Randolph Bessemer - rev

This is the revision.

Randolph Bessemer ran his hand through his still dark hair and thought about what he was going to do and the fact that soon he would be alone. He sat in the dark out on the pool deck of the Florida house drinking his Manhattan. His companion and partner for over 30 years lay in the hospital only a few mile away dying from the horrible tumors that were taking up more and more space in his brain each day. He hated that he would be losing Will, and he hated himself for what he was about to do.

He got up and paced the edge of the pool, rubbing the ache in his belly that always seemed to be there these days. R.B., as he liked to be called, thought back over their years together. Will had always been sensitive and little shy. R.B. was taken with him from the time he had come into band class his first day at Louisville Boys Collegiate High School.

Will wasn’t extraordinarily good-looking by conventional standards, but his dark wavy hair, his deep blue eyes and his smooth pale complexion went together in such a way that it made you notice him. Then when he smiled, his slightly crooked grin made his whole face glow with an inner radiance that made him look angelic yet, at the same time, roguish. And his nature was as sweet as his looks. Despite his natural shyness, Will was popular with the other boys in the band and, because of his natural ability and talent, quickly became the lead percussionist in the band.

R.B. had struggled with his feelings for other boys at Will’s age and, after seeing Will day after day in band, saw that he was struggling with the same feelings.

There had been boys come through his band room from time to time in whom R.B. saw himself. While he was careful never to take advantage of his young pupils, he would take them under his wing in order to let them know in subtle conversations that what they were feeling was not as abnormal as many of them thought. Fortunately, it was easier to mentor young men in the forties and fifties and even into the early sixties than it became later. The new openness of society was what eventually precipitated R.B.’s retirement from LBCHS when the parents of some of his students became suspicious of his motives in taking an interest in their sons. So much for openness, thought R.B. wryly.

He and Will became quite close while Will was in the band. R.B. offered him extra instruction in percussion and conducting, eventually picking Will to be the drum major his senior year. In part, this was to keep Will close by because he was so attracted to him. But R.B. also tried to get Will to open up about his feelings for boys instead of girls but, until Will’s senior year, never got anywhere. R.B. still remembered the break-through conversation with Will.

“So, Will?” R.B. asked one day as they were finishing their private lesson. “Who are you asking to the Senior Dance?”

“Oh, ahhh, well, actually no one, Mr. Bessemer,” Will stammered, blushing slightly.

“I see. I figured a nice looking boy like you would have girls clamoring to go out with him.”

“Yeah, well, I got plenty of my two sister’s friends that are always hanging around giving me the googly eyes all the time and telling my sisters how much they would love to go out on a date with me!”

“But you don’t care for any of them?”

“It’s not that. They’re nice enough girls, I guess,” and Will took a deep breath, “If you like that sort of thing.” As he finished, he looked sideways at R.B. to see what reaction the older man would have to this circumspect revelation.

“I know what you mean. I don’t think we’re all meant to like the same kinds of people or things. Sometimes, you’re just attracted to someone just because you are. I don’t think it’s anybody’s business who that person might be, it’s just between the two of you. You have to be who you are and not worry about what the world thinks about that. Do you know what I mean?”

“So, you don’t think I’m kooky not liking girls? I’ve feel like I’m the only one that feels this way and I didn’t know who I could talk to about it. It’s time for my next class now, but can I talk to you about this sometime?”

“We can talk anytime, Will. I want you to be able to come to me about anything, but especially about this. I really do know what you’re going through.”

And that was the true beginning of our relationship, R.B. thought to himself. He sagged back into the chair, his fleshy body causing the lounger to groan underneath him. He took another deep swallow of the Manhattan and leaned back, closing his eyes.

He remembered Will as the young man standing across from him at his music school asking him for a job. Even if R.B. hadn’t actually needed an instrument and sheet music salesman, he would have still hired Will to work for him. He had actually grieved a bit at graduation the month before, thinking he wasn’t going to have any excuse to see or spend time with Will any longer and now here he was, standing before him, looking a bit apprehensive around the eyes as he tried to project a confidence R.B. was pretty sure he wasn’t feeling.

Now that he was eighteen and no longer his student, R.B. had no qualms about getting to know Will better.

