"Coup de Foudre" 77
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, July 2016
Justin and Gus sat in the hallway while Brian was prepared to be taken up to the Neuro ICU. Justin’s right hand was beginning to shake, whether from stress or anxiety or some nameless dread lurking deep inside of him. He began clenching and unclenching his hand, trying to relax it. Wishing that Brian were able work his magic on it, massaging gently but firmly until the spasm subsided, the way he used to do in the dark days after Justin was released from this very hospital.
“Stop doing that!” Gus hissed. “You’re bugging the crap out of me.”
“My hand is seizing up,” said Justin. “I need to work it, so quit bugging me, okay?”
Gus’s lip curled. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”
“Hardly!” Justin snorted. “This is about Brian. But if my hand fucks up, then I won’t be able to be any good to him.”
“That would be fine with me,” Gus returned.
Justin had had enough with Gus’s attitude. Yes, he was only a kid, but this was serious. “Listen, I’m here because I care about Brian, whether you like it or not. And if I wasn’t here - or if I hadn’t been at the house - then you’d be in even bigger shit trouble than you are!”
Gus’s eyes narrowed at Justin. “If you hadn’t been at the house this never would have happened!”
“And if you hadn’t had a fucking hissy fit, then Brian wouldn’t have gone after you and he wouldn’t have spun out on the bike, you little asshole!” Justin lashed back.
“Excuse me?” A nurse in pink scrubs came out of a nearby cubicle, her face stern. “If you two don’t keep it down, I’ll have to call Security to escort you both outside.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said Justin. “We’ll be quiet.”
“See that you are.” The nurse disappeared back into the cubicle.
“You’re right,” Gus whispered. “He’s going to die and it’s my fault! I killed him!”
Justin leaned toward the boy. He wanted to hold him, comfort him, but he was afraid of Gus’s anger boiling up again if he tried to touch him. “I didn’t mean to say it was your fault. It happened. It was an accident. The important thing now is making sure Brian gets the best treatment.”
“He’s going to die!” Now Gus was wailing, his emotions swinging from one extreme to another. “I know he is! Like Ron died!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Justin urged. “Or they’ll kick us out of here. If you don’t put a lid on it this minute, I’ll smack you again!”
Gus gulped and turned his eyes on Justin. They were dark hazel, like Brian’s, the green light in them were flashing dangerously. “You touch me and I’ll have you arrested.”
“We’re both going to be arrested if we don’t get our shit together,” Justin replied. “Look! They’re taking him out of the room.”
Justin and Gus watched as the gurney carrying Brian slowly rolled out into the hallway and towards the elevator. Dr. Sun beckoned to them.
“Ten minutes and then take the same elevator up to the third floor,” Dr. Sun instructed. “Are there any other family members that you wish to call?”
“Yes,” said Justin, fumbling for his cell. “I completely forgot about that.”
“If you must make calls, we do not encourage that you do it in the ICU,” said Dr. Sun. “We find it disruptive. I would suggest that you make any calls before you proceed upstairs. Most people go outside to get a better signal.”
“We’ll do that,” said Justin. “Thank you for the advice, Doctor.”
Dr. Sun nodded. “If you are going to be here for a while, there is a cafeteria on the second floor of the Snyder Pavilion. You can get food and also coffee or tea and bring it up to the waiting room. There are also vending machines. Do not neglect your own needs or you may become ill yourselves.”
“We won’t,” said Justin. “Thanks again.” They watched Dr. Sun move briskly towards the elevator, following his patient. “I better make those calls. I’ll phone Michael and then he can tell Deb. I better call Cynthia, too. And Ted. Ted knows all of Brian’s insurance information and we’re going to need that stuff. You should call Lindsay. She needs to know what’s going on.”
“But I can’t!” said Gus, shrinking away. “I can’t call my mom! She’s going to freak out!”
Justin instinctively rubbed the scar hidden under his head. “Jesus, I’ll do it then. But she has to be told. And what about your housekeeper in L.A.?”
“You mean Carmel?” said Gus. “She’s on vacation.”
“Yes, Carmel,” said Justin. “We may need her to come back here. You can’t stay in that house alone. And we’ll need her to keep everything in order so things aren’t in a complete mess when Brian comes home from the hospital.”
Gus blinked back tears. “When… when do you think that will be?”
“I don’t know,” Justin admitted. “I was in the ICU and then the Rehab Unit for weeks. It felt like forever. You lose all track of time in there.”
