Break

_

There was one good thing that happened that I forgot to mention.

No, really there was.

I guess that it was about six months or so ago that it happened. Justin was just finishing a round of chemo—his last round for that phase in fact, he felt like shit and looked worse, but he knew he was finished for a while so he was feeling –well, `happy' would be stupid, but he was feeling good about it.

We were in Pittsburgh at that point, staying in the loft. I had a meeting that ran late, so I was rushing to pick him up. The traffic
was bad, it was raining. The day at work hadn't gone all that well and I was just hoping that there might, just maybe might be some good news from him when I got him.

I pulled up to the front of the hospital, the place we always meet, and he was standing there, under the overhang with this big damn sunshine smile in place.

When he got in the car it was like old  times when I'd pick him up at St. James or something. "You're just so not going to believe what happened. You're just so totally fucking not going to believe it!"

"They turned you into a girl and you're a lesbian."

"Fuck you. I was in the treatment room and this woman walked in—she was from Make-A-Wish—did you know that my Mom had called them? Anyway, she told me that we're all going on my wish. Honest to God, we're all going!"

"What the fuck are you talking about? You're like a decade too old for that and when the hell did you ever talk to them?"

I pulled into traffic and headed the jeep back to the loft—he always needed to rest after the treatment—and he was practically bouncing out of the damn seat.

"I told you, my Mom talked to them a few months ago and they said that since I was only eighteen when I was diagnosed and I'm still a teenager they'll bend the rules a little and we can go. All of us can go, Mom and Molly and you and me. We're all going—can you fucking believe it?"

"Justin—how the fuck can you go away now?" I didn't want to rain on his parade, but c'mon.

"Dr. Ortiz OK'd it. I just asked him upstairs and he said it would be good for me. I'll take the meds I have to and there's a hospital pretty close if I need it and it'll be fine, Brian. It will, you'll see. It'll be great."

OK, I'll bite. "Where are we all going?"

"Mexico. You told me what a great time you had there and I've been to Europe and it's warm there now, so we're all going. We're going to the west coast, the Pacific and we'll be there for like a week or ten days and—it's going to be so great!"

God, he was speaking exclamation points.

"When are we supposed to go? I have work and don't you have—things to do?"

"God, Brian, ask for a damn week off, will you? And my chemo is over for now and—this is going to be so great!"

Damn exclamation points again.

There was nothing I could do. I spoke to Gardner the next day and explained to him what was going on. He seemed actually happy for us all, well, OK, he seemed that way even though I knew he was pissed that I'd be away for a long week or two, but he accepted tat it was going to happen. I agreed to take my laptop with me and check in on the campaigns that were up in the air, I agreed to e-mail in daily and that I'd even keep my phone with me. I did state that it would be off after about five in the evening, local time, so deal with it and he went along with that. We'd leave in a week.

OK, we had a week of Justin recovering from the latest round of chemo, which was almost enough—well enough so that he could reasonably function, anyway, and we crammed a bunch of shopping into it since he'd lost weight and all his clothes were too big for him. Molly, growing, had the opposite problem, but that was Jenn's headache.

We were provided with a limo to the airport, stopping along the way to pick up Mom and Sis. Craig, upon learning that I was going, remembered some hotshit client he couldn't miss and opted out. No one was sorry.

We were met at the airport curb by a rep from Make-A-Wish and the airlines, given VIP privileges and escorted to the First class lounge to wait for the flight.

It seemed that the airline—Liberty Air—regularly donated tickets to reputable charities, Make-A-Wish being one of them. Damn, I hadn't known that and decided then and there to do an ad for them—gratis—letting people know about the fact that they extended themselves now and then. OK, sure, I know it's PR and a tax write-off, but thank God they do it, them and companies like them. The hotel in Mexico was giving us—OK, they were giving the charity, Make-A-Wish—something like 75% off the rooms and the meals were on the house.

