"The Enchanted Cottage" -- Part 27
The Center.
Pittsburgh, Pa., December 2006
"I'm n... nervous," said Justin.
"Don't be!" Daphne urged. "It's going to be great!"
Justin and Daphne lingered on the sidewalk in front of the Gay and Lesbian Center, watching people going in to see the art exhibit.
"I know... b... but..."
"Your pieces look so good!" said Daphne. "Just as good as any of the other stuff. No -- better! That one of the naked guy lying on the bed? It's as good as anything in a book!"
"Th... thanks," said Justin. "It's one of my f... favorites."
Daphne hesitated, but she was too curious not to ask. "That's the guy you've been living with in the cottage, isn't it? Brian?"
"Of c...course," Justin sighed. "Who else? I'd hardly be t... taking nude photos of the Major!"
"I thought so," said Daphne. "So, are you sleeping with this guy?"
Justin nodded. "Yeah. Or I w... was."
"Why didn't you tell me about you and him?" Daphne asked. "You can trust me! We've only been best friends, like, forever!"
"I know." Justin shuffled his feet nervously. "I g... guess I was afraid to. Afraid it w... wouldn't last. And it didn't."
Daphne put her arm around Justin's waist. "I'm sorry. I knew something was going on between the you and that guy, but you'd never talk about it!"
"And I'd r... rather not talk about it now," said Justin, squaring his shoulders. "I'm ready to g... go inside and face the music. My m... mom and Mrs. Horvath are already in there."
"I'm right here, Justin," Daphne reminded him. "In case you need me."
"I can always c... count on you, Daph," he replied. "I a... a... appreciate it. Let's go."
Justin took his friend's hand and they walked up the steps and into the Center.
The art was displayed in the largest room in the GLC, a high-ceilinged space on the second floor. Some sculptures were grouped in the middle of the room, while photos, drawings and paintings lined the walls. Justin's prints were to the left, but clearly visible as you walked in the door. A knot of people were gathered there, where Debbie Horvath was holding forth on the merits of the art -- and the artist.
"A year ago this kid couldn't even hold a pencil -- and look at what he's done!" she crowed. "He's got real guts!"
"Jesus, Ma!" Her son, Michael Novotny, tugged at her arm. "Give it a rest! Let the people look in peace! They don't need to know the kid's entire life story!"
"Why not?" Deb frowned. "It's a goddamn inspiring story! And don't tell me what I can and can't say, you little shit!" And she swiped Michael on the side of his head.
"Ow!" Michael wailed. "Cut it out!"
Jennifer Taylor stepped forward to defuse the situation. "Why don't we all get some punch? I'm a little thirsty."
“Okay." Debbie allowed herself to be steered to the refreshments. "Where the hell is your son, anyway?" she peered around the room.
"There he is." Jennifer waved. "Justin! Daphne!"
"Hey, M... mom, Mrs. Horvath," said Justin. "This is m... my friend, Daphne."
"Hello, Daphne," said Debbie. "And this is my son, Michael."
"Hi." Michael nodded curtly, then turned to get a plastic cup for the punch, leaving the women to gab.
So that was the kid. Justin. The one Brian was fucking up in Erie. He remembered him from all the commotion after he'd been bashed. Ma and her PFLAG group had organized demonstrations and held fund raisers during the trial of the guys who attacked him. The kid was never at the actual events, but his picture was always prominently placed. He looked older now and his hair was longer, but he was still a punk kid. Not at all the type of hot, buff guy Brian usually went for.
But Brian didn't have a lot of options lately. Michael shook his head. Any old port on the storm, it seemed.
"How's the c... comic book store?" Justin asked, reaching for a cup.
Michael looked at the kid in surprise. "You know about my store?"
"Sure. Brian t... told me all about it. And you s... sent him some c... comics. I p... picked up the mail every day and carried the envelopes." Justin raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't really r... read comic books."
Michael swallowed. "I know. But I wanted to send him something."
"He was always in a better m... mood when he got something from you, even comic b... books," said Justin. "He really l... loves you, you know?"
"He does?" Michael turned away, his eyes tearing up. He didn't want this kid to see how much he missed Brian. Or how much he still cared about him, even after all that had happened.
"Yes," Justin said firmly.
"Those pictures." Michael looked in the direction of Justin's prints. "Those are Brian."
Justin nodded. "How did you kn... know?"
"By his profile," said Michael. "His hands. His body. By everything." He didn't mention the conversation he'd had with Brian on the phone only a few weeks before. Instead he looked Justin in the eye, sizing him up. "And he's fucking you, so it's not really a stretch."
"We were f... fucking," said Justin, sadly. "But not anymore. He kicked m... me out. Sent me home. Back to P... Pittsburgh. That's why I'm here -- alone."
"Oh," said Michael. "Brian hasn't called me back or answered any of my e-mails since right before Thanksgiving. I was wondering what was going on. I thought he might be here tonight."
