Love Happens Anyway

by RJ Scott

  Jim. John. Julian. Assholes. Their wives? Way too stretched thin in their glittery floor-length dresses to be able to breathe, let alone talk. I turned to discuss that with Derek but he’d vanished and it took me a while to spot him talking to a young woman with white-blonde hair. Moira. Thank God.

  Now Moira, she was fun, and she wanted to stand with Derek and enjoy the party, and I could imagine being friends with her. She didn’t ask me pointed questions about being a firefighter, such as whether I could carry her, or who I’d saved, and what I’d seen. She asked questions about Derek, and when he went to get us drinks she leaned into me.

  “He’s not happy you know,” she said. “At work. I mean, clearly he’s happy with you, but if he hasn’t told you then I wanted to be able to explain that he’s super miserable at the moment.”

  “Why?” I asked, hoping to hell she explained before he came back.

  All she did was incline her head a little toward where Jim, John and Julian were standing.

  “He’s stuck.”

  “In a job he hates?”

  “No.” She looked aghast at the thought. “He loves his job, he’s just… He had so many plans for when he was in the main office, but now he’s isolated up on the top floor he’s lost his spark.”

  That was what I’d thought. Not about the spark, who knew whether he’d had a spark at work. But he’d described how happy he used to be and now he wasn’t.

  Isolation sounded a reasonable explanation as to why this spark had vanished. I didn’t have a chance to answer; Derek was back with a bottle of water for me. He’d offered to get me a beer, but didn’t ask questions when I just said I wanted water. I was grateful but I was sorry for him being isolated and losing his spark, and I wanted to kiss him again. Badly. He looked edible in his dark suit and the sapphire tie, the shirt a silvery white. Stunning. And I wanted him, under me, over me, in me, anything, right now.

  So the spontaneous hug happened right there and then in the best sort of impulsive way, and I managed it all without spilling a drink. When I let him go he was shocked and his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.

  Christmas madness, the music, the lights, the laughter; it made me insane with the need to kiss him again. He tasted so good, and the way he just melted into me, and the sounds he made low in his throat; I still had one more official kiss to do tonight and I was going to make it a good one.

  With drinks in hand we moved our way to the back of the room and reached the food, both of us piling tiny bites onto our plates and then retreating to the tree in the corner. It was huge, swathed in silk and voile and white lights and stunning.

  Not quite as stunning as Derek’s eyes as he stared up at the tree, but near enough.

  “I remember we had a tree like this once,” he said, after inhaling the plate of appetizers. I realized too late I’d been too busy gazing at him, staring at the tree, to have eaten much. “Only it was pale blue and silver and had to be cut down a little one side to fit in the hallway of the Hamptons house.”

  The tree was easily ten feet tall, I doubt we would have even been able to get one this size through the bar and up to the loft as kids. Anyway, Sara was allergic to pine sap, and so we’d had a plastic tree. When it was covered with tinsel and lights and ornaments it was just as beautiful as this one. It was a family tree, not a design statement.

  “It’s remarkable,” I said, but I wasn’t looking at the tree at all.

  He turned to talk to me, and I recognized the moment he saw I was staring at him and he dipped his eyes. I think I was getting though the panic in him to appear normal. Hell, I hope I was.

  It seemed as if he was going to say something and then his expression changed and I felt a tap on the shoulder. I turned to be pulled into a hug by Derek’s mom, and then shook hands with his dad. I knew they’d be here, arriving late because they’d been hitting the tourist trail hard this week.

  They embraced Derek in a similar way, saying things to him that I didn’t catch, and he actually talked back to them, and wonders of wonders his expression wasn’t closed. He was happy to see them.

  I wasn’t stupid enough to think I had had any hand in that, but I like to think I was a buffer of sorts and what I’d said to him in the park had somehow stuck. Maybe he hadn't realized he was putting all kinds of barriers up or that he’d argued so defensively.

