Fire

Part 7

Brian

OK, I know that this was probably a stupid place to come, but I figured that it would be the last place that any of the others would look for me. And yes, before you waste your time asking, it’s Hell.

The fact is that I couldn’t go all that far. I’m not quite up to major trips at this point and they all knew that I was booked into the place in Irwin—one of Pittsburgh’s armpits, and that’s no lie. They know that the doctor was looking into the other places that would have been the other obvious choices and I just need to get away for a while.

I know, believe it or not, that the others love me. I really do know that.

Oh, yeah, they piss and moan about things but I know that they’re there for me if I need them, just like I’m there for them.

That’s what friends are for, you know.

God, I’m getting trite.

I almost called Ben just so that one of them would know where to reach me in case there was an emergency, but I finally decided against it. You want to know who I told?

You’ll shit. Really, you will.

I told Horvath.

Honest to Christ. If something happens, he’s the one who’ll let me know.

Think about it. It makes sense.

He’s with Deb and she knows everything. If something happens to Justin or Gus or someone, she’ll naturally tell him and he’s agreed to tell me.

No one will know.

That’s the way I want it for now.

I need to figure things out. I need some time to myself and I need to make some decisions. I have to be able to think without shit getting in the way.

Nancy, the nurse I had at Jen’s is with me. She’s staying in the other room and she’s OK. I like this broad. She’s tough and smart and funny and outweighs me by about fifty pounds. And she’s a fucking good nurse.

Anyway, I need to think about where I’m going to live. I saw the new plans for the building and it sucks. They’re going to turn it into a boring apartment with terraces and all cut up like little boxes—you ever hear that old Pete Seeger song about little boxes? “They’re all made out of ticky-tack and they all look just the same”? Well, that’s what’s going in.

Time to move out, pardners. Jen can look for a place when I’m feeling better.

My job.

Well, there’s another whole shitload of questions there.

I guess that I can go back when I’m up to it. I mean, Vance knows that to get rid of me without cause will cost him a fortune and he’d cut off his arm first. The question is, do I want to go back?

Well, yes and no.

I like my job and I’m good at it. I’m a partner and I make decent money. I’ve been there for a long time and I know the lay of the land and where the bodies are buried. I’m established there. I could stay there for another long time if I want. I could do that.

On the other hand, I could leave.

I could either start over at another place. Even after the accident I’ve been getting feelers from some of the other agency’s wondering if I’d like to meet with them. You know, these are the big places, too, the ones Vance hates because they’re the competition. The places in New York and Chicago and LA are calling, too.

Damn, at feels good. We all want t o be wanted, you know?

Or, the big other ‘or’, I could start my own place.

I thought that I would when I was around thirty-five, but that’s not too far off and this seems like a good break point. I read a line in a book once about a character making a decision at a particular junction in his life and he says that “that wasn’t the reason for my decision, it was just the occasion for it.”

Makes sense, doesn’t it? Maybe. I have to decide.

Justin.

God, what do I do about Justin?

I think that he wants to start over, but I don’t know what the fuck to do about that.

I love him.

There I said it and if you ever repeat it I’ll deny the crap out of it.

Of course I want him back, fucking A.

Yeah, there’s the problem, now, isn’t it? Fuck. It’s not going to happen for a while. I talked to the doctor about it, the one who’s the respiratory specialist. I asked him about physical exertion and he gave me an idiot answer. He told me that I could do whatever I felt that I was up to.

You know. I might not be up to the Boston Marathon, but maybe, if I take it easy I could try walking up the stairs if I take it easy.

Then he said that I should be patient.

How the fuck do you ask nineteen year old to take it easy? He could take cold showers, he could jerk off, he could trick. He could just leave. I can’t ask him to make that kind of choice because I know what he’ll do. He’ll fucking say that he wants to be with me no matter what and that’s just bullshit.

Cliff time.

firefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefire

Justin

He’s gone; he’s just fucking gone.

When I saw that his room had been cleaned out I asked what had happened and they just said that he’d been released with his doctor’s permission.

Then they wouldn’t tell me where he’d gone, saying something about the new federal privacy regs or some shit like that.

He’s my fucking lover and I can’t even find out what Goddamned state he’s in, let alone what convalescent home or hospice or whatever he’d been put in to recover.

