Begin Again

Chapter Two

Liberty Ride, 2014, POV/Brian

“Brian!  Are you ready yet?  I promised Ben I’d be there early enough to help check in the bikes.”

I looked at my face in the mirror.  No lines – thank God, and my French skin care client who continued to supply me with the newest and best in skin care products developed to forestall the signs of aging indefinitely. Mac laughed at me and insisted that it was good genetics that kept me looking young, but I assured him that if he’d ever met my parents, he wouldn’t attribute anything good in me to their genes.    

He stood at the bathroom doorway, his smile reflected in the mirror.  “If you find a flaw with that face,” he told me, “let me know and I’ll be the one making a doctor's appointment – to get examined for glasses because I’ll be damned if I see anything but the usual perfection. You’re beautiful, Brian. And may I say you do wonderful things for a pair of bicycle shorts?”

“Flatterer,” I huffed, but returned the smile nonetheless. It was impossible not to – Mac had the world’s most infectious smile, shy but engagingly boyish.  And who the hell would ever have thought I’d have found engagingly boyish irresistible?  I reached out to pull him close.

“You’re looking pretty fuckable yourself, Professor Williams. Do we have time for....”

We kissed, bodies pressed close, arms around each other, so warm and familiar.

“You feel wonderful,” I murmured, sliding my hand over his taut ass, which was fetchingly displayed in his lycra bike shorts. Speaking of doing wonderful things, his ass was made for such form-fitting garb, though he hardly ever wore it.

“You do too,” he replied, his regretful tone tipping me off that I wasn’t going to like his decision regarding time.  I was right, as after a few more kisses, he continued, “Much as I’d rather stay doing what we’re doing, we really need to get going.  And, I don’t know about you, but with a several hour bus ride ahead of me, and a bike ride after that, I’m thinking I should give my ass a rest.” He laughed up at me, his green eyes mischievous.

“Ever the practical professor,” I teased.

“It’s my lot in life to be the practical one, to remember to arrange for someone to take care of the cat and stop the paper and a dozen other details,” Mac agreed. “Whereas you get to be the one who walks around naked until five minutes before it’s time to leave.”

“And you’re complaining about my nakedness?” I asked as we walked out of the bathroom together. Mac automatically located my cross-trainers from under the duvet and tossed them to me while I stood in the middle of the bedroom and looked around blankly. It struck me how well he knew me. Was that boring, to be with someone who was that predictable, I wondered. Not when you couldn’t find your shoes on your own, it wasn’t, especially when you couldn’t even remember what it was you were looking for. But then, I had Cynthia for that type of thing. I didn’t need a perfect guy Friday at home to match what I had in the office, this annoying voice in my head that sounded like Debbie pointed out. Not that there was any real comparison between the two, I told the voice in my head, as Mac bent to retie his shoelaces and I got to admire his small, muscular ass in his bike shorts.  He really did have a fine ass. Small but perfectly shaped.

“Never will I complain about your nakedness,” he looked over his shoulder to assure me solemnly, his lips quirking slightly upward despite his efforts to stay solemn.  “But...and purely as an observation and not as a complaint...I note that you can be the slowest man to get ready to go somewhere that I’ve ever had the pleasure of loving.”

“I’m almost ready.  Did you check my bag, Mother Mac?”

“Would I do that?” He tried to look innocent.

“Does a boy scout pee in the woods?”

“I’m sure you have everything you need,” was his bland answer, which I took to mean that he’d already checked the contents thoroughly and  was making up for whatever deficiencies he found in my packing by adding the missing items to his own pack. 

I’d been looking forward to the Ride this year. Contrary to what I’d told Debbie, I’d planned on riding all along. Mac was a tri-athlete and I often rode my bike with him when he trained on weekends. Because of increased security issues in crossing the Canadian border and back into the United States, we did the Ride differently these days. We were still biking as many miles, about two hundred and fifty, but we were just going to the border rather than across, which saved making everyone travel with their passports.  Now we biked the last hundred miles to the border on the first day, after riding the bus for the first leg of the journey, then bused that portion on the return trip, breaking up the bike ride a bit.

