Still Running For Life

Author's note: My story "Running for Life" was intended to be a one shot fiction, written in support of Breast Cancer awareness month last year, 2005. It was dedicated to all of the women, and men, who have "walked though the fire" of a breast cancer diagnosis. I was concerned that such a serious story, appearing first at BJFic.net, would not be well received on a site devoted to pleasure, given its "public service announcement" topic. Contrary to my expectations, no other story I've written has been so well received. Responding to calls for a sequel, here is "Still Running for Life." It is dedicated to the wonderful readers who shared their stories with me, to everyone who has made it through the fire safely, and lastly, to the memory of those who have not.

0000000000000000

Setting: Pittsburgh, PA, on a cold Monday morning in October. A young blond man is rushing around an elegantly furnished loft style home, gathering belongings. He appears to be on his way out to begin his day. He is attractive, in a lithe, boyish way that is emphasized by his youthful manner of dress. His pants are baggy and hang low on his hips, drawing one's eye to curvaceous buttocks. His top is a blue knit that clings to a lightly muscled torso, and over that he is pulling on a darker blue hoodie that is paint splattered. He wears his blond hair rather long, and it has a tendency to fall over one of those deep blue eyes; the total effect is that of an artist. It is not just pretension. Young Justin Taylor is home from New York, where he is a working artist. He is back for a long visit with his older lover, Brian Kinney, and plans to stay until after the holidays. He needs to recharge his creative juices and where better than with his muse? Justin is supposed to meet the gang, including Brian, at the Liberty Diner for lunch. Having gotten in from New York the night before, he's exhausted from the exertions of his reunion with Brian. How Brian managed to do what he did so well for so long and still get up so early for work is beyond Justin. He can barely move and it is almost noon.

0000000000000000

The sound of the phone ringing made Justin groan. He debated getting it but he still had to find his shoes from where they were kicked in his hurry to get out of them last night. It was probably just Brian calling to make sure he'd left. If he didn't answer the loft phone, Brian would try his cell next if he needed to talk to him. And if it were Michael, well, Justin really didn't want to get hung up talking for twenty minutes when the same conversation would take place again at the diner anyway, Justin thought with a grin.

The machine picked up. Brian still had the old fashioned kind with a setting that allowed it to play into the room so he could screen his calls from wherever he was sitting if he chose. Brian didn't worry about other people listening in, since he rarely allowed other people into his sanctum. When he did, he always remembered to turn the volume down on his machine or switched it to the privacy setting. Justin saw it as a sign that Brian had no secrets from him that he didn't change it when Justin was around. As he laced his sneakers he listened to the message.

"Hello, Mrs. Kinney, this is Dr. Fine's office. We've been calling you about your mammogram results but you haven't returned our calls...uh, we really need you to come back in for an ultrasound. Please call to schedule one as soon as you get this message, um, we really can't emphasize this enough...wait, oh shii..shoot, I'm so sorry, I read the phone number from the wrong line on the screen. This is Dr. Fine's office, please Mister Kinney, uh, disregard this message, HIPPA and uh, shoot.... you have a nice day. Goodbye. [lower voice] well the fucking screen is too small, it's easy enough to read the phone number from one line instead of another, the names are the same, how was I to know it wasn't the same house? Mother and son? Well then maybe he can get her ass in here....What's that? They don't speak, oh, that's just great. ...What?... I didn't disconnect...oh shit...click."

Justin stood staring at the machine, stunned. This couldn't be happening, not when his own mother was just recovering from breast cancer. Brian's mother, the "Warden," that white haired witch of a woman, the one who told Brian that his cancer was a punishment for being gay, had a positive mammogram? And she was ignoring requests to go in for follow-up testing it seemed. If Brian heard this message, he would no doubt feel compelled to do something about the situation, despite the fact that encounters with his mother never brought him anything but pain. The message was only left by accident. It would probably get the office girl in trouble if it got back to the doctor that she had made such a mistake, and it would be just like Joan Kinney to complain that her privacy had been violated simply because her own son had been told she might have a medical problem. Under the new privacy laws, the office girl might even be in serious trouble for what was merely a Monday morning screw-up that no one need ever know about. Brian certainly didn't need any more of Joan Kinney's poison in his life. Justin's hand hovered over the delete button. He thought of Brian going to Philadelphia to run the Race for the Cure with his mother. He paused, then pressed the button, grabbed his backpack and headed out to lunch.

