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9 - Optical Illusion
Brian and Justin’s POV
Rated PG
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Justin
“No.”
There is silence and then a click. That indistinguishable noise the telephone
makes when someone hangs up on you. He didn’t give me a chance to explain. He
doesn’t want to hear it. I'm so fucking tired of playing the game by Brian’s
rules. It’s what I’ve been trying to change. Can’t he see that?
I’m shocked by my own answer. I stare at the receiver in my hand as the dial
tone begins to blare. I can’t hang up. I can’t move. I can’t do anything. I
want to call him back. I want to tell him I was an idiot. I want to just show
up over there and beg for him to let me in. But, I also want to blow him off
and fuck with his head and never give in.
Brian doesn’t know how to hear “No.” It isn’t a word people use with him. Not
since his parents anyway. He’s spent his adult life surrounding himself with
people who always say “Yes.” I was one of those people for a long time.
I finally hang up the phone and lay back down in bed. I know he won’t come to
the art show now. He might not even come to the diner any more. Fuck, what have
I done?
Brian
Fuck. Did I just hear…? Holy shit! That little fucker said "No."
I hang up the phone before I say something I’ll regret. Mostly I’m afraid I’ll
beg him. Or I might yell at him. Tell him how tired I am of fucking waiting
for him to let me in. Has everyone on the fucking planet forgotten that he was
the one who broke all of the rules? He was the one who was fucking the fiddler
behind my back. He was the one who walked out on me. Not the other way around.
I’m the bad guy, the evil villain, the one in black (thank God I look good in
black.) I’m the guy everyone loves to hate. It’s fine; the role suits me. But,
just for once I’d like people to overlook my unwavering history as an asshole
and take a look at the fucking truth. I took the kid in, TWICE. I let him change
my life. I let him change me. I let him create this list of rules and define
the parameters of our ridiculous little “relationship” and then…and this beats
all…I fucking agreed to them.
I follow them even though I know they’ll change my life. I follow them even
though I know it isn’t a good idea. I follow them even when I know he isn’t.
I fucking follow them to this very fucking day because for some insane reason
I can’t stop.
Fuck him. I don’t need this shit. I don’t need the drama. He can save it for
the next fiddler…and undoubtedly there will soon be another one. One day he’ll
realize that leaving me was the dumbest thing he ever did and by then…by then,
I’ll be long gone.
Who the fuck am I kidding?
Justin
I lay awake all night thinking about why I said ‘no’ to Brian and asking myself
whether it was the right thing to do. In the end, I really don’t know if it
was the “right” thing…but then again I don’t know if we were ever “right” so
that isn’t the issue. All I know is that I felt I had to say it. I have to show
Brian that IF we ever do this again it has to be about us, about me and him.
Not about the sex and the wanting and neediness. It has to be about a shared
admiration. It fucking has to be about love. No matter how much he loathes that
word.
At the diner I wonder if Brian will show up, even though I know he won’t. It’s
Friday, he usually meets the gang today and throws me little glances across
the room and smiles when no one is looking. Today Michael, Ben, Ted and Emmett
all sit at their usual booth and banter, each commenting on where Brian might
be.
“I’m sure he just had to be at work early,” Michael insists. Always assuming
innocence where Brian is concerned.
“Yeah fucking right. He stayed up all night with a couple of hot tricks and
can’t be bothered to drag his sore ass out of bed a few minutes early to dine
with the commoners,” Emmett’s tone is amused, but somehow quite serious. He
might not be entirely incorrect.
“Whatever, he probably finally got tired of gracing us with his royal presence
and found a new breakfast club. Good riddance.” Ted’s tone is so drab I want
to puke. As much as I love his good heart, the attitude is enough to depress
even the happiest person…even Debbie.
I approach the table with more coffee and wait for Ben to add his two cents,
but he doesn’t. He smiles knowingly and when I top off his cup, he touches my
hand. It’s brief and no one notices, no one but me. His eyes say it all. He’s
the only fucking person who gets it. He’s the only fucking person at this table
who sees the sadness in my eyes, the slump in my walk and the empty space at
this booth and puts two and two together. Sometimes I wish Ben were single.
The guys finally finish their breakfast and head out. They all smile and nod
and wave goodbye. None of them has a fucking clue that I passed up the chance
to be with Brian last night. No one knows that ‘little Justin’ stood his ground
for once - well this is actually the second time, I suppose - and resisted the
greatest temptation of them all. I want to scream after them, “I didn’t fuck
Brian last night!” But, they’d all look at me like I needed a room with padded
walls and some sedation. That’s not far from the truth.
