Glass Houses

Chapter 8

“Daddy,” Bree said with a look of determination in her eyes as she handed her younger father the exercise ball. Brian knew that look all too well; tenacity and stubbornness were a Taylor trait.

The family of the conjoined cottages had barely finished breakfast when Bree, the new therapy assistant, ran into her room for the therapeutic ball Gerald McQueen, RPT had given her. Patrick pulled a pad out of his back pocket ready to record his uncle’s progress.

“Begin, Daddy,” Bree commanded. John and Bobby hid themselves in the kitchen trying not to snicker in front of Justin as they took care of the breakfast dishes.

Brian read his morning paper as Justin performed his exercises. His eyes flickered from the page to just above it, watching Justin’s expression as he squeezed and then eased up the pressure on the ball. With his daughter’s eyes watching so intensely, Justin was determined to do all the reps. Bree counted each one.

“Very good, Daddy!” Bree pronounced when Justin finished the set. Patrick diligently recorded the session then nodded with approval. Justin handed the ball back to Bree. “We’ll be back later, Daddy,” Bree said as she and Patrick scurried out of the kitchen and off to spend their first full day of summer vacation outside.

Justin looked defeated as he walked away. “Excuse me,” he said then went to the master bedroom. Brian put down the paper.

“Brian?” John said, somewhat confused. “He did well.”

“What just happened?” Bobby asked, equally confused.

John and Bobby came around the counter to sit at the table with Brian.

“Pop, what’s wrong with Justin? He just went back to bed,” Gus said as he came into the kitchen, hard hat and camera equipment in hand. He was waiting for John.

“He’s remembering,” was all that Brian said as he stood. Shoving his crutches under his arms, Brian went to his room.

“Remembering what?” Gus asked his uncles.

“I’m not sure,” Bobby said. John’s eyes opened wide with the realization.

“The attack?” John ventured.

“But that was almost twenty years ago,” Gus said. “I was a baby.”

“From what your father told me, Justin never fully regained his memory of that night and it took him a long time to regain the strength in his hand,” John explained.

“He still has some problems,” Gus said softly. “I watch him sometimes when he draws. His concentration and attention to detail is amazing. But then sometimes his fingers cramp up. He tries to hide it, make sure my dad didn’t see, but I think Pop knows.”

“I’m sure he does,” Bobby commented. “There isn’t much that Justin can hide from your father. Your dad loves Justin so much,” Bobby said as he gave John a wistful smile. Bobby was so in love with John as John was with Bobby.

“Don’t worry, Gus, your dad will make it all better. He always does,” John reassured his nephew.

Gus nodded. “Um, Uncle Bobby, my dad said it was okay for Ray to stay here this summer when he finishes his classes. Could you use an intern for the summer?” Gus asked hopefully, turning on the Kinney charm and flashing hazel colored puppy dog eyes.

Bobby laughed. Over the years he had seen that same look on several occasions but usually from his own spouse and occasionally from Brian.

“You tell that boyfriend of yours that I will personally send him a plane ticket. He was an excellent intern last year. It would be my pleasure to work with him this summer. But are you sure his fathers can spare him?”

“Yeah, they’re cool with it. And Simon is getting used to the idea of having a lawyer in the family,” Gus said with a grin.

“Well, then you tell me the dates and I’ll book the ticket,” Bobby stated. “You and John ready for today?”

“Yup, all set!” Gus announced.

“I just need my hard hat and I’ll meet you out there. The greenhouse got the approval from the inspector so we’re going to finish it up. Your dad can start moving in his plants whenever he likes,” John said with a touch of pride. His crew did a phenomenal job on the greenhouse. John was ready to join the crew that was working on the ‘B&B’.

“Cool!” In a flash, Gus was out the door.

“Was I ever that young?” John asked.

“Babe, you’re still young,” Bobby said as he wrapped his arms around his spouse.

“Tell that to my grey hairs,” John quