"The Enchanted Cottage" -- Part 15
Shattered.
Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006
"The fucking Gay and Lesbian Center were having a fund raiser for Stop Prop 14. Michael's partner Ben and Lindsay's partner Mel were heavily involved in planning the thing," Brian began.
"You don't like the G... Gay and Lesbian Center?" Justin asked. "I th... thought they helped gay people and did good things for their rights."
"Helping. Doing good!" Brian sniffed. "That's the problem. They're a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites who like to parade their 'good works' up and down Liberty Avenue and then take bows for it. Oh, and condemn anyone who doesn't agree with their peachy-keeny, let's-all-be-like-happy-heteros view of the world!"
"Like you?" Justin pressed.
"Like me," Brian conceded. "Philip and Tannis and their minions fucking hate me. And the feeling is mutual. I say that if you want to make a change, then do it behind the scenes. Do it stealth. Like a guerilla fighter in the war on queers."
"Like a s... superhero," said Justin. "Fighting c... crime from the shadows. Never expecting any thanks or f... fame. A true gay avenger."
"Now you really sound like Mikey!" Brian returned. "But that's not the GLC way. Then they wouldn't get their pictures on the front page of 'Pittsburgh Out'! Anyway, all the places they tried to hold the fund raiser turned them down -- even the places owned or run by fags! Too afraid to go against the Pro-Prop 14 bigots. So, mainly as a favor to Michael, I pulled a few strings."
"What k... kind of strings?"
"I got them Babylon," said Brian. "Stockwell firing me from his campaign turned out to be a blessing in disguise. He lost the mayor's race big time -- and he told Gardner that getting rid of me sunk his chances. The guy who replaced me didn't have a fucking clue! And I was glad Stockwell lost -- he was a jerk and a homophobe! I ended up getting even more clients, especially ones who wanted to appeal to gay consumers. It was all gravy. I used the extra money I was making to invest in a small pleasure of mine -- Babylon. The owners were also clueless assholes, but with an influx of my money, the club was remodeled and revitalized. Of course, I was a silent partner, as always. But I enjoyed my perks there. And one of them was getting the club to host the Anti-Prop 14 fund raiser -- at no charge, so all the money would go to the initiative."
Brian paused. Although the bedroom was cool, he was sweating.
"Are you okay?" Justin asked, squeezing his arm protectively.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Perfecto mundo, as always. Anyway, I'd been planning to go to Sydney for Mardi Gras, but Mikey convinced me to stay an extra day so I could go to the fund raiser. I'd already donated a pot of money under my favorite pseudonym, Concerned Citizens for the Truth, but I couldn't turn him down. He'd worked so hard to get it done right -- they all had. So even though Melanie and the GLC were involved, I stayed." Brian swallowed. "I fucking stayed."
"Brian," said Justin. Seeing the pain on Brian's face was almost more than he could stand. "You don't have to... to s... say any more. I understand."
"No," said Brian. "I have to. I fucking... have to." He sat up and stared straight ahead, as if picturing something. "Everything went perfectly. The crowd was large and enthusiastic, the entertainment decent, and the money was rolling in. The fund raiser was a massive success and Michael and Ben were ecstatic. As usual, Lindsay and Mel were missing because Lindsay was late getting ready and then they had a big fucking fight. And Debbie was still at the diner, taking over someone's late shift. Michael kept going outside to call her to tell her to get her ass over to Babylon before everything was all over. That's where he was, outside in the alley on the cell, when it happened."
"Brian... d... don't. Really!"
"I'm okay," he said, shaking off Justin's hand. "I was standing at the bar, eyeing the bartender. He was new, an extra hire for the night. Theodore was standing next to me, also eyeing him. We were both facing away from the stage -- the entertainment wasn't what I was there for. If I was missing the first day of Australian Mardi Gras, I wanted something to make it worth my while and this guy was definitely worth it. Our friend Emmett was standing behind us, next to Ben. They were actually watching the show. Cyndi Lauper or whatever the fuck. Emmett was clapping like a maniac. And Michael was outside, arguing with fucking Deb. That's... that's what saved him -- a stupid argument with his mother. Ironic, isn't it?"
