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8 - Just Say Yes
Brian and Justin’s POV
Rated PG-13
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Justin
‘Just say yes’, three little letters strung together into a simple little word.
It’s easy to say, it’s easy to hear. It often makes people happy. It might make
him happy. Say it, say it, say it…fucking say it.
Why can’t I say it? Why won’t I say it? Do I still have some subconscious need
to hurt him with unsaid words like he did me for such a long time? I want him
there. There is no doubt in my mind that not a single other person on the planet
would have to show up to see my show as long as Brian does. But, why do I have
to be the one to want him there? Why can’t he just be there without me asking?
“Come, if you want.” The words tumble out of my mouth quickly and awkwardly
as I pick up a bleach-soaked rag and wipe the counter down next to where his
arm rests.
His eyes move quickly, darting back and forth across my averted face, making
a very real effort not to show emotion. It’s something I’m learning, keeping
everything inside, but have not yet mastered.
He picks up his briefcase and throws money on the counter. Fuck. That wasn’t
what he wanted to hear. I know how he feels.
Why should I care? I do. Whether or not I should is a moot point.
“Brian…,” his eyes raise to meet mine. My little pair of blue tattle-tales now
reveal everything, betraying me with every passing second.
“What?” His eyebrow arches in that annoyed, ‘what-the-fuck-can-I-do-for-you’
way he uses when someone pesters him.
“Nothing…it’s just, well the show…it starts at 7.”
He nods, very slightly and turns to walk away. My breath catches in my chest,
it threatens to scream out after him, ‘Yes! Yes I want you. I’ve always wanted
you. Nothing but you. Always you.’ But, I say nothing. I just watch as Brian
walks away from me. I contemplate the irony.
Brian
Come the fuck on, kid. We’ve gotten this far. We made nice. We played the forgive
and forget game. I’ve gotten my ass up really fucking early twice a week for
months now to create some sort of…I don’t know…bond or whatever the fuck you
want to call it. Now all I’m asking is if you want me at your fucking art show.
Simple question with a, I should hope, simple answer.
“Come, if you want.” The words hang in the air and repeat themselves in my brain
over and over and over. I guess nothing between Justin and I has ever been simple.
Watching him clean a place on the counter a million times over that wasn’t dirty
to begin with, I sigh with utter defeat. I can taste the anger and humility
on my tongue. I can smell the sadness and regret between us. I have to believe
he wants me, at the show I mean. He just can’t, or won’t, tell me. Maybe the
cat’s got his tongue? Wonder where he picked up that bad habit?
Justin
The diner door swings shut and the bell dings, announcing that Brian Kinney
has left the building. But, he’s far from gone. He’s all over me, inside every
inch of me. He never fucking leaves.
My face drains of color as I reach out and grip the countertop with my free
hand. From across the room, Deb immediately notices something is amiss. Her
eyes move from my ghost-white face to the back of Brian’s head as it walks down
the sidewalk, away from the diner.
Buzzing up to me and removing the pot of coffee from my shaking hand she says
quickly, “What did that little fucker say to you?”
I shake my head, but no words come out.
“Oh Sunshine, what happened?” Her eyes are wide and her tone is one of genuine
concern. Isn’t it always though? It’s something I love and hate all at the same
time.
“Nothing…it was nothing.”
She grabs my chin and forces me to look her in the eye. Why do I feel like an
eternal 12 year old around Debbie? “Don’t ‘nothing’ me mister. What the fuck
did he say?”
I sigh, this is a battle that I lost before it ever began. “He asked me if I
wanted him to come to my art show opening.”
She cuts me off before I can finish my story, “That’s wonderful! What the heck
are you upset about, sweetie? That’s a step in the right direction.”
A look of utter confusion on my face, I study her wise face for a moment. “Is
it?”
“Well, it surely seemed that way. If Brian Kinney isn’t what you want, then
you’ve got the whole world fooled.”