“You’ve got the job, Will. You can learn the basics of instrument sales. I already know you’ll work hard and do your best. Let me take you out to dinner tonight and I’ll go over the job and give you some tips on how approach it. If that’s ok with you, let’s meet at my house at 8.”

“Sure, Mr. Bessemer. Thanks so much for giving me a chance. I’ll see you at eight.”

“OK, and Will? Now that I’m no longer your band teacher, I’d like it if you’d call me R.B., ok??

“Sure enough,” Will hesitated. “I’ll see you at 8. . .R.B.”

Later that evening, R.B. dressed carefully for his first date with Will. His dark blue suit was fresh from the cleaners and the red and blue striped tie stood in sharp contrast against his starched, white, cotton dress shirt. As he slipped the gold, monogrammed cuff links through the french cuffs, he was surprised to realize he actually felt nervous. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t found other men to go out with before this, but he knew this was special and he knew this evening might make or break his budding friendship with a young man that, up till now, had seen him more as a teacher than a friend.

He needn’t had worried. Will was shy, at first, to be in the company of someone he felt was so much more worldly and sophisticated than he, but as the evening wore on, he relaxed and became more willing to express his thoughts and opinions to R.B. about a variety of subjects. Since R.B. had only known Will in the context of the band and music class, he was impressed with how intelligent and well-read he was.

The evening ended back at R.B.’s house on Cherokee Drive. R.B. could see that Will was awed by the house which had been in the Bessemer family for three generations. It was one of the huge, old Neo-Classicals with 12 foot ceilings on the first floor, 9 foot ceilings on the second and a third floor with only 6 1/2 foot ceilings. R.B. walked Will through it, telling him about this and that piece of family history scattered about the rooms. If he was boring the young man to death, Will was too polite to show it and listened with interest to everything R.B. said.

As Will started to leave, he thanked R.B. for dinner and again for the job, then paused, “Soooo, was this a date?”

R.B. chuckled, “Do you want it to be a date?”

“I don’t know. I guess. I’ve never actually been on a date, you know.”

“Well, I can see that, seeing as how most of your classmates would have probably beat you up if you’d asked them out. Yeah, I’d say it was a date. And you know what happens at the end of a date, don’t you?”
“Uh, not exactly.”

“Generally if two people have had a good time and enjoyed each other’s company, they’ll share a kiss at the end of the night, like this” and R.B. leaned over and kissed Will softly on the lips. Then he pulled him to him in a hug and kissed him more firmly, one hand behind his head, his tongue just breaking through to brush Will’s teeth. “How was that?”, he said quietly.

“I, I, I feel kinda funny. A little afraid, I think.”

“It’s ok to feel funny and even a little afraid, Will. But don’t be afraid of me. I’d like us to spend more time with each other and get to know each other better. Become comfortable with each other and I want you to become comfortable with who you are. I don’t think you are yet, but we can talk about it all you want until you get comfortable. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise.”

“If I don’t want to, do I still have the job?”, Will asked, looking a little concerned.

“Yes. I won’t hold the job over you to get you to go out with me. Not yet, anyway.”

Will looked even more concerned.

“No, no. Don’t look like that. I’m just teasing you. You go home and think about it, Will. I’ll see you on Monday and we’ll get you rolling.” With that, R.B. let Will out the door and kept his fingers crossed that young Will would decide to take him up on his offer, despite their 20 year age difference.

I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise. R.B. sighed and got up to fix himself another Manhattan. And yet, that’s just what I’m about to do. R.B. thought. You’re such a fucking bastard! Yeah, well, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to protect his legacy. If things weren’t so goddamn backward and it was me in that hospital bed, Will would be thinking the same thing.

In fact, Will had wanted to protect some of his legacy and R.B. had refused him. R.B., walking heavily, took the fresh drink back out to the lanai and sat back down in the lounger.

Will eventually consented to being R.B.’s young man and also became one of the music school’s top salesmen. After a few years had passed, R.B. shared with Will his plan for the next phase of his life. He was going to sell or close the music school because he wanted to establish a summer camp for high school marching bands. No one was doing anything like this and the kids in marching band forgot a lot over the summer of what they learned. It would give band directors a chance to work on field routines for the next fall and give all the band students a head start on next season’s half-time shows. He wanted Will to become partners with him in the enterprise.

“That’s all well and good, R.B.”, Will said at dinner the night R.B. shared the plan with him. “I think it’s a great idea and I would love to be involved, but I don’t have that kind of money.”