  “Mom, Dad can I talk to you?” I heard him say. I grasped his hand as he passed by and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  “Okay?” I asked as I kissed him.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  The three of them left the party, through the door with the mistletoe but turned left into the building rather than right to the sidewalk outside.

  I sighed, because I could see Jim, John and Julian headed my way. Before I could move they had me trapped between the tree and the rest of the room.

  “So, tell me, Marcus. Do you really feel that such public displays of affection are good for a company as prestigious as Henderson McCormack?”

  Derek

  I hate admitting that someone else is right. I’d always been the kid who made his own way, despite my family’s money, despite having my life planned out for me. I’d rebelled at sixteen, and the whole rebellion lasted an entire week. Then I went quiet, because Mom had this way of looking at me as if she had all the love in the world for me, but at the same time she was disappointed. Moms all over the world are like that, but for me, the way I react? All I do is back away and feel guilty.

  Dad had all these wonderful ideas for Henderson McCormack, the new building, a different management structure, and I was so determined to do my own thing that I never gave a thought to arguing my point at every given chance.

  “Is everything okay?” Mom asked as we came to a stop in the small reception waiting room. I needed somewhere private with a door, and silence so I could get my thoughts out in a cohesive manner.

  I gestured them both in and shut the door. “I’ve been thinking about some of your ideas, Dad.”

  I gestured to a seat and he sat, tugging Mom to sit next to him and waited. “Which ideas?”

  I steeled myself for the can of worms I was opening.

  “I’d like to work up the costs of moving to a new building. I’ve done some preliminary research and this building is prime real estate, the Fendon-Wilde chain is interested in the entire lot to convert it to a hotel.”

  “Derek, that’s wonderful news. I could never get in to see them, well done.”

  I wasn’t going to say that Fendon-Wilde had approached me. Let Dad think that it had been me who’d managed that hook-up myself.

  Why am I doing that? Am I so desperate for Dad to think good of me? What the fuck am I doing?

  “Actually they approached me.”

  Dad didn’t look any less impressed, just waited for more of the explanation.

  “I don’t want to move out of Manhattan, but I’d like to sit with you and look at possible ideas for where we could move next, it could mean some capital expenditure but—“

  “You had me at moving to a new building.” He smiled widely. “I always explained it was the best way, I’m glad you listened to me.”

  I winced at that, feeling as if the decision had been taken from me again, and I thought back to my conversation with Luke. Maybe I did have an insane need to control my life, maybe I just had a unique personality quirk, but I felt I was being patted on the head like a child. I know Dad didn’t even mean to do that, but it was what Dad had come to expect from his Dad, and Grandpa was always on Dad’s case to do things the old way. And as for Mom? She never spoke about work, but God, my personal life was open season.

  “Let’s get a drink,” Dad suggested.

  At the same time as Mom asked, “I can’t wait to hear your end-of-year speech.”

  He stood and held a hand out to Mom; they were going to leave, and this was the last chance I would have of talking about how I felt without making it into a drama.

  “Mom, Dad, wait.
”

  They were still smiling when they turned back to me, their fingers laced together. What if the things I said made these smiles vanish? The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint my parents, but what I wanted to say, was it selfish?

  Not if it gets your head straight, Derek. Channel Luke.

  “Are you okay?” Mom asked, all concerned, and yeah, her smile did drop.

  “I want you to know that I made this decision about moving buildings because I researched, and thought, and covered all my bases. I weighed the kudos of an old building on this block, with the respectability of a company that is sixty years old, against the team I’m trying to create that is a cohesive whole.”

  Dad smiled at me, “That’s what I said—”

  “No, but Dad, I did that. I looked at cost benefits, zoning, personnel, those about to retire, parking, hell, I even checked local sandwich and coffee places near a potential new office. I made the decision, and it wasn’t because you told me, neither is it your judgment that I’m rubber stamping. You might agree with me, but this I did off my own back. I took your opinions on board but I made the final decision because of how I felt.”

