Before There Was You, There Was You

Chapter 1

“What’s gone and what’s past help, should be past grief.” The Winter’s Tale – William Shakespeare

*****

Michael walked into the diner and shook the freshly fallen snow from his shoulders. It was unusually cold for October and a bit early for snow, but somehow this sudden change in weather seemed fitting. He looked over at his mother, who was clearing the table of an empty booth at the far end. The diner was quiet, the early breakfast crowd thinning as the work day began. Normally, Michael would be at the shop by now, but not today. Today he’d be late opening the Red Cape. If things didn’t go well, the store might be closed for the entire day.

“Hey, Honey, shouldn’t you be at your store?” Debbie, his mother, looked over at him with a smile, her arms piled high with dirty dishes. He smiled back at her, trying to appear calm, normal, but knowing she wasn't going to buy it.

He loved his mother more than anything, and he knew she loved him unconditionally. She had sacrificed, and would continue to sacrifice, anything (and everything) for him. Yes, she was loud; yes, she was outrageous; and yes, she had him blushing with embarrassment in public on more than one occasion. But he could not imagine his world without her.

Growing up, during those early years, it was just the two of them. When he was feeling sad or hurt she always managed to make him feel better. Michael wasn’t popular in school and he got picked on a lot. His grades suffered and his self-esteem was almost non-existent. The only one he could turn to for comfort was his mother. She was his friend, his confidant, his everything. Then Brian came into his life and everything changed.

Brian moved to Pittsburgh from New York when he was just 14. Debbie had known from the moment Michael brought home the beautiful, hazel-eyed young man that he was “trouble,” to use her words. She also knew that from that day forward she would have to share Michael with Brian.

Debbie loved Brian like a son. She was there for him during a time when things were very bad for him. But the real truth of it was that she had no choice. She knew her little boy would never let Brian go, and in her attempt to keep Michael from running off with him – oh, and there was a time he really wanted to – she would have to take Brian in as one of her own. What she didn’t know was what made Brian so special to Michael. He knew it still confused her.

In time, though, she did grow to love Brian, and probably to resent him a little, too. But 17 years was a long time. A lifetime, in fact. But they all adjusted well.

It took Michael almost all of that time to sort out his feelings for Brian. His love for him was deep, but he understood it more fully now. For the longest time he mistook it for romantic love. The kind of love you read about in dime store novels. Michael chalked that up to the dreamer in him. In truth, their love for each other was that of close brothers. Michael was often heard saying how Brian was “like” a brother to him. And he knew Brian felt and said the same. But no one would ever understand how deep their brotherly bond was. It was a bond that came out of a shared, traumatic experience – an experience so profound for Michael that his attachment to Brian afterwards was almost desperate. It was no wonder he was so confused about his feelings for Brian for so long. An experience like that changed a person. He had never told his mother about the experience – or anyone else for that matter. A promise had been made 17 years ago. A deed was done. A time long gone.

“Hello!? Michael, honey, where are you?” His mother’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, as she came out of the kitchen having dumped her load of dishes.

He walked over to her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Smack!  She playfully slapped him upside his head, the dirty dishes now gone from her arms. Michael rolled his eyes at her.

“Ma, don’t start,” Michael chided as his eyes skimmed the diner looking for signs of Justin. “Justin off to school?

“Yeah. That kid’s got more energy than an Eveready battery!” She sighed dramatically before she continued. “Poor Sunshine. Between working here, school and dealing with the almighty Mr. Kinney,” she said the name like it left a bad taste in her mouth, “I don’t know how he does it. Well, at least now he’s with someone who can love him the way he deserves to be loved.”

Michael opened his mouth to defend Brian – it was an automatic reaction on his part – but he quickly shut it, realizing he had no time to get into this debate. Brian would be here any minute. Besides, she knew as well as he did that there would never be an end to Justin and Brian. Those two, by some cosmic reasoning he couldn’t understand, were destined to be together.

He was hoping Justin wouldn’t be here at this hour. It’s why he had asked to meet Brian so late in the morning. He didn’t know how Brian would react to his news, but he knew one thing for sure: Brian was too proud to show his vulnerability in front of anyone, especially Justin.

“We’re not getting into this today, Ma, ok?”

“Fine, then tell me what the hell you’re doing here. Why aren’t you at the store? Is something wrong?”

Here it comes.

“Listen, Ma, there’s something important I have to talk to Brian about. I called him at his office – he’s coming here to meet me.”