This year, the plan was to have Mikey and Ben’s anniversary party the first night at the border as part of a kick-off celebration, then the next morning, we would bus back the hundred miles we had ridden the day before, bike another one hundred miles and then camp out at a site that was by a lake and gay friendly. The third day, we would have just fifty miles to go to the finish line, after which a big dinner dance was planned. While I wasn’t crazy about “real” camping out, which the others all assured me this would be, I knew that I had as my partner a person who did wilderness survival trips for fun.  Having a tent and a latrine with hot and cold water was luxurious by Mac’s standards so I left all the planning and equipment decisions to him.

I couldn’t help but wonder how in the world Justin would manage, between him and his city bred doctor boyfriend I couldn’t see there being anyone well-versed in roughing it, but I told myself that wasn’t my worry. They were meeting up with us at the point where the bike ride began and I’d overheard that two very fancy bicycles had arrived to be transported to the beginning of the bike leg for their use. Naturally, I’d wanted to buy Mac and myself even better bikes, but he’d laughingly refused to part from his old ten speed, which he assured me was more than equal to the task of a two hundred and fifty mile ride.  He also checked over my bike and assured me it was perfect for the ride and me, even if it wasn’t the most expensive, top of the line bicycle available. I finally agreed that there was something to be gained in using a bike I was familiar with.

“We’re going to have fun, Brian. Trust me.”  I watched as he shouldered his large pack and rolled my eyes as he handed me my much smaller one with a wink. My hero. While he gave the loft one last glance, looking to see if he’d forgotten to take care of any detail, things that in the old days  I’d either shrug off or call Cynthia from the road to take care of for me, I was hit with a moment of panic.

“Why don’t we just blow off this whole tedious trip and head for Ibiza,” I suggested abruptly.

He looked startled for a moment, then, to my dismay, his expression turned vulnerable. The calm, competent Mac Williams’ air of self possession that was so much a part of him seemed to fall away and I realized that deep inside, he was as nervous as I was. Maybe more. He set down his pack with a thud and walked away from me, over to the large picture window. He stood there, hands in his pockets, looking out at the early dawn sky while I tried to think of a way to make things better. The quiet words he spoke next surprised me; maybe they shouldn’t have, but somehow, in all the years we’d been together and all that we’d shared – and there had been a lot –  Justin and my failed relationship with him wasn’t a topic we’d ever discussed. Maybe we should have.

“You know, a part of me wants to say yes to that idea. Run away and avoid this whole meeting with your great love that cannot be mentioned, this showdown with your past that has all of your friends giving me pitying looks, as though I’ve already lost you, without ever having a chance.”

I made a protesting noise but he held a hand up.

“No, listen please. I don’t hold it against them. They mean well. And some of them are my friends too. It’s just that others of them are first and foremost your friends, and that’s fine. And still others of them see themselves as primarily Justin’s friends, which to them means giving him a certain loyalty when it comes to you and who you belong with. Ever since Justin sent back his RSVP, for those people, this ride hasn’t been about Ben and Michael’s anniversary, or the ten year anniversary of the Vic Grassi House, or even about raising money for hospice care at the House – for those people, and I guess in large part for me and no doubt for you too, it’s been about you and Justin being reunited, seeing each other again, seeing if there are any sparks remaining.”

Mac turned around to look at me. “I’m not going to ‘fight’ for you, Brian.  If what we have isn’t enough for you, if it leaves you with an empty place that only Justin can fill...you don’t belong with me. You deserve better, and quite frankly, I deserve better too. I want a man who wants me more than some dream from his past.”

“What do you want me to say, Mac? You know I love you....”

“And I’ve been told more times than I care to discuss that you wouldn’t even be able to say those words to me if it weren’t for Justin Taylor...like he holds some type of proprietary interest in your love, that without him, you wouldn’t know how to love. Mind you, I’ve never heard that from you, but I’ve heard it from a good number of your closest friends. Personally? I think that it’s nonsense.  I think that you are one of the most loving men I’ve ever met. But, I don’t know what you think. Maybe Taylor does hold a piece of your heart that no one else will ever have. But the only way we’re ever going to know is by getting through this. So...”

“No Ibiza?”

He smiled faintly.  “Not until after the ride at least. Then, if you’re still in the mood, and I’m still the companion you want...ask again.”

“You will be, I promise.” Whatever heart I did possess was aching to see him look so brave but lost, as though he was watching something important leave him behind. I recognized the look; I saw it in myself for months after Justin left.  Mac smiled again but didn’t comment anymore. I didn’t expect him to; this had already been more of a scene than we’d ever had in all the years we’d known each other. A drama queen he wasn’t.