0000000000000000

"You're quiet, Sunshine," Emmett squeezed into the diner booth next to Justin and Ben. Michael was sitting alone opposite the other two but Em wanted to get in some quality hugging time with the "big city artist" as he put it, before Brian arrived and kicked him out. Now he interrupted Michael's monologue about how much cuter J.R. was getting to be since she was walking and talking. (Having listened to his former roommate move directly from his discourse on his latest ideas for Rage, to his thoughts on whether Mel and Lindsay might move back from Canada since Proposition 14 was so soundly defeated the year before, to this latest topic, all without missing a beat or without allowing much input from his lunch companions, Em thought it was time for a little "squeezing" into the conversation).

Ben looked around the blond separating him from Emmett with quickly masked relief.

"You know, I do think you're right, Emmett. For someone who has just returned from New York and must have seen many new exciting sights, you're quiet today, Justin. Is everything alright?" Ben looked at his young friend with gentle eyes and gave the blond's shoulders a quick hug with the muscular arm that rested on the back of the booth.

"That's enough physical contact, Professor. You know my rules, you can look, but no touching. I don't want Justin to find out what he's missing by foregoing one of you big, overly muscled types for my more elegant form."

The cultured, sardonic voice barely escaped being blatantly insulting in its tone, but after all of these years, no one at the table took offense. The Kinnetik crowd had arrived and at the lift of an auburn eyebrow, Em skittered to the other side of the booth and settled next to Michael, who moved down to make room for Ted also. Justin jumped up to hug Cynthia, who'd accompanied Brian and Ted to lunch in order to welcome Justin back from his New York sojourn. Brian grabbed a spare chair from one of the tables and sat down on the end, insisting that Cynthia take the seat next to Justin and the Professor, "the better to keep an eye on roving hands."

After all of the hugs and hellos were done, and before Kiki arrived to take their orders, (Debbie was, mercifully, off that day), Brian returned to the topic raised just as they arrived.

"So, Sunshine, why are you not regaling this small town group with tales of life in the Big Apple? Isn't my little Chaucer feeling chatty?" Brian reached over as he spoke and pushed back the blond bangs that insisted on falling over his boy's eyes. He loved the feel of Justin's hair, and liked him to wear it long, but he wished Justin would let him take him to his own stylist to get a cut that would keep it out of his eyes. Justin smiled impishly back at him, knowing the thought that was running through Brian's mind. His grin widened when he saw Cynthia winking at him. She was capable of reading both their minds and knew that the hairstyle wasn't getting changed no matter how much it drove Brian crazy. Before any of the three could speak, however, Michael's whine could be heard.

"I'm sure Justin's fine. He's probably just tired out from the fucking you gave him last night. Some things never change. Besides, what's there to tell about New York, we've all been there. Bri, have you seen the pictures of J.R. and Gus I took last month when we were all there for Gus's birthday? I photo shopped them and they look great now, no more red eyes or blurs. "

"I was there, Mikey, I don't need to see the pictures right now. And my pictures didn't have any mistakes to start with." Upon seeing his friend's sulky expression, not to mention his other friends' worried faces at the prospect of a lunch with Michael in full pout, Brian took pity on everyone but his assistant, and added, "Show them to Cynthia, she's a female, she'll make all the right noises at them if you need someone to look at them. At least, I think she's a female. She's so good at her job, I think sometimes she's asexual."

"Thanks, Brian, I love you, too." The lovely blonde smiled sweetly at him, but then dutifully reached out a manicured hand to take the eagerly offered pictures. The things she did for her boss, she thought, as she kept a pleasant expression of interest on her face while Michael went through each of about fifty pictures, most of them of his daughter. She really was more interested in the miniature copy of her boss that Gus was growing into.

Brian had his bottom lip sucked in as he thoughtfully looked at Justin, who was carefully avoiding meeting his eyes. Something was up with the lad, and it had happened since he'd left the loft that morning. Not that it was a problem; he would get it out of him eventually. And he would do so without an audience. Brian smiled slowly as Kiki came over finally to take their orders, turkey, whole wheat, no mayo, for him naturally. He would find out what secret his little "Sunshine" was trying to keep. It never took long. The boy was terrible at lying and not much better at withholding information from his man. Brian estimated he would know all by that evening.

Justin glanced at Brian nervously. He knew that smile. But he tightened his lips and looked at the menu as though intently interested in whether he ordered the bacon cheeseburger with chips, or the special of the day, corned beef with Russian dressing, double fries on the side. He got the latter. Brian always stole his chips. No way was he going to talk about the call if he had to jam every one of those extra chips down Brian's throat to keep him from questioning him.

0000000000000000

Justin moved his backpack from one shoulder to the other as he surveyed the neat home set behind the manicured yard. Brian must have arranged for a yard service to come by and take care of it. The shrubs were neatly trimmed, the grass edged, all of the trees, lovely in their fall colors, showing evidence of professional care. A new roof and fresh paint brightened the outward appearance of a house that had seen so much anger and pain during Brian's childhood. It looked far better than it had when Jack Kinney was alive. Now it looked like a house where someone cared about the person who lived inside.

Justin screwed up his nerve and walked up to the front door to ring the bell. Pressing the button firmly, he was reminded of hitting the delete button on Brian's machine that morning, and deciding to take on Joan himself. He was like a son-in-law, he told himself firmly. He and Brian would be married if they could marry. Well, maybe. If it were the right choice for them. They cared enough for each other. The important thing was, he could do this for Brian. Joan wasn't an ogre; she was Brian's mother, just another older woman like all the other ones who fawned all over Justin. And even if she didn't like him, she didn't have the same power to hurt him that she did Brian. He owed it to Brian to do this, for what he did for Jennifer. He had to try to help Joan, because even if Brian didn't admit it, he loved his mother.

"Yes, may I help you?" The door had opened while Justin had been lost in his thoughts.

"Oh, hi. Mrs. Kinney, may I come in? I'm..." Justin didn't get any further. He paused, unsure of how to introduce himself. His standard, "I'm the guy your son fucks more than once" was not likely to work well here. Fortunately, he didn't seem to need more yet. The door, which had opened only a crack on its initial opening, was sliding open, a microcosm at a time. He could see almost half of the white haired Mrs. Kinney's face now although it was still mainly in shadow. Her cultured voice was low. Like Brian, she retained no trace of the western Pennsylvania accent of her youth. Brian had mentioned once that his mother listened to PBS programming on television and radio when younger to rid herself of her coal town accent. Once they arrived in Pittsburgh, his mother strove to mix only with the "better class" of people, refusing to have anything to do with people at church like good hearted Debbie Novotny, who better suited her blue collar husband's tastes. Since Jack didn't agree with his wife's desire to social climb, and Joan refused to associate with his bowling buddies and their wives, Joan stayed home and listened to the radio. And drank.

"I know who you are, why are you here, is Brian okay? Is he sick again?" Joan Kinney inched the door open more. Justin was shocked to see how thin she'd become since he'd last seen her. Her cheekbones were always prominent, but now they stood out in stark relief on her patrician face. Her tailored dress hung on her tall frame. Her dark hazel eyes, so like her son's, burned in her thin face, eerily reminding him of Brian, when Brian had cancer, his mind screamed. Suddenly, he felt in over his head. He never should have come here. Brian should be here. Brian would know what to do. He blinked back tears.

"Brian is fine. May I come in, Mrs. Kinney?" He looked at her earnestly.

"I don't entertain these days, young man. If Brian is fine, I see no reason for your visit."

Joan Kinney started to close the door.

"I know about the mammogram," Justin blurted out.

If anything, Joan Kinney's face became even more of a mask. Her mouth moved but no words came out. A voice spoke from behind Justin.

