Breakneck (16/18)
Title: Breakneck
Author: methylethyl
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Justin watches the last vestiges of support crumble beneath his feet, sending him into freefall. He can only close his eyes and pray he’ll land somewhere soft.
Disclaimer: QAF & Co. does not belong to me.
Breakneck
Chapter 16: Eyes Shut
Remember all those times when Brian teased me for not being able to lie?
Yeah. Well. Apparently, I can do it when it counts.
"What the fuck did you do?" Brian practically thundered, making Luke whimper and coming rushing over to me.
"What do you mean, what did I do?" I asked, keeping my tone incredulous, my good hand reaching over and rubbing at Luke's head soothingly. "I got fucking attacked in a parking lot!"
"Oh, bull-fucking-shit," Brian all but snarled. "Kip Thomas shows up for the closing arguments with a busted nose, and he drops the suit-you just asked me last night if there was anything you could do, you little shit-I come over here and find you half-dead on the couch-"
"I got attacked in a parking lot!" I yelled furiously. I tried to push myself up, but the movement made pain rocket up my abdomen and into my ribs, and I stopped with a hiss, squeezing my eyes shut.
Luke prodded at my face anxiously, chanting my name. "Da, da, da, da, da…"
"Jesus Christ," Brian muttered.
"It was that asshole Chris Hobbs," I said through gritted teeth. I lay back on the couch, which hurt too, but less than it had to try to push myself up in the first place. "The one from school. He was trying to get to Luke but I wouldn't let him, and he attacked me. Michael chased him off, you can ask him."
"Michael?" Brian repeated incredulously.
I nodded. "It was in the parking lot of the Big Q."
"What the hell were you doing at the Big Q?"
"Shopping," I said, cracking my eyes open enough to glare at him. "I'm poor as shit, okay, and it's cheap."
Brian smoldered for a few minutes, still clearly set on believing that I had had something to do with Kip's busted nose and the subsequent dropping of the lawsuit.
Which, you know, I had.
And then Brian was pulling out his cell phone and punching in numbers. Probably calling Michael. Who, hopefully, would be dumb enough to just confirm that I'd been beaten up in the Big Q's parking lot today, and not mention my odd phone call to Daphne afterward. If there was ever a time when I would be grateful for Michael's less-than-genius level of intelligence, it would be now.
"Mikey!" Brian said cheerfully.
It occurred to me that Michael might just hang up on him.
"No-no, I know. You've mentioned it once or twice. Yes-I know, and-Jesus, Mikey, let me ask a fucking question!"
I winced.
Brian took in a deep breath. "Did you see Justin today at the Big Q?"
I supposed it should have hurt that he didn't trust me to tell him the truth, but it didn't. I mean, first of all, I was lying to him, and second of all, there was a lot of evidence that was pointing to me in this mess. Brian wasn't stupid.
Abruptly, I noticed Brian's eyes fixed on me.
"All right," he said, with a sort of false calm. "Nope, that was it. Have a good night with the doctor."
Luke had calmed down in the absence of yelling and was no longer mashing his hands anxiously into my face. He'd taken notice of the bag of ice on my hand and was trying to push it off, but he didn't appear to like how cold it was, so he was poking at with only one finger.
"No," I said gently, pulling his hand away from the pack. "Daddy needs that."
I heard Brian's phone snap shut and looked up.
"Well?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do you believe me now, or do you want to yell at me some more?"
"Tell me what happened," Brian ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I relayed the story to him, starting with Chris Hobbs yelling my name across the parking lot and ending with a lie about Daphne coming to the Big Q to help me with Luke once I got home. Brian listened quietly as I talked, and Luke walked in slow circles around the coffee table, murmuring to himself and completely lost in his own little world.
"So, what, Daphne just left you stranded on the couch?" Brian asked, when I'd finished.
"No," I said, glaring a little. "She had to leave for a family thing right before I fed Luke his dinner. And I'm not stranded, you know. I can move. It just hurts a lot."
"Right. Take your shirt off."
I blinked. "What?"
"Your shirt." Brian leaned down impatiently and yanked the hem of my shirt up.
"Hey!" I protested, my hands flying to my exposed stomach.
But Brian's eyes were already fixed on the bruises that had darkened since my encounter with Kip earlier in the day. Chris had only gotten three or four kicks in, and the clusters of purple on my stomach and chest reflected that. I thought that it would be better by tomorrow. It wasn't anything too serious, just some bruising, and there was no swelling, which meant no internal damage.
"And your hand," Brian said, holding out one of his own expectantly.
Reluctantly, I let the ice pack fall off my hand and held it up for inspection. The center of the back of my hand was swollen and bruised in shades of dark blue and green on both sides, which was probably the worst of it, though two of my fingers were also looking a bit swollen at the bases, and I couldn't move my wrist very much without inciting a whole hell of a lot of pain.
"It looks worse than it is," I said, though I wasn't sure how true that was.
"What the hell did he do to it?" Brian asked, turning it over gently.
"Stepped on it. And jerked it around, a bit," I replied.
This was officially weird.
Angry Brian, I could handle. Horny Brian, I could handle. But now Brian was acting almost… concerned. Concerned Brian, I did not know how to handle.
"So, that asshole dropped the lawsuit?" I asked hesitantly.
Brian glanced at me, and then gave me a jerky nod.
I let my face split into a grin, even though it hurt the bruise on my cheek. "That's fucking awesome! What happened?"
Brian shrugged. "He just dropped it. I don't know why. He's got a busted nose, though."
I smirked. "I got Chris Hobbs' nose today. Rammed the edge of the baby carrier right into it."
"Yeah, and he got your ribs, hand and face," Brian shot back irritably.
"Small victories," I said, shrugging-and then stopping quickly as my chest flared with pain. "Ow…"
"Well, there's no way you're going to Babylon tonight," Brian said, dropping my hand at last and changing the subject.
"Nope," I answered.
Brian eyed me for a moment, and then crossed over to sit in Vic's armchair. "You should get someone to look at your hand."
I used my good hand to move the ice pack back onto the top of it. "Maybe."
"You still under your parents' insurance?" Brian asked, his eyes suddenly narrowed.
I nodded. "Yeah. If I wasn't, I'd be in trouble. I'm a mess without my allergy meds."
Brian didn't say anything, and I turned my attention to Luke for a moment. He had stopped coasting around the coffee table at some point, and was now crawling under it in my direction with his stuffed hippo in one hand. I'd have to change his diaper before he went to bed, and I'd have to change him into a sleeper, with only one hand. Changing his clothes might not be so bad. Luke had recently started to 'help' me dress him, holding out arms and such. But the diaper change… And I'd have to carry him up the stairs, his squirmy little body against my bruised torso.
"You ought to have that motherfucker arrested, Chris whatever," Brian said abruptly.
I snorted, tearing my eyes away from Luke. "Yeah, right. Like anyone would listen to a little pussy faggot like me. They'd say I provoked him, and probably end up charging me with something."
Brian frowned. "When did you get so cynical?"
"Daphne says I have trust issues." I made a face. "I say she's full of shit."
Okay, so actually, Daphne did have a point about me not trusting any of the authority figures in my life. I didn't want to get into it unless I was using it as an argument to prove to Brian that I saw him as an equal, not as a substitute parent or something, because there was no way that I'd trust him like I did if I saw him as any kind of authority figure.
"So, what, you're just gonna let him stomp all over you-literally?" Brian asked. "Maybe you really are a pussy little faggot."
"You didn't have my dad arrested after he beat the shit out of you," I shot back, suddenly angry. "Does that make you a pussy little faggot? Does it?"
Brian's eyes narrowed. "That was different."
"Why?"
"Because I wasn't going to get your fucking father arrested, all right?"
I allowed myself approximately three seconds to mentally jump up and down because Brian was thinking about my feelings holy shit and then I was on him again.
"Bullshit," I said.
Brian stared. "Excuse me?"
"Maybe part of it was because you were trying to spare my feelings, but I remember what you were screaming about the morning after." I locked onto his gaze relentlessly. "You wouldn't-you couldn't see it as an attack. You saw it as a fight, a fight that you lost, and that was all that mattered. And who goes to the police because they couldn't hold their own in a fight?"
"Justin, what happened to you in the parking lot was not a fight," Brian said flatly.
"And neither was what happened between you and my father."
Brian worked his mouth, clearly frustrated with me. "Look-the two are not the same situation. I haven't seen your father since that night. You're going to see this asshole every day for another six months, and this isn't an isolated incident. He tried to fucking strangle you last week."
"I'm not having him arrested," I said firmly.
Brian blew out a breath, sitting back in the armchair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Thought you had more fight in you than that."
"Brian, in the last three months, I've had my friend die, become a full-time parent, come out of the closet, run away from home, been disowned by my parents, and I'm still dealing with the legal aftermath of Cal shooting himself in the head," I snapped. "I'm sorry if I don't want to add a trial to that mess. I'm done with drama, all right? I just want to move on."
"Whatever."
I scowled at him. "No, not 'whatever'. Try 'yes, Justin, I understand and respect your decision, even if I disagree with it'."
Brian snorted. "Not fucking likely."
I sighed and cast my eyes up to the ceiling.
Something soft landed on my chest, light enough to not cause me any pain, and I looked down to find Luke's stuffed hippo sitting on top of me. A glance to my left revealed Luke standing right next to me, a pleased little grin on his face.
"For me?" I asked tiredly, picking it up with my good hand.
"Da!" Luke replied happily.
"Thank you," I said, petting the soft hippo. A quick glance determined that Brian was sitting in the armchair watching, but I refused to feel self-conscious. I picked up the hippo and made it attack Luke's face with a growling noise, and Luke giggled and swiped at it, his stance wobbling without his hands on the couch.
I let him have the hippo after a moment, and he stood there with it clutched in both of his hands.
"Luke, go give your hippo to Brian," I said, pointing.
Luke turned his head to look at Brian, but wasn't interested. "Da!" he said, throwing the hippo at me and latching onto the couch again. He blew a raspberry at me.
I stuck my tongue out at him in response, and then pointed to Brian again. "See? Brian. Brian wants to play with you."
"Don't send him my way," Brian muttered.
Luke cracked a grin at him, and for a moment he looked like he was going to make a move toward Brian when all of a sudden he froze. He started to rock slightly, face twisting, and little "negh" grunting noises escaped from his mouth.
I held in a groan.
Brian eyed him warily. "He's not going to cry, is he?"
Luke's face had scrunched up, and it was getting redder by the second.
"No," I sighed. "He's pooping."
"Eugh."
Luke went at it for another moment or two, and then he let out a big breath and his face split into a happy grin.
"Once or twice, when he was younger," I told Brian conversationally, "he would stick his hand down the back of his diaper and pull the poop out."
The look on Brian's face was so utterly revolted that I burst out laughing-and then promptly groaned and clutched my ribcage. "Ow-ow, you made me laugh, you asshole…"
"I didn't make you laugh, you little shit."
Brian's horrified face flashed in my mind, and I struggled not to snicker.
A little whine from Luke made me stop, though, and turn my attention to him. His hands were pushing at his diaper through his romper, clearly unhappy with it now that it had been soiled.
"Diaper time," I muttered, making a face. The diaper bag was downstairs, so I wouldn't have to battle my way up the stairs to my bedroom yet, but I'd still have to stand and pick him up and change the diaper with one hand-how the hell was I going to hold his ankles and wipe his butt at the same time?
"Aaaahhhhh…" Luke whined, his face twisting as his hands continued to push at the diaper.
"Cranky, cranky, cranky," I said under my breath. If course he would choose tonight to be fussy about his diaper. Turning to Brian, I said, "You should go to Babylon and celebrate. I'll go out some other time."
"Right," Brian said.
Then he stood and scooped Luke up into his arms.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, tensing and wincing at the pain that flashed across my torso.
Brian glanced around the living room, apparently spotted what he was looking for, and then began heading in the direction of the door. "You have everything he needs in the diaper bag?"
My mouth fell open. "What-you're changing his diaper. Do you even know how to change a diaper?"
"Why the hell would I have changed a diaper before?" Brian snorted. He'd returned with the diaper bag over one shoulder.
"Gus?" I suggested.
"That's what the munchers are for," Brian replied, smirking.
I rolled my eyes, while mentally struggling to process the fact that Brian Kinney was going to change a diaper for me. "Do it on the coffee table so I can supervise."
Brian looked disgruntled that I didn't have faith in his ability to learn how to change a diaper through a combination of educated guesses and trial and error, but set Luke on the coffee table anyway.
"You owe me, like, thirty blow jobs for this," Brian informed me as he rummaged through the diaper bag. "Just so you know."
On the coffee table, Luke had rolled onto his stomach and had his eyes fixed on me.
"Clean diaper, wipes, baby powder, the blue towel," I reeled off for Brian. "Oh, and the little green washcloth for sure. Put the towel underneath him."
"Hold on, hold on," Brian grumbled, still rummaging through the diaper bag. "Christ. When was the last time you cleaned this thing out?"
I waited for him to finish bitching and rounding up supplies, and in the meantime made faces at Luke to keep him distracted.
"All right, towel," Brian eventually said, rolling it out. "No, wait, don't tell me. The next step is to get him out of the diaper."
I nodded. "But make sure you put the washcloth over his penis once you get it off, though. He loves to piss on people when they change his diaper."
*
Brian did not leave for Babylon after changing Luke's diaper. The ibuprofen that I'd taken earlier had finally started to kick in, so his next mission was to get me upstairs and into bed-it went well, except for the part where I was slammed with a wave of exhaustion halfway up, and by the time I got to the bedroom, I couldn't do much more than collapse on the bed and watch Brian get Luke changed for bed.
"He won't fall asleep for a while," I said, almost to myself. "It's not his bedtime yet. I should…"
I wasn't quite sure what I should do.
"You should go to bed," Brian said. He'd almost gotten Luke's sleeper on-Luke was having a grand time trying to roll off the bed, and exploded into giggles every time Brian caught him and rolled him back.
I shook my head. "I have to stay up until Debbie gets home. I have to tell her I can't go into work tomorrow."
Fuck. And I fucking needed that money, too.
"I'll write her a note. Go to sleep."
I struggled to keep my eyes open, but it was a losing battle. I was exhausted, everything in me hurt, and I couldn't wait to drop off to sleep and leave it all behind. I dimly registered the feeling of Luke trying to crawl on top of me, heard him squeal as Brian plucked him up and off of me… sounds of Brian settling him into his crib…
"Thanks for helping out," I mumbled, somewhat hazily.
