by Drew Sera
“I will.”
Anthony held the folder in his hands but made no attempt at opening it. George was quiet for a few moments and then looked over at me.
“Mr. Eriksson, would you mind if I spoke to Anthony a few minutes alone?”
“Of course.” I put my hand on Anthony’s shoulder and told him I’d be over on the other bench about forty yards away.
I sat on the other bench and watched George reach into his jacket and pull out a regular sized envelope and hand it to Anthony. Soon, George stood, shook Anthony’s hand and began up the path toward the parking lot. On his way, he waved at me. I gave Anthony a few moments before going over to him. In his hands, he held the folder that I believed contained all business related things and then a white envelope that I had a feeling included something personal.
On the way back to the hotel, Anthony opened the folder and would read something and then tell me about it. I was relieved that Richard had already made arrangements so Anthony wouldn’t have to worry about figuring it out. He wanted to be cremated and for Anthony to spread his ashes in the bay near the bench that we just visited.
Back at the hotel, Anthony said he wanted to review the rest of the paperwork. I knew that white envelope was burning a hole in his pocket too.
“Ok, I’m going to work out in the gym, take a shower and call Cathy. Then I’m going to come check on you, ok?”
Anthony nodded and headed toward his room, and I went to mine.
Chapter Sixteen
September 1996
I went to the table, opened the folder and began reading over the asset paperwork’s cover sheet with instructions.
Do with these funds as you see fit.
I reviewed each account statement and totaled up over three million dollars in combined assets. I didn’t need the money, that’s for sure. I will think about what would be appropriate. I’ll find somewhere to donate it.
Staring at me was the white envelope that had my name on it in my dad’s handwriting. I took a deep breath, opened it and pulled out his handwritten note.
My Dear Son, Anthony,
I shoved the letter away and stood up. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t want to read it. I paced around the room for a while, took a shower, organized my clothes and bathroom toiletries. I did everything I could to avoid that letter. I finally took a deep breath, sat back down, pulled the letter closer and started again.
My Dear Son, Anthony,
Since you’re reading this, you know that my time was up. My life is filled with many regrets, and one of those is not having taken the time to get to know you. While I spent my life as a doctor, helping and taking care of others, I failed miserably at taking care of you.
I can still hear your ragged voice as you choked on tears when you called me from school all those years ago. When I saw you in the emergency room, I couldn’t believe what they had done to you. If I had been there for you, as I should have been, you wouldn’t have suffered. Not a day has gone by since that night in the hospital where I haven’t felt immense guilt.
I am very sorry for having put you through that lawsuit, son. But they needed to pay for their actions, and what their lack of actions did to you. I know the money means nothing to you, but it gave me comfort knowing that they paid in some way for the suffering they put you through. It also meant you’d be able to afford to do whatever you wanted the rest of your life.
We never talked like we should have, and I accept responsibility for that. I wish I would have known things about you that a father should know about their child. If you would, please do me this favor. Write down some of your favorite things, burn the paper and put those ashes with mine.
Be happy in life, Anthony. Don’t take a moment for granted and live your life to the fullest, son. I am so sorry for everything that I didn’t do for you. I love you, Anthony.
Love,
Dad
Fuck. I stood up and walked around the room. I tried hard not to think about what was in the letter, but couldn’t keep my mind from it. Don’t fucking cry! I went back to the table and grabbed a piece of paper from the hotel notepad.
My favorite color is blue. My favorite sport is football, and I love the 49ers. I was an honor student in high school and pitched for the high school baseball team. Pizza is my favorite food. I…wish you would have left me for dead. Then I wouldn’t hurt as much as I do now. If you hadn’t come to get me, then I wouldn’t have known what it was like to be hugged or loved by a parent. I wouldn’t have known what I missed for seventeen years! You showed me what I missed out on, and now you’re gone! Fuck this emotional pain shit! I’ll take the physical pain any day. This, what I’m feeling right now, is far worse than any beating.
“Fuck!”
I crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room. My head was pounding now. I took some ibuprofen and lay face down on the bed and closed my eyes for a while. When I had a better grip on myself, I picked up the piece of paper and re-wrote everything, but ended it on my favorite food. I tore the crumpled paper into tiny pieces and threw it in the trash near the elevator.
On my way to the balcony with his letter and my note, I grabbed a book of matches. Once outside, I set them ablaze, merging the words we never spoke to each other into a pile of smoke and ash. After they cooled, I put them into the envelope.
As promised, Blake came to visit me soon after that. I think he knew I wasn’t doing too hot.
“Did you read your letter?”
I nodded, but wouldn’t dare open my mouth. Blake put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently, like my dad used to. I was trying to focus on the buttons of his shirt, but they were so blurry. I didn’t want Blake to see me cry. I was stronger than this. I tried thinking of everything to keep me from crying, but his hands…they were just like my dad’s. They were comforting and made me feel safe, but I never told my dad.