It wasn’t until I was rummaging in my pack for my Ipod when we were on the bus that I saw the slim jeweler’s case that Mac must have added to my bag.  I certainly hadn’t packed Justin’s and my wedding rings. I sighed. Since I’d held on to them all these years, it would be hard for me to say that they didn’t mean anything. But they didn’t mean what Mac must have thought, that I was saving them for the day when Justin would be back in my life...for good. As usual, Mac had a good point to make, though, and by packing the rings he made it very effectively without saying a word. It was time to make peace with my past. Use the rings or lose them, but no longer stay in limbo.

********************************************

“Oh my, just look at the professor!  Mac, you should wear bike shorts more often, sweetie!  It’s like I always say, you’ve got to, accentuate the positive...”  Emmett was in full flaming queen mode as he skipped up to where Mac was checking over the bikes as they were unloaded. Em’s chartreuse bike shorts were a sight. I gave him a friendly...more or less...push away from Mac. 

“And eliminate the negative, which means you, Honeycutt. Where the hell did you get those shorts?  A clearance sale for color-blind cyclists?  And isn’t there a rule about the buses co-mingling? I’m pretty sure I read somewhere in the materials for the ride that the inhabitants of Bus B cannot speak to the A Bus people. What are you, Bus D?”  I smirked at him.

“Yes...for Divine, dear Brian. And Mac is not one to discriminate. He promised to help me adjust my chains...or was it inflate my tires? Something manly, which isn’t anything you’d know anything about.”

Before I could send a suitably withering response Honeycutt’s way – not that either of us meant it but it was tradition to keep up the old taunts and no one else provided a suitable target anymore – a voice behind me interrupted, “Well, I guess it’s true, some things never change. Have you two been bickering for the past nine years?”

To my total disgust, I froze at the sound of that voice, a voice I hadn’t heard in years but knew in an instant. I looked to Emmett and thankfully, he took in my predicament in an instant – and didn’t give me away. Instead, he provided enough of a distraction to give me time to compose myself.

“Sunshine!” he squealed loudly, enough to attract attention from three hundred feet away. “Let me look at you! You’re all grown up and adorable as ever! Give your Auntie Em a great big hug and then you can introduce me to that handsome hunk of hotness by your side!”

Emmett skipped around me and enveloped Justin in a bear hug as I turned around, taking a step back toward Mac as I did so. I reached for his hand and he squeezed it tightly before letting go and moving his hand to rest lightly at my waist. I relaxed. This was Justin, no need to feel so nervous after all.  Just because everyone seemed to be staring at us....

“Is it my imagination, or is everyone staring over here?” I whispered to Mac.

“Not your imagination, I feel like Doc Holiday.”

“Nah, we’re the James gang, let them be the good guys,” I grinned at Mac, my good humor restored.

By the time Justin emerged from Emmett’s welcoming hug, several of the others were clustered around. I waited and let him go first with the introductions.

“Hey Em, you’ve been practicing hugging like Debbie, I see,” Justin laughed as he gave Em a kiss on the cheek.  “It’s great to see you. This ‘hunk’ as you call him – winning his favor forever since he loves admiration – is my partner, Dr. Kyle Shapiro. Kyle, this is Emmett Honeycutt, one of my best friends from back home. And here come the rest, let me overwhelm you with names, Ben, a Carnegie Mellon Professor, Michael, my partner in Rage, Ted and Blake, two more friends and...”

Justin had finally reached me. He stopped, his blue eyes wide as they often got when he was feeling sentimental.

“...Brian.”

“Hey,” I responded easily, composure fully recovered. We looked at each other for a moment, then I felt Mac’s hand at the small of my back exert a slight pressure.  Moving forward just as Justin took a step closer, we hugged, the first physical contact we’d had in nine years. On the last occasion, we made love all night, in every conceivable way, and after finally falling asleep, did so with our nude bodies entwined.  Today, our hug was the briefest touch before releasing and each taking two steps back to the sides of our respective partners. Of course, the audience of avid spectators didn’t help.

“You’re looking good,” he said, moving close to his doctor.

“You too.  This is Mac, Mac Williams,” I told him, putting my arm around Mac’s shoulders. 

“Hi, nice to meet you. This is Kyle Shapiro.” 

