After this interview, I spend a few days on the redaction of my article and I prepare my interview with Hayley Williams. I also try to get to know my new colleagues.
"Trohman, are you available? You're supposed to validate my notes, right?" I ask the curly-haired man with shoulder straps. His blue eyes look up at me from the document that he was looking at and he rubs his nose, a little upset.
"Nope, not me. I already have to edit yesterday's articles," he informs me while struggling with a mount of papers. He must be a little sloppy in his work. Mr. Weekes has refused his article twice.
"Alright. I'm going to go see Mr. Weekes," I mutter and enter my boss' office after knocking. "I've written my article about the Welkin Tower, Mr. Weekes. Can you please validate it?"
I hand him the sheets of paper. He hums as he reads it quickly, bringing his big cigar to his lips with his free hand.
"Hmm, you tackled the matter through a debate between two parties, without sensationalism or shallowness. That's a good article. Excellent," he analyzes out loud, his eyes on the paper.
Wow, the director of the Sunday News was never satisfied with my writing style, because it wasn't trendy and easy to read. I wasn't expecting Mr. Weekes to approve it!
"Once you're done with your modifications, I will proofread it and then we can publish it." Mr. Weekes seems very satisfied.
"Yes Sir! I'm doing that right away, Sir."
"How are you doing regarding the interview with Hayley Williams?"
"Everything is in order, boss. Why, is there a problem?" I ask.
"There has been changes in Ms. Williams' schedule. It is possible that you have to interview her tomorrow. It shouldn't be a problem for you if everything is in order, though."
I rub my chin a little. "I think. Yeah, it will be okay."
"Good. Get some rest and put on some nice clothes, tomorrow. I hope to get another excellent article from you, Way." Mr. Weekes smiles at me and dismisses me.
My first articled was approved, and the interview was moved up to tomorrow. It wasn't all that easy to get in, but that's a good start in the journal.
"Gerard, what's up?" Fuentes, a young man with longish, brown hair and swarthy skin pounces on me. He is the only intern of the journal.
"I'm going to interview Ms. Williams tomorrow," I answer.
"The aviator who flew across the Gulf of Mexico all by herself? Whoa! You'll be able to meet her in person!"
As Fuentes is chatting, Trohman glances at him severely. It must be a bit difficult to work in these conditions.
"I'm going to go home early to get rest and prepare tomorrow's interview," I announce.
The next day, I get up early to finish preparing myself and the interview. I want to wear something quite fancy, but I'm clearly not rolling on money and don't have many clothes. The tuxedo I wore during the gala is definitely too much, and it brings up bad memories anyway.
In the end, I decide to keep the nice pants, waistcoat and the shirt, I drop the bowtie and the jacket, and put on my green jacket instead. I take a taxi and arrive at Hayley Williams' house. The manor is located in a beautiful, fancy suburb of Long Island.
I follow the butler through the courtyard to the hall where he tells me to wait for Ms. Williams. The parquet floor is made of a dark wood. A crystal chandelier hangs from the high ceiling and shelves embedded in the clear, gold-decorated walls put on display all sorts of items – books by dozens, magnifying glass, map, compass, globe, small statues.
"Thank you for waiting, mister journalist," I hear a feminine voice echo in the very wide room. A woman about my age steps down the central stairs.
She is wearing an aviator jacket and boots the same color, an elegant little scarf, and under that a white shirt. Her short, strawberry blonde hair is styled with soft curls. What strikes me the most is that she is wearing pants, striped pants. A woman wearing pants is not something you see often, to say the least.
"Nice to meet you, my name is Gerard Way, for the Gotham News." We shake hands.
I got a glimpse of her from a far a couple of times, back in college. She is as merry and confident as she used to, it seems. But she looks so much more mature, now. My thought start wandering in my memories of my years in university.
Hayley Williams studied mechanic engineering at Harvard. She was a brilliant and popular student on campus. She dropped after her first year to learn how to fly. I remember thinking at the time that only a true flight-lover would have the courage to do that. I admire her, she followed her dreams. I didn't think of her after she left, until she flew across the Gulf of Mexico all at once.
"Here I am, Mr. Way. We can begin the interview."
"A-alright, Ms. Williams. Let's- let us begin. Let's go," I stammer against my will. Ms. Williams smiles at me gently.
"No need to be nervous, Mr. Way. I don't bite." She chuckles. She is so poised, and I'm so... I must act just like a journalist. Deep breaths.
"Ms. Williams, I am sure that you were asked this before, but can you tell us again what made you want to become a pilot?" I ask.
"I've always been passionate about flying, but the turning point, I think, was when I heard about Calbraith Rodgers' transcontinental flight, in 1911. He inspired me for learning how to fly. But, as you know, girls are not really encouraged to become pilots. I had to face multiple obstacles. It gave me the strength to face adversity. I dropped out and trained for two years. You know the rest," Ms. Williams told.
I hum and scratch the paper with my pencil. "Have you heard of Mr. Lindbergh's plans of flying across the Atlantic?"
Ms. Williams nods. "Of course! That would be impressive if he managed to do that. I wish to accomplish such an exploit as well, at least as the first woman in the world. I am well-aware of the path I am opening. I consider it my responsibility."
"You flew for nearly 15 hours, from Miami to Mexico. The training must have been hard," I react. "Did you ever think about giving up? Did you ever want to?"