  Dad looked uncertain. Was he going to be angry? Then he stepped closer and clapped my shoulder.

  “I’m a little confused, son, but of course this is all you.” He used his best placating tone.

  “I need to know for myself, hell, I need other people to see that I’m not just blindly following you,” I began.

  Realization flooded his face and he nodded. “You mean, as I did with your grandfather.”

  “No, God no, he was old school, you didn’t have a choice, but I’m different, you didn’t bring me up the same way.”

  I sat on the nearest chair and finally after a moment of staring at me, Dad did the same and Mom, quiet up until now, sat back with him.

  “Talk to us, sweetheart.”

  I loved them so much, I wanted to reach out and grab them both and hug so hard, but I also needed to talk to them, to the only people who might understand.

  “I had the most awesome childhood,” I began. Was that the right place to start? I channeled my inner Luke as I’d told myself to do, and decided that yes, it was. He implied I had to look at the whole picture instead of focusing on details.

  “But?” Mom prompted. Dad gripped her hand.

  “But it seemed to me that you and Mom always knew best. If I fell off my skateboard, then I shouldn’t have been skating down the gravel drive. If I failed an exam, it was always that you said I shouldn’t take that subject. That you were worried I’d fail. If the guy I was dating turned out to be an asshole, then you and Mom were always quick to tell me that he was a loser and that you’d had a feeling he wasn’t good for me.” I stopped, because I’d run out of breath, and my chest was tight. Maybe I shouldn’t have started this.

  “Derek—”

  “Sweetheart—”

  “And now, from day one I knew I wanted things differently at Henderson McCormack. I wanted a clean sweep but I always felt as if I was being judged and that any decision I made would be wrong, in which case you and Mom would say you knew it would happen, or if it ended up right, then you would pat me on the head and tell me you were glad I’d listened.”

  “Derek that isn’t what I meant to do.” Dad looked stricken.

  “I know, and I understand this is all me.” Guilt was weighing me down and pushed me deeper into the chair. “I know I could fuck this all up, but just this once, can the decisions I make be mine?”

  Mom and Dad exchanged glances and Mom nodded, as if the two of them were exchanging secrets.

  “You are our only child,” Mom began when she looked back at me, “we never could give you a brother or sister, and you were our miracle baby.”

  I wasn’t sure where that came from; I’d never questioned a lack of siblings. I knew I was a miracle child, their words not mine, but I hadn't even considered that in my equation of how I felt.

  “Being an only child doesn’t mean I’m being selfish,” I began, because maybe that was what they were saying; that I was a selfish only child who couldn’t think straight.

  Tension built, and there was the resentment that had been a permanent friend of mine recently. Or at least it had been until I’d met Luke and he’d rubbed away the resentment one understanding comment, or hand-holding kiss, at a time.

  “What your mom is trying to say is that… Look, you talk about the skateboard, I know that’s only one thing from the list, but when you came into the house, covered in blood after coming off it? I had to hold your mom while she cried the entire night, because she felt she should have stopped you and she didn’t want to lose you, but she blamed herself.”

  “We love you so much,” Mom added. “And when a boyfriend hurts you, I just… I want you to be happy and want you to see we agree with you.”

  “Son?” Dad held out a hand, which I took and held, offering my other to Mom, so we were in a loose circle.

  “I’m sorry. I know you want the best for me, but I remember what Grandpa did to Dad, the comments about how Dad was wrecking things, or telling me that Mom should be quieter in board meetings, I just want to break that cycle.” I bowed my head. “I’m not making any sense, am I? I’m a selfish son.”

  Dad huffed something that sounded like a laugh. “My dad, your grandpa? He was a bastard—”

  “Robert, really.”

  “Well, it’s true, and it’s only what you said to me every time we saw him.”