Gus bit at his bottom lip. He wanted to question Justin, but he wasn’t certain he really wanted to know the truth. “You said you were… were attacked, right?”
Justin was surprised by the question. “Yeah, I was gay-bashed in 2001.”
“At St. James Academy?”
Now Justin really was taken aback. “Did Brian tell you about that?”
“Not exactly,” said Gus. “We visited St. James when we were looking at schools and Dad told me a friend of his had been hurt there and that’s why he didn’t want me to go there, even though it was the best place we saw. That was you, right?”
“Yes,” Justin confirmed. “It was me. Although it wasn’t at St. James. It was at the Penn Hotel where my prom was being held, in the parking garage. I was bashed in the head by a guy I knew. He used a baseball bat to smash my fucking skull because he didn’t like faggots. Brian was there, too. He danced with me at the prom, although I still can’t remember it completely. And he saw me getting bashed. He saw me almost get killed right in front of him. And now…” Justin choked. And now he’d watched Brian almost get killed, right in front of him.
Justin sank down into the nearest chair and held his head in his hands. It was too much to take. Gus was right. Brian could die. The doctors never told you the whole story for fear that you might go completely to pieces. What had his mother told him later? The first 48 hours - that was the crucial time. If you could survive those 48 hours, then you’d probably live. Justin had survived. But Brian still had many hours to go.
He felt something lightly touch his shoulder. It was Gus’s fingers. “Are you going to call everybody? Because I can’t do it!”
“I know you can’t.” Justin wiped at his eyes with the back of his left hand. His right one was still shaky. “I’ll do it. You want to go up to the ICU now?”
“No!” Gus bleated. “I’m afraid to go up there alone!”
Justin shook his head. “Then do you want to wait here?”
“By myself?” Gus shuddered as the Triage doors blasted opened and the EMT’s brought in another accident victim. Justin pulled Gus out of the way as they rushed the stretcher carrying a bleeding victim directly into a trauma room.
“Then come with me while I make the calls.”
Justin was disoriented when they went outside. It was now dark and the air heavy with humidity. How long had they been inside? Justin checked his watch and was shocked to see that it was almost midnight. He should have done this earlier, but, frankly, he hadn’t wanted to deal with the hysterics of Brian’s usual suspects.
He scrolled through his numbers and found Cynthia’s cell. She was the most logical person to inform first - and the most liable not to go completely to pieces. Then he’d call Ted and tell him to get Brian’s insurance information together, because the kind of hospital stay expected would be ridiculously expensive. Only after Cynthia and Ted would he call Michael. Because Michael was going to totally lose it, he thought. He’ll make Gus look calm and collected. The same with Debbie. Justin remembered his mother telling him about Debbie coming to the hospital after he was bashed and making a huge scene. Brian said it was the same after the bombing when Michael was injured - at least until Ben finally told her off. Yes, Ben would come with Michael and that would help keep him from going off the deep end. And Carl would do the same thing for Deb. It was lucky that Lindsay was in Toronto and far enough away that she couldn’t add to the commotion. At least not yet.
Commotion. That was one good thing about the ICU. They didn’t put up with any bullshit there. What did Dr. Sun say? Only two people could see Brian at a time, so he wouldn’t be inundated by a mob of lunatics all trying to get close to him while he was helpless. Helpless. That made Justin’s heart flip. Brian helpless. When Brian was always so strong. So in control. So independent. Not like the still form being taken away on a gurney. Vulnerable. Fucking helpless.
But Justin would always be there. He’d already decided that. He would never let Brian be alone. That was important. Even when he’d been in his coma, Justin had still known, somehow, that people were there. Later on he couldn’t remember who actually had been there, he knew it was someone. Probably his mom most of the time. Holding his hand. Brushing her fingers across his forehead. Talking to him even though the words hadn’t been clear. Still, he’d heard that voice. Felt that touch. He knew he was safe. Only later did he find out that Brian had been there, too, late at night, watching over him in the dark.
Justin vowed that Brian would never feel alone. Never be alone. He’d wait there, even if it took days. Weeks. He didn’t care how fucking long. And when Brian finally came home, he’d be there, too.
He and Gus.
Which meant that he and the kid needed to make peace with each other. The million dollar question was how?
Justin hit Cynthia’s number and steeled himself for the first call of the many he would have to make before this ordeal was over.
