Poster Boy

    **************************************

 

“Oh fuck!”  Brian rolled off the couch and onto the rug.  It was about 5 am by the clock on the computer desk, and he was stiff from sleeping on a couch whose length was somewhat shorter than his own.  He had, however, slept rather well, all things considered, more sleep than he had had since that night at Babylon.

 

He had awoken a couple of times and replayed that song on the stereo.  Somehow it gave him comfort that someone else could put into words what he was feeling but couldn’t express.  He felt less alone, knowing that the composer of “You Are My Sunshine” must have experienced the same things he was going through

 

Another day of work lay ahead, but he had lost some of the dread that he had felt the first day or two.  He knew that each day would be a little easier than the previous one.  He would reclaim his life, day by day and hour by hour.

 

He got up, showered and decided to check his messages.  There was one from Michael wanting to know why he hadn’t come to Woody’s, one from Lindsay asking him to call her and let her know that he was all right, and one from Justin saying he wanted to pick up his belongings when Brian wouldn’t be there.

 

Brian listened to the one from Justin with a strange detachment.  He had known this would happen and last night had prepared him on some level.  The rage that he had felt boiling through his body after Justin left with fiddle boy had forged a band of steel around his heart.  The song had cooled it into a sleek and impermeable metal that he was sure nothing could breach.  No one would hurt him like that again.

 

He thought maybe he would go to the diner for breakfast.  Mikey would probably be there, Ted and Emmett, and maybe even Justin.  He wasn’t quite sure that he was ready for that one.

 

“I can face them all,” he said to himself.  “I’ll prove that I can survive anything and come out better than ever.  Fuck ‘em all!”

 

He dressed carefully, wanting to appear perfect, the old Kinney veneer rising to the surface.

 

  **************************************

 

When he opened the diner door, he took a deep breath and looked around.  Michael, Ted and Emmett were in their usual booth.  No sign of Justin.

 

“Howdy boys,” Brian said, as he slid into the booth beside Michael.

 

“Look who’s back,” Ted smirked.  “We thought you had abandoned us.”

 

“Ted, I’d never do that to those less fortunate than myself.”

 

“I see nothing’s changed.  You’re as supercilious as ever.”

 

“My, my, you must have been reading your Thesaurus.  Such big words!”

 

“Will you two knock it off,” Michael interrupted.

 

Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek and rolled his eyes.  Debbie walked over to the table.  She gave Brian a cursory glance, but said nothing directly to him.  For that he was grateful.

 

“What’ll it be, boys?”

 

“Just coffee for me, Deb,” Brian stated.

 

“Still watching your figure?” she asked.

 

“Ha,” Brian snorted.  “If I don’t, nobody else will.”

 

“Especially now that he’s back on the market,” Emmett added.

 

Brian gave him a look, but said nothing.

 

“Eggs over easy, bacon and toast,” Michael ordered.

 

“Make it two,” said Ted.

 

“Three,” Emmett added.

 

“Right.  You sure you don’t want something to eat?” Debbie asked Brian.

 

“Just coffee,” he repeated.  “I have to get to the office.”

 

Deb poured coffee for each of them.

 

“Hey guys,“ Michael started, “I have three framed posters of “Rage” from the bash at Babylon.”

 

Ted and Emmett glanced at Michael and then at Brian.

 

Ted said, “Soooo?” drawing it out for several syllables.

 

“I thought I’d put one in the store, one in the apartment, and maybe one of you would like the other one.”

 

“I live with you,” said Emmett.  “It’s my apartment too.”

 

“I’m not really into comics,” Ted said.

 

“I’ll take it,” Brian stated flatly.

 

All mouths dropped, as they each stared at Brian in disbelief.

 

“We all know that I am “Rage” and I happen to have a use for the poster.”

 

“What use?” Ted wanted to know.

 

“One day you’ll see,” said Brian enigmatically.  “I have to get to the office.”  Brian started to get up.

 

“Want to take the poster with you?  They’re right over here,” Michael said, reaching behind the counter.

 

“Great.”  Brian scooped up the poster.  “See you at Babylon tonight,” and he was gone.

