Constructing Wilde

Part 4

"So... I can kick out certain tenants if I decide that they are troublesome, can I not?" inquired Frank's father.

"I... Well, I shouldn't take it that far, Father! Oscar and I did pay good money to buy the house."

"You mean you paid good money; money which, I might add, came from your allowance; and I give you the allowance." The smug look that Canon Miles was wont to wear appeared; such an odious look it was that it made Oscar feel downright sick.

"But..." objected Frank. "Oscar paid too..."

"As I recall, he paid about three pounds into the affair, and he is still paying you back with his meager earnings. I do not want you associating with him anymore, Frank, and you certainly will not take any more of the Devil's money from him."

"But... Father, I—"

"No, I have quite decided on the matter, Frank. Mr. Wilde, you have until tomorrow morning to vacate the premises. We are finished here." Dabbing his lips with a napkin, he rose, leaving behind a quarter of his meal, and walked haughtily out of the dining room.

Oscar turned on Frank the moment that Canon Miles left. "What the deuce is the matter with you? You just let him kick me out! Is it about the money that I haven't paid up yet? You know if he kicks me out I shan't be able to pay you back. I'll be obliged to pay for rent with my earnings..."

"No, no!" cried Frank; he wrung his hands, quite distraught. "You mustn't think that. It's not about the money at all."

"Then what?" blustered Oscar; he was quite solidly out of patience, and Frank was trying him just a little too much.

"Well, one simply doesn't cross my father..." equivocated Frank.

"We both know you could care less about flaunting your independence in his face so long as he's not around. So cut to the heart of the matter, Frank. What is the matter? Why are you agreeing to his demands? We are, last I checked, best friends; surely you don't intend to let your stuffy old father get in the way!"

"I do... I'm sorry, Oscar, but I simply can't cross him. He's already been inquisitive enough about my lifestyle and avid support of you. Let us say that I haven't been entirely discrete about certain proclivities of mine."

"You don't mean to say..." inquired Oscar; he felt quite horrified and, at the same time, fascinated by Frank's overt confession.

"I rather think I do..."

"But all the women you pay special attention to?"

"Oh, I don't mean to say I dislike women; not at all. It is simply that I am attracted to both... I did not lie to any of those women about my interest! But my father is entirely pig-headed about all matters of a sensual nature; if I didn't have to eventually marry, I should think he would make me celibate. Regardless, I should be quite ruined if he ever found out, and I mustn't give him a reason to investigate further about me and my activities on a regular basis. As I said, he's already entirely too suspicious of me, and I think he may suspect. I simply cannot risk my own future for yours, Oscar."

"Well! This is a fine turn of events!" hissed Oscar. "I have put my neck on the line for you in so many social situations where you made a blunder; I've gotten you out of dinners with your Aunt or other people you find irritating. I have done my absolute best to be the best sort of friend to you, Frank. And now you throw me out simply to save your own neck. Some loyal friend you've turned out to be!"

"Oscar, I'm begging you to—"

Oscar held up a hand. "Stop! I shan't hear another word from your treacherous lips, you vagabond." He stormed out of the room to go pack his meager belongings into a suitcase.

***

An hour later, Frank popped into his room with a sad smile; that in and of itself was strange; Frank was quite possibly the most jovial person Oscar knew. He felt a twinge of guilt for the briefest moment over rejecting Frank's attempts at reconciliation. Then he shoved it off; Frank deserved it, and the pain was far too fresh to ignore the betrayal in favor of forgiveness.

"Oscar, please... Don't leave mad at me."

"I shall do as I please, Mr. Miles."

Frank's expression became hurt and angered. "Now, see here! You are being entirely unreasonable, Oscar."

"It's Mr. Wilde to you," snapped Oscar, tossing a shirt carelessly into his bag.

"It is one thing to save each other from social blunders; it is quite another to risk ruination for one another!" hissed Frank, throwing up his hands. "You are being ridiculous; I demand that you stop and see reason."

"For heavens' sake, Mr. Miles! Not everything is about you," shouted Oscar; he felt quite invigorated by letting out the words he'd been holding in. For good measure, he threw the coat he'd been holding at Frank.

Frank didn't move fast enough and got hit in the face with it. Blustering, he picked up the coat and slapped it down on the bed. "That is quite enough; you are behaving like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum."

"And you are no friend of mine!" yelled Oscar. "Because a friend would support me instead of throwing me to the wolves without a second thought."

"This is hard on me too!" screamed Frank; he had finally had it with Oscar's bull-headed obstinacy. "Do you think I take this lightly?"

"No, I do not!" snapped Oscar, snatching a pair of shoes from the closet. "I think," huffed he. "That you are choosing your current lover of the male persuasion over me; me, your best friend for years. And I simply cannot overlook that betrayal. So goodbye, Mr. Miles."

He slammed the shoes into his suitcase; latching it, he proceeded to shove past Frank into the hall. His suitcase snagged on the doorframe and burst open, spilling its contents all over the floor. Angrily, he turned on it and started shoving things back into it.

Frank leaned over and tried to help; perhaps he thought, for some unfathomably foolish reason, that he could somehow reconcile the situation to Oscar by helping. It certainly did not have that effect. Oscar slammed the suitcase on his fingers, forcing him to jump back, clutching his injured hand. Forcing all of his clothing back into the suitcase, Oscar snapped it closed and marched down the hall to the front door. "Do not try to contact me, and do not bother apologizing," he shouted as he stormed out of the front door and slammed it shut.