"I guess," Justin whispered.
"I felt the impact before anything else. The explosion was so loud I went deaf at first, so I didn't really hear it. I felt the heat and something hit me from behind. Some debris. Something hot. Burning. Hit my back and right shoulder. And at the same time the whole front of the bar -- an entire wall of mirrors and all the bottles -- came crashing down, shattering and flying at me like a wall of lethal light. And at Ted, too. And the bartender. And everyone else who was standing there. I remember putting my hands up to shield my eyes and feeling the glass slicing into my skin." Brian considered the backs of his hands. They were crisscrossed with tiny red scars, like roads on a map. "It was like it was all happening to someone else. That it wasn't real. That moment seemed to go on for hours, but it was only seconds. Seconds -- and then everything changed. Everything."
Justin held his breath. "But you're a... alive, Brian! That's wh... what matters!"
"Is it?" said Brian. "I must have passed out for a few minutes. And when I woke up there was smoke everywhere. Yelling. Screaming. Cries for help. Shit crashing down from the ceiling. Ted -- Theodore -- was lying next to me, covered in blood, his eyes open. Staring. A piece of the mirror had sliced right into his neck. He'd bled to death in those few minutes. Emmett was a few feet away. He'd been burned over 80% of his body. He died the next day. The bartender -- I never did get his name -- he was dead, too. And Dusty, a friend of Lindz and Mel's. And... so many others. I closed my eyes and someone carried me out. I remember lying on a stretcher, half-conscious, with Michael standing over me. His face -- I'll never forget his face. He kept saying, "Brian! Brian!" over and over again. And then they brought Ben out -- and he started really crying. Saying, "No! No!" I never even saw Ben -- he went immediately into an ambulance. Apparently they'd decided I was likely to live, so I could wait. Ben actually lived for almost a week. He might have made it, too, except he was HIV positive and his immune system was so weakened it went onto meltdown. I was still in the hospital through all the funerals. I was in the hospital for a while, then in a rehab center. Really it was a psychiatric center. Same fucking difference. A warehouse for damaged goods."
"I know," Justin said quietly. "I was in one for a l... long time, too."
"I'm sorry," said Brian. "I didn't mean you. I meant me. Michael didn't come to see me for almost a month. I don't blame him. He was grieving. And he was angry. Of all the people who deserved to live, but didn't -- I was the fucker who did live. I lived and his partner died. I don't think he can ever forgive me for that."
Justin shook his head. "I don't b... believe he thinks that! Did he say it?"
"No, but I know that's what he believes. Because that's what I believe. I should have died, but I didn't. That's what I have to face every single day."
Justin put his arms around Brian and buried his face in Brian's chest. "I'm g... glad you're alive! I thank God you're alive!"
"God had nothing to do with it," said Brian. "And if he did, it was his little joke."
"Michael doesn't blame you, Brian," said Justin. "He blames himself. He wasn't there when the bomb went off. That's what he regrets. Not that you lived. Or else he wouldn't still care so much about you. And he does! You know he does."
"I don't know anything," said Brian.
He slowly got out of bed. Justin could clearly see the scars on his back from the burns. But already they seemed faded. No longer angry and accusing, but just scars. Just marks on skin, with no other meaning.
"It wasn't your fault," said Justin. "Shit h... happens. There's only one person to b... blame and that's the bastard who planted the bomb! Who lived and who died had nothing to do with anyone else! It was ch... chance, Brian!"
"I got them the club, otherwise there wouldn't have been a fund raiser. We were all standing there, right next to where the bomb was planted, because I wanted to stand there! Because I was cruising that fucking bartender!"
Justin got up and walked over to Brian, grabbing him. Shaking him. "The f... fucking world doesn't revolve around you, Br... Brian Kinney! You weren't the t... target! It w... would have happened even if you hadn't been there! If you'd been on an... an... airplane to Aus... Australia, it still would have gone off!"
Brian looked away. "I know that. My brain knows that. But it still doesn't help. It doesn't erase those minutes. My heart doesn't believe it. My gut doesn't believe it. So I have to live with it. Every day. Every night. Alone."
"No," said Justin, his voice full of determination. "N... not alone. N... never alone. Because I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere!"
