FAST FORWARD

Part 1: Stranger Things Have Happened



 

Thursday, October 9, 2003

Justin

“You did what? And you didn’t even talk to me about it?”

“Justin,” Brian sighs as he shoulders his leather suit bag and heads for the door, “Don’t start anything now, wait till I get home, can you do that?”

I follow him across the loft and say, “Yeah, I can wait, that’s what I’m famous for, waiting for you to talk to me. I understand your priorities, nobody knows better than me that work comes first.”

He stops and turns around, shakes his head. “Sometimes work does come first, that’s life. I’ve got a plane to catch, call me in the car if you want to continue this conversation.”

“What conversation? You just announce that you’ve bought the apartment and then it’s ‘good-bye, Justin,’ and I’m not supposed to have anything to say about it?”

Pulling open the door, Brian throws over his shoulder, “You can say anything you want, just wait till I’m in the car, then call me. Good-bye, Justin.”

I can’t say good-bye, instead I watch him disappear down the stairs, he doesn’t even turn when he reaches the landing, just keeps on moving. I want to slam the door, a heavy metal door makes a satisfying sound when it’s slammed, but that will only prove to him that I’m a child having a tantrum and give him more excuse to treat me like one.

Instead I close the door normally and head back to the bedroom to hang up my jacket and change my clothes. I’m pulling an extra shift tonight at Borders, Brian could have dropped me off on the way to the airport but he gave me no time to tell him that, he was moving too fast. As he usually does. He went ahead and bought the apartment on the second floor, I only heard yesterday that it was up for sale and now he casually announces, as he heads out the door for the airport, that he’s bought the place.

The phone rings and I’m tempted to ignore it, but again I realize that that would be childish so I pick it up. “Yeah?”

“So talk.”

“No time, Brian, I’m on my way to work.”

“It’s Thursday,” he tells me, as if I can’t keep track of the days of the week, “You don’t work tonight.”

“Jake’s on vacation, I’m taking his shift.”

“You should have told me, I could have dropped you off.”

When I don’t answer, Brian says, “I told you to keep the Accord. You need a fucking car.”

Brian had wanted to renew the lease on the car he’d let me use after our accident but I refused. I can’t be an equal partner financially in our relationship right now but I also can’t keep letting him take care of everything for me. “I’ll take the bus,” I tell him.

“I hate you taking the fucking bus. You’re always meeting weirdos.”

“No I’m not.”

I hear his exasperated sigh. I let him hear my exasperated sigh, then there’s silence for a moment. I’m cradling the phone on my shoulder as I pull on my khakis and button them up.

Brian breaks the silence at last. “So tell me why you care that I bought the apartment.”

“I don’t care,” I tell him, “I mean, I do care, but I don’t care.”

“Ah, now I see.”

“Brian, I mean, I care that you didn’t talk to me about it, that’s all.”

“So what’s to talk about? It’s an investment. I didn’t consult you about dumping my Transamerica stock, did I? Should I have asked you about that too?”

“I didn’t say fucking ask me, I said fucking discuss it with me. That’s all.”

“Justin.”

I wait, digging through my underwear drawer trying to find two socks that match.

“Justin, I’ll discuss it with you when I get home. Okay? Can you just say okay and tell me to have a good trip?”

“What’s to discuss, you already bought the fucking apartment. Have a good trip Brian. ‘Bye.”

I click off before I say something else pointless and stupid. Like ‘I love you, you fucking asshole, but sometimes I want to push you down the stairs.’



Brian

Fucked up again Kinney, didn’t you?

We’ve been doing this committed-relationship-thing for a year now and I still don’t know the rules. I don’t understand why Justin expected me to talk to him about buying the apartment. He knows, or anyway I think he knows, that I want to own my building someday, so naturally when an apartment comes on the market, I’m going to snap it up. Why would I wait to discuss it with him? It’s my money after all.

Maybe that’s it. Justin is very touchy about money, he wouldn’t let me continue the lease on the car, he won’t let me upgrade his computer though he’s mentioned some expensive new software he needs for school. But if he won’t let me spend money on him, why should he care that I spend money on real estate? I need to talk to Lindsay again. Christ, I hate consulting her about Justin, but she knows how to do relationships and I just fucking don’t.

