Chapter Twenty
WALTER STILL WASN’T sure it was wise to let things keep going with Kelly, but since Kelly’s standard response to Walter’s doubt was to get naked, it was getting harder and harder to resist. He was developing a full-on association: relationship doubt equaled getting laid. It all got confused in his head, and eventually he gave up and went with it.
It was nice, really, so long as he didn’t let himself think about all the ways dating, especially dating Kelly, was a bad idea. When he focused on the right now, not the potential hell to come, things were great. Trouble was, Walter had never been a fan of the now. He liked to peer several miles down the road and see what was coming.
Of course, his now had an enthusiastic boyfriend determined to master the fine art of blow jobs. Now had a lot going for it.
Cara continued to plan out Walter’s wedding for him in addition to her own, which was annoying, but after Williams’s comments, Walter began to understand a bit better. Williams also seemed to be nudging Walter toward something serious with Kelly, but his endgame was harder to predict. Walter understood the next Philosophy Club meeting topic had been picked just for him—the moral philosophy of Jane Austen—but he couldn’t understand why. Perhaps it had been simply a nod to Walter’s report of how lost and frustrated Kelly had been at November’s meeting—prepping Kelly for the discussion was as simple as queuing up the right film adaptations on his laptop.
They took a week to work through them, starting with Pride and Prejudice because Kelly loved the Keira Knightley version, unsurprisingly. They read a bit of the novel together too, Walter pointing out passages he thought would get brought up at the meeting. They took on Sense and Sensibility next, because the Emma Thompson adaptation was so exquisite and the book was Walter’s favorite, and then, feeling they were ready, Walter took them to Mansfield Park.
“This one is a little boring,” Kelly admitted as they settled in.
Walter smiled and nipped playfully at his hair. “BBC production values aren’t often Doctor Who. There are other adaptations, but they aren’t half as accurate to the text.” He nodded at the screen. “Mansfield Park will get a lot of billing at the discussion. It’s Williams’s favorite, plus it has a lot of the romance stripped out. Which obviously will make it not your top story, but it means you can easier see the moral aspects. Fanny is your guide through this world: watch how everyone engages with her and what happens to them through the whole of the movie. Mansfield is thick with human foibles and consequences for bad choices. Watch too how Edmund helps her, and what happens because of that.”
They watched in silence for some time, first Kelly snug in Walter’s arms, but after a break to use the bathroom and brew coffee, they settled in with Kelly in front of Walter, Walter leaned back with Kelly’s head pillowed against his chest.
Kelly hated Mrs. Norris just as Walter thought he would. He frowned at her trying to block Fanny getting a horse, but when she planned to plunk her at home while they all went off in the barouche, Kelly lost it.
“She’s such a bitch!”
Walter caught his hand and stroked his wrist soothingly. “Some of it is of the times. There was something of an excuse of separating Fanny from the other girls, because she was of such a lower social status.”
“Yes, but how is that okay? They treat her like a drudge. They go too far.”
“They do, which I suspect you were meant to notice.”
“I hate Mary. She’s a snake. Edmund and Fanny should be together.”
That did surprise Walter. “Usually modern readers and viewers want to see Mary and Edmund together, because Mary is a bit of a roguish Elizabeth Bennet.”
“She’s too mean. Edmund is being led by his nose. Fanny is better.”
When Mary began to monopolize Fanny’s mare, Kelly threw up his hands.
“See? Bitch. God, and Lady Bertram is a dingbat. Edmund is too, when he’s under Mary’s influence. Otherwise he’s so good to her.”
Walter reached back and stroked Kelly’s hair and neck.
It was a long movie, more a miniseries in fact, and once Kelly got over the slower pacing, he seemed to settle in. It was interesting to track his empathy—he hated both Crawfords, despite the fact that Walter still bet Henry saw his share of young men when in London, and to engage a rather specific kind of billiards. Kelly was sorry for poor, fat, clumsy Mr. Rushworth, declaring Maria should have been glad to have him. While the play didn’t strike him as particularly awful, he didn’t care for them pressuring Fanny, and he got very upset at Maria and Henry’s kiss backstage. He groaned at Edmund and Mary making Fanny read for them together.
When the movie ended, with Fanny and Edmund properly matched, with Maria shamed and Mary shunned, at least by Edmund, they lay side by side on the futon, talking.
“I feel a little bad for Maria,” Kelly confessed. “She was a spoiled princess, but I wouldn’t wish her that kind of ruin. And of course that jerk Henry got away with the whole thing.”
“That was the times.” Walter stroked his arms. “You don’t regret poor Mary being turned off, just for wishing for what is now modern sentiment?”
“No. She only ever used Fanny.”
“Wouldn’t she have been improved, for being helped along by him?”
“I suppose.” Kelly trailed his fingers over Walter’s own, tangling his hand beneath, pressed his ring into Walter’s palm. “The thing is, you could tell right off they were supposed to be together, Fanny and Edmund.”