Suddenly, everyone was doing the hand shaking thing and talking all at once.  I took the opportunity to check out Justin’s partner, the “doctor” that we’d heard about through the Debbie grapevine. He was hot – but I’d expected that – with really blue eyes, deeper than Justin’s, and curly black hair that reminded me slightly of the fiddler’s.  But this man was far more attractive than that kid had ever been.  He was taller than Justin, probably about five ten, with broad shoulders and an athletic build. He was very handsome, with a perfect nose and eyebrows that had been professionally shaped. I knew he was a plastic surgeon and couldn’t help wondering how much work he’d had done on himself to achieve those perfect features.

Justin, on the other hand, Justin looked almost exactly the same. Still slender with that pert butt that just begged to be grabbed, his soft blond hair shorter than when I’d last seen him but still long enough to fall into his eyes.  He still looked like a twink, though his manner was older, more confident. I noted that while the model handsome doctor was wearing the latest in biking gear, Justin was wearing comfortable cut-offs and a hoodie. I hoped he had padded shorts on underneath, but then reconsidered – his butt probably provided him with enough natural cushioning.

Somehow, by the time the bikes were lined up for the start, I ended up next to Justin and Shapiro, with Emmett and Hunter on my other side. Mikey and the Professor’s little cub had turned out to be a pretty decent man, and was trying to make it as an alternative rock musician. Kinnetik employed him in its marketing department to provide him with a “day” job, and health insurance. His HIV meds were effective but costly.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Shapiro asked, his tone innocent. Hunter and Em grinned, both of them expecting me to reject the term.

I just smiled pleasantly. “He’s one of the Ride organizers, along with Ben, so he’s busy with all sorts of last minute details. He’ll catch up to us later.”

“I plan on riding pretty fast, maybe we should move up to a higher position in the seeding, Jus?”  Shapiro smiled apologetically. “No offense but we can always socialize later. I’m dying for a good fast ride on this bike to shake the kinks out.”

He didn’t say it but his implication was that he didn’t expect anyone to be able to catch up to the pace he’d be setting.  As I smiled again, I wondered if it was possible to get a muscle sprain in your face. Maybe I should ask the good doctor?

“I’d like to start out a little slower, Kyle. I’m still tired from the plane ride and the late night last night. Why don’t you go on ahead if you want to go fast and we’ll meet up at the first rest stop?”

“Okay,” the man agreed easily enough, leaning across the handlebars to kiss Justin pretty thoroughly. “I’ll move ahead and ride back to you once I reach the first stop.”

Hunter and Emmett looked at each other but didn’t say anything other than wish the superman good luck in his ride. While Emmett kept Justin’s attention talking about Jen and Molly, Hunter leaned over and whispered, “Was there a decision that the winner of the race gets the man of his choice, because if so, I’m moving up to a pole position too, hot stuff?”  He gave me his patented leer, which hadn’t changed much since he was sixteen. 

I cuffed him on the shoulder. “Down, boy. And don’t worry. If there is a competition, Mac already told me he isn’t entering.”

“No? Doesn’t like the odds? Or,” Hunter gave me a shrewd look, “he doesn’t feel he should have to audition for the movie after playing the part on stage for a couple of years.”

Ben blew his whistle to get the attention of the couple hundred riders gathered for the big event, so I was saved from answering. Not that there was any need – Hunter had great intuition, which was why I employed him – it wasn’t just out of the goodness of my heart. I understood why Mac didn’t want to compete, I wouldn’t either. Yet part of me felt...bereft...by his air of uncaring. I knew from our talk in the loft that he did care, yet I almost felt like he was pushing me at Justin, like he felt our parting was a foregone conclusion. 

“Yo, Brian!  Want to see who can make it to the first break first?” Mikey called over to me as we started out riding easily.

“Sure!” I told him, confident that I would have no problem beating Mikey, regardless of whatever training sessions the Professor had put him through to ensure that he could make it through this ride.

“Bet is you have to sing a song at the karaoke bar tonight if I win.”

“And I suppose I’m supposed to say you sing if I win...but that is a punishment for winning,” I called over, causing general laughter. “I think if I win, you have to refrain from singing unless your hubby sings with you – shirtless.”

There were cheers of assent from the riders between us at that. Even thinner, and forty-four, my own age, Ben shirtless was worth writing home about. Or biking twenty-five miles faster than your best friend.