On
Friday, I left the diner earlier than I normally do to get down to the gallery
on campus. The pain about being in a student art show is that it’s student-run
and you have to hang your own work. I knew I’d need most of the day to place
all of the pieces seeing as I’m a perfectionist who’s never satisfied.
Brian
I don’t know why, but I felt like shit when I woke up this morning. Sure, I had
my fair share of Jim before I hit the sack last night, but that was it. For me
a night free of tricking and backrooms and mind-altering substances is a tame
one. I have no clue why my head feels so heavy. All right, well I have some
idea…
I called Cynthia and told her I’d be working from home today. And I will
actually work. I’ve never had any self-discipline problems when it comes to
that sort of thing. But, I just didn’t feel like picking out clothes and taking
a shower and putting on the dog-and-pony show for Vance today. I just needed a
little solitude.
I’m busy enjoying that solitude when I hear someone practically bang my door
down. I don’t know who it is or how they got into the building in the first
place, but I am not getting up to fucking answer it. No one knows I’m here and
I’d like to keep it that way.
The knocking continues…
“Brian! I know you’re fucking in there. Come on! Answer the fucking door!”
Maybe if I wait just a little longer…
She’s much quieter when she adds, “I brought chocolate cake.”
With a little hesitation, but not much I’m sad to say, I slide the door open
and let her in.
“It’s probably not as good as your mom’s but I thought you might like…” I stop
her and take the cake and plant a kiss on her cheek. It’s probably better than
my mom’s and it means more coming from Debbie. She’s the closest I’ll ever get
to having a good mother.
“So what brings you to the right side of the tracks?”
“Could be the wrong side, considering…”
“Considering what?”
“What do you want with Sunshine?”
“Huh?”
“You heard me, Brian.”
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Cynthia is so dead.” I growl to no one in particular.
“I practically had to beat it out of her Brian, don’t get upset! Jesus! Now,
back to Sunshine.”
“The kid has a name…” I trail off. I have nothing else to say.
“Don’t think I haven’t seen you two talking in the diner every fucking morning
and I’ve seen the way he’s looking at you again. More importantly, I’ve seen
the way you’re looking at him again. Then suddenly, you don’t come in this
morning. Justin’s sad and moping. Won’t talk about it. Says nothing is wrong. I
say bullshit! What the fuck did you do?”
“Yes, it’s always me.” I sigh as I grab my half-gone bottle of JB off the
counter and head for the couch. I sit down with a thud and unscrew the cap. The
bottle is yanked from my hand before it gets anywhere near my lips. I so need
to be drunk to have this conversation. Fuck.
“It usually IS you, Brian! I have intimate experience with this thanks to your
twisted, albeit loving, relationship with my son! I think I know a thing or two
about what the Kinney-induced blues look like.”
I nod, which she apparently takes as a cue to continue. “I watch you both and I
see how fucking crazy you are about each other. But, I also know how crazy you
make each other. When you first pushed him out of here I thought you were nuts,
but then I realized it was the smartest thing for both of you. Now, I can’t
tell you how to live your life or who to love. But, I will tell you to shit or
get off the pot, kid! If you’ve decided you do love him and need him, fucking
tell him. But, if you want to ride the roller coaster again and get your
jollies from the mind-fuck of it all, then forget it. He deserves a hell of a
lot better than that.”
All I can do is whisper a half-hearted, “I know.”
“Okay, you know. So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Great, Brian. That’s just great.”
“It’s complicated. No one gets it. Least of all me.”
“Well UNcomplicate it. You both make mountains out of molehills. Life is hard
and so is love, but we all get through it. You either do love him or you don’t.
Which is it?”
“Life is not black and white. Neither is love.”
Exasperated,
she throws her hands in the air, “Christ kid! I don’t know how Mikey’s been
friends with you for this long. I would have bashed my head against a brick
wall long ago. You are one frustrating fucker.”
“So I hear…”
“Well, I’ll leave you to your moping since I’ve said my piece. But, just know
this…”
She waits until I meet her eye to finish, “If you decide it’s what you want,
then go for it. None of this half-assed bullshit. Jump in head first. He’ll
keep you afloat. No worries about drowning. Okay?”
