I couldn't stand the loft anymore. It was too quiet, and I'd run out
of busy
work the night before. With nothing to do but think, I can't get him
out of
my mind. I keep seeing the look in his eyes right before he left. We
keep
coming back to this. Justin walking away, and me standing there
helpless,
paralyzed, unwilling to ask him to stay. How many times are we
destined to
play out this scene?
I know that answer to that. It won't happen again. Justin has finally
left
me for good. He may think the last time he left was forever, but I
know the
difference. When he left the party, he left out of defiance, anger,
and a
need to prove himself. Today he left out of defeat. Ethan was about
showing
me he could find someone who would love him and making me realize he
was
worth all the things I wouldn't give him. He didn't realize I already
knew
all of that. His leaving was about him and about making a statement to
me.
But this morning, he left for me. He left to save me. I finally made
him
realize that love can't heal all wounds. That we were never going to
have a
fairy tale ending. He finally saw what loving him cost me. And he
walked
away because he knew it was what I needed. He will never come back; I
made
sure of that.
But dwelling on it won't change anything. I can't take back what I
said, and
I wouldn't even if I could. I can't take the pain from his eyes. So
if you
can't fix it, forget about it. And the first step to wiping every
moment of
this morning from my mind is getting dead ass drunk. At least that's
the
plan as I step into Woody's. If that doesn't work, there's always
Anita and
the backroom.
The first person I see is Emmett. He's sitting in a corner looking
like he
lost his best friend. I'm tempted to ignore him, but he'll probably
spot me
and make a bigger scene. I stop at the bar for a refill for Emmett and
a
couple of drinks for myself. From the looks of things, this could be a
long
night. Emmett barely looks up when I set his drink down. I should ask
him
what's wrong, but I really don't care. Hopefully, Ted will show up
soon and
rescue me. Those two are living proof that misery does love company.
Eventually, the silence begins to bother me. "So where are the rest of
the
boys?"
"Michael and Ben are at Debbie's. Ted has some live show to direct."
All
this is said without any inflection or gesturing.
"So Ted has a new star to replace Fetch Dixon?" The only thing
stranger than
Ted as a porn king is Emmett as a porn star. Porn is generally the
domain of
the Zach O'Toole's of the world. Big beefy men who are clearly tops.
Yet
somehow, the queen of nelly bottoms took the porn world by storm. I
guess a
big dick makes up for a lot. Not that I would know. One image I did
not
need stuck in my head was Emmett jerking off, especially in costume.
Instead of answering me, Emmett bursts into tears. "Dammit Emmett stop
that.
I'm sure Ted will take you back."
"It's not that," he sniffs while dabbing his eyes with a napkin.
"Today is,
well would have been, George's birthday."
Christ, just what I need a weepy, mourning Emmett. "Just missed the
century
mark, did he?" So I'm a bastard. No one in there right mind would come
to me
for sympathy. And so what if I piss him off. Anger's a hell of a lot
better
than depression.
"No, I wish he had lived that long. Then we would have had years
together
instead of a few short months." Emmett sighs and resumes staring at
his
drink.
I look at the door hoping Ted will magically appear. For once in my
life, I
actually wish Ted was around. I turn back around and find Emmett
looking at
me oddly. I don't know what the look means, but I'm glad he's stopped
crying.
"You know what I was thinking Brian? What if I had a fairy godmother.
What
if right after I met George, my fairy godmother came to me and said
‘Emmett,
you are going to fall madly in love with this man. And he will love
you too.
You will be very happy for a few months, but then he will die.' What
do you
think I would do?"
This conversation has gotten way too weird for me. And while I refuse
to
even attempt to think like Emmett, I do try to come up with an
appropriate
response. Maybe I've had more drinks than I remember. "You would say
it's
better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all or
whatever the
fuck that saying is. Then you would have enjoyed the time you had with
George." It's all bullshit as far as I'm concerned, but it sounds like
Emmett.
"God, no. Even I'm not that pathetic." He shakes his head and laughs.
"I
would have said fuck that. What do I want with some old coot who's
going to
drop dead on me? There are plenty of fish in the sea. I'll go fall in
love
with some young stud who can keep up with me for a long time. And I
would
have missed out on all the happiness George gave me. Now, I wouldn't
trade
my time with George for anything. But then, why take the risk? That's
why
we don't have fairy godmothers."
"Good point," I answer hoping he's done with this particular flight of
fancy.
But if his increased animation is any indication, Emmett's on a roll.
"Even if I had decided to take the chance, it never would have worked.