***
Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., October 2006
"The fucking Gay and Lesbian Center were having a fund raiser for Stop Prop 14. Michael's partner Ben and Lindsay's partner Mel were heavily involved in planning the thing," Brian began.
"You don't like the G... Gay and Lesbian Center?" Justin asked. "I th... thought they helped gay people and did good things for their rights."
"Helping. Doing good!" Brian sniffed. "That's the problem. They're a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites who like to parade their 'good works' up and down Liberty Avenue and then take bows for it. Oh, and condemn anyone who doesn't agree with their peachy-keeny, let's-all-be-like-happy-heteros view of the world!"
"Like you?" Justin pressed.
"Like me," Brian conceded. "Philip and Tannis and their minions fucking hate me. And the feeling is mutual. I say that if you want to make a change, then do it behind the scenes. Do it stealth. Like a guerilla fighter in the war on queers."
"Like a s... superhero," said Justin. "Fighting c... crime from the shadows. Never expecting any thanks or f... fame. A true gay avenger."
"Now you really sound like Mikey!" Brian returned. "But that's not the GLC way. Then they wouldn't get their pictures on the front page of 'Pittsburgh Out'! Anyway, all the places they tried to hold the fund raiser turned them down -- even the places owned or run by fags! Too afraid to go against the Pro-Prop 14 bigots. So, mainly as a favor to Michael, I pulled a few strings."
"What k... kind of strings?"
"I got them Babylon," said Brian. "Stockwell firing me from his campaign turned out to be a blessing in disguise. He lost the mayor's race big time -- and he told Gardner that getting rid of me sunk his chances. The guy who replaced me didn't have a fucking clue! And I was glad Stockwell lost -- he was a jerk and a homophobe! I ended up getting even more clients, especially ones who wanted to appeal to gay consumers. It was all gravy. I used the extra money I was making to invest in a small pleasure of mine -- Babylon. The owners were also clueless assholes, but with an influx of my money, the club was remodeled and revitalized. Of course, I was a silent partner, as always. But I enjoyed my perks there. And one of them was getting the club to host the Anti-Prop 14 fund raiser -- at no charge, so all the money would go to the initiative."
Brian paused. Although the bedroom was cool, he was sweating.
"Are you okay?" Justin asked, squeezing his arm protectively.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Perfecto mundo, as always. Anyway, I'd been planning to go to Sydney for Mardi Gras, but Mikey convinced me to stay an extra day so I could go to the fund raiser. I'd already donated a pot of money under my favorite pseudonym, Concerned Citizens for the Truth, but I couldn't turn him down. He'd worked so hard to get it done right -- they all had. So even though Melanie and the GLC were involved, I stayed." Brian swallowed. "I fucking stayed."
"Brian," said Justin. Seeing the pain on Brian's face was almost more than he could stand. "You don't have to... to s... say any more. I understand."
"No," said Brian. "I have to. I fucking... have to." He sat up and stared straight ahead, as if picturing something. "Everything went perfectly. The crowd was large and enthusiastic, the entertainment decent, and the money was rolling in. The fund raiser was a massive success and Michael and Ben were ecstatic. As usual, Lindsay and Mel were missing because Lindsay was late getting ready and then they had a big fucking fight. And Debbie was still at the diner, taking over someone's late shift. Michael kept going outside to call her to tell her to get her ass over to Babylon before everything was all over. That's where he was, outside in the alley on the cell, when it happened."
"Brian... d... don't. Really!"
"I'm okay," he said, shaking off Justin's hand. "I was standing at the bar, eyeing the bartender. He was new, an extra hire for the night. Theodore was standing next to me, also eyeing him. We were both facing away from the stage -- the entertainment wasn't what I was there for. If I was missing the first day of Australian Mardi Gras, I wanted something to make it worth my while and this guy was definitely worth it. Our friend Emmett was standing behind us, next to Ben. They were actually watching the show. Cyndi Lauper or whatever the fuck. Emmett was clapping like a maniac. And Michael was outside, arguing with fucking Deb. That's... that's what saved him -- a stupid argument with his mother. Ironic, isn't it?"
"I guess," Justin whispered.
"I felt the impact before anything else. The explosion was so loud I went deaf at first, so I didn't really hear it. I felt the heat and something hit me from behind. Some debris. Something hot. Burning. Hit my back and right shoulder. And at the same time the whole front of the bar -- an entire wall of mirrors and all the bottles -- came crashing down, shattering and flying at me like a wall of lethal light. And at Ted, too. And the bartender. And everyone else who was standing there. I remember putting my hands up to shield my eyes and feeling the glass slicing into my skin." Brian considered the backs of his hands. They were crisscrossed with tiny red scars, like roads on a map. "It was like it was all happening to someone else. That it wasn't real. That moment seemed to go on for hours, but it was only seconds. Seconds -- and then everything changed. Everything."
Justin held his breath. "But you're a... alive, Brian! That's wh... what matters!"
"Is it?" said Brian. "I must have passed out for a few minutes. And when I woke up there was smoke everywhere. Yelling. Screaming. Cries for help. Shit crashing down from the ceiling. Ted -- Theodore -- was lying next to me, covered in blood, his eyes open. Staring. A piece of the mirror had sliced right into his neck. He'd bled to death in those few minutes. Emmett was a few feet away. He'd been burned over 80% of his body. He died the next day. The bartender -- I never did get his name -- he was dead, too. And Dusty, a friend of Lindz and Mel's. And... so many others. I closed my eyes and someone carried me out. I remember lying on a stretcher, half-conscious, with Michael standing over me. His face -- I'll never forget his face. He kept saying, "Brian! Brian!" over and over again. And then they brought Ben out -- and he started really crying. Saying, "No! No!" I never even saw Ben -- he went immediately into an ambulance. Apparently they'd decided I was likely to live, so I could wait. Ben actually lived for almost a week. He might have made it, too, except he was HIV positive and his immune system was so weakened it went onto meltdown. I was still in the hospital through all the funerals. I was in the hospital for a while, then in a rehab center. Really it was a psychiatric center. Same fucking difference. A warehouse for damaged goods."
"I know," Justin said quietly. "I was in one for a l... long time, too."
"I'm sorry," said Brian. "I didn't mean you. I meant me. Michael didn't come to see me for almost a month. I don't blame him. He was grieving. And he was angry. Of all the people who deserved to live, but didn't -- I was the fucker who did live. I lived and his partner died. I don't think he can ever forgive me for that."
Justin shook his head. "I don't b... believe he thinks that! Did he say it?"
"No, but I know that's what he believes. Because that's what I believe. I should have died, but I didn't. That's what I have to face every single day."
Justin put his arms around Brian and buried his face in Brian's chest. "I'm g... glad you're alive! I thank God you're alive!"
"God had nothing to do with it," said Brian. "And if he did, it was his little joke."
"Michael doesn't blame you, Brian," said Justin. "He blames himself. He wasn't there when the bomb went off. That's what he regrets. Not that you lived. Or else he wouldn't still care so much about you. And he does! You know he does."
"I don't know anything," said Brian.
He slowly got out of bed. Justin could clearly see the scars on his back from the burns. But already they seemed faded. No longer angry and accusing, but just scars. Just marks on skin, with no other meaning.
"It wasn't your fault," said Justin. "Shit h... happens. There's only one person to b... blame and that's the bastard who planted the bomb! Who lived and who died had nothing to do with anyone else! It was ch... chance, Brian!"
"I got them the club, otherwise there wouldn't have been a fund raiser. We were all standing there, right next to where the bomb was planted, because I wanted to stand there! Because I was cruising that fucking bartender!"
Justin got up and walked over to Brian, grabbing him. Shaking him. "The f... fucking world doesn't revolve around you, Br... Brian Kinney! You weren't the t... target! It w... would have happened even if you hadn't been there! If you'd been on an... an... airplane to Aus... Australia, it still would have gone off!"
Brian looked away. "I know that. My brain knows that. But it still doesn't help. It doesn't erase those minutes. My heart doesn't believe it. My gut doesn't believe it. So I have to live with it. Every day. Every night. Alone."
"No," said Justin, his voice full of determination. "N... not alone. N... never alone. Because I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere!"
***