Time Away
Part 1
Please note: I’ve never been to Jamaica, though I have been to other islands and am familiar with snorkeling and scuba and island foods and the like. I have no idea what the laws in that country are and, with all respect, don’t really care all that much. If you happen to know about these things and wish to tell me, that’s fine—I’m always happy to learn, but this is just a story and we’ll chalk it up to literary license.
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“Brian? Are you sure that you want to do this now? You have a couple of really big accounts to pitch in a couple of weeks. Shouldn’t you behave yourself and stay around here?”
“Fuck off, Cynthia. I think it’s a great idea. This might be the best fucking idea I’ve had all year.”
“But Vance will…”
“And fuck Vance, too. Just make the arrangements and get the tickets on my desk by the end of the day or I’ll have your ass.”
“You wouldn’t want my ass.”
“Never assume.”
“Brian, are you sure…?”
“I’ll take some work with me, I’ll have my laptop. I’m not going to Siberia. Just take care of it for me, OK?”
“…OK, I’ll have it all on your desk by four.”
“Thanks, now, call down to legal and see if we can use that quote without Madonna signing off on it.”
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“Brian? You’re back late, I saved some dinner for you, do you want me to heat it up for you?”
“Sure, thanks.” He removed his heavy coat and scarf, and then followed Justin into the kitchen.
“It’s just some chicken and I roasted some potatoes around it. Is that OK?”
“Sounds good.” He leaned his forearms on the counter top while standing on the living room side. As Justin turned back from putting the plate in the microwave he saw the plane tickets Brian had placed on the marble. He didn’t touch them, just glanced at the folders then looked up.
“Brian?”
“I thought that we might go away for a week or so. I need a break and I thought you could use one, too.”
That smile broke through. “Are you shitting me? Where are we going?” Brian casually put his hand on the folders so Justin couldn’t see or pick them up.
“I don’t know. Might be a bad idea. You probably burn.”
“Where? Someplace warm? Brian?”
“Probably wouldn’t want to take the time off, I can understand that. You need to do your school work.”
“You fuck. Where?”
“You can just water the plants while I’m gone.”
“You shit. What makes you think I’d want to go with you anyway?”
“You don’t have to.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“…Brian?”
“Jamaica.”
Throwing his arms around Brian’s neck, Justin was laughing and hugging and kissing all at the same time. “No fucking way!”
“We leave Friday morning for ten days. We’re staying at a place I heard about from some friends—perfect beach, perfect weather, fabulous restaurants—think you can manage to get away?”
“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes!”
“OK, twat, you need to clear everything with the diner and see if you can bring some assignments with you from school. We’re outta here day after tomorrow.”
Later that evening, after dinner and love making and a shower and more love making Justin asked “What made you decide to do this now? I mean, you said last week that you didn’t think that you could get away. Did something happen?”
“You are such a fucking twat. Haven’t you ever heard that you’re not supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth?”
“I’m not a fucking twat and you never do anything without planning ahead. What happened?”
“Fuck off, twat. I have work tomorrow. Go to sleep.”
“Brian…”
“Shut up.” Flicking the blue lights off, they spooned together.
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Friday morning they boarded the Liberty Air Flight direct to Kingston, Justin excited when he saw that the seats were in first class. After only a short wait as far as flights in the new millennium go, they were airborne.
“I’ve only flown first once and that was because the airline overbooked, but I was only like seven years old. Brian—this is going to be so fabulous.”
“We’ll try, anyway. Have you ever been to the Caribbean before?”
“Not really. I’ve been to Mexico with my parents and we went to Disneyworld and got over to the Gulf when I was ten, but we never went to any of the islands.” The steward was bringing around the tray with French pastries. Brian declined, Justin took a plate full. They both accepted the champagne. Justin noticed that Brian was getting the once over from the steward and the woman across the aisle. Brian ignored them. “Have you?”
“No, just Mexico about ten years ago. Mikey and I went down spring break my senior year at Penn with a few other friends. It was the Pacific side, though.”
Justin was swallowing a small éclair. “Isn’t that where you got your bracelet?”
“Yup.”
“Maybe we can get something like that to remind us of this trip.”
“Christ, you’re not going to get a bunch of cheapshit souvenirs, are you?”
He gave that smile. “A hammock for the loft and some piñatas and some pottery.”
“That’s Mexico and if you buy that shit I’ll fucking leave you there.”
They refilled their glasses and settled in. Brian pulled out his laptop to start some copy rewrites and Justin stared out the window. After about half an hour he was bored. There were still a couple of hours to go on the flight.
“Hey, Brian? Have you ever done it on a plane?”
He didn’t look up. “Not with you.” He felt a hand lightly stroking his inner thigh through his jeans. “The plane is full.”
“The bathroom isn’t.”
“You remember George?”
“Jesus, he was a hundred and twelve—you worried?”
