Chapter 33

LONDON, Arthur sat on the couch, resting his head on Bernard's shoulder.

Bernard stroked his back. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I'm okay," Arthur said, grateful for the affection. He wished he could have more, though. Bernard had to get to the set. He was late already.

 "I think you should go," Bernard said. "But it's up to you. I support you either way." "

You're perfect, Monkey Butt," Arthur said.

"Thanks." Bernard kissed him and stood up. "I better go."

Arthur agreed.

He walked his husband to the door. They kissed again; then Bernard walked out.

The day before, Arthur had gotten an email from his father; not a personal one. It was a group email. Either way, it was the first time he had heard from his father in over two weeks.

A huge fight had preceded the silence. 

Arthur had thrown the first stone. Instead of thanking his father for the audition, he accused him of never supporting him as an actor.

I can't remember one time in my life that you've given me praise or encouragement for my acting. Not one! And why are you showing support now? 

Did you suddenly realize I might have talent, or is this another one of your manipulative tactics? You can't stand the fact that one of us has escaped your clutches and moved away, can you? 

Remember when I was in high school and I had a part in Dracula. You said nothing to me afterward. I had to ask…fish for compliments. From my own father! Do you know how demeaning that was? 

But you know what? I came up empty. All you could say is "That was fine but don't give up your day job." Do you know how much your words hurt me? 

If that's not bad enough, how about you telling Zoe, Taylor and me that we better be grateful for our affluent lifestyle, because when we grow up and move out, things will be different. You couldn't once imagine that we'd achieve success equal to yours. 

Parents are supposed to want to see their child succeed. It seems to me you've always wanted the opposite. You want us to fail. Why? Do you feel threatened? Jealous? I am really sick of your narcissism.

And he felt really sick after he had sent the email.

Not right away. At first, he felt quite okay.

That lasted about ten minutes.

Then doubt started to sink in. Yes, he meant every mean thing he said in the email, but maybe it wasn't the right time to say it.

Or maybe he shouldn't have said it at all. Maybe he should have just said. That's my father. I can't change him. I'll just try to not let him drive me insane. 

What did he expect from the email when writing it? Would his father write back and say, I'm so sorry. I've been horrible. Yes, I feel insecure about you becoming successful. I'm going to work on being better, and by the way, you are a fantastic actor. I'm so proud of you.

Yes, he kind of did expect that. Everyone had their delusions.

Bernard helped him shatter that one. He had sheepishly shared the email when Bernard returned from work.

"Well…" Bernard had said. "You got it off your chest. And I definitely understand where you're coming from."

"But?"

"Phillip isn't going to give you the reaction you want. You know that, don't you?"

Yeah. He did.

He had waited nervously for his father's response.

It came a few hours later. His dad didn't recall the Dracula comment; nor did he recall making the comment about affluent lifestyles. Typical, Arthur thought. His father had such a convenient memory.

What his father did remember was working very hard throughout his life. Why? So he could provide for his wife and children. So he could give to the community. So he could help people in need, whether it was his children, mother-in-law, friend, neighbor, or a stranger.

His dad wrote:

If you have a problem with me caring so much about others and giving so selflessly, I feel sorry for you. 

Does that mean I believe you can't be successful? Never! I have always believed in you and I have expressed that numerously throughout the years  (Liar!) 

But it seems you are very ignorant about the business world. It is not always about your talents. It is about who you know. You're very fortunate to be the son of someone who has wide connections. If you want to be spiteful and refuse my help, that is your choice. But you are only hurting yourself.

That was the end of that email. Another one followed shortly.

I want you to know that you can hate me all you want. I can take it. I'm a strong man. But always know that I love you. My wife and children are the most important things to me. It hurts me profoundly to know you are blind enough to believe otherwise.

How was one supposed to respond to that? Arthur didn't find comfort from his father's expressed love. It just made him angry. Well, no, not just that. It had made him doubt himself.

What if his father was right? Maybe Arthur was blind and had ignored all the good throughout the years. Maybe his father wasn't a controlling, narcissistic, manipulative man with a convenient ability to forget his mistakes and rarely praise his offspring. Maybe he was a good father and Arthur was the one with the memory problems. Maybe his father had praised him, and he had forgotten it.

As he had thought about it, a memory actually surfaced. He and some neighborhood friends had done a play in their garage. His dad had applauded loudly and said. "I'm impressed."

