THE SIGN, PART 5 / 8

[kachelofen]

THE SIGN

PART FIVE

Justin drops the duffle bag by the door, places the pizza he got from the all-night take-out place on the small table in the hallway and pulls out his cellphone just before it goes to voicemail.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Sweetheart. Where are you? I’ve been calling you for hours!”

He pulls a face and tries to make his voice sound neutral. “Owen and I had a… difference of opinion.” That’s not quite true but almost. The next line is a complete lie though. “I’m going to be staying with a friend for a bit.”

“Which friend?”

“Mom. I’m twenty-six. I can stay with a friend without telling my mother. I’m fine.”

“Justin, uhm… okay then. But you’re still recovering and I’m worried about you.”

“I know, Mom. But everything’s fine. I just got here and I just want to eat something and go to sleep for a bit. I’m really tired.” As he says the words, he can feel the fatigue crashing down on him. After leaving the apartment, he spent three hours at the bus station waiting for an available seat on a bus to Pittsburgh and he feels lucky to have got one so quickly. On the other hand, who wants to go to Pittsburgh of all places anyway, so free seats on the next bus there are most likely not such a rare occurrence. During the journey, he managed to doze a little, but the guy next to him was on his cellphone almost the whole time until Justin was ready to strangle him and then stomp gleefully on the infernal contraption. Justin’s own cellphone was switched off because he has been brought up with manners.

“Are you sure you’re looking after yourself properly? Where’s Brian? I thought he was with you?”

Justin suppresses a snort that would lead to a drawn-out discussion that he’s simply not ready for yet and sticks to basic information. “He had to go to Denver on business.”

“Oh, of course. It was nice of him to look after you. He didn’t hesitate for a second when I called him.”

“Yes, I know, Mom. You said. Can I call you tomorrow? It’s late and I’m exhausted.” He yawns loudly to emphasize the point.

“Of course, Honey. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. G’dnight.”

“Night, Mom.”

Justin is glad that the conversation went rather better than he feared, but he knows he won’t be able to fob her off forever. Eventually, she’ll want to know where he is and he'll have to tell her something.

He’s only stayed in this house about a handful of times. In the nine month period when he was in New York and before everything went to hell, he and Brian spent half a dozen glorious weekends here, but Justin could never see Brian living here permanently. Out in the country, away from the bustle of the city, no clubs, no take-out deliveries? It’s not really Brian, but for those weekends away, after the days of separation, it was perfect.

Brian said he liked being at the house because no one would disturb their fuckfests, but in the evenings it was Brian, not Justin, who sat on the patio at the back of the house and listened to the profound silence - for a full two hours once, while Justin drew Brian without his knowledge from a vantage point just inside the house. For a man so full of energy, Brian could be incredibly still sometimes. Justin found the silence out here unnerving, but a still Brian fascinated him. When he thinks about it, he realizes that Brian was just as still for most of the time this past week. Not quiet, still, like he was waiting for something.

Justin takes a slice of pizza from the carton and eats it on his way upstairs. To his knowledge, only two of the bedrooms are furnished and he hopes that the housekeeper, who comes once every couple of weeks to do whatever she does, has left the beds as they were because he’s too tired to put clean sheets on. And he’s in luck. The bed looks inviting in its pristine glory and he drops all of his clothes on the floor and crawls under the covers to the middle of the bed. He’s asleep within a minute.

*

When Justin wakes up, he thinks that this might not have been such a good idea after all. Looking around the room from this position reminds him of the times he was here with Brian, but then again, everything reminds him of Brian, so maybe it doesn’t make any difference.

He takes a shower in a cubicle that’s twice the size of the one at the loft. Half of the room adjacent to the master bedroom was sacrificed to create an en suite bathroom of enormous proportions, while the other half became a walk-in wardrobe. Everything in this house is a little too grand for Justin’s taste. He feels dwarfed by the sheer scale of it and although you can’t quite get lost in the place, there are certainly more rooms than he and Brian were ever likely to need. He hates the place, what it stands for and what it will never be now. Justin suspects that Brian feels the same way.

When Brian disappeared for those two long months, Justin came here almost daily, just to check if Brian was here, because apart from Brian and him no one knew about this place. Justin was hoping that Brian would retreat here and that he wouldn’t mind Justin finding him because it was inconceivable to Justin that Brian was including him in the people he needed to get away from.

