Resonance

Chapter Five

Waylon received his diploma with a hearty handshake then joined the ranks of the fellow students of his graduating class standing before the curtain of the Springfield University Auditorium. When the time came for him to deliver the valedictory speech, he stepped forth to the podium. The audience attended to him, and he spoke in a measured voice, his eyes directed to the crowd as a whole. As he went on hailing the virtues of Springfield University and painting a rosy picture of the prospects of the graduating class, though, his eyes kept shifting back to focus on his father. This was the first time they'd looked one another eye to eye since he had been expelled from the household.

Waylon tossed the index cards referencing his prepared remarks to the side and said, "But above all, it behooves us to remember that what ultimately lifts us up is not our success in the eyes of society, but our allegiance to family. The man who abandons his love for his family for the sake of his reputation is a scoundrel of the highest order, particularly when he maintains the facade of a loving father. My advice to us all: work hard, live true, and die free. Salutations." He walked off the stage, then left the auditorium altogether.

He walked briskly across the quad, hands in pocket, his posture stiff and slightly slanted. Once he'd made it halfway across, Clayton ran to catch him. "Waylon!" he shouted, and his brother turned his head. "Waylon, wait!" Waylon turned his head forward and walked more briskly away. "I wanted to thank you."

"For what? For getting father off your back by becoming the family's new black sheep?"

"No, no! Well, yes, actually."

"Why are you even talking to me? You made it clear you agreed with father that degenerates have no place in the Smithers family."

"But I know you're not degenerate."

"If I told you I were, though, you'd hate me as much as father does."

"I wouldn't!"

"Oh, really? Why should I believe that?"

"Because I'm the one who's degenerate!" He clasped his trembling hands over his mouth. "I mean..."

"Clayton? You?"

He brought his chin to his chest and failed to hold back the tears that streamed down his cheeks, his head bobbing slightly, his knees wobbling as if about to give way. "I tried, Waylon, honest to God, I tried! You don't know how hard I tried not to be this way, but I don't know how to change. I've tried so many times to end it, but I keep going back to him..."

"You found someone?" Clayton nodded. "It's Sterling, isn't it?" His lips strained, he nodded, this time with a deep sadness. "He's why you decided to stay in the city and take up that accounting course, isn't he?" With half a snort of amusement, he smiled and nodded.

"I hope you really meant what you said about allegiance to family."

"Of course I meant it." He hugged Clayton, patting his back over the shoulder blades. "You'll always be brother to me," he said, releasing him from the hug.

"I want to live true, I really do. It kills me that I can't."

"You should come with me to see Aunt Constance and Maybelle."

"I can't move out. If I got kicked out, I'd have no social standing, and people would look askance at Sterling and me spending time together. That's why I decided to go into accounting. I could get a respectable job, move out, and have a little privacy. If I were just some country bumpkin, what would Sterling ever want with me?"

"If he's smart, he'd want you regardless."

"But he couldn't take me to parties, introduce me to his friends, and such."

"You don't need to move out. Just visit with us. I have to go over there to pick up some of my things I left there, anyway."

"I'd like that. I'm meeting Sterling later, so I can't come tonight. How about I meet you at the park gate tomorrow at noon?"

"Great. I'll see you then."

"I really should get back to father now. I told him I left to use the john." He looked Waylon in the eye and said, "Gee, I – I can't tell you how much this means to me. You understanding my... situation."

"I love you, Clayton." He hugged him again. "It's good to see you."

The next day, noon came and passed as Waylon waited by the gate to Springfield Park, a newspaper held low and loose between his hands to appear more casual and less conspicuous. An hour passed, then another. It's probably nothing, he thought. Maybe he's just having fun with Sterling and forgot about our meeting. His rational self-reassurances notwithstanding, his stomach twisted itself in tempestuous knots. Something must be terribly wrong.

He went to the nearby police station to use their payphone and rang his father's number. After a few rings, his father answered. "Hello?"

"Dad."

Waylon could hear his father's frown as he said, "Oh. It's you."

"Is Clayton there?"

"No. He hasn't been home since last night."

"Has he said where he's been?"

"He said he was visiting at the Stanton estate."

"I thought so. Thank you." He hung up the phone, then picked it up again and dialed for the Stanton estate. It rang interminably, and he resignedly set the receiver down. "I guess something came up." As he trudged out of the station, he saw Clayton.

But his eyes didn't brighten.

He blinked to be sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. But no – there was Clayton, dragged up the stairs in handcuffs by two policemen, his face drained of its color. "Clayton! What the hell is going on?"

"Th-they caught me..."

"Doing what?"

He sniffled and said in a strained voice, "Sterling..."

"What are you doing stealing things like a common crook?"

"Not stealing! Sterling!"

Waylon's face froze as the horror of his brother being unjustly imprisoned overshadowed his relief that his brother's integrity was intact. "Good God! I swear I'll do everything in my power to get you out of this. Promise me you won't give up hope!"

Clayton's lips quavered as he said shakily, "I promise," and the officers led him away.

Once he had been processed and permitted visitors, Waylon approached the holding cell where his brother stood, fingers wrapped around iron bars just feet away from the town drunk who lay collapsed on his cot. "Don't fret too much. I'm sure it's only a fine."

He stared past Waylon and the walls, shaking his head slightly and slowly and saying in the same way, "It won't be just a fine."

"I know it looks grim, but we have to have hope –"

"Sterling told them I forced myself on him!"

Waylon gasped. "How could he...?"

"I really thought he loved me..." He lowered his head until his forehead hit the bars. "What a damn fool I was!"

Waylon reached through the bars, pried his fingers from the metal, and met his palm with his own. "It'll be okay."

"How? How is it ever going to be okay? My life is ruined!"

"I don't know how, but I know it."

"Really convincing coming from my brother, the atheist."

"Well, I wouldn't say that. I may not believe in any religion, but I haven't ruled out the possibility of some kind of higher presence. But anyway, the point is, I know you. I know you'll get through this." He tightened his grip of his brother's hand. "I'll see if Mr. Burns has any dirt on Sterling. If we unearth evidence that he's sought intercourse with other men before, it'll demolish his testimony against you."

"Even if you prove he wanted it, consensual sodomy is punishable by up to ten years. Ten years in prison! My God! I'm sunk."

"I won't let it happen. I refuse to believe the people of Springfield are so cruel and myopic as to let you languish in prison."

"Even if I'm acquitted, everyone knows about me now. I'll be a laughingstock for the rest of my life!"

He broke down crying, and Waylon hugged him through the bars. "It'll be all right, Clayton. You're my brother, and I'll be there for you, no matter what. I'll do whatever I can to save you."