The Long and Short of It
“The only luck I ever have is bad luck, JT,” Brian smiled as he groused
good-naturedly. “Like- why did I pick this restaurant today of all days? We
hardly ever come here.”
“Well I’m glad we ran into Fred, Bri,” Justin replied. “You never told me about
Fred. And I always like to meet your friends from college and I don’t usually
get to – and I think it’s deliberate on your part too that I don’t – and I don’t
know why you’d….”
“I’m not admitting it’s deliberate, Baby,” Brian laughed. “But if it is
deliberate, I know the reason why – and I think you do too – and….”
“And since I have now found out from Fred that you once thought about a writing
major in college – and that you wrote some short stories for the literary
magazine there,” Justin teased, “you think I’m gonna want you to write a short
story for me.”
“Or maybe even better - a short story about you,” Brian teased back. “Not that
the complex totality of Justin Taylor could ever be captured in a mere short
story. It would take a tome - probably at least as long as War and Peace….”
“Yeah,” Justin mused. “I guess I am a kind of an interesting and complex
character all right. Hey, Kinney. Where are those short stories you wrote way
back in the old days? I’ll be wanting to read them. I’m sure they’re not
anywhere around the loft or I’m sure I would have run across them….”
“Nope,” Brian agreed. “They’re not there – or you certainly would have found
them. Knowing you though, you’ll track them down - so I guess I might just as
well tell you that my mother has copies of all of them I’m pretty sure….”
“Well then, I wonder why she never showed them to me?” Justin pondered. “Was she
keeping them a secret from me too?”
“I don’t know, Babe,” Brian laughed, “ but you will have to take up that matter
with my mother – the two of you would be a kind of even match….”
“Cut it out, Kinney,” Justin demanded successfully. So the conversation died out
at that point – at least in regard to Brian Kinney the author.
But nothing ever really dies in Brian-and-Justin-land. And so later that night
the guys were sitting quietly together on the couch in the loft when the subject
recurred.
“Hey, Brian,” Justin brought it up, “do you ever wish you’d have gone into
writing as a career - instead of advertising?”
“Yeah,” Brian admitted. “I do – but there are some days I wish I’d gone into
anything else but advertising….”
“But you could still write some short stories, Bri,” Justin proposed. “If you
wanted to, you….”
“Nope,” Brian rejected that suggestion. “I think I better leave well enough
alone. Advertising is where I am….”
“But you are thinking that someday you might….” Justin decided.
“Yep,” Brian admitted. “I think so. Every once in a while I think about someday
retiring from the business and writing the great American novel….”
“I guess I’ll be in it,” Justin grinned suggestively.
“I don’t know, JT,” Brian grinned back. “I won’t know who’s in it till I start
writing it – but I can’t imagine any great American novel with you not in it.
How could it think it was the great American novel without….?”
“You are so full of it, Brian,” Justin laughed. “You are so full of it – you’d
have to make a great writer.”
“Yeah, Babe,” Brian pointed out. “Writers are artists of a sort and all artists
– of all kinds - have to be full of it. That’s a necessary prerequisite….”
“If you’re trying to insult me, Brian,” Justin smiled gently, “you’re not
succeeding. And if and when you decide to quit advertising and return to
writing, you know you’ll have me at your side – helping….”
“Thank goodness for advertising,” Brian returned the gentle smile. “For a long
career in advertising.”
But he was still thinking that just maybe the great American novel was also part
of his future.
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