I blink my eyes a few times, letting the heavy lids fall closed for a few seconds
longer than normal. I half-shrug and shake my head a little, “It changes everyday.
Some mornings he’s in here and we’re talking and I can’t imagine him not being
the one…the only person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with. But
other days I’m thinking about how it was the first time and why I left and what
he put me through, and what I put him through, and I can’t bear the thought
of doing it all again. I just don’t think I’m strong enough, Deb. We’d rip each
other to shreds. I know we would. And I wouldn’t survive the second time around.”
“Love hurts, darlin’. All any of us can do is find someone who’s worth the pain
and go for it. So just ask yourself if Brian is worth it, really worth it, and
give yourself an honest answer.”
I nod as she pulls me in for a suffocating hug. Then she buzzes off to help
her tables and it’s like she was never there. But her words, ‘love hurts’ echo
in my mind, confirming her presence.
Brian
In line at Starbucks, waiting for my triple non-fat latte, I think about the
headache-inducing decision I have to make. I can go to his fucking art show,
even though he didn’t even really ask me, and see what happens. Take that risk.
Or, I could not go. I could let him hate me for doing exactly what he expects
me to do…wuss out.
Fuck him and fuck this and FUCK that is some hot coffee. Shit, I just burned
my tongue. Now my cell phone is ringing. I have a fucking headache. This day
is going to suck ass.
“What?”
“Ah, we sound chipper and happy to be alive today.”
“Jesus, this is exactly what I need, my favorite British prick. Can I help you?”
“Just checking in. How are things?”
“Can we do this pathetic best friends routine later? I’m late for work, I just
burned the fuck out of my tongue and I’ve had a for shit morning.”
“Hmm. It’s Tuesday.”
“Oh! Christ! It’s Tuesday. Fuck, now I know why my world is amiss. Thank you,
Captain Obvious.”
“You’re so damn caustic I’m getting acid burns through the fucking telephone,
Brian.”
“You got something that’ll take the edge off? My dealer’s fucking out of town.”
“What happened with Justin?”
“What do you mean?”
“Can we not beat around the bush for 20 minutes before you tell me the truth
today? I have a meeting in a few minutes.”
“Nothing…I just. Fuck. He said. Well I asked.”
“Articulate today, aren’t we? Maybe you should have that tongue checked out.”
“Know any hot doctors in the greater Pittsburgh area?”
“Out with it.”
“I asked him if he wanted me to come to this stupid art exhibit he’s having
at school and he didn’t give me a straight answer. He doesn’t care if I go or
not.”
“Should he care if you go to his ‘stupid’ art show?”
“What? Yes! And I didn’t mean…”
“I know you didn’t mean anything, you never do. That’s the problem. Maybe he
wants to hear that you want to be there. Maybe he doesn’t want to have to ask
you. Maybe he wants you to take some fucking initiative.”
“Initiative?! You wanna fucking talk about initiative? Who the fuck has been
eating greasy diner food for fucking months just to be near the kid? Who’s been
making small talk and being friendly and putting up with the agonizingly slow
pace with which this little reconciliation is CRAWLING along? Huh? Oh yeah,
ME!”
“Brian, shut up. Go to the show. Make a statement. It’s time.”
Justin
I finished the rest of my morning shift on autopilot. In fact, I finished the
rest of the day that way. When I finally got home, long after the sun had disappeared,
I greeted my mom with a fake smile.
“What’s wrong?” Christ, I seriously need to work on this hiding your emotions
shit. Maybe Brian could give me lessons. I don’t think I can afford them though.
“Nothing.”
“Sweetie…”
“I’m fine.”
“Deb called me.”
“Christ.”
“What’s going on?”
“Do we have to talk about this now?”
“No. You can go up to your room and let it drive you crazy.”
I sigh. She’s right. Aren’t they always? I sit down at the kitchen table and
she instinctively puts water on to boil. As if a cup of tea will alter my
outlook in any way. Chamomile is not the solution to my problems.
