Stewart always knew that extricating himself from the family business was going to be difficult. He just didn’t realize exactly how difficult it was going to be. He had expected that it was going to take a long time. He just didn’t realize it was going to take as long as selling his house. He knew the estate belonged mostly to him—his parents and their parents before him were always very clear about who the heir was.
Always the firstborn. Everyone else got the rest of the inheritance. Nobody was left destitute. Stewart just had the luck of being the only male and the firstborn in a very traditional family, which didn’t make his life any easier. Extricating himself from his family was going to be a bitch, but he had already started to try.
He knew he had put his sister in an impossible position when he had gone to see her, but ultimately, she didn’t have a choice. She was his banker and she worked for him. She had to do what he wanted her to do, despite how upset she was by it.
Stewart didn’t feel too bad about it. If she wasn’t okay with what had happened, she didn’t have to act the way she did. As far as Stewart was concerned, she was simply living with the consequences of her actions. Unfortunately, the consequences of her actions also included having to deal with his mother, who didn’t appreciate what she called ‘drama’. Stewart had reminded her that there would be no drama if Beatrice had simply been polite to Henry. As far as Stewart was concerned, his sister had basically ruined his life. He knew, deep in his bones, that Henry was the person for him. He knew that he was the one he was supposed to be with. Beatrice had made it so that Henry couldn’t think that, so Stewart couldn’t be with the only person he wanted.
Stewart had made it clear that he was extremely upset with her. She had tried to apologize again, but Stewart didn’t need any more apologies. He knew that they were hollow. Beatrice just wanted him to fulfill his duties as a Miller and she couldn’t give a crap about what he wanted to do. She couldn’t give a crap about him.
He was thinking about all this as his eyes glazed over the menu of the fancy restaurant his mother had chosen, the one on the corner of Main and Fifth. He knew it was going to be a serious conversation, because his mother loved some of the wine they served at this restaurant and she often took her time when it came to drinking it.
He knew she was going to be late. She was always late, enough to be fashionably late, but never enough to be irritating. He looked up at the door when someone walked inside. He smiled at his mother as she strolled in, the picture of grace. She was wearing a white skirt suit which clung to her body, which looked more fragile than ever now.
Her hair wasn’t gray, it was white. He didn’t know when she had started dyeing it that color, but he couldn’t have been that old, because all his memories from his childhood had his mother with platinum blonde and, later on, white hair. He got up as he smiled at her and walked over to greet her. He hugged her and she hugged him back. He could feel her bones when she did, which he didn’t like too much, but he wasn’t going to turn this into an investigation on her health, because he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate it. Plus, this was about him being put on trial, not the other way around.
He walked with her to the table after she greeted him, kissing him on both cheeks. Then he pulled out a chair for her and waited until she sat down. He was trying to avoid having this conversation with her, if he was being honest with himself. Now that she was there, his heart was beating rapidly in his chest and he felt a little sick to his stomach.
He sat down across from her, put the cloth napkin on his lap and flashed her his best attempt at a smile. She didn’t smile back at him, just looked him up and down. “So,” she said, “all your sisters have reached out to me.”
Great. They weren’t even going to start with the weather. They were just going to go for this already.
He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure they have. I think they’re angry.”
“Beatrice is angry,” his mother replied. “Alison and Bonnie are more concerned than anything else.”
Stewart shrugged. “They didn’t act concerned when they came over for dinner the other day.”
His mother didn’t say anything to that. She just continued looking at him. The waiter arrived, took their orders—Stewart had plenty of time to look over the menu and his mother always had grilled chicken over a bed of lettuce—and then excused himself. Stewart had hoped the waiter would be more of a distraction, but these fancy restaurant waiters were all the same. They always blended into the background, making sure that they never disturbed the diners’ experience. After going to a lot of less fancy restaurants with Henry, Stewart realized that he missed some of the more personable waiters and they would definitely make this situation easier to navigate. At least they provided breathers when the conversation got tense.
There was no room for breathing here.
“Mom,” Stewart said.
She looked up at him raising her eyebrows. “Yes, darling?”
“I didn’t want to have this conversation,” he said. “I really didn’t want it to have to come to this.”
