"Spring Break" 14
Easter Sunday.
By Gaedhal
Part 14
The Fieldstone Inn, March 2005
On Saturday night Brian, dressed in his vintage sharkskin
suit, and Justin, wearing a too-large powder blue Pierre
Cardin jacket, ate dinner at a local restaurant that did a
passable impersonation of a provincial French auberge.
Justin had rabbit for the first time, Brian had duck, and
for dessert they shared a huge slice of chocolate gateau.
Then they returned to the Fieldstone Inn and spent much
more time in the large whirlpool tub than was necessary
merely to get clean.
Sunday morning the pair awoke and found a large Easter
basket filled with fruit, chocolate, and fresh flowers at the
door of their room.
"I completely forgot that it was Easter," said Brian, thinking
of Gus.
"That's okay, Brian," Justin replied. "We have presents for
everyone when we get back. You can go and see Gus tomorrow
and give him the trains. He'll understand."
"I didn't get anything for Michael's kid," Brian said. "I didn't
think of it. Typical of me. I bought plenty of shit for myself
this weekend."
"No, Brian," said Justin, putting his arms around his lover.
"It's not typical of you. You always take care of everyone and
that's the truth. We both forgot. So we'll stop at the Antique
Market after brunch and find something nice for her. Okay?"
"I guess so," Brian shrugged.
"Come on," Justin prodded. "Let's go to brunch."
The Fieldstone Inn always did a big brunch, opening the dining
room to non-guests, so the place was packed on Easter Sunday.
Justin helped himself to eggs, bacon, and pancakes from the
large buffet, while Brian took some fruit and a bagel. Mrs.
York found them a table in the corner and they ate while they
watched a progression of families go through the food line.
"I always liked Easter," said Justin. "I loved the chocolate
bunnies. I always bit off the head first and then finished the
rest later."
But Brian didn't reply. He poked at his fruit with his fork
listlessly.
"We have to leave pretty early tomorrow morning, Brian,"
Justin reminded him. "My flight for Boston leaves at 2:00."
"I'll get you to the airport in time," said Brian. "Never fear."
"I'm not worried." Justin took a deep breath. "This will be my
final term at Dartmouth. Commencement is on June 12.
Doesn't seem possible. Four years flew by." He waited for
Brian to say something, but there was nothing. "I need to
think about what I'm going to do after I come back to
Pittsburgh. Brian? Are you listening to me?"
"I'm listening, Sunshine," Brian said. Then he looked up at
Justin. "I thought you were going to move into the loft? Or
have you changed your mind?"
"No, Brian," Justin said in relief. "I haven't changed my
mind. But we never really discussed it, so I wasn't sure."
"If I had changed my mind, you'd know about it." Brian set
down his fork. "So what's there to discuss?"
Justin hesitated. To his mind, there were dozens of things
for them to discuss. How much of his stuff could Justin bring
with him to the loft? What would Justin do now that he was
out of school? Find a job? Where? What about his art? What
about his parents? What would his father say? Should he
introduce them to Brian? What would their reaction be to
Justin living with his older boyfriend? That was another
thing -- what exactly WAS the nature of their relationship?
How did Brian feel about all of this? Was he in love with
Justin the way Justin was in love with Brian? That was one
thing that Brian had never articulated clearly. Yes, Justin
thought there was plenty for them to discuss.
"Come on," said Brian, pushing his plate away. "Let's take
a ride."
They drove back to the lookout and stayed for a while watching
for the hawk, but they didn't see it. Justin had remembered to
bring his camera this time and he took a lot of photos, mainly
of Brian standing and staring at the distant mountains. Then
Brian took some pictures of Justin, mainly grinning.
After that they went back to the Antique Market and found
an Easter gift for Jenny Rebecca -- a homemade quilt with
yellow ducks around the edges.
"Too bad we couldn't find one with pink flamingoes," Justin
commented wryly.
Brian gave him a quizzical look. "The kid is already being
raised by a pair of dykes and you want to make it worse by
adding flamingoes?"
"A few flamingoes never hurt anyone, Brian," said Justin.
For their last dinner they went back to the little Italian
restaurant in Wiley. Both Brian and Justin flirted with the
giggling waitress and she brought them free ice cream for
dessert.
"We need another bottle of champagne for tonight," Brian
told Mr. York as they reclaimed their room key. "And a
wake-up call for 7:00 a.m."
"Certainly, Mr. Kinney. I'll bring the bottle right up,"
said Mr. York, making a note on his pad. "I hope you've
enjoyed your stay with us?"
"Yes," Brian answered. "I think we have."
The champagne was good. So was the fire. And Brian was
getting used to the fluffy bed. It was amazing what you could
get used to if you only allowed yourself. Even get comfortable
with.
Justin had found some old Big Band music on the radio. Probably
the local NPR station, Brian thought. Artie Shaw. Glenn Miller.
Benny Goodman. A lot of throbbing horns and mournful melodies.