"Yeah, well, don't count on me doing it again," Brian's voice came, sounding irritated but not irritated enough for it to actually register in my brain. "I'm not a fucking nursemaid, and if you get hurt again because you were too chickenshit to go after that Hobbs asshole, then it'll be your…"
I wasn't really listening to what he was saying by this point. Brian was talking to me. He'd been nice to me, he'd helped me out, and now he was talking to me. He was going to sign the guardianship papers for me when I asked him. He was talking to me.
A sleepy smile drifted onto my face.
"Fuck," Brian sighed, from somewhere just beyond the border of unconsciousness.
Everything was going to be okay.
*
If it hadn't been for Luke rattling the bars of his crib and practically yelling my name across the room the following morning, I don't think I would have gotten up until well into the afternoon. But Luke was awake by eight as always, and I was forced to get out of bed.
Brian had left a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water next to my bed. He was definitely getting at least two thank-you blowjobs for that.
This morning's pain was different than it had been last night. I could reasonably stand without feeling like my torso was being yanked apart, but now there was an overall soreness and stiffness in my body that made all movement painful. My hand throbbed a little more than it had yesterday, and it had swollen even more overnight and could not be moved at all. I'd have to get some kind of Ace bandage on it.
But I was able to pick Luke up and carry him down the stairs without keeling over in agony, so overall, I considered myself to be better off than I had been last night.
"Wow," Vic said as I entered the kitchen. "Brian wasn't exaggerating last night."
I frowned, but stopped when my cheek protested. "You talked to Brian?"
Vic nodded. "Sure. He was waiting for Sis and I when we got home last night."
Brian hadn't left? What had he done while I'd slept?
I furiously racked my brains for any other memories I might have had from last night, but all I could recall was drifting off to sleep as Brian bitched about how he wasn't a nursemaid. But he'd stayed for at least another hour, until Debbie and Vic had returned.
"Here, I'll get breakfast," Vic said, standing up. "You sit down and try to look a little less like a well-aimed fart wouldn't knock you over."
I thought about arguing, but the decided against it and placed Luke in his high chair before taking a seat at the table.
"Heard the lawsuit against Brian got dropped," Vic said conversationally as he pulled the box of Cheerios down from on top of the fridge. He raised his eyebrows at me as he dropped it on the table.
"Yeah," I said, my face splitting into painful grin. "It's great, isn't it?"
"It sure is," Vic agreed, smiling back. "Good timing, too."
I blinked at Vic's tone, my heart constricting, but when I met his eyes he winked.
Vic knew I'd had something to do with it.
"Guess he's a lucky guy," I said carefully.
"Lucky indeed."
And Vic said nothing more on the matter.
*
Debbie got home from the diner and immediately began mothering me to death. Then she yelled at me a bit for not calling her home last night, and tried to talk me into having Chris Hobbs arrested. And then she mothered me some more. She produced an Ace bandage for my hand, relieved me of Luke despite my protests, and insisted that I take tomorrow off from the diner, too. She also insisted that I talk to my mother when she, in a moment of bad timing, called that very afternoon.
"Really," I said, from under a pile of blankets on my bed. "I have nothing to say to her."
"Well, it sounds like she's got something to say to you," Debbie replied, yanking the covers back from my head.
I groaned.
"Sunshine," Debbie said sternly.
I scowled, but took the phone. She better not have told Mom what had happened yesterday.
"Hello?" I said as Debbie left the room.
"Justin," Mom said, sounding relieved. "Finally. I've been trying to get a hold of you all week."
"Yeah, I know." I made my annoyance clear.
I heard her sigh. "Sweetheart…"
And apparently, I didn't warrant much more than that.
"How did your finals go?" she asked.
"Fine. My SATs went well, too."
A startled pause.
"You took your SATs?"
"Yep," I said. "And I'm applying to college."
Hah. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
"I… didn't know you were still planning to go to college. That's wonderful, Justin," Mom said, after a long pause. "And are you enjoying your break from school? It must be nice. I know you've had a long semester."
"It's nice," I said mildly. "Look, if you just wanted to-"
"I wanted to have lunch with you," Mom interrupted. "Tomorrow or Tuesday-really, as soon as possible. You're welcome to bring Luke."
"Well, that's a first," I said, unable to help myself.
"Justin."
"Why do you want to have lunch?" I asked.
"There's some things I need to tell you," Mom answered. She now sounded slightly reluctant. "And I miss you. I want to make amends, and I'm hoping that what I have to tell you tomorrow will go toward that."
That caught my attention.
"I'll meet you at the Liberty Diner," I said, after a few moments of deliberation.
"The what?"
"The Liberty Diner. On Liberty Avenue." The Gay Diner on the Gay Street. "It's where I work."
"I didn't know you had a job," Mom said, sounding surprised. "You have time to work?"
"Sure I do," I replied casually.
"Oh." Mom paused. "Well, all right then. I'll meet you there at noon?"
"Sounds good."
It was only after I hung up that I remembered the nasty bruise on my face and my out-of-commission hand. Mom better not have a fit when she saw. I'd already been fussed over by Debbie enough to last me a lifetime, and she was the one with the actual right to do it.
*
I arrived at the diner the following day with Luke, only a few minutes early. The bruise on my face still looked pretty nasty, and my hand was still immobilized in an Ace bandage. The bruises on my chest and stomach had turned into a web of purples, greens and blues that were almost pretty-it reminded me of NASA photographs I'd seen of stellar nurseries. More importantly, though, I could move around without wincing too much.
I deliberately chose a table behind a group of bitchy-looking drag queens, and tried not to smirk when Mom came in, spotted me, and then spotted the drag queens and visibly faltered. Her hand fluttered around her chest for a moment as she took them in with wide eyes, but then she sucked in a breath and focused on me.
"Your face!" she cried, apparently just noticing it now. "Justin-and your hand! My God, what happened?"
"I was in a fight," I said casually.
Mom reached out and tipped my chin up, inspecting my face. "At school? Are people still giving you trouble? I can talk to the principal about it."
"It wasn't at school," I told her, jerking my face away. "It's fine."
"Not if you're fighting! Was it Daphne? I remembered she used to beat you up with you were little…"
"It wasn't Daphne," I said irritably. "It was Chris Hobbs, all right? He attacked me in a parking lot on Saturday. It's no big deal."
"Attacked?" Mom repeated incredulously. "He attacked you?"
I shrugged uncomfortably. "What do you care? Does 'my victimized son' go over better than 'my fist-fighting son' at the country club?"
Mom frowned. "Justin, there's no need for that kind of attitude."
"Look, you said you had some things to tell me," I said, steering us on track. I'd been hopeful despite myself when I'd come here, but after seeing how fast that conversation had devolved, all I wanted now was to get this over with. "Are you gonna tell me or not?"
Mom sighed, glanced around, and finally sat down. Her eyes went to the high chair that she'd previously ignored. "I see you brought Luke. I swear he gets bigger every time I see him."
I nodded.
"Is he walking yet?" Mom tried.
I shook my head. "No. We've been getting close, though. Can we stop making small talk?"
"Justin!" Sam said, striding up to our table from out of nowhere. "Heard you called off yesterday 'cause you were-oh, fuck, you really are hurt, aren't you? Shit, honey. We thought you just had a sore ass or something. And who's this fine lady?"
"My mother," I answered stiffly.
Sam's hand flew to his mouth. "Oh! Shit, honey. I'm sorry."
Mom was blinking a lot and staring off into the distance, like she was trying to valiantly process the thought of her son having gay sex and failing.