Since then Ted has found out about this place because Brian sent him to New York a year later to give Justin the deeds to the house and the keys. Justin was torn between being angry with Brian for being too much of a coward to do it himself and being devastated because it was the final straw. This house had been a symbol of how they finally managed to come together and Brian was giving it away! Because he no longer wanted it. Because he no longer wanted him.

Justin has hated Britin with a passion ever since. It’s now a symbol of failure and because of that, it feels sinister somehow. He only accepted it because Ted persuaded him - mainly by saying how much trouble he'd be in if he returned to Pittsburgh with Justin’s refusal. If Justin had thought that it would make Brian come to see him in person, he would have said no, but Ted was in a difficult enough position already and Justin was too upset to be decisive.

So now he owns this monstrosity - although Kinnetik still pays for the upkeep - but this is the first time he’s set foot in it since. If Justin had anywhere else to go, he would. On the other hand, it has the advantage of being secluded and its existence is unknown to anybody else in his make-shift family. It will afford him the peace he craves right now.

When he gets downstairs into the kitchen, he realizes that he hasn’t thought this through properly. The only food in the cupboards is a lonely unopened box of Cheerios and coffee, but there’s no milk. Justin thinks he could probably down the coffee without milk and starts the coffee maker. The gurgling of the machine drowns out the oppressing silence of the place. The fridge and the freezer are gleamingly clean but propped open to air out and he shuts both of them and plugs them in. He never before realized how much the soft humming of electrical appliances is part of the daily background noise of life. Its absence has a creepy quality to it.

He lasts for only half an hour before he picks up his cellphone, wallet and keys and makes his way out to his hired car. Last night, he nearly went off the road at a deceptively sharp bend about two miles from the house, but it’s not too bad during the day. It’s a known accident black spot and he thinks how he wouldn’t like to try and negotiate this road in the winter. No, living at Britin permanently is not really an option he'd consider, with or without Brian.

The diner is as quiet as it always is on Sundays in the early afternoon and it’s good to know that some things never change. Justin feels a little tired still, despite having slept until lunchtime, so it suits him not to be in the middle of a crowd.

Debbie’s face is a picture of surprise and affection when she sees him and she places the tray she’s carrying on a random table next to her, ignoring the protests of the customers sitting there, and comes to give him a long hug. Their greeting has that characteristic melancholy to it that all their dealings have nowadays. Sometimes it feels like the whole family has gone into a collective silence.

“How are you, Sunshine?”

He cringes a little at the nickname but only because he remembers Brian using it yesterday in that mocking tone that always accompanies it when he does. In general, it makes Justin feel at home when Debbie says it. She maneuvers him into one of the booths and delivers the abandoned tray before she comes to sit with him.

“Are you feeling better? Your mom said you were in hospital again.” She makes it sound as if he makes a habit of ending up in that place when this was only the second time in his life. Granted, he never goes there for anything less than a coma.

“I’m fine now,” he says dismissively and comes straight to the point. “I saw Brian.”

She nods a few times. “Yeah, I heard that. How is he?” There’s so much worry and sadness in her voice that it makes Justin want to weep. This is the reason they never talk about Brian, because it chokes him up more often than not and he’s not the only one.

“Don’t you know?”

“How can I? I never see him. Don’t know where he lives, what he does, who he fucks…”

Justin can’t help but smile a little at that last bit. That’s more like the Debbie he knows and loves.

“When was the last time you saw him?” he asks.

“A few weeks ago. He sat right where you’re sitting now.”

“How was he then?”

“Same as always. Quiet. Remote. Not really answering any questions. Just like you are now.”

“He was fine when I saw him,” Justin says and pulls a face. “Well, the same as you described him, but, you know, healthy.” And beautiful. And sexy. And so… severe. “What about Michael? When did he see Brian last?”

“I’m not sure. He has a lot more contact with him than any of us, but what that means exactly, I don’t know. The little shit never tells me anything.”

“Doesn’t anybody make sure that he’s alright?” Justin asks a little heatedly, and unfairly, he knows. He just had a week of Brian determining all aspects of their interaction and he knows that everyone else has even less of a chance of getting through to him. Well, except Michael, who always had a special place in Brian’s life.