So the wait in the airport was about as painless as such things can be, despite the requisite photos with the various reps to show everyone how special they all were to help the poor sick waif. Justin took it well and Molly was all right, if a bit overshadowed by being the younger tag along sister yet again. After maybe an hour or so, we were shown to one of those golf cart things they have in airports and driven to the gate. You know something? I never thought about just how cool they were until I got to ride on one. OK, I know I sounding lame here, but I got a charge out of it…just driving past all those peasants and knowing they were wondering just who the Hell we were to rate the special treatment.

OK, fine, I admit it…there's still a part of me that likes shit like that, OK?

We boarded the plane, first class, priority seating and settled in. Now, I've flown business class any number of times, but first class really is more comfortable. I know, I know, anything would be better than being one of the cattle, but first is a kick. You get these big comfortable leather seats with everything you can think of at your fingertips. You have your TV and your choice of movies or news, you have the phone and your computer hookup. You have enough food to crash the plane. You have the attendants catering to your every whim—especially when you're with someone like Justin who just has to turn on his smile and it's like Mary Tyler Moore turning the world on. I think they would have let him fly the damn plane if he'd asked.

We sat next to each other, of course, Molly and Jenn in the seats directly in front of us. I'm not sure if the attendants knew we were gay or not, but I'm pretty sure they had their suspicions. I sure as Hell know that `Tony' was taking a damn close interest in Justin until I gave him a couple pf good looks. I guess he clued in at that point because from then on `Joanie' helped us with whatever we needed help with.

In fact, we didn't need much at all. Justin's appetite still wasn't hitting on all cylinders and he was tired since he'd been too excited to sleep the night before. And he is still dealing with the effects of recent chemo; let's not forget that, after all. I reclined his seat, having declined Tony's offer to help, and arranged a blanket over him. I think he slept almost the whole way there. Molly was watching whatever she was watching on the video and Jenn seemed to be reading most of the way. I spent a couple of hours going over the new ads for Purina and roughed in some ideas for Liberty's freebie and soon enough we were closing in on Ixtapa.

Ixtapa, that's where we were going. It's a resort town on the west coat of Mexico a bit north of Acapulco. It's maybe a couple of miles from what used to be a sleepy fishing village call Zihijatenjo, or something like that and it has these amazing beaches and warm weather and palm trees…damn, it's nice.

We were met again at the local airport and driven to our hotel, which was spread out over about fifteen acres of manicured grounds and beachfront. After checking in—and being met at the front desk with cold fruit drinks to ward off the almost ninety degree heat, we were taken, again by little golf cart, to our rooms. Boys together and girls together was what we had assumed, but the bellboy seemed to think that I was with Jenn, maybe her boy toy or her second husband or something. Justin set him straight, as it were, with a casual arm around my waist and his take no prisoners walk into our room and a kiss on my shoulder when he saw the king sized bed.

It was apparent that we would be the talk of the employees lounge for a day or so.

So we're checked into our rooms, it's still only abut two in the afternoon, Molly has already changed and taken off to one of the three beaches the hotel owns and Jenn was ready to sit by the pool with some magazines after she made sure that Justin had enough sun block to smother the entire country.

I thought that Justin would be tired from the travel, but he had slept and was excited to be there. He changed, made me get a suit on—reminding me that not only were we not alone but we were in a Catholic country—and we found out way to the smallest beach. It was lined with lounge chairs and was a small bay, protected on almost three sides. The surf, such as it was, was gentle and there was a school of some kind of fish—maybe two feet long—that seemed to hang out and wait for the tourists to throw them crusts of bread from the nearby restaurant. There were rocks; large rocks, all around and some kind iguanas seemed to spend a lot of their time just hanging out on them catching the sun. In the week we were there, they never bothered anyone and after a while I started to think of them as amphibious squirrels.

I set Justin up on a chaise, making sure that he was out of the direct sun and under a palm tree. He was still slathered with that sun block—I think he was more susceptible to burning because of the chemo or something, and made sure that he was OK. I walked over to the restaurant that bordered one side of the little bay, getting myself a beer and him a soda. As I was waiting one of the other guests at the bar struck up a conversation.

"You just get here? You're pretty white."