"It's okay," I said, offering Sam a quick grin.
"Right," Sam said, straightening and reaching for his pad. "So, what'll it be?"
"BLT, fries and a Dr. Pepper," I ordered, before turning to Mom. "Stay away from the meatloaf. And the chili. Anything else is all right."
"Mm," Sam said, shaking his head in agreement. "Wouldn't touch that chili with a ten-foot pole."
"Just a Caesar salad and a glass of water, then," Mom said after a moment, still not having quite gotten over Sam's comment.
"And anything for the little guy?" Sam asked.
I shook my head. "Nope. He's got his own food."
"All right. I'll get that right in for you, honey."
Sam disappeared, and I started rummaging through the diaper bag for Luke's lunch.
"So, what was it you were gonna tell me?" I asked, pulling out a little jar of squash.
Mom folded her hands, straightening a little. "Well. You see." She stopped, unfolded her hands and cast her eyes around, and then folded her hands again. "Justin…"
I raised my eyebrows, as Luke make excited noises about his impending squash serving.
"Your father and I are getting a divorce," Mom blurted out.
That made me stop.
"He's divorcing you?" I asked, wondering what the hell could have pushed my father to divorce Mom.
"No," Mom said, delivering the second shock of the day. "I'm divorcing him."
I stared.
Stared.
To my left, Luke was waving his arms, babbling loudly for his food, and eventually managed to whack my forearm.
"You," I said, coming back to myself. "You're divorcing him."
Mom nodded, looking almost… proud.
Mom. Divorcing Dad. Not only was she standing up for herself, but at the same time she was also casting off her status at the country club and putting herself in a financial position that was much less stable than the one she'd been lounging in for the last twenty years. She'd have to go back to work. She'd have to fight for custody of Molly.
"Why?" I asked, because it was the only real question coming to mind.
"I don't want you to think that we're doing this because of you," Mom said, reaching across the table to cover my hand with hers.
I jerked it back, busying myself with Luke's lunch.
"We've been having problems for a while, now, long before… before Luke came into our lives. It's just that you were my final straw." She leaned forward, hands perfectly folded and her hair perfectly coifed. "Justin, I love you. I miss you. But your father isn't as willing to compromise as I am, and I'm not willing to compromise my son out of my life."
"I…"
I tried to think of something to say other than you couldn't have done this two months ago? but I was failing.
"Please say something, honey," Mom said, eyes watching me desperately.
I shrugged one shoulder. "Congratulations, I guess. That's… I'm happy for you."
She broke out into a wide, relieved smile. "Thank you. It's going to take a while, of course, divorces don't happen overnight, but I want to go back to being a realtor and find a place of my own as soon as possible. I have a few friends helping me out right now. We've both gotten lawyers, and the process is being laid out for us…"
"Good," I said, nodding as I unscrewed the jar of squash.
Mom hesitated. "If you'd like, I could make sure to have a room for you and Luke… at the new house."
"That's really not-"
Wait.
"Mom, are you going to be able to keep paying Debbie for Luke and I?"
Luke finally got a spoonful of squash, and swallowed quickly and then opened his mouth for more.
Mom sighed, her eyes going down her hands. "I'd like to say yes. I'll say yes for now. But that could change."
Well, shit. That could be a problem.
But it wasn't like me living with Mom would save her any money. In fact, it would only end up costing her more. Also, I really didn't want to live with her again.
"I think that relocating would be a bad idea right now," I told her firmly. "Luke's finally gotten settled at Debbie's, and Vic's essentially a live-in nanny who works for free. And Debbie's house is close to the diner."
"All right," Mom said, nodding and looking only a little disappointed.
"Also…" I hesitated, fed Luke another spoonful of squash. "I'm thinking that I'm going to get my own place, when I graduate."
Mom's eyebrows rose. "Really?"
I nodded.
"And do what?" she asked.
After a moment or two of deliberation, I began to tell her my plan for college. She listened with rapt attention, and the conversation did not devolve into an argument.
So Mom was divorcing Dad. She was standing up to him, after years of skulking around behind his back, and it made me hope for the first time in weeks that maybe we could fix what had been broken between us. And maybe… Maybe I was willing to give her a chance to try.
*
"That Pam lady called for you again," Vic said, when I got home. "And so did some guy named Paul Schalch. Left a number."
Right. Paul Schalch.
"Giving out your number at Babylon?" Vic asked, raising an eyebrow.
I sighed, setting Luke's carrier down on the ground. "No. He's the executor of Mr. Anderson's will. I have to call him back and talk about what to do with the estate."
"Number's on the fridge if you're going to call him," Vic said, indicating the kitchen with the tip of his head.
"Yeah, I will," I decided. "I already know his number, though. Can you watch Luke for a few minutes?"
"Sure thing, kiddo."
It had become a pattern over the last few months that when shit happened, I would deal with it, come home, and then call Daphne and tell her about it. She would rant on my behalf or drag my feelings out or do whatever I needed her to do for me in that moment, whether or not I actually knew that I needed it. The knowledge of my parents' impending divorce was hitting me strangely-accordingly, I should want to call Daphne and tell her what had happened. She would make me feel better.
But I didn't want Daphne.
I wanted Brian.
*
Unfortunately, Brian was at work and wasn't picking up his cell phone. So I ended up calling Daphne anyway.
"Divorced?" she repeated, sounding about as stunned as I felt. "Your mom? Seriously?"
"I know, right?"
"Shit, Justin." She blew out a breath. "Shit. That sucks. I mean, it's kind of awesome, but at the same time it totally sucks, you know?"
I rolled my eyes. "Eloquent."
"So… So what does this mean for you?" Daphne asked, ignoring my remark.
"Not a lot," I answered, shrugging. Quiet pain flared up my chest, but I ignored it. "I mean, I'm disowned in everything but the paperwork. It's not like Dad wants custody of me. Mom asked me to move in with her, when she gets her own place, but I said no."
"Are you still mad at her?"
"I don't know. I guess." This really wasn't helping as much as it usually did. I didn't want an interrogation right now-I didn't need one, either. I just… wanted someone to make me feel less weird inside. Like Brian.
"You should give her a second chance," Daphne suggested. "This is what you wanted, right? For her to stand up for herself and for you?"
"She said that she and my dad have been having problems for years-excuse me for not jumping to my feet and applauding her for a divorce that's five years too late."
"All right, all right, don't give her a second chance," Daphne said, sounding as though she was rolling her eyes. "Fine."
This was not what I wanted right now.
"So what's going to happen to Mol-"
"Daph, I've got to go," I interrupted. I thought up a lie quickly. "Luke's fussing about his diaper."
"Oh." She paused. "Sure. You want me to come over? I'll bring a season of Buffy."
"No, it's all right. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Okay."
We said goodbye and I hung up.
Paul Schalch was next on my call list, but the person that I really wanted to call was Brian. Of course, he was probably going to be acting like a huge asshole after he'd been so nice to me on Saturday, so talking to him over the phone was probably out, as was dropping by the loft later tonight. So what did that leave me?
I picked up the phone and dialed, listening as it rang four times and then went on to voice mail.
"Hey," I said, when the answering machine clicked on. "I wanted to tell you that I dreamed about you last night. You were showing me how to use those purple anal beads of yours. I think we were at Babylon… in the backroom… I think everyone was watching." Pause. "You should come over and fuck me tonight. I'm horny."
