“Hey, Vic.” Justin puts the bags down, takes his jacket off, and comes in the kitchen.
“You left early today,” I say as he sits at the table. “Couldn’t wait to spend some money?” I smile.
“I had to stop by Michael’s first.”
“Everything ok?” The two of them have been working so hard lately on getting issue after issue out.
“Yeah. Jake’s been on our case a lot lately, but it’s fine,” he stuffs a carrot in his mouth.
It still amazes me how much Justin has achieved. He’s a junior in college and he already sells some of his art. AND Rage is becoming bigger and bigger with every issue. And to think that not even three years ago he was lying in a coma. We all thought he wouldn’t make it. Even my own sister who never gave up on me began to lose faith. And it made me even more scared.
But the scariest thing was seeing Brian in those first three days. Besides Michael, I was the only one who caught a glimpse of him. And I wish I never had. Because that image…of him covered in Justin’s blood, completely grief-stricken, is permanently imbedded in my brain. He didn’t leave the hospital for three days, staying in a different waiting room than the rest of us. Michael was able to get him cleaned up a little and change clothes. But no matter what, Brian wouldn’t let go of that scarf. He just sat there, staring into space and clutching it in his hands or putting in around his neck.
We didn’t know what to do on the first anniversary of the bashing. Debbie said that we should just go about our business as if it was just another ordinary day. And Justin seemed to have the same idea. He didn’t even mention it. Didn’t even look like it was on his mind or that it bothered him that Brian was nowhere to be found all day. But at night he couldn’t pretend anymore. He was screaming so loud, I thought he’d wake the whole neighborhood up. Debbie and I both ran into his room and tried to comfort him. That night we got a glimpse of what Jennifer told us about when he first got out of the hospital. We were lost. He wouldn’t let us touch him. Wouldn’t even let us come near him.
I was so panicked I was ready to call Brian. He, better than anybody, would know how to calm Justin down. But Debbie just yanked the phone right out of my hands, saying that Brian wasn’t doing much better than Sunshine and we should just let them heal on their own. Which is exactly what we did. We don’t live in the Kingdom of La Kinney for nothing. We did what Brian always does. Which is absolutely nothing. Pretend as if nothing happened.
“I thought Deb’s shift ended three hours ago,” Justin brings me back to the present.
“It did,” I say as I go back to stirring the icing for the cake. “She had to make a run to the store.”
“Another one? We should have just had Thanksgiving dinner there. Save some money on gas,” he chuckles.
And he’s absolutely right. Debbie always goes nuts on Thanksgiving.
“Do you need help?”
Justin’s a great cook. He’s almost as good of a cook as he is an artist. I remember the first morning after he moved back in he made us this huge breakfast. His way of thanking us, well, Debbie, for taking him in again. It was about two weeks after he and Brian parted ways. He was back at Jen’s house and you didn’t have to be a genius to know that he was miserable there. So, Debbie convinced Jen to let him come live with us, saying that she needed some help around the house and with me, of course. That was my idea. A nice touch, I think. Of course, Jen couldn’t refuse, since she’s still so grateful for us taking care of her son when she couldn’t. So, Sunshine moved back into the same room upstairs. Except he was anything but Sunshine. He became very closed off, never talking about anything that really mattered.
Debbie used to worry about that, still does really. Once she even went as far as inviting Ethan, who wasn’t a favorite subject of conversation in this house, to dinner just to get some glimpse of what was going on in Justin’s life. But Justin just shook his head, saying it wasn’t a good idea.
I think it was a few weeks later, around the time Justin started his sophomore year, that the two of them broke up. When I asked him what happened he just shrugged his shoulders and said, “I guess he just wasn’t the right guy.” “Who is?” I asked him, pretty much knowing the answer, but Justin surprised me. “I’m still looking,” he said instead.
“Here, cut these,” I point to a bowl of veggies on the table and he eagerly goes to work.
We’re both quiet for a while, both engrossed in our tasks when I hear a faint “Vic?”
“Yeah,” I turn around.
“Can I ask you something?” He asks, twirling celery in his hands.
“Sure, princess.”
He smiles at my nickname for him. Then frowns. “Do you…do you think that it’s possible for Brian to be in a relationship with someone?”
Damn. “Michael talked to you.”
He nods.
“I told him not to,” I mumble, making a mental note to talk to my nephew about this.
“So, you don’t think it’s true? Don’t think it’s possible?”
I look at him. “Everything’s possible, Justin. It’s just…”
“Just what?” He looks at me and I wonder whether he’s hoping I say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.
“Well, you tell me. You were with him for a while.”
He shakes his head. “That was different.”
“How?”
“Brian didn’t have a choice. He had to take me in.”
I have to smile at that. “Brian never does anything he doesn’t want to do, you know that.”
“I know, but after the bashing I was…” He pauses, as if looking for the right word to describe how he was when he got out of the hospital. “Fucked up.”
Hmmm, pretty accurate description, actually.
“And he felt guilty. And yeah, it was good for a while, but it was wrong. For both of us. I’m just wondering whether Brian could have a relationship with somebody he doesn’t feel obligated to or guilty or responsible. When there aren’t any tragic events forcing him to do anything.”
I sit down next to him and sigh. I really don’t have an answer to that.
“Do you think it’s possible?”
I just shrug. “For Brian’s sake, I hope it is.”
He nods, sadness in his eyes.
“Sunshine, you’re home early.”
We both turn around to see Debbie fly into the kitchen with bags in her hands.
Justin, always the perfect son, gets up and helps her put everything away. “I don’t think I could handle another food overload,” he says and the three of us laugh at the memory of the last Thanksgiving.
“What’s wrong, princess, afraid of a little turkey?” I tease and he grins at me.
Debbie slaps my arm. “Come on, let’s get a move on. Everybody will be here soon.
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