Slow Road Back
Warning!!! Main Character
Death
She straightened and turned away from the fridge, Heineken in hand, to the words “What the fuck is he doing here? I mean, that is his car in the driveway, right?” Though angry, the words were a question, rather than a challenge.
“I could say the same thing to you, Craig.”
The visit was unexpected and Jennifer tried not to let him see that he had startled her. He hadn’t been to the house since Justin had moved in with Kinney, since the boy had walked out after the confrontation in the living room a few months ago. He had missed everything between the day their son had left and now. He hadn’t even managed to make it to the hospital after the bashing, claiming that he couldn’t risk seeing Kinney there, couldn’t promise that he would be able to control his anger at the man he held responsible for everything that had happened.
His voice under obvious control, he attempted small talk as an opener. “Since when do you drink beer, Jen?”
“I was getting it for Brian.” She stepped around him, closed the kitchen door so that she wouldn’t be overheard. “I asked him to come here a few days ago, Craig. He’s the only one who can get through to Justin right now and Justin needs him. If you’d been here, you’d know that.”
Craig leaned against the counter, hands resting lightly beside him. It was his usual stance when they talked here over the years and there had been so many talks. They had stood here when she had told him that she was pregnant with Molly and when she had found that lump that turned out to be benign. They had been here when he had told her that he had made vice president and that he thought they could finally get that pool put in that they had wanted for years. It was the room where he had first confronted Justin about the mistakes that he was making and when he first demanded that he stop seeing the older man who had seduced him.
“Jen, I don’t want to argue. Please, we can get him whatever help he needs, but I won’t have Kinney in my house.”
“You gave up your say when you decided not to live here anymore”
He took the beer from her hand and opened it for himself. “…Does he sleep here, too?”
“He has been the last few nights…”
“God, Jen…”
“Because Justin gets upset when he leaves. The only way he can sleep without drugs is if Brian is with him. Look, I’m not thrilled with this any more than you are, but I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Doesn’t he have a job?” He took a drink from the bottle.
Jennifer nodded. “I think he’s on some kind of leave.” She pulled another beer from the fridge. “Look, Craig, why don’t you talk to him yourself? Could you do that? I’ll go with you if you want.”
“I just came by to get some clothes.”
“He’s not as bad as you think, you know.” She opened the second bottle. “And he does care about Justin.”
“As what? A fuck? Jesus, Jen, I don’t believe you.”
“He’ll probably go if you tell him to, but Justin will go with him. You won’t be able to stop him any more than I can.”
Twenty minutes later he was walking back into the house after collecting
and depositing an armful of clothing in the backseat of his car. He returned
to the kitchen, opened two beers and walked out back to the pool. It was
a rare hot sunny day for
Craig saw him look up as he walked closer. Quietly, so as not to wake his son, he asked, “Could I speak with you?” Brian hesitated. “Just talk, nothing else.” Nodding, he removed Justin’s arm and rose as carefully as he could without disturbing his sleep, following the older man into what was, or had been his living room.
“How is he? I mean, are the nightmares getting better?”
Brian was wary, obviously not trusting the man’s motives or what he might do. “Some. He seems to be having less trouble sleeping the last couple of nights.” Craig wasn’t going to ask if they did anything other than sleep up in Justin’s room. Remembering, he handed Brian the second Heineken that he’d been holding.
“Look, Jen told me that you’re helping Justin. I wanted—thank you.”
Brian just stared at him, providing no opening. This was the man who had attacked him twice, thrown him out of this same house not all that long ago. “Excuse me?”
The man seemed defeated. Whatever the game was, he’d lost and he hadn’t even known that they were playing, and if he had known he sure didn’t have a clue what the rules were. The prize, the winner take all, was Justin.
“Could I ask you something?” Brian nodded, suspicious. “Why my son? You’re almost twice his age. Why have you kept him around? Is it for your ego?” The impenetrable expression was in place on Kinney’s face. “ I’ve asked about you. People told me that you have your pick of any one of those men at that—place I found you two. Why hang on to Justin?”
“What the fuck do you care?”
Justin’s father looked as though he had been slapped. OK, he admitted that he hated Kinney, and with cause, but Justin was still his son. He changed tactics, his voice still beaten down.
“So you’re helping him get past this—attack. Then what happens to him, after he’s better?”
“You mean after I dump him?” One eyebrow was slightly raised, the tone snide.
“Jen says that he’s in love with you. Justin told me that himself. You can’t think I believe that a child of Justin’s age and level of sophistication can hold your interest for long.”