“Justin,” Debbie says tiredly and he realizes for the first time how much older she looks under all the make-up she’s wearing. “Brian’s always done what he wants and he always made sure that everyone else does exactly what he wants, too. You’re the only one who never accepted that.”

“Are you saying that I was wrong?”

She shakes her head. “No, you were right and we were wrong. But that doesn’t mean that we can do what you can. Quite frankly, I’m already worried that he’ll never speak to me again if he ever finds out that I’m talking to you about him.”

Justin snorts mirthlessly at that. “Don’t worry. The only person who ever loses any privileges seems to be me.”

“Yeah, I can’t get my head around that either.” She leans over the table a bit and lightly taps his cheek a few times in a consoling gesture.

Justin orders a belated breakfast and when it arrives after Debbie has served a few more tables, she comes back and talks about her granddaughter for a while. Everybody was pleased when Lindsay and Melanie decided after only three months that Canada wasn’t for them. The Starbucks at the corner didn’t make up for having to get low-paid jobs and work longer hours, which just didn’t work out when they no longer had in-built babysitters in the form of the family. On top of that, Lindsay was so incredibly homesick that she could barely bring herself to get out of bed in the mornings.

And Debbie talks about Hunter, who’s now at college. And Michael and Ben. Ben had to change his medication again, but after a rough couple of weeks, the side effects have settled down now.

Justin reflects on how Sunday dinners seem to have fallen by the wayside without any objections from anybody and wonders if that’s the reason that Debbie’s here today, rather than at home.

When Debbie mentions that Michael is doing inventory at the shop today, he finishes his food and makes his way there. It’s always better to talk to Michael alone. He tends to get very defensive when there’re other people there and then Ben always interferes on his behalf. You can’t argue with Ben, he’s way too adept at deflection and mediation. Justin always ends up discussing his own anger instead.

It’s not that he intends to pick a fight with Michael. They’re business partners after all, even though Rage only comes out twice a year and generates what can only be described as meager revenues. Justin’s main source of income comes from mural painting, which he does on commission. It started fifteen months ago when he first met Owen and painted a mural for one of his interior design projects. From there it snowballed somehow and nowadays even Owen couldn’t afford to hire Justin anymore. Rage is just a hobby he’s rather fond of.

However, Michael sees Brian way more than anybody else does, apart from maybe Ted, and Justin won't back down this time until he gets to the bottom of what’s going on. It’s not possible that Brian split up with him for no reason at all and as he can no longer believe that lack of affection was to blame, he needs to know what was.

Perversely enough, it was Brian fucking Owen that convinced Justin that Brian still loves him. Brian wouldn’t have bothered to ‘fix’ Justin’s life if he didn’t care. It was Michael's thirtieth birthday party all over again and Brian was lucky that he didn’t end up getting punched in the face again, too.

It takes quite a while for Michael to answer to his persistent knocking. Finally, Michael sticks his head out of the storeroom and comes to the door when he recognizes him.

“Hey, Justin,” he smiles, re-locking the door after him.

“Hey, Michael.”

They don’t attempt to hug. They stopped doing that after Justin accused Michael one too many times of withholding information from him and they had a screaming match in Debbie’s kitchen. Things were said that can never be unsaid and, even though they’ve made up, there’s still some awkwardness. Justin really can’t help resenting Michael for remaining in Brian’s favor and for keeping Brian’s secrets, even though he knows he would do exactly the same if the roles were reversed. Both their loyalties have always been first and foremost to Brian.

Michael asks him about the drawings for Rage and Justin doesn’t think it would be a good idea to let on that he hasn’t started them yet, so he pretends that they’re at his New York apartment - which isn’t even his apartment anymore, but Michael doesn’t need to know that either. As the deadline is still a couple of months away, neither one of them is very concerned.

For a while, they fill each other in about what’s going on in their lives, with Justin downplaying his recent hospital visit and Michael talking at length about Ben’s health and his own. They do that nowadays, talk about mundane stuff like their health and the weather. Because, other than Rage, they no longer have anything in common.

“Brian was in New York,” Justin finally says.

Michael, who’s in the process of handing him a mug of steaming coffee, halts in his movements, and his features take on a panicked expression. He doesn’t move until Justin stretches out his hand to take his drink.

