We Had the Time of Our Lives

 



They called each other at the same time. Brian picked up the call waiting first.

“Brian! Did you hear about.....?”

“Yeah.”

(sighing) “Yeah. He’s gone, Brian. I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it, Mikey. It’s true. He’s gone.”

“But we’re still here.”

"Yeah. Still here. We had the time of our lives.”

“Yeah. Time of our lives.”

“Can you come over and play for awhile?”

“Thought you’d never ask. Ben’s pushing me out the door!” Brian hears kissing noises in the background and Ben saying, “Go! Go! And don’t come home tonight. Stay with him. You both need it.”

“Ah, Zen Ben. Always sooooo in touch with his feelings. And your feelings. And touching and feeling your dick and ass.”

“Fuck you, Brian!”

“Sorry, Mikey. You passed on that opportunity. It was a one-time-only offer.”

“Prick!”

“Geek!”

“Spazz!”

“Pussy!”

“Asshole!”

Brian had no response to that.

“Brian? You still there?” Michael drove out of suburbia and into the city.

“Yeah. Still here.”

“Been drinking much?”

“Not enough. Not nearly enough.”

“Well, save some for me. I’ll be there soon. Gotta go. I just hit city traffic.”

“Sooner, Mikey.”

“I’m on my way.” Michael folded his cell and concentrated on the traffic.

On his way to the loft, Michael picked up every kind of fast food he could find. It was going to be a long, sloppy, fun night. One of those nights. The Brian and Mikey Show Redux.

When Michael arrived at the loft, his arms laden with fast food, Brian slid back the door to the loft, staggering slightly.

“SHIT. Again?”

“Yep. Again.”

“I’m gonna hafta do a bazillion miles on the tread after this.”

“Get over yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“Sorry, Brian. I passed on that opportunity. And you tried more than once.”

Michael unloaded all the food onto the coffee table. Brian lit up a joint.

“Here! Suck on this.”

“First things first. Did you put it in?”

“Yeah. It’s in. Now suck.”

Michael sucked the sweet smoke into his lungs. He was immediately thrown back to 1987 when he and Brian were 17, smoking a joint, and watching “Dirty Dancing” from the balcony of the grand old movie palace that had since been demolished to make way for an office complex.

Before settling in front of the sofa beside Brian, he pushed “play” on the DVD player.

The two friends watched “Dirty Dancing” while they ate junk food, drank boilermakers, smoked premium weed, and “oohed” and “aahed” over Patrick Swayze’s body.

After the film was over, they lay entangled in each others’ arms, giggling like teenaged schoolboys.

“I’m glad I didn’t die that night. Going out in a blaze of glory like James Dean and Kurt Cobain.”

“Me, too.”

“I’d rather be like Vic and Patrick Swayze. A brave warrior fighting till the bitter end.” Brian added the last bit sarcastically.

“You already are a survivor. So am I.”

“Yeah. We are. Love you, Mikey. Always...”

“...have. Always will. I know. Me, too.”

“I love him, Michael.”

“I know you do. That’s why you let him go.” Michael’s mind was thrown back in time, remembering this exact same conversation happening in his room at Ma’s with another person. “You always did. You always will.”

Brian raised himself up to face his friend. “No, I didn’t always. You were right, Michael. Everyone else was wrong. He really was just a great trick for a long time. He was entertainment. He was amusing. He was young. He wanted to get laid. He worshipped me. Like Johnny with Baby. He didn’t trust her. He just fucked her. She came from a different world. It took time for her to prove herself to him. She was a naïve, idealistic, privileged, horny, persistent little bitch. Johnny knew better than to believe in anything except himself.”

“Sounds about right.”

Brian laid his head back in Michael’s lap. “You were the first person I ever loved. The only one I thought I’d ever love. You were the first person I ever danced with. You were my Penny.”

Michael’s thoughts raced as he ran his fingers through Brian’s hair. He’d been right all along. The boy had been in love with Brian from the start, but Brian hadn’t been in love with the boy for a long time. Brian’s confession wasn’t particularly satisfying. Instead of feeling vindicated, Michael just felt sad.

He laid down facing Brian and said: “And you were my Johnny. You always took care of me no matter what.”

“Whatever happened to Johnny and Penny?” Brian asked.

“I think Penny found the real love of her life, got married, moved to the suburbs, and had children. And stayed friends with Johnny forever.”