Part 17
Author: methylethyl
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Justin watches the last vestiges of support crumble beneath his feet, sending him into freefall. He can only close his eyes and pray he’ll land somewhere soft.
Disclaimer: QAF & Co. does not belong to me.
Breakneck
Chapter 16: Eyes Shut
Remember all those times when Brian teased me for not being able to lie?
Yeah. Well. Apparently, I can do it when it counts.
"What the fuck did you do?" Brian practically thundered, making Luke whimper and coming rushing over to me.
"What do you mean, what did I do?" I asked, keeping my tone incredulous, my good hand reaching over and rubbing at Luke's head soothingly. "I got fucking attacked in a parking lot!"
"Oh, bull-fucking-shit," Brian all but snarled. "Kip Thomas shows up for the closing arguments with a busted nose, and he drops the suit-you just asked me last night if there was anything you could do, you little shit-I come over here and find you half-dead on the couch-"
"I got attacked in a parking lot!" I yelled furiously. I tried to push myself up, but the movement made pain rocket up my abdomen and into my ribs, and I stopped with a hiss, squeezing my eyes shut.
Luke prodded at my face anxiously, chanting my name. "Da, da, da, da, da…"
"Jesus Christ," Brian muttered.
"It was that asshole Chris Hobbs," I said through gritted teeth. I lay back on the couch, which hurt too, but less than it had to try to push myself up in the first place. "The one from school. He was trying to get to Luke but I wouldn't let him, and he attacked me. Michael chased him off, you can ask him."
"Michael?" Brian repeated incredulously.
I nodded. "It was in the parking lot of the Big Q."
"What the hell were you doing at the Big Q?"
"Shopping," I said, cracking my eyes open enough to glare at him. "I'm poor as shit, okay, and it's cheap."
Brian smoldered for a few minutes, still clearly set on believing that I had had something to do with Kip's busted nose and the subsequent dropping of the lawsuit.
Which, you know, I had.
And then Brian was pulling out his cell phone and punching in numbers. Probably calling Michael. Who, hopefully, would be dumb enough to just confirm that I'd been beaten up in the Big Q's parking lot today, and not mention my odd phone call to Daphne afterward. If there was ever a time when I would be grateful for Michael's less-than-genius level of intelligence, it would be now.
"Mikey!" Brian said cheerfully.
It occurred to me that Michael might just hang up on him.
"No-no, I know. You've mentioned it once or twice. Yes-I know, and-Jesus, Mikey, let me ask a fucking question!"
I winced.
Brian took in a deep breath. "Did you see Justin today at the Big Q?"
I supposed it should have hurt that he didn't trust me to tell him the truth, but it didn't. I mean, first of all, I was lying to him, and second of all, there was a lot of evidence that was pointing to me in this mess. Brian wasn't stupid.
Abruptly, I noticed Brian's eyes fixed on me.
"All right," he said, with a sort of false calm. "Nope, that was it. Have a good night with the doctor."
Luke had calmed down in the absence of yelling and was no longer mashing his hands anxiously into my face. He'd taken notice of the bag of ice on my hand and was trying to push it off, but he didn't appear to like how cold it was, so he was poking at with only one finger.
"No," I said gently, pulling his hand away from the pack. "Daddy needs that."
I heard Brian's phone snap shut and looked up.
"Well?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do you believe me now, or do you want to yell at me some more?"
"Tell me what happened," Brian ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I relayed the story to him, starting with Chris Hobbs yelling my name across the parking lot and ending with a lie about Daphne coming to the Big Q to help me with Luke once I got home. Brian listened quietly as I talked, and Luke walked in slow circles around the coffee table, murmuring to himself and completely lost in his own little world.
"So, what, Daphne just left you stranded on the couch?" Brian asked, when I'd finished.
"No," I said, glaring a little. "She had to leave for a family thing right before I fed Luke his dinner. And I'm not stranded, you know. I can move. It just hurts a lot."
"Right. Take your shirt off."
I blinked. "What?"
"Your shirt." Brian leaned down impatiently and yanked the hem of my shirt up.
"Hey!" I protested, my hands flying to my exposed stomach.
But Brian's eyes were already fixed on the bruises that had darkened since my encounter with Kip earlier in the day. Chris had only gotten three or four kicks in, and the clusters of purple on my stomach and chest reflected that. I thought that it would be better by tomorrow. It wasn't anything too serious, just some bruising, and there was no swelling, which meant no internal damage.
"And your hand," Brian said, holding out one of his own expectantly.
Reluctantly, I let the ice pack fall off my hand and held it up for inspection. The center of the back of my hand was swollen and bruised in shades of dark blue and green on both sides, which was probably the worst of it, though two of my fingers were also looking a bit swollen at the bases, and I couldn't move my wrist very much without inciting a whole hell of a lot of pain.
"It looks worse than it is," I said, though I wasn't sure how true that was.
"What the hell did he do to it?" Brian asked, turning it over gently.
"Stepped on it. And jerked it around, a bit," I replied.
This was officially weird.
Angry Brian, I could handle. Horny Brian, I could handle. But now Brian was acting almost… concerned. Concerned Brian, I did not know how to handle.
"So, that asshole dropped the lawsuit?" I asked hesitantly.
Brian glanced at me, and then gave me a jerky nod.
I let my face split into a grin, even though it hurt the bruise on my cheek. "That's fucking awesome! What happened?"
Brian shrugged. "He just dropped it. I don't know why. He's got a busted nose, though."
I smirked. "I got Chris Hobbs' nose today. Rammed the edge of the baby carrier right into it."
"Yeah, and he got your ribs, hand and face," Brian shot back irritably.
"Small victories," I said, shrugging-and then stopping quickly as my chest flared with pain. "Ow…"
"Well, there's no way you're going to Babylon tonight," Brian said, dropping my hand at last and changing the subject.
"Nope," I answered.
Brian eyed me for a moment, and then crossed over to sit in Vic's armchair. "You should get someone to look at your hand."
I used my good hand to move the ice pack back onto the top of it. "Maybe."
"You still under your parents' insurance?" Brian asked, his eyes suddenly narrowed.
I nodded. "Yeah. If I wasn't, I'd be in trouble. I'm a mess without my allergy meds."
Brian didn't say anything, and I turned my attention to Luke for a moment. He had stopped coasting around the coffee table at some point, and was now crawling under it in my direction with his stuffed hippo in one hand. I'd have to change his diaper before he went to bed, and I'd have to change him into a sleeper, with only one hand. Changing his clothes might not be so bad. Luke had recently started to 'help' me dress him, holding out arms and such. But the diaper change… And I'd have to carry him up the stairs, his squirmy little body against my bruised torso.
"You ought to have that motherfucker arrested, Chris whatever," Brian said abruptly.
I snorted, tearing my eyes away from Luke. "Yeah, right. Like anyone would listen to a little pussy faggot like me. They'd say I provoked him, and probably end up charging me with something."
Brian frowned. "When did you get so cynical?"
"Daphne says I have trust issues." I made a face. "I say she's full of shit."
Okay, so actually, Daphne did have a point about me not trusting any of the authority figures in my life. I didn't want to get into it unless I was using it as an argument to prove to Brian that I saw him as an equal, not as a substitute parent or something, because there was no way that I'd trust him like I did if I saw him as any kind of authority figure.
"So, what, you're just gonna let him stomp all over you-literally?" Brian asked. "Maybe you really are a pussy little faggot."