Music to dance to, but in a melancholy way. Music made during
wartime. Music for a desperate moment that would never come
again.
Listening to it made Brian feel nostalgic. He didn't know why.
He hadn't lived during the Big Band era but he watched a lot of
old movies. There was something about that time that made
Brian feel both happy and regretful at the same time. He
knew what Justin would say. That it was because it was
romantic. That word again. Absurdly romantic.
Justin got out of bed and went over to the hearth to put on
another log. He bent over and Brian laughed at how much
he was enjoying the view.
"What are you laughing at?" Justin demanded.
"You," said Brian. "The naked servant boy, feeding the fire."
"Who's a servant boy?" Justin challenged.
"If you're going to be my houseboy, then you'll have to get
used to it." Brian set down his glass of champagne and also
got out of bed.
"I knew there was a reason why you wanted me to move in
with you," said Justin. "You want a cheap houseboy!"
"No," said Brian. "Never cheap. You cost me more than you'll
ever know." Brian went over and caught Justin in his arms.
"Can you dance?"
Justin was surprised. "Sure. We belong to the Arcadian
Country Club. All WASPy country club boys take dancing
lessons. Their mothers make them so they can escort the
daughters of their parents' WASPy country club friends
to proms and coming out parties."
"Well," said Brian. "This is a different kind of coming out
party. So -- will you?"
Justin's eyes widened. "Will I what?"
"Dance with me?" Brian replied. "We have all this music
and a nice space in front of the fireplace. Seems a shame to
let it go to waste."
"Oh, we haven't wasted it," Justin smiled, thinking of what
they had already done on the rug in front of the fire. "But
I'm game."
It felt strange to dance naked. To press his body against Brian's
in such a different way. But it also felt good, Justin thought.
It felt right. Brian wasn't the world's greatest dancer, but he
was good enough. More important was the way they moved
together. Smoothly. Naturally. The same way they made love.
Justin closed his eyes and thought about how much this meant
to him. To have this perfect moment. This perfect weekend.
This perfect spring break. And it was only the beginning.
Brian closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted from
the rest of his life. He had never planned very far ahead before.
He had never wanted to think about the future. He was a man
who lived for the moment. But even perfect moments ended.
It was the time between those moments that really counted.
And what you did with that time while you had it in your grasp.
Brian braced Justin against his powerful body and lifted him
off his feet, spinning him around while Justin laughed and
laughed. Then he bent him back and kissed him.
They were safe for now. And that was all that mattered.
By Gaedhal
Part 14
The Fieldstone Inn, March 2005
On Saturday night Brian, dressed in his vintage sharkskin
suit, and Justin, wearing a too-large powder blue Pierre
Cardin jacket, ate dinner at a local restaurant that did a
passable impersonation of a provincial French auberge.
Justin had rabbit for the first time, Brian had duck, and
for dessert they shared a huge slice of chocolate gateau.
Then they returned to the Fieldstone Inn and spent much
more time in the large whirlpool tub than was necessary
merely to get clean.
Sunday morning the pair awoke and found a large Easter
basket filled with fruit, chocolate, and fresh flowers at the
door of their room.
"I completely forgot that it was Easter," said Brian, thinking
of Gus.
"That's okay, Brian," Justin replied. "We have presents for
everyone when we get back. You can go and see Gus tomorrow
and give him the trains. He'll understand."
"I didn't get anything for Michael's kid," Brian said. "I didn't
think of it. Typical of me. I bought plenty of shit for myself
this weekend."
"No, Brian," said Justin, putting his arms around his lover.
"It's not typical of you. You always take care of everyone and
that's the truth. We both forgot. So we'll stop at the Antique
Market after brunch and find something nice for her. Okay?"
"I guess so," Brian shrugged.
"Come on," Justin prodded. "Let's go to brunch."
The Fieldstone Inn always did a big brunch, opening the dining
room to non-guests, so the place was packed on Easter Sunday.
Justin helped himself to eggs, bacon, and pancakes from the
large buffet, while Brian took some fruit and a bagel. Mrs.
York found them a table in the corner and they ate while they
watched a progression of families go through the food line.
"I always liked Easter," said Justin. "I loved the chocolate
bunnies. I always bit off the head first and then finished the
rest later."
But Brian didn't reply. He poked at his fruit with his fork
listlessly.
"We have to leave pretty early tomorrow morning, Brian,"
Justin reminded him. "My flight for Boston leaves at 2:00."
"I'll get you to the airport in time," said Brian. "Never fear."
"I'm not worried." Justin took a deep breath. "This will be my
final term at Dartmouth. Commencement is on June 12.
Doesn't seem possible. Four years flew by." He waited for
Brian to say something, but there was nothing. "I need to
think about what I'm going to do after I come back to
Pittsburgh. Brian? Are you listening to me?"
"I'm listening, Sunshine," Brian said. Then he looked up at
Justin. "I thought you were going to move into the loft? Or
have you changed your mind?"