“Christ, that’s boring!” Brian rolled his eyes.

“Not to Penny. It was everything she never thought she could have.”

“And Johnny and Baby?”

Michael rolled over on his stomach, raised up on his elbows and his comic book writer’s mind weaved a tale.

“I think they found each other again a few years later. After they both took something with them from that summer. Baby grew up a lot and found her own way. Johnny opened his heart a lot and found a new way. But I don’t think it’ll ever be easy for them. I mean, Johnny’s always going to be older and kinda rough and controlling and know things Baby doesn’t and probably never will. And Baby’s always going to be younger and more idealistic and always challenging Johnny’s worldview and testing his defenses. Like you said: They’re from different worlds. But it doesn’t mean they can’t create, I don’t know, maybe a new kind of world. There’s not a ‘happily ever after.’ Just an ‘after.’ You know? Oh, and Penny and Baby stayed friends, too.”

“That’s a good story. No one puts Mikey in a corner,” Brian slurred as he started passing out.

Michael hadn’t been in the corner for years now. He was the center of Ben’s universe. He was the gravity Hunter counted on to bring him to ground when Ben was too gentle. Hunter was living at home, starting his first year as a graduate student in Poli Sci at Carnegie Mellon. Michael could watch over J.R. in Toronto from the webcam. As much as he loved Brian and wanted and needed to be with him just a few hours before, all Michael wanted and needed now was to go home to his family.

He roused Brian and put him to bed. He left Brian a note on the loft door.



Dear Johnny:

Went home to my husband and children.

Someday, when it’s time, you and Baby will meet again. “After” is up to both of you. I hope neither of you fuck it up too much.

Always have, always will love you.

Your Penny

 

**************
 


As Michael was waiting for his cab outside the loft (no way in hell would he ever risk driving in his intoxicated state), he thought he saw an apparition leaning against a lamppost across the street.

Suddenly, the apparition bolted across the street and threw its arms around him, almost knocking him down.

“Hey!!”

“Hey, yourself!! What are you doing here?”

“I heard about Patrick Swayze. I’m so sorry, Michael. Are you.....is he? How are you?”

“I’m OK. He’s passed out.”

“Oh. He still does that?”

“It’s the first time since a couple weeks after you left. He’s been doing well, actually.”

“I’m glad. Me, too.”

“I know! Mel and Linds keep me updated. Sorry we couldn’t make it to the last couple of exhibits.”

“It’s okay. Times are tough for everyone.”

“Yeah. Hey, don’t you two talk all the time?”

“We do. But I still worry about him.”

“Yeah, he worries about you, too. Well, all the good things about him are pretty much the same, but the shitty things have changed a little. He’s mellowed.”

“He’s not a hardy burgundy, Michael,” he said, laughing.

“No, he’s more like wine vinegar. Fruity and sour at the same time!” Both of them laughed over that. “Look, when he wakes up, he’s gonna need a strong cup of coffee with eight teaspoons of sugar, four aspirin, and since you’re here—probably a blowjob. Think you can handle that?”

“Yeah. I can handle that.”

“Good, Boy Wonder. Cause I’m going home to my husband. I’m not as young as I used to be. Neither is he.”

“I know. I’m not either, Zeph.”

Michael looked into his eyes.

“Justin, are you back?”

“No. Just here for now.”

A huge smile spread across Michael’s face. “Great! That’s the way it should be.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m glad you’re living your life. It means I’m glad he’s living his life. It means that the time for Johnny and Baby to get back together again is getting closer.”

“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ask him when he wakes up. He’ll remember. And don’t let him lie to you. He always remembers everything.”

“I know.”

“If you know, then go on up there. Whether he knows it or not, he’s waiting for you. He sees you in his dreams.”

“Thanks, Michael.”

“Ditto. If you hadn’t come along, I never would have found Ben. Now, go on up. I’m going home.”

The two friends hugged. One climbed the stairs to the loft and the other waited by the curb.

Michael’s cab arrived and he looked up at the windows of the loft as all the lights were turned on. He smiled and thought: “Go for it, Baby. Now’s the beginning of ‘after.’”

 

**************
 


He threw open the loft door to make as much noise as possible and then threw it closed for the same purpose. He turned on all the lights.

He heard a loud groan from the bedroom.

“Come back to bed. I miss you.”

He made coffee and retrieved four aspirin from the cabinet.