"I believe the challenge was how physical flying is, today still. It requires quite some strength to control the engine, it shakes a lot. I had to work out every day and go through a formation to learn how to resist the pressure. I was vomiting from that exercise, especially at the beginning. It was all very tedious and when I was vomiting, I thought to myself : 'why are you doing this to yourself? Just stop, no one is making you'. But all of that was worth it, and I realized that the second I got on a plane that flew up in the sky."
"I see." I write down every word. It's truly fascinating. "But pure passion isn't the only factor that contributed to your success, is it?"
Ms. Williams shook her head. "I couldn't have gotten as far without my family's support."
I hum. "But flying is mostly a... man's thing. Did your family support you from the start anyway?"
A bright smile appears on her face. "Absolutely. I was introduced to my first flight instructor by no other than my father. I was determined to achieve my dreams, my father understood it, and he even encouraged me to not let myself be limited by my gender, ever."
If I am not mistaken, her father is the very much respected Counselor Christopher Williams.
"Thank you, Ms. Williams. To conclude, do you have something to tell the women of the world?"
Ms. Williams starts thinking profoundly. "Hum. Women have been fighting for a very long time for equity. We finally have the right to vote, but that is only the beginning. We must keep working together, let society hear our voices and realize that there is nothing that women can't do."
It's rare that someone is so aware of gender inequalities. I give her a knowing smile.
"Well said, Ms. Williams! I couldn't agree more."
Ms. Williams' eyebrows rise and she smiles back. "Oh, it's the first time that I meet a journalist expressing an opinion during an interview, especially in favor of the rights of women."
I look down to hide my smile. "Well, this was the last question. Thank you for this interview. I... I wanted to interview you since Harvard. At last, I made that wish come true."
"Oh, you went to Harvard too?"
"Yes, I was two grades lower than you, in journalism."
"Here is your coffee, Miss Williams," a maid said quietly, handing a cup of tea to the pilot.
"Thank you, Maria. Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Way?" Ms. Williams asks me. The interview is over, but I can't refuse an invitation from Hayley Williams. I nod.
"Did you know that Harvard will soon celebrate its 290th anniversary? I hope to see you at the alumni dance." She grins.
The anniversary? I completely forgot. But someone like me probably won't get invited. I don't even have the means to afford a nice suit. I could still wear the one I wore at the gala.
"To be fair... I am not planning on going to the ball," I confess.
"What a shame. I wanted to introduce to someone. He would be a great candidate."
"A great candidate?" I tilt my head a little. "May I ask who it is?"
Ms. Williams smiled maliciously. "For now, I can only tell you that he will become the scourge of the mafia and all the corrupted officials of New York."
Ah yes, the mafia. It's become a real problem around here. When it comes to corruption and organized crime, the first place I think of is Chicago. Staff members work with the mafia to rig the elections.
"Mafia and officials, huh? I hope that New York won't become the mirror of Chicago."
"Hm." Ms. Williams frowns. "The mafia of Chicago is so powerful that it can truly influence the government. If the mafia can be fought, maybe governmental corruption will end up disappearing too."
"You're right. These criminals are willing to do anything to make the governments do things their way. If they can't deal with problems with money, they will resort to violence. With that kind of harassment, a few mafia-induced policies will always manage to be put in place."
"I see you've been thinking about that too!" Ms. Williams gives me a thumb up. "Thanks to your perceptiveness, you shouldn't have any problem to obtain an interview with my friend. So, did I convince you to attend the ball? If the invitation is what concerns you, don't worry about it, Mr. Way. I will make sure that you are sent one."
I'm wondering who that friend of hers might be. I should go.
"You did, Ms. Williams. I will be there," I promise.
"Perfect! The invitation we are given is for two, don't forget to come accompanied."
Accompanied? Can't I go alone?
"Why the pout?" Ms. Williams smiled amusedly at my distraught expression. "A charming man like you surely won't have any problem finding someone. I can introduce you to some of my friends, there will be lots of lovely girls at the ball. Or you can simply go with a friend!"
"I... Thank you, it's okay. I'll find someone."
She and I say our goodbyes and I rush home to the headquarters of the Gotham News to write up my notes of today's interview. I decide that I would go to the ball with a friend. My heart doesn't belong to anyone anyway.
"A ball? Sorry, I have to work late tomorrow night. I have nothing to wear for the occasion anyway," Fuentes tells me. "Why not ask Trohman or Urie? Or maybe Mr. Weekes?"
"But, I'm not close to anyone but you..." I mutter sadly.
"Did anyone say that he isn't close to me?" I hear a voice behind me.
"Hey, Urie. Gerard is feeling depressed because he can't find anyone to accompany him to his ball. I'm very busy, so I'll leave him to you." Fuentes leaves, a pile of files in hands.
"What is the event, Gerard?" Urie asks me with his usual sly smirk. It's both irritating and... attaching.
"A ball of former students to celebrate the 290th anniversary of Harvard," I answer.
"Do you know who is the man standing in front of you?" Urie gestured at himself. "The king of balls in New York. Whether it's a small family meeting or a gala in the White House, I can take care of anything."
I frown confusedly. "How is that related to me? I never said that I was inviting you."
Urie sighed, opening his arms dramatically. "Who would you invite then? Mr. Weekes?"
I give it a quick thought. I can only consider Mr. Weekes as my boss. Besides, he is so serious all the time... Urie might be unsufferable, but I don't have much of a choice.
"Alright. I'm counting on you, Urie."
Urie beams at me. "Don't worry about anything. I will make you the most glamorous man of the ball."
I'm going to regret this.
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