Then I remember that Lindsay’s not speaking to me, so now I’m doubly fucked. I suppose Justin wants me to discuss THAT with him too. Well, I know he does, he tried several times to make me talk to him about it. It’s none of his business.

Lindsay's got this bug up her ass about having another baby, she wants Gus to have a brother or sister, and she wants me to donate sperm again. And Mel agrees. Well, Mel agrees in principle, though I'll bet she and Linds had some knock-down, drag-outs about the source of that sperm, just like last time. Linds wants Gus' sibling to have the same genes, to make them 'real' siblings. And I won't agree.

And I also won't agree that I should have to talk about it, with Lindsay or anybody else. I don't have to explain my reasons; I refuse to get into some emotional tug-of-war about this issue. Lindsay rhapsodizes about the joys of brothers and sisters, never mind she can't stand her own sister, never mind my sister ought to be arrested for being an idiot. I think Gus should be an only child but I'll be damned if I'll discuss it. If the munchers want another kid they can fucking well look elsewhere.

Gritting my teeth, I shut down that part of my brain that's dealing - or not dealing - with Lindsay, with Justin, and focus instead on the presentation I'll be making to Shasta Automotive in Cleveland tomorrow. Turning into the parking lot at the airport, it occurs to me suddenly that Justin could have dropped me off here and then he could have used the jeep while I'm gone. Christ, no wonder he gets so mad at me, I really don't think about his needs sometimes. Another mark in the asshole column for me. I wonder if Justin's keeping score?



Wednesday, October 15, 2003

Michael

Brian's supposed to come by the store tonight - and he damn well better come alone - because I need to ask his opinion about buying that old comic shop on the south side of town. Of course I've talked to Ben but he isn't always as honest with me as. . .well, as Brian. Brian never tells you anything less than the truth, even if he loves you. Especially if he loves you. So I know I'll get an honest reaction from him. He damn well better come alone and leave that brat at home.

Justin and I are getting along okay - just okay. I guess we'll never be good friends, not after the way he fucked Brian over. I still can't forgive him, I don't care that Brian forgave him, I never will. We work together because we have to on the comic and that's been going well, we’re starting to show a small profit, and distribution outside the state has increased the past few months. Outside of the comic, we're nice to each other's faces but I'll bet he complains about me to Brian behind my back.

At least he doesn't go to Babylon very much any more. Not that I do either but when I do, I know the chances are good that he won't be there too. Brian never told me what their agreement is about Babylon but I assume he told Justin to stay away so he can fuck around without getting hassled by his boyfriend. Apparently Justin doesn't give a shit about Brian fucking around - which just goes to show that he doesn't know how to hang onto a man. They're always breaking up, I wonder how long till they do it again?

I'm not supposed to know about it, but Justin walked out on Brian again three months ago. Went home to his mom's but it only lasted a couple days. Lindsay knew and she told Mel who told Ted who told me, all of us swearing each other to secrecy. Secrecy in this family is impossible. Since I wasn't supposed to know, I couldn't ask Brian about it. I waited for him to tell me but he never did.

It's hard to believe Brian lets himself get pulled into emotional shit, he hates that kind of stuff, so why does he tolerate it with Justin? I mean, the kid can't be that great a fuck, can he? Brian can have anybody he wants, yet he’s let this teenager keep hanging onto him, for years now. Well I guess Justin's not a teenager any more, though he still looks like one and acts like one. In fact he'll be twenty-one next month and I suppose Ben and I will have to go to his birthday party. Lindsay threw him a party last year and she's planning another for this year. Guess she doesn't trust Brian to take care of it.

The bell on the door pings and when I look up, ready with a smile for Brian, instead who walks in but the brat. "Hey," I say halfheartedly, thinking maybe Brian's right behind him but he's not.

"Hey Michael." Justin comes over to the counter and drops his backpack onto the floor, then kneels down and rummages through it.

"Your new sketches aren't due till Friday," I remind him.

"They're done now," he says, standing up and plopping a folder down on the countertop. "You always say to bring them by when they're finished, so I did."

"You could have called first."

Justin looks at me, narrowing his eyes; probably he's guessing I'm pissed that he's here right now. "Okay," he says coolly, scooping the drawings back into the folder.

"As long as you're here, let me see them," I say grudgingly, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "But next time, call first."