Every
day I would have wondered if it was the day George was going to die. I
would
have held back. I would never have let myself love him completely, and
I
wouldn't have appreciated his love. I would have cheated both of us."
He
looks away and falls silent.
"Another strike against fairy godmothers," I reply weakly. Here I am
trapped
in another conversation I have no control over.
"You know what your problem is, Brian?"
"Do you want them listed alphabetically or in order of severity?"
"Your problem is that you listened to your fairy godmother."
"Emmett, exactly how much have you had to drink? I could swear two
minutes
ago you said we don't have fairy godmothers."
He looks at me like I'm the one who's lost my mind. "I'm speaking
figuratively. Of course you don't have a fairy godmother. You don't
need
one because you're too busy being your own fairy godmother."
Now, either I'm totally drunk or I've slipped into some alternative
universe.
I can't think of any other reason Emmett would compare me to a fairy
godmother. "What the fuck are you talking about?" And where the fuck
is Ted
when you need him? How long does it take some loser to jerk off?
"I'm talking about Justin. You listened to the little fairy godmother
voice
in your head that said he would eventually leave you. So you never
gave him
a chance. You were always pushing him away and hurting him. You kept
at it
until he finally did leave you. Then you and your fairy godmother
could say
I told you so. You just had to be right. Exactly where did that get
you and
Justin?" He crossed his arms and looks at me accusingly.
"Right where we are supposed to be-apart," I growl at him. He'd better
understand my warning. Justin is never up for discussion.
"I'll never understand you. Didn't his prom teach you anything?
Didn't
almost losing him make you tell your fairy godmother to fuck off? That
you
weren't going to worry about the future, but instead enjoy every second
you
had with him. Didn't it make you want to hold him tighter and never
let
anything come between you again?"
"Fuck you!" I get up to leave and try to ignore the image of Justin's
broken
body. Emmett grabs my wrist with surprising strength and pulls me back
down
to face him.
"One thing George's death taught me is that life is too short. There's
no
time to worry about what might happen or what people will think. You
have to
grab happiness wherever you find it and to hell with everything else.
So
what if you get hurt later, at least you get some joy along the way.
I'd
give anything for a few more minutes with George, and you throw Justin
away.
Maybe you think it's my own fault for falling in love with an old man.
But
you know better than anyone that youth is no guarantee. So what
happens in
two years or five years when Justin gets hit by a car? Will you stand
at his
grave and thank your fairy godmother for warning you about him? Or
will you
regret every minute you spent apart, will you miss every chance you
should
have had to touch him and laugh with him? Will you remember every
chance you
had to tell him you loved him, but didn't?"
"What does it matter as long as he was happy?" I try to ignore the
pitying
look Emmett gives me.
"I know you happiness means nothing to you so I won't even try to argue
that
point. But what about Justin? You know he loves you. You know he
would do
anything for you. And don't for one minute fool yourself into
believing
he'll be happier away from you. So let's turn the tables. What
happens when
three years from now you die from an accidental overdose? What will
Justin
think when he watches them lower your coffin into the ground? Will he
thank
you for pushing him away? Will he be glad he lost three years with you
because you were afraid he'd leave you in five? I think he'll blame
himself.
He'll feel guilty for leaving you even though we all know that was
your
choice not his. He'll hate himself for missing a second of your life.
He'll
never get past the idea that his weakness cost him all the days he
should
have spent with you. Do you think your death would hurt him less if
you were
apart? Do think losing him would destroy you less if he's not with
you. You
gave up what you had because you were afraid of what might happen. But
it's
not too late. Fix it before it's too late."
This time when I pull away, Emmett doesn't stop me. I look away so he
can't
see what his words have done to me. And finally, I see Ted walking in
the
door. Back under control, I turn to Emmett. "Look, there's Ted. You
can
practice your psycho babble on him now."
Emmett gives me a knowing smile and shakes his head, "Just think about
what I
said."
I walk out without another word. Unfortunately I'm not sure there's
enough
Jim Beam in the world to wipe the picture of Justin's grave from my
mind.
And as much as I don't want to, I can't help wondering if there is
something
to fix.
Hollow Promises (Justin's POV)
I found myself outside the loft with no idea of what to do or where to
go. I
just wanted to forget. I wanted to forget the way Brian looked at me
like he
was desperate for me to understand. I needed to forget that I had
walked
away from Brian again. Once again I'm facing life without Brian. Only
now
it's so much worse. Now I know what I'm losing. But it doesn't matter
because I don't have a choice. The only way to love Brian is to let
him go.
Standing here thinking about it isn't going to change anything. I need
to
go. Somewhere. Anywhere. It's Saturday so I don't have any classes,
and I
took the weekend off from the diner. I could go home, but Debbie and
Vic
would ask too many questions. Debbie knows I was with Brian, and I'm
not
ready to talk about him. Daphne's probably not even up, and she's
nosier
than Debbie anyway.
I end up going to see my mom. She seems like the safest bet since I
can't
imagine her wanting to talk about Brian. I didn't call her yesterday,
and I
know she must be worried. The truth is I guess sometimes you just need
your
mother. I can tell she's happy to see me. She hugs me for a long time
before taking me into the kitchen. Thank God for her natural
inclination to
feed me.
"So where's Molly?" I ask once she has me settled with coffee and
muffins.
"She's with a friend today. Justin, are you sure you're OK? I was so
worried when I didn't hear from you yesterday. What did you do?"
I"m sorry Mom. I know I should have called, but I needed to be by
myself. I
didn't do much. After classes, I just walked around for a while. Then
I
went to a bar and tried to get drunk."
"Tried?"
"Yeah, Brian found me and put an end to that." I can't help smiling.
It
still surprises me that Brian didn't want to drown the memories in
booze
right along with me.
"So you were with Brian last night?" She tries to hide the shock and
fear in
her voice, but I can sense it.
"Mom, it's fine. It was good for both of us. Really. Brian talked to
me
about that night. Other people have tried, but he's the only one who
was
there for all of it. I needed to hear it. I finally felt like it was
real,
like I didn't make the whole thing up." I look at her face for some
sign
that she understands. I don't know if she can, but I need her to.
"But
don't worry, I won't be seeing Brian again. We needed each other last
night,
but it was just that one night. Nothing has changed." I don't know
why I
rushed to reassure that Brian and I are still apart. Maybe in hopes of
avoiding another lecture about him, or maybe to keep reminding myself.
Her face tightens for a moment, but she lets me change the subject. We
talk
about our plans for the summer. Then, out of the blue she asks me,
"Why did
you break up with Ethan?"
Shit! The one person I want to talk about less than Brian. "Mom, I
know you
liked Ethan, but it just wasn't going to work."
"I'm not trying to judge you. I want to know."
"Ethan wasn't who I thought he was, who I hoped he was. He said all
the
right things. He promised me everything I wanted, but he didn't mean
it.
They were just words to him. He was possessive and controlling, and I
didn't
love him." I think that sums it up pretty well. A six-week
relationship
reduced to three or four sentences.
"Do you regret leaving Brian for Ethan?"
"I did not leave Brian for Ethan!" She smiles at my defensiveness, and
I
force myself to relax. "Yes and no. I love Brian, and I miss him. It
bothers me that I couldn't make things work with him. But my leaving
was the
best thing, especially for Brian. He isn't meant to be in a
relationship.
He tried for me, but it wasn't fair to him. Why all this sudden
interest in
Brian?"
"I know I was never very supportive of your relationship. But I am
your
mother, and I want you to be happy. As hard as it is for me to admit,
you
were happy with Brian. When I met Ethan, I thought he was perfect for
you.
I thought he would give you everything you deserved. But you never
really
smiled while you were with him. When you told me about the time you
spent
with Brian last night, there was a look in your eyes you never had when
you
talked about Ethan. So I just think, if there's a chance."
I stare at her in disbelief; I can't help it. My mother, of all
people, is
encouraging me to be with Brian again. I want to be angry. Where was
her
understanding while we were still together? If I thought she would
understand, I might have been able to come to her for advice. Now that
it's
too late, she wants to help. "There's no point in trying again. Brian
and I
aren't meant to be."
"Why? You said you love Brian, and you miss him. Isn't that worth
fighting
for?"
I can't tell her truth; I won't betray Brian like that. Instead I go
for the
easy answer, the one I know will get her off my back. "Brian doesn't
love
me. He never will."
She gives me a sad smile, "You're wrong, Justin. He does love you."
"Mom, have you lost your mind? You've been telling me for years that
Brian
doesn't love me."
"I haven't lost my mind. I'm just trying to face the truth. You know
I
tried to keep Brian away from you. I'm sure you thought it was because
I
blamed him for your being hurt. I tried to believe that, and I even
told
Brian that. But that wasn't the reason. And when I said he didn't
love you,
I knew he did. That's what scared me. Brian was safer when I thought
he
didn't care for you. I figured he'd eventually break your heart, and
you
would move on. Just like Debbie said. I knew Brian couldn't love you
the
way you wanted to be loved. He couldn't give you the life you wanted
and
deserved. But if you saw even the tiniest hint of love from him, you
would
never give up. You would cling to that, and it would give you enough
hope
that you would stay with him no matter what. I didn't want that for
you. I
didn't want you to settle for what Brian could give you."
"I did leave. Just like you wanted me to. But you're wrong, Mom.
Brian
didn't love me." I hope she'll let this go. I don't want to have this
conversation. The wounds from this morning are still too fresh.
"He told me, Justin, and I believed him. When I asked him to leave, he
said
he cared for you. It was as close to an admission of love as I'd
expect from
him. But I already knew. There's something I never told you. I still
think
it's Brian's place to tell you, but that's not the only reason I kept
it a
secret. I didn't want to encourage your attachment to him."
She looks so guilty. I can't imagine what she wants to tell me, and I
don't
want to know. Can't she see this is killing me? "Mom, don't.
Whatever it
is, it doesn't matter. If Brian didn't want me to know, let it go.
It's too
late."
She doesn't acknowledge that I said anything, and I know she's going to
ignore my request for silence. "When you were in the hospital, Brian
came to
see you every night. He'd wait until visiting hours were over and stay
until
morning. The nurses told me he never came into your room or spoke to
you.
He'd just stand by your window and watch you. They said he was broken.
They
said they never saw anyone hurt for another person the way he hurt for
you.
He never missed a single night the whole time you were there. That's
how I
knew he loved you."
I try to breathe, but I can't. Why did she have to tell me? I don't
need
more proof that Brian loved me, and I don't need more proof of how much
that
hurt him. She thinks this will make me feel closer to him, but all it
does
it push me farther away. I want to tell her it was guilt not love, but
I
can't bring myself to say that lie out loud. Brian watched over me
because
he loves me. He wanted to protect me, to make sure I wasn't alone.
But he
stayed outside my room to punish himself. That's where the problem is.
Finally, Mom takes pity on me and breaks the silence.
"Honey, one of the things I always admired about you is your
determination.
When you want something, you go after it, and you never give up. But
sometimes that determination can blind you. You have a vision of what
you
want, and you won't be happy with anything else. Maybe that's what
happened
with Brian. You had a vision of what love would look like. Brian
doesn't
fit into that vision, but it doesn't mean he doesn't love you. If you
could
find a way to see the love he has for you, maybe you could find a way
to be
together. Maybe it is different for two men; I don't know. I know
it's not
the love I wanted to see for you, but it seems like Brian is what makes
you
happy. Ethan offered you all the words you wanted, but you found out
they
were meaningless. Brian might not say he loves you or even show it the
way
you expect, but I know he feels it. Don't worry about what love is
supposed
to be like, and figure out what Brian's love feels like. I can't
believe I'm
saying this, but I think he's worth the trouble. I know you are."
I just shake my head at her. There's nothing to say. As much as I
want to
believe learning to accept Brian's way of loving me would solve our
problems,
I know it won't. It's not what I want or ask for; it's what Brian
wants to
give me but can't. No matter how accepting I am, I can't change the
fact
that Brian feels like loving me is taking something away from him. I
promised him I wouldn't ask that of him. I have to keep that promise,
at
least for a day. I just hope I'm strong enough.
Mom reaches out and touches my face then flashes me the smile I
inherited,
"Forget all this serious discussion. Let's go shopping!"
I smile back at her, relived she's willing to let this go. Shopping is
just
what I need to take my mind off everything. There's nothing I can do
about
it anyway.
Make Up Your Mind For Me (Brian's POV)
The phone wakes me up. I look at the clock before answering. Who the
fuck
would be calling me at three in the morning? I reach the phone just
before
the machine kicks on. "Hello," I mumble.
"Brian, it's Debbie."
"Do you know what fucking time it is?"
"Honey, I don't know how to tell you this."
That's when I notice she sounds like she's been crying. "Did something
happen to Vic?" I pray the answer is no, but I can't imagine what else
could
be wrong.
"No, Vic's fine."
"Michael?"
"No, Michael's fine, and so is Ben."
"Debbie, I'm not going to play twenty questions. What is going on?"
"It's Justin. He was leaving the diner, and this car, it just came out
of
nowhere."
"How badly is he hurt?" I ask her as I'm searching for my clothes. I
have
to go. I have to get to him.
"Brian, he's gone. There was nothing they could do. The doctor said
it was
instant; he never felt a thing."
Her voice fades to a whisper, or I've stopped being able to hear her.
I must
still be breathing, but I don't know how. All I can think is damn
Emmett.
He told me I would lose him. I can't speak so I just hang up the
phone.
Then I unplug it and head for the liquor cabinet.
The days before the funeral pass in a blur. All I remember is silence.