“Miiiiiiiiiiikeeeeeee! Stop fucking around in the kitchen and come back to bed! I promise I won’t molest you.”

He poured two cups of coffee, spooning eight teaspoons of sugar into one and eight teaspoons of artificial creamer into the other since there was no milk. He set the cups on the coffee table along with a bottle of water and the aspirin, walked over to the DVD player and pressed “play.” He sat on the couch and waited until the movie started.

“This is a REALLY old movie, geezer!” he shouted towards the bedroom.

“Justin?!” Brian shouted back. “Justin?!”

No answer.

Brian stumbled out of the bedroom nude, his dick and balls swaying heavily.

“Justin?” he asked as he stood unsteadily in front of the sofa. He was hallucinating. Fucking Jorge, he was worse than his predecessor Anita. Especially since he really was from Tijuana.

The hallucination of Justin nonchalantly handed him a cup of coffee with decadent amounts of sugary sweetness wafting up into the air and replied: “Yep. Justin. You remembered my name.”

Brian held the proffered coffee cup, not knowing if the liquid therein would make him larger or smaller.

Brian took a gulp and when the liquid scorched his mouth and throat, he knew he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Justin.”

“Brian.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard about Patrick Swayze. I’m sorry, Brian.”

As the first rays of sunlight rose up from the Pittsburgh skyscrapers and filtered into the loft, he said: “Whatever. It’s not like he was a friend.”

“No. He was more than that. He was part of your youth with Michael. And he was your first crush.”

Brian suddenly felt exposed. As he went to the bedroom to pull on his brand new midnight black silk robe, he tossed over his shoulder: “I don’t DO crushes, Sunshine. That’s YOUR forte.”

Justin stood up, strode to the door, and had his hand on the handle, ready to leave. Four years. He’d changed and Brian had changed, but it was just the same between them.

Then he heard Michael’s words echoing in his head: “Whether he knows it or not, he’s waiting for you. He sees you in his dreams.”

Brian came out of the bedroom and saw Justin’s hand on the door.

“Leaving again so soon, Sunshine? That’s also your forte.”

Justin took his hand off the door. He took a stand like he had so long ago as an intern at Kinnetik and when Brian had cancer.

“Your forte is pushing me away and letting me go for my own good, you fucking son of a bitch! Sometimes you were right. Sometimes you were wrong.”

“I’m never wrong.”

Justin grabbed Brian’s arms. “You see me in your dreams, Brian.”

Brian smirked and tried to pull away. “I don’t dream.”

Justin shook him. “Yes, you do. And you see ME in your dreams.”

Brian saw something stuck to the door. He disentangled himself from Justin’s clutch and squinted to read Michael’s note. “Someday, when it’s time, you and Baby will meet again. “After” is up to both of you. I hope neither of you fuck it up too much.”

“I dream of you every night.”

“Stop pushing and I’ll stop pulling away.”

“Start pulling and I’ll stop pushing you away.”

“Sounds like a dance.”

“Yeah. The slap tango.”

“So, wanna dance?”

“Yeah. But this time around, we’ll have to dance to a different kind of music.”

“Huh?”

“How far did you get with Chinese Art at PIFA?”

“Um, exactly nowhere. I’d been kicked out by then.”

“Well, perhaps you should bone up,” Brian said with a smirk. “Ever consider a career as an American artist in China, Sunshine?”

“CHINA? You’re fucking moving to CHINA?”

“No. I thought you knew me better than that. You’re the one who said you were on to me. When did you stop listening?”

“I got tired of reading between the lines, Brian.”

“Fair enough. How’s this? WE’RE going to China, Justin. On a slow boat—fucking all the way. Yes or no?”

“Yes!”
 

**************
 

Their new life together didn’t turn out the way either of them ever imagined.

Pittsburgh, absolutely. West Virginia, often. NYC, certainly. Berlin, Paris, Florence—definitely maybe. But China? It had never entered either of their minds.

Three weeks later they were on a slow boat to China. Fucking all the way.

Once in China, they had only each other to depend on. They found themselves getting to know each other in new and different ways. China was their place and their time. They rediscovered themselves and each other.

Michael’s words echoed in Brian’s head: “They’re from different worlds. But it doesn’t mean they can’t create, I don’t know, maybe a new kind of world. There’s not a ‘happily ever after.’ Just an ‘after.’ You know?”

 

**************
 


Epilogue: The end of before. The beginning of “after.” No sequel. Use your imagination.

 

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