Shit, the guy was hitting on me. Now, normally that wouldn't be a problem, it's not like I don't know how to handle it, but I just really wasn't in the mood. I mean, Hell, I'd just gotten there, the place was beautiful. Justin was happy and relaxed, it was warm and the sun was shining. I was feeling good and I just wasn't in the mood, you know?

"I'm not interested." My standard line.

"It looks like your little brother is down for the count, he won't care."

"My drinks, if you don't mind."

"You don't have to decide now, I'll be here later, or tomorrow."

I gave the guy one of my looks. He was flabby and had that comb over thing going—I mean, Christ. "I'm not interested. Fuck off."

"Why? You like `em young?"

"I don't like `em like you. I said fuck off." I got my drinks, the bartender staring at the two of us, catching what was going on. The fat bald guy moved off.

"Don't worry about him, he tries that with every man who shows up here, and if they look anything like you, he just tries harder. He gives you any trouble, you just let me know, OK?"

I turned to the bartender. He was decent; there was a time when I would have done him. I might still consider it, depending how the week went. He seemed to mean what he was saying. "Why? What do you care?"

"Because I get tired of that shit myself and you must get it a lot. You're probably here with someone, right?" I nodded. "So, what do you need that asshole ruining your fun for?" He held out his hand. "I'm Alex."

"Brian."

"Good to meet you. You want to see some of the local places, you and your friend, you ask me. No big deal, no problem—just places the locals go to unwind."  He caught my suspicions. "No, no shit, just some of my friends. We play pool, have a couple of beers, maybe dance, that's all. Mexico is great, but it's not exactly liberal, don't be stupid unless you want trouble."

He seemed to mean it. "Thanks, Alex. I'll remember that."

"See ya."

"Later." A few nights later we took him up on his offer—nothing special, just a bunch of guys in a bar that could have been Woody's if Woody's had palm trees outside. We had a few beers, played some pool, just a regular evening out. No one bothered us and it was nice.

Anyway.

I walked the fifty yards or so back to the lounge chairs under the trees, Justin smiled his thanks at the soda. "Want to swim?"

I nodded; it was hot even without the trolls—or maybe despite them. I held out my hand, pulling him up. The water was warm, maybe eighty degrees, and damn it felt good. We swam, floated, paddled around for maybe half an hour before we'd had enough.

After another hour or so of lying on the chairs basically vegging we headed back to the room. The sun was hot and tropical and Justin was still sick. He showered—OK, I helped him, and helped him relax while we were in there, then he went down for a nap until dinner. I was sitting on the balcony, looking over a client file when Jenn let herself in.

"How is he?"

"Fine, sleeping."

"I thought that if you two are up to it, we could meet for dinner at the main dining room at seven."

"Sure, that sounds fine."

"Did he have his meds?"

"Yes."

"Have you allowed for the time difference? It could be a problem if you haven't…"

"Obviously."

"Have you made any plans for tomorrow?"

 

This was starting to sound like twenty questions, I was hot and tired and had the beginnings of a headache from the sun and the travel day. I wasn't in the mood for this. "No, we haven't talked about anything. Have you?"

"Molly wants to go into town and do some shopping."

I just looked at her; it was beyond me what she was getting at this time. Oh, screw it. "Why do you ask?"

"She would like you and Justin to come with us. I think she has some idea of us being a family, maybe doing some Christmas shopping or something like that."

This wasn't what I expected.

"Look, Jenn…it's not a good idea to let her think that this is some kind of family trip to Disney world. I'm not her father, we're not married. We're all here because Justin is sick and that's about all there is to it."

She sat on the edge of the balcony railing. "She needs a family right now. She's lost her father and now she may lose her brother." She paused while I wondered if she was considering tears as a final plea. She didn't, thank God. "Please, Brian."

Damn it. "I'd rather that he just have some downtime tomorrow. If he's willing we can go to town the day after—if we can go in the morning before it gets too hot, but as soon as he gets tired we're taking a cab back here so he can rest."

She smiled that Pepsodent smile, the one she probably used to win prom queen, nodded her thanks and left me alone. A couple of minutes later when I checked on Justin he was awake, just lying there. He looked over at me.

"She's right. Molly has cast you as a surrogate father since Dad crapped out."

