The Key
by Lugh
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.”
İLugh 2007
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