“And you think that after I tire of him he’ll go back to being
the perfect country club son? Go to
Craig sat down heavily in the armchair; the same one Brian had sat in the day he had tried to return Justin to his family, looked out the window. “When you told your parents, what did they do? What do they do now?”
“He called me a fucking fairy then he asked me not to tell my mother, I haven’t. Now he’s dead.”
“How the hell could she not know? Didn’t she ever wonder why you never had a girlfriend?”
Brian looked at him for a moment. “Why are you asking this shit?”
“You’re fucking my son. You’ve been fucking him for months now. Now you’re living in my Goddamned house with him. I’d like to know something about who Justin is involved with.”
Brian was smirking, “Christ. Are you going to ask me about my prospects next? Want to make sure I can support him in the manner to which he’s accustomed?” He swallowed some beer. “I’m not going to fucking marry him. As soon as he’s better, I go home and he does whatever he wants.” He took another drink. “There. Feel better?”
Jen walked into the room, seeing the men squared off and feeling the tension between them, just as it had been the last time they had both been together in this room. She was struck by the contrasts between them. Brian standing there, young, strong, arrogant and confidant, looking elegant, sleek even in a black tank and jeans, barefoot. Craig seated, beaten down in a wrinkled suit minus the jacket and with a look of exhaustion. Brian was the one who seemed at home, Craig the interloper.
“If you two can’t even pretend to be civil to one another, then take this somewhere else. I won’t have Justin upset. Do you both understand me?”
“Jen, there must be someone else who can help Justin besides this man. Daphne? A psychiatrist? There must be someone else.”
“What upsets you the most? That he’s turning to another queer for help or that he’s not turning into a clone of you?”
“Brian. Please.”
He wouldn’t apologize, of course, but he did look like he’ll take it down a few degrees. Craig tried again.
“Look, sit down. I really would like to understand—this.”
Brian took a seat across from Craig and seemed willing to talk, to start the conversation over. Jennifer was perched on the same couch she had been on that last time they were all in this room together.
“This is—hard for me. I never thought that Justin was…and “
“And you’ve always thought that it’s disgusting and that the acts and the feelings that two men might have together are perverted?” The words were mild and he continued, “I knew from the time I was around twelve that I was attracted to men. I probably knew before that, but couldn’t articulate it. It’s not a choice; any more than being straight is a choice. It scared me at first.”
“What did you do, could you talk to anyone?”
“You mean like a priest or a teacher or my parents? The priest was an old perv who liked little boys so I quit being an altar boy. My mother was very upset. My father would have just had another reason to hit me if he had known. He was stronger than you, Craig. You wouldn’t have made it at my house.” He ghosted a smile without humor. “My mother would have prayed for my soul and continue to wish she had aborted me as my father requested. The first person I screwed was a teacher. That covered the usual options, even if I was willing to talk to them, which I wasn’t. About that time we moved and I made a good friend. We’re still friends and we talked.”
“How—difficult is it to be gay?”
He saw the raised eyebrows, the smirk starting again. “I don’t know, Craig. How hard is it to be straight?”
“I mean, what about your job? Do you hide it there?”
“No, I don’t but there are a lot of people who do. Some of my friends do.”
“Doesn’t it make it harder for you?”
“I’m good enough and senior enough that it doesn’t matter. But every gay can tell you about things that have happened. Justin’s case is extreme, but things happen all the time. You learn to deal with them.”
“I don’t want him to have to deal with them.”
“You have no say in the matter.”
There was a pause. “Justin thinks that he’s in love with you.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“So you will throw him out and my son is just a—fuck to you.” His beliefs were confirmed.
The answer, after a moment, was calm and spoken quietly. “No, I won’t throw him out. He’ll leave himself and I wouldn’t do this for just a fuck. Eventually, he’ll tire of me and leave on his own.” The words were more thoughtful that they first appeared and almost introspective.
Jennifer seemed moved by his honesty, but before she could speak they heard Justin’s voice, panicked, calling for Brian. He turned at the sounds, immediately going to the young man, his parents following. By the time they got there, Brian was already kneeling by the side of the chaise. Justin was clutching at his back, crying, being comforted by him.
Craig and Jennifer stood in the doorway, not wanting to interfere with
what Brian so obviously had under control. From where they were they
couldn’t make out all the words, just the anguish in Justin’s voice,
that he had woken alone and was afraid that Brian had left him. Brian’s
voice was quiet, just soothing sounds from where they stood, but they knew
that whatever he was saying to their son was working, calming the panic.