Pittsburgh, July 2016
Justin and Gus sat in the hallway while Brian was prepared to be taken up to the Neuro ICU. Justin’s right hand was beginning to shake, whether from stress or anxiety or some nameless dread lurking deep inside of him. He began clenching and unclenching his hand, trying to relax it. Wishing that Brian were able work his magic on it, massaging gently but firmly until the spasm subsided, the way he used to do in the dark days after Justin was released from this very hospital.
“Stop doing that!” Gus hissed. “You’re bugging the crap out of me.”
“My hand is seizing up,” said Justin. “I need to work it, so quit bugging me, okay?”
Gus’s lip curled. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”
“Hardly!” Justin snorted. “This is about Brian. But if my hand fucks up, then I won’t be able to be any good to him.”
“That would be fine with me,” Gus returned.
Justin had had enough with Gus’s attitude. Yes, he was only a kid, but this was serious. “Listen, I’m here because I care about Brian, whether you like it or not. And if I wasn’t here - or if I hadn’t been at the house - then you’d be in even bigger shit trouble than you are!”
Gus’s eyes narrowed at Justin. “If you hadn’t been at the house this never would have happened!”
“And if you hadn’t had a fucking hissy fit, then Brian wouldn’t have gone after you and he wouldn’t have spun out on the bike, you little asshole!” Justin lashed back.
“Excuse me?” A nurse in pink scrubs came out of a nearby cubicle, her face stern. “If you two don’t keep it down, I’ll have to call Security to escort you both outside.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said Justin. “We’ll be quiet.”
“See that you are.” The nurse disappeared back into the cubicle.
“You’re right,” Gus whispered. “He’s going to die and it’s my fault! I killed him!”
Justin leaned toward the boy. He wanted to hold him, comfort him, but he was afraid of Gus’s anger boiling up again if he tried to touch him. “I didn’t mean to say it was your fault. It happened. It was an accident. The important thing now is making sure Brian gets the best treatment.”
“He’s going to die!” Now Gus was wailing, his emotions swinging from one extreme to another. “I know he is! Like Ron died!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Justin urged. “Or they’ll kick us out of here. If you don’t put a lid on it this minute, I’ll smack you again!”
Gus gulped and turned his eyes on Justin. They were dark hazel, like Brian’s, the green light in them were flashing dangerously. “You touch me and I’ll have you arrested.”
“We’re both going to be arrested if we don’t get our shit together,” Justin replied. “Look! They’re taking him out of the room.”
Justin and Gus watched as the gurney carrying Brian slowly rolled out into the hallway and towards the elevator. Dr. Sun beckoned to them.
“Ten minutes and then take the same elevator up to the third floor,” Dr. Sun instructed. “Are there any other family members that you wish to call?”
“Yes,” said Justin, fumbling for his cell. “I completely forgot about that.”
“If you must make calls, we do not encourage that you do it in the ICU,” said Dr. Sun. “We find it disruptive. I would suggest that you make any calls before you proceed upstairs. Most people go outside to get a better signal.”
“We’ll do that,” said Justin. “Thank you for the advice, Doctor.”
Dr. Sun nodded. “If you are going to be here for a while, there is a cafeteria on the second floor of the Snyder Pavilion. You can get food and also coffee or tea and bring it up to the waiting room. There are also vending machines. Do not neglect your own needs or you may become ill yourselves.”
“We won’t,” said Justin. “Thanks again.” They watched Dr. Sun move briskly towards the elevator, following his patient. “I better make those calls. I’ll phone Michael and then he can tell Deb. I better call Cynthia, too. And Ted. Ted knows all of Brian’s insurance information and we’re going to need that stuff. You should call Lindsay. She needs to know what’s going on.”
“But I can’t!” said Gus, shrinking away. “I can’t call my mom! She’s going to freak out!”
Justin instinctively rubbed the scar hidden under his head. “Jesus, I’ll do it then. But she has to be told. And what about your housekeeper in L.A.?”
“You mean Carmel?” said Gus. “She’s on vacation.”
“Yes, Carmel,” said Justin. “We may need her to come back here. You can’t stay in that house alone. And we’ll need her to keep everything in order so things aren’t in a complete mess when Brian comes home from the hospital.”
Gus blinked back tears. “When… when do you think that will be?”
“I don’t know,” Justin admitted. “I was in the ICU and then the Rehab Unit for weeks. It felt like forever. You lose all track of time in there.”