"I'll take over from here, Justin." Brian was on the walkway leading up to the house. Neither his mother nor his lover had noticed his approach.

0000000000000000

"It's a blur since they told me about it

How the Darkness had taken its toll...."

Justin sat nibbling butter cookies nervously at Brian and his mother faced off. He sank down into a deep, wingback chair and after several minutes he was pretty sure both Kinneys forgot he was there. Which was just fine with him. Mother and son stared at each other over cups of "tea" that Justin was even more sure had been liberally dosed with Brian's friend Jim Beam. His cookies were being washed down with milk.

Joan was looking at her tall handsome son...hungrily. It was the only word for it, Justin thought. Her eyes, bright in their too deep setting, roved over his face, his lean form, as he'd seen artists gaze upon great works in the museums of the world. As though they longed to touch them but they knew that their touch would not be welcome. He'd seen that kind of look in another place, he realized. At Vic Grassi house, as the patients got weaker and closer to the end. Sometimes they'd look at someone like Emmett, so full of life and even more importantly, the love of life, and they'd look at them wistfully, wishing that somehow they could get back something that was lost forever. Joan Kinney had that kind of expression in her eyes as she gazed at her only son silently.

"I spoke to your doctor, Mom."

"You had no right."

"I know. And before you get upset at the wrong person, Justin found out about your condition by accident, as I did. Some person in the office left a message at my place by accident. Turns out your gynecologist referred you to my oncologist for that follow-up mammogram, and when it wasn't good, they've been trying to reach you for some time now. What's up with that, Mom? Why are you refusing to return the doctor's calls?"

"It is my business, Brian. I..." Joan appeared to struggle over the words, "I appreciate your coming out here to check on me. Your young man as well. I know we haven't been on the best of terms but I do appreciate that you take care of this place and the bills..." Brian waved off his mother's words, his face looking uncomfortable as it always did whenever anyone tried to thank him for something nice he did. Joan was having none of it, however, and she seemed to be as stubborn as he was. "No, let me finish; it needs to be said. I know it's you who pays for everything no matter what your sister says. She's never had two cents to rub together so I doubt she's started now. And some things, like the roof and the landscaping, that is pure you. Claire would never notice anything beyond the grass needing cutting, much less fancy shrubbery, and anything long term such as a new roof before the old one collapsed would not occur to her. So...thank you. It is a pleasure to live in a house that looks so nice and is a credit to the neighborhood."

Brian said nothing so Justin threw a cookie at him. When the older man looked over, the blond mouthed, "You're welcome. Now you say, 'you're welcome.' At least say something, asshole."

Brian grimaced. "Excuse my partner's manners. I don't know what they're teaching in those country clubs these days."

"Well, he is young," Joan murmured, a slight twinkle appearing in her eyes, to Justin's amazement. He fully expected one of the fire and brimstone speeches that were her specialty.

As far as the work on the house, there's no need to thank me. I'm happy to do it and the money is nothing to me. But as I was saying, you can't just ignore this health problem, the doctor said..."

"With all due respect, Brian, you don't know anything about it. This is my body and my choice and while I thank you for coming over here, I don't care to discuss this. If that is all you wanted to talk about, perhaps you and your young man should leave now." Joan's hands were clasped tightly in her lap.

Brian looked down at her hands. He turned to Justin and spoke quietly.

"Jus, would you please go fix some tea or something in the kitchen? Take all the time you need."

Justin thought about arguing but one look at Brian's face was enough to make him change his mind. He picked up his plate and glass and headed into the kitchen.

Brian got up and crouched down on the floor at his mother's feet. There should have been something incongruous about the Armani clad man in his impeccably tailored suit on the floor next to the woman in her baggy, ill fitting dress...but there wasn't. Both Kinneys had an essential elegance of bearing that shone through whatever they wore. Some gays used to think that it was his clothes that made Brian Kinney, but Emmett could have told them it was Brian who made the clothes. The same was true about his mother. During the lean years, Joan used to go to a Church Thrift shop, one located several towns over, of course, where no one would recognize her and she always looked as though she were dressed in designer outfits. None of the spiteful women in her parish could figure out how she managed it, with a husband who drank away most of his earnings.