Letting go of the mug, Michael asks almost nonchalantly, but not quite, “What did he say?”

“Don’t you know? I thought you talk to him all the time.”

“Not all the time. He calls me whenever he’s in Pittsburgh.”

“Which is how often?”

“Justin. You know he doesn’t want me to tell you things.” Michael avoids looking at him by blowing in his coffee to cool it down.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what he says, just how often he calls. Once a week? Twice a week? Every day?”

Michael shrugs and Justin has to try really hard not to get angry. His response is a little heated despite his efforts. “How often, Michael? Because you’re the only one talking to him right now and it’s your responsibility to make sure he’s alright.”

“How can I be responsible for him when he doesn’t…” Michael blushes a little and falls silent.

And suddenly Justin has a frightening idea. “How often, Michael?” His voice is full of the foreboding that’s gripping his insides. “For once in your life, stop defending your territory as his ‘best friend’ and let us try and help him.”

“Less than that,” Michael says and looks at anything but Justin. After it's quiet in the storeroom for about a minute, while Justin stares at him, Michael adds, “About twice a month.”

“And when was the last time you saw him?” It comes out in a voice that sounds just as incredulous as he feels.

“About two months ago. I saw him during his lunch hour, at the diner.”

“Two m…” Justin can’t even finish his sentence he’s so stunned by the news. “But…” He thinks back on conversations they had over the last couple of years and while Justin was under the impression that Michael spoke to Brian all the time, he has to admit that the other man never actually said it in so many words.

“Do you mean to tell me, that for the past three years nobody’s been keeping an eye on him? He calls twice a month and sees you… what… half a dozen times a year and the rest of the time you left him to his own devices? After all that happened, you thought that was enough?”

“He won’t talk to anyone, Justin. We tried calling him, but he doesn’t answer his cell. We left messages, but he ignores those, too. We can’t get into Kinnetik anymore and, anyway, nobody ever knows when he’s even in the office. I’m afraid that if I push him, he’ll never speak to me again, like he does with you. I can’t lose him!”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“Because then you would have done something and he’d blame me. I’ve known him for twenty years. I miss him. You’ve no idea how much. I can’t lose what little he’s giving me at the moment. I guess I’m always hoping that he’ll get over it and, you know… be Brian again.”

Justin doubts very much that that’s likely to happen, but Michael looks so miserable that he can’t tell him that. Nor can he let out his frustration on him.

“He writes to me,” Michael carries on, nodding towards the back of the storeroom.

At first, Justin isn’t sure what he’s looking at, but then he notices that the back wall is plastered with postcards, which are tacked against the wooden cladding. He moves closer, drawn by the sheer quantity. There’re dozens of them, all showing pictures of hotels. His artist’s attention to detail notices straight away that a lot of them are duplicates.

He pulls one of them off the wall and reads it, not caring that they’re private. He’s willing to tear them all off, if it will give him an insight in what’s going on with Brian. Wish you were here? B. is all it says in what is undoubtedly Brian’s handwriting.

“They all say exactly the same,” Michael says. “Whenever he gets to a new place, he sends me a card with the hotel he’s in. Even if he’s been there before. So I always know where he is.”

Justin thinks it’s more like knowing where he was, because who knows where Brian is by the time the card reaches Pittsburgh?

“How many are there?”

“I don’t know. I get about one a week, sometimes two.”

There’s a long pause while Justin keeps looking at the wall. Brian has never been one to do the touristy things, like writing cards and buying souvenirs. If ever he brought anything back with him, it was always clothes that he picked up for Justin while he was trawling the designer stores in whatever city he happened to be. And Brian doesn't exactly travel for fun anyway, it’s usually business. Justin wonders why he started sending cards. And then he wonders what he'd have done if he'd gotten these over the last three years. It would have meant the world to him, just as it does to Michael. He tries to clamp down on his feelings of jealousy.

“What about Emmett?”

“Emmett says he sees him at Babylon sometimes.”

“And…?”

“And nothing. Brian says hello, they talk, he does what he does and that’s it… You really don’t get it! Just because we see him occasionally, doesn’t mean that we know more than you do. I don’t even fucking know where he lives nowadays. When I see him, it’s always at the diner or sometimes he comes here. He doesn’t even go to my mom’s house anymore.”