There are so many sounds I will never hear again; I can't bear to think
of
them. Except for work I speak to no one. The phone stays unplugged,
and I
refuse to answer the door. I changed the lock after Lindsay used her
key.
She left when I refused to even look at her. Cynthia was threatened
with
severe bodily harm if she allowed anyone in my office again after I
found
Michael waiting for me. He wisely chose to leave while I was still on
the
phone with security.
And now I stand here in this room with all of them. In this room where
I am
supposed to say goodbye. But I can't. It's already too late. I can't
say
goodbye to someone who's already gone. I can't say anything to him. I
can't
even see him. Closed casket. Too much facial damage or at least
that's what
Deb said in one of the messages she left me. So the last image I have
is of
him walking away. Of him looking at me with all the love I won't
accept and
all the pain I cause, telling me he won't ask me to be strong enough to
love
him. What kind of fucking shit is that? Maybe it's my punishment for
all my
sins. Maybe it's my punishment for being so God damn weak. But why
does he
have to be brought down right along with me?
I can feel their eyes on me, but I won't acknowledge them. It's like
they
don't exist anymore. I didn't even bother to offer my condolences.
Jennifer
probably wouldn't accept them, Molly doesn't know who I am, and I'm
certainly
not going to explain my relationship with him to the rest of his
family. His
father's not even here. Fucking prick. The fiddler made a brief
appearance,
but one look from me and he made a hasty retreat. He doesn't deserve
to
breathe the same air as. Of course, no one can now.
I can feel them moving closer to me. I need to get out of here before
someone touches me or speaks to me, but I can't leave him. I know it's
stupid. He's not here. But I know when I leave this room, I'll never
be
with him again. So I stay and try not to be suffocated by their
concern or
the flowers. So many fucking flowers. His allergies would be giving
him
fits. I didn't send flowers. I'm sure that's another point against
me, but
why bother. I can't give him anything now. I wouldn't give him
anything
when I had the chance.
Someone is speaking now. I don't know who it is so I don't bother
listening.
I'm sure they're talking about how wonderful he was. Telling stupid
little
stories and pretending they knew him. What do they know? Do they know
what
he smells like first thing in the morning? Do they know where he likes
to be
kissed? Do they know that he can look at you and make you think you're
his
whole world? Do they know how brilliant and funny he is? Do they know
what
it's like to look at a piece of paper and see yourself through his
eyes? Do
they know how strong he is? How hard he fought to get his life back?
They
don't know him at all.
Next they'll speak of the tragedy and how deeply they'll be affected by
his
loss. Fuck them. These people probably haven't spoken to him in
years. How
exactly will they feel his loss? Do they look at their lives and see
nothing
but darkness ahead of them? I doubt it. Even Jennifer has Molly to
live
for. I can't see past this room. I can't see anything beyond the
reality of
walking out of here without him. What else is there?
Emmett catches my eye, and I want to strangle him. I want to scream at
him.
Fuck you! How dare you be right?! Losing him this way isn't any
easier
because I already lost him. It is so much worse. Not because of what
I
lost. I'm not ready to think about that. But because of what he lost.
He
never got the words he wanted or the life he wanted. Not because he
didn't
deserve them. But because I was too much of a coward to give them to
him.
All I can think of is everything I cheated him out of.
They tell us it's time to go. It's time to say our final goodbye.
They line
us up to pay our respects. I manage to avoid everyone I know. I try
not to
watch as they file past crying and whispering last words. The closer I
get
the harder it is to breathe. Each step takes me closer to where he is.
Where he lies there silent and still. I can't imagine him like that.
I
cannot do this. I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them
What the fuck? I'm in my loft. What the hell just happened? It
couldn't
have been a dream, could it? I want to believe that, but I'm afraid
to. No
dream, not even the nightmares I had after his prom, has ever been this
real.
There's only one way to know for sure. I reach for the phone.
"Hello?" his sleepy voice greets me.
My heart starts to beat again, and I'm tempted to hang up. But I
don't.
"Justin, are you OK?"
"Brian? It's the middle of the fucking night. Are you drunk?"
"I need to see you." I'm sure it sounds like an odd request, but it's
the
truth. I need to see him for myself. I need to touch him.
"Now?"
"Yes, come to the loft. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
That's as
close as I'll ever come to begging.
"Fine. I'll be there soon," he sighs before hanging up.
I wait for him to get here and wonder what on earth I'm going to say to
him.
I have no idea, but I'm not sure it matters. Right now I just need to
be
with him. And as afraid as I am of letting him back into my life, I'm
more
afraid of living without him.