Gents & Dames
Eighteen: Sit Down, You're Rocking the Boat
The odd thing was, for all of the planning, the problem-solving, the list-making, the brainstorming... for all of that, David had never actually pictured the library opening going off without a hitch. He was certain something would come up, that some crisis would ruin everything. And it would happen in front of President Taft—and the millionaires who'd helped make the library a reality. So he'd braced himself for disaster, imagining a million worst-case scenarios and how to stop them midstream.
And yet it happened almost perfectly. President Taft arrived on time, along with Governor Dix; Mayor Gaynor was running late from his lunch appointment, but had sent word he'd be there shortly. Things had started nearly on time, as guests arrived, gathered in front of the building. It was a splendid chance for photos; all of New York's highest society and most influential families were there. And, David mused, if he hadn't once walked angrily into Joseph Pultizer's office making demands, he'd have been very intimidated. It was rather hard to be intimidated by anything, with that as a point of reference.
So he shook hands with people he'd barely ever imagined meeting, and stood behind and to the side of President Taft as he stood atop the stairs in front of the library and orated. Finally Taft gave the motion to waiting assistants to pull back the tarps over the statues, revealing Edward Potter's genius—the two matched lion statues that would forever stand guard outside the library, proudly named Leo Astor and Leo Lux, after the library's two most generous contributors.
The crowd gasped and cameras from dozens of papers flashed. David could picture the front pages: the lions, the President, and above-the-fold text. The headline would, of course, be dull—but the President's presence would sell it, regardless.
After the whole group finally made it inside to admire the books and the architecture. The gasps all echoed, and David flushed with pleasure. The architecture—that had been done long before he'd even considered applying to the library, but the books were all his. For over a year, he'd been buying, unpacking, cataloging, organizing... Thousands upon thousands of books, the collected work of hundreds of generations, were stacked in this library. And he'd made it happen.
Inside, everyone diligently sat in their seats, and President Taft resumed his Master of Ceremonies duty. There were several other speakers, mostly praising the generous donations that had made this the greatest library in the world. And then, finally, it was time for David's speech—the one he'd been working on for months, the climax and grand finale of the ceremony.
He drank half a glass of water before stepping up to the podium. He cleared his throat, glanced at the papers in front of him, and began to speak. He was so worried about making his voice carry that he forgot to worry about stuttering or stammering—though he'd also been reading this speech aloud to himself in front of his mirror for the last two weeks. He spoke for quite some time: he spoke about how the lions, and how strength had once made them King of the Jungle, but now knowledge would be the kingmaker. He spoke about his own education, and how he'd learned from his parents, learned in school, learned on the streets—and how a collection of knowledge as vast and free as this one would only make learning easier, more accessible, for people like him, who'd had the drive to better themselves and were only looking for the means. And he spoke about the new library's systems, of how its knowledge was catalogued and organized in such a way that it would make it infinitely easier to find what you sought.
It concluded to applause, and he was almost surprised when he ran out of words. But President Taft shook his hand and declared the ceremony over, the library open, and suggested that perhaps the delicious snacks they'd had catered might be appropriate.
David found himself wandering through the crowd, getting his hand shaken, matching famous names up with real people. It was actually a little unreal—the most influential person he'd ever met had been Pulitzer, and that had hardly been on good terms. But these people were accepting him, congratulating him. And even inviting him over for dinner, suggesting he ought to join them for outings. The idea that he might be welcome in their oh-so-exclusive circles was not one he'd ever contemplated.
Overwhelmed but pleased, he did remember to keep his eye on the time. He absolutely had to be at Sarah's wedding on time, even if it required excusing himself from the library a bit early. After all, given the disaster of her last wedding, he felt obligated to make sure this one went perfectly.
He was pulled out of his euphoric reverie by the voice of Mayor Gaynor, which was unnaturally gravelly—the mayor had, after all, survived a bullet to the throat early in his term. "Mr. Jacobs!"
"Mayor Gaynor," David answered, pleased to meet him at last.
"That was a mighty fine speech, son. You're a credit to this city."
David smiled. "I'm just glad to be a part of it."
The Mayor glanced around. "Ah—I brought an extra friend with me today, I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not," David said. He'd actually planned for it, given the number of times the mayor had changed the number of people he planned to bring.
"We'd just been having lunch together, you see. He's a fascinating young gentleman from California—an oil man. You must meet him, where... Ah!"
The words sunk in even before Mayor Gaynor picked Jack out of the crowd. At least the warning gave David enough time to brace himself. And sure enough, moments later Gaynor was gesturing over Jack, who was dressed up for the occasion—though his hair was, as always, slightly too long.
"Mr. Jacobs, this is my new acquaintance, Mr. Jack Kelly of Standard Oil of California. When I mentioned the library to him, he was so excited, he just had to see the opening."
Jack was smiling politely and held out his hand. "That was quite some speech...Mr. Jacobs."
"Thanks," David said shortly, then, remembering he did want to make a good impression on the mayor, said, "Actually, Mayor Gaynor, Mr. Kelly and I have known each other for quite some time."
"Is that so?"
"Sure is," Jack said, dropping his hand only to casually sling an arm around David instead. David stiffened at the gesture, but if Jack noticed, he didn't care. "Mr. Jacobs and me—I—used to sell newspapers together, as a matter of fact. And look at us now."
"Well!" Gaynor said enthusiastically. "Imagine that! So inspiring, how far you two have come. Have you considered writing your memoirs?"