If Justin hadn't just spent a whole week with Brian feeling like Brian wasn’t really there, he would have scoffed at that. But he's beginning to understand that talking to Brian the way he is now doesn’t mean the same as it used to. He feels like he should be apologizing for the way he behaved in the past, accusing everyone of lying to him and not telling him what he wants to know. It’s obvious to him now that there’s simply nothing to tell.

“Justin,” Michael says quietly. “When you were in hospital and your mother called… I was too chicken shit to give her Brian’s number. We all were. We were all scared that he’d never speak to us again if we did. He said as much when he gave us his new number. But I’m sorry about that. Please, say sorry to your mom as well.”

“S’all right. I understand.”

“How did she get hold of him in the end?”

“Cynthia.”

“Of course. Well, I suppose he can’t cut her out of his life.”

“No, I suppose not. Just us.”

Justin walks around Liberty Avenue for two hours, just revisiting the places that meant so much to him when he was younger. He loves New York, has loved it there from day one, and if he didn’t have family here, he'd never come back. But as he’s sitting on the steps of Babylon, he feels at home, even though the club’s still closed for another four hours. He was happy here and desperately unhappy at times, too, but there was always Brian and that made it glorious when things were good and worth hanging on for when they weren't.

Justin knows that some people question that Brian did him any good. Brian’s lifestyle had such an emphasis on clubbing and sex and he was so convinced that it was the only honest way to be gay that Justin didn’t see that it wasn’t the be-all and end-all it seemed at seventeen. There are other people, who have different ways and are just as out and proud and just as happy. Only, they don’t get laid as often.

If Justin had met Ethan first, his life would have been very different and he may never have known the club lifestyle. But he looks at it differently. However much Justin did things because Brian expected them of him or because he wanted to show Brian that he could keep up or because Brian said this was the way to be and he believed him, Justin always enjoyed it and he’s fucked more men than he can count.

At twenty-six he can look back on his youth and know that he didn’t miss out on anything. He may have tired of the club life, but he wouldn’t have missed it for the world. It was fun, it was exciting, especially with Brian by his side and if he ever settles down, he won't be left wondering what it’s like to fuck other guys or go to the baths or have orgies. Now Justin wants a different kind of life, a different kind of relationship and before everything went to hell, he and Brian were moving in that direction. In Brian’s case it was slow at first, and then he somehow overtook Justin after the bombing and now… who knows what Brian wants now? Justin is determined to find out, but he needs to find Brian for that.

*

The next day, he’s at Kinnetik by ten o’clock. The security guard, who now guards the entrance, comes to life when he sees Justin, even though Justin has never met the guy before. Brian must be circulating his picture or something, because Justin finds his way blocked before he can put his hand on the glass door.

“Sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in.”

“I know that.” Justin's been here before - numerous times in the first year when he wouldn’t give up on seeing Brian. The security guards wouldn’t let him in and the fact that Brian hired someone for that very purpose said a lot about how serious he was about not wanting to see Justin. “Can you tell Cynthia that I’m here?”

The guy eyes him with suspicion as if he’s worried that Justin may try to slip past him while he’s distracted, which is a ludicrous idea because the guard is twice his size. Justin takes a few steps back and watches the man pull out his cell phone and telling Cynthia that ‘Mr. Taylor is at the front door’. Justin hates this. It’s hard for him that he’s no longer part of Brian’s inner circle and the fact that Brian has extended this dubious distinction to every other member of the family as well doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

Cynthia comes out with a big smile on her face and actually gives him a hug, the first one ever, as far as he can remember. Maybe this will be easier than he thought.

“I wanted to thank you for helping my mom out,” he says, deliberately not mentioning what Cynthia actually did, in case the guard will report it back to Brian and she’ll get into trouble.

“My mother has congestive heart failure and I know what it’s like to be stuck somewhere, worrying about someone you love. But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

Justin shakes his head and to his surprise, she makes an inviting gesture to come inside. The guard steps forward again.

“Brian’s not here, Sean,” Cynthia says tiredly. “And in his absence, you answer to me. If you’re worried about what he’ll say if he finds out, don’t tell him. I won’t. And if he does find out and says anything to you, refer him to me. I’ll take full responsibility.”