“I thought of that and what I’m willing to propose is that we’ll go in as 50-50 partners with me providing the capital and you providing the contracting and labor. If you help me build it, Will, half will be yours.”

“Let me talk to my dad and see if he’s willing to help. He’s ex-Seebees and I know he has a lot of experience in the various building trades. I’ll need his help, if I do this.”

Will talked with his dad, Will, Sr. who surprised his son by being very willing to help his only son learn how to be a builder and general contractor. With a team of workers, Will and Will, Sr, with R.B.’s money had the camp up and running by the next summer after the land was purchased the previous fall. It wasn’t a big first summer and they had some bugs to work out of the operation but R.B. and Will considered it a success.

Once the camp became a reality, R.B. and Will moved in together, first sharing a mobile home at the camp. After a few years, they were ready to expand again. This time they built a penthouse over one of the camp’s new dorm buildings. If anyone in either family had ever had any doubts about their relationship before this, they would have been erased with the construction of their huge master bedroom with the king size bed and the magnificent view of the surrounding hills and farmland. It was plainly obvious now to anyone that knew them that R.B. and Will were lovers, yet, no one in either family ever spoke of or even alluded to their relationship. R.B. had always wondered why no one ever said anything. Will was relieved by that fact.

Their lives became defined by the work of the camp. R.B. managed the business side of things, while Will learned to handle many of the construction and physical plant needs of the camp. His father was a tremendous help. After a particularly grueling summer and fall of Will, Sr. helping to put in their own water treatment plant, the younger Will came to R.B. with a request.

“R.B., you know my dad has really helped us out a lot around here. I don’t know if we’d be where we are right now if it hadn’t been for him.”

“Uh-huh”, R.B. agreed, only half listening while he scanned the newspaper.

“Well, I want to cut him in on the deal. I’m thinking I want to give him twenty percent out of my share. Are you ok with that?”

R.B. laid the newspaper down. “I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s a very good idea. I want to keep it simple. I think should remain ours. It gets too complicated when you start bringing other people to the table. If you want to give him some cash for his work, I’ve no problem with that, but I think we need to keep the ownership just between us. We’ll get him a nice Christmas present this year. I’ve been thinking he’d like one of those new color TV’s. What do you think?”

Will stared at R.B. with a look R.B. had never seen. Hostility and incredulity washed across his face, “I don’t believe you! My dad works his butt off around here and you don’t think it’s a good idea to let him have some of my share! I’m not asking you to give him any part of yours! Why can’t I give him part of my share if I want to?!”

“Well, first off, Will, we never put anything into writing, you and I, so your shares of the camp are only what you and I agree they are. Now I know I said 50-50 when we started this and right now I’m still agreeable to that, but that’s only as long as you stay here. If you were to leave, you’d have nothing, unless you sued and you and your family don’t have the money for that. The other point is that this is OUR business and I don’t want other people thinking they have any say in it. I’m fond of your old man, but he and I don’t agree on certain things and he has no idea the decisions that need to be made to keep things running here and make a profit. And neither do you!”

And that was the beginning of Will’s cooling feelings toward me, sighed R.B. I don’t think he suspected until that moment how I’d taken advantage of him. I know I was a cad to not suggest we draw up a contract and he was too young and trusting to think of it until probably right at that minute. But didn’t you make sure he always had money in his account and a new car every other year. You always bought whatever he said he needed to run the place. You treated him good, didn’t you? You loved him.

Will never mentioned cutting his dad in again. Several years later, when R.B. wanted to bring young Ray, his nephew, into the business, he didn’t say anything to Will until he presented him with the letters of incorporation to sign. When Will noticed the shares were split 51% to R.B., 30% to Will and the remaining 19% to Ray, Will just stared at R.B. with a look more hurt than angry. R.B. hadn’t even been brave enough to stand up to it. He busied himself with some trivial paperwork on his desk, until Will put down the pen, threw the papers on his desk and walked out.

Now R.B. was about to hurt Will again. Only this time he wasn’t even going to let him know what he was doing. R.B. slammed his drink down on the side table, almost breaking the glass. One ice cube jumped out and skittered off the edge onto the concrete of the deck. He hated himself, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t allow this to happen any other way. The camp was his idea and, while he had been perfectly willing to let Will share in the profit from that idea in exchange for his labor and loyalty, he certainly wasn’t going to lose 30% of it to Will’s family. In fact, the papers R.B. had for Will to sign transferred all but seven shares to Ray, at Will’s request, superceding his previous will. If only Will hadn’t insisted on having his will drawn up, this would be so much easier.

