FIC: Parameters (11/13)
Title: Parameters
Fandom: Queer As Folk
Rating: R/M for language -- if you’ve seen the series, you’re fine.
Category: Angst, drama, romance, friendship, hurt/comfort
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I any way affiliated with the characters, actors, or production company that were part of Queer As Folk. I am however the owner of the characters and places you do not recognize.
Warnings: Cancer!fic (NOT a death!fic)
Dedicated: For gundamnook who asked for this fic as the winning bidder from help_haiti!
Summary: Justin Taylor ignored the symptoms. Ignored the nausea, the headaches, the nosebleeds. But he couldn’t ignore the colorblindness. With a dire diagnosis, he’s making his way back to Pittsburgh for the first time in two and a half years to face the music of his mortality once again.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
MOLLY’S POV
It’s pretty hard when your own brother doesn’t think you’ll care about the fact that he has a brain tumor. That you had to find out four days before he was set to have an operation to find out whether or not it’s cancer.
Though from the way you went through Justin’s things to find Doctor Pryce’s business card and sat in his waiting room for two hours before he gave up and told you about Justin’s case, like the fact that he’s 98% sure that Justin’s tumor is cancerous, you don’t think you need the results of the biopsy to tell you that.
But that’s how I found out. How I found out my brother has cancer. Because he thought I was too wrapped up in my own life to give a damn about the fact that he could be dying.
“Mom?” Mom looks… awful. Worse than she did when she’d come home from seeing Justin after he’d been attacked at his prom. She’d looked like death warmed over then. I can’t even articulate what she looks like now.
“Yes, honey?” She looks weary, exhausted… like everything’s finally hit her now that Justin’s not around.
“I forgot my homework at home. Can I use the car to go get it?”
I’m a few weeks shy of actually getting my license, but Mom doesn’t seem to register that I only have a permit, because she’s handing me the keys to her car. So I’m manipulative, it’s exactly what I wanted, but if she wanted to know where I was really going, she’d stop me in a heartbeat.
As is, Brian’s sending me curious glances. And boy does the wannabe fashionista-makeup-artist in me wanna take a waxing strip to the middle of his eyebrow. There’s supposed to be two distinct ones!
I take the keys with a smile and mentally shake myself. Now is not the time to be my self-involved, immature self.
I’m out of the hospital before anyone can say a word. Some probably think I’m gonna use homework to take my mind off things… ch’yeah, right. If I wanted to do that, I’d flirt with the orderlies to find out which are straight and which are gay.
But no. I’m about to do something that could either fix everything, or irreparably damage a relationship.
But it’s something I have to do. Something I have to know. I can’t keep doing things like this. I can’t keep living in the dark and be surrounded by people with two faces. I need the masks to come off and see the paint underneath.
Oh my God, I’m so dropping out of drama class. That was way too drama queen, even for me!
It looks like every other house on the block when I stop the car. But I wonder what happens in that house. A middle-aged man and his twenty-something wife. Little bouncing boy on the way. Will this one be “right”?
“Molly!” He’s all smiles when he opens the door.
“Hi, daddy.”
“This is a pleasant surprise sweetheart, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at soccer practice?”
Okay, so I’m a contradiction. But just because I like to wear make-up and skirts, doesn’t mean I can’t get muddy and sweaty on a field.
“It’s January dad, still snowing out. Soccer doesn’t start for a few more months.” God, men. Can’t they keep anything straight?
“C’mon in, honey.” He opens the door wider and steps back, and I’m hit with the extremely macho-meets-Susie-Homemaker vibe of the house as I usually am. Yep, two heterosexuals definitely live here.
Sometimes it makes me sick. I have a couple of friends that are lesbians, and obviously the drama department is full of gay guys. But coming here, my dad tries to overcompensate. Like it’s written on his forehead that his son is gay. What a joke! A farce if I ever saw one. Between him and that trashy ‘wife’ of his who thinks my dad is ‘rich’ ‘cause he can afford a nice house and owns a business, I hate coming over here. But he’s still my dad, so… what am I supposed to do?
“Where’s Kimmie?” I mean really… could she sound anymore like a pre-teen Barbie doll? Barbie, Skipper, Kimmie! If you put them all together, you might actually get half a brain! Ugh.