She snorted her disgust.

“Why am I not surprised?” she all but sneered. “It’s always about Brian! What’s going on, Michael? And don’t give me any bullshit!” She leaned in and stared directly into his eyes.

He sighed and held her stare for a long moment before he answered. “I can’t tell you, Ma,” he said, holding his hand up to stop her before she started in on him again. “Please, Ma, this is between Brian and me. And I’m not asking you, I’m telling you to butt out.”

She stepped back a bit, holding his eyes with hers. She was startled by his bluntness. It wasn't that they hadn't had screaming matches before. Like when he first started seeing Ben and she told him she didn’t want him seeing “that guy.” He made it clear that he didn’t care what she wanted; he was going to see Ben. That was a pretty emotional conversation. But this was different. This was no belligerent child standing in front of her. At this moment he was not a son needing approval or permission from his mother. He was a man, telling her quietly, and quite sincerely, that she could not interfere or be informed of what was going on in his life at that moment. And there was to be no debate about it.

“If this is going to be a problem for you, we can meet somewhere else,” he continued, making sure she understood the seriousness of his position.

It took her a minute to answer, and in that time Michael saw respect in her eyes and then acceptance.

“Ok, honey. I won’t pry. But you do know I’m here for you,” she hesitated, before adding, “for anything” – emphasizing the word “anything.”

He nodded and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before heading over to the booth at the far end of the diner to wait. His mother went about her business, but every now and then she stole a worried glance in his direction.

Michael slid into the booth and removed his jacket, which was too lightweight for such a cold day. He shivered as he rubbed his arms. ‘God, it’s colder in here than it was outside,’ he thought. Or maybe the cold was coming from within him and had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. He couldn't decide. He reached over and put his hand inside the pocket of the jacket he had just discarded and pulled out the letter.

When the man came to his door at 6 a.m. this morning and handed the letter to Michael he knew. He recognized him instantly. Funny, Brian was like that – couldn't remember names for shit, but he never forgot a face. And the face at Michael’s door that morning was all too familiar. He had seen it twice a year for almost 10 years. Well, not including the time Brian was in college. Then he saw it only once a year: in June when Brian was home from school. June and January. That’s when “he” – the man whose face Michael would never forget – would come with her letters.

The man would suddenly appear out of nowhere to make his delivery. And it was always in a place where no one could see the exchange of letters. There would be one letter for Brian and one for Michael. Brian carried both their letters to her on him at all times during those two months, ready for when the man would arrive. Michael was usually with Brian when the man showed up. Hell, he was always with Brian. Michael smiled sadly to himself at that memory. God, how he depended on Brian back then – still depended on him.

Michael’s letters to her were mostly short and sweet. His letters read like a greeting card: “Hope all is well, miss you, can’t wait to see you again,” yada, yada. Why tell her more? Brian wrote pages and pages telling her all about their lives and the people in them. Anything Michael wrote would have only been redundant. The letters she wrote to him, on the other hand, were always more exciting than the ones he wrote her. She wrote about her travels, her aunt, what she was learning, all the exciting adventures she was having. Michael loved hearing from her. She sounded so happy and had a colorful way of describing all the places and people she’d experienced. It was almost as if all that had happened before she left was just a bad dream. Almost. Then one day the letters stopped coming.

It was the year Brian turned 24. That was a rough year for Brian. June passed, with no letter. At first Brian ignored it. Michael thought perhaps she just stopped writing to him. After all, she was closer to Brian. One night, as they were leaving Babylon, Michael asked Brian if he had heard from her.

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey,” he slurred, giving Michael that sexy lopsided grin of his as he threw an arm around his shoulder. “It’s been 10 years. She has a fucking life. You should try getting one,” he said, stumbling back a bit as he tried to light a cigarette.

Michael pushed at him, half angrily. “So what are you saying? After 10 years she just stops writing? Just like that? Doesn’t sound like her.”

That got Brian's attention. He straightened up and sobered up a bit. “She’ll write. She’s very busy with school.” He paused, then added, “We’ll be fucking drowning in all that bullshit she writes come January.” He hugged Michael and kissed him on the mouth.

End of that conversation.

But then January came and went and still there was no letter. Brian had no idea where she was. That was the condition: no contact, no phone numbers, no addresses, nothing that could lead anyone to where she was. It was too dangerous. Even in her letters she was careful not to give out too much information. Michael didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t even imagine what was going through Brian’s mind. He refused to talk to Michael.