"Bullshit."

"That day she came to the park with us and Gus was when it started. She saw you as a father then and it stuck. Just don't mess her over, OK?"

"That's such bull…"

"I mean it, don't hurt my sister, she has enough shit to deal with." God, he sounded like the cliché of the big bad brother warning off a date.

"Don't worry."

Then he relaxed. He knew I meant it.

So the next day we took a cab into the local town. OK, we took a cab directly to the local town's tourist center where they had about a million stalls selling anything you could want from Mexico—serapes, hammocks—Justin wanted to get a couple for the loft which I declined. He bought them anyway to string on the roof, weather permitting. They had those wedding dresses and enough silver jewelry to strip at least twenty silver mines. The ladies bought about ten thousand things for Christmas presents, I bought tequila, Justin bought real vanilla extract by the liter for like three dollars to bring back to Deb for her cooking and I wandered off and found what I was looking for. After about two hours the sun was making itself known, even in the shade and Justin had enough. Leaving the women, we caught a VW bug cab back to the hotel. We changed into our suits and headed to the pool to hang and rest.

That's where we spent the day with just an hour break to get some lunch.

That was pretty much how we spent most of the week, in fact. We would get up around nine, get dressed...maybe after a little morning eye opening of one kind or another…head down for breakfast then make the major decision of the day—beach or pool. Once that was settled we would hang, swim when we got hot, get something to drink when we were thirsty and eat almost non-stop, or Justin did, anyway. I tried to be reasonable. Sometimes Molly or Jenn or both would join us, sometimes not. We ate most, but not all meals together.

The ladies went shopping a couple more times, leaving us alone.

In the evening Justin would usually be tired so we would maybe see the hotel movie or just sit on the balcony together. A couple of nights we pulled lounge chairs down near the surf and just lay there, listening to the water and the distant music from the hotel nightclub. It was far enough away to just be background.

I like Mexico. I really do. I know—it's poor and there aren't enough jobs and Mexico City is over crowded and polluted and there are more problems then you can count, but the people I met were kind and there are parts that are incredibly beautiful. There's a grace there that I like and a kind of dignity almost like it's been here for a long time and it's still going to be here after you go home and move on to something else—sort of like Justin. It's, I guess it's solid or something. God, listen to me. I sound like a travel brochure.

The last night we were there, the night before we had to leave to fly back to Pittsburgh and whatever the Hell would happen there, we were down by the water. It was maybe ten at night. It was warm, we'd had a great dinner of fresh local fish grilled in front of us and Jenn had taken Molly someplace. Justin was holding my hand and neither of us was saying much. It was nice there. It was private and it was peaceful and it was—nice. I used to hate that word, it's just so lame, but that's what it was—calm and pleasant and safe and warm.

I pulled the thing I'd found in the marketplace out of my pocket, sitting up and facing Justin. We were still holding hands. I lifted his up and tied the thing on. He watched me, even in the dark. The moon was light enough to see.

I heard once that the moon in the tropics is bright enough that you can read a newspaper by it. Well, I doubt that, but it was bright enough to see what I'd given him. I was worried that he wouldn't like it, or that he might not want it, but I was wrong to worry. He was happy.

It was a shell bracelet, like the one I wore, the one I'd found in Mexico years before, the one that my nephew John had stolen and Justin had returned. I'd had his initials carved into one of the shells, like mine had. Then he dropped my hand and untied the strings and I thought that he'd had second thoughts or something.

He took his off then he reached for my right hand and untied my bracelet.

He traded them…I had his and he had mine. He looked a question at me, to see if it was all right.

It was.

He smiled that smile he has. You know the one I mean, the one where he's so happy that he can't really talk so it does the talking for him, then he pulled my hand over to him—we were still holding hands—and kissed my fingers.

That was all he had to do.

It was—nice.

_

Note: A few months ago there was a bit of a bright spot in this story—the real story. The Make-A-Wish Foundation sent Lisa and her family
to Mexico for a much needed two-week vacation. During this long pull, there have been any number of individuals and groups and
organizations who have helped. Make-A-Wish is one of the good ones.

Merry Christmas.



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