Justin looks at me again and I think he's going to turn around and walk out, then he just sighs and pulls out the drawings again. He pushes them across the counter to me and I start to sift through them, they're good. I don't know why but I'm always surprised that Justin's drawings are so good. Then the bell pings again and when I look up, sure enough it's Brian framed in the doorway.

"Hey," he says, moving forward and reaching out to grab Justin by the neck, pull him close for a kiss. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Me either, damn Justin all to hell.

"Hey Mikey," Brian smiles, keeping an arm around Justin and leaning his other arm down on the counter. "Why'd you want to see me?"

"I'll tell you later," I murmur, glancing back down at the drawings and keeping my eyes there.

There's a pause, then I hear Justin say, "Well, I'll be going, I just came by to drop those off."

"Hey," Brian interrupts him, "Why don't the three of us grab some dinner, you're closing in a minute, aren't you Michael?"

"You guys go ahead," Justin says quickly, "I've got to run by home first before I go to work." When I look up I see that he's pulled away from Brian's encircling arm and he picks up his backpack, slings it over his shoulder. "See you later," he says, to either or both of us.

"Wait," Brian calls, and when Justin turns from the door, Brian tosses his keys through the air and Justin catches them. "Take the jeep, why don't you. Mikey will drive me home - won't you Mikey?"

"Sure. Sure, glad to."

Justin's all smiles. "Thanks," he exclaims and he runs - he actually runs - over and throws himself into Brian's arms and they kiss. You'd think Brian had given him a diamond or an emerald or something, what a drama queen he's turning out to be. Then finally Justin turns away and he's out the door and gone at last.

"So," Brian turns to look at me and I can't read his face, he seems almost annoyed but that makes no sense. "Shall we go to dinner, or do you need to talk to me in complete privacy, here in the store?"

There's a slight undertone of sarcasm in Brian's voice but I ignore it. "Let's go eat," I say, logging off the computer and shutting down the cash register. Brian glances through Justin's sketches while I carry the cash drawer back to the safe.

"The new story's about that See The Light group, huh?" Brian asks.

"As if you haven't read the whole thing already," I reply, slightly miffed because no matter what Justin says, I'm positive he shares all our Rage secrets with Brian.

"Justin never shows his Rage sketches to me," Brian contradicts, "He says you have a rule about it."

I don't comment, I know Brian doesn't tell lies but still I'm sure Justin must share some of our Rage stuff, I mean come on, they live together. "Where shall we eat?" I change the subject, and when Brian shrugs, I suggest the new Vietnamese restaurant that just opened a couple blocks away.

"Justin loves Vietnamese," Brian says as we go out and I lock the door, "Maybe I'll get some take-out, in case he's hungry when he gets home from work."

My conscience twinges slightly. "He should have come with us."

"Yeah, right." Brian frowns slightly, but when I open my mouth to protest, Brian says, "Let's go, I'm starving, then you can tell me what you want my advice about. You did say you want my advice, right?"

"Yeah. Yes." We decide to walk to the restaurant, and I turn up my collar against the chill wind blowing down the street. I hate autumn, but only slightly less than I hate winter.



Brian

I'm annoyed at Michael for shutting Justin out but I make myself drop it, it's not my business to force friendship on those two, at least they're working together, they don't need to be buddies. I've tried to find out from Justin how things are really going between the two of them but all he'll ever say is 'fine.' Well, it's not my job to interfere so I'm staying out of it. Still, it bugs me when I see first-hand the obvious animosity Michael feels toward Justin.

Justin's in my life now, forever. Probably forever. And Michael will always be a constant in my life, like Deb, like Lindsay. So it annoys me that Michael can't seem to get past what happened with Justin and the fiddler. The few times I've brought it up, Mikey and I just end up mad at each other; better to leave it alone. It'll work out or it won't work out. Nothing I do can change that.

The food's good at the restaurant and while we eat we talk about family stuff - mostly Michael brings me up to date about Vic, who's been in the hospital twice this fall. We look at each other and see the worry, see the knowledge in each other's eyes that Vic's been going downhill for the past year. But I remind Mikey that Vic's a tough old bird and he's pulled through quite a few bouts of pneumonia, he'll be fine by spring. Anyway that's what we tell ourselves and try to believe it. I tell Michael about Clare's new husband, an accountant nearly as boring as Ted. She got remarried in the summer and Justin leaned on me to go to the ceremony. The only reason I agreed was that Clare personally invited Justin. They've become sort-of friends, Justin helped Clare's oldest boy with his school work, tutored him in algebra. I said he should charge a thousand dollars an hour for that God-awful brat but Justin only laughed and said, “He’s not so bad.” If Justin met Attila the Hun, I’m sure he’d describe old Attila as “not so bad, once you get to know him.”