"You didn't have my dad arrested after he beat the shit out of you," I shot back, suddenly angry. "Does that make you a pussy little faggot? Does it?"
Brian's eyes narrowed. "That was different."
"Why?"
"Because I wasn't going to get your fucking father arrested, all right?"
I allowed myself approximately three seconds to mentally jump up and down because Brian was thinking about my feelings holy shit and then I was on him again.
"Bullshit," I said.
Brian stared. "Excuse me?"
"Maybe part of it was because you were trying to spare my feelings, but I remember what you were screaming about the morning after." I locked onto his gaze relentlessly. "You wouldn't-you couldn't see it as an attack. You saw it as a fight, a fight that you lost, and that was all that mattered. And who goes to the police because they couldn't hold their own in a fight?"
"Justin, what happened to you in the parking lot was not a fight," Brian said flatly.
"And neither was what happened between you and my father."
Brian worked his mouth, clearly frustrated with me. "Look-the two are not the same situation. I haven't seen your father since that night. You're going to see this asshole every day for another six months, and this isn't an isolated incident. He tried to fucking strangle you last week."
"I'm not having him arrested," I said firmly.
Brian blew out a breath, sitting back in the armchair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Thought you had more fight in you than that."
"Brian, in the last three months, I've had my friend die, become a full-time parent, come out of the closet, run away from home, been disowned by my parents, and I'm still dealing with the legal aftermath of Cal shooting himself in the head," I snapped. "I'm sorry if I don't want to add a trial to that mess. I'm done with drama, all right? I just want to move on."
"Whatever."
I scowled at him. "No, not 'whatever'. Try 'yes, Justin, I understand and respect your decision, even if I disagree with it'."
Brian snorted. "Not fucking likely."
I sighed and cast my eyes up to the ceiling.
Something soft landed on my chest, light enough to not cause me any pain, and I looked down to find Luke's stuffed hippo sitting on top of me. A glance to my left revealed Luke standing right next to me, a pleased little grin on his face.
"For me?" I asked tiredly, picking it up with my good hand.
"Da!" Luke replied happily.
"Thank you," I said, petting the soft hippo. A quick glance determined that Brian was sitting in the armchair watching, but I refused to feel self-conscious. I picked up the hippo and made it attack Luke's face with a growling noise, and Luke giggled and swiped at it, his stance wobbling without his hands on the couch.
I let him have the hippo after a moment, and he stood there with it clutched in both of his hands.
"Luke, go give your hippo to Brian," I said, pointing.
Luke turned his head to look at Brian, but wasn't interested. "Da!" he said, throwing the hippo at me and latching onto the couch again. He blew a raspberry at me.
I stuck my tongue out at him in response, and then pointed to Brian again. "See? Brian. Brian wants to play with you."
"Don't send him my way," Brian muttered.
Luke cracked a grin at him, and for a moment he looked like he was going to make a move toward Brian when all of a sudden he froze. He started to rock slightly, face twisting, and little "negh" grunting noises escaped from his mouth.
I held in a groan.
Brian eyed him warily. "He's not going to cry, is he?"
Luke's face had scrunched up, and it was getting redder by the second.
"No," I sighed. "He's pooping."
"Eugh."
Luke went at it for another moment or two, and then he let out a big breath and his face split into a happy grin.
"Once or twice, when he was younger," I told Brian conversationally, "he would stick his hand down the back of his diaper and pull the poop out."
The look on Brian's face was so utterly revolted that I burst out laughing-and then promptly groaned and clutched my ribcage. "Ow-ow, you made me laugh, you asshole…"
"I didn't make you laugh, you little shit."
Brian's horrified face flashed in my mind, and I struggled not to snicker.
A little whine from Luke made me stop, though, and turn my attention to him. His hands were pushing at his diaper through his romper, clearly unhappy with it now that it had been soiled.
"Diaper time," I muttered, making a face. The diaper bag was downstairs, so I wouldn't have to battle my way up the stairs to my bedroom yet, but I'd still have to stand and pick him up and change the diaper with one hand-how the hell was I going to hold his ankles and wipe his butt at the same time?
"Aaaahhhhh…" Luke whined, his face twisting as his hands continued to push at the diaper.
"Cranky, cranky, cranky," I said under my breath. If course he would choose tonight to be fussy about his diaper. Turning to Brian, I said, "You should go to Babylon and celebrate. I'll go out some other time."
"Right," Brian said.
Then he stood and scooped Luke up into his arms.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, tensing and wincing at the pain that flashed across my torso.
Brian glanced around the living room, apparently spotted what he was looking for, and then began heading in the direction of the door. "You have everything he needs in the diaper bag?"
My mouth fell open. "What-you're changing his diaper. Do you even know how to change a diaper?"
"Why the hell would I have changed a diaper before?" Brian snorted. He'd returned with the diaper bag over one shoulder.
"Gus?" I suggested.
"That's what the munchers are for," Brian replied, smirking.
I rolled my eyes, while mentally struggling to process the fact that Brian Kinney was going to change a diaper for me. "Do it on the coffee table so I can supervise."
Brian looked disgruntled that I didn't have faith in his ability to learn how to change a diaper through a combination of educated guesses and trial and error, but set Luke on the coffee table anyway.
"You owe me, like, thirty blow jobs for this," Brian informed me as he rummaged through the diaper bag. "Just so you know."
On the coffee table, Luke had rolled onto his stomach and had his eyes fixed on me.
"Clean diaper, wipes, baby powder, the blue towel," I reeled off for Brian. "Oh, and the little green washcloth for sure. Put the towel underneath him."
"Hold on, hold on," Brian grumbled, still rummaging through the diaper bag. "Christ. When was the last time you cleaned this thing out?"
I waited for him to finish bitching and rounding up supplies, and in the meantime made faces at Luke to keep him distracted.
"All right, towel," Brian eventually said, rolling it out. "No, wait, don't tell me. The next step is to get him out of the diaper."
I nodded. "But make sure you put the washcloth over his penis once you get it off, though. He loves to piss on people when they change his diaper."
*
Brian did not leave for Babylon after changing Luke's diaper. The ibuprofen that I'd taken earlier had finally started to kick in, so his next mission was to get me upstairs and into bed-it went well, except for the part where I was slammed with a wave of exhaustion halfway up, and by the time I got to the bedroom, I couldn't do much more than collapse on the bed and watch Brian get Luke changed for bed.
"He won't fall asleep for a while," I said, almost to myself. "It's not his bedtime yet. I should…"
I wasn't quite sure what I should do.
"You should go to bed," Brian said. He'd almost gotten Luke's sleeper on-Luke was having a grand time trying to roll off the bed, and exploded into giggles every time Brian caught him and rolled him back.
I shook my head. "I have to stay up until Debbie gets home. I have to tell her I can't go into work tomorrow."
Fuck. And I fucking needed that money, too.
"I'll write her a note. Go to sleep."
I struggled to keep my eyes open, but it was a losing battle. I was exhausted, everything in me hurt, and I couldn't wait to drop off to sleep and leave it all behind. I dimly registered the feeling of Luke trying to crawl on top of me, heard him squeal as Brian plucked him up and off of me… sounds of Brian settling him into his crib…
"Thanks for helping out," I mumbled, somewhat hazily.
