"Hey, Dad," Blaine said as he pushed open the door to his office at the newspaper. "Tina said you weren't busy."
Joel Anderson glanced up from his computer to look at his son. "Not too busy. What do you need?"
Blaine came in the rest of the way, shutting the door softly behind him. He hung his head, staring at the floor. He didn't know if he had it in him to meet his dad's eyes right then. What he was about to say was too embarrassing. "I came to ask you for a job…" he said softly.
His father's head snapped up at that. "A job? You mean like the junior reporter job?"
"Yeah."
Mr. Anderson didn't say anything for a while. He just looked at his son, watching his body language, the way he curled in on himself and wouldn't look at him. "Do you want it?" he finally asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you want the job, Blaine? Because you can have it, but you have to want it. The rest of my staff is here because they want to be here. They want to report the news and do what they can to save the dying breed that is newspapers. I'll give you the job, but only if you want it."
Well, that was harder to answer than it sounded. "Yeah? I guess?" Blaine hedged.
"I want you to be sure."
A heavy sigh escaped Blaine's lips. This was what he'd been afraid would happen. His father would want a commitment, a way to know he was getting into the newspaper for the right reasons, and Blaine wasn't sure that he could give him that.
His gaze traced a line in the carpet for a moment as he thought about how he wanted to respond. It was in his best interest to be honest, but part of him just wanted to tell his father what he wanted to hear. After the last few months, since the day he'd moved back home, really, he'd heard in his tone and seen in his gaze how much his father believed he'd failed and given up. Blaine didn't blame him. He did, too. He was ready for his dad to finally be proud of him again, and if lying was what it took…
"Do you regret it, Dad?" he finally asked. "Do you regret that I went off to Loyola to study film instead of becoming a Wildcat in the middle of Illinois? Do you regret that I'm washed up at 26 with no career? Do you regret that I'm not like you, Dad, that I'm not going to be able to give you grandkids or a perfect daughter-in-law like Cooper can? Do you regret that I'm—"
"No. Those are not the regrets I have, Blaine," Joel said quietly. "I don't regret having you for a son, and I don't regret loving you exactly the way you are, whether you have a wife or a husband. That makes no difference to me as long as you're happy. What I regret, though, is letting you think that Loyola and movies and L.A. would make you happy. I regret standing by while you sacrificed your happiness for a dream, Blaine, a dream I had a feeling wasn't going to work out for you. At least, not yet."
Those words wounded him. They shouldn't, he told himself. They shouldn't hurt like that. Yet, they still did. His dad regretted letting him follow his dream? Was it so wrong to want something more than what the middle of the U.S. could give him? Was it so wrong for him to want to live where there were people who thought like him, did what he wanted to do with the rest of his life? Was it so bad to want to belong somewhere, to fit in, a hard thing to do in the middle of Ohio? Yet his dad's regret was that he let him follow his dream. Maybe… "Maybe I should have followed in your footsteps," he said quietly, looking up for the first time to meet his dad's gaze. "But I don't think that would have made me happy. I was happy in L.A., Dad. I truly was. There were just… I made some other wrong choices, and life wasn't happening in my favor." Then, he dropped his head again in defeat.
Not knowing exactly what to say to ease the pain in his son's eyes, Joel stayed quiet, watching him again. He felt like he should get up, pull his son into a hug, and promise him that things were going to get better, that he could look at the newspaper like a fresh start. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Something in him told him Blaine needed more than a hug, and he didn't know what else to offer. Maybe he needs to work this out on his own, Joel thought. So, he stayed put, waiting.
Eventually, Blaine looked up again, determination in his eyes. "So, what do I do? When do I start?"
"I have a new photographer coming on board this afternoon. If you go down to the HR office on Main and get all your paperwork done, I'll make the two of you a team. You can start this afternoon on a local story. They're building a new horse barn down at the fairgrounds to prep for next month's county fair. That's your first assignment once your paperwork is done."
"I'll head down there right now," Blaine replied, grabbing for the door handle. "Thanks, Dad. I'll be back as quick as I can be. Half an hour."