Finally Michael gets down to business, and it's business advice he's after. He's thinking of buying another old comic shop. He's built up a bit of capital and Ben has some savings he's willing to ante up. Michael hasn't shared the news with anyone else, and I suggest he should talk to Ted, Ted's more of a brass-tacks businessman than I am. But it turns out it's my opinion Michael really wants. Or my approval. So I give it to him - I do think it's a good move, and I offer to help out if he needs cash for upfront expenses. Naturally Michael refuses.

What is it about men who keep refusing financial assistance from me - first Justin, now Michael. Somehow they don't understand that giving money makes me feel good. I've struggled hard to get where I'm at, and that's all that the money means to me - success. When they don't let me share it, I feel like my success means nothing to them.

Fucking hell, there I go analyzing myself again! I've done more fucking self-analysis the past year or two than I’d done in my entire life before. Since Justin forced his way into my life, forced his way inside my head, inside my damn heart. For a long time I didn't even think I had a heart. And the truth is, in most cases it's much better to be heartless. But it's not always better. Not always.

"Brian?"

I bring myself back to the table, glance at Michael and smile, reach across and lay a hand on his arm and squeeze. "I say go for it. Remember, 'life not worth living if you not take risk.'"

"Risks are easy for you," Michael counters and I almost laugh.

Michael knows me so well and yet there's so much that he doesn't know. All the years we grew up together Mikey thought I was brave. Strong and courageous. It's easy to be brave when you have nothing to lose and nobody can hurt you. It's harder when someone's got hold of you and won't fucking let go, even when you keep pushing them away. That's when it's suddenly hard to take risks.

"Drive me home now, okay?" I raise my eyebrows at him and he nods. "But let me order some take-out first."

"Going to Babylon tonight?"

"No." I was planning to but I've changed my mind. Instead I think I'll hang around the loft till Justin comes home from work. If he's not too tired maybe we can watch a DVD. Sometimes I like sitting on the sofa with him while he stretches out and lays his head in my lap, I love to caress his hair while we watch a movie. Or just sit looking at the tv with the sound turned off. Sometimes that’s even more relaxing than getting sucked off by two or three anonymous mouths. Hard to believe, but true.




Justin

I’m surprised to find Brian in the loft when I get home about ten-thirty, Michael must have let him in since I have his keys. I was sure he’d go to Babylon. He’s on the computer and when I come in he rolls his chair backwards and glances inquiringly at me. “Working late?”

“No,” I reply as I pull off my jacket, “I went for coffee with Bobby, I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“Who’s Bobby?”

“She’s the children’s department manager.”

“Ah. Hungry?” When I say kind-of, Brian stands up and leads the way to the kitchen. “I brought you some take-out, we went to that new Vietnamese place. You should have come along.”

“Thanks.” Throwing my jacket toward a barstool I slip an arm around Brian’s waist as he opens the fridge. “I just ate a blueberry muffin but probably I could eat something else.”

He stops to lean down and kiss my mouth briefly. “Probably you could eat half a cow.”

I laugh but shake my head. “Haven’t you noticed – my appetite’s smaller now that I’m older.”

“Right,” he agrees as he pulls a take-out carton from the fridge, “Now you can only eat a third of a cow.” Brian kisses the top of my head. “Go change into your jammies while I nuke some of these noodles for you.”

“They are not pajamas, they are sweats.”

“Right,” he says again and I leave him to it and go change clothes. When I come back he’s dumping a carton of steaming noodles onto a plate. “Grab a fork, let’s watch tv while you eat.” I get a fork and follow Brian into the living room, then slide down to sit on the floor to eat off the plate he sets on the coffee table. Brian sits behind me on the sofa, holding me prisoner between his knees. He grabs the remote and turns on the news channel, then mutes the sound. It took me a long time to get used to watching tv without the sound but now I like it too.

After a few minutes Brian says, “Justin?” I tilt my head back and look at him upside-down. “Justin, if I talk to you about Lindsay, do you promise not to argue with me? Promise not to try and change my mind?”

