The Gus Diaries

Part 147

Justin's Holiday III
 

The day after Jeff and I had dinner at Grandma Jen and Tucker’s place, I helped Uncle Michael at the store to earn a few dollars. It felt good to get a break from all the intense studying and writing I had been doing at school for the previous three months. Since Uncle Michael was getting a shitload of new comics in every week he was happy to have the extra help. Mem insisted Jenny couldn’t help at the store until she was sixteen, but whenever she knew I’d be working, she would stop by and visit. It was nice spending time with her and Uncle Michael.

“Any idea what’s been bothering Justin?”

Not wanting to lie directly to Uncle Michael, I tried to put my best confused/innocent expression on my face before answering. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Uncle Michael.”

Jenny let out a snort that would appall my ladylike Mom. “Oh, come on, I’m only fourteen, but even I can see he wasn’t himself during Christmas. He’s usually all smiles and bubbly.”

“Jenny, I wouldn’t use the word bubbly directly to him. Pop may not take it as a compliment.”

All of us chuckled, but it didn’t deter Uncle Michael. “I’m still concerned. Is Justin okay?” His eyes widened. “Is Brian okay? Is your father sick?”

Oh shit. Now Michael was channeling Grandma Deb’s alarmist, overly dramatic nature. “Everything’s fine. Maybe he’s just thinking about getting older or some crap like that.”

“You are no help, Gus. I thought having a journalist for a big brother would mean I’d get all the hot information first. Instead, you know nothing.”

I shrugged my shoulders and continued unpacking a box of Spiderman comics. “If you’re looking for the next TMZ reporter, you won’t find him here. I may do some human nature pieces, but I don’t sling gossip.”

Jenny shook her head and walked toward the rear of the store where Uncle Michael kept a small collection of old comic collectables. “I can’t believe people actually hauled around these geeky metal lunch boxes.”

Uncle Michael laughed. “You wouldn’t believe what people bought if they were interested in certain celebrities, comics, rock groups, whatever.”

Fortunately, neither one asked about Pop again. After work Jeff and Marci picked me up and we made our way to Craig Taylor’s home. It hadn’t been difficult to find out his address since he was listed in Switchboard.com. I guess being a lower level executive in a big electronics company didn’t warrant needing an unlisted number or address.

“Gus, I think Jeff and I should wait out here.”

“Why? I thought you were both here for moral support.” We had just pulled up in front of the pristinely landscaped colonial style home. I couldn’t believe my boyfriend and my best friend were about to send me to face the evil dragon alone.

“I think Marci’s right. We know the guy’s a total homophobe. If you really want to make headway with him, it might be better if he doesn’t know up front that you’re as gay as his son.”

I hated to admit it, but Jeff and Marci were right. There was no way I’d get a word in edgewise if Mr. Taylor saw me as a reflection of Pop, or even worse, my dad. It’s no secret the two of them would kill each other if left in a room alone for more than ten minutes.

“Okay.” I looked at Marci, seated in the back seat, and Jeff who was driving. “Just watch closely. If I think you should join me I’ll wave.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Marci touched my shoulder at the same time Jeff covered my hand. “I hope you can do something to help your Pop and his father mend some of their lost relationship. Jeff and I both know what it’s like to lose parents.”

“It sucks,” Jeff whispered.

“It sure as hell does.” Marci nodded.

Thanking both of them for being there for me, I got out of the car and headed up the walk to the front door. I rang the doorbell and heard some scuffling inside the house. My guess was Pop’s little brother was inside running around.

It didn’t take long before a nice looking woman who looked about Mom’s age answered the door. She had long dark hair, tied back in a ponytail, wore black pants and a button-down shirt. It was a lot like the clothes Mem would wear on what she called business casual days at her law firm.

“Good afternoon. May I help you? We don’t make any donations unless we have written information about your organization.”

“Oh, I’m not here to ask for money. I came to see Mr. Taylor. We’re kind of related.”

“Excuse me?” It was obvious the woman was confused.

“My name is Gus and I’m Craig Taylor’s--” I didn’t get to finish my sentence.

“Lori, who’s at the door?” I heard a voice in the background call out. It was vaguely familiar from a couple of years earlier.

“Craig, I think you’d better come here. There’s a young man here to see you.”

“I already told Justin--”

“It’s not Justin, honey. This young man is far younger.”

I mouthed ‘Thank you’ to Lori and waited for Mr. Taylor’s arrival.

When Craig Taylor arrived at the door he was taller than I remembered, although I had never gotten too close to him. My dads had tried to shelter me from his irrational and bigoted behavior.

His hair was completely white. I imagined it had been as blond as Pop’s at one time in his life. There were wrinkles around his eyes that seemed to extend into his hairline and dark circles under his eyes.

“Hello, young man. What can I do for you?”

This was it. I’d watched Dad sell plenty of products over the years to people who didn’t really need or want them. Now I had to sell Pop to Mr. Taylor. “Hi, Mr. Taylor. It’s been a long time since either of us has seen one another. My name is Gus.”

“Gus?” He did offer his hand to shake and I took it willingly.

“Yes sir. We once met briefly at Britin -- my house.”

Craig Taylor looked baffled and I knew I had to talk quickly if I was to get a chance to make my point.

“My name is Gus Taylor Kinney. Justin Taylor is one of my fathers and he’s been very concerned about you. So have I.”

“Did Justin put you up to this? I knew he’d become underhanded, but I had no idea he would sink low enough to use a kid to do his pleading.” Mr. Taylor’s eyes narrowed and he started to close the door. I quickly took a step closer.

“He has no idea I’m here. In fact, he doesn’t know that I know you’re sick. The one thing I do know is that I love my Pop and whether you like it or not, and whether you return the feelings or not, he loves you and is concerned about you.”

“He’s just become a money-grubbing parasite, like that, that--”

“Husband of his.” I sighed. “His husband is my father, and neither of them needs to grub for money. Both of them have more than enough disposable income to go around and then some. If you had taken the time to do any reading in the Arts section of the Pittsburgh newspaper, you’d also know Justin has become world renowned. He even has a painting hanging in the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.”

Craig Taylor’s face was frozen. I think I’d just given him an unexpected surprise. What I didn’t know was whether the surprise was about the artwork or about the fact that Pop loved him.

“The Warhol Museum is featuring a couple of Justin Taylor paintings in a special exhibit. The opening is next week and it’s by invitation only.” I had swiped an extra invitation from the pile in Pop’s studio and pulled it out of my jacket pocket. “Here. Even if you don’t appreciate modern art, his work is pretty damn impressive. You should see it; you should see him.”

“What makes you think I’d be welcome, or even want to go?” He took the invitation from me and looked at it, not making any effort to return it, toss it to the side or tear it up.

“I don’t think you’d be unwelcome. If you ever really loved your son, maybe it’s time to try to show him. I love him more than I can say. He’s an amazing father, and although I’m sure a lot of that comes naturally, it must have started with someone as a good role model.”

Knowing I’d said everything I came to, and not wanting to press my luck, I offered my hand to Mr. Taylor. “Thank you for listening to me, sir. I really hope I see you again... soon.”

I quickly turned and returned to the safety of the car where Jeff and Marci were looking at me as I approached but were smart enough not to make any gestures. There would be plenty of time to tell them what happened on the drive home.

[TBC]

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