“Brian’s just…he’s…well…he’s Brian. And I’m me. And we don’t work. Or we didn’t.
And I don’t think we will now. I just don’t have faith in us. I don’t know how
to.”
“But, you still love him?”
“I do. I do in ways that surprise me and make me insane and make me feel things
that I know I’ll never feel for another person as long as I live. I’m so sure
of that it scares me and keeps me up at night.”
“Oh, honey. You’ll love other people. Lots of them, just as much as you do
Brian.”
I whisper into my tea, “No, I won’t.” Somehow I know that’s true. I’ve spent
sleepless nights and long walks and hours in my studio contemplating just that.
That one little question. Will I ever love anyone as much as I love Brian? And
no matter how many times I ask, no matter what mood I’m in, no matter what he’s
done to me or said to me, I always have the exactly same answer. No.
I get up from the table and kiss my mom on the cheek. She wants to help, but
she can’t. No one can. Brian and I are the only ones traveling down this road.
It’s too bad we can’t make the journey together. The road is so rough when you
go it alone.
I fall into my bed like I haven’t slept in days. My eyelids feel so heavy and
suddenly I can’t even get up to undress myself. In seconds, my breathing is
steady and I can feel sleep creeping up my body. Then the phone rings. I sit
straight up, wildly startled by the noise. I reach out to the nightstand and
grab the phone before I have to listen to that shrill noise again.
“Hello?”
Nothing…
“Hello?” Whoever woke me up better start talking.
“Justin…” My heart jumps into my throat, nearly choking me. It’s Brian.
“Hey.” I try to sound casual, but it comes out anything but.
“Hey.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. Were you sleeping?”
“Uh, no.”
“Yes you were.”
“Maybe, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know if you were sleeping?”
“I mean I guess I was, I just laid down.”
”Justin, it’s not even 8 o’clock.”
“I’m fucking tired, what do you care?”
“I just…”
“You just wanted me to be awake so you could fuck with my head?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Fuck you, sleepy.”
“Fuck you, grumpy.”
“Justin…”
“Brian…”
“About today…”
“Weather was nice.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
“I
want to come.”
“Come to what?”
“Don’t be a shit.”
“Then come. I want you to.” For the first time in our very bizarre
conversation, I’m quiet and honest. I want him there, he knows it. If he wants
to hear it, fine. I’m not going to beg, but I’ll come close.
“You do?”
“Don’t be coy. I’m too tired.”
“Okay. What time does it start?”
“Like you don’t already have it scheduled in your Palm Pilot.”
“Shut up.” I can hear the smile creep into his voice. This feels so good. I
don’t ever want him to hang up. I can’t remember the last time I was on the
phone with Brian. It feels like a lifetime. Just his voice…the sound of his
voice, it does something to me.
“Seven. It’s at seven. Come when you can.”
“Oh, I always come when I can.”
“And often when you shouldn’t.”
There’s a pregnant pause and I know he’s reading more into my retort than I
intended. I want to take it back. I find myself looking for a rewind button
floating through the air.
“So I guess I’ll see you.”
“I hope you will.”
“Goodnight, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Brian?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t go yet.”
“What? Why?”
“Just don’t hang up yet.”
“Justin…”
“Just another minute.”
“Come over.”
“What?” My heart jumps impossibly further up into my throat.
“I won’t ask again.”
Have you ever been asked a question that’s answer could change your life? Have
you ever stood at a crossroads knowing the right decision, but wanting to make
the wrong one? Have you ever had a minute slow down and drag on for an hour as
you watch parts of your life replay themselves? Have you ever been so sure of
something that it made you doubt yourself?
Brian
I can’t believe I fucking asked him to come over. I can’t believe he’s making
me wait for an answer. I can’t believe I’m fucking worried about what it will
be.
Just say ‘yes’ Justin…Just. Say. ‘Yes.’
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