I swallow the last bite of noodles and push the plate away, then get up and plop down on the sofa. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“If I tell you my reasons, will you just accept them and not – “

“Brian, will you let me tell you my own reasons too, or do I only get to listen to yours?”

He makes a face and shakes his head. “I knew it.”

“Discussing things means two people talking, not one person talking and the other just listening.”

“I don’t want to discuss it,” he points out.

“Then don’t.” I stand up, grab the plate and take it to the kitchen. I rinse it, put it in the dishwasher, and then just wait for a minute by the sink.

“Come back here.”

I go back into the living room and stand by the sofa.

“Sit.” So I sit.

“Okay,” Brian says, “Tell me your reasons first. Then I’ll tell you mine and THEN you won’t argue with me.”

“What about rebuttal? In debate both sides get a chance to offer rebuttal.”

“Justin, say what you want to say. And I’ll listen.”

“Okay.” I think for a minute, then say, “Lindsay and Melanie are good parents. They’ll love a second child as much as Gus. And it’s good for kids to have siblings, it teaches them sharing and so on. And I really get what Lindsay says, about both children having the same gene pool, probably it will make them love each other more.” I hesitate, watching Brian’s face. He’s listening but I can’t tell if I’m getting through.

“Finished?”

When I nod, Brian stands up abruptly and begins to pace. He’s not good at being still. Then he stops near me and says, “My reasons for saying no are more complicated. And maybe some of them are selfish or even silly. But they’re my reasons, it’s my sperm, the child would be mine as much as Gus is mine.”

He waits, looking hard at me and I nod again.

“Not all siblings are good for each other,” he says. “Or to each other. I think Gus will be a lot happier as an only child. Spoiled maybe, but so what. I can’t stop Lindsay from finding another donor, but it’s not going to be me. She says me or nobody, and I say no.”

After a moment, even though I know Brian will get mad, I can’t keep from asking, “Was Clare mean to you, is that why, Brian?”

And he does get mad, he throws his arms in the air and groans, then turns abruptly away and pulls back the drapes, stares out the window at the darkness. He’s not going to answer me.

I can’t think of anything else to say. Brian never talks to me about his family, except once when he mentioned that his dad used to hit him. And I know he doesn’t like his mom very much. He used to pretend that he didn’t give a shit about them, but I’ve seen first-hand that his mom can still hurt him, after all this time. Finally I stand up and walk over to the window, move around Brian till I’m standing in front of him, slip my arms around him and lay my head on his chest.

“Okay,” I whisper, “I won’t argue any more.”

Then Brian hugs me to him and I feel his tense body relax slightly. “Let’s go to bed, I’m tired.”

So we go to bed and Brian pulls me insistently into his arms. But we don’t make love, instead he holds onto me so tight I can hardly breathe. We lay like that for a long time, I can tell Brian’s still thinking but I know he won’t talk to me about it any more, so finally I fall asleep.

In the morning I'm awakened by kisses on my neck. Brian and I have slept like spoons all night, his arms are still around me, pulling me tight against him as his warm breath tickles my ear and his soft lips move from my hair down past my cheek and down my neck, over my shoulder. I turn and slide my arms around his neck and our mouths meet and our bodies move of their own accord to fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Our morning love-making is so comfortable, almost cozy, or anyway it starts out like that, unhurried, easy, each of us not quite awake but our bodies knowing exactly what to do. Lots of slow kissing, lots of gentle pressure - our bodies rubbing together, gradually kindling warmth into heat. In a few minutes I'm almost crying out with my need for him but he won't be rushed, he pulls his mouth away from mine and slips down on the bed, throwing off the duvet, his mouth leaving moist hot kisses down my chest, pausing to flick each nipple before he moves further down, stopping briefly to fuck my belly button with his tongue.

By the time his mouth reaches my cock and he licks the tip, my hands on his head start pulling his hair and I'm gasping, "Brian, fuck me, Brian, fuck me."

He lifts his head then and smiles. "Okay," he laughs softly, then he rises to his knees, picking up my legs and settling them on his shoulders, the fingers of one hand gently poking inside, getting me ready, the other hand reaching out, ready for the condom that I grab from the bowl and push toward him.

