And her name is bea_nonymous
and once upon a time she did one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for
me...and then she did it again the next weekend.
*****
seven minutes before he leaves
He turned back at the door for only a moment. Brian was naked, face down in
the center of the bed with the orange lights casting a sunset-like glow over
his skin. Justin sucked in a ragged breath and wondered if he’d ever see that
sight again, that exact sight.
Suddenly Brian sat up, aware of being watched even in sleep. His eyes were sleepy
and heavy and his expression was sad, truly sad, for maybe the first time in
his life. Justin imagined that was just how Brian looked when he awoke from
a bad dream as a child. Justin wondered if it was all a dream, if one of them
was on the verge of waking up. But the moment passed, and they were wide awake,
and it was time to go.
seven days after he’s gone
Like a BMW rolling slow through the ghetto, something wasn’t quite right. Justin
stood still in the doorway to his own apartment, ice cream melting in the bag
clutched in his left hand. He was waiting for a window to roll down and the
barrel of a gun to part his lips…or something like that.
In his bedroom the intruder was silent, standing still and taking inventory
of everything he saw. There was a twin bed and a small dresser and some books
on the floor. And a painting, just one, on the far wall. It was of Brian.
Brian walked around to get a closer look at himself. He’d never seen this one
before. Then he moved around to the surfaces, touched a lot of things, picked
up anything his hands could move over. It all smelled like Justin and looked
like him. Brian sucked in a breath and held it. He’d never been in a space that
was Justin’s, only Justin’s.
He turned around abruptly; Justin was standing in the doorway. He leaned heavy
against the jamb, one leg folded over the other and his arms crossed over his
chest.
Brian lifted the key Justin had mailed him two days prior from his pocket and
dangled it in front of his body. It arrived this morning with a note that said
‘use it anytime’. Justin likely hadn’t counted on Brian heading straight to
the airport, getting on the next Manhattan-bound flight and using the key for
the first time at 3 PM on a Thursday exactly one week after Justin had left
Pittsburgh.
Justin shook his head and laughed, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
If this wasn’t proof that Brian Kinney was capable of love, well then the proof
did not exist.
“Well?” Justin sort of smirked, but his insides stirred uneasily. He hadn’t
been ready, not this soon.
Brian sat down heavy on the end of the small bed, “It’s so…you.”
And then Justin climbed into Brian’s lap and felt happy for the first time in
seven days.
seven months down
Justin got his first art show more easily than any twenty one year old should.
But, Justin was hardly any twenty one year old. He called Brian first, and Brian
knew inherently he was the first person on earth that Justin had told. He could
hear the excitement crackle over the phone lines. For the first time since Justin
moved, Brian truly wished they weren’t apart. He wanted to be there for all
the moments in between this one and that one. All the work and frustration and
joy and agony. Brian hated that he would miss all that, all the beautiful, fucked
up parts.
And he did, some things are unavoidable. He showed up on a Friday afternoon
in a suit he bought just for the occasion. He got dropped off at the gallery,
where Justin said he’d be, in a long black limousine that was sleek and classic
if a bit overdone, just like Brian himself.
He followed Justin around all night. He kept a hand on the small of Justin’s
back, the other always balancing a glass of champagne in case Justin got thirsty.
By the end of the night Brian had met more people than he cared to in a lifetime.
He’d glad handed and fake smiled and oohed and aahed in all the right places.
And he’d gotten Justin a little drunk. And made him a lot happy.
They ended up at the Waldorf fucking against the reinforced panes of large south-facing
windows that revealed the most amazing view Justin had ever seen of New York
City.
seven years and counting
Justin finds him standing in the middle of the kitchen, eating cherry tomatoes
out of plastic container. He mindlessly pops them into his mouth and takes a
swig from a bottle of water ever third or fourth tomato. Justin marvels at the
small, perfectly round, brilliant red fruit as it disappears between his perfect
lips, one after another after another.
Justin smiles, Brian probably eats cherry tomatoes in the middle of the night
the way other people gorge on cold pizza or ice cream. He probably feels like
it’s his dirty little secret. But, Justin doesn’t know. He’s been gone a long
time. There’s a lot he doesn’t know.
Justin clears his throat and Brian startles, though barely. Brian’s eyes going
wide with shock is like anyone else screaming and running for their life.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he looks down at his own naked body and back
up at Justin. He takes in Justin’s blue turtle neck and leather coat and luggage.
“Sorry,” Justin drops the duffle on his shoulder next to the larger bag beside
him and crosses the room.
He dangles the new keys that Brian mailed him last week (along with the new
alarm code – there’d been an attempted break in and Brian’s anal nature required
an entirely new security system and all new locks on the house).
Brian smiles and grabs at Justin’s arm when he’s within reach.
“Didn’t know you’d be using those so soon,” Brian kisses him and doesn’t seem
to mind the surprise.
Justin pulls away, already breathless. It’s been six months and he’s been aching
for this familiarity. “The note said to use them anytime.”
Justin wondered if Brian remembered his note from so many years ago. He’s too
smart to believe the word choice was merely coincidence.
“And I meant that,” Brian kisses him again. The last time they’d seen each other
was at Justin’s latest opening. Justin had to leave for Paris that same night
and things between them had been strained.
“Good,” Justin backs off a bit, but keeps a hold on Brian’s wrists, “Because
I was thinking.”
Brian cuts him off, he can already see it in Justin’s eyes. “Stay as long as
you like.”
Justin nods, he feels warm inside.
They have sex against the stainless steel countertop. Justin’s hands scramble
to grab on when Brian pushes in too fast. The tomatoes fall and roll like marbles
over the stone floor. Justin smashes one with his right foot just to feel the
explosion. It’s the only thing he has control over.
Brian chants stay like a mantra, a plea, and when they come Justin answers
yes, yes, yes, yes and knows, even with all the time and distance, Brian
understands him still.
Later, in a bed that’s different from when Justin was here a year ago, they
talk for the first time in hours and only because fucking for a fifth time might
kill them both.
Justin’s head lays heavy on Brian’s chest. Brian plays with the soft, blond
hair that tickles his nipple. Justin sighs, “Is it ridiculous to say that New
York has become boring compared to you?” Justin’s eyes are closed and his voice
is sleepy.
Brian slowly closes his eyes and thinks. This boy, this man, thinks he’s more
exciting than the best fucking city in the entire fucking world. The boy that’s
changed his life. Made his life.
Brian opens his eyes finally, just as slowly, and exhales. “It is ridiculous,”
and then he pushes Justin from his chest and moves down next to him until their
faces are a half inch apart and Brian pitches his voice real low, “But that
doesn’t mean it isn’t fucking true.”
And they kiss. They kiss like they’ve always kissed, lips lined up just right
and tongues intersecting and overlapping and touching in all the right places.
Just wet enough, but not too wet; deep, but never deep enough; long enough to
take their breath away, but leaving them wanting a little more.
Feedback to throughthelens78@yahoo.com