"Yeah, well, don't count on me doing it again," Brian's voice came, sounding irritated but not irritated enough for it to actually register in my brain. "I'm not a fucking nursemaid, and if you get hurt again because you were too chickenshit to go after that Hobbs asshole, then it'll be your…"
I wasn't really listening to what he was saying by this point. Brian was talking to me. He'd been nice to me, he'd helped me out, and now he was talking to me. He was going to sign the guardianship papers for me when I asked him. He was talking to me.
A sleepy smile drifted onto my face.
"Fuck," Brian sighed, from somewhere just beyond the border of unconsciousness.
Everything was going to be okay.
*
If it hadn't been for Luke rattling the bars of his crib and practically yelling my name across the room the following morning, I don't think I would have gotten up until well into the afternoon. But Luke was awake by eight as always, and I was forced to get out of bed.
Brian had left a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water next to my bed. He was definitely getting at least two thank-you blowjobs for that.
This morning's pain was different than it had been last night. I could reasonably stand without feeling like my torso was being yanked apart, but now there was an overall soreness and stiffness in my body that made all movement painful. My hand throbbed a little more than it had yesterday, and it had swollen even more overnight and could not be moved at all. I'd have to get some kind of Ace bandage on it.
But I was able to pick Luke up and carry him down the stairs without keeling over in agony, so overall, I considered myself to be better off than I had been last night.
"Wow," Vic said as I entered the kitchen. "Brian wasn't exaggerating last night."
I frowned, but stopped when my cheek protested. "You talked to Brian?"
Vic nodded. "Sure. He was waiting for Sis and I when we got home last night."
Brian hadn't left? What had he done while I'd slept?
I furiously racked my brains for any other memories I might have had from last night, but all I could recall was drifting off to sleep as Brian bitched about how he wasn't a nursemaid. But he'd stayed for at least another hour, until Debbie and Vic had returned.
"Here, I'll get breakfast," Vic said, standing up. "You sit down and try to look a little less like a well-aimed fart wouldn't knock you over."
I thought about arguing, but the decided against it and placed Luke in his high chair before taking a seat at the table.
"Heard the lawsuit against Brian got dropped," Vic said conversationally as he pulled the box of Cheerios down from on top of the fridge. He raised his eyebrows at me as he dropped it on the table.
"Yeah," I said, my face splitting into painful grin. "It's great, isn't it?"
"It sure is," Vic agreed, smiling back. "Good timing, too."
I blinked at Vic's tone, my heart constricting, but when I met his eyes he winked.
Vic knew I'd had something to do with it.
"Guess he's a lucky guy," I said carefully.
"Lucky indeed."
And Vic said nothing more on the matter.
*
Debbie got home from the diner and immediately began mothering me to death. Then she yelled at me a bit for not calling her home last night, and tried to talk me into having Chris Hobbs arrested. And then she mothered me some more. She produced an Ace bandage for my hand, relieved me of Luke despite my protests, and insisted that I take tomorrow off from the diner, too. She also insisted that I talk to my mother when she, in a moment of bad timing, called that very afternoon.
"Really," I said, from under a pile of blankets on my bed. "I have nothing to say to her."
"Well, it sounds like she's got something to say to you," Debbie replied, yanking the covers back from my head.
I groaned.
"Sunshine," Debbie said sternly.
I scowled, but took the phone. She better not have told Mom what had happened yesterday.
"Hello?" I said as Debbie left the room.
"Justin," Mom said, sounding relieved. "Finally. I've been trying to get a hold of you all week."
"Yeah, I know." I made my annoyance clear.
I heard her sigh. "Sweetheart…"
And apparently, I didn't warrant much more than that.
"How did your finals go?" she asked.
"Fine. My SATs went well, too."
A startled pause.
"You took your SATs?"
"Yep," I said. "And I'm applying to college."
Hah. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
"I… didn't know you were still planning to go to college. That's wonderful, Justin," Mom said, after a long pause. "And are you enjoying your break from school? It must be nice. I know you've had a long semester."
"It's nice," I said mildly. "Look, if you just wanted to-"
"I wanted to have lunch with you," Mom interrupted. "Tomorrow or Tuesday-really, as soon as possible. You're welcome to bring Luke."
"Well, that's a first," I said, unable to help myself.
"Justin."
"Why do you want to have lunch?" I asked.
"There's some things I need to tell you," Mom answered. She now sounded slightly reluctant. "And I miss you. I want to make amends, and I'm hoping that what I have to tell you tomorrow will go toward that."
That caught my attention.
"I'll meet you at the Liberty Diner," I said, after a few moments of deliberation.
"The what?"
"The Liberty Diner. On Liberty Avenue." The Gay Diner on the Gay Street. "It's where I work."
"I didn't know you had a job," Mom said, sounding surprised. "You have time to work?"
"Sure I do," I replied casually.
"Oh." Mom paused. "Well, all right then. I'll meet you there at noon?"
"Sounds good."
It was only after I hung up that I remembered the nasty bruise on my face and my out-of-commission hand. Mom better not have a fit when she saw. I'd already been fussed over by Debbie enough to last me a lifetime, and she was the one with the actual right to do it.
*
I arrived at the diner the following day with Luke, only a few minutes early. The bruise on my face still looked pretty nasty, and my hand was still immobilized in an Ace bandage. The bruises on my chest and stomach had turned into a web of purples, greens and blues that were almost pretty-it reminded me of NASA photographs I'd seen of stellar nurseries. More importantly, though, I could move around without wincing too much.
I deliberately chose a table behind a group of bitchy-looking drag queens, and tried not to smirk when Mom came in, spotted me, and then spotted the drag queens and visibly faltered. Her hand fluttered around her chest for a moment as she took them in with wide eyes, but then she sucked in a breath and focused on me.
"Your face!" she cried, apparently just noticing it now. "Justin-and your hand! My God, what happened?"
"I was in a fight," I said casually.
Mom reached out and tipped my chin up, inspecting my face. "At school? Are people still giving you trouble? I can talk to the principal about it."
"It wasn't at school," I told her, jerking my face away. "It's fine."
"Not if you're fighting! Was it Daphne? I remembered she used to beat you up with you were little…"
"It wasn't Daphne," I said irritably. "It was Chris Hobbs, all right? He attacked me in a parking lot on Saturday. It's no big deal."
"Attacked?" Mom repeated incredulously. "He attacked you?"
I shrugged uncomfortably. "What do you care? Does 'my victimized son' go over better than 'my fist-fighting son' at the country club?"
Mom frowned. "Justin, there's no need for that kind of attitude."
"Look, you said you had some things to tell me," I said, steering us on track. I'd been hopeful despite myself when I'd come here, but after seeing how fast that conversation had devolved, all I wanted now was to get this over with. "Are you gonna tell me or not?"
Mom sighed, glanced around, and finally sat down. Her eyes went to the high chair that she'd previously ignored. "I see you brought Luke. I swear he gets bigger every time I see him."
I nodded.
"Is he walking yet?" Mom tried.
I shook my head. "No. We've been getting close, though. Can we stop making small talk?"
"Justin!" Sam said, striding up to our table from out of nowhere. "Heard you called off yesterday 'cause you were-oh, fuck, you really are hurt, aren't you? Shit, honey. We thought you just had a sore ass or something. And who's this fine lady?"
"My mother," I answered stiffly.
Sam's hand flew to his mouth. "Oh! Shit, honey. I'm sorry."
Mom was blinking a lot and staring off into the distance, like she was trying to valiantly process the thought of her son having gay sex and failing.