“She’s out picking out things for the nursery.”
“Ah, yes. Women work.” He really misses the sarcasm in my voice because he beams proudly, as if I understand my place in life will to be a wife and mother and that’s it. Oh, screw that! We’re nearing 2010 buddy, get with the program.
“So what brings you by, sweetheart?”
Must he do the petnames? What am I, an infant? Baby, honey, doll, sweetie, sweetheart, pumpkin. Ugh! Enough already.
“I need to talk to you.”
He pales. I wonder what goes through his head?
That I don’t want to go to Dartmouth (yes, so not happening)?
That I’m pregnant (as if!)?
That I’m a lesbian (I wonder if it’d give him a heart-attack if I told him that I am and that my girlfriend’s black… hmm…)?
“What’s wrong, princess?”
I want to stab myself in the jugular with a spork.
“Are you really not going to ask how he is, or stop by the hospital?”
He’s frozen for a full five seconds, before he turns away and laughs, “You’re too young…”
“I’m sixteen dad. I know a lot more about life than you do at this rate. I’m still out there living it and you’re in here trying to forget that you even have a son!”
“I do. He’ll arrive in 4 months.”
Really? Really? I’ve never wanted to hit a family member before, but God! How can he blatantly ignore that my brother, his son, exists?
“Justin Taylor. His name is Justin. You helped give life to him about 23 years ago. Ringing any bells?”
“I’m not having this discussion with you.”
“Fine. Then you’ll listen to me if I have to follow you around the house!” I’m defiantly stubborn… I guess I can thank him for that. And sure enough he starts to trek up the stairs, but I’m right there behind him. “He has cancer, dad. Glioblastoma multiforme. He could be lucky. If they remove most of the tumor and because he’s so young, he could live longer than the two year expectancy rate. But dad… do you really wanna risk that he won’t make it past next week? Or that you won’t?”
“Molly, you’re 16. You don’t understand…”
“I understand that you’re a bigoted, homophobic jerk, but you know what? You’re still our father! You should still be there for us regardless of sexuality or profession or even if we decide we don’t want to be Catholic and join Buddhism! You’re supposed to always be there to support us and love us, like when we’d fall off our bikes and skin our knees. You’re supposed to tell us it’s okay and that you love us and that we’re strong enough to get past the pain. You’re supposed to be there for us, dad. You’re supposed to be there for him when a baseball bat crushes his skull in. When he wants to be strong enough to follow his dream, his talent, that he worked hard to overcome the problems with his hand. When he finds out there’s a tumor in his head that could kill him. You’re supposed to be there!”
“Now you listen here young lady. I don’t know what that… boy has said to infect you against me, but…”
“My God, dad!” I throw my hands in the air, can someone really be this prejudice? “You don’t listen. You never listen. What if I came to you and said I was a lesbian?”
There’s a long period of silence and I want to throw up because I know what the answer is gonna be. “Are you?”
“I’m 16, dad. I have things to explore once I’m not stifled by your prejudicial statements and interrogations about what goes on in Mom’s house. Who knows, maybe I’ll try a relationship with a girl! Maybe with guys. Hell, maybe I’ll try both and decide that I like both and enter a relationship with a man and a woman at the same time. What then, dad? What do I become to you then? Will I still be your daughter? Or would I just become another child you conveniently forget you don’t have?”
“I knew I should’ve taken you from your mother…”
“Answer me, dad! What do I become to you then? What if I am gay? Who am I to you then?”
“There are places, Molly. Nice places where people can f… help you find your way back to the right choice.”
The world crashes from underneath my feet. He was going to say fix. He means those camps where they try to turn gay people straight. Using electroshock therapy and other horrendous methods. God, I’d heard about them after I read up on what ‘gay’ meant when Justin came out… I just thought they were horror stories. My father would actually send me to one of those.
“It’s really sad.”
“I know honey, but I’ll help you. I promise.”
“No, it’s sad that you can’t love your children the way they want to love you. It’s sad that you’d send me to one of those… places, instead of accepting me if I was a lesbian. It’s sad that you can’t be happy that someone loves your children, regardless of race, religion, gender. It’s sad, that you’ve lost your two children. At least you have one more to fall back on, daddy. I hope he gets out from under your mental persuasion a lot faster than I did.”
I take one final look at my father, before I turn around and walk out of the house. I pass Kimmie on the way in and feel sick for wishing that the baby didn’t exist. Because without Mom, or Justin, or me even, to buffer this child… he’s going to turn out to be one of the biggest homophobes on the block.
I drive two blocks before I pull the car over, throw open the door, and throw up into the street.
I stared at the stick in my hand for what felt like ages. I was free from dad. I could do whatever the hell I wanted. Including smoke. But… do I want to smoke?
I mean… it’s bad for you. Causes cancer, emphysema, breathing problems, chronic cough. It turns your teeth yellow, weakens the enamel and makes your entire body reek for an hour afterwards.
“Indulging in the wild side, little Taylor?”
I look up to see Brian. Justin’s Brain. Justin’s boyfriend. Lover. Partner.
I’m thinking all these words, thinking of the way he hasn’t been away from Justin’s side since Justin told him, from what I’ve heard and seen. I’m thinking of the way he looks like his entire world would implode if Justin doesn’t make it.
And I can’t help but think how right that is. How I highly doubt dad would look and feel the same if he were waiting news on Mom or Kimmie.
“Who says I haven’t smoked before?”
“Maybe the fact that you’re looking at it like you don’t know which end to light.”
I glare at him as he plucks it from between my fingers. I really don’t think Menthol Lights are his kind of thing, but the kid at the counter told me they were had weakest nicotine. Figured I’d start light, see where it takes me.
I’ve never done anything even remotely bad. No cigarettes, no drugs, no alcohol. I’ve never even kissed a boy! I’ve been… so fearful of what daddy would do that I kept my nose clean.
“Fuck, that’s awful.” His face is screwed up in distaste as he pulls the newly lit cigarette from his lips and exhales the smoke.
I snatch the cancer stick from his fingers and hesitantly put it between my lips. I’m inhaling slowly and alls fine. At least I’m not chok … oh fuck!
I can hear laughter through my cough fit, and if my eyes weren’t tearing and my throat not burning and my lungs not seizing up, I’d be seriously glaring at Brian right now. But as is, I’m lucky enough to get my breath under control as the smoke leaves my body roughly in short bursts.
“You okay there, little Taylor?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He’s amused when I curse. “That’s the first time I’ve said that word.”
“Your father brings out the best in everyone.”
Should’ve realized that if anyone was going to figure it out, it’d have been Brian. Justin once said that he’s pretty intuitive. Except for when it comes to himself. Whatever that means.
“He’s just… such a jerk!”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Have you met him?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Our cars have met.”
Cars have met? What… Oh. My. God. “You and my dad were in a car accident?”
“He rammed his car into mine, yeah. He’s also jumped me and sucker punched me a few times. Then when…”
“You brought Justin home. That’s right too. I was upstairs hiding. That’s not love, that’s hate.” I remember hearing that and not understanding. I was too young to get it, but I get it now. Boy do I get it.
“I didn’t know you were in the house.”
“Why’d you just tell me all that stuff about my dad?”
He regards me carefully, and I feel naked under his scrutiny. Like he knows exactly what happened, what I’m feeling, that I never want to see my so-called father again.
“Because I don’t bullshit people and your father’s one of the biggest pricks I know. And trust me, I know a lot of pricks.”
Okay, ew. “I asked him how he’d feel if I was a lesbian. He said that there were places I could go that would help me… but he started to say fix.”
The cigarette pauses on the way to his lips and I can see from my peripheral that he clenches his jaw tightly before taking a rough inhale. He’s tense, I could feel the air shift the second I said fix. Being a gay man, he probably realized exactly what I was talking about when I said places even.
“I would never let him send you there. I’d kill him before he even so much as mentioned it.”
I believe him and I’m half afraid and half reassured. It’s a weird combination. “I guess being Justin’s little sister comes in handy for something… I get another big brother.”
“Fucking Christ!” He looks scandalized and tries to glare at me as I giggle. There’s a deep sigh before he grumbles, “Well, you’re a huge upgrade from the sister I already have.”
There’s a moment of silence as we stare across the darkened parking lot. If this were some drama on TV, we’d be staring at the moon glistening off a lake and being lulled by crickets chirping, something to bring serenity to the worried and grieving hospital visitors. But this is Pittsburgh and we get moon reflecting off beat-up Camaros and blaring horns from angry drivers.
“He’s gonna be okay, right?” I didn’t even know I was gonna ask him that until the words formed on my tongue.
There’s a shuddering intake of breath that I don’t think he meant from me to be able to hear, “Your brother is… stronger than most people. He’s gonna be okay.”
“And you don’t bullshit people right? You wouldn’t lie to me?” Great, here come tears.
“Justin’s going to make it through the surgery and he’s gonna be sick for awhile. He’ll have to have chemo and radiation and fuck knows what else. But we’ll all be there for him and he’ll be okay in the long run.” It’s like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is me.
“Thanks, Brian.”
We sit in silence for another few minutes, and I’m about to suggest we head inside when he lets out a disbelieving laugh.
“Christ. I just had a real conversation with a fucking sixteen year old.”
“I thought you liked fucking sixteen year olds.”
His head snaps around to look at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slow building smile. “He was 17, for the record.”
“Oh wow, big difference!” I roll my eyes as I push off Mom’s car and start to walk for the hospital entrance.
“You fucking Taylors… I’ll tell you. I corrupted Justin, Debbie corrupted Jen… who the hell got to you?”
I laugh and wonder the same thing. Maybe it’s not who got to me, but who I got rid of.
-------------------
Author’s Note: This was not meant to originally be completely Molly’s POV! But I had a lot of fun with her, and I couldn’t properly get inside Brian’s head for the scene between him and Molly, so it just seems normal to keep it in her POV. The next chapter will be the last full chapter! It’ll be up Thursday, and the epilogue on Friday. It’ll be entirely from Brian’s POV, and you’ll find out all the stuff about Justin’s biopsy/surgery/et cetera. I promise! It’s coming.
Hope you enjoyed!
♥ Ashley
Fandom: Queer As Folk
Rating: R/M for language -- if you’ve seen the series, you’re fine.
Category: Angst, drama, romance, friendship, hurt/comfort
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I any way affiliated with the characters, actors, or production company that were part of Queer As Folk. I am however the owner of the characters and places you do not recognize.
Warnings: Cancer!fic (NOT a death!fic)
Dedicated: For gundamnook who asked for this fic as the winning bidder from help_haiti!
Summary: Justin Taylor ignored the symptoms. Ignored the nausea, the headaches, the nosebleeds. But he couldn’t ignore the colorblindness. With a dire diagnosis, he’s making his way back to Pittsburgh for the first time in two and a half years to face the music of his mortality once again.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
MOLLY’S POV
It’s pretty hard when your own brother doesn’t think you’ll care about the fact that he has a brain tumor. That you had to find out four days before he was set to have an operation to find out whether or not it’s cancer.
Though from the way you went through Justin’s things to find Doctor Pryce’s business card and sat in his waiting room for two hours before he gave up and told you about Justin’s case, like the fact that he’s 98% sure that Justin’s tumor is cancerous, you don’t think you need the results of the biopsy to tell you that.
But that’s how I found out. How I found out my brother has cancer. Because he thought I was too wrapped up in my own life to give a damn about the fact that he could be dying.
“Mom?” Mom looks… awful. Worse than she did when she’d come home from seeing Justin after he’d been attacked at his prom. She’d looked like death warmed over then. I can’t even articulate what she looks like now.
“Yes, honey?” She looks weary, exhausted… like everything’s finally hit her now that Justin’s not around.
“I forgot my homework at home. Can I use the car to go get it?”
I’m a few weeks shy of actually getting my license, but Mom doesn’t seem to register that I only have a permit, because she’s handing me the keys to her car. So I’m manipulative, it’s exactly what I wanted, but if she wanted to know where I was really going, she’d stop me in a heartbeat.
As is, Brian’s sending me curious glances. And boy does the wannabe fashionista-makeup-artist in me wanna take a waxing strip to the middle of his eyebrow. There’s supposed to be two distinct ones!
I take the keys with a smile and mentally shake myself. Now is not the time to be my self-involved, immature self.
I’m out of the hospital before anyone can say a word. Some probably think I’m gonna use homework to take my mind off things… ch’yeah, right. If I wanted to do that, I’d flirt with the orderlies to find out which are straight and which are gay.
But no. I’m about to do something that could either fix everything, or irreparably damage a relationship.
But it’s something I have to do. Something I have to know. I can’t keep doing things like this. I can’t keep living in the dark and be surrounded by people with two faces. I need the masks to come off and see the paint underneath.
Oh my God, I’m so dropping out of drama class. That was way too drama queen, even for me!
It looks like every other house on the block when I stop the car. But I wonder what happens in that house. A middle-aged man and his twenty-something wife. Little bouncing boy on the way. Will this one be “right”?
“Molly!” He’s all smiles when he opens the door.
“Hi, daddy.”
“This is a pleasant surprise sweetheart, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at soccer practice?”
Okay, so I’m a contradiction. But just because I like to wear make-up and skirts, doesn’t mean I can’t get muddy and sweaty on a field.
“It’s January dad, still snowing out. Soccer doesn’t start for a few more months.” God, men. Can’t they keep anything straight?
“C’mon in, honey.” He opens the door wider and steps back, and I’m hit with the extremely macho-meets-Susie-Homemaker vibe of the house as I usually am. Yep, two heterosexuals definitely live here.
Sometimes it makes me sick. I have a couple of friends that are lesbians, and obviously the drama department is full of gay guys. But coming here, my dad tries to overcompensate. Like it’s written on his forehead that his son is gay. What a joke! A farce if I ever saw one. Between him and that trashy ‘wife’ of his who thinks my dad is ‘rich’ ‘cause he can afford a nice house and owns a business, I hate coming over here. But he’s still my dad, so… what am I supposed to do?
“Where’s Kimmie?” I mean really… could she sound anymore like a pre-teen Barbie doll? Barbie, Skipper, Kimmie! If you put them all together, you might actually get half a brain! Ugh.
“She’s out picking out things for the nursery.”
“Ah, yes. Women work.” He really misses the sarcasm in my voice because he beams proudly, as if I understand my place in life will to be a wife and mother and that’s it. Oh, screw that! We’re nearing 2010 buddy, get with the program.
“So what brings you by, sweetheart?”
Must he do the petnames? What am I, an infant? Baby, honey, doll, sweetie, sweetheart, pumpkin. Ugh! Enough already.
“I need to talk to you.”
He pales. I wonder what goes through his head?
That I don’t want to go to Dartmouth (yes, so not happening)?
That I’m pregnant (as if!)?
That I’m a lesbian (I wonder if it’d give him a heart-attack if I told him that I am and that my girlfriend’s black… hmm…)?
“What’s wrong, princess?”
I want to stab myself in the jugular with a spork.
“Are you really not going to ask how he is, or stop by the hospital?”
He’s frozen for a full five seconds, before he turns away and laughs, “You’re too young…”
“I’m sixteen dad. I know a lot more about life than you do at this rate. I’m still out there living it and you’re in here trying to forget that you even have a son!”
“I do. He’ll arrive in 4 months.”
Really? Really? I’ve never wanted to hit a family member before, but God! How can he blatantly ignore that my brother, his son, exists?
“Justin Taylor. His name is Justin. You helped give life to him about 23 years ago. Ringing any bells?”
“I’m not having this discussion with you.”
“Fine. Then you’ll listen to me if I have to follow you around the house!” I’m defiantly stubborn… I guess I can thank him for that. And sure enough he starts to trek up the stairs, but I’m right there behind him. “He has cancer, dad. Glioblastoma multiforme. He could be lucky. If they remove most of the tumor and because he’s so young, he could live longer than the two year expectancy rate. But dad… do you really wanna risk that he won’t make it past next week? Or that you won’t?”
