Justin fussed around the apartment.  He was driving Brian crazy.  You would think this was the first time they had ever invited people to the loft for a dinner.  Well, it was, but he needed to calm down.

 

"Justin, come here," Brian said.  He had gotten home from work about an hour ago and had tried to stay out of Justin's way as much as possible.  The boy apparently didn't want his help.

 

"In a minute.  I want to be sure everything's perfect."  He continued to line up the knives with the sides of the plates.

 

"Come here!" Brian said more forcefully.

 

Justin knew that tone of voice.  He gave a last miniscule move to a spoon and walked over to Brian who sat on the couch.

 

"Sit down," Brian ordered.  Justin sat.  "You're going to drive me and our fucking guests insane unless you stop obsessing over every little detail.  Relax."

"I can't.  This is our first dinner party and I want to make a good impression for you … and for myself."

"You'll make a good impression.  Stop worrying.  Maria already thinks you're the next best thing to sliced bread, and Frank will like you too."

Justin looked about ready to cry.  "I … I'm sorry.  I'm being stupid.  But I want this to go well."

"It will if you fucking relax."

 

Brian pulled him close and kissed him gently.  Justin leaned his head on Brian's chest.  For half a second Brian thought he had made some progress with the nervous boy.

 

"Did you set out all the drink stuff?  What if they ask for something we don't have?  Did you open the wine to let it breathe?"

"Shut up," Brian said before he captured Justin's mouth in another kiss.  "I'm going to take you up to the bedroom and plant my dick so far up your ass you won't be able to breathe."

Justin got this look of terror on his face.  "Brian, you can't.  They'll be here any minute."

 

"I can and I will if you don't stop fussing."

A buzzing sound announced that their guests had arrived.  Brian said hello and released the door. 

 

"Do I look all right?" Justin asked smoothing his clothes from where Brian had mussed them.

 

"You look fine.  Take my hand."

Gratefully Justin placed his hand in Brian's and the older man squeezed gently telling him everything would be all right.  Justin smiled as best he could.  Brian pulled back the loft door as the elevator came into view.

 

"Evening, Frank," Brian said extending his hand.

 

"Brian," Frank responded.  "This is my wife Maria.  I don't think you two have been formally introduced."

 

Brian took her hand too and shook it gently.  He was tempted to kiss it but thought that might be a little over the top even for a fag like him.  "Maria, I think I owe you a debt of gratitude.  I hear it was you who convinced this fine gentleman to come to my rescue before the first council meeting."

Justin could see Maria blush.  Brian did have charm to the nth degree when he wanted to lay it on.

 

"I only told him to see that you got a fair chance.  Hello, Justin," she said.

 

Justin beamed at her.  "Hi, Maria, it's good to see you again."

 

"Frank, this is my…Justin as you called him the other day."

 

"You did?" Justin asked.

 

"I wasn't quite sure exactly how to define your relationship, so I said that," Frank replied shaking Justin's hand and giving a little chuckle. 

 

Justin could see why Brian liked this man.  "Funny," Justin said, "you're not the only one who has trouble defining our relationship."  Justin looked at Brian and grinned.

 

"Come on in," Brian said hoping to redirect the conversation to something more to his liking.

 

They stepped inside and Justin closed the door behind them.

 

"Oh my," he heard Maria say.

 

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, afraid that he had done something wrong already or made some kind of unwitting faux pas.

 

"This is a beautiful space," she said looking around, "not at all what I expected."

 

"Thanks," said Justin pleased that she liked the place.  "But most of it is Brian's choice."

"Then he has good taste and you have good taste for choosing him," Maria stated.

 

Justin was somehow gratified by her approval of their lives and living space.  He liked her and her husband and felt they would probably never be critical of him, at least not openly.  But her enthusiastic approval pleased him no end.

 

"Would you care for a drink?" Brian asked them.

 

"Do you make a martini?" Maria asked.

 

"I certainly do," Justin said knowing people had liked his drinks at Michael's party.

 

"Then I'll have one of those."

"How about you, Frank," Brian asked.

 

"A beer would suit me just fine."

"Me too," said Brian and he got two beers out of the fridge.

 

"Brian, would you give me a tour of your loft while Justin makes my martini?" Maria said.

 

"Sure," Brian agreed thinking to himself how many times he had told tricks that there were tours every hour when they had been impressed with his digs.  But they weren't digs anymore and he didn't have to play the big man with tricks.  Justin had changed all that.  This was his home now, their home.  "Let's start with the bedroom."

While Brian ushered Maria up to the bedroom Justin began making the martini.  Frank watched him.  When Justin picked up the vermouth, Frank waggled his finger.

 

"Just pass it over the glass," he warned Justin.  "She really wants straight gin with an olive stuck in it."

Justin grinned at him and did as Frank indicated.  "Maria, your martini is ready," Justin called.