I nod again. For having said so little I feel completely drained. I think
Debbie sucks all the life out of every room that she’s in; she needs it all for
herself.
Justin
A little before seven, I run home to my mom’s to shower and change. She talks
to me about the show and how excited I must be and asks about my day, but I
don’t hear a word. I pick out gray pants that Brian bought me and then a cream
shirt that he got to go with them. I realize the only good clothes I own are
those he’s picked out. I wonder if he’ll show up? I wonder if he’ll notice the
clothes?
I make my way back to the gallery before the reception starts, grab a glass of
punch and some appetizers from the table. I nervously mingle with other
students and comment on people’s work, but only if I actually like it.
I read in the program that at 8pm in the courtyard, Ethan will be playing two pieces
he composed. I decide quickly and easily that I should go and listen.
Pacing the length of the hall where all of the visual arts students work
appears, my eyes dart from the first entrance to the second. It’s convenient
for me that Brian would have to come in one of these two sets of doors, both of
which are right off the hallway where my work is being displayed.
Nice people make comments about my drawings, even though they aren’t back to
the place I’d like them to be. I don’t think I’ll ever draw like I did before
the bashing. The thought is fleeting, but painful.
A man in his 40s stops to talk to me about my computer-generated works. He asks
about the hardware and software I’m using to produce the pieces. At first I
think he’s implying that my “art” isn’t actually “art”, but then he shows
interest in purchasing a piece from me and hands me his card. He holds my hand
for a moment longer than is necessary and when I meet his eyes it becomes clear
that he wants more than my artwork. I stick the card in my pocket and thank him
as I check my watch. It’s a minute past 8, still no sign of Brian, and it’s
time for me to go see Ethan.
I’ve run into Ethan a few times on campus and each time it gets easier. About a
month ago, I actually got up the balls to ask how he was. I thought I saw anger
flash behind his eyes after the question was asked, but then his face softened
and he quietly told me that he was okay.
Standing at the back of the crowd, I watch as he positions his violin under his
chin and lets his eyes drift closed. For the next twenty minutes everyone in
the courtyard is captivated by his passion and intensity, just as I was not so
long ago. Watching him rock and swing and move his bow a mile a minute, I
immediately recall what drew me to him. In a way, I’m sad I didn’t meet Ethan
at another time in my life; at a time when my heart didn’t belong to someone
else. Of course, I’m kidding myself if I believe it will ever belong to anyone
but Brian. The notion is ridiculously romantic, painfully sad and incredibly
true all at the same time.
When Ethan’s set is done, I applaud with the crowd and slip back into the
building. After everything that happened, I felt completely in the wrong when
it came to Ethan and me. As a result, I work hard to minimize his discomfort in
all situations.
My face lights up with genuine surprise when he waltzes over to where I’m
standing next to my own artwork.
He drags his feet a little as he gets close, “Hey.”
“Hey.” I smile warmly, hoping that he realizes I’m truly glad he’s come over to
talk to me. Then I add, “You were amazing. I know you know that, but I need to
say it.”
His face changes a bit as he relaxes, “Yes, I was. But, thank you very much
anyway.” His cocky attitude is still a huge turn on.
He looks at the wall I’m leaning against, which holds ten of my latest pieces.
“They’re wonderful. But, no surprise there either.”
I blush a little, much more unsure of my greatness than Ethan is. “Thanks.
They’re all right.”
“Better than all right. You know that. So who’s here to see your stuff?”
“My mom and Molly are wandering around somewhere. Daphne’s supposed to pop in.
That’s it.” I stare as he processes the information and I know what’s coming
before he even opens his mouth.
“And Brian?”
I blush again, this time out of embarrassment. My pale, easily-flushed skin
gives everything away. My humbleness, my eagerness, my passion, my
embarrassment. I can hide very little; perhaps it’s a virtue.
I shrug as nonchalantly as possible, “Don’t know.”
“So you didn’t ask him or you just don’t know?”
I swallow hard, “I just don’t know.”
Brian
I roll on my side and look through the windows to see that night has fallen. I
sit up abruptly and wonder how long I’ve been asleep. How the fuck did I let
myself fall asleep? I had so much fucking work I needed to get done today. Fuck
this, I should have gone to work. Dragging myself off the bed, I stagger to the
bathroom in a post-nap haze. I’m only half way through peeing when realization
strikes. Holy shit! What fucking time is it?