Brian pulled slightly back, his hand
cupping Justin’s cheek and jaw and the youngster looking at him with
complete trust. Both parents saw the effect Kinney had on their son and,
allowing them privacy, went back inside.
“That’s why I had to
ask him to stay.” Craig just looked through the window to where his
son and his lover were gently kissing. “He won’t admit it, but
he loves Justin, too.”
“Christ, Jen, how the Hell
can you just accept him in this house? Even if he can calm Justin, that
doesn’t change what he’s done. After what’s happened? If he
hadn’t gone to the dance and provoked everyone by making a spectacle
out of the two of them, the
“That’s what I thought,
too.” She was watching as Brian took Justin’s hand and pulled him
to his feet. Justin seemed to be asking Brian something to which he nodded
an agreement. A moment later they heard the two of them go upstairs. There
was a soft click as Justin’s bedroom door latched
shut.
“Jesus Christ. Are they going
to…?”
“Probably.” Jennifer
spread her hands in a gesture of reluctant acceptance. “I thought that
he stayed away from the hospital until one of the nurses told me that he
spent every night there, just watching and holding his hand. One night I
stayed late to talk with him. I said all the same things to him that you
did—that he was responsible, that he was bad for Justin, that if he
had any sense of decency he would leave and not come
back.”
“Evidently you didn’t
make much of an impression on him.”
She turned to the sink, filling
the teakettle and putting it on the stove to boil. “Actually, I did.
He left and didn’t return. He only came back when I went to his office
three weeks later to ask if he would try to help when Justin began having
the nightmares two and three times a night and nothing we did
helped.”
“Where does he work? What’s
his job?”
She was getting out some herbal
tea bags, lemon mist. “One of the high rises downtown. He’s some
kind of executive at a big ad agency.”
“He’s some damn advertising
hack?”
“He’s high enough up
that his assistant has her own secretary and I got the impression that a
lot of people report to him.”
“Makes
money?”
She was getting out her favorite
mug. “I would think so. From the look of things I’d guess that
he makes at least as much as you do, probably more.” The kettle started
whistling, she poured her tea. “I asked him to help Justin. And he
didn’t hesitate. He was here within an
hour.”
Craig crossed over to the fridge,
got himself another beer. “Damnit, I keep seeing him outside that Goddamned
gay club, kissing Justin, their arms around each other. It—they
were—the way they were…it was so
blatantly—sexual.”
She was looking down into her
tea. “I know. That’s a large part of what’s between them and
I’m no happier about it than you are. They try to be discrete and at
least they don’t do anything in front of
Molly.”
“Molly. God. How the Hell
can you allow this with her in the same house? Have you given any thought
at all to what this is doing to her? Christ, Jen.
Think.”
“Molly likes Brian. He’s
nice to her. I think that she has a crush on
him.”
“Oh, great.” He took
a long pull on the beer. “Well, Justin or not, I’m putting a stop
to this.”
“Craig, you can’t.
He’s getting better by the day, you can’t set him
back.”
“I need some of the tax records
for the accountant, then I’m throwing that degenerate out and I won’t
have you trying to interfere. Do you understand me, Jen? I haven’t heard
anything to change my mind. This is going to
stop.”
“Craig…”
“Jen, you think that
this…man is helping Justin because he’s able to take him to bed?
For God’s sake, he’s the one who told Justin that he’s nothing
more than a fuck to him. Not half an hour ago he sat in our living room and
told us that Justin’s life will be harder because he’s gay and
that he may have to live with lies and secrecy just to get along. Do you
really think that I’d thank that monster after what he’s done to
my son?”
“He was just being honest,
that’s all. And whether he’s in Justin’s life or not, Justin
is gay.”
“God
Damnit…”
“And if you throw him out,
Justin will go with him. Is that what you
want?”
He sighed, shook his head. “You
know I don’t. Look, you reason with him and you tell him that if he
leaves him alone, I won’t press charges. Justin was seventeen when this
started. I’m going to get those tax records then I’m going to talk
to that bastard.” He left to go to his office down the hall. Jennifer
walked out to the pool, trying not to think too much as she watched the
water.
Twenty minutes later Brian came
over to her. “He’s asleep. I have to go to the loft to get some
things.”
“Craig wants to speak with
you before you go.”
He sat at the end of the chaise
she was sitting on, not touching her. “I know what he wants. Do you
want me to leave? Justin is getting better, he’ll probably be all right
without me.” She was still looking at the ripples in the
pool.
“I want Justin to be happy,
and with you he is.”
“But you’d still rather
that he was fucking Daphne than me.”