Fuck.

And then I asked everyone who I could think to ask, Michael, Deb, Cynthia, Linds…everyone. No one knew, or if they did, they sure as fuck weren’t talking.

Goddamnit it to fucking Hell.

It’s always fucking something.

Why the Hell can’t we just cut through the shit and love each other? I mean, that’s what we both want, right?

I know that’s what I want and I’m pretty sure Brian does, too—not that he’d ever admit that or anything.

Fuck his parents and fuck the Church and anyone else who’s screwed with his head so badly that he can’t deal with any commitment more involved that deciding what to have for dinner.

OK, except for his job, that it. That’s his Goddamned life.

You know, at first I didn’t get why he works so hard. I thought that he’d made it and he could, well, maybe not kick back, but at least take it a little easy. Especially after he made partner.

But you know what? He worked twice as hard. He said something to me that stuck. We were arguing and he was going to work and I wanted to play so I said, “Fuck business”. You know what he answered? “That’s who you’re fucking”. That’s how he defines himself, that’s all he sees himself as. OK, he knew that he was the main stud and that was a big part of him, too, but since that’s on hold he’s just business.

And then Vance fucked that for him.

He’ll regroup. I know him, he will.

I mean, that’s who he is and what he is and now and forevermore, life everlasting.

If he can, that is.

Why can’t he let me help? He said that once, too—sometimes a man has to know when to ask for help.

Fucking Brian.

Duck and cover.

Where the fuck is he?

firefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefire

Joan

I despair; I swear that there are times when I truly don’t know how I can go on. I swear that I don’t.

Well, it’s my faith in the Lord that drives me along, just as it always has been. It’s like I told Brian that time he came to sneer at me in church, I know that there is someone who I can always count on, who will always be there.

The Lord.

Brian.

If ever the Lord gave me a cross to bear, it’s him.

That awful woman, Debbie Novatny called me to say that Brian was injured and needed my help.

Brian

I knew that he would be trouble right from the start when Jack demanded that I get rid of him. It wasn’t even a baby yet, just a bunch of cells, just a lump. It wouldn’t be anything, like going to the dentist to have a filling or something. He said that it wouldn’t even have to be done in a hospital, that I could just go to a doctor’s office. One minute you have it and the next you don’t.

Well, I knew better than that.

I had heard the arguments and I had seen the pictures—I won’t go into it here, it makes me shiver just to think about it.

I’d know that it would be a sin; I knew that I would be damned for eternity. I would be a murderer. Jack didn’t care, but how could I not?

My soul burning forever. No, never.

Never be able to have the comfort of confession or communion. No. I just couldn’t.

Truth be known, I didn’t want another child any more than Jack did, but what choice did I have?

It was God’s will.

So he was born and at first he was a joy, bright and happy.

That’s how the devil works, though.

I should have known that there was something wrong with him when he decided to abandon the church when he was still so young. Satan had started crawling into his soul then and he wouldn’t join me at mass or as an alter boy. He had looked so handsome up there in his robes, so tall and solemn.

Would you like to know what he told me years later? He had the nerve, the gall to accuse Father Glen of touching him and...Well, you know.

Well, I slapped his face when he said that. Slapped him damn hard and he didn’t say anything about that again, you can count on it.

Then when I went to see him in that awful place he lives in and that boy came out of the bedroom and neither of them were fully clothed and covered in sweat—I wept for them when I got down to the street. I sat in my car and cried for both of their souls. That poor child, he looked like an angel and to know what Brian had made him do—I’m not a stupid woman, I know about these things—my own son.

I wept with fear for his lost soul and I wept for the things that poor child is forced to endure.

Well, I prayed for them both, but I just don’t know. Father Tom promised me that he would pray for them, also, but I just don’t know if it will help at this point.

That Novotny woman with her loud ways, I never could stand her. If she calls again I’ll send her packing with a large flea in her ear.

Father Tom thinks that I should make an effort to contact Brian, go to the hospital, and do what I can for him. He told me that he had stopped by when he had some time a few days ago and that he thinks it would make Brian happy if I went.