She continued watching him, saying nothing. Stewart knew very little that was quite as scary as his mother’s piercing blue eyes staring at him, waiting for him to explain himself. “Come to what?” she prompted.
“This,” he replied. “I don’t know if you know this, but I changed my phone number. I can’t be part of all this. I can’t be part of the family if this is the way they’re going to treat the person I love.”
She kept watching him.
“I do love him, Mom,” he said. “I love him so much. When I think about my future, all I can see is him. Now that’s over, and my family, my name, that’s the reason it’s over. I’m not getting any younger and I feel like I need to give myself a chance at happiness. Henry made me feel like I deserved a chance at happiness.”
She nodded. “And your sisters made you feel like that wasn’t the case.”
“I understand where they’re coming from,” Stewart said. “I do. I understand that they want me to do what they had to do, but that’s not what I want for my life.”
The waiter had come with the wine and was putting it on the table. Stewart had stopped talking, opting instead for taking a sip of his ice-cold water. The waiter left again, his steps practically silent.
“I don’t want this,” Stewart said. “I appreciate everything you’ve given me, everything my grandparents have given me, but I don’t want this. I want to be able to be happy, Mom. They took Henry away from me and I don’t think I’m ever going to meet anyone like him again. I don’t think it’s going to happen for me. I’m getting old, like I said, and I just want to be able to give myself a chance.”
“So, you’re quitting the family.”
“Yes,” Stewart quietly replied.
His mother giggled. Stewart didn’t know what was funny, but he hoped that she would clarify it soon. He didn’t know what she could possibly find amusing about this situation.
“Let me tell you a story,” she said.
He watched her.
“You know, your father and I were married for almost twenty-five years before he passed away. Your father was a good man. He was a good husband, and a good father. He was a good person,” she said quietly.
Stewart reached out to grab her hand. “I know that you miss him,” he said. “We all miss him.”
She smiled. “I know,” she replied, “but that’s not what this is about. You see, when I first brought him home, your grandparents didn’t like him at all.”
Stewart cocked his head. He had never heard this story. As far as Stewart was concerned—and what he had heard all his life—his father was beloved by everyone. That was Stewart’s experience. It had always been his experience. He didn’t see how anyone could have a different one.
“He was working class,” she said. “Well, no, not working class, but working class for us. He was a Miller, not a Wilson. We knew his family, but only tangentially. My parents had already made plans for me to marry Murray Wilkison-Ekins. His family owned this big retail empire. They were the first people to own malls.”
“Malls? You mean the concept of malls?”
She nodded. “Exactly,” she said. “His family were the first people to put together how well it would work. They had so much money. My parents were very excited about Murray and I getting married someday. Then I met Arthur at a party and everything changed.”
Stewart smiled.
“Arthur Henry Miller,” she said, her voice dreamy. “I remember when my mother first said his full name, as if she was going to throw up. She could have stopped me from seeing him. I’m a woman, and it was a long time ago. But she didn’t. She protested, she got angry, she was upset about the money… but she never made me stop seeing your father. Do you know why?”
“No,” Stewart said. “No idea.”
“Because she knew that the most important thing was that I was happy,” she said. “She knew that the most important thing was that the person I married was good and kind to me. Your father was kind.”
“He was,” Stewart said.
“They’ll get used to it,” his mother said, waving him off. “Your sisters are jealous of you. They’ve always been jealous of you. You were the kind of person who always knew what he wanted to do and they didn’t. They needed more guidance than you.”
“So you think that’s what it was about?”
“I think that’s part of what it was about,” she said. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “You don’t need to leave the family to be with the person you want to be with. You don’t need to stop being one of us.”
He shook his head. “I do,” he said. “If I don’t want my life to be marred by these expectations—”
“You’re an adult,” she said. “You know exactly what you need to do. You don’t have to do any of the things that are expected of you. You just need to do what you want to do. You have enough money to leave the family if you want to, but I would recommend that you don’t. You say that you love this guy, right?”
Stewart nodded. “I do,” he said. “I love him, Mom. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”
She looked him up and down. “Darling,” she said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here? Why are you talking to me in this restaurant when you could be talking to your boyfriend about this?”
His eyes widened. He got up, his heart racing, and then kissed his mom’s cheek. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you so much.”