Red was full of twists and turns, wasn’t he? “So if Austen had opened with Mary and Edmund, you’d have rooted for them?”
“God, I don’t know. Maybe.” He rubbed his ring again, nudging it against Walter’s palm. “Except it wouldn’t have worked. It’s the same as Fanny with Henry. She was smart the whole time—okay, so maybe having a fit about a play is stupid now, but God, look what they all did with it. Really, she carried it all off, being the moral example even when Sir Bertram had lost his way. She deserved the happy ending.”
Walter smiled and turned around in their embrace, which meant he lay on his back while Kelly loomed over him. “You do realize you’re dating Henry Crawford. Minus the infidelity.”
“What? I am not.” Kelly tweaked his nose. “I’m dating Elizabeth Bennet, thank you very much.”
Walter laughed. “Does that make you Darcy?”
“God, no. I’m afraid I’m Colonel Brandon. Not a fine match on your end, Elizabeth.”
Walter stroked Kelly’s cheek. “No. You’re Edward Ferrars. And I think I’ve made a perfect match.”
This earned him a kiss, and then another—and they stopped talking philosophy or anything else, after that.
THEY SPENT THE last days of finals week making out and mapping potential scenarios for visitation over break, deciding they wouldn’t commit to anything specific until they’d been to their respective houses and taken stock of familial crises. At the very least, they’d meet up for New Year’s Eve and hang out the rest of break if they could.
Kelly left on Wednesday of finals week because he didn’t have anything set for Thursday and his dad could get away to pick him up. The three of them went to Opie’s for vegan-cheese pizza and what ended up being a quiet interviewing of Walter by Dick. This embarrassed Kelly, though when they made their private goodbyes later, Walter said he enjoyed it.
“I never thought I’d be the guy being grilled by an overprotective father for anything. I loved that he didn’t give a damn that I was gay but wanted to know if I was good enough for you.”
“You are. You’re more than good enough.” Kelly sighed when Dick tooted the horn. “We have to get going. I’ll text you, okay?”
Walter kissed him, long and lingering. “Go on. Don’t let your father blame me for making you late.”
Kelly got into the car, Walter’s kiss still burning on his lips.
Immediately, he realized something was wrong.
In hindsight something had been going on all afternoon, something that had nothing to do with Walter. When Kelly saw how much whatever it was bothered his dad, he found he was afraid to get the details.
Despite this, they weren’t in the car five minutes before Kelly turned in his seat and said, “Dad, what’s going on?”
Dick’s mouth flattened into a thin line before he expelled a heavy breath and said, “It looks as if your mom’s going to lose her job.”
The news hit Kelly in the center of his chest. “What?” His mom worked in a small independent insurance office with the owner and their shared secretary. “You mean Gary’s going to run the place on his own? He’s what, seventy?”
“That’s just it. He’s looking to retire and sell the business. We can’t afford to buy it. Likely the business will get absorbed by another firm. Maybe they will take your mother, maybe they won’t.”
Kelly stared at the dash, the hollowness in his chest slowly expanding. “Let me guess: there’s not much work for insurance adjusters in Windom.”
“Not so much, no. She’s got her ear to the ground, but she’s trying to play it cool in case Gary doesn’t sell or she can end up keeping her job. I asked at the bank, but they frown on spouses both working there, especially when they have differing seniority. It’s a long shot anyway, because we don’t have much open except the occasional teller, and that doesn’t pay what our family needs.”
“So are we in trouble for money?”
“Not yet.” Dick paused. “I hate to ask this of you, but we’re going to have to cut expenses for school as much as we can. And if your mom can’t find a job for an extended period of time or she has one with a reduced salary, I’ll need you to get a job this summer.”
“I can get one now.” Kelly tried to think of where he could apply off campus.
“No.” Dick’s tone brooked no argument. “I want you focused on school. She hasn’t lost her job yet, and I don’t want your attention divided.”
Kelly wanted to argue that he could do both job and school, but he decided he’d look around on his own and see what he came up with. He wanted to punch stupid Gary Johnson in the face for putting them through this. It wasn’t as if they had a lot to spare anyway, and now this. He slumped in his seat. “I’m sorry my school is so expensive.”
“Don’t do that.” Dick glanced away from the road to give Kelly a heavy look. “This isn’t your fault. I hate that I have to even ask you to help us economize.”
“I’m still in this family. Of course I’m going to help.”
“You’re not to think your school is a problem. The last thing your mother and I want is for you to let this affect your studies. We worked hard to get you to Hope, and we’re going to keep you there.”
He knew his dad hadn’t meant it that way, but Dick’s phrasing made Kelly realize if things became bad enough, he’d have to leave Hope. The idea made him feel cold and small.
It wasn’t Hope itself, of course, that he’d miss.
Dick reached over and patted Kelly’s leg. “No more worrying about it, all right? All there is to do right now is watch our pennies. Christmas will be a bit light on gifts this year, and your mother’s been doing some amazing jujitsu with rice and beans for most of our meals, but other than that, nothing has changed.”