Jack smiled. "Nah, not me. All I did was get lucky. Da—Mr. Jacobs, here, though, he did it the old-fashioned way, with hard work."
David smiled politely, but finally managed to pull away from Jack. "Why—thanks," he said, trying to force his voice to sound less annoyed than he felt. "But I think I'm more qualified to catalogue books than to write them."
"Nonsense!" the mayor declared.
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "I mean, as long as I've known you, David, you've been able to do anything you put your mind to."
David managed not to scowl. Instead, he said, "Pardon me, Mayor, but would you mind if Mr. Kelly and I caught up for a bit? We haven't seen each other in quite some time." He shot Jack an angry look. "Ten years, in fact."
"Oh, of course, of course," Gaynor agreed. "So glad to have brought you back together, then!"
"Yeah," Jack said. "Me, too."
The Mayor started off to talk to another acquaintance—David assumed he knew just about everyone at the ceremony—and left them alone. Or as alone as they could be, in the midst of the crowd.
"What are you doing here?" David hissed.
"I had to talk to you," Jack said simply. "And I wanted to see this place... You spent so much time on it, and I wanted to see your speech. Which was great, Dave. You're...great."
David took a deep breath. "Please leave," he said.
"Yeah, I... In a minute," Jack said. "And tomorrow, I'm leaving for good. But Dave, I need to—I need to talk to you, please. In private."
David glanced around at the crowd, and finally said, "If I give you five minutes to talk, will you leave?"
"In private," Jack repeated.
"Fine. Here." David strode purposefully to his office; it was away from the crowd and the din. Jack stepped in and David followed him, and shut the door behind them. Hand still on the knob, he turned and looked expectantly at Jack, who was staring nervously around the room. Not that there was much to see; while the room itself was a nice corner office with large windows, but David was modest enough that, aside from a large oak desk, he hadn't asked the library for the lavish furnishings he knew they would have expected. "Well?" David finally demanded, when Jack didn't say anything. "What the hell is so important?"
"I love you," Jack blurted quickly.
It hung in the air between them for a moment. Jack shut his mouth with an audible snap of teeth against teeth, and his eyes went wide as if he wasn't sure what he'd just said. And David just stared back at him, not quite sure what he was hearing, and finally he managed, "What?"
"I... love you," Jack repeated softly, now looking up at David, looking him in the eyes. He looked open, and earnest. And vulnerable. And David was abruptly aware that they were standing very close together, very nearly toe-to-toe. He shuffled back, away, but had only inches to go before his back hit the door. He dropped his hand from the knob finally, and felt almost off-balance.
He didn't mean to reach for Jack, but he felt his fingers on Jack's sleeve, and glanced at his hand, pale against Jack's suit, then looked up, and Jack was leaning towards him, and then somehow their lips were pressed together and as the words Jack had said finally resolved into a phrase that made sense to David, so did a lot of other things.
Jack's lips were warm and he tasted like smoke. His mouth was open and David could feel Jack's tongue, awkward in his mouth, but not uncomfortable. And he felt Jack's hands suddenly on his shoulders, and felt the door at his back, and Jack at his front and Jack's hair on his neck and Jack's eyelashes against his cheek.
And so many things became clear. Things David had been carefully not thinking about for over a decade, shadows at the back of his mind finally resolved themselves into real images, emotions. Want and lust and—more. Completion. The feeling of being whole, the realization that something—this—had been missing for a very long time.
Jack suddenly made sense, too. Thousands of tiny gestures and huge lies fell into place, because if Jack loved him...if Jack loved him, of course he couldn't have married Sarah. But if Jack loved him, he shouldn't have left.
David released his grip on Jack's arm, pushed him ever so slightly away. Jack stumbled back several steps, blinking, as if he'd just realized some things himself.
And finally, Jack said, "I—I didn't know how to say it. I been trying to figure it out since I was seventeen. I was just—just afraid. I thought you'd hate me or something, I don't know, and then I got involved with Sarah just to be near you and I—I had to go, David, I had to. But I love you, I always loved you."
David knew without asking that it was the truth. But it wasn't enough, because Jack had proposed to Sarah and then left her, and he had stolen their money, and he had lied so many times. It was a reason, and a good one, but it couldn't fix things. Nothing could, not really.
When David didn't say anything, Jack continued. "I never figured that...I never expected..." He took a breath and cleared his throat. "I came to tell you that. And that I—I need you. I got you a train ticket." As he spoke, he reached into his breast pocket and produced a slim envelope. "I don't expect you to use it, really, I just want to know that you have it, that you can come... That I'll always be waiting for you." He set the envelope on the desk.
Their eyes met again, but neither one moved. David wasn't sure he could move; he could barely even think. He felt numb, really, in shock.
"You gonna say anything?" Jack finally asked him.
"What can I possibly say?" David answered, which felt honest.
Jack shut his eyes for a second, heaved a deep breath, and finally said, "I guess that's... That's it, then." He started for the door and David stepped away from it, but before he opened it, he paused. "Well, at least this time I can say goodbye." He squared his shoulders. "I won't bother you again. But you—the train ticket. Please think about it, David." Another deep breath. "Goodbye."
He shut the door after himself and David stumbled to the chair behind his desk and collapsed into it. He had to leave soon to get to the wedding, and he was sure his absence at the reception was noticeable, but he definitely wasn't ready to face the rest of the world yet.