 

"Be there in a minute."

"What are you going to have to drink?" Frank asked Justin.

 

"I think I'll stick to water and have wine with dinner."

 

"Not much of a drinker?"

"I like a drink but to tell you the truth, I'm a little nervous about this dinner party."

"You are?  Why?"

"This is really the first dinner party like this that Brian has asked me to give.  We haven't been together all that long."

"But I read about the bashing in the papers."  He saw Justin wince.  "I'm sorry.  I should watch what I say.  But I thought you and Brian had been together for a couple of years."

"We were together … sort of, but not as a couple back then.  We broke up for awhile and we haven't been back together too long."

"I see.  My daughter has been together with this man for five years … on and off.  They keep breaking up and getting back together.  Drives us all crazy.  Is that how it is with you two?"

 

"Not really.  I was young when we first met and I needed some experience before I committed to this kind of relationship."

"It sounds like there's more of a story there, but maybe another time."

Justin nodded gratefully as Maria and Brian returned.  Maria took a sip of her martini and pronounced it perfect.  Justin smiled at Frank.

 

They moved over to the living room and Justin offered them some salmon mousse as an hors d'oeuvre.  Maria loved it and Frank had several pieces.  They chatted about living in Pittsburgh and how long Frank had been a councilor.  They had a son about the same age as Brian as well as their daughter. 

 

Maria was very interested that Brian had a son.  That always took a little explaining.  Of course she wanted to see some pictures, so they dragged out all the ones they had.  Brian told her that Justin had done some sketches of Gus that were excellent.  She wanted to see those too, but Justin insisted they eat first or his dinner would be ruined.

 

They enjoyed the rest of the evening finding many interests in common.  Considering the age difference they were all surprised that they thought and felt so much alike. Justin shared some of his sketches and basked in the praise from their guests and also from Brian. 

 

A little after ten the Jankowskis took their leave.  They thanked Justin for a wonderful dinner and Brian for inviting them.  He thanked them for their support and they all promised to do this again soon.

 

When Brian slid the door shut he found Justin's arms draped around his neck and one of his legs wrapped around his hips.  The young man kissed him for all he was worth, and with Justin that was saying something.  Finally Justin broke the kiss with a smack.

 

Brian looked at him as Justin continued to cling all over him.  "What was that for?" Brian asked with a smirk.

 

"That was for having faith in me to host this dinner party, and for inviting such nice people."

 

"They are nice, aren't they?" Brian said a touch sadly.

 

"What's wrong?" Justin asked studying his face.  He could tell that something was bothering Brian.

 

Brian shook his head.

 

"Tell me," Justin said.

 

"All right," Brian replied slowly, "but let's clean up while I do."

They went to the kitchen and began loading the dishwasher and clearing the table.

 

"So tell me," Justin finally said, when Brian remained quiet.

 

"I had a chat with Maria when I was showing her the bedroom," Brian began.

 

"I figured you would.  What did she say?"

"She thought I must have a mother who was into interior design, who had trained me to make such stunning choices for my décor, as she put it."

"Oh," said Justin knowing that a comment about Brian learning anything from his mother would normally set him off.  He tried so hard to be totally unlike her or his father.  "What did you say?"

"I guess I wasn't very gracious when I told her my mother had nothing to do with it.  She probed a little further and I told her we didn't get along."

 

"So, what did she say to that?"

"The same thing Louise told me, not to cut her off, keep talking."

"They don't know your mother, Brian.  I know how difficult she makes things for you."

 

"Yeah … but twice in one week women about my mother's age have told me to try to talk to her.  Maybe I should."

 

Justin was surprised.  Brian never cut his mother any slack and he couldn't say that he blamed him about that.  "She did agree to stay out of the election," Justin said trying to put a positive spin on what Brian was saying.

 

Brian stared at him.  Justin could see the wheels turning.  "You know, I can't help but wonder what my life would have been like if my mother was Maria or Louise."

"Very different, I'm sure," Justin said.  "But then you probably wouldn't have me," he added with a little laugh.  "Hell, you probably wouldn't even be gay."

"You think?"

 

"I'm just kidding.  You would have totally different DNA though, so who knows."

"Do you think I should try talking to my mother … again?" Brian asked seriously.

 

"You know me.  I'm a talker."  Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek at that statement, and rolled his eyes.  "I always think you should try to talk things out, but your mother is a hard case.  Would you be prepared for the letdown if she doesn't budge?"

 

"You mean when she tells me I'm going to Hell and to get the fuck out?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure I can ever get used to that."

"Who could?"

"Let's go to bed.  I want to fuck the hostess with the mostest," Brian teased.

 

"You have such impeccable manners.  How could I refuse an invitation like that?"  He snaked his arm around Brian's waist and they made a hasty retreat to the bedroom.

