He’s
alive. They’re both alive.
I
know I should be happy. And I am…
sort of. It’s complicated.
I know they say I’m not very perceptive, and it’s true, I’m not.
Or at least, not where most things are concerned.
But there’s one thing that I know I know.
And that’s Brian. We’ve been best friends for more than sixteen years, I know
him like the back of my hand. He
likes to think he’s mysterious, that he’s imperceptible, an enigma on
Liberty Avenue - a legend. But
really he’s not, an enigma that is. Not when I know him as well as I do.
Brian.
You know, before Justin came along, whenever Brian Kinney was mentioned,
one automatically thought of me – Michael Novotny. Well all right, my name
only came up after ‘the Greatest Fuck in History’, or ‘Stud of
Liberty Avenue’, or possibly, ‘Asshole Extraordinaire’ – but that’s
only when it’s Ma, Emmett, Ted, or Mel. My
point is, my name was the first name that came up when one thought of
Brian Kinney. But not anymore, not
since Justin. Never since Justin. And
I know, that in Brian’s own special Kinney way, he liked it, hell he still
likes it – even if now it’s ‘He was Dumped by that Justin Kid Right?’ Shit. I guess he
just likes the fact that his name is eternally connected with Justin’s.
Though, bets are, he’ll never admit that.
I
remember, after the Rage Party, Brian sort of went into ‘Pain Management
Mode’. He must have fucked the
entire population of Pittsburgh’s queers twice during that period!
It was awful. He closed up to everyone, even me… he became a full time
fuck machine. But I was nothing if
not persistent, and eventually one night, I got him to talk, to express his
feelings… in his special Kinney way. And
now, I sort of wish I hadn’t been so pushy, so anxious to get him to tell me
stuff, because it sucks. It sucks to know what he’s really feeling.
It sucked to see him the way he was.
It sucks to know that it was, in part, my fault.
It just plain sucked, sucks, and probably will suck for a long time yet.
I
had insisted on driving him home from one of our Babylon nights.
He was fucking out of it, in no condition to drive.
But he was also in one of his moods that was becoming more and more
frequent, so it took a great deal of spitting on my part to get him in the
passenger seat. Anyway, we got to the loft… and instead of going to bed
like any normal wasted person; he went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of
Beam. Now, that entire day and
night, and also the day before that, and the day before that, I had been
pestering him about… well him. So
anyway, when it looked like he wasn’t going to put down the Beam no matter
what I said, I started to ask him questions again.
Questions that I knew would shit him.
I
guess I asked one too many that night, because Brian… lost it.
He came up to me; forehead pressed against mine, and whispered, “You
want to know what’s wrong? Fine Mikey. Fine.” Then, he fucking went psycho.
He started smashing anything and everything that was smashable.
The Beam bottle was first; he smashed it right by my ear. It was so loud. Fuck. I
was shitting myself. And all the
time that he was smashing, he was yelling.
And me? I sort of just stood
there, still in shock, watching my best friend fall apart in front of me, or at
least as much as Brian Kinney can, and will, allow himself to fall apart.
After a good twenty minutes, he finally calmed down, flopped down on his
bed, and promptly fell asleep. We
never mentioned that night again.
Afterwards,
everything gradually went back to normal, as in before Justin.
Or at least that was what Brian had us all believe.
And fuck I’m ashamed to admit that I did believe him, at least at first
I did. He never gave me reason otherwise. Anyway, it was that night at Woody’s, when we found out
about Justin and his fiddler, that I started to see how much Brian still cared
for him. When Ma came to (thank God!) and told us about Daphne’s call, we all
sort of sat around and stared at her for a moment.
I was positive I hadn’t heard her correctly; I mean she had been crying
just before, and was still getting a hold of her breathing, so her speech
wasn’t very clear – and it was not as if we’d expected Justin to be in a
night club that got bombed, a night club in fucking Austria to be precise! I
mean, we didn’t even know he was in Europe, I didn’t even know he was
in Europe… and I’m supposed to be his business partner! Anyway, it took us a
while, lots of questioning, lots of phone calls, before it became clear that
well… that well… Fuck! I can’t even fucking say it without having a
fucking nervous breakdown. I mean, I wasn’t even that close to the kid!
Shit,
I’m drifting off. What I’m trying to say is that Brian, he – he still
acted like an asshole. You know, when the news hit us, and I mean truly hit
us… the only ones who were calm were Brian and Ben (or at least they appeared
to be), and thank God for Ben, because Brian buggered off to Babylon pretty much
straight away. At times like these,
I truly appreciate how wonderful Ben is, I know he’s not perfect, he’s human
after all, but he’s God Damn pretty close to being perfect!
So yeah, I was pretty pissed off at Brian, he wasn’t returning any of
my calls, and he wasn’t at the bloody loft either, or if he was, he wasn’t
answering, and to be frank, I hadn’t the time to be worrying about him,
besides, it wasn’t as if he was very effected by the news.
I guess I just didn’t think… Anyway, the day that Mrs. Taylor was due
to call, we were all waiting at Ma’s, I was beyond pissed at Brian, along with
everyone else in the room. But, he
called, my cell that is, and it was lucky that he rang while I was in the
bathroom, because I have a feeling the call was meant for me and only me.
He was really quiet, and the call was really short, he didn’t give me
room to say anything much.
“Mikey,
Mikey, Mikey,” He said to me, “I can bag in you. I can always bag in you - you’re dependable. Why’d you
have to be so fucking dependable? You
know, have I ever told you how much I like Ben?
Ben’s a great guy Mikey, and not only a great fuck, he’s dependable,
like you. You’re dependable,
he’s dependable, Deb’s dependable, Vic’s dependable, Linds’ dependable,
even the fucking Nellie Queen is dependable! Everyone is fucking dependable.
I should feel so God Damn lucky shouldn’t I? Surrounded by such
dependable assholes? Well, this is your test Mikey, are you truly dependable?”
And then he hung up.
I
knew then. It was like a sudden,
God Damn epiphany, all of a sudden I understood.
And that’s why the news of them both surviving isn’t exactly
making me want to throw a party. Shit,
is it too terrible to say I had hoped and wished that the fiddler would… would
just fucking disappear? Or… if he couldn’t, then maybe they could both
disappear. Because now I know.
Brian does give a shit, in his own way he does, and fuck, I am not going
to let this turn into a replay of the bashing.
I am not.