"Mom, I agree that it's your body and your choice, you're wrong when you say that I don't know anything about it. You know I had cancer the other year. It wasn't something like skin cancer, or leukemia. Not that those aren't serious things, but I don't know that I wouldn't have preferred either of them. It was testicular cancer, Mom. And in order to save my life, I had to let them cut my ball out. That wasn't easy, Mom."

"Brian," Joan looked away, uncomfortable with her son's blunt words.

"No, Mom, look at me." Hazel eyes waited until hazel eyes looked back. "I know you don't like words like balls or nuts, but using the proper medical term, testicle, doesn't make it any easier for me. They cut out a part of me that, to me, helped define who I was. What made me a man. The treatment, the sickness, that was all just insult to injury. They took something away from me that I wasn't sure I could live without despite knowing that I couldn't live, if they didn't take it out."

Joan looked startled for a moment, the famous Kinney mask slipping. Perhaps she'd never really realized just how serious Brian's cancer had been before today. They'd never spoken of it, she realized, other than her ill considered trip to his office after Debbie Novotny shamed her in Church by confronting her with knowledge about her own son's illness that she had no idea of. Her harsh speech to Brian that day had only been partially fueled by anti-homosexual religious fervor. A good part, the main part, had been caused by good old-fashioned jealousy that Debbie, for all her brash, low class ways, was closer to Brian than she would ever be. Joan had been shocked to see how thin Brian was that day, and longed to drag him home for a good, home cooked meal and some chocolate cake. Instead, she'd lost her temper as she'd so often done in the past with him, and in doing so, said things she'd regretted ever since.

This cancer was her punishment. Joan knew it was. God was punishing her for failing her son when he needed her. It was only right that she should die. She felt a large hand envelop hers as she struggled to hold back tears.

"I'm going to take you to the doctor's office this afternoon, Mom. They're waiting for you now. You don't have to have any tests or examinations. You're just going to talk to the doctor. And listen to him. Please. Will you do that for me? I find that I'm not ready to be an orphan quite yet."

Brian's voice had that slightly higher pitch to it that it used to get whenever he wanted something particularly badly. New soccer cleats. A nice dress shirt for eighth grade graduation. He never whined or nagged, as Claire did. He asked, with only the pitch of his voice cracking a little bit to reveal that it was important to him. Jack used to make fun of it, saying he sounded like a girl. All too young, Brian stopped asking for things from his parents. The last time Joan could remember hearing that tone in his voice was when she left his loft after discovering Justin Taylor there, the day after he took her to Church. He asked her then if that was it, was she just going to leave because she'd discovered her beautiful, perfect son was gay. She'd said terrible things to him then. And again when she saw him at his office after she's learned of his illness. He didn't ask her to stay then. There was no sign of his voice cracking, just a brief glimmer of hope in his eyes before he realized she was failing him again.

Joan decided not to fail him, even if she had no hope. Just this once, she could do something just for Brian. She spoke in her usual clipped, businesslike tones, as she stood.

"I'll go to the doctor, Brian. But I can't make you any promises. You might have to ready yourself for playing orphan, regardless. Fortunately, there seem to be no shortage of mother figures in your life."

"Well, it wouldn't be the same. All of them are far too motherly for my tastes," Brian grinned as he got back up to his feet. Joan shot him a sharp look, then smiled reluctantly before replying dryly, "No doubt. Give me a moment to freshen up and I will be right with you. Perhaps you'd better check on your friend in the kitchen?"

"His name is Justin, Mom." Brian cocked an eyebrow at her.

Joan looked back at him and smiled suddenly. "I know."

Brian just rolled his eyes.

0000000000000000

Dr Pahtari looked at Joan Kinney's chart for several long minutes, just shaking his head. Seeing how the doctor's attitude was making his mother even more tense than she'd started out, and that was bad enough, Brian snapped at the man finally.