"It's okay," I said, offering Sam a quick grin.
"Right," Sam said, straightening and reaching for his pad. "So, what'll it be?"
"BLT, fries and a Dr. Pepper," I ordered, before turning to Mom. "Stay away from the meatloaf. And the chili. Anything else is all right."
"Mm," Sam said, shaking his head in agreement. "Wouldn't touch that chili with a ten-foot pole."
"Just a Caesar salad and a glass of water, then," Mom said after a moment, still not having quite gotten over Sam's comment.
"And anything for the little guy?" Sam asked.
I shook my head. "Nope. He's got his own food."
"All right. I'll get that right in for you, honey."
Sam disappeared, and I started rummaging through the diaper bag for Luke's lunch.
"So, what was it you were gonna tell me?" I asked, pulling out a little jar of squash.
Mom folded her hands, straightening a little. "Well. You see." She stopped, unfolded her hands and cast her eyes around, and then folded her hands again. "Justin…"
I raised my eyebrows, as Luke make excited noises about his impending squash serving.
"Your father and I are getting a divorce," Mom blurted out.
That made me stop.
"He's divorcing you?" I asked, wondering what the hell could have pushed my father to divorce Mom.
"No," Mom said, delivering the second shock of the day. "I'm divorcing him."
I stared.
Stared.
To my left, Luke was waving his arms, babbling loudly for his food, and eventually managed to whack my forearm.
"You," I said, coming back to myself. "You're divorcing him."
Mom nodded, looking almost… proud.
Mom. Divorcing Dad. Not only was she standing up for herself, but at the same time she was also casting off her status at the country club and putting herself in a financial position that was much less stable than the one she'd been lounging in for the last twenty years. She'd have to go back to work. She'd have to fight for custody of Molly.
"Why?" I asked, because it was the only real question coming to mind.
"I don't want you to think that we're doing this because of you," Mom said, reaching across the table to cover my hand with hers.
I jerked it back, busying myself with Luke's lunch.
"We've been having problems for a while, now, long before… before Luke came into our lives. It's just that you were my final straw." She leaned forward, hands perfectly folded and her hair perfectly coifed. "Justin, I love you. I miss you. But your father isn't as willing to compromise as I am, and I'm not willing to compromise my son out of my life."
"I…"
I tried to think of something to say other than you couldn't have done this two months ago? but I was failing.
"Please say something, honey," Mom said, eyes watching me desperately.
I shrugged one shoulder. "Congratulations, I guess. That's… I'm happy for you."
She broke out into a wide, relieved smile. "Thank you. It's going to take a while, of course, divorces don't happen overnight, but I want to go back to being a realtor and find a place of my own as soon as possible. I have a few friends helping me out right now. We've both gotten lawyers, and the process is being laid out for us…"
"Good," I said, nodding as I unscrewed the jar of squash.
Mom hesitated. "If you'd like, I could make sure to have a room for you and Luke… at the new house."
"That's really not-"
Wait.
"Mom, are you going to be able to keep paying Debbie for Luke and I?"
Luke finally got a spoonful of squash, and swallowed quickly and then opened his mouth for more.
Mom sighed, her eyes going down her hands. "I'd like to say yes. I'll say yes for now. But that could change."
Well, shit. That could be a problem.
But it wasn't like me living with Mom would save her any money. In fact, it would only end up costing her more. Also, I really didn't want to live with her again.
"I think that relocating would be a bad idea right now," I told her firmly. "Luke's finally gotten settled at Debbie's, and Vic's essentially a live-in nanny who works for free. And Debbie's house is close to the diner."
"All right," Mom said, nodding and looking only a little disappointed.
"Also…" I hesitated, fed Luke another spoonful of squash. "I'm thinking that I'm going to get my own place, when I graduate."
Mom's eyebrows rose. "Really?"
I nodded.
"And do what?" she asked.
After a moment or two of deliberation, I began to tell her my plan for college. She listened with rapt attention, and the conversation did not devolve into an argument.
So Mom was divorcing Dad. She was standing up to him, after years of skulking around behind his back, and it made me hope for the first time in weeks that maybe we could fix what had been broken between us. And maybe… Maybe I was willing to give her a chance to try.
*
"That Pam lady called for you again," Vic said, when I got home. "And so did some guy named Paul Schalch. Left a number."
Right. Paul Schalch.
"Giving out your number at Babylon?" Vic asked, raising an eyebrow.
I sighed, setting Luke's carrier down on the ground. "No. He's the executor of Mr. Anderson's will. I have to call him back and talk about what to do with the estate."
"Number's on the fridge if you're going to call him," Vic said, indicating the kitchen with the tip of his head.
"Yeah, I will," I decided. "I already know his number, though. Can you watch Luke for a few minutes?"
"Sure thing, kiddo."
It had become a pattern over the last few months that when shit happened, I would deal with it, come home, and then call Daphne and tell her about it. She would rant on my behalf or drag my feelings out or do whatever I needed her to do for me in that moment, whether or not I actually knew that I needed it. The knowledge of my parents' impending divorce was hitting me strangely-accordingly, I should want to call Daphne and tell her what had happened. She would make me feel better.
But I didn't want Daphne.
I wanted Brian.
*
Unfortunately, Brian was at work and wasn't picking up his cell phone. So I ended up calling Daphne anyway.
"Divorced?" she repeated, sounding about as stunned as I felt. "Your mom? Seriously?"
"I know, right?"
"Shit, Justin." She blew out a breath. "Shit. That sucks. I mean, it's kind of awesome, but at the same time it totally sucks, you know?"
I rolled my eyes. "Eloquent."
"So… So what does this mean for you?" Daphne asked, ignoring my remark.
"Not a lot," I answered, shrugging. Quiet pain flared up my chest, but I ignored it. "I mean, I'm disowned in everything but the paperwork. It's not like Dad wants custody of me. Mom asked me to move in with her, when she gets her own place, but I said no."
"Are you still mad at her?"
"I don't know. I guess." This really wasn't helping as much as it usually did. I didn't want an interrogation right now-I didn't need one, either. I just… wanted someone to make me feel less weird inside. Like Brian.
"You should give her a second chance," Daphne suggested. "This is what you wanted, right? For her to stand up for herself and for you?"
"She said that she and my dad have been having problems for years-excuse me for not jumping to my feet and applauding her for a divorce that's five years too late."
"All right, all right, don't give her a second chance," Daphne said, sounding as though she was rolling her eyes. "Fine."
This was not what I wanted right now.
"So what's going to happen to Mol-"
"Daph, I've got to go," I interrupted. I thought up a lie quickly. "Luke's fussing about his diaper."
"Oh." She paused. "Sure. You want me to come over? I'll bring a season of Buffy."
"No, it's all right. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Okay."
We said goodbye and I hung up.
Paul Schalch was next on my call list, but the person that I really wanted to call was Brian. Of course, he was probably going to be acting like a huge asshole after he'd been so nice to me on Saturday, so talking to him over the phone was probably out, as was dropping by the loft later tonight. So what did that leave me?
I picked up the phone and dialed, listening as it rang four times and then went on to voice mail.
"Hey," I said, when the answering machine clicked on. "I wanted to tell you that I dreamed about you last night. You were showing me how to use those purple anal beads of yours. I think we were at Babylon… in the backroom… I think everyone was watching." Pause. "You should come over and fuck me tonight. I'm horny."
Part 17