  “True.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Son, I hope I’m not like him, but I understand. I see what I’m doing, staking ownership in your decisions, your life, and you’re old enough to do these things for yourself. Right Belinda?”

  Mom wouldn’t look at me. “Is it wrong for me to say I really like Marcus and you shouldn’t let him go?”

  Well, that came out of left field.

  “You can say that, but it hasn’t been long and I don’t know if it will last,” I said. Not after the contract ends, not if he doesn’t actually like me enough to carry on.

  After all, he’s been lying as I’d paid him to do.

  Mom gave me that patented mother stare again, as if she knew something. Telling them who Marcus was had to be one truth too many tonight.

  “That is a shame, he’s good for you I think.”

  “You don’t know him that well,” I said.

  Mom released her hold of my hand and patted it instead. “I know that it’s because of him that you were able to talk so frankly to us tonight. It has to be, because this has been eating away at you for months and only now can you talk to us. A mother sees these things.”

  I stood and stretched. “Speech time.” Hell, I wasn’t touching my mom’s comment with a ten-foot pole.

  We hugged it out, and I felt a mix of son-guilt and elation that I had cleared the air a little. Had I been I wrong to lay it all out there?

  As soon as I stepped on the stage with two-hundred people looking up at me, I felt different. As if this was my role. As if I belonged. People wouldn’t just respect me because they were paid to; they wouldn’t get away with calling me sir anymore.

  I was different from my grandpa, and my dad.

  I was Derek Henderson, and this was my company.

  “Good evening everyone. Before I start I’d like to make a public announcement. Please stop calling me sir,” I began, causing a ripple of laughter around the room. “This is the only time I have all of you in one place, and honestly, call me Derek.”

  I looked to where I’d spotted Luke. He was next to the tree, ringed by the J’s, but he was smiling at me, and that was a nice feeling. He still wanted to smile at me tonight.

  “So, I know it’s tradition for us to stand here and talk about the coming year, about possibilities, and demands, and the type of company we will continue to be. I’m also thinking some of you might not remember this tomorrow.”

  Someone laughed raucously to the left of me, Anson from personn
el was doing a good job of holding up Mitchell from accounts, both of whom used to talk to me at the cooler. I knew things about them both; stuff we’d talked about freely before I’d become the boss. I knew that Anson was a guy who spoke his mind, just like Moira, and that Mitchell’s wife just had had a baby and this was probably his one night off to let loose. I wanted to know all my teams like that.

  “Next year will bring some changes,” I said, and the room hushed at the words. I was literally holding the future of Henderson McCormack in my hands. “We have completed some preparatory work on moving offices.” I paused for a moment, allowing that to soak in.

  I wanted to see Luke. When I caught his eye, he nodded encouragingly.

  “It would be in the city, and enable us to establish our company as one of the big players in the cutting-edge provision of marketing concepts, including an entire new team for strategy, and oversight. I will say that every single member of staff who wants to move with us has a job. There will be opportunity for everyone. I wanted you to know.”

  Everyone talked at once. Expenditure was usually limited to new photocopiers, or computers, and this was a huge move. I looked over at Luke again, who gave me thumbs up. I saw the J’s were talking to each other, none of them looking particularly happy at all.

  I finished the speech, thanked everyone, and then added one final thing.

  Raising my glass I proposed a toast. “To us all.”

  Every person close to me raised their glass; I couldn’t see much beyond them, only Luke who raised his water. That was it. Tonight was done.

  “So that’s it then,” Luke said.

  I’d driven from the party, which was winding up, having shaken everyone’s hands, it seemed. Some were excited, some nervous, each of the Js were singularly and together, pissed off with me. I saw them corner Dad, as if they could get him to change my mind. They stalked away after a heated exchange and then stood close to me muttering about leaving, and early retirement, and it being my loss. I couldn’t have been happier; the idea that they would leave was a bright shining light and I suggested professionally that I was open to allowing them to leave early, fully paid, of course.