Gus bit at his bottom lip. He wanted to question Justin, but he wasn’t certain he really wanted to know the truth. “You said you were… were attacked, right?”
Justin was surprised by the question. “Yeah, I was gay-bashed in 2001.”
“At St. James Academy?”
Now Justin really was taken aback. “Did Brian tell you about that?”
“Not exactly,” said Gus. “We visited St. James when we were looking at schools and Dad told me a friend of his had been hurt there and that’s why he didn’t want me to go there, even though it was the best place we saw. That was you, right?”
“Yes,” Justin confirmed. “It was me. Although it wasn’t at St. James. It was at the Penn Hotel where my prom was being held, in the parking garage. I was bashed in the head by a guy I knew. He used a baseball bat to smash my fucking skull because he didn’t like faggots. Brian was there, too. He danced with me at the prom, although I still can’t remember it completely. And he saw me getting bashed. He saw me almost get killed right in front of him. And now…” Justin choked. And now he’d watched Brian almost get killed, right in front of him.
Justin sank down into the nearest chair and held his head in his hands. It was too much to take. Gus was right. Brian could die. The doctors never told you the whole story for fear that you might go completely to pieces. What had his mother told him later? The first 48 hours - that was the crucial time. If you could survive those 48 hours, then you’d probably live. Justin had survived. But Brian still had many hours to go.
He felt something lightly touch his shoulder. It was Gus’s fingers. “Are you going to call everybody? Because I can’t do it!”
“I know you can’t.” Justin wiped at his eyes with the back of his left hand. His right one was still shaky. “I’ll do it. You want to go up to the ICU now?”
“No!” Gus bleated. “I’m afraid to go up there alone!”
Justin shook his head. “Then do you want to wait here?”
“By myself?” Gus shuddered as the Triage doors blasted opened and the EMT’s brought in another accident victim. Justin pulled Gus out of the way as they rushed the stretcher carrying a bleeding victim directly into a trauma room.
“Then come with me while I make the calls.”
Justin was disoriented when they went outside. It was now dark and the air heavy with humidity. How long had they been inside? Justin checked his watch and was shocked to see that it was almost midnight. He should have done this earlier, but, frankly, he hadn’t wanted to deal with the hysterics of Brian’s usual suspects.
He scrolled through his numbers and found Cynthia’s cell. She was the most logical person to inform first - and the most liable not to go completely to pieces. Then he’d call Ted and tell him to get Brian’s insurance information together, because the kind of hospital stay expected would be ridiculously expensive. Only after Cynthia and Ted would he call Michael. Because Michael was going to totally lose it, he thought. He’ll make Gus look calm and collected. The same with Debbie. Justin remembered his mother telling him about Debbie coming to the hospital after he was bashed and making a huge scene. Brian said it was the same after the bombing when Michael was injured - at least until Ben finally told her off. Yes, Ben would come with Michael and that would help keep him from going off the deep end. And Carl would do the same thing for Deb. It was lucky that Lindsay was in Toronto and far enough away that she couldn’t add to the commotion. At least not yet.
Commotion. That was one good thing about the ICU. They didn’t put up with any bullshit there. What did Dr. Sun say? Only two people could see Brian at a time, so he wouldn’t be inundated by a mob of lunatics all trying to get close to him while he was helpless. Helpless. That made Justin’s heart flip. Brian helpless. When Brian was always so strong. So in control. So independent. Not like the still form being taken away on a gurney. Vulnerable. Fucking helpless.
But Justin would always be there. He’d already decided that. He would never let Brian be alone. That was important. Even when he’d been in his coma, Justin had still known, somehow, that people were there. Later on he couldn’t remember who actually had been there, he knew it was someone. Probably his mom most of the time. Holding his hand. Brushing her fingers across his forehead. Talking to him even though the words hadn’t been clear. Still, he’d heard that voice. Felt that touch. He knew he was safe. Only later did he find out that Brian had been there, too, late at night, watching over him in the dark.
Justin vowed that Brian would never feel alone. Never be alone. He’d wait there, even if it took days. Weeks. He didn’t care how fucking long. And when Brian finally came home, he’d be there, too.
He and Gus.
Which meant that he and the kid needed to make peace with each other. The million dollar question was how?
Justin hit Cynthia’s number and steeled himself for the first call of the many he would have to make before this ordeal was over.