking eyes out?” Which I'd done, but I didn't tell him that.

“No, I'm sorry. It's just cool to be around someone who's acting normally.” Once again the Danfield stoicism was working against me.

“You study for this quiz?” I asked, changing the subject.

“A little. Probably get my ass handed back to me,” he said as we walked up to the building. An hour later found me walking back to Lag with Cramer, him with his ass handed back to him, and me with another ‘A’ on a quiz. Sometimes my perfect grades pissed me off. Sometimes I dreamed of getting an ‘F’, of fucking up on purpose, but my psyche refused to let that happen. I got back to Lag, beating Matt home, and just collapsed on my bed. This whole thing, this whole nightmare, was tiring, eroding away my normal self-composure.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, I heard sirens outside. I jumped to my feet, really freaked out. What if there was another Columbine, a copy-cat crime, only right here at Stanford? I looked around and freaked out because Matt wasn't back from class yet. I almost went into full panic mode until I calmed myself down. By then the sirens had abated. I heard a commotion in the halls and jumped up to look out the window. There, in front of Lag, was a limousine with two motorcycle cops as escorts.

There was a loud knock on the door and I knew that this time it would be my father. My mother wouldn't be important enough to command a motorcade, and while my father usually wasn't either, there must be some reason he felt the need for extra security. I got up and walked to the door and there he was, looking just like me.

“Hello Wade,” he said. I just glared at him, and then opened the door to let him in.

“Welcome, Senator,” I said with a sneer. I could kick his ass from here to Santa Cruz; physically he couldn't hurt me. I had nothing to fear from being alone with him now. Just as they'd done with my mother, the security guard came in to check out the room first, then left. Still, it kind of freaked me out when my father locked the door behind him. “What brings you all the way out to California?”

“I came to see you,” he said calmly. “I was in Colorado talking after that horrible Columbine nightmare, and decided to fly another time zone over and visit you.” Now he was turning on the charm.

“Your charm won't work with me. I have no desire to see you,” I spat.

“I don't blame you,” he said. “But I had to come out here and look you in the eye and tell you that I'm sorry for what I did, for molesting you all those years.”

I looked up and straight into his eyes and saw two things I'd never seen in them before: sincerity and remorse. Of all the shit I could have guessed he'd pull, this was the furthest from my mind. “Why was that so important?” I demanded. I was stalling for time, trying to figure him out, but I noticed that my voice had softened a little bit, and that pissed me off. He noticed it too.

“Because of what you told your mother. Do you remember? You told her that it would be impossible to forgive someone who never said they were sorry.”

“You think I'm going to forgive you? You really think that?” I asked him, laughing as I did. I sounded hysterical, even to myself.

“I don't know Wade. I can only hope that someday you'll be able to. But until I tell you that I'm sorry, it will never be possible.” He was so calm, so sincere, it was really surreal.

“You came all the way out here to apologize to me?” I asked him, the hard edge on my voice fading.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“You could have called, you could have written,” I said, getting my sneer back.

“You know me Wade. You know all of my faults. You know I'm a damn good liar, and you know that I'm usually full of shit. I knew that unless I sat in front of you and looked you in the eye, you'd never believe me. And I need you to believe me, now, about this, more than anything else.” A tear fell down his cheek, and that really freaked me out. I had never seen my father cry. Never. Not when his parents died, never.

“So what do you want from me? You want me to just forget that you abused me for six years, kept me in a virtual jail on that fucking compound? You want me to pretend that nothing ever happened?” I demanded.

“No, I just wanted to say that to you. You don't have to do anything other than listen. I know it will take time, a lot of time, until you'll willingly be in the same room with me again. But I wanted to start the process. I needed to get the ball rolling.”

I was about to respond when there was arguing in the hall, followed by the sound of a key in the lock. “I live here, so leave me the fuck alone,” I heard Matt say as the key turned. He breezed into the room with fire in his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he said to my father. Matt the volcano. It made me smile.

“I just came to talk to Wade,” my father said calmly, and that really surprised me. He didn't tolerate that kind of treatment from anyone.

“It's alright Matt,” I said, calming him down. I motioned to my father to sit down on my bed, and pulled Matt down on his bed next to me for support. “He came here to apologize for abusing me.”

“And you believe him? You know how full of shit he is. What is this, some kind of ploy? He's running for re-election and he needs a happy family around him?” Matt demanded. I watched my father blanch at that, but he said nothing. Fuck. I was so much like him.

I looked straight at Matt. “Actually, I do. I do believe him.” I looked back to my father and saw him smile, and another tear, then another, fell down his face. Matt just looked at him, then at me, amazed. “But he still hasn't told me why he did it.”

“Matt, I know you love Wade. I know you're angry at me, and you have every right to be. But you're kind of a hot-head.” I chuckled at that, Matt didn't. “I want to explain this to Wade, and you know enough about me to ruin me, so I don't mind talking about it in front of you, but I need you to give me a chance to get it all out before you try and beat me to a pulp.”