"Doc, you've been waiting to see my mother for weeks. It was my understanding from speaking to your partner, Dr. Connor, that you would be expecting us and were familiar with my mother's case. Therefore, I would think that it wouldn't take you long to tell her what you have to say."

The doctor closed the chart very deliberately, then leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers thoughtfully, trying to appear unaffected by the impatient tone in Brian's voice. It was a good performance, as such performances went. Joan was pleased to see that the man did look a bit shaken by her son's forceful demeanor, and indeed, stopped prolonging her anxiety by determining that, completely coincidentally, he was now ready to speak.

"Mrs. Kinney, Mr. Kinney, it is a very good thing that Mrs. Kinney is here today. We should have seen her however, some weeks ago, as we were asking to do..."

Brian made a noise, clearing his throat. The doctor looked at him for a moment, then proceeded.

"Yes, well, that is in the past now. We are here today to discuss what are your options today, Mrs. Kinney. And you have several options, despite the fact that you do indeed have a malignancy in your breast which has spread...."

"It's been years since they told her about it

The darkness her body possessed

And the scars are still there in the mirror

Every day when she gets herself dressed......"

0000000000000000

"What am I going to do, Brian? I don't know how to say this. I'm, I'm scared."

"I know, Mom. But if it helps you decide, I...I'll be there with you, every step of the way. You don't have to do this alone. And I know other women who've gone through this. They'll help too, if you would let them."

"I don't know, Brian, I've never been one to talk to strangers, much less about something like this."

"You know Justin? His mom went through it."

"That young boy? His mother is just a girl herself! I saw her once. She's just a pretty little thing!" Joan's shock was audible.

Brian couldn't help it, he huffed out a laugh. He was sitting with his mother in a private room in the doctor's office. They really wanted her to act quickly to have the surgery done, a radical double mastectomy. Even then, the doctor wasn't making any promises, but he could guarantee that if Joan did nothing for much longer, she would be dead soon. It was taking everything in him not to exert undue pressure on his mother, but better than anyone else, Brian could appreciate that this had to be her decision. He really did understand and for the time being, all of their differences were pushed aside. What he was understanding for the first time, was what he put his friends through when he shut them out of his own cancer experience. He took his mother's hands.

"Breast cancer doesn't care if you're pretty or ugly or rich or poor, young or old. If there was one thing I learned when I did the Run for the Cure with Justin's mother, Jennifer, last year, it was that. It is an equal opportunity fucker."

For once, Joan did not reprimand his language. A few minutes later, the two Kinneys, mother and son, walked into the reception area together to schedule Joan's surgery for that week. Brian text messaged Cynthia to clear his calendar.

0000000000000000

"Brian?"

"Right here, Mom."

"It feels... so heavy." Joan's voice was raspy from the anesthesia.

Brian moved forward with the cup of ice chips the nurse had told him would be okay to give her.

"That's because of the bandages, Mom. You did great. You're going to be weak because of all the weight you lost before the surgery. Remember the doctor told us that, and because you're a little malnourished. But they think they got all the cancer out. They still have to do the follow-up treatment, but so far, so good. It hasn't moved into any other organs; you're lucky."

"Lucky me," Joan croaked, the roll of her eyes just like her son's. All of a sudden, she grew agitated, and grabbed at Brian's hand, which was guiding the cup of ice chips to her mouth. The ice spilled all over the bed.

"My fault. My fault, Brian, sorry...so sorry."

Brian frowned. He was fairly sure his mother was not beating herself up over the ice. He debated calling for the nurse to give her something to calm her down, or perhaps even get Father Tom to come pray with her. The priest had been good about staying with his mother before the surgery during those times that Brian had to leave to take care of unavoidable work emergencies. They'd found quickly enough that Claire was useless, as she tended to get hysterical, and upset Joan too much to stay with her. Tom had even sat with Brian for a while during the long procedure and was down in the chapel now, giving thanks for his parishioner having made it through the surgery safely.