"No, Brian," Justin said in relief. "I haven't changed my
mind. But we never really discussed it, so I wasn't sure."
"If I had changed my mind, you'd know about it." Brian set
down his fork. "So what's there to discuss?"
Justin hesitated. To his mind, there were dozens of things
for them to discuss. How much of his stuff could Justin bring
with him to the loft? What would Justin do now that he was
out of school? Find a job? Where? What about his art? What
about his parents? What would his father say? Should he
introduce them to Brian? What would their reaction be to
Justin living with his older boyfriend? That was another
thing -- what exactly WAS the nature of their relationship?
How did Brian feel about all of this? Was he in love with
Justin the way Justin was in love with Brian? That was one
thing that Brian had never articulated clearly. Yes, Justin
thought there was plenty for them to discuss.
"Come on," said Brian, pushing his plate away. "Let's take
a ride."
They drove back to the lookout and stayed for a while watching
for the hawk, but they didn't see it. Justin had remembered to
bring his camera this time and he took a lot of photos, mainly
of Brian standing and staring at the distant mountains. Then
Brian took some pictures of Justin, mainly grinning.
After that they went back to the Antique Market and found
an Easter gift for Jenny Rebecca -- a homemade quilt with
yellow ducks around the edges.
"Too bad we couldn't find one with pink flamingoes," Justin
commented wryly.
Brian gave him a quizzical look. "The kid is already being
raised by a pair of dykes and you want to make it worse by
adding flamingoes?"
"A few flamingoes never hurt anyone, Brian," said Justin.
For their last dinner they went back to the little Italian
restaurant in Wiley. Both Brian and Justin flirted with the
giggling waitress and she brought them free ice cream for
dessert.
"We need another bottle of champagne for tonight," Brian
told Mr. York as they reclaimed their room key. "And a
wake-up call for 7:00 a.m."
"Certainly, Mr. Kinney. I'll bring the bottle right up,"
said Mr. York, making a note on his pad. "I hope you've
enjoyed your stay with us?"
"Yes," Brian answered. "I think we have."
The champagne was good. So was the fire. And Brian was
getting used to the fluffy bed. It was amazing what you could
get used to if you only allowed yourself. Even get comfortable
with.
Justin had found some old Big Band music on the radio. Probably
the local NPR station, Brian thought. Artie Shaw. Glenn Miller.
Benny Goodman. A lot of throbbing horns and mournful melodies.
Music to dance to, but in a melancholy way. Music made during
wartime. Music for a desperate moment that would never come
again.
Listening to it made Brian feel nostalgic. He didn't know why.
He hadn't lived during the Big Band era but he watched a lot of
old movies. There was something about that time that made
Brian feel both happy and regretful at the same time. He
knew what Justin would say. That it was because it was
romantic. That word again. Absurdly romantic.
Justin got out of bed and went over to the hearth to put on
another log. He bent over and Brian laughed at how much
he was enjoying the view.
"What are you laughing at?" Justin demanded.
"You," said Brian. "The naked servant boy, feeding the fire."
"Who's a servant boy?" Justin challenged.
"If you're going to be my houseboy, then you'll have to get
used to it." Brian set down his glass of champagne and also
got out of bed.
"I knew there was a reason why you wanted me to move in
with you," said Justin. "You want a cheap houseboy!"
"No," said Brian. "Never cheap. You cost me more than you'll
ever know." Brian went over and caught Justin in his arms.
"Can you dance?"
Justin was surprised. "Sure. We belong to the Arcadian
Country Club. All WASPy country club boys take dancing
lessons. Their mothers make them so they can escort the
daughters of their parents' WASPy country club friends
to proms and coming out parties."
"Well," said Brian. "This is a different kind of coming out
party. So -- will you?"
Justin's eyes widened. "Will I what?"
"Dance with me?" Brian replied. "We have all this music
and a nice space in front of the fireplace. Seems a shame to
let it go to waste."
"Oh, we haven't wasted it," Justin smiled, thinking of what
they had already done on the rug in front of the fire. "But
I'm game."
It felt strange to dance naked. To press his body against Brian's
in such a different way. But it also felt good, Justin thought.
It felt right. Brian wasn't the world's greatest dancer, but he
was good enough. More important was the way they moved
together. Smoothly. Naturally. The same way they made love.
Justin closed his eyes and thought about how much this meant
to him. To have this perfect moment. This perfect weekend.
This perfect spring break. And it was only the beginning.
Brian closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted from
the rest of his life. He had never planned very far ahead before.
He had never wanted to think about the future. He was a man
who lived for the moment. But even perfect moments ended.
It was the time between those moments that really counted.
And what you did with that time while you had it in your grasp.
Brian braced Justin against his powerful body and lifted him
off his feet, spinning him around while Justin laughed and
laughed. Then he bent him back and kissed him.
They were safe for now. And that was all that mattered.