“Anthony, look at me,” he said.
He did it on purpose. I know he did. He knew if I moved my eyes, the tears would fall over my eyelids. It was becoming harder and harder to hold in. That fucking lump was in my throat, and I was shaking. Blake squeezed my shoulders again and said something my dad would often say to me after I started living with him, and it nearly did me in.
“Relax and let it out.”
I shook my head slowly so the tears wouldn’t fall.
“Look at me,” he said again, and when it became obvious that I couldn’t hold it in anymore, he slowly pulled me into a hug. “Anthony, I’m so sorry. I know how much this hurts.”
I didn’t look at him, but let him hug me. He felt like my dad did and if I didn’t look at him, then I could pretend that it was him one last time.
“Come on, Anthony. Let’s get some food in you. Today was a lot.”
I nodded, washed my face and changed shirts. We went downstairs to the hotel restaurant and bar and watched some football highlights that were playing on the TVs while we ate. Niners lost.
“Thank you, Blake, for coming up here with me.”
“I wouldn’t have had it any other way. You’re not alone, Anthony.”
Chapter Seventeen
September 1996
I sat on the same bench we sat on yesterday and watched Anthony as he stood out on the pier and scattered the ashes of his father into the bay below him. He remained standing for a few moments before I saw his hand go up to his eyes. I went to him, but he must have sensed that I was on my way, because his walls were back up by the time I got to him.
“Thank you for coming with me, Blake. I don’t think I would have gotten through all of this on my own,” Anthony said as we took our seats on the plane.
“You would have, Anthony. But I’m glad you didn’t have to do it on your own.”
I knew that Anthony wasn’t close to his father, but I think he was still going to grieve the loss. Cathy and I would keep a close eye on him because I feared that Anthony would withdraw on his own otherwise.
Chapter Eighteen
September
1996
I hadn’t been to the club in nearly a week since I returned from California. Blake has been trying to keep an eye on me, and I keep shutting him out. I think I need some time away. I’m not able to uphold my responsibilities to Blake or Irons right now.
I walked into Irons and gazed around the main floor, looking for Blake. It was still very early and hoped to catch him before the club opened.
“Graves.”
I turned to find Paul strolling toward me. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
“Sorry to hear about your dad. You must be devastated.”
I nodded and continued to look around for Blake.
“You doing, okay? I haven’t seen you around this past week, though I can understand.”
Why was he fucking squeezing my shoulder so goddamn hard?
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said and shrugged out from under his hand.
“You seem tense, Graves. Have you thought about talking to a sadist about helping you release all this stress and tension?”
“What? No, I just came to talk to Blake.”
“I could open up a whole new world for you Graves. Make you question everything about yourself.”
What the fuck?
“Have you seen Blake?”
“He’s probably busy, Graves. Contrary to what you think, the world does not revolve around you.”
“I know that.”
“Are you sure? Maybe without your father funding your every wet dream whim and stroking your ego, you’ll find out how the real world works. I have a feeling you’ve lived a coddled life.”
“You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Paul.”
“I might know more than you are willing to admit about yourself.”
“Don’t fuck with me.”
“Why not, Graves. You really might enjoy it, son.”
“Paul, enough.”
I looked over at Blake as he was approaching with Luke. Paul patted the back of my head as he moved on. I was so angry, and I knew I was overly emotional right now.
“Take it easy, Anthony. Just relax,” Blake encouraged, and I nodded.
“I just came to talk to you. I’m sorry. I…”
“Come on. Let’s go to my office and talk.”
Chapter Nineteen
September 1996
I took a seat on the couch in my office instead of sitting behind my desk. I wanted Anthony not to feel like he was reporting in, but that he and I were talking as friends. While Anthony has not been at the club this week, I've stayed in contact with him.
He’s been a quiet guy ever since I have known him and he’s not the easiest man to read, but I've been trying my best. We had lunch together once this week, and he seems to be doing okay, but still, I worry about him. I'm all he has, and I won't let this kid down.
Wearing a scowl and a crinkled forehead, Anthony sat in front of me. I thought it was a positive step for him since he came to me to talk. I also feared how stressed he must be for him to come to me.
“I think I need to step away from Irons for a while.”
My heart began pounding. I knew that if Anthony retreated, he might never come back.
“How long are you thinking?” I asked.
“Maybe just a few weeks. I can't uphold my commitment to you and Irons right now. I'd rather step away for a little bit, get focused and then return.”
Anthony ran his hand through his hair and grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt around his stomach. He was struggling with this, and I could tell that he didn't really want to step away, but he felt the stress and pressure of the mentoring program and all that it involved. I think he probably thought about this decision for a few days and most likely lost sleep over it.