"Mom, what is it? Everything's fine. I know you're in discomfort..." Brian stopped speaking. He really wasn't the right person for this type of thing. Discomfort, hell. As soon as the anesthesia wore off, she would hurt like a son of a bitch. He felt that tug, the one that made him want to run away, but seeing his mother lying there helpless, and frantic to communicate, he couldn't run away. Even if she'd turned her back on him so many times, he couldn't do the same to her. This problem was bigger than petty revenge. It was the reason his small blond, as well as Jennifer, were out in the waiting room, as they had been all day, giving their silent support. Even Tucker was there, having dropped off sandwiches at noon, (turkey on wheat, no mayo for Brian) and staying, a bag of papers to mark by his feet. Somehow, along the last couple of years, Brian's "family" had expanded to include these other people. Even the motorcycle riding, pony tailed, teacher, who took a day off work because Brian's mother was in surgery. With a start, he realized that this was what it was like to have in-laws.

Brian tried again, making a real effort to gentle his voice. Justin would be proud of him, he thought. "What is it, Mom, what's bothering you?"

"I wasn't there for you. God made me sick, for...for not understanding. About you. And Justin. I used to dream of the day I'd dance at your wedding, and I was so, so foolishly selfish." She really shouldn't be trying to talk so much, Brian thought absently, but he knew instinctively, that these were things she had to say. So he let her go on and didn't try to stop her.

"All I could think was, now I'll never dance with my handsome son at his wedding. But God, God punishes us when we are evil, Brian. I see you with Justin, and I know that you love each other. And some day, you'll marry each other, and I won't be here to dance with you at your wedding. We've never danced together, Brian. Do you realize that?"

Tears were rolling down Joan's face. Brian sucked in his bottom lip. How to handle this? Should he call in the Padre? Or do it himself?

Brian took his mother's hand in his.

"I promise you this, Mom. Someday, wherever it has to take place, I will get married to Justin. And you will get to dance with me at my wedding. Your getting cancer has nothing to do with all the nasty things we've both said to each other, just as my getting cancer had nothing to do with my being gay. It just happened. But we're both tough. I beat my cancer and you'll beat this. And then we'll go dancing. Though in all fairness, I have to warn you, there is this nasty rumor going around that I can't dance...."

Brian kept talking in a teasing, gentle voice until his mother fell asleep. From the doorway, a certain young blond man watched, a wide smile on his face. His own mother leaned against his shoulder.

"So, you think maybe I could grab one of those dances at this wedding?" Jennifer Taylor whispered.

"I think that could be arranged. I always dance with you, don't I?"

"I meant with my son-in-law," she smiled, and then pulled her son away to give Brian more time alone with his mother. The two men would have plenty of time to discuss their future. This was Joan's time with her son, and if her days were limited, Jennifer could appreciate just how precious every minute of that time was. As for her, she had a Race to train for. She and Brian were running again that year.

And if you ask me why I am still running

I'll tell you, I run for us all....

[chorus]

I run for hope, I run to feel

I run for the truth, For all that is real

I run for your mother, your sister, your wife

I run for you and me, my friend, I run for life.

******

"And someday if they tell you about it

If the darkness knocks on your door

Remember her, remember me

We will be running as we have before

Running for answers, Running for more

[chorus]

I run for hope, I run to feel

I run for the truth, For all that is real

I run for your mother, your sister, your wife

I run for you and me, my friend, I run for life

(The Song is excerpted from Running for Life, Lyrics and Music by Melissa Etheridge)

(If interested, please see www.pbfund.org, a site where you can order pink bracelets, similar to the yellow plastic Live Strong ones Lance Armstrong endorses; this is a fundraising effort for breast cancer research which Melissa Etheridge supports. Another simple effort everyone can make is to visit the breast cancer website. By clicking on the site where indicated, their sponsors help fund mammograms for needy women. The site address is www.thebreastcancersite.com. When you visit that site each day, you can click where indicated, and each hit helps them meet their quota! Please note that breast cancer is not just a women's issue, men too should do breast exams. While lumps are frequently benign in men, that cannot be assumed and should always be checked out! (Thank you for your indulgence; we now return to our regularly scheduled stories!)