“Try?” Matt asked. That made me chuckle again, and even got a smile from my father. I squeezed his hand to thank him for adding some levity. “I'll keep my temper under control.”

But my patience was at an end too. “Why?” I demanded.

“To show you how much I love you,” he said sadly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked loudly.

He nodded. “Just like my father did to me.”

I stared at him, stunned. I was speechless. I felt Matt's hand flutter in mind, and knew that he was just as freaked out as I was. Then I got suspicious. I looked my father straight in the eyes, in the blue eyes that were just like mine. “You're telling me that Grandfather did the same thing to you?”

“Yes,” he said. Tears poured down his face now. “Only he started earlier. He started when I was seven.”

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to console him for having to deal with this; another part hated him for being the monster that did it to me. We all just looked at each other for a few minutes, until we heard chants outside. “Nazi pig!” they screamed, over and over again.

“I'm not too popular here in this liberal bastion,” he said. “Even though my views on gay rights have moderated. I probably should leave before there's a riot.” There wouldn't be a riot.

“Let's go,” Matt said. “I know where we can go and not be bothered.” I looked at him and our eyes met. Escorial.

My father looked very nervous. “It's your turn to trust me,” I said. He nodded. We followed the security guards out of Lag. No one said anything in Lag, they wouldn't be that rude, but there was a crowd, and they were intensely curious.

“That's Senator Danfield,” I heard some say. I was used to that, I was used to the crowds, angry or otherwise.

We got into the limo, ignoring the shouts and boos from the crowd, while Matt gave the motorcycle cops directions to Escorial, then he climbed in with us. There were tons of Stanford cops there to keep order as well, and it occurred to me that my father had taken a chance, politically and personally, to come here and talk to me.

Before either one of us could say anything, my father said “Let's not talk in the car.” I nodded. Bugs could be anywhere. “So where are you taking me?”

“Matt's grandfather has an estate here in the hills. It's on 25 acres and it's gated, so no one will bother us,” I said. The ride seemed a lot longer than it was. None of us wanted to make small talk. We drove up to the gates and I got out to punch in the code, then the motorcade, cops and all, cruised up the long driveway to the house. My father didn't comment on it. He'd been in nice houses before; shit, he'd been in the White House lots of times. We got out and Matt led us through the front door where we found JP, Stef, and Isidore waiting to see who had arrived with a police escort.

“Professor Crampton, this is my father, Senator Danfield,” I said, introducing them. “This is Stefan Schluter, and JP's wife, Isidore Crampton.” They exchanged civil, barely civil greetings.

“To what do we owe this honor, Senator?” JP asked calmly. Stef was seething, just like Matt had been.

“My father came to visit me and we needed a place to talk where the liberal crowds wouldn't try to lynch him,” I said, trying to add some humor.

JP smiled. “You are welcome to use my study, or Matt's room. Wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” my father said. He turned to his security guard and said something, and then the guard left. “I thought I'd get rid of the cops,” he joked. The others just nodded. For some reason, it seemed best to just head down to Matt's room, so that's what we did.

“This is where I stay when I'm not on campus,” I told him. “These people have all but adopted me.”

He said nothing for a bit. “I started seeing a shrink,” he told me.

“So did I,” I said. He nodded.

“He said that a lot of times abuse like this, like I did to you, it can be almost hereditary.” He saw me get irritated, like he was trying to foist off the blame on my grandfather. “I'm not making excuses, but you asked me why, and I'm trying to explain it.” He stood up and paced back and forth, then sat down again. I'd never seen him so agitated. “I can't ask your grandfather if he was a victim too, since he's dead. But I know that he hated his father as much as I hated mine, and as much as you hate me.”

“I don't get it. You know how horrible that made you feel. Why would you do that to me? Why me? Why didn't you love me?” I asked, and I knew I sounded pathetic.

“I loved you Wade, I always have, and I always will. Your mother has Beau, and I had you. That's why I never would have done anything to Beau.” Because he loved me more? Lucky me. I got fucked for six years for being so fucking lovable. It was interesting that he didn't mention Mary Ellen. She was hard to love. She was so much like my mother, not even my mother liked her.

“So you showed me that by raping me?” I demanded.

“It's the only relationship that I had with my father, the only time he paid attention to me,” he said. “I guess that seemed like the model.” He put his head in his hands and just sobbed for a bit, then looked up at me again, his eyes red. “It sounds so stupid now, so pathetic, so horrible, and it is. And it's hard to answer your questions when I want to ask my father the same ones.”