“Deal, but you have to sing shirtless if you lose, along with Mac!”

I agreed, figuring there was no chance I’d lose so no need to talk to Mac. I looked at my companions. “Remind me of this when we’re at about mile twenty so I can start getting serious.”

Hunter laughed. “You’d better watch it. Dad’s been having Michael really work out. He’s even lost some weight over the past month, and packed on a little muscle.

“But...it’s still Mikey,” I pointed out, smirking. 

It actually ended up being fun riding next to Justin, getting the chance to catch up on almost a decade of life.

“I can’t believe Gus is a teenager,” he said, shaking his head.  Em and Hunter had moved on ahead slightly so it was just the two of us for the moment.

“You’ll believe it when you see him, he’s taller than you now,” I told him proudly. “He’s meeting up with us at the border and he’s going to be biking the last fifty miles back with us. Lindsay and Mel are joining us for the dinner-dance at the end.”

“That’ll be great. Though I don’t know if I’ll be able to deal with a Gus who towers over me – seems like just yesterday he was being carried everywhere. It’s been quite a while since Lindz’ cards have included any pictures of him. Does he still look like a miniature you?”

I grinned. “No, now he just looks like a younger me. Seriously Jus, he’s six feet tall and growing; at fifteen, he looks about eighteen. Drives Mel crazy.”

Justin looked over. It was surprising how natural he seemed riding. It struck me that this was the first time I’d ever seen him do anything at all physical, other than dancing. Oh, and his brief stint with training with that Pink Posse gang. But I remembered that his mother had told me long ago that riding a bicycle was something Justin did well.

“Is Gus...has he...I mean, do you know...”  Justin’s face grew pink as he struggled to get his question out.

“Is he happy? Has he gotten good grades in school?  Do I know his favorite color?” I teased him, fairly sure that what he was trying to ask was if my tall, handsome son was gay.  Actually, the jury was out on that. Lindsay thought he was straight while Mel, whose opinion I respected even if she annoyed the hell out of me, was fairly sure he was at least bi. Me, I was just happy that my kid seemed to be happy, whichever orientation he settled on, and when he was ready to tell me, I was ready to listen. When I was done teasing him, I told Justin as much.

His expression was pensive as we pedaled along. 

“What’s bothering you?”  I reached over and squeezed his shoulder, an old gesture of comfort that felt just as natural as though I’d been seeing him every day for the past decade.  He looked over and gave me that blinding smile of his.

“Do you ever wonder how different your life would have turned out if we’d had parents who completely accepted us? Who said, doesn’t matter to me if you’re straight, gay or somewhere in the middle, son, whatever makes you happy is good enough for me.  Craig would have slit his own throat before saying such a thing and I don’t imagine your dad would have been much better. But there were parents like that. Kyle had them. They’re incredible people and they love him, and me, like being gay isn’t a factor.”

I looked ahead, over the sea of riders, wondering how many were as lucky as Kyle Shapiro and Gus?  More now than before, certainly. And there were some parents like that before. Mac’s parents, both of them scientists, didn’t see it as any big deal, his father telling me at dinner one night that homosexuality was observed to be quite common among most mammal species, far more than the ten percent once believed to be the norm. But for every set of parents like that, there were ten like Emmett’s, who kicked him out as a teen and struck his name from the family Bible.  Of course, then there were the extremes on the other side. I turned and grinned at Justin.

“Well,” I said slowly, “there was always Debbie; she kind of balanced out all the rest of the parents.”

He laughed.  “That’s true. Where is she?  I thought I’d see her at the starting line.”

“She’ll be at the border tonight. She’s busy organizing things for Ben and Mikey’s big party.”

“You know, speaking of tonight...shouldn’t you be hurrying a bit?  I haven’t seen Michael in a while and Em and Hunter have pulled ahead.”

“Fuck!”  I looked at my odometer and saw that I had just three miles to go to the rest stop.  The two of us started pedaling as fast as we could but we arrived at the stop to see a jubilant Mikey surrounded by the rest of the gang.  I searched the crowd who filled the rest area for Mac and finally saw him leaning against a tree, arms folding over his chest, looking calm and collected.

Only someone who knew him as well as I did would know just how pissed off he was.  I wondered if I could talk Mikey into double or nothing?  Of course, that might mean singing in just our BVDs if I lost again....but I wouldn’t let that happen.

I hoped.

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