So his email had been untrue. His father had praised him. At least once. Maybe there had been more times. Forgotten.

He searched his brain. No, he couldn't remember any. But who knew. He could understand why they say there's two sides to every story. Here Arthur was in the actual story, and he didn't know whose side to take. He had thought about writing his father an email apologizing, saying he did remember one incident of praise.

Or at least he could write and say something simple. Like…I love you and, though, I have grievances, I still think you're a great father.

But as he thought about that and planned to write the email, more memories had flooded into his head. 

For example, he was in many more plays besides Dracula. Yet that was the only one his father had seen. Why? He was always too busy with work. And back then, he had the nerve to say on several occasions, “If something is important, I will rearrange my schedule," Apparently, his son's acting was not important enough.

He remembered gaining a few pounds and his father sending him an article about obesity. He had been only two pounds overweight!

He remembered being forced to miss his best friend's birthday party because it was on a Sunday, and Sunday was family time.

He remembered being called selfish because during a trip to Disney World, Arthur suggested it might be fun to skip the Magic Kingdom Fireworks and use that time to go on rides instead. The rides would be less crowded. No. Watching the fireworks was a Jenson family Disney tradition. Translated: I love the fireworks and don't you dare take that away from me.

God-forbid his father miss one night of fireworks

And no it was not okay for the family to split up for an hour or so at Disney World. According to Phillip, vacations were not about separating. They were about togetherness and compromise.

Compromise! Arthur didn’t have a problem with that. Not at all. But compromise to his father meant his father having his own way, and his family being agreeable and enabling.  

For disagreeing about the fireworks, Arthur was labeled as selfish. It wasn't the first, and it wasn't the last time he was called that by Dear Old Dad. So, no. He didn't write the email of apology. He kept silent.

Bernard had said once. "But what if he dies, and you guys haven't worked things out?"

Arthur had laughed.

It had taken a second for Bernard to realize his mistake. Then he had laughed too.

 ***

Now his father had broken the silence with the group email. Some major project involving the ghost stuff.

Arthur wasn’t going to even try to interpret it. He'd learn more later.

His father, though, had sent him a second email. This one was to him only.

I am still hurt by your cruel words, but I want you to know that on my end, the door is still open, and it will always be open. Also, the offer for the audition still stands. I talked to my friend, and they're still looking for talented actors. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! I may be a foolish old man, but trust me when I say you really should not let your venomous hatred of me harm your career.

Once in a lifetime opportunity? Did that mean he should never expect to get an opportunity again? Did his father not recognize how insulting that was?

His father was so overdramatic. Venomous hatred? He might be angry at his father but when had he ever said he hated him?

That was the thing about Phillip Jenson—you either worshiped him or you were labeled as a hater. There was no room for criticism.

All that was besides the point, though. Arthur wondered if he should swallow his pride and do the audition.

Yes, his father's reasons were probably not what he’d like them to be. But so what? Was it the end of the world if he gave his father what he wanted?  Was what his father wanted that horrible? All three of his children nearby?

It was a bit suffocating, but it wasn’t his father's worst trait. It also wouldn't be a permanent move. If he got the part, he'd spend a few months in Atlanta; then move back to London. Bernard was fine with him going. 

Not too fine, though. Arthur had been glad to see him looking sad about it. But then Bernard had said,"Sometimes actors have to separate for a while. It's the way of the business. We'll talk everyday. Multiple times a day."

"We can have phone sex," Arthur had offered. Though they had tried that in the early years of their relationship, when Arthur was in Los Angeles and Bernard was in London. It hadn't worked too well. Arthur found it to be a bit embarrassing.

They were older now, though.

Maybe they'd be better at it.

No.

Probably not.

 *** 

After dwelling obsessively about it, Arthur made his decision. He was going to go for it.

He wrote an email to his father.

He didn’t apologize for everything (because he wasn’t sorry about everything), but he did apologize for being angry rather than grateful about the audition.

His father wrote back very quickly, short and business-like. He didn’t mention the fight. He asked what times were best for Arthur and said as soon as he got the needed information, he’d buy plane tickets for Arthur.

Arthur hated that his dad was buying him plane tickets. He felt like a spoiled rich boy. He understood he should be grateful, though.

And he tried to be.

Continue to Chapter Thirty-Four

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