"Christmas Eve" 2
It's Christmas Eve.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, December 2004
Most of Brian's Friday afternoon was taken up with the Vangard Christmas Party. Or Holiday Party. Or whatever the fuck they were calling it these days.
Brian tossed back another shot and watched his co-workers laughing, drinking eggnog, and exchanging presents. Even Gardner was smiling and pretending to have a good time. They'd had a great year, especially since their client, Jim Stockwell, had become mayor of Pittsburgh the year before. Stockwell's influence had brought them a lot of new business and Brian had benefitted greatly, even though he'd been hindered by his cancer treatments. And his reward was a big end-of-the-year bonus.
But the money didn't make him happy. In fact, it only made him depressed.
There had been a time when a large bonus would have been enough to make him tingle with an almost sexual delight, but that time was long past. He had plenty of money. He had plenty of designer clothes. He had a big screen plasma television and every gadget that caught his eye and a classic Corvette in which to tool around Pittsburgh, even though it was a bitch to drive in the snow.
And Brian's money and his generous insurance package had meant that he got the best medical care possible when he had been diagnosed. That is, once he decided that he wanted medical care. When the doctor gave him the news, Brian's first thought was suicide. He had dreamed about going to some exotic location, like Ibiza or Mykonos or Bali, and having one last, amazing sexual fling. And then ending it all right there.
Brian knew his drugs well enough to be able to discern exactly how much it would take to kill a man of his size. How many pills and how much booze. And there were other ways to off yourself, too. Ibiza and Mykonos and Bali were all islands and drowning was always a possibility. Just letting himself go in the water. Giving himself up quietly, gently.
Or else giving himself the biggest fucking orgasm of his life as he checked out at the same time! He'd tried that once before. It was his thirtieth birthday and Brian knew that his experiment with scarfing might well end with his death, but he had been willing to take that chance. He was still young and still beautiful. It would all be downhill from there anyway.
But fucking Mikey had interrupted him. Saved him from himself -- or so the little busybody liked to claim. Thanks for the favor, Michael, Brian thought. Thanks for letting me live so that I could get cancer. So that I could become what I never wanted to be -- a pathetic, ageing, and sick faggot trying to act 10 years younger and fooling no one.
Of course, Michael could never understand Brian's attitude. Michael was Mr. Happy Housewife. He'd broken up with David shortly after they moved to Portland. But when Michael came back to town he had met Ben and immediately entered into Domestic Homo Bliss with the professor. Brian never told Michael that Brian had fucked Ben a few years before at the White Party down in Miami. Michael would probably freak out if he knew that, so it remained a secret between him and Ben. At least Ben didn't treat Michael like his surrogate son, the way David had. He guessed that Mikey was happy. Or thought he was happy. What the fuck did it matter to Brian? Happiness was bullshit.
Brian left the Vangard Christmas Party early and went over to Lindsay and Mel's house, bringing expensive presents for everyone. He and Mel still didn't get along, but she seemed more tolerant of him since she'd had her own kid. He had presents for little Jenny, too, along with those for Gus. They weren't really great presents for a little baby -- how the fuck did Brian know what a little baby wanted? But the gifts would impress the girls. Some fancy blankets. A sterling silver spoon with Jenny Rebecca's name engraved on it. And a Madame Alexander doll.
For Gus, Brian thought he did a lot better. He got his son an exact replica of Brian's Corvette in miniature. The wheels turned and the doors opened and it was something that Brian would have loved as a kid. He got Gus a bunch of other things, too, but he knew that Gus would love the car the most.
Brian sat in the living room while Gus ripped the wrapping paper off his gifts and Lindsay and Mel oo-ed and ah-ed over Jenny's stuff and the baby crawled around on the floor. Brian winced as he looked at the little munchkin. Gus was already tall and good-looking for a four year old, with a charming grin and a wicked sense of humor. Everyone loved Gus and said that he'd be a heartbreaker, just like his old man.
But Jenny Rebecca was small and wizened, with wispy black hair and pinched little features. She was a cranky, fussy baby, always crying and whining. Lindsay had wanted Brian to father Mel's baby so that the two children would be true siblings, but Brian had balked. It was one thing to donate sperm to Lindz -- she was his friend and they had even had a fling of sorts in college. But Brian didn't like Melanie. Didn't like her attitude or her jealousy of his relationship with Lindsay. He didn't want to have a kid with Mel and it was only very reluctantly that he finally agreed to do it.
But then Mel changed her mind and asked Michael to be the father. Brian was surprised at how much that had pissed him off, especially since the girls didn't insist that Michael give up his parental rights, the way they had made him do with Gus. That really irked Brian.
Brian thought Michael was a good-looking guy. He wasn't Brian's type in any way, but some guys liked a short, eager bottom. And Brian also guessed that Melanie could be attractive in a hard dykey way. She might even be pretty if she smiled once in a while. But both Michael and Mel were short and dark and, frankly, their kid looked like a fucking gnome! Next to the beautiful Gus, Brian thought that poor little Jenny looked like something that even the dog would refuse to play with unless they tied a porkchop around her neck. But he would certainly never say that to Lindsay! She'd kick his ass out the door.
So they all sat and pretended that the baby was cute and they watched Gus play with his new car and Brian choked down some of their homemade eggnog and dry Christmas cookies. Finally, Brian stood up.
"I've got to be going," he announced, reaching for his coat and scarf.
"Brian, why don't you stay for dinner?" Lindsay suggested. "We're having pizza tonight and then roast beef tomorrow. You know you've welcome any time."
Brian gazed at Gus. He was getting so fucking big!
"No thanks, Lindz," Brian replied. "I've got plans for the evening."
"Can't you skip Babylon for one night?" she said sadly. "It's Christmas Eve."
"I know," said Brian. "All the more reason." He kissed her lightly. "Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow to see Gus' haul from Santa Claus."
"Santa!" Gus cried in delight. "I'm getting stuff!"
"Yeah," Brian smiled. "Lots of stuff! That'll make you happy, kid. Just like your old man."
Lindsay shook her head. She knew that Brian was far from happy, but she was at a loss what to do about it.
The cancer had devastated him. And Vic had died almost a year ago and that threw everyone. But Brian seemed to take it almost harder than he had his own father's death, even though he tried to hide his feelings from everyone. And Michael, although still Brian's friend, had his own life now, with a partner and a foster son and his own business. He didn't have the time or the desire to hang out with Brian at Woody's or dance the night away at Babylon anymore. It was as if everyone else was moving forward, while Brian was still clinging to the past. That worried Lindsay, but whenever she tried to talk to Brian about it, he shut down.
"Be good," she said to Brian. "And Merry Christmas."
"Yeah," he said, going out the door. "Whatever the fuck."
***
"Justin, is there something wrong?" asked Jennifer Taylor.
She had watched with growing concern as her son became more and more withdrawn every time she saw him.
Jennifer had been very worried about Justin during his first year at Dartmouth. She had never known Justin to be so unhappy, even though he tried to hide it. But when he came home that first Thanksgiving he was thin and drawn and snappish. He sat in his room and barely even communicated with her or Craig or Molly.
Daphne came over a few times over that break, but she didn't stay very long. She was happy at Carnegie Mellon. She loved her classes and even had a new boyfriend. But Justin didn't want to hear about what a wonderful time Daphne was having at college. He was miserable and hearing that other people were happy depressed him even more.
But slowly Justin seemed to be resigned to his fate. That first summer back home he had gotten a job in an insurance office, filing and running errands. He hated every second of it. He hated the people and he hated the atmosphere. So he was almost glad to get back to school in the fall.
Then the next summer he took a job as an intern in a law office. That was more interesting, but he still wasn't happy. He often sat at his desk and drew caricatures of his co-workers on legal pads when he was supposed to be looking up references for cases. Again, he was glad to go back to Dartmouth at the end of September.
Dartmouth had a few gay organizations and Justin went to a couple of meetings to see what it was like. But the kids were all out. Most of them had been out since high school and they couldn't understand Justin's own reluctance to declare himself as gay.
"What is this? The fucking Eighties?" one guy had said to him, like Justin was the most backward thing he'd ever seen. "Just tell your folks and forget it! What's the big deal?" Then the guy offered him a beer and asked him to go back to his dorm room for a casual fuck.
But Justin couldn't bring himself the admit that he was still a virgin. In fact, he was humiliated to admit it. And the last person in the world he wanted to do it with the first time was this jerk, with his pierced eyebrows and his superior attitude. So Justin stopped going to the meetings and fell back into his own quiet anonymity on campus, just as he had at St. James.
The summer after his junior year Justin couldn't face another office job, so he convinced his parents to send him to Europe on a student tour. They hit all of the major tourist spots -- London, Paris, Madrid, Rome, Florence. And Justin spent as much time as he could in the museums, often blowing off other attractions so that he could go back to the National Gallery or the Prado and wander through the rooms filled with beautiful paintings, longing for his sketchpad, but knowing that this would never be his life. It was useless even to think about it.
In Florence an older man began talking to him in one of churches they were touring. He looked like he was in his forties, with gray streaks in his wavy black hair. He spoke perfect English and wore an Armani suit. He invited Justin to have a cappuccino with him and Justin accepted.
Justin knew that the man wanted to sleep with him. And Justin was dying to rid himself of his virginity. What better souvenir to take home from his trip to Europe? So what was he waiting for? The man was rich and well-dressed. He was charming. So what if he wasn't the man of Justin's dreams? So what if he wasn't the tall, beautiful man Justin could picture so well in his head that he could have drawn him perfectly?
In the end, Justin begged off. He had to go back to his group. The man gave Justin his cellphone number and urged him to call it.
"You could stay at my villa," the man told him. "I will show you so many things. I will make you happy."
But Justin knew that this man wouldn't make him happy. It was a nice fantasy, but it wasn't real. Justin didn't have the courage to leave his tour and run away with this older man. So he went home and then started his senior year at Dartmouth.
"Have you thought about what you're going to do this summer, honey? After graduation?" Jennifer asked as they wrapped presents together at the dining room table. It was Christmas Eve and Justin seemed listless and depressed, even more so than usual.
"No, I haven't thought about it," he said softly. "I don't want to think about it."
"What do you mean, darling?" Jennifer pressed.
"Just what I said!" Justin barked back at her. "I don't want to think about after graduation! I don't care what I do, so why do you ask me about it?"
"Justin, please talk to me about this," Jennifer begged. "I know that you're... you're not happy. Is there anything I can do?"
Justin snorted. "Now you care if I'm happy? Why, Mom? You never cared before. Not as long as I did what you and Dad wanted me to do. And I did it, Mom. But... but I can't do it much longer. I just can't!"
"Do what?" Jennifer said fearfully.
"Be your perfect little man, Mom," said Justin, his voice trembling. "Because I'm not your perfect little man! I'm... I'm...." He paused and gulped. "I'm gay, Mom."
Jennifer felt her heart sink. She'd known it deep inside, but she'd also hoped that she was wrong. And she ached for her son's unhappiness. For his pain. She had watched him give up his art and his dreams in order to please his father. But this... Craig would never accept it. Never.
"Honey, maybe you should see a therapist?" Jennifer suggested. "This might be a phase you're going through."
"It isn't a phase, Mom," Justin sighed. "And I've been seeing a psychologist at school almost since my first term there. She thinks I should have come out to you back then. That I should have told you that... that I'm gay right away. But I couldn't! And I also should tell you now that I have no intention of going into business with Dad or working at an office after I graduate."
"But, Justin, what will you do?" said Jennifer, in alarm.
"I'm thinking of going out to San Francisco," Justin announced. "Maybe I could get a job as a waiter there. Or in a store. But no one there will think I'm a freak, Mom. No one will care if I'm gay. Maybe I could even... even have a relationship with someone. Or at least try to. I can't do that here in Pittsburgh. Or at Dartmouth. Until then, I'm going to bide my time, Mom. And then I'm going to get out of here!"
"Oh, Justin!" Jennifer wailed.
Justin stood up. Suddenly the room felt too small. The whole house felt too small. "I have to get some air," he said.
"Justin! Where are you going?" Jennifer followed her son to the door as he grabbed his coat and the keys to her car.
"Out," he said shortly. "Don't wait up for me."
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, December 2004
Most of Brian's Friday afternoon was taken up with the Vangard Christmas Party. Or Holiday Party. Or whatever the fuck they were calling it these days.
Brian tossed back another shot and watched his co-workers laughing, drinking eggnog, and exchanging presents. Even Gardner was smiling and pretending to have a good time. They'd had a great year, especially since their client, Jim Stockwell, had become mayor of Pittsburgh the year before. Stockwell's influence had brought them a lot of new business and Brian had benefitted greatly, even though he'd been hindered by his cancer treatments. And his reward was a big end-of-the-year bonus.
But the money didn't make him happy. In fact, it only made him depressed.
There had been a time when a large bonus would have been enough to make him tingle with an almost sexual delight, but that time was long past. He had plenty of money. He had plenty of designer clothes. He had a big screen plasma television and every gadget that caught his eye and a classic Corvette in which to tool around Pittsburgh, even though it was a bitch to drive in the snow.
And Brian's money and his generous insurance package had meant that he got the best medical care possible when he had been diagnosed. That is, once he decided that he wanted medical care. When the doctor gave him the news, Brian's first thought was suicide. He had dreamed about going to some exotic location, like Ibiza or Mykonos or Bali, and having one last, amazing sexual fling. And then ending it all right there.
Brian knew his drugs well enough to be able to discern exactly how much it would take to kill a man of his size. How many pills and how much booze. And there were other ways to off yourself, too. Ibiza and Mykonos and Bali were all islands and drowning was always a possibility. Just letting himself go in the water. Giving himself up quietly, gently.
Or else giving himself the biggest fucking orgasm of his life as he checked out at the same time! He'd tried that once before. It was his thirtieth birthday and Brian knew that his experiment with scarfing might well end with his death, but he had been willing to take that chance. He was still young and still beautiful. It would all be downhill from there anyway.
But fucking Mikey had interrupted him. Saved him from himself -- or so the little busybody liked to claim. Thanks for the favor, Michael, Brian thought. Thanks for letting me live so that I could get cancer. So that I could become what I never wanted to be -- a pathetic, ageing, and sick faggot trying to act 10 years younger and fooling no one.
Of course, Michael could never understand Brian's attitude. Michael was Mr. Happy Housewife. He'd broken up with David shortly after they moved to Portland. But when Michael came back to town he had met Ben and immediately entered into Domestic Homo Bliss with the professor. Brian never told Michael that Brian had fucked Ben a few years before at the White Party down in Miami. Michael would probably freak out if he knew that, so it remained a secret between him and Ben. At least Ben didn't treat Michael like his surrogate son, the way David had. He guessed that Mikey was happy. Or thought he was happy. What the fuck did it matter to Brian? Happiness was bullshit.
Brian left the Vangard Christmas Party early and went over to Lindsay and Mel's house, bringing expensive presents for everyone. He and Mel still didn't get along, but she seemed more tolerant of him since she'd had her own kid. He had presents for little Jenny, too, along with those for Gus. They weren't really great presents for a little baby -- how the fuck did Brian know what a little baby wanted? But the gifts would impress the girls. Some fancy blankets. A sterling silver spoon with Jenny Rebecca's name engraved on it. And a Madame Alexander doll.
For Gus, Brian thought he did a lot better. He got his son an exact replica of Brian's Corvette in miniature. The wheels turned and the doors opened and it was something that Brian would have loved as a kid. He got Gus a bunch of other things, too, but he knew that Gus would love the car the most.
Brian sat in the living room while Gus ripped the wrapping paper off his gifts and Lindsay and Mel oo-ed and ah-ed over Jenny's stuff and the baby crawled around on the floor. Brian winced as he looked at the little munchkin. Gus was already tall and good-looking for a four year old, with a charming grin and a wicked sense of humor. Everyone loved Gus and said that he'd be a heartbreaker, just like his old man.
But Jenny Rebecca was small and wizened, with wispy black hair and pinched little features. She was a cranky, fussy baby, always crying and whining. Lindsay had wanted Brian to father Mel's baby so that the two children would be true siblings, but Brian had balked. It was one thing to donate sperm to Lindz -- she was his friend and they had even had a fling of sorts in college. But Brian didn't like Melanie. Didn't like her attitude or her jealousy of his relationship with Lindsay. He didn't want to have a kid with Mel and it was only very reluctantly that he finally agreed to do it.
But then Mel changed her mind and asked Michael to be the father. Brian was surprised at how much that had pissed him off, especially since the girls didn't insist that Michael give up his parental rights, the way they had made him do with Gus. That really irked Brian.
Brian thought Michael was a good-looking guy. He wasn't Brian's type in any way, but some guys liked a short, eager bottom. And Brian also guessed that Melanie could be attractive in a hard dykey way. She might even be pretty if she smiled once in a while. But both Michael and Mel were short and dark and, frankly, their kid looked like a fucking gnome! Next to the beautiful Gus, Brian thought that poor little Jenny looked like something that even the dog would refuse to play with unless they tied a porkchop around her neck. But he would certainly never say that to Lindsay! She'd kick his ass out the door.
So they all sat and pretended that the baby was cute and they watched Gus play with his new car and Brian choked down some of their homemade eggnog and dry Christmas cookies. Finally, Brian stood up.
"I've got to be going," he announced, reaching for his coat and scarf.
"Brian, why don't you stay for dinner?" Lindsay suggested. "We're having pizza tonight and then roast beef tomorrow. You know you've welcome any time."
Brian gazed at Gus. He was getting so fucking big!
"No thanks, Lindz," Brian replied. "I've got plans for the evening."
"Can't you skip Babylon for one night?" she said sadly. "It's Christmas Eve."
"I know," said Brian. "All the more reason." He kissed her lightly. "Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow to see Gus' haul from Santa Claus."
"Santa!" Gus cried in delight. "I'm getting stuff!"
"Yeah," Brian smiled. "Lots of stuff! That'll make you happy, kid. Just like your old man."
Lindsay shook her head. She knew that Brian was far from happy, but she was at a loss what to do about it.
The cancer had devastated him. And Vic had died almost a year ago and that threw everyone. But Brian seemed to take it almost harder than he had his own father's death, even though he tried to hide his feelings from everyone. And Michael, although still Brian's friend, had his own life now, with a partner and a foster son and his own business. He didn't have the time or the desire to hang out with Brian at Woody's or dance the night away at Babylon anymore. It was as if everyone else was moving forward, while Brian was still clinging to the past. That worried Lindsay, but whenever she tried to talk to Brian about it, he shut down.
"Be good," she said to Brian. "And Merry Christmas."
"Yeah," he said, going out the door. "Whatever the fuck."
***
"Justin, is there something wrong?" asked Jennifer Taylor.
She had watched with growing concern as her son became more and more withdrawn every time she saw him.
Jennifer had been very worried about Justin during his first year at Dartmouth. She had never known Justin to be so unhappy, even though he tried to hide it. But when he came home that first Thanksgiving he was thin and drawn and snappish. He sat in his room and barely even communicated with her or Craig or Molly.
Daphne came over a few times over that break, but she didn't stay very long. She was happy at Carnegie Mellon. She loved her classes and even had a new boyfriend. But Justin didn't want to hear about what a wonderful time Daphne was having at college. He was miserable and hearing that other people were happy depressed him even more.
But slowly Justin seemed to be resigned to his fate. That first summer back home he had gotten a job in an insurance office, filing and running errands. He hated every second of it. He hated the people and he hated the atmosphere. So he was almost glad to get back to school in the fall.
Then the next summer he took a job as an intern in a law office. That was more interesting, but he still wasn't happy. He often sat at his desk and drew caricatures of his co-workers on legal pads when he was supposed to be looking up references for cases. Again, he was glad to go back to Dartmouth at the end of September.
Dartmouth had a few gay organizations and Justin went to a couple of meetings to see what it was like. But the kids were all out. Most of them had been out since high school and they couldn't understand Justin's own reluctance to declare himself as gay.
"What is this? The fucking Eighties?" one guy had said to him, like Justin was the most backward thing he'd ever seen. "Just tell your folks and forget it! What's the big deal?" Then the guy offered him a beer and asked him to go back to his dorm room for a casual fuck.
But Justin couldn't bring himself the admit that he was still a virgin. In fact, he was humiliated to admit it. And the last person in the world he wanted to do it with the first time was this jerk, with his pierced eyebrows and his superior attitude. So Justin stopped going to the meetings and fell back into his own quiet anonymity on campus, just as he had at St. James.
The summer after his junior year Justin couldn't face another office job, so he convinced his parents to send him to Europe on a student tour. They hit all of the major tourist spots -- London, Paris, Madrid, Rome, Florence. And Justin spent as much time as he could in the museums, often blowing off other attractions so that he could go back to the National Gallery or the Prado and wander through the rooms filled with beautiful paintings, longing for his sketchpad, but knowing that this would never be his life. It was useless even to think about it.
In Florence an older man began talking to him in one of churches they were touring. He looked like he was in his forties, with gray streaks in his wavy black hair. He spoke perfect English and wore an Armani suit. He invited Justin to have a cappuccino with him and Justin accepted.
Justin knew that the man wanted to sleep with him. And Justin was dying to rid himself of his virginity. What better souvenir to take home from his trip to Europe? So what was he waiting for? The man was rich and well-dressed. He was charming. So what if he wasn't the man of Justin's dreams? So what if he wasn't the tall, beautiful man Justin could picture so well in his head that he could have drawn him perfectly?
In the end, Justin begged off. He had to go back to his group. The man gave Justin his cellphone number and urged him to call it.
"You could stay at my villa," the man told him. "I will show you so many things. I will make you happy."
But Justin knew that this man wouldn't make him happy. It was a nice fantasy, but it wasn't real. Justin didn't have the courage to leave his tour and run away with this older man. So he went home and then started his senior year at Dartmouth.
"Have you thought about what you're going to do this summer, honey? After graduation?" Jennifer asked as they wrapped presents together at the dining room table. It was Christmas Eve and Justin seemed listless and depressed, even more so than usual.
"No, I haven't thought about it," he said softly. "I don't want to think about it."
"What do you mean, darling?" Jennifer pressed.
"Just what I said!" Justin barked back at her. "I don't want to think about after graduation! I don't care what I do, so why do you ask me about it?"
"Justin, please talk to me about this," Jennifer begged. "I know that you're... you're not happy. Is there anything I can do?"
Justin snorted. "Now you care if I'm happy? Why, Mom? You never cared before. Not as long as I did what you and Dad wanted me to do. And I did it, Mom. But... but I can't do it much longer. I just can't!"
"Do what?" Jennifer said fearfully.
"Be your perfect little man, Mom," said Justin, his voice trembling. "Because I'm not your perfect little man! I'm... I'm...." He paused and gulped. "I'm gay, Mom."
Jennifer felt her heart sink. She'd known it deep inside, but she'd also hoped that she was wrong. And she ached for her son's unhappiness. For his pain. She had watched him give up his art and his dreams in order to please his father. But this... Craig would never accept it. Never.
"Honey, maybe you should see a therapist?" Jennifer suggested. "This might be a phase you're going through."
"It isn't a phase, Mom," Justin sighed. "And I've been seeing a psychologist at school almost since my first term there. She thinks I should have come out to you back then. That I should have told you that... that I'm gay right away. But I couldn't! And I also should tell you now that I have no intention of going into business with Dad or working at an office after I graduate."
"But, Justin, what will you do?" said Jennifer, in alarm.
"I'm thinking of going out to San Francisco," Justin announced. "Maybe I could get a job as a waiter there. Or in a store. But no one there will think I'm a freak, Mom. No one will care if I'm gay. Maybe I could even... even have a relationship with someone. Or at least try to. I can't do that here in Pittsburgh. Or at Dartmouth. Until then, I'm going to bide my time, Mom. And then I'm going to get out of here!"
"Oh, Justin!" Jennifer wailed.
Justin stood up. Suddenly the room felt too small. The whole house felt too small. "I have to get some air," he said.
"Justin! Where are you going?" Jennifer followed her son to the door as he grabbed his coat and the keys to her car.
"Out," he said shortly. "Don't wait up for me."