Time Away

Part 4

Note: I have no idea what the laws in Jamaica concerning the events in this chapter (and the rest of the story) are. I’m making them up as I go along. If anyone knows the real deal, by all means let me know, but for the purposes of this little trip to Fantasy Island—just go with the flow.  By the way, the restaurant I mention in this chapter really does exist, though on Sint Martin, not Jamaica. It’s amazing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the wedding the next day, Justin wanted to know and oversee virtually every detail until Stuart finally pulled Brian aside and said that if he didn’t sit on the lad, he’s be forced to kill him, that Vince would back him up and they would be exonerated by cause of justifiable homicide.

He had become upset with the menu, the choice of flowers, the clothing he had brought, the music, the minister, the locale chosen, the temperature, the relative humidity (claiming that his hair would frizz), the shade of the sand and the vows Brian had tentatively approved.

The only things he found no fault with were the rings and the groom.

These were perfection.

The rings were simple wide yellow gold bands with a narrow inlaid circle of platinum running around the middle. Justin loved them, the graphic purity of them and the classic statement they made. The fact that Brian would wear a wedding ring moved him more than he would have thought possible. Brian had stated, loudly and repeatedly, that marriage was for breeders and lezzies and he was neither. That he would willingly wear a symbol of that sort of commitment meant as much to Justin as the rings themselves, if not more.

And when he looked at Brian his expression would soften and the complaints about the details would stop and he would quiet as soon as Brian put his arms around him and told him not to worry, that the next day would be fine.

After several hassled hours, he reluctantly agreed to join Brian in another hour or two of snorkeling on a reef that one of the local dive shops arranged a short boat trip to. Stuart had packed a picnic lunch to be eaten on a quiet beach and Justin agreed, as much as he could, to just try to calm down.

It didn’t happen completely, of course, but after the local ganja the boat driver had provided and the heat and sun and water, Justin was much more willing to put things in some perspective.

They were relaxing on the beach after snorkeling and food, the boat promising to return in a few hours for them. Brian breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that the boy was less hyper than he had been all morning.

They were stretched out on a blanket that had been spread on the sand under a palm—despite the warning to watch for falling coconuts—and let Justin use him as a pillow as they let the lunch start to digest.

Brian was starting to fall asleep when Justin started quietly speaking.

“What would you have done if I said that I didn’t think getting married was a good idea?”

“We would have had a nice vacation and that would have been it.”

“You mean you would have broken up with me if I’d said no?”

“…Well, it would have depended on how you said it. If you thought that it just wasn’t the right time or something that’s a lot different than telling me to fuck myself.”

Justin raised himself up enough to look at Brian. “Well, what made you think it was the right time?”

“Jesus, what are you going into all this shit? I asked you and you said yes, isn’t that fucking enough?”

“Brian, asshole, I’m serious. What made you start thinking about all this?”

“Justin…what difference does it make?”

He poked Brian’s ribs gently. “Tell me.” At first Justin thought that he’d get some snarky, snotty bullshit answer but Brian seemed to actually consider what he was saying.

“It’s been three years, a little more, and we’ve been through a lot of shit. When you left me I realized that there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to hang around, the loft seemed too big for the first time and I made excuses to not be home.” He rolled his lips, like he always did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. “When something would happen I’d think that I wanted to tell you or call you or something—that I have to tell Justin—and then I’d remember that I couldn’t.”

“Brian…”

“And then I started to realize that you still had feelings for me, even though we weren’t together and I started to think that maybe there was still some kind of a chance but that first you had to go through your thing with Ethan”

Justin noticed that it was the first time he had ever heard Brian call him by the correct name and without sarcasm.

“After I met him a couple of times, I didn’t think that would last, but then after you left him and then turned up at Vanguard I knew that I wanted you back and that I didn’t want you to leave. I know, I always said that I’d never do that kind of thing, that it was just for lez’s and straights, but after a while I started to understand why people want to make that kind of admission.”

“Admission?”

“Yeah, that you love someone and you’re proud of it and you want everyone you know—and even fucking strangers—to know that you’re proud of it and you want the whole goddamned world to know, that you want to shout it from the frigging rooftops.”

“Really?” Justin was dripping again.

“Yeah, really, and most of all you want the other person to know that they’re as important to you as anything in your life.”

“Jesus, Brian. I knew that you love me, but I didn’t think you’d ever come right out and tell me.”

