The Key

Brian looked at the clock by his bed. 3:42 am. He groaned, knowing this was going to be another sleepless night. He lay there a few more minutes, then threw the covers off and climbed out of bed. He was alone in the loft, alone in his bed. Their bed. Brian closed his eyes and wiped his hand across his face, wondering if he’d ever get used to his Justin-less life. It’d only been three weeks. He knew, though, that three weeks, three months or three years wouldn’t be long enough to forget him.

He pulled his blue silk robe from the hook on the bathroom door and put it on. He would be up for a while, experience told him. He padded across the cold wood floor, through the bedroom and into the kitchen. The bottle of JB was just where he left it last night. Bottle and glass in hand, he walked to the sofa and sat down hard on the white cushion. He leaned his head back, resting it on the sofa until he was ready to face the object on the coffee table. When he felt brave enough, he opened the bottle and poured a generous amount into the glass. Without recapping the bottle, he reached over the side of the sofa and set the bottle on the floor. Why waste the energy to recap it when he knew he would be pouring himself some more before the night was over.

He swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass and brought it to his lips, taking more than he should have for the first drink. He liked the burning feeling as it went down. At least he could still feel something.  Before taking the next taste, he let his eyes rest on the object before him. The brass key, still on the key ring he had given Justin over a year ago. The key for the loft door. He half smiled at the memory. Bringing the glass to his mouth, he took another sip, never letting his eyes wander from the key.

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“Why don’t you come to the loft tomorrow evening and finish that paper. You can use the computer. I’m going to be late getting home myself, so you’ll have several hours alone to work. Then we can work on something together.”

“Umm, sounds good, Brian, but if you’re at work, how will I get in?”

Brian slowly pulled his hand out of his jeans pocket and handed something to the younger man. Justin looked at it questioningly. “What’s this?” he asked, looking closer at the key ring already attached to the key.

“It’s a key, Justin.”

“I know that. But the key ring, it’s engraved.”

“Don’t make more of it than it is, Justin. It’s just a key to the loft. You’re here most of the time anyway. Now I won’t have to get up to open the door for you all the time.”

Justin smiled and threw his arms around Brian’s neck and gave him a kiss. “Are you sure you want me to have this?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

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For the first time since Justin set the key on the table three days ago, Brian picked it up. He felt the cold metal in his hand, turning it over and over, not wanting to read the inscription on the gold disc next to the key. Only two other people had keys to his loft, Lindsay and Mikey. But Justin was the only one to get an engraved key ring, also.

Somewhere along the way, lost in his thoughts, he had emptied his glass. Reaching beside the sofa, he lifted the bottle one more time and poured some more of the liquid into his glass and set the bottle back down on the floor.

He had worked up enough courage to examine the disc closer. On one side the word ‘Sunshine’ was etched. Turning it over, he read the words on that side.  'The key to my...' What? My home? My heart? My life?

“Maybe all of them,” he murmured.

He made a fist around the metal objects and held them tight.

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“I’m not doing this any more, Brian. You’ll never love me. I’m just convenient for you. Willing to give you what you want when you want it. No more. I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going? Deb’s? Or are you running back to Mommy?”

“No. But if you must know, there’s someone else. He loves me, even if you don’t.”

Brian stood in stunned silence, not knowing whether to believe him or not. He knew things had changed between them over the past month or so, but he had no idea Justin was seeing someone else. All the emotions going through his mind never showed on his face. All those years of keeping his emotions to himself had paid off. He wasn’t going to let Justin see how hurt, no not hurt, devastated he was.

In the calmest voice he could muster, he told Justin to leave. “Come back tomorrow while I’m at work and clear out the rest of your stuff. I don’t want it here when I get home.” That said, he turned and walked up the stairs to the bedroom. As he sat on the side of the bed, he heard the loft door slam shut. He jumped at the sound, saddened at the finality of it.

The next evening he stood outside the loft door for a full ten minutes before he opened it. He knew Justin would have done as he asked, and the loft would be cleared of anything belonging to the teen. Brian wasn’t sure he could stand to see it like that again. He had gotten used to Justin’s “stuff” lying around. Shoes carelessly pulled off and dropped by the sofa, sketch pads and pencils on the table or counter, CD’s stuck every which way on the shelf.

Brian finally opened the door and stepped into the darkened room, already feeling the emptiness he knew he’d see when he turned on the light. He flipped the light switch, and looked around, hoping to find a drawing or half empty glass of milk, or anything to show that Justin had shared this space. But there was nothing, at least not in the living room He slowly climbed the steps and entered the bedroom. No fcuk tee shirts lying about, no almost dry towels on the bathroom floor, no blue toothbrush in the holder by the sink or capless tube of Aquafresh toothpaste on the ledge. Brian left the bathroom and bedroom as quickly as he could. He couldn’t believe those few things made that much difference. Any other day, he’d be hollering for Justin to pick his “stuff” up and put it away.

The emptiness in him was growing. He shuffled to the refrigerator and reached for a bottle of water. That’s when he noticed the gallon of milk was gone. His hands started to shake as he opened the cabinet next to the refrigerator. Yesterday, there was a half of a bag of Justin’s favorite oreo cookies there. Now they were gone. And it was real. Justin was gone, too. He had wiped his existence from the loft. Brian slumped to the floor, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

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Brian was startled awake by the sound of the alarm clock., His mouth was dry and muscles ached from sleeping sitting up on the sofa. His hand hurt from grasping the key and key ring all night. He never let it go. Sighing, he got up and went to the bedroom and turned of the alarm. He reached into the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out a black velvet box, opened it and set the key and key ring carefully on the white silk lining. Closing the lid, he placed the box securely away again. He knew, or at least hoped, that he would be giving it back to the rightful owner one day. Until then, he would keep it safe.

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