“I don’t need anything for Christmas. Take my stuff back and save the money.”
Dick glanced at Kelly over the top of his glasses. “I’ll let you try and sell that one to your mother yourself.” He turned back to the road. “New conversation. Tell me how your finals and such went, and school. You’ve been quiet this last month—must have kept you busy, we figured.”
Oh, Kelly had been busy. His cheeks stained as he recalled how. “My finals were okay, nothing that bad.” He bit his lip, then added, “I think you’ve figured it out, given the way you interviewed him at Opie’s, but Walter and I are dating.”
Beaming, Dick reached over and lightly cuffed Kelly’s shoulder. “There you go, didn’t I say you had to be patient? I know how much you liked him, and he seems as if he’s a good young man. Congratulations, son.”
“Thanks.” Kelly’s face was still flushed, though now it was with pride and pleasure at having pleased his father. “We were hoping to get together over break. We hadn’t decided if we were going to his place or mine or both—he’s insisting on giving me a ride back to school.”
“We’d love to have him at the house. We’ll talk to your mother about when would be best.”
“If it’s okay, longer would be better.” Kelly hesitated before divulging his next thoughts. “His family life is rough. Parents are divorced, and his mom has a really hard time. He worries about her, but I don’t think it’s good for him to be there too long, because there’s not much he can do to help, and it only tears him up. I’d been kind of thinking if he didn’t stay with us from New Year’s on, I’d go back with him from whenever we left until school went back on. I think he needs the distraction.”
“I’m sure we can work something out, though I’m sorry to hear about his family.”
“It’s awful. He’s started telling me about what goes on there, and it makes me so sad.” He shook his head, remembering some of it. “I never realized how lucky I was, having you and Mom as parents.”
Dick ruffled Kelly’s head, and when he spoke, his voice was gruff. “We’re lucky to have such amazing kids, is what.”
Kelly leaned into the touch, wishing they weren’t in the car so he could hug him properly. He vowed to do so later. “We’re going to be okay, Dad. No matter what happens with Mom, we’re going to make this work, and we’re going to be okay, school and everything.”
Dick grinned into the setting sun ahead of them. “Now you’re talking like a Davidson.”
WALTER TUCKED HIS hands in his pockets and wound his scarf tighter against his face in deference to the cold as he walked back across campus, humming softly to himself. He planned to leave in the morning after his last test, and for the first time in a long time he was almost eager to go. Maybe, if he laid the right seeds, he could finesse Tibby and his mom so their family would be functional enough to have Kelly over for an extended stay. His sister had a horse show that weekend, he knew—maybe he’d go, because she’d like that. Maybe for Christmas he’d take his mom on a date, something fun and exotic that she couldn’t make into a sob story about how nobody loved her.
Maybe he could fucking pick up the moon and put it in a gift box. Because he felt so damn good, he thought maybe he could manage it.
Spying Williams’s light on, Walter ducked into Ritche to wish his advisor a merry Christmas and give him one last pep talk before the tenure news on Friday. He heard voices as he approached, and when he came around the corner, he saw Dr. Holtz, the English department head, sitting in Walter’s usual seat. It was odd, because Holtz wasn’t usually on Williams’s staff hang-out list. When Holtz saw Walter, he stopped talking.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Walter said, leaning into Williams’s office. “Just wanted to wish you—” He got a good look at Williams’s haggard face and cut himself off. “What happened?”
The two professors exchanged heavy glances, and Walter tried not to freak out. Eventually Williams gave Holtz a nod. “Give us a minute?”
Holtz stood. He didn’t leave, though, until he’d put a heavy hand on Williams’s shoulder. “I’ll make some of those calls while I’m out.”
Walter didn’t even bother hiding his anxiety, and he damn well didn’t sit down when Williams offered him the chair with a haggard gesture.
“What the fuck is going on?” When Williams only continued to look heavy and bleak, as if somebody’d lined up his kids and shot them one by one, Walter began to spin out. “What? It’s not tenure, I know that, because you said it’s Friday, and I know those assholes don’t work any faster than they have to.”
“It’s not tenure. I won’t be getting tenure, and I won’t be denied it either.” Williams kept staring down at his desk, haunted and defeated. “They’ve cut my position. After the end of the next term, the communications department will merge with Language and Culture, and they’re cutting the faculty there down by two. One of them is me.”
Walter stared, dumbfounded, then shook his head. “They can’t. That’s crazy. That doesn’t even make any fucking sense. What about communication majors? What, are they cutting my major out too?”
“No. It doesn’t affect the majors, only the faculty.” Williams looked up at Walter with a desperation he knew he’d never forget, not for the rest of his life. “I’ve lost my job, Walter. There’s no appeal. It’s simply gone. No matter how you slice it, I only have one semester left here at Hope.”
No, Walter wanted to shout, to cry, to scream, to pound the walls until they fell down. He didn’t do any of it, though, only collapsed into the chair Holtz had vacated, legless, as the rock he hadn’t even known he’d been clinging to rushed out of his grasp and into open sea.