Brian put his hand on the back of Justin’s head, pulling him closer and rubbing his fingers through his hair, a little stiff with dried seawater. “Yeah, you did. You just didn’t know when.”

They kissed, tasting the salt from the water they had been in a little while ago and the wine and the weed and the cheese and crackers that had been their lunch. They tasted the dried salt on one another’s bodies and joked about sand getting in the wrong places at the wrong time—but it didn’t.

They made love, Brian entering Justin raw but withdrawing before he came and spilling in the sand. Justin aimed, as much as he could, his spend the same place Brian’s had landed, wanting to see the mingling. Brian watching him as he shot, watching him as he saw the white liquid mixing and sinking into the white sand.

Still holding one another loosely, he asked, “Bri…are you still going to trick after tomorrow?”

“You don’t want me to, do you?”

“I won’t tell you what to do.”

“But I know you don’t like it.”

“What’s the point of being married if you’re going to fuck around?”

“You know they don’t mean anything.”

“I know, so why do it?”

“Justin…it’s—I’ve done it so long that it’s just a game. You know that.”

“I know. It’s like you said the first time we talked about us—you know, when you said that when you came home I would know that you were doing what you wanted by coming home to me. I know that.”

“I’ll stop, if you want.”

“That’s bullshit. Then you’ll resent it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“I wish that we could do it raw and we never can if you’re tricking.”

Brian out his hand on Justin’s face, looking at him for a moment, “I’ll try. We’ll get testes in a few months and if we’re both clear, then we can.”

“And I know it’s at two way street. I won’t fuck anyone else, either.”

“Justin—it’s not that big deal, not to me. If you want to, go ahead.”

“I want you, Damnit. You said it yourself, the others don’t matter and if they don’t matter then it shouldn’t be hard to stop. You know, I know that we have each other.”

They kissed, but they both wondered if this would be like New Year’s resolutions…made one day and forgotten a week later.

They spent the rest of the time alone on the quiet beach talking of nothing of consequence, avoiding anything of substance and pushing any clouds to the horizon where they could cause no trouble.

Later, after the boat had picked them up and they were getting changed to make their dinner reservation at some place Stuart had recommended, Brian brought it up again.

“This is important to you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“…I’m not sure that I can.”

“I don’t know if I can accept that. If we get married, that would have to be part of it.”

Nodding, Brian took his hand, leading him out to drive to the restaurant they had been told was the most romantic on the island.

They had trouble finding the place; following the directions that they had been given seemed to lead them to a dead-end alley between two buildings. Parking the car anyway and getting out to look around they found a semi hidden wooden flight of doublewide steps with a menu posted at the bottom and subdued lighting showing the way.

Climbing up two stories, they was astounded to find that there was, indeed, a restaurant at the top, placed on a large platform held up by several dozen palm trees. It was the largest tree house either one had ever imagined, the palm fronds forming the ceiling for the open air dining. There was a railing around the edge and the lights of the boats of the harbor reflecting on the water were spread put before them in the small bay the platform overlooked. They could hear the gentle lapping of the water below them.

It was magical.

They were given a table for two by the railing, affording the best view and ordered the fresh dolphin, the catch of the day. It was cooked to perfection. The breeze was warm, the wine was chilled and it was, indeed, the most romantic restaurant either had ever been to.

Brian took Justin’s hand.

“Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll stop tricking.”

“Brian?”

“I won’t promise that I’ll never screw up, but I’ll try. And you have to know that they mean nothing to me. You know that.”

“I do know that. If they don’t mean anything, you don’t need them.”

Brian seemed to think about what Justin meant, wanting to understand—“If I screw up, you’ll leave?”

“”Look, Brian, I don’t know. I know that I’ll be hurt. If you love me enough to marry me, you should love me enough to not want not hurt me.”

Unspoken was the reverse, that if Justin loved him, he would accept Brian as he was. Brian chose not to bring that up, to ignore it and hope that it wouldn’t become a problem later. He knew that Justin would have trouble forgiving him about this if he should find out that Brian was unfaithful. He would walk the straight path, as it were. He would. The pain of losing Justin the last time had been too much to bear again. This was a small price to pay.

He leaned across the table; taking the hand Justin had left lying on the table and kissed him.

“So we’re on for tomorrow at ten?”

“Be there or be square.”

Return to Time Away