"He's not," Justin stated.
"Is he... all right?" Michael was almost afraid to ask. He'd been jealous of Brian and the kid, but knowing Brian was all alone in that stupid cottage gave Michael a chill.
"I d... don't know," Justin said honestly. "I hope. But he's f... fucked up!"
"And you left him by himself? Up there?" Michael hissed. "What were you thinking?"
"I d... didn't have a choice!" Justin retorted. "Have you ever b... been able to make Br... Brian Kinney do anything he didn't want to do?"
"No," Michael admitted. "Fuck!"
"Justin Taylor!" Philip, one of the heads of the GLC, bustled over. "We're taking pictures of all the artists and we need you! And a reporter from 'Pittsburgh OUT' would like to interview you! Would that be okay?"
"S... sure," said Justin, setting down his cup of punch. "Excuse m... me, Michael."
Debbie watched Justin walk away and she went over to her son. "Did you see the pictures Justin made? Anyone with half a brain would recognize him right away. Poor kid! Brian Kinney certainly doesn't waste an opportunity, does he?"
Michael winced. "It's none of your business, Ma!"
Debbie put her hands on her hips, indignantly. "It is my business when your fucking friend takes advantage of a poor, innocent, and damaged boy!"
"He didn't take advantage of him," Michael said slowly. "Brian's in love with him. He told me so. He posed for those photos because they're lovers. Or they were. But something happened and Brian kicked the kid out."
"That shithead!" Debbie huffed. "Typical! He gets tired of poor Justin and dumps him!"
"No," said Michael. "Something else is going on. Brian meant it -- I know he did. He sent Justin away. And that worries me. I think I better drive up to Erie and make sure he's okay."
"Go on a wild goose chase if you want to," Deb said dismissively. "Brian probably got tired of the kid and told him to hit the road."
"That's not it, Ma," said Michael. "Not at all."
He watched as Justin lined up with the other young gay artists to have their photographs taken. He was grinning, but he also kept glancing at the door, as if he was expecting someone. Hoping for someone to walk through it. A tall figure loomed in the doorway and Justin immediately went on alert -- but it was a stranger. Michael noticed that the kid kept clenching and unclenching his right hand, compulsively.
He loves Brian. That much is clear, thought Michael. He understood that feeling all too well. Loving Brian Kinney was a lifelong vocation. A thankless responsibility. An incurable condition.
"Welcome to the club, kid," Michael whispered. "And good luck -- because you're going to need it!"
***
Pittsburgh, Pa., December 2006
"I'm n... nervous," said Justin.
"Don't be!" Daphne urged. "It's going to be great!"
Justin and Daphne lingered on the sidewalk in front of the Gay and Lesbian Center, watching people going in to see the art exhibit.
"I know... b... but..."
"Your pieces look so good!" said Daphne. "Just as good as any of the other stuff. No -- better! That one of the naked guy lying on the bed? It's as good as anything in a book!"
"Th... thanks," said Justin. "It's one of my f... favorites."
Daphne hesitated, but she was too curious not to ask. "That's the guy you've been living with in the cottage, isn't it? Brian?"
"Of c...course," Justin sighed. "Who else? I'd hardly be t... taking nude photos of the Major!"
"I thought so," said Daphne. "So, are you sleeping with this guy?"
Justin nodded. "Yeah. Or I w... was."
"Why didn't you tell me about you and him?" Daphne asked. "You can trust me! We've only been best friends, like, forever!"
"I know." Justin shuffled his feet nervously. "I g... guess I was afraid to. Afraid it w... wouldn't last. And it didn't."
Daphne put her arm around Justin's waist. "I'm sorry. I knew something was going on between the you and that guy, but you'd never talk about it!"
"And I'd r... rather not talk about it now," said Justin, squaring his shoulders. "I'm ready to g... go inside and face the music. My m... mom and Mrs. Horvath are already in there."
"I'm right here, Justin," Daphne reminded him. "In case you need me."
"I can always c... count on you, Daph," he replied. "I a... a... appreciate it. Let's go."
Justin took his friend's hand and they walked up the steps and into the Center.
The art was displayed in the largest room in the GLC, a high-ceilinged space on the second floor. Some sculptures were grouped in the middle of the room, while photos, drawings and paintings lined the walls. Justin's prints were to the left, but clearly visible as you walked in the door. A knot of people were gathered there, where Debbie Horvath was holding forth on the merits of the art -- and the artist.
"A year ago this kid couldn't even hold a pencil -- and look at what he's done!" she crowed. "He's got real guts!"
"Jesus, Ma!" Her son, Michael Novotny, tugged at her arm. "Give it a rest! Let the people look in peace! They don't need to know the kid's entire life story!"
"Why not?" Deb frowned. "It's a goddamn inspiring story! And don't tell me what I can and can't say, you little shit!" And she swiped Michael on the side of his head.