Not bothering to say anything, Brian, sitting in the aisle seat, got up and went to the head up near the cockpit. Five minutes later, Justin joined him.
With no sounds, they began kissing, quickly and deeply, hands roaming, stroking, caressing over backs and sides and fronts. Jeans and Khaki’s were quickly opened and slid down, Brian turned Justin around over the miniscule sink and within minutes they were both left to catch their breath and wipe down the counter. They stood where they were for a couple extra minutes, Brian kissing the back of Justin’s neck, Justin clutching Brian’s hands around him. In an odd way, the tight quarters made it seem somehow even more intimate. Perhaps they could install one of these at the loft when they got back.
Finally, laughing silently, they helped one another redress, smooth down messed hair and—separately—left the tiny cabin to the slight smirk of the cabin attendant who was waiting outside. The woman across the aisle pretended not to notice while staring at them from the corner of her eye.
The rest of the flight went smoothly, they were both a bit more relaxed, and Brian resumed his work while Justin sketched.
“You didn’t even tell me, which hotel are we staying at?”
“It’s small, a guesthouse that someone told me about. It’s near Montego Bay on a private beach. I asked for one of the private cottages.”
Justin looked at Brian like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You found a romantic hideaway for us?” He leaned over and kissed Brian’s jaw. “Really?”
“Is that alright?” The look on Brian’s face was one Justin remembered from the time he had destroyed the work he and Mikey had done on Rage a year or so ago. He looked almost frightened, as though Justin might laugh or wonder why he would do such a thing. Raising his hand to Brian’s face, Justin turned him so that they could kiss full on the mouth.
“It sounds like it’s perfect.” They kissed again. “And they won’t care that we’re together at this place?”
“It’s run by a gay couple of expats from England. I think their names are Stuart and Vince or something like that. I heard that they’re from Manchester.”
“Like the Beatles.”
“Whom you listened to on oldie stations, as I recall.”
“Bite me. Brian.”
“Alright.” Any continuation of the conversation was stopped by a sharp and sickening drop of the plane under them. They heard screams from the back of the plane and the glasses on their trays crashed to the floor.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Captain tells us that we are running into some clear air turbulence. At this time we ask that you return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
This was immediately followed by another series of lurches and the sounds of straining engines. Brian put his arm around Justin, pulling him close.
The lurches went on, accompanied by the sounds of breaking glass from the galley. At one point the steward fell, only missing the arm of Brian’s seat by his quick catch of the man. He was forced to move hand over hand to the Attendants jump seats, strapping himself in.
The jolts went on, overhead compartments sprang open, spilling carryon luggage onto the heads of the passengers. They could hear children crying from the economy area. There was shouting, then a controlled voice told everyone to please stay seated, that they would get back to help. Please just stay where you were and don’t try to move around.
It went on for at least twenty minutes, the jolts and hits to the plane hard and, though expected, without real warning or reason. At least on a roller coaster, you could see the drops coming.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, This is the Captain speaking. I apologize for the rough flight today, but we’re received permission to climb about this and things should be smoothing out. Cabin attendants can return to their stations. Thank you for staying as calm as you all did.”
They could feel the plane gaining altitude, hear the increased noise from the engines and in a few minutes the feeling of being out of control lessened enough for the seatbelt sign to be turned off.
Justin’s hands continued to clench Brian’s and the older man could feel the trembling, realizing that he was truly frightened.
Saying nothing, Brian kept his arm around Justin’s shoulders, holding him close, rubbing his cheek and stroking his hair until the shaking almost disappeared. Finally Brian spoke softly into his ear. “Alright now?”
Justin nodded as he slowly relaxed.
Finally able to look out the window again, Justin made Brian lean over to look with him—the colors of the water were beyond description. Blues, greens, aqua’s, whites, navy and forest, slate gray that amazed with their variety and clarity. He turned to Brian with his smile in place, kissing again his thanks for allowing them to see this together.
An hour later the plane made its final descent into the airport, their fears put aside, if not forgotten. Relief was obvious as the wheels touched down to the accompaniment of applause and the door opening to the brilliant sun acted like a tranquilizer on their shaken nerves.
Deplaning quickly, Brian savored the instant heat, the blinding brightness of the sun on the concrete runway, the salt smell and the hot breeze. He enjoyed the disorientation of being in snow and sub freezing weather and then, within hours, being in the tropics. It had a sort of otherworldly feel about it that he had always liked. This time was no exception and he delighted in seeing Justin’s reactions to the heat and light, the colors and the smells.
God, he even loved palm trees.
They gathered their bags, clearing customs quickly and left the area to be met by a man obviously looking for them. Not the usual driver, he held no sign, but approached them as they walked out of the terminal.
“Mr. Kinney? Mr. Taylor?” His lilt was wonderful, musical.
“Yes?”
“I’m Malcolm, I’ll take you to the guest house if you’ll come with me.”
They loaded the bags into the back of the jeep, climbed in and headed to their lodgings.
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