“Molly, you’re 16. You don’t understand…”
“I understand that you’re a bigoted, homophobic jerk, but you know what? You’re still our father! You should still be there for us regardless of sexuality or profession or even if we decide we don’t want to be Catholic and join Buddhism! You’re supposed to always be there to support us and love us, like when we’d fall off our bikes and skin our knees. You’re supposed to tell us it’s okay and that you love us and that we’re strong enough to get past the pain. You’re supposed to be there for us, dad. You’re supposed to be there for him when a baseball bat crushes his skull in. When he wants to be strong enough to follow his dream, his talent, that he worked hard to overcome the problems with his hand. When he finds out there’s a tumor in his head that could kill him. You’re supposed to be there!”
“Now you listen here young lady. I don’t know what that… boy has said to infect you against me, but…”
“My God, dad!” I throw my hands in the air, can someone really be this prejudice? “You don’t listen. You never listen. What if I came to you and said I was a lesbian?”
There’s a long period of silence and I want to throw up because I know what the answer is gonna be. “Are you?”
“I’m 16, dad. I have things to explore once I’m not stifled by your prejudicial statements and interrogations about what goes on in Mom’s house. Who knows, maybe I’ll try a relationship with a girl! Maybe with guys. Hell, maybe I’ll try both and decide that I like both and enter a relationship with a man and a woman at the same time. What then, dad? What do I become to you then? Will I still be your daughter? Or would I just become another child you conveniently forget you don’t have?”
“I knew I should’ve taken you from your mother…”
“Answer me, dad! What do I become to you then? What if I am gay? Who am I to you then?”
“There are places, Molly. Nice places where people can f… help you find your way back to the right choice.”
The world crashes from underneath my feet. He was going to say fix. He means those camps where they try to turn gay people straight. Using electroshock therapy and other horrendous methods. God, I’d heard about them after I read up on what ‘gay’ meant when Justin came out… I just thought they were horror stories. My father would actually send me to one of those.
“It’s really sad.”
“I know honey, but I’ll help you. I promise.”
“No, it’s sad that you can’t love your children the way they want to love you. It’s sad that you’d send me to one of those… places, instead of accepting me if I was a lesbian. It’s sad that you can’t be happy that someone loves your children, regardless of race, religion, gender. It’s sad, that you’ve lost your two children. At least you have one more to fall back on, daddy. I hope he gets out from under your mental persuasion a lot faster than I did.”
I take one final look at my father, before I turn around and walk out of the house. I pass Kimmie on the way in and feel sick for wishing that the baby didn’t exist. Because without Mom, or Justin, or me even, to buffer this child… he’s going to turn out to be one of the biggest homophobes on the block.
I drive two blocks before I pull the car over, throw open the door, and throw up into the street.
I stared at the stick in my hand for what felt like ages. I was free from dad. I could do whatever the hell I wanted. Including smoke. But… do I want to smoke?
I mean… it’s bad for you. Causes cancer, emphysema, breathing problems, chronic cough. It turns your teeth yellow, weakens the enamel and makes your entire body reek for an hour afterwards.
“Indulging in the wild side, little Taylor?”
I look up to see Brian. Justin’s Brain. Justin’s boyfriend. Lover. Partner.
I’m thinking all these words, thinking of the way he hasn’t been away from Justin’s side since Justin told him, from what I’ve heard and seen. I’m thinking of the way he looks like his entire world would implode if Justin doesn’t make it.
And I can’t help but think how right that is. How I highly doubt dad would look and feel the same if he were waiting news on Mom or Kimmie.
“Who says I haven’t smoked before?”
“Maybe the fact that you’re looking at it like you don’t know which end to light.”
I glare at him as he plucks it from between my fingers. I really don’t think Menthol Lights are his kind of thing, but the kid at the counter told me they were had weakest nicotine. Figured I’d start light, see where it takes me.
I’ve never done anything even remotely bad. No cigarettes, no drugs, no alcohol. I’ve never even kissed a boy! I’ve been… so fearful of what daddy would do that I kept my nose clean.
“Fuck, that’s awful.” His face is screwed up in distaste as he pulls the newly lit cigarette from his lips and exhales the smoke.
I snatch the cancer stick from his fingers and hesitantly put it between my lips. I’m inhaling slowly and alls fine. At least I’m not chok … oh fuck!