I run back out into the bedroom and grab my alarm clock. I struggle to focus on
the hands and silently curse myself for thinking a digital clock was tacky and
obnoxious. I finally see that the clock reads 8:33pm. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
Okay, so it has to be the irony of all ironies that I would sit on my couch in
a Jim Beam stupor all afternoon (oh yeah, that’s why I feel asleep; it’s all
coming back to me now) figuring out what I wanted with Justin and then when I
figure it out I go and fuck it up before I even get out of the starting gate.
He won’t forgive me if I don’t show up to this art thing.
I woke up this morning horny and pissed off at the stunt he pulled last night.
But, after my impromptu chat with Deb and a little contemplation on my part I
realized that maybe what he did was fair. Maybe saying ‘no’ to me is Justin’s
only way of gaining some control. I’m sure he had his reasons. It pissed me
off, but I know he wasn’t doing it to be a dick.
Cursing myself for sleeping practically all the way through his art show, I
jump in and out of the shower in record time. I grab a gray turtleneck, black
pants and my black leather jacket. The fall air is crisp and I need to look
avant-garde if I’m going to be hanging out with the art idiots tonight.
Pulling my shoes on, I check my watch and see that I have 10 fucking minutes
until the show is over. They won’t all rush out right at 9, will they?
I hop in the Jeep and hit the interstate heading toward PIFA. I suddenly
realize I’m acting like some lovesick idiot out of a bad 80s movie that has to
make it to the airport on time or he’ll lose the love of his life. Like you
can’t pick up a fucking phone after they get to whatever imaginary
international destination they purported to be heading? Whatever…
I swing into the lot and my tires screech my arrival to a group of pedestrians.
Always did like to make an entrance. I circle the lot, trying to get a close
spot when I see him. That unmistakable blond head is coming out of the
building. I actually hear myself sigh as I realize I didn’t miss him.
Pulling toward the curb a little so I can jump out and get his attention, I
look back over to where he’s standing and I see it…
Justin and the fiddler are fucking smiling and laughing and touching. My
stomach has never been so far up my fucking throat in my life. The way the
sensation of seeing them together grips me; I want to scream and kick and punch
someone. I don’t do jealous, but this has to look a hell of a lot like it.
Peeling away from the curb, I race toward the parking lot exit, nearly wiping
out a few future artists of America on my way. Back on the interstate I miss
the exit to the loft. I just keep driving. No clue where I’m going or what I’m
doing. Just hating myself for being wrong about Justin, again.
Justin
Ethan and I have a really good talk that makes me feel warm inside. I know we
won’t be best friends, but just knowing that he’s doing well and doesn’t hate
me is such a nice feeling. It’s selfish that I want him to be okay so I can
sleep better at night, but that’s just how I feel.
When he asks what I’m doing after the show I tense up. He realizes immediately
that I’ve taken his innocent inquiry the wrong way. “Justin, relax. This is
nice. You and me talking. I was thinking we could get a cup of coffee. You need
someone to tell the Brian saga to, don’t you?”
I look at him in utter amazement. He’s absolutely right. I have no one to talk
to Brian about and it’s killing me inside. I don’t know if Ethan is the right
person, it seems cruel in a way, but I could give it a shot. I nod a little and
then he urges, “Come on. It’s been a long time since we were together and
believe it or not, I am over you. What we had was good J, but I knew it’d never
last. I knew the second I laid eyes on Brian Kinney that I was just a
diversion.”
I watch his sad eyes and listen to the even tone in his voice. He’s being sweet
and honest and not at all vindictive or petty. He doesn’t regret what we had
and he doesn’t want to punish me for ending it. For a moment I wonder what the
fuck I was thinking when I left this man.
We walk out together and I say goodbye to my mom and Molly. Daphne called and
said she got stuck with a girlfriend in trouble. I’m sure she’ll stop by and
see my stuff next week.
Ethan and I stand on the sidewalk deliberating over where to have coffee. He
suggests the diner and it makes me laugh. He grabs my elbow and says something
about the show we could put on for the boys on Liberty if we walked in there
hand-in-hand. It only makes me laugh harder at the insanity of the situation.
Suddenly Ethan grabs my arm, “Justin…look.”
I turn my head just in time to see Brian’s jeep squeal away from the curb and
out onto the street. In shock and disbelief I stand silent for a long moment.
“What the hell was that?” Ethan asks honestly.
”I have no idea,” I whisper. “I have no fucking idea.”
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