The guard, Sean, hesitates just a few more moments, then steps aside to let them pass silently. Justin can’t believe how privileged he feels to be back inside Kinnetik for the first time in three years.

Cynthia has always liked Justin. For the longest time she didn’t even know that there was someone, only that there was a Justin who called occasionally - very rarely really, about three or four times - and was a lot pleasanter to talk to than Michael. But that all changed after the bashing. Justin’s name was in the papers and so was Brian’s, who took time off work for the first time since she’d known him. She also read Howard Bellweather’s article about Brian in the local rag. If she hadn’t known Brian so well, she might even have agreed with the guy.

She'd always known about Brian’s sexual exploits. He never made a secret about them, at least not with her and to some extent she even colluded with him. Whenever he came back from a business trip with a new contract, she always asked him if they liked the idea or the fuck. Usually, he'd grin and say ‘both’ or if the client wasn't to his liking or female, he'd pull a disgusted face and shudder. So Cynthia had to ask herself if Brian was really the right type of company for a boy of seventeen, who was no doubt head over heels in love with him - who wouldn’t be? Only Brian was so different after he came back to work that she had no doubt about his feelings either. They never talked about it.

She knew Justin was the new intern in the Arts Department before Brian did. By then she'd gathered that Brian had been living with the boy, who'd crept up in their conversations with increasing frequency and that there had been a break-up. But she was sick of Brian being so abrasive with everyone, like he'd been for a few weeks by then and so she didn’t tell him. She was sorely tempted to make up an excuse to follow Brian to the Art Department when he met Justin there for the first time, but when she later asked her friend Abby what had happened - without mentioning why she was interested - Abby shrugged and said ‘nothing’. Brian Kinney, the master of the poker face.

When Brian opened Kinnetik, Justin was a frequent visitor. He was always polite and friendly and she got on well with him, sometimes better than she did with Brian, especially when he was in one of his moods. Justin was good for Brian. Brian was always different when Justin was around, not so much nicer, because he was always strictly professional, but more approachable and open somehow. Since Justin’s no longer in the picture, the whole atmosphere at Kinnetik has changed from exciting fun to severe professionalism. A bit like it was at Vangard and Ryder. And she knows it’s not only about Justin no longer being there, but she also knows that nothing will ever change if he doesn’t come back.

So Cynthia leads him, not into her own office but into Brian’s. Predictably, Justin hones in onto the large painting that's been up on the wall for almost a year now.

“I didn’t know he bought that.”

“He wanted it that way. It gets a lot of comments from visitors.” She waits for him to sit down because, even after three years, it still feels like Justin has a lot more right to play host in this place than she has. Only, Justin isn’t like that. He’s less about outward appearances and more about substance. Justin was always about Brian alone, not his money, not his power, just him.

“Can you help me?” he asks, looking at her with those big blue eyes.

Cynthia likes that he doesn’t try and trick her into anything. He’s very much like his mother, who simply told her what was going on and asked her for Brian’s phone number with not much more enticement than sounding so desperate.

“Justin…” she sighs.

“I just spent a week with Brian in New York and I know that he still loves me. I know you’re in a difficult position, but don’t you want him to be happy? I won’t tell him anything that you tell me. He’ll never know. I promise.”

She has to smile at that. He really is still like a tenacious teenager in some ways, who thinks that life will be great for everyone if people will just give him what he wants.

“What I was going to say was… if we do this, Justin, if I help you… we’ll have to be very careful. Brian will be fuming… but I’m sick of watching him being so miserable all the time. So I’m willing to risk it.”

Justin’s whole body sags in relief. “Thank you,” he says simply and breathes a few times to calm his nerves. “Can you tell me where he lives?”

“Actually, he doesn’t live anywhere.”

“What do you mean? He hardly sleeps under a bridge every night.”

“No, but try a hotel.”

“Even when he’s in Pittsburgh?”

“Even then. Mind you, he’s hardly ever here. There’s a business trip at least once a week, but this is the only fixed abode he’s had in the last three years.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would he do that?”

Cynthia shrugs. “So he can move on if someone pesters him?”

“Fuck, he actually told me that he doesn’t live anywhere - and I didn’t believe him.”

PART SIX:  http://kachelofen.livejournal.com/20903.html#cutid1