“You've never talked to me like this before,” I said. I felt myself losing control of my emotions. “I'm not talking about apologizing, I mean just talking. You never talked to me like a man. I tried so hard to make you proud of me, to make you love me. I did well in school, I did well in sports, I always won. That's what you said was important, and I did it. After you started fucking me, I figured that maybe I wasn't doing well enough, that maybe if I did better you'd stop. But you didn't. No matter how hard I tried, you didn't stop.”

“I'm so sorry Wade. I don't know what to do to make it up to you. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself, so I can't imagine how you can forgive me. For both of us, I had to try. I don't know how long this has been going on, how many generations have suffered like this. It doesn't look like you'll be having any kids, but just in case you do, at the very least; we can stop it here, with you. You can be the last Danfield to endure this.”

“You came here and dumped this on me, and I really don't know what to say,” I told him honestly. “I'm really confused. I've gotten used to hating you, to not having you in my life. I don't agree with you politically, I'm gay, and I have a boyfriend that I love. I'm not sure where we have any common ground to build on.”

“I'm not asking you to be a Republican, I'm not asking you to be straight, and I'm not asking you to dump Matt. I kind of respect the guy,” he said, talking about Matt like he wasn't sitting next to me. He turned to Matt and smiled, turning on his charm. It seemed so phony after seeing the real him. “If it wasn't for you Matt, we wouldn't be sitting here talking.” Matt said nothing, which was perfect. He was there for me, not to make my decisions for me.

“Does Mother know you're here?” I asked.

“She does. She loves you too, Wade. In her way.” That last phrase told me a lot about their relationship and my mother. She was cold as ice. Love was something that didn't weigh too heavily on her mind. But the mention of my mother had made us all really uncomfortable. “I should get back.”

We all got up and just stood there awkwardly for a few minutes. I looked at him then, eyeball to eyeball, trying to figure out what to say. “Thanks for coming to see me, Father. I don't know how I feel about all this, I have to work my way through it, like I said. But it was a good start. For the first time in a long time, I don't hate you.”

“Thanks, Wade,” he said sincerely. “That's more than I hoped, and more than I deserve.”

I stood there, really torn. I wanted to hug him, to make him feel better, to make him stop hurting. I didn't know why. Why shouldn't he feel pain for all the pain he caused me? But deep down, I guess I did care about him. Still, I couldn't do it. Part of me still found him repulsive. I took a step forward and put my hands on his shoulders, the most intimacy I could manage. I felt him flinch at the touch and he broke down completely, sobbing. Something I never thought I'd see my father do. Something I couldn't even imagine him doing. Finally, I dropped my hands, letting him go, and we led him to the front door and out to his waiting limo. None of us said anything else.

I watched the car drive away and felt light-headed, but there was Matt with his arm around me, giving me strength. “Thanks for being there,” I said, smiling at him.

“I'm always there for you,” he said, with that smile that always made me melt. “That's some heavy shit to deal with.”

“Yeah. I really think he was sincere, that he meant it. I'm so used to seeing him lying, I guess it makes sense that I'd see right through him when he wasn't,” I said, trying to joke.

“Are you going to forgive him?” Matt asked.

“You think I should?”

“I don't know. He seemed sincere to me too, but he hurt you really bad. This one is you, man. You gotta make the call.” It dawned on me that he was learning just how to handle me. I liked that.

“I think I need to talk to David about it,” I said, thinking about my shrink. “I'm supposed to see him next Tuesday.”

“I don't mean to intrude; I just wanted to make sure you're alright?” I heard JP say from behind me. I turned to see him and Stef there, looking worried.

“I'm fine. My father came out here to apologize to me, for doing, for doing that to me for all those years,” I heard myself say. “He said he was sorry, and for the first time I can remember, I think he's telling me the truth.”

“Did he tell you why he did it?” JP asked.

“Because his father did it to him,” I said. It was interesting how none of us seemed to question whether that was true or not. It was like somehow we just knew it was.

“You have a lot to think about,” JP said. “We'll leave you alone. Why don't you relax tonight, and I'll tell the club members you weren't feeling well.”

Shit. Wednesday night. The Club was meeting. I felt the conflict within me, wanting to go be a slug, but knowing that duty required me to go to the meeting. “No, I almost forgot about that. I'll go too. Can we have a ride?” JP looked at me like he knew what I was going to do before he even asked which made me smile. We had dinner and rode to the meeting, but the whole time I felt really disoriented. I just didn't know what to think of all this.

Fortunately it was a boring meeting, one that I could zone out of and use the time to think. Only thinking didn't really help me. My mind just looped around, caught in a trap of thinking about what he'd done, why, he'd done it, and whether or not I wanted to forgive him. Whether or not I even wanted him in my life. Yet there was something incredibly special about a father-son bond. I realized that when I thought mine had been broken, I sought out other men to fill that void. I looked over at JP. He must have felt me staring at him, because he looked back at me and smiled. For some reason, I'd chosen him to latch onto. He winked at me and I decided that I'd made a good choice.