I can hear laughter through my cough fit, and if my eyes weren’t tearing and my throat not burning and my lungs not seizing up, I’d be seriously glaring at Brian right now. But as is, I’m lucky enough to get my breath under control as the smoke leaves my body roughly in short bursts.
“You okay there, little Taylor?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He’s amused when I curse. “That’s the first time I’ve said that word.”
“Your father brings out the best in everyone.”
Should’ve realized that if anyone was going to figure it out, it’d have been Brian. Justin once said that he’s pretty intuitive. Except for when it comes to himself. Whatever that means.
“He’s just… such a jerk!”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Have you met him?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Our cars have met.”
Cars have met? What… Oh. My. God. “You and my dad were in a car accident?”
“He rammed his car into mine, yeah. He’s also jumped me and sucker punched me a few times. Then when…”
“You brought Justin home. That’s right too. I was upstairs hiding. That’s not love, that’s hate.” I remember hearing that and not understanding. I was too young to get it, but I get it now. Boy do I get it.
“I didn’t know you were in the house.”
“Why’d you just tell me all that stuff about my dad?”
He regards me carefully, and I feel naked under his scrutiny. Like he knows exactly what happened, what I’m feeling, that I never want to see my so-called father again.
“Because I don’t bullshit people and your father’s one of the biggest pricks I know. And trust me, I know a lot of pricks.”
Okay, ew. “I asked him how he’d feel if I was a lesbian. He said that there were places I could go that would help me… but he started to say fix.”
The cigarette pauses on the way to his lips and I can see from my peripheral that he clenches his jaw tightly before taking a rough inhale. He’s tense, I could feel the air shift the second I said fix. Being a gay man, he probably realized exactly what I was talking about when I said places even.
“I would never let him send you there. I’d kill him before he even so much as mentioned it.”
I believe him and I’m half afraid and half reassured. It’s a weird combination. “I guess being Justin’s little sister comes in handy for something… I get another big brother.”
“Fucking Christ!” He looks scandalized and tries to glare at me as I giggle. There’s a deep sigh before he grumbles, “Well, you’re a huge upgrade from the sister I already have.”
There’s a moment of silence as we stare across the darkened parking lot. If this were some drama on TV, we’d be staring at the moon glistening off a lake and being lulled by crickets chirping, something to bring serenity to the worried and grieving hospital visitors. But this is Pittsburgh and we get moon reflecting off beat-up Camaros and blaring horns from angry drivers.
“He’s gonna be okay, right?” I didn’t even know I was gonna ask him that until the words formed on my tongue.
There’s a shuddering intake of breath that I don’t think he meant from me to be able to hear, “Your brother is… stronger than most people. He’s gonna be okay.”
“And you don’t bullshit people right? You wouldn’t lie to me?” Great, here come tears.
“Justin’s going to make it through the surgery and he’s gonna be sick for awhile. He’ll have to have chemo and radiation and fuck knows what else. But we’ll all be there for him and he’ll be okay in the long run.” It’s like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is me.
“Thanks, Brian.”
We sit in silence for another few minutes, and I’m about to suggest we head inside when he lets out a disbelieving laugh.
“Christ. I just had a real conversation with a fucking sixteen year old.”
“I thought you liked fucking sixteen year olds.”
His head snaps around to look at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slow building smile. “He was 17, for the record.”
“Oh wow, big difference!” I roll my eyes as I push off Mom’s car and start to walk for the hospital entrance.
“You fucking Taylors… I’ll tell you. I corrupted Justin, Debbie corrupted Jen… who the hell got to you?”
I laugh and wonder the same thing. Maybe it’s not who got to me, but who I got rid of.
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Author’s Note: This was not meant to originally be completely Molly’s POV! But I had a lot of fun with her, and I couldn’t properly get inside Brian’s head for the scene between him and Molly, so it just seems normal to keep it in her POV. The next chapter will be the last full chapter! It’ll be up Thursday, and the epilogue on Friday. It’ll be entirely from Brian’s POV, and you’ll find out all the stuff about Justin’s biopsy/surgery/et cetera. I promise! It’s coming.
Hope you enjoyed!
♥ Ashley