***
He took a taxi to Henry’s apartment complex. He gave the driver far too much money, told him to keep it all and practically ran into the building. He took his phone out of his pocket and tried to call him, but he realized that he didn’t have his phone number.
He had changed his phone after Beatrice wouldn’t stop blowing it up once he had left the bank. He didn’t want to deal with her, didn’t want to deal with any of his family. He hadn’t expected that his mother would be on his side. She always surprised him and he was pleased by that, but right then, he didn’t care about what his mother had to say.
All that mattered was Henry. He should have been all that mattered from the very beginning, but Stewart had let everything else get in the way. His engagement to Elle, what his family expected of him, his own money. Even the way his family had treated Henry. All of those things made him sick to his stomach when he thought about it.
He owed Henry an apology. He owed Henry more than just an apology. He didn’t have to take Stewart back, but he hoped that he would, because Stewart didn’t know what life looked like without Henry in his future.
He didn’t want to know what life looked like without Henry in his future.
He needed to get there as soon as possible. It didn’t matter that he was going to be covered in sweat. It didn’t matter that he was going to look disgusting. He needed to talk to Henry and he needed to do it as soon as humanly possible. He banged on Henry’s door as loud as he could. He didn’t see his car anywhere. He kept banging on the door, practically throwing his weight against it.
He knew he was knocking too loud. He knew he was making everyone around him hear it, but he didn’t care about that much by then. He just wanted Henry to answer the door. He wanted Henry to come out immediately. He needed Henry to come out immediately. He needed to see him in person, needed to speak to him, tell him how he felt about him.
He needed to do that right now. He needed to see him face to face, because he needed to apologize to him face to face. He couldn’t wait any longer.
He kept knocking, but nobody answered the door. Finally, after a few seconds of hopeless, desperate knocking, someone a couple of doors down came out. It was a girl, younger than Henry, with purple and blue hair.
“Hey, buddy,” she said. “You might want to stop that. He’s not there.”
Stewart blanched. He felt a little sick. He didn’t want this to be true, he didn’t want the last time that he had seen Henry to be the last time he was ever going to see Henry.
“He left about ten minutes ago,” she said as she approached him. “He had a bunch of his camping gear with him and he said he might not be back for a while. Actually, he asked me to water his plants while he was gone.”
Stewart looked her up and down. He had never heard Henry mention her, but then, there were so many things about Henry that Stewart didn’t know yet... so many things about Henry that he had yet to discover. He didn’t know any of his friends, he realized, which was a huge problem.
He needed to get to know his friends. He needed to know everyone who he liked, everyone who made him happy. He needed to know what his life was like day-to-day. Right now, he didn’t know any of those things.
Stewart looked her up and down. “Stewart,” he said, sticking his hand out. It seemed important that he introduce himself to her, that he make his presence known, in case Henry came back and missed him.
“Hi,” she said. “Angie. I live three doors down.”
“Angie,” he said. “Did Henry tell you where he was going?”
She nodded. “He told me he was going camping,” she said. “He didn’t say exactly where, but I have some idea.”
Stewart sighed. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to cry in front of this woman, but he felt like the tears were inevitable. He sniffled, trying to hide how emotional he was from this woman.
“Are you okay, buddy?”
“I’m—yes,” he said.
“You were banging on that door pretty hard there,” she said. “Are you sure that you don’t want to come into my house? I can give you a cup of tea. Maybe I can try to get in touch with Henry.”
Stewart looked at her. Maybe Henry just didn’t want to deal with him anymore, maybe he had moved on.
“Was he with anyone when he left?”
She snorted. “No,” she said. “He was—he said he was trying to get over a break-up and that was why he was leaving so quickly. He never mentioned you by name, but I’m not an idiot.”
“How did he seem?”
“Honestly? Devastated,” she replied, “but he said he was going to be okay. Are you sure you don’t want to come inside and have some tea?”
He looked her up and down. He didn’t have anything to lose at this point. Maybe this would be the way to find out exactly what had happened with Henry, exactly what was keeping them apart. He shrugged, defeated. He had rushed here so quickly and he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do. This girl may be able to help. She was his best clue, he supposed his only clue.
“I can help you find out where he is,” she said, “if that would help. You know, I love a love story.”