“R.B., we need to talk,” Will had said to him one late, summer afternoon while they were both working in the camp’s office. “Now that Dad’s gone, I’m going to draw up my own will. You might as well know, right now, that I’m not going to leave you my share of the camp. It seems to me, anyway, the longer I’m around, somehow the less I own of this place. If I go before you, I want to know that Mom or, if she’s gone, my sisters will get my share of the camp. I want it in writing that that’s the way it should go. You already have so much, I want to make sure that they have something from the work I’ve spent my life doing.”

“Sure, Will, if that’s what you want to do, go right ahead. I’m not going to stop you. I’ll just offer to buy them out and I’m sure I can make them a generous offer. As to you owning less the longer you’re here, frankly, you should be thankful I didn’t just kick you out with nothing and give your share to Ray. I love you, boy, and that’s why I didn’t. But until we incorporated, you do realize that your share only existed through my good graces and appreciation for the work you’ve done here. I just want to make that perfectly clear to you.”

But the truth is, Will, I can’t afford to buy them out right now. The camp’s not done as well the last year or two, with the cost of everything going up. With the cost of your illness on top of everything else, it’s probably going to cost me a great deal of money to keep things operating. I’m actually going to help your family out by not letting them get involved. It may bankrupt me, Will, and if they own much of it, it may bankrupt them as well. I’m just thinking of you.

With that final thought, R.B. downed the last of many Manhattan’s and fell into bed, sleeping the deep, dreamless sleep of the drunk and guiltless.

The next morning he went to the hospital, papers in hand, hungover, with the guilt returning in force.

“How are you doing today, sweet boy?” R.B. ran his hand down Will’s arm, giving his hand a squeeze when he got to it.

“I feel pretty weak. I don’t think I’ll be around much longer. I’m so tired!”

“I wish I could do more for you.”

“You’ve done so much for me, R.B. I want you to know that despite our troubles in the past, I’m grateful to you for all you’ve ever done for me. And the life I’ve had with you. There are things I wisht had turned out different and yes, I guess, I mean, I have some regrets, but there's nothing to be done about it now. I realize I made my bed and. . .Anyway, even when I didn't like you very much, I guess I kept on loving you I. . .I wanted you to know that. . .before. . .” Will’s voice trailed off.

“Now, now. We’ve had a good run, I’d say. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. I do need you to do one thing for me, if you can manage it. I have this paper here that you need to sign. It’s to allow me to make your medical decisions for you when. . . in case you go. . . aren’t able to. It also makes me responsible for all the medical bills that the insurance doesn’t cover. Here just sign down at the bottom.” And R.B. laid the paper down for Will to sign, making sure the top part stayed covered so he couldn’t read it. Although, it’s doubtful he would have. He could barely manage his signature at the bottom as it was.

Later that day, R.B. called their lawyer back in Kentucky, “Bob? R.B. here. Yeah, well, thanks. He’s not doing too well. The doctors say it’s only a matter of days now. Thanks. Listen, that’s why I called. Will’s drawn up a new will and he wanted me to make sure to call and tell you to destroy your copy of the other one. Yeah, I can send you a copy, if you need it. Ok, I’d appreciate it. I’ll get it out tomorrow. Thanks. Talk to you soon. What’s that? Oh, yeah, sure, I’ll let you know about any arrangements when it happens. Bye, now.” With that, R.B. hung up the phone.

He walked over to the bar at the side of the living room and fixed himself another Manhattan and took a long sip of it. He sat it down and picked up a set of papers bound in blue legal paper and his lighter. Then he walked to the fireplace, opened the draft, laid the papers on the grate and held the lighter to them. They caught, burned quickly and left a small pile of ash in the bottom that the housekeeper would later complain about having to clean up. It was done. R.B. took another long drink.

Less than ten years later, karma exacted it’s revenge on R.B.’s betrayal. The doctors called it senior dementia, not Alzheimer’s. Out of three generations of a large family of long-lived, vital ‘till the end people, he alone lost his mind.