“I’d rather that he
wasn’t fucking anyone, but I don’t see that I have a choice in
the matter.”
“You know that you can’t
keep him here if he decides to go.”
“Of course I do. I would
hope that you would respect our wishes if it comes to
it.”
He stood up, obviously angry though
his voice remained under control. “I don’t give a fuck what your
wishes are. It’s between Justin and me.”
“…Brian, he says that
if you don’t leave, he’ll press charges against you and I believe
him.”
“Fuck.”
“He can’t do that.”
They both looked up as Justin came over to them, stopping with his hand on
Brian’s shoulder. “If he tries that I’ll lie, I’ll say
that nothing happened before I turned
eighteen.”
Craig was in the doorway, walking
towards them, a file of tax information in his hand. “Justin, I’m
just trying to do what I think is best for you, just trying to protect
you.”
“Screw you. I love Brian
and I’m going to be with him whether you approve or
not.”
“Justin, please just
lis…”
“No. I won’t listen.
I mean it. If you try any shit, I’ll lie and tell the court that we
were just friends until I turned eighteen and that he was the one who insisted
that we wait.”
Brian put his hand on Justin’s
arm. “Justin, it won’t come to that. No one wants a court fight.”
He looked over at Craig. “I’m sure that your father wouldn’t
put you through something like
that.” It was thrown as
a challenge that only the adults’ saw, Justin took it as the reassurance
it was intended for him.
Craig seemed to shrink under the
looks from his wife and son. “Fine. You win. I can’t fight this
if you’re both against me.” He turned to go. “I’ll be
in touch, Jen.”
Justin sat next to Brian, all
three of them on the chaise. They heard Craig’s car start and the motor
sound fade as he drove away. “You’re all right,
Justin?”
He nodded to Jen. “Yeah.
Is he really going to drop it now?”
“I think so, sweetie.”
She was lying.
A week later Justin was moved
into Brian’s loft and on the final leg of his recovery. His hand still
required therapy, but it was coming along, if not as quickly as Justin would
have liked. He was frustrated, but the new graphics computer might, he grudgingly
thought, be at least part of the answer.
Brian would admit to himself,
if to no one else, that he was happy about the way things had finally turned
out. The annoying little twink who wouldn’t leave was important to him
and having him there when he got home and beside him at night helped him
chase away the boogie men that had lived under his bed for too long. He looked
forward to walking in the door of the loft and smelling dinner cooking, or
having Justin’s face light up at the sight of him. He liked to know
that at night he would have a warm body next to him, curled against his own
and that in the morning they would shower together before beginning their
day. He began to be secure with the knowledge that someone loved him and
that it was someone who would be there for a while. And, though he couldn’t
admit it yet, he knew that he loved Justin.
This was going to be good. He
could feel it. It scared the Hell out of him half of the time, but he was
going forward with both feet and eyes open.
OK, it might not last forever,
but then they weren’t lesbians, for God’s sake. He’d take
it while it was there.
He was at his desk, trying to
plough through the backlog that had built up while he was dealing with
everything; the bashing, Justin’s recovery, the trial. It meant that
he worked late every night, either at the office or at the loft. He had to
spend almost every weekend working. There were too many trips out of town
to sooth skittish clients. He was exhausted, but to slow down was to stop
dead and he knew that the piranhas in the agency would eat him alive if they
smelled weakness.
They wouldn’t, he wouldn’t
let them.
“Brian? There’s a Mr.
Taylor here to see you He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says that
you know him.”
Fuck.
“Yes, send him
in.”
“All right. Don’t forget
that you have that lunch meeting in an hour at Point
Park.”
Craig walked in, stood by one
of the chairs in front of Brian’s desk. Dressed in a suit, he had likely
come from work.
“Jen told me that you let
Justin move in with you last week.”
Brian saw no reason to comment
on an obvious statement.
“So you’ve won. He’s
yours.”
“He made his own choice.
And you only lose if you continue to try to dictate his life to
him.”
“You’ve snowed Justin
into thinking that you care about him and you’ve managed to somehow
convince Jen that you’re actually good for him, but I don’t believe
that. I simply know better.”
Brian sat back in his chair, his
fingers laced in front of him, his attitude one of slight
boredom.
“Is that what you came here
to say or do you have something new to add?”
Not saying anything, he pulled
out the small handgun he’d had in his pocket, and fired once before
Brian could react.
Hit dead center in the chest,
he was slammed back against the chair, his look one of
disbelief.
Shot two more times, Kinney was
dead.
Cynthia saw him fire the final
shot into his own temple.
Return to Simon's Fanfiction