Then he asked me if it would be possible for Brian to stay at the house while he recovers, that he would have a live in nurse to take care of things and that I wouldn’t have to do all that much, just be there and talk to him and the like. Then I asked the Father if that boy, Brian’s boy would come over, would he be there? When he told me that he likely would I knew that I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

My son is a sodomite and a pedophile.

I know that we should forgive those who trespass and I need to look deeper in my heart for the strength to do that, but I just can’t right now.

Father Tom said that the boy is of age, but I don’t care about the details, the facts remain.

He is going to Hell. It is my cross to bear.

firefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefire

Michael

Fucking Justin, this is his fault.

Yeah, I know, he had nothing to do with the fire and he tried to help Brian when he was in the hospital, but fuck. Doesn’t the idiot realize that the last thing Brian needs is to have his ex lover/boyfriend hanging around like a bad penny.

I mean, Justin the is one who walked out and hurt Brian and then showed up at the diner and everywhere with the fucking musician, rubbing his face in it.

Brian did everything he could for the little ingrate and then he got kicked in the teeth.

No wonder he decided to just get lost for a while.

He probably needs to just be left alone and I guess that I can understand that. Ben says that he needs to regroup without the baggage that we all dump on him. Talk about baggage, what about fucking Justin, why doesn’t he just get a clue?

I mean, fuck—could the asshole have been more in his face if he had tried?

So now the upshot is that no one knows where Brian is or when he’s going to come back or how he’s doing.

I think we’d hear if there were any big problems, well bigger than we know about. You never know with Brian. He plays it pretty close to the chest when he wants to.

My best friend since forever and I don’t even know where the fuck he is.

Fucking Justin.

You should see him moping around the diner. You’d have thought that he’d lost his best friend.

I lost my best friend; he lost an ex who he threw out and he’s complaining that he’s all alone.

Asshole got what he deserves.

firefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefire

Lindsay

From the night I first heard I knew that Brian would have trouble with this.

Alright, I know, that sounded stupid, but think about it. He’s always been the strong one, the one who everyone comes to for help. He’d piss and moan and complain and then, with none too good grace, he’d give them whatever they needed—money or the use of his car or advice or even himself.

I know he’s been there for me and Mel and Gus more times than I can count.

So now I can see how it’s so hard for him to ask any of us for help or even let us see that he’s needs us there for him.

Justin realizes that he wants Brian now. I think he always knew it; he just needed to step back and get some perspective while he was with Ethan.

Then when Bri was hurt so badly he understood what he might lose permanently.

Poor Justin. Bri won’t make it easy for him, he’ll keep him at arms length as long as he can, but this time Justin realizes that’s what it is and that he has to wait him out.

He can. He’s steel under that blonde look he’s got going.

If anyone can wear Bri down, it’s Justin.

I just wish that I knew where the Hell he is.

Last night Gus was crying because he wanted Daddy and we couldn’t even get him on the phone.

I know that Bri needs this now, but we need him, too.

Damn him.

He’ll get better, he has to. He’s too tough not to.

I just am so scared for him.

firefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefirefire

Brian

So they moved me here today. It’s quiet and I can sleep a lot and it’s all set up on one floor, so that makes it easy. He doesn’t bother me about talking to his boss—that was the agreement when he offered to let me stay here.

He knows how I feel about that shit at this point. The rest we’ll make up as we go along.

He’s not a bad guy, easy to be around. In fact I actually like him, in a way.

No, not that way, not anymore. Not now.

It should be alright. I just had to go somewhere where everyone would leave me the fuck alone. I need to think and I have some decisions to make and I need some time to get better—if I can.

Justin.

Fuck. I need to make a decision there. He thinks he wants us back together, but I—I just don’t know. I want it, sure, but I couldn’t take another one of his mood swings on this.

If we get back together it has to be a real thing. If that’s what he wants, of course.

I think I do. If it’s like it was before, not like it was at the end.

Yeah, well, you can’t go home again, but maybe you can still live in the same neighborhood.

The job—need to figure that out, too. That should decide the home front, you know, where I live after this is over.

The landlord has agreed to keep the fact that I’m here to himself and has come up with some simple lies in case anyone asks. You know, just another soul in need.

Father Tom is OK.

I know that Joanie had some fantasies years ago, but who the fuck ever thought that I’d end up staying in a Goddamned rectory?

Return to Fire