Jeffrey shrugged.
Until now, Henry had been Jeffrey’s older brother. The future earl. Someone Jeffrey needed to lift up and, in the same breath, someone Jeffrey needed to protect. This was the relationship they were supposed to have, as had been written in stone since the moment of Jeffrey’s birth. Those “need”s and “supposed”s were the bricks with which their relationship was built, and the love was the mortar filling the gaps in between. The plot that drove Richard from England might have seemed to strengthen their brotherhood, but all it did was add another layer of bricks.
What kind of older brother was Henry? What kind of younger brother was Jeffrey?
Jeffrey had a feeling the time had come to decide these things that had never been worth figuring out before. Both men had completed a good fraction—a half and a third, respectively—of their lives already. It wouldn’t be easy, Jeffrey knew, but there was also no escaping it any longer.
His smile was bitter. “Chim, I know you had some sort of function…a dinner?…with them, but you really have no idea who my brothers are or how we get along. As much as it pains me to say, they only think of you as an emergency nursemaid with a PhD in Jeffrey. That’s why they reached out to you.”
“Oh, hon. You really don’t have any friends, do you?”
“‘Yes, please do mend your business partner’s broken heart. But fear not! We are not asking for this to be a permanent arrangement.’”
Joachim did not look away from Jeffrey. His eyes, the same color as the night sky, shone with sincerity. He looked to Jeffrey like he was about to cry. Joachim tried to tilt his head teasingly—You got me there—but his face didn’t play along.
“Was it something weird, like that?” Jeffrey said. “My brother and cousin are a couple of smooth talkers. We may be British men in the era of third-party diplomacy, but it’s shocking how well they can wheel and deal. It’s no wonder they got you to agree to play along.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t take this any longer.”
“Huh?”
“I can’t stand us playing these games any longer.”
Jeffrey realized, belatedly, that his face was stuck fast. The tiny pilot in his chest jerked on the robot remote control joystick—Smile, smile, damn you!—and pounded on his chest, but a smile refused to appear. Joachim’s sentence lodged in Jeffrey’s heart like a spike made of ice, and now none of his robot components worked as they should.
Joachim crossed to Jeffrey, placed his hands on either side of Jeffrey’s cheeks, and smooshed that pliable face—a face that could transform itself oh-so very well, even without makeup.
“Jeffrey, listen carefully, because I have something important to tell you. I’ve decided that I’m going to be happy.”
“…Okay? Good for you. Go be happy.”
“Don’t give me that! Jeffrey, please.” Joachim, his face warped with pain, spoke slowly, like he was reasoning with an emotionally stunted child. “Listen, Jeffy. Every person on Earth deserves happiness. That includes me. And you.”
“…I don’t know what you mean by ‘deserves.’”
“It means I’ve chosen to put down this hangup I’ve held on to for years. No, that’s not quite it. I’ve given up. I’ve given up on constantly whipping my own heart to soothe my guilty conscience. You see, there was no point to it. What’s done is done, Jeffy. My boyfriend is dead because of me, and he’s not coming back. There’s no point in paying reparations to his scumbag of a brother, either. You knew, too, didn’t you? You knew I was being a fool, but you went along with it anyway. See, that’s where the point is. That’s what matters. Jeffy, I would rather have the kindness you showed me by going along with my silliness than my old self-serving guilt.”
Silence.
“I’ve chosen happiness. Or, no—because of you, Jeffy, I’ve come to want happiness. I want to see photos of myself living a happy life and hit the ‘like’ button on every single one.”
Joachim finished. In the silence he left behind, Jeffrey nodded his head the barest of degrees. Once. Twice. Several times more, and by then Joachim was returning the gesture.
“Please, Jeffy. Give up with me. Abandon your decision to deprive yourself of happiness.”
“…But why?”
“No reason! None! I’m just asking you, Jeffy.”
Jeffrey could imagine a thousand reasons. Because Joachim couldn’t be happy without Jeffrey’s happiness. Because it was wrong and unnatural for Jeffrey to force himself to stay unhappy. Because, because, because. There were no end of reasons he could conceptualize. There were many and more reasons to justify the pursuit of happiness, which Jeffrey knew, of course. He understood quite well that he was smart enough to create rational counterarguments for any of them. But how was he supposed to turn down someone who was “just asking”? That, right there, was the one thing he didn’t know at all.
As he struggled with the problem, he reached for Joachim’s cheek and wiped away a glistening droplet of water with his fingertip.
“…Don’t cry.”
“How can I not? I’m a crier, Jeffy. More than you, at any rate. Oh, I knew I’d end up like this. This is why I didn’t put on makeup today.”
“Because you’re more beautiful without?”
“That too.”
Jeffrey cracked a smile as Joachim joked through his tears. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t manage to make it look cruel. Not while he was as shaky as a piece of paper.
“Well, since you’re just asking…how can I not?”
Like shutters cracking open. Like air bubbles spewed out on the sea floor, now rising to the surface.
Joachim caught that tiny whisper and let a small smile of his own spread across his face.
“And that’s the long and short of it.”
“I see.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“By all means.”
“How have things been since? You been doing okay?”
The two men sat and conversed on a porch overlooking a sprawling grassy quadrangle large enough to accommodate several tennis courts. The day was sunny and bright, but the antique table rested in the shade under the mansion’s eaves. It was set for two with black tea in bright pastel China cups.
In one chair sat Jeffrey Claremont, wearing a rather casual yet still tasteful blue outfit. Across from him, cloaked in black from head to toe like a figure straight from the nineteenth century, was Henry Claremont. Until their father’s mourning period had passed, the new earl was to dress all in black like Queen Victoria herself.
Compared to his younger brother, Henry looked a tad on the pale side. He sighed, before forming a stiff smile.
“Looking out for me as ever, are you?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. It’s best you don’t.”
“I’m compromising. Joachim told me to punch you, but I figured that would make it seem like I forgive you for ruining my privacy.”
Jeffrey was referring to the Sri Lankan incident. The time Henry disclosed what was a rather personal matter for Jeffrey without his consent. Not to Henry meeting Joachim without even telling Jeffrey…but Jeffrey would overlook that for the moment, as he told Henry.
“Listen, it kills people. Outing someone can be deadly. It’s psychological murder, not to mention illegal in places like Japan. I could take you to court and win, and you would have to pay me for damages. Capiche?”
“Yes. I am aware.”
“You were aware, and yet you still did it. Were you trying to kill me?”
“…No, that was not my goal. Nevertheless, it appears that was the unfortunate result.”
“Hmm.” Jeffrey pursed his lips and tapped a finger to them like a housewife engrossed in her shopping. Eventually, the movement stopped, and he glanced at Henry. “I don’t forgive you.”
Henry did not respond.
“I have no inclination to ever forgive you. Not one little bit.”
“Yet you’re still willing to speak to me, and for that, I am very grateful.”
“That’s exactly why I flew in from Paris, actually. Thank you for making the time to see me.”
Birds twittered and flitted through the trees of the vast woodland on the Claremont estate. Henry looked skyward, watching the clouds drift along as if they were time itself flowing by.