 

                                                              -----

 

Brian stood on the front porch of his mother's house.  He had told Chuck to go get a coffee somewhere and come back in an hour.  He slowly raised his hand and pushed the doorbell button.  After a minute or two he pushed it again.  It was four in the afternoon. He thought she should be home.  What the fuck was he going to do if she wasn't?

 

He had called Chuck to come get him early only partly thinking about visiting his mother.  Now he was stuck here if she wasn't around.  He looked around to see a mostly empty neighborhood.  He could call Chuck back or walk to the nearest cross street and hope for a cab.  As he was about to leave, he heard the lock being turned and the door slowly opened.

 

"Brian?" she said slowly only slurring the word a little bit.

 

"Great!" he thought.  "She's already three sheets to the fucking wind."

 

"Come in," she said stepping back.

 

"Maybe only two sheets to the wind," he thought as he entered.  "This ought to be fun either way."

"What are you doing here?"

 

"You are my mother," he said pointedly.

 

"And you're the mayor, a big shot.  I never expected to have you come here."

"Well, wonder of wonders, here I am."

"Would … would you like a drink?  I … I think I'll have another."

"Mom, can we just sit down and talk for a minute.  I don't want a drink."

"Well I do."  She started towards the kitchen.

 

"Wait … please." 

 

She hesitated and turned to face him.  He almost never said please to her.  "Let's sit in the living room," she said going there instead.  "What can I do for you?" she asked when they were seated.

 

"That's a loaded question," Brian thought.  "Act like a mother, be glad to see me, love me," all ran through his head.  Out loud he said, "I haven't seen you since the election.  I wanted to thank you again for staying out of it."

"I never thought you'd win, you know," she said.  "My friends were pleased for me."

 

"I'm so happy for you," he said sarcastically.  She seemed to miss the sarcasm.  "They do say alcohol dulls your senses," Brian thought.  Her friends were happy for her, but was she happy for him?  She never said so.

"Why did you come here?"

 

"Aren't you happy to see me?  You can tell your friends you had a visit from the mayor."

"Don't be supercilious," she warned.

 

He was about to say something to the effect that he was amazed she could get out such a big word after all she'd had to drink, but he stopped himself.  He hadn't come here to fight.

"I …I'm not sure why I came," he said slowly.  "Sometimes I just want us to get along.  I hate all the fighting."

"What brought about this change of heart?" she asked, her voice full of acrimony.

 

He sighed.  She never gave an inch.  "Mom, I want you to be proud of me," he finally managed to get out.

 

"Since when?  You've never given a fig what I think."

 

"I have, believe it or not."  He could feel his anger rising and did his best to push it down.

 

"Well, I don't believe it.  You never do anything that doesn't benefit you.  You don't care what happens to me, what I might be feeling."

 

Brian took a deep breath, but he knew it was too late.  "Right the fuck back at ya, Mom!  When do you ever think about any fucking thing I might be feeling?  I always thought that was a mother's job, but not in this fucking family!"

 

Brian stood and walked towards the door.

 

"That's right!  Walk out like you always do.  You don't care about your own family, just that blond boy!"

 

"You're right, Mom, but at least he cares back which is more than I can fucking say for you."

"Take your foul mouth and get out!"

 

"Don't worry.  I can't get out of here fast enough.  In fact I'm fucking sorry I ever came."

"Goodbye, darling," she called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind him.

 

"Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!" he cursed as he stomped down the sidewalk to the road.  He looked around hoping that Chuck might have parked down the street somewhere.  No such luck.

 

He pulled out his cell phone and hit Chuck's number.  He told the man to come pick him up immediately at the corner of his mother's street.  Chuck said he would be there in five minutes. 

 

Brian had to get away from this house.  He began walking towards the corner.  He could feel the tears burning his eyes and he fought to keep them back.  Louise and Maria were fucking idiots for making him think he could talk to that bitch.  He should have known better, should never have gone there.

 

Brian felt the cold seep through the soles of his shoes.  He should have boots on to be out walking in the snow and ice.  Who knew?  He hadn't planned for things to go like this.  He had lasted what – five fucking minutes in his mother's presence before they were fighting.  Jesus Christ, he was stupid!  Stupid to think he could reason with her, stupid to think she cared even one tiny particle about him.

 

Tears blurred his vision but he pushed on down the street trying to keep his dress shoes from upending him on the ice.  He cursed himself, his mother, Justin, Louise and Maria.  Nobody knew the depths of his need for a mother, nobody knew how much he wanted to have someone love him and take care of him, and nobody knew how great his hate had just become.  He would never go to that house again.  It was finished.

 

He stomped to the corner looking for the limo.  It wasn't there yet.  Fuck!  This day just got better and better.  He heard a car squeal its tires and suddenly he felt himself rise into the air and then hit something hard.  He felt the air rush from his body, felt excruciating pain, and then blackness. 

 

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