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Myrna
Part 6
Losing the last of his sight so abruptly, Justin had to learn how to do a ton
of things in new way. He and my dad had found this place out in Arizona, called
Heritage Recovery Center, that teaches people who've lost their sight how to
be, like, normal again. The problem was they couldn't fit him in for almost a
month.
I'm sure there were classes and stuff in Pittsburgh that Justin could have
taken, but the one time Mom mentioned it to Dad, he got pissed and stormed out.
"Give him a fucking second to get his bearings, damn it! He's not some God
damned performing seal!"
I didn't think that was very fair, but I could see where Justin might need a
little time to get used to everything. It was weird seeing him, though. We'd go
to the loft for dinner or something, and he wouldn't move from the kitchen
table the whole time we were there-not even to go to the bathroom or get a
drink of water or anything. Half the time he wouldn't even really eat-he'd make
a few, like, half-hearted attempts to scoop something onto his fork but mostly
he just pushed stuff around on the plate.
This sounds pretty awful, but it's like, since Justin couldn't see, he couldn't
be seen. I'm not trying to be cute or anything or make some, like, clever play
on words. That's what he was like. He was all, just, like, gray and small and
always kind of hiding behind my dad.
And my dad. Shit. You think he gets pissed when the New York Times doesn't
declare Justin's latest book the best thing since, like, The Bible? God, you
should have seen him back then. It's like he was always poised and ready to go,
like, totally ape shit whenever someone stared or acted the least bit
uncomfortable around Justin. Or acted, maybe, just possibly, like Justin
couldn't see anything.
Sarah and I were studying at the loft once, and the sun was coming in one of
the windows, and I asked Sarah to go fix the blinds. Swear to God, my dad,
like, glared at me for a half hour. I wanted to be, like, "Jesus Christ, I
didn't say *blind*, I said *blinds!*"
It was only a few weeks, but I worried that Justin was going to be like that
forever-all, like, timid and scared and stuff, and my dad would be wound so
fucking tight and that maybe it was never going to be cool and fun and normal
again.
Justin and my dad were at the Heritage for three months. We had Christmas out
there that year, and it was awesome because it was, like, 20 below in the Pitts
and we were kicking back in 85 degree heat, hiking through these awesome
trails, biking around and laughing at all the losers back home.
But mostly it was great because that was when I really knew that it was going
to be okay, we were all going to be okay, and life was going to be as good as
ever. What a relief.
That was toward the end of their stay, and Justin was totally different. Or
maybe he was back to being the same as before. He talked and joked around like
he had before. He cooked dinner almost every night and freaked Gran out the way
he chopped stuff with the hugest butcher knife you've ever seen. He and my dad
had this cool tandem mountain bike, and we tore around the bike trails and a
couple of afternoons we even hit golf balls. I'm not kidding-they have these
golf balls that beep and damn if Justin couldn't, like, line up the club and
belt the fuckers way out there.
My dad was back to normal too-grousing about how much we were all costing him
and complaining about everything and acting like we were all so lame and stuff.
He was really proud of Justin though, even I could see that. When Justin was
making dinner, my dad would sit at the kitchen table and just watch him with
the weirdest look on his face-part amusement, part pride, part something else.
I swear to God, Justin could feel my dad's eyes on him, I know he could.
Sometimes he'd stop what he was doing and just sort of cock his head in my
dad's direction. It was the strangest thing.
My dad's on the board of directors for the Center now and gives, like, a
bazillion dollars to them every year. Not that my dad would tell you that-he'd
be all, "It's none of your fuckin' business," but Pittsburgh Monthly
publishes a list every year of the top 200 philanthropists in the city, and it
tells you how much people give and who they give it to. My dad hates that list.
Whenever it comes out, the gay papers and magazines always publish these
horrified editorials because my dad doesn't shower the local gay organizations
with cash. My dad's usual reply of "Fuck 'em" isn't really
press-friendly, but everyone pretty much knew that's how he felt about it.
Anyway, we all got used to the way it was. That happened more quickly than you
might think.
When we were at home or, like, J's office or stuff, I swear, I'd forget about
it. That sounds crazy or impossible or whatever, but it's true. Well, there's
always stuff that you have to do, but it's not like you're saying to yourself,
"Justin is BLIND!" while you're doing it-you just do it, because...
well because you have to, I guess. Sarah and I crack up when something that's
totally a habit comes out and seems weird to other people, like when a friend
comes over for dinner, and you set a plate down in front of them and say
something like, "Sandwich at ten o'clock, potato chips at three and the
pickle's at seven." That's just something we do now-it's not sad or tragic
or too bad or anything stupid like that, it just is.