 

“What was that?” he heard Emmett ask, as the diner door closed behind him.

 

He had pulled it off.  He was back, for all intents and purposes.  Not one of them had had the nerve to ask how he was or to mention Justin.  He could play them as he always had.  They would never know that anything was wrong, and if he could pretend long enough and hard enough, nothing would be wrong.  He could resume his old life.  “The Iceman Cometh,” he thought.  “Hell, the Iceman is here.”

 

**************************************

 

He put the poster in the Jeep and climbed in.  He needed “Rage” to remind him of what had happened, so that he would never let it happen again.  He had given in to love and feelings, and now he was suffering the consequences.  “Rage” would never let him forget, never let him slip into that trap again.

 

Brian carried “Rage” into the office.  He stopped at Cynthia’s desk.

 

“Do you have something to hang this?” Brian asked, showing her the poster.  “This is Michael and Justin’s comic superhero.”

 

“Wow,” Cynthia reacted.  “I’ll be right in with what you need.”

 

Brian continued on to his office.  He knew where he wanted to hang “Rage”, right over the dent in the wall from “You Are My Sunshine”.  Sweet irony!

 

Cynthia brought in a picture hanger and a hammer.  Brian held “Rage” right where he wanted it, right over the dent, and Cynthia marked the spot where the nail should go.

 

“I was going to ask you about getting a repairman to fix the hole,” said Cynthia.

 

“Not necessary anymore,” Brian observed.

 

“You just want to leave it under the poster?” she asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Interesting looking character.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“Kind of reminds me of someone.”

 

“Oh, who?”

 

“You.”

 

“Very observant.”

 

“You mean it is you?”

 

“Not really me, but based on me.”

 

“Are you kidding?”

 

Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek and smirked.

 

“You’re serious.”  Cynthia looked at “Rage” more closely.  “I’ll be damned.”

 

“I hope not.”

 

Cynthia chuckled.  “I better get back to my desk.  Need anything?”

 

“Not at the moment.  Bring in the day’s agenda in about ten minutes.”

 

She nodded and left, with one more glance at “Rage”.

 

Brian sat down behind his desk.  From the far wall “Rage” stared back at him.  Rage may have left his body, but its incarnation would be there all day, every day, looking accusingly at him, making him remember.                                                    

 

And he did not want to forget.  He wanted the raw memory to be constantly there, keeping him focused, making him strong.  He had survived many things in his life, and this too could be overcome.

 

**************************************

 

Brian had one more job to do before he could get down to work.  He picked up the phone and dialed a number. 

 

Two rings and a voice said, “Hello.”

 

Brian’s pulse quickened.  He had been hoping to leave a message.  He replied, “Justin, you left a message about picking up your things.  I’m at work all day today and tomorrow, so get your stuff whenever you want.”

 

“Thanks, I will.  But, Brian, I . . . I want to say I’m sorry.”

 

“You know what I think of ‘sorry’.”

 

“Could we talk, later, after I get situated?”

 

“I don’t think there’s anything to say.”

 

“Of course there is.”

 

“Communication was our biggest problem.  What good will it do to try and talk now?”

 

“I owe you a lot, and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

 

Brian grimaced and pain welled up from the pit of his stomach.

 

“I need to talk to you about my tuition and all the rest that I owe you,” Justin continued.

 

“We have a written agreement that still carries on, so all you owe me is repayment after you graduate and make your fortune...”

 

“You know there’s a lot more to it than that.”

 

“There doesn’t need to be.  Pick up your belongings today or tomorrow and leave the key in the mailbox.  Don’t forget to set the alarm when you leave.”

 

“Like I’d ever forget that again,” Justin said wryly.

 

“Then it’s settled and finished.”

 

“But, Brian ...”

 

“Goodbye, Justin,” and Brian hung up.

 

He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t in agony, he wasn’t a blithering idiot.  He had talked to Justin and the world hadn’t stopped spinning on its axis.  What had he expected?  Anticipation had been much worse than the actuality. 

 

However, a new realization was beginning to form in his mind - the realization of a long, empty future ahead of him.