WHO: Hugh Christian & NPC!Isaac Blumenkrantz (with appearances by NPC! Mrs. Halliday. WHEN: Wednesday, September 5, around 11am. WHERE: Isaac Blumenkrantz's Bellevue Office. SUMMARY: Hugh stops by Isaac's office with the intention of giving him some life updates and he ends up making some decisions. WARNINGS: Poor family relationships, unhealthy self-talk, and mild emotional manipulation. Use of present tense.
"Jeremiah, is that you? It's been years since I've seen you here."
"Hello Mrs Halliday, I mostly go by Hugh these days. But it's good to see you, you're looking fabulous as ever."
"Psh, I'm an old lady, Hugh Blumenkrantz. You're too kind.
"Nonsense, I only tell the truth. Is my dad available?"
"He had an appointment at 10, let me see. … He might be." The phone is picked up. "Isaac, Hugh is here. Would you have a few moments? … No, Hugh Blumenkrantz, your son." The phone clicks. "He says go on in."
"I don't suppose you're here because you're looking for a job in software suddenly."
"What do you think, Dad?"
"That you're still bound and determined to be famous and pretty."
"Something like that." Hugh falters, his eyes switching to the large glass windows lining the side of the office, downtown Bellevue visible through them. He'll ignore the implication that what he does takes no work and no dedication, because if he starts he's never going to get through. "I just had a few things I wanted to talk to you about."
"You couldn't have called for a lunch appointment?"
That belief that he's disrupting something far more important bubbles up. Hugh swallows. "If you'd prefer I can do that." He should have probably. Both of these things are the sort of things that should be told over lunch. Despite best intentions, the excuse slides to the surface: "I just was driving through, and I had a couple of things I wanted to tell you sooner rather than later, b-"
"It's fine. I have this hour free. Sit. There's seltzer water in the refrigerator."
"I'm fine," Hugh replies automatically as he sits in the large chair wishing his dad would join him instead of sitting behind his desk - a visible wall: they already have so many invisible ones.
"I just wanted to tell you that I've proposed to Marceline, and she said yes. We're engaged."
Over the years, he's been trained to expect very little from these sorts of announcements. The thing that thrills him to his soul, the accomplishment he's worked tirelessly for, the small thing he hopes will make his father proud of him - it never works that way. Nonetheless, the disappointment in the face of his father's silence is palpable.
Finally: "Your mother didn't mention it."
"No, I specifically asked her not to if she saw you this weekend, because I wanted to tell you myself."
"Congratulations then, Jeremiah. I hope you'll always be happy with her."
"I hope so too." There's a pause, Hugh looks up to see his father's cocked eyebrow.
"No - 'of course I will be!'?"
Hugh wishes that he'd gotten the spritzer water cause then he'd have something to do with his hands, and he can't smoke in his father's office, so he reaches for the ring on one of his fingers, twisting it. "I believe I will be," he said finally. "She makes me so happy right now, and I hope that never changes, but I know people are human. I don't expect her to always make me happy, but I expect that we'll have a good life, and I want to have that life with her."
The silence feels deafening, it's what being dismissed feels like. Hugh stifles a sigh.
"That's wise. If she feels the same, you two might have a chance of making it."
Perhaps he dreamed the words. They weren't really spoken, but only in his mind, the hope of paternal recognition so strong that he's brought them to life, but when he looks up from the toes of his shoes his father is staring right at him and he knows they were spoken aloud. He moistens his lips. "Um, thanks."
And then quickly, before he can really overthink asking the question. "You saw mom this weekend."
"I did, yes."
"Good."
"She said you've been getting to know Henry March."
It feels like a trap, but there's nothing for it. "I have."
"You get along with him."
It feels like reading for an unknown role without any emotional direction. What is he supposed to be saying or feeling or doing in order to get that part? He has no clue, so he answers briefly: "So far, yes."
Isaac exhales and stands, turning for the window.
"Jeremiah, I know we've had our differences over the years, but I've tried to support you-" "You ha-" "And I've tried to be a good father to you. If you and Henry get along, then I hope you'll have a good relationship with him."
"Dad-"
"We both know that's a lie."
"No, it's not." Firmly. Hugh stands and crosses the distance between them. Despite recognizing the truth of it, he's still looking down at his father, trying to pull together the pieces of how he feels about Isaac and Henry both, what fatherhood means where each of them is concerned - something that forms a full picture, but it's hard, so he defaults, anxiety pulsing under the question: "Are you and mom okay?"
"She says she hasn't been seeing him."
"He has someone else he's seeing currently, presumably monogamously."
There's a snort from Isaac on this, but something in his face softens. "Your mother made a decision many years ago and we both suspected the truth of it, if I was going to begrudge her that indiscretion I would have left long before now." He turns away. "She said she's coming home in a few weeks."
His parents have always been so incredibly different from each other. His entire life, he's been the source of conflict between them. But he's never doubted their love for each other. They didn't always make each other happy. But perhaps that wasn't the whole point. Hugh exhales, relief doesn't quite form a smile, but it can be heard in the brief word: "Good."
Isaac turns to look back at him, and the edges of a smile touch his face. "You said you had a couple of things."
"Oh." Yes. The other thing. He pulls in a breath: "I'm legally changing my name."
"Ah."
The explanations tumble fourth, despite that he hates feeling the need to make them. "It'll make everything easier with work and before I get married it made sense to get it done."
Isaac's hand comes up as if to stop him: "I suppose that's what you've always wanted, isn't it Hugh?" The resignation in Isaac's voice stings, but not as badly as the follow-up barb. "You say I'm your father, but you'll drop the only thing I really gave you."
"No." Were it anyone else he'd reach over, grab his father's shoulder, or hand, and try to handle the conversation with some aspect of physicality attached. But this is his Dad, and that's never been allowed. "No, that's not - I mean, I am dropping Blumenkrantz. But I'm- It'll be Hugh Jeremiah Christian."
He hadn't decided until that moment. There'd been a debate about whether he'd keep Jeremiah at all, he'd always hated it. Some question about whether he should even mess with a middle name or perhaps ask to put his biological father's last name in its stead. Hugh March Christian. But suddenly it was obvious - not just what it should be, but why.
"I'll still be Jeremiah."
In the silence that follows, explanation bubbles up with a need to make the discomfort of the moment easier with words or activity, but Hugh swallows them down past the lump in his throat.
He's spent his entire life trying to earn his father's affection, and it turned out he was looking in the wrong place. Some part of him understands that he could walk out now, and rarely see Isaac. That would be easier, by far, than asking for space in Isaac's life. He's never felt wanted by his father, never believed he made Isaac proud, and when he thinks of his father, all he feels is shame and disappointment. He knows Marce doesn't think well of Isaac, and perhaps that's partially his fault. Especially as he recognizes now that it was more complicated than he ever understood. But if he leaves, he's no longer the source of conflict between his parents, he's simply the gap in his family-- like the empty space on a shelf where a book once sat. He's spent his life living in the margins of his parents choices, but if he leaves, that's his choice and he owns the space left behind. There's a heartbeat of a memory from a month ago, Isaac taking him to coffee, no questions asked. It's not true that the name is the only thing Isaac's given him.
Hugh takes a breath.
"I should have asked if you want to get an early lunch with me, before now I mean. But we still could? If you have time. I - you could tell me what's been happening with business?"
Isaac turns to look at Hugh, there's several heartbeats, then his father picks up the phone: "Mrs. Halliday, call and cancel my lunch appointment please. I will be back for my one o'clock."