Justin wrote a book and then another, and then the first book was bought by a
movie studio and then for awhile it became this thing because my dad is, well,
Brian Kinney, and even if it was 2015 or whatever, there was still some novelty
in a gay couple being as successful and rich and well known as Dad and Justin.
It was funny, Justin used to say how he was always so worried that every
interview would be all about his being blind, but it turns out an awful lot of
them were all about his being gay.
The year the first movie was being made was really exciting. It was filmed in
New York so Justin and sometimes my dad would go up to watch the filming. They
brought Sarah and I with them once, and it was so fucking cool! We got to be
extras in the scene where Andrew Kent is jumping into the Hover Vette,
remember? Where he runs out and does that flip and then kind of flies into the
driver's seat?
It seems like there were always reporters and TV cameras and stuff around, we
were always celebrating something cool, either at a casual family dinner at
Gran's or one of Dad and Justin's (well, really they're Emmett's) fancy
parties.
The year the first movie was made was also when they first started talking
about a surgery that could potentially cure Justin's blindness. I'm not sure
where I first heard about it-well, overheard about it is probably more
accurate. Maybe it was Ma and Mom talking when they thought I was studying or
Gran and Gramps' when they thought I was raking leaves, who knows. I knew there
was a risky operation some doctor in Europe was doing, and that Justin was
considering it and that he and my dad were arguing about it.
I guess I just assumed Dad was pushing Justin to have the operation, and Justin
was resisting.
I heard them arguing about it once. It was at the loft one night when they were
having one of those fancy parties. It was a fund raiser for something, and
Sarah and I were allowed to invite a few friends too, and we spent a good part
of the evening trying to sneak some champagne or mixed drinks in between making
fun of all the boring losers. It got pretty lame, though, so we wanted to
unlock the stairs down to the pool. We have this rule that no one's allowed to
swim without telling Justin or my dad, so I went looking for them upstairs.
I could hear them going at it from the second floor landing. Christ, my dad
was, like, screaming at Justin, totally fucking screaming. They snapped at each
other all the time, but I hardly ever heard them really yelling at each other.
Shit, I bet I'd heard Michael and Ben fight more than I ever heard Dad and
Justin.
"You were the one who made those God damned fucking promises, not
me!" My dad was yelling. "You made those promises!"
"And you didn't want them," Justin yelled back. "You didn't want
any of them!"
"Well too fucking bad, you made them! You made them, and you're gonna
fucking live up to them!"
"I was twenty two years old! You were having a coronary every time I
interviewed for a job!"
"So what? So fucking what? You made the promises, Justin."
"Oh my God, this is the stupidest fucking conversation we have ever had
which is saying something! It's like...God, you don't even know what you're
asking..."
"Bullshit! I know exactly what I'm asking! And I'll know it every night
when I sleep next to you, and every morning when I wake up next to you! Don't
fucking tell me I don't know what I'm asking!"
Justin got quiet then, trying to sound reasonable, I guess. "Brian,
please? God damn it, please? Okay? Just...we'll just leave it alone for a
little while, okay? Can we do that?"
"No, we fucking can't! God damn it! Fuck you! Just fuck you God damn to
hell! This is all fucking you! You fucking drag me here; fucking make me, all
the fucking time you're making me, and I'm chewing off a fucking leg trying to
get out, but you just keep making me and making me and then you come up with
this fucking shit and expect me to just fucking go along?"
"Brian! Please!" It sounded like Justin was crying, so then I was
embarrassed for him, and I started to back away from the closed door.
"No! It's no now, and it's no a year from now, and it's no ten years from
now! Christ, how can you bring this fucking shit? What the fuck is wrong with
you? Fuck you! Fuck you!"
I remember things were kind of weird between Dad and Justin for awhile after
that. Well, they looked weird to me anyway. Dad was, like...shit, I don't know
how to describe it exactly. It was just with Justin he was different, *to*
Justin he was different. Humble. That's the only way I can think to describe
it. Every gesture, every word was, like, tinged with humility. It's like he was
saying 'thank you' all the time-it was the way he handed Justin a coffee mug
and caressed his arm or nuzzled at his temple, it was the way he brushed his
hand across Justin's shoulders as he walked by, it was the way he said, 'hey,'
when Justin walked in the room.
And Justin's response...it wasn't like he expected my dad to act that way, it's
like he was...letting him.
I don't know, it just lasted for a little while, but then I turned 16, and I
could finally get my driver's license, so I had much more important things to
worry about.