They sat at the café, Arthur staring into his drink and Alfred wearing an awkward smile. They had just had a small and stilted conversation, about nothing at all. In fact, it was so insignificant; neither truly remembered what it was about.
"Arthur, did you get to read my story? I'll have another one out in a week."
"Oh?" The Englishman looked up. "No…I didn't. Not yet. I truly wanted to, but I just-I've been so busy lately. I'm sorry."
"That's alright." The boy tried desperately to murder the disappointment eating up his eyes. "We all get busy at times. But do you think you could read it this week? I really want to know what you think."
"Yes, of course." Brows dropped. "Alfred, let me buy you a drink."
"You don't have to make it up to me, Mr. Kirkland. I understand." A pause. "Has there been something wrong lately? I don't intend to offend you, but…You don't seem quite right."
"I think I've gone and fallen in love."
"In love? With who?" There was an air of disbelief surrounding the opposite. The man had only been here about three weeks. One can't fall in love in such a short amount of time. Or could they?
Before the man spoke, his gaze touched to just about everything aside from the one he was speaking to. This wouldn't be such a confession if the object of all this affection was a woman, but Francis clearly was not.
"Arthur, what is it?"
"Please, promise me you won't laugh."
"Why would I laugh? Who is it?"
"An actor…Francis Bonfeuille." Cheeks became inebriated just as the mention of that name. "He's been on my mind since I've met him and it's driving me mad."
"Is it because he's another man, Mr. Kirkland?"
"No-I don't know what it is. I feel like I make a fool of myself whenever we speak, but that's not the only issue I'm having. My insides are just turning themselves into knots and-" Teeth secured that bottom lip. "He asked me if I would pose for him; he's a painter too, but I said no and I don't even know why. I just felt like…Like it was something I shouldn't do. Like giving him everything he wants was actually a bad idea."
"Well, agreeing to pose for a painting isn't really giving him everything, now is it? You can certainly do that much without feeling terrible. I think it would be a good time for either of you." Alfred looked at his companion with a soft focus. "Is that all you've been frustrated about?"
"No, that's not all, but it's all revolving around the same thing. This is his fault. I can't even think straight, and it's Bonfeuille's doing." A few seconds lapsed while the distraught poet thought. "Doesn't it bother you that I'm in love with someone of the same sex?"
"It doesn't bother me personally, no. The Bible says it's wrong to love another man, but I'm not in any position to judge, Mr. Kirkland. You love who you love. It's not like this is something you're doing on purpose to upset anyone. You just happen to feel a certain way about a certain someone. Besides, I think everyone runs into this kind of attraction at least once in their lives, if not more than once. It's really just a matter of whether or not they decide to act on it. More power to you if you do. At least you have the courage to take what you want. And God will forgive you. Maybe He intended you to have this relationship. No one can know this sort of thing for certain."
They stared at one another for a long moment. "Alfred, have you even loved anyone of the same sex?"
The boy did not answer.
"I'm sorry, I'm being a fool. I shouldn't ask such an awful question."
"No, it's alright. I would probably wonder the exact same thing if I had just heard that speech." A pause. "Well, yes. I have. I've never actually been with that person, but I did love them intensely. But I've loved women as well, and it was the same sort of love; romantic love. Not just a love based off of a friendship, or simple affection; I mean I fell in love with that person. But that's all over now."
"Well, that makes me feel much better."
"Mr. Kirkland, you should never go thinking you're the only one. Lots of people have this dilemma; they just don't care to admit it because it's considered a sin. No one wants to be a sinner, even if we're all sinners. Not only that, but many people look down on others for having that kind of feeling, even if they might be just as bad in another part of their lives." The young man stopped speaking to gather his thoughts. "Love is a beautiful thing. And even if someone else might judge you for it, I'm happy for you, Mr. Kirkland."
"Thank you, Alfred."
"Of course. Have you told your friend about your feelings for him?"
"I didn't even have to. Francis told me first."
"Oh. That's quite a bit easier then, isn't it? So what's upsetting you if you both love one another? You're just nervous of doing something wrong?"
"I suppose so. That's the only way I can make sense of it, but I'm sure there's some other underlying issue I'm missing. It's just one of those things I really cannot put into words, and every time I can, I never cover the problem entirely. Just one aspect of what I think is wrong, and then I'll think about it and that doesn't seem like it's what I'm upset about anyway." Arthur allowed his chin to sink into his open palm.
"So, you're frustrated."
"Precisely! I'm simply…I'm frustrated out of my mind. I know it's not because Francis is a man. I don't care about that, really. If I did, I wouldn't have even come back to one of his shows, but I'm there almost every night. It's something else, and for the life of me, I can't put my finger on it."
"Maybe you're bothered because you didn't pose for him."
"Do you think I should?"
"Well Mr. Kirkland, if someone had asked to paint me, I would say yes without even thinking about it. It's quite the honor to be asked to model for someone. Perhaps it's because you know this is a sign of his affection towards you and you turned it down. I would feel badly if I refused a loving gesture from someone I liked just as well. You should tell him you'd love to pose, even if it does involve a lot of stillness and discomfort."
The Englishman thought a lengthily moment. "It's only a few hours of time, after all. I might really end up enjoying myself."
"You see? You have to give these things a chance."
"You're right, Alfred. And it will make Francis happy. Then maybe I can clear up the mess in my head because I'll have nothing more to feel guilty about."
The American boy offered an approving nod.
"Thank you. I'm going to do just that. And I'm also going to read your article. How have you been, by the way? I'm sick of talking about myself. What have you been doing, Mr. Jones?"
"Just what I always do. Nothing too interesting. At the moment, I'm writing about one of the churches in Paris that's running a charity for the homeless, but it's not very interesting, to be honest. It's a great cause and what-not, but unfortunately, a dancing cat would have sold more copies."
Arthur laughed and Alfred smiled. And they spoke for numerous minutes until the young man had to go, a meeting with his editor cutting their time short. But that was alright. Alfred had truly made Mr. Kirkland feel much better about his circumstances, and now he was certain what direction he would take.
As Alfred walked away from the Englishman and his sherbet orange journal, Arthur made a vow that he would be more daring. All this concern and worry were only managing to make him sick to his stomach. He would make bold moves and not sit in utter doubt over them either.
It then occurred to him that Alfred had called him 'Mr. Kirkland' the entire time as well.
What a sweet, sweet boy.
He was glad they were to meet again.