“Anthony, you don't want to walk away from Irons, do you?”
“No, but I can't focus much right now. And you don't need me being in the dungeon if I can't concentrate.”
I hated to see him withdraw from Irons, even if it was just for a short term. Anthony didn’t have any friends outside of the club, and I felt that he could benefit from being around people he identified most with.
“Let's do this, instead of an entire evening of being a monitor, how about just thirty minutes? And just watching two stalls.”
Anthony seemed surprised that I was willing to work with him. I was going to do whatever I could to help him because I didn't want him retreating into his shell.
“Ok, I can do that.”
“Good, then that’s what we’ll do. Don't worry about this, Anthony, it'll be okay.”
He nodded, and I told him that I would take care of the scheduling. When I walked out of the office with him, Paul was hanging out in the hallway. Thankfully, I don't think Anthony noticed, but this was going to be something I would address.
“Irons opens soon, Anthony. Want to go get a bite to eat?”
I took him to a nearby restaurant and made sure he was eating something. I have a feeling he wasn't doing much of that on his own right now. He didn't look depressed to me, but I know that depression can mask itself in many forms. His face was hard though, and I couldn't quite put my finger on what that meant with him.
We got back to the club just as the doors were opening and I found Mistress Melissa down in the dungeon. I let her know that Anthony would be monitoring two cells just for thirty minutes tonight. While Anthony was checking the stalls for the first aid kits to ensure they are stocked, I told Melissa to keep an eye on him too.
“Let me know if he looks out of it,” I said.
Melissa told me what she overheard Paul say to Anthony earlier in the main room. This shit is going to end. On my way up to the main floor, Paul was heading down the stairs. Perfect timing. I pointed at him and said that I needed a word with him. We remained silent until we got to my office.
“What did you say to Anthony this afternoon?” I abruptly asked.
“What did the golden boy say that I said?”
“Paul, grow up. You're nearly twice his age. Does it make you feel better to tell him that he was coddled? His dad just died, can you have a little compassion? I hate to break it to you, but you don't know anything about his life. And what you think you have all figured out, is wrong.”
“If you had let me mentor him, perhaps I would know about his life by now. I might have him sorted out, but instead, you're continuing to coddle the rich kid.” Paul stepped closer to me. “I could have straightened him out, had you given me a chance.”
“You have no idea what a bullet I dodged by not assigning him to you. You would have steered him to fit your needs. I'm removing you from the mentoring program altogether.”
This had struck a chord with Paul.
“Fuck, Blake. He must really suck your dick better than your wife and be the best fuck you've had.”
“Don't test me, Paul. One more shitty comment is all that it will take for me to suspend you from Irons.”
“You would do that? You’d risk our friendship over that golden boy?”
“Paul, I will do whatever I see necessary for the integrity and safety of this club.”
Chapter Twenty
December 1996
Anthony had just finished an incredible scene down in the dungeon with the St. Andrews Cross, wax and a beautiful bottom. He has been practicing with candle wax for a number of months now and a wax loving bottom was eager to try a scene with him and the wax. It went well, and I was so proud of him. A lot of the Masters and Mistresses, including some regular members, were standing around waiting to chat with Anthony. Most of the members kept their comments brief so Anthony could catch his breath. He provided after care and then immediately afterward, a lot of people wanted to say something to him.
We were at the bar when a few of our newer members came over to talk to him. They were older than Anthony and had just been members since the beginning of the month. I really liked both of the new members. They hadn’t gone down the mentorship path that Anthony had, but they were both experienced.
“That was an amazing scene. May I ask where you get your candles for your wax scenes from?” One of them asked.
“Blake has a catalog around here that has a bunch of equipment in it. I order them from there. Do you play with wax?”
“A little bit, though I will admit, the candles you were using looked great. They made that girl moan instead of scream.”
The guys shared a few laughs and then they introduced themselves to one another.
“Sorry, man. Let me introduce myself; I’m Colin.”
“I’m Anthony, nice to meet you.”
Anthony shook Colin’s hand then the other gentleman’s offered hand.
“I’m Matt. I caught your rope scene last weekend. How long have you been rigging?”
“Since July. Lots to learn still,” Anthony said.
Just in the short time that Matt and Colin have been members, they were easily two of my favorites, along with Anthony. And for once, it was nice to see Anthony talking and laughing with a few guys that were probably the closest to his age.
I excused myself from the three guys and began making my rounds when Paul stopped me.
“How many more twenty somethings running around with their parent’s money are you going to let in this place, Blake? As if Graves wasn’t enough, we need two more rich boys?”
“Paul, those gentlemen have gone through all of the safety courses and are extremely friendly, experienced, put together Doms. Matt’s a doctor, and Colin is the CEO of Everett Gaming.”