Brian went into what Michael later dubbed as his “pain management” mode. Every night for months he literally drank, drugged and fucked until he passed out. Michael was still amazed at how Brian kept it together at work during that time. He managed to hide his pain from everyone. It was easy to hide in a bottle of Jim Beam. Michael watched helplessly as Brian’s pain management started spiraling out of control. He was reverting back to…Michael shook his head, clearing his mind of those thoughts. Some memories were just too painful.

Lindsay noticed a change in Brian that year as well. She had always been in love with Brian, and in Michael’s opinion she was still in love with Brian.

Michael snorted, a little too loud he assumed, because his mother's head snapped in his direction. He quickly hid the letter under the table and smiled at her.

“Hey, Ma, can you get me some coffee please?”

“No problem, Sweetie,” she said cheerily.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief.  That was close. Fucking Lindsay. He wondered what part of Brian being gay did she still not get. Talk about dreamers. But she was, and still is, in tune with Brian’s moods and noticed when his behavior changed. Of course, Brian never discussed it with her, and Michael would never dare speak of it to anyone. Ever. But it didn’t matter. Just at the point when Michael feared Brian was going to totally lose it, something happened.

Two months after a year had passed with no letter, Brian told Michael he had been contacted. He was told she was fine, but she wouldn’t be writing anymore. And that was it. If Brian knew why – and Michael suspected he did know – he wasn’t going to share it with Michael. That hurt. Still hurt him. After what they went through together, the pain, the secrets …. Well, no use thinking about it now. He would have to be more careful. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. Not only did he not want his mother knowing about any of this, but he had to keep it together for Brian.

Of all the fucking times for her to start writing again! Hell, it had been over six years! Brian was not in a good place at the moment to deal with this (shit. What…shit, what with Justin leaving him for that fucking fiddler and Mel giving him shit about seeing his kid. Add to that the huge risk he was taking in starting his own agency – this was the last thing he needed! Michael stopped to breathe, calming himself. He had to get his emotions under control. Being Italian and gay was a lethal combination in the “drama queen” department.

His mother brought him the coffee and for once didn't say a word. She turned and headed back towards the kitchen as Michael put the letter back in his pocket and took a sip of the coffee. The diner door swung open and he felt a gust of cold air wash over him. God it must be really bad out for the wind to hit me all the way in the back of the diner, he thought, shivering. He placed the cup on the table and looked up to see Brian walk through the door. Michael could tell by his expression that he wasn't happy. Brian walked towards Michael and stopped in front of the booth. It seemed that someone watched the weather channel before dressing this morning, Michael noticed. Brian was wearing his black wool Armani coat. Always prepared. He looked as fucking gorgeous as ever – as if Brian fucking Kinney could look any other way, no matter what bullshit was going on in his life.

He looked down at Michael sharply.

“Mikey, this better be good. I got a bitch of a day ahead of me. I have four very important meetings lined up, one starting in less than an hour.” He paused to look at his Swiss Jaeger-LeCoultre watch for effect. Ever the label queen. He let out a deep “I can’t believe you're wasting my time” sigh and continued on his rant.

“Cynthia’s got her pantyhose in a knot over a new hire in the art department. Ted’s on my back about fucking insurance forms for Kinnetik, and I have a hangover from last night, which I wouldn’t mind so much if I could remember how the fuck I got it and whether or not it was worth it.” He looked at Michael, shooting him his most threatening glare. Of course it was wasted on his best friend.

“So do you want to tell me why the fuck I'm standing here instead of in my office preparing a pitch that will make my clients cum in their pants just from the sheer brilliance of it – well that and from being subjected to my natural sexual magnetism?” He smirked at that last part.

After that list of complaints, Michael wasn’t so sure he should share this latest development with him, but he had no choice. The longer he put it off, the more pissed Brian would be.

Michael decided to just give him the letter without any preliminaries. He grabbed his jacket and reached into his pocket to pull out the envelope. He turned to Brian, hesitantly offering him the envelope. Michael watched as Brian stared at his hand. For a moment, just a brief moment, Michael saw a look of shock wash over his face, and just as quickly it was gone. But it was there, and Michael caught it right before Brian slipped on his mask of indifference, the one he used when he was feeling most vulnerable. Michael stared at him, truly amazed at how he’d perfected that look. But Michael knew what the look meant. Brian was feeling some strong emotions over this new development.

“Brian,” Michael struggled to keep his own emotions in check, “your sister wants to come home.”

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