"Ow!" Michael wailed. "Cut it out!"
Jennifer Taylor stepped forward to defuse the situation. "Why don't we all get some punch? I'm a little thirsty."
“Okay." Debbie allowed herself to be steered to the refreshments. "Where the hell is your son, anyway?" she peered around the room.
"There he is." Jennifer waved. "Justin! Daphne!"
"Hey, M... mom, Mrs. Horvath," said Justin. "This is m... my friend, Daphne."
"Hello, Daphne," said Debbie. "And this is my son, Michael."
"Hi." Michael nodded curtly, then turned to get a plastic cup for the punch, leaving the women to gab.
So that was the kid. Justin. The one Brian was fucking up in Erie. He remembered him from all the commotion after he'd been bashed. Ma and her PFLAG group had organized demonstrations and held fund raisers during the trial of the guys who attacked him. The kid was never at the actual events, but his picture was always prominently placed. He looked older now and his hair was longer, but he was still a punk kid. Not at all the type of hot, buff guy Brian usually went for.
But Brian didn't have a lot of options lately. Michael shook his head. Any old port on the storm, it seemed.
"How's the c... comic book store?" Justin asked, reaching for a cup.
Michael looked at the kid in surprise. "You know about my store?"
"Sure. Brian t... told me all about it. And you s... sent him some c... comics. I p... picked up the mail every day and carried the envelopes." Justin raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't really r... read comic books."
Michael swallowed. "I know. But I wanted to send him something."
"He was always in a better m... mood when he got something from you, even comic b... books," said Justin. "He really l... loves you, you know?"
"He does?" Michael turned away, his eyes tearing up. He didn't want this kid to see how much he missed Brian. Or how much he still cared about him, even after all that had happened.
"Yes," Justin said firmly.
"Those pictures." Michael looked in the direction of Justin's prints. "Those are Brian."
Justin nodded. "How did you kn... know?"
"By his profile," said Michael. "His hands. His body. By everything." He didn't mention the conversation he'd had with Brian on the phone only a few weeks before. Instead he looked Justin in the eye, sizing him up. "And he's fucking you, so it's not really a stretch."
"We were f... fucking," said Justin, sadly. "But not anymore. He kicked m... me out. Sent me home. Back to P... Pittsburgh. That's why I'm here -- alone."
"Oh," said Michael. "Brian hasn't called me back or answered any of my e-mails since right before Thanksgiving. I was wondering what was going on. I thought he might be here tonight."
"He's not," Justin stated.
"Is he... all right?" Michael was almost afraid to ask. He'd been jealous of Brian and the kid, but knowing Brian was all alone in that stupid cottage gave Michael a chill.
"I d... don't know," Justin said honestly. "I hope. But he's f... fucked up!"
"And you left him by himself? Up there?" Michael hissed. "What were you thinking?"
"I d... didn't have a choice!" Justin retorted. "Have you ever b... been able to make Br... Brian Kinney do anything he didn't want to do?"
"No," Michael admitted. "Fuck!"
"Justin Taylor!" Philip, one of the heads of the GLC, bustled over. "We're taking pictures of all the artists and we need you! And a reporter from 'Pittsburgh OUT' would like to interview you! Would that be okay?"
"S... sure," said Justin, setting down his cup of punch. "Excuse m... me, Michael."
Debbie watched Justin walk away and she went over to her son. "Did you see the pictures Justin made? Anyone with half a brain would recognize him right away. Poor kid! Brian Kinney certainly doesn't waste an opportunity, does he?"
Michael winced. "It's none of your business, Ma!"
Debbie put her hands on her hips, indignantly. "It is my business when your fucking friend takes advantage of a poor, innocent, and damaged boy!"
"He didn't take advantage of him," Michael said slowly. "Brian's in love with him. He told me so. He posed for those photos because they're lovers. Or they were. But something happened and Brian kicked the kid out."
"That shithead!" Debbie huffed. "Typical! He gets tired of poor Justin and dumps him!"
"No," said Michael. "Something else is going on. Brian meant it -- I know he did. He sent Justin away. And that worries me. I think I better drive up to Erie and make sure he's okay."
"Go on a wild goose chase if you want to," Deb said dismissively. "Brian probably got tired of the kid and told him to hit the road."
"That's not it, Ma," said Michael. "Not at all."
He watched as Justin lined up with the other young gay artists to have their photographs taken. He was grinning, but he also kept glancing at the door, as if he was expecting someone. Hoping for someone to walk through it. A tall figure loomed in the doorway and Justin immediately went on alert -- but it was a stranger. Michael noticed that the kid kept clenching and unclenching his right hand, compulsively.
He loves Brian. That much is clear, thought Michael. He understood that feeling all too well. Loving Brian Kinney was a lifelong vocation. A thankless responsibility. An incurable condition.
"Welcome to the club, kid," Michael whispered. "And good luck -- because you're going to need it!"
***