"Hurry-hurry-hurry," I insist, making Brian laugh again, then he's pushing inside me, and leaning forward to retrace the path his mouth had just taken down my body but moving upwards now, planting burning-hot kisses all over my skin. But I grab his head again and pull his face toward me. "Come here," I insist, I want his hot wet kisses on my lips, I need to suck his tongue into my mouth, my legs lock tight around his back as his hips move in rhythm, fucking me harder and harder and harder.

Suddenly the alarm clock goes off and I jump slightly, but Brian picks it up, pushes a button and places it back on the table, all without breaking rhythm. "I turned on the snooze alarm," he tells me breathlessly, before leaning back down to touch my mouth with his own, and he adds between kisses, "You've got eight" (kiss) "minutes." (kiss) "Can you last" (kiss) "that long?" (kiss)

"Yes," I assure him urgently, but just a few moments later I'm correcting myself. "No. . ."



Monday, October 20, 2003

Brian

Jesse’s been on vacation and I’m not sure he’ll have time to drop by my office on his shift tonight. Seeing each other is kind of hit-and-miss and I realize that I like it that way. I don’t want my friendship with Jesse to become a routine, I’d hate for him to feel obliged to drop by to see me at any given time.

“Knock-knock.” I look up and he’s here, I smile and wave him in and pull out the JB and paper cups, bring them around the desk so I can sit next to him and share a drop. Naturally I ask him about his vacation first, he went to visit his son in Colorado; but within minutes Jesse’s figured out that I need to talk about something. I don’t know how he always figures it out but he does.

“So Brian,” he asks, leaning back in the chair and crossing one beige-uniformed leg over the other, “How’s your young man?”

This is how Jesse always refers to Justin, my ‘young man,’ which for some reason I think is kind of sweet.

“He’s fine, he likes his new job at Borders, I’m sure he’ll be running the place in a few months.”

He probably will too, I know they think very highly of him there already. I was all in favor of him changing jobs – it’s physically less demanding than waiting tables at the diner, and the bookstore is close to campus so there’s not so much commute time involved. It’s less money to start because of course there’s no tips, but there’s room for promotion and I convinced him it was worth taking the cut.

I’m also glad he won’t have guys hitting on him every two minutes like at the diner, but of course I didn’t mention that to Justin. Naturally I wasn’t jealous or anything like that, but Justin isn’t very good at judging men, he can’t even tell when someone’s hitting on him half the time.

“So,” Jesse reaches over to tap ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray on the corner of my desk, “If Justin’s doing fine, what is it that’s worrying you?”

I don’t even try to deny it, I’m no longer surprised when Jesse cuts to the chase.

“You know my son, he’s four now – “

“He’s okay?”

“Oh yeah, yes, he’s fine.”

“I met him at the barbecue party at Debbie’s this summer, he was full of piss and vinegar, bet he’s quite a handful for his moms.”

“No shit,” I agree, and I admit to myself that I couldn’t live with a toddler, especially not one with Gus’ energy. When he visits us it’s Justin who gets right down on the floor and communicates with Gus at his own level. Justin never loses patience, but about two hours with Gus is enough to send me around the bend.

“The thing is,” I tell Jesse, “They want to have another child – Gus’ mommies, and they – well, Lindsay mostly – they want me to donate sperm again.”

“Donate?”

Jesse looks confused so I explain, “That’s how they did it before – I jerked off in a cup and they used a turkey baster to squirt it inside her.”

“Oh,” he shakes his head. “What’s wrong with the old-fashioned way? Couldn’t you. . .”

“I could,” I tell him with a laugh, “But if I did, Melanie would kill me.”

“Oh, I see,” Jesse nods. I’m not sure he gets it but that’s enough explanation for anyone. Or at any rate, it’s as much as I’m giving.

“And you. . .” Jesse hesitates for a moment, studying my face, then he says, “You don’t want to.”

He stops there and waits. Finally - somebody who doesn’t demand an explanation, somebody who isn’t pushing me into some kind of defensive mode, somebody who’s not insisting on answers!

So of course I go ahead and answer him. “No,” I say, and still he waits.

Finally I shake my head, stand up and pace to the end of the room and back again, perch on the edge of the desk facing Jesse. “I want Gus to be an only child.”

Jesse nods. “There’s a lot to be said for being an only child,” he agrees.

Then I realize that I’m waiting for him. We’ve got this down to a science almost. I don’t ask his advice and he doesn’t give it to me. Then I argue with him.

“There’s bad stuff too,” I point out. He raises his eyebrows quizzically so I go on. “He’ll be spoiled rotten – he is already. He won’t learn to share his toys.”

“The spoiling doesn’t matter – up to a point. Lindsay and Melanie seem like very sensible women, they’ll probably make sure he knows his limits. And sharing’s a hard thing to learn – most kids don’t learn that till much later anyway, when they’re school age.”

After a moment or two of silence, Jesse continues, “Besides, children are expensive. Lindsay told me you contribute financially, that can be a expensive proposition for eighteen, twenty years.”

“I don’t care about money.” I stare at Jesse, feeling strangely deflated. He leans forward and taps his cigarette on the ashtray, then takes another puff and exhales.

“Okay,” he says quietly, leaning back in the chair, “What’s the real reason?”

I pull a cigarette from the pack on my desk and light it, buying time. Leaning back, I exhale a cloud of smoke that hangs over my head like a question mark.

“Gus might – Gus and his sister or brother might – hate each other. Might hurt each other.”

“Why would they do that?”

Lowering my head I stare at Jesse. “It happens.”

“In some families,” he admits. “Families where there’s not enough love to go around.” When I don’t respond, Jesse says, “Maybe that happened in your family.”

Something twists inside my gut and I hear myself admitting, “We were cruel to each other. My sister and I both. I hurt her as much as she hurt me.” Jesse nods understandingly, and so I tell him, “Our house was a training school for inflicting pain, we were all masters of it.”

“That’s rough,” Jesse murmurs, “And you’re right. It happens.”

I sigh then, a huge sigh of relief; he understands. Maybe he even agrees with me.

But Jesse’s not finished speaking. “Brian,” he asks, “Do you think that’s likely to happen in this family? Would Lindsay and Melanie hurt each other, would they let children hurt each other?”

I think about the munchers, almost ten years together and still mushily romantic. I think about the way they’re raising Gus, how happy he seems to be, how content, a silly little smile always on that chubby face that strangely enough looks like a blurry-baby version of my own face. Gus may be spoiled rotten, but he’ll never wonder if he’s loved.

“No,” I say at last, “No. But is that enough? It’s still a gamble, isn’t it? It’s still possible Gus might suffer somewhere along the way, having another child in the family, having to fight for attention?”

“Nothing’s ever certain, Brian. Things change, people change.” Jesse stands up, stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray and drains his paper cup of JB. He puts his hand on my shoulder – it’s taken so long for me to accept his affectionate touch without flinching.

“Well,” Jesse says seriously, squeezing my shoulder with his work-hardened hand. “It’s up to you to decide on the odds and make your own decision. And I’m a hundred percent sure that whatever you decide will be the right thing. You’re a good man.”

Jesse moves away and heads for the door, then turns to wave over his shoulder with one hand and shove the paper cup in his pocket with the other. I sit there on the edge of my desk for a few minutes, wondering why Jesse likes me so much. And wondering what Jesse sees in me to make him think that I’m a good man. Still, I have a lot of respect for Jesse’s opinions - so who knows, maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not a complete and utter asshole.




Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Lindsay

Brian calls me from his car to tell me he’s coming over, he knows I don’t have any classes on Tuesdays and he says he gambled that I’d be home. I’m surprised that he can just leave his office but he reminds me that he’s a partner and can make his own schedule. When I say, “Lucky you,” Brian snorts, the sound loud in my ear.

“Yeah, lucky me, I’m putting in twelve and fourteen hour days most of the time, a couple hours off in the afternoon is no big deal.”

He also remembers that Melanie’s at a conference in Atlanta but he double-checks to be sure, he says he wants to see me alone, which is naturally intriguing; but Brian’s being very serious and won’t joke around. He hangs up abruptly, and I just have time to make a pot of strong coffee before he arrives, and I hand him a cup, remembering that he likes extra sugar.

Right away he gives me the news – he’s decided to donate sperm after all! I’m over the moon with happiness, but when I come back to earth I ask Brian, “What made you change your mind?”

He answers quickly, “Oh, various things. Partly Justin. But if you tell him that, I’ll deny it.”

“What did he say?”

Brian drains his coffee cup and answers slowly, “It wasn’t anything he said. I just realized what a good brother he is to Molly. Maybe Gus will be a good big brother, too.”

I just nod but I don’t speak, I don’t want to break the spell. Brian talks about personal things only when he wants to, and I know better than to interrupt him.

After a moment he goes on, “And I realized – I just was thinking about it yesterday, and I realized that you’re good parents, you and Melanie. You won’t damage Gus, and you won’t let a brother or sister damage Gus.”

Then Brian takes a look at my face and the shutters go back up. “So,” he says briskly, “I’ll get tested this week, how long do you want to wait after that?”

“Brian.” I’m finding it difficult to speak now; I know I have to, Mel made me promise. “Brian, we want to ask for another condition.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he nods, “And I’ll sign the papers any time you want. We won’t go through that biological parent sign-off shit again.” He stands up and I reach for his hand, pull him back down beside me on the sofa.

“Brian, there’s another condition we’ve been talking about. I don’t know if you’ll agree.”

“What?” His face is noncommittal, but I feel the tension in his body as I keep holding onto his hand.

Taking a deep breath I begin. “I know you’re careful – for your own sake, and even more so now for Justin’s sake.”

“Yeah. So?”

“We, umm, we just wondered if you’d agree, well, if you’d agree to be monogamous with Justin, for three months after the test. Just to be extra sure.”

“Fuck!” Brian leaps off the sofa and walks away from me. “Fuck that! I’m always careful. Fuck if I’m going to give up sex for three months.”

“Not give up sex, Bri – just limit sex to only Justin. He’ll need to be tested too of course, but – “

“He’s fine. He’s practically monogamous already. Fuck.”

“Brian – “

“Fuck no. Just fucking no. I won’t do it.”

“Bri, would it kill you to give up anonymous sex for a couple months?”

“Yes.” He’s glaring at me. “Yes, it would fucking kill me. I won’t do it.”

“Brian – “

“No.”

“Brian – “

And then he’s gone. Storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him. And there goes my hope for another baby, a brother or sister for Gus. All because Brian can’t give up tricking for a couple months. I’m despondent, and I allow myself to cry for a while. Finally I pull myself together, wash my face and go upstairs to see if Gus has woken up from his nap. I’ll survive, but I’m terribly disappointed.

A couple hours later Justin comes by to show me some sketches he’s working on for a project in his advanced graphics techniques class, he wants my input about the color scheme he’s chosen. I love discussing art with Justin and I love how he respects my suggestions. Sometimes being an art teacher begins to feel like rote, you forget your own artistic aspirations, and it’s wonderful to share in someone else’s life, especially someone as talented as Justin.

I consider telling Justin about Brian’s visit but I decide against it; privacy to Brian is sacrosanct and I won’t break his trust.

Justin helps me give Gus his bath and carries him into the kitchen while I start to prepare dinner, we’re discussing our favorite recipes for meatloaf. When the phone rings I have both hands in a bowl of hamburger, so I gesture to the phone with my chin. “Put it on speaker phone, will you please?” I ask, and Justin puts Gus on the floor and hits the speaker button on the wall phone.

“Hello?”

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

It’s Brian! “Oh Brian, that’s wonderful, I – “

“BUT!” his shout is made louder by the open speaker, “But! You have to promise.”

“Promise what? What do I have to promise?”

“If you ever tell ANYBODY, anybody at all, that I’m being monogamous for three God-damn months, the deal is OFF.”

“Sure, Brian, sure, I promise. We won’t tell anybody – “

“Not even Justin. You hear me? You especially cannot tell Justin.”

I glance quickly at Justin and see him slap a hand over his mouth. Then he’s bent nearly double, trying not to laugh out loud. Suppressing my own laughter, I point silently at the door and urge Justin to go quickly into the living room. I rub my messy fingers on a towel and grab the telephone, push the speaker button off.

“Brian, Melanie and I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

“If you do, the deal’s off. I mean it.”

“Okay Brian, okay. Thank you so much. Now your son will have a brother or sister to play with. You might even like having another child yourself – stranger things have happened.”

“Me being monogamous is about the strangest thing to happen in this lifetime. It might even interfere with the space-time continuum. So keep your fucking mouth shut. Promise?”

“Yes,” I agree, glancing up to see Justin standing in the kitchen doorway, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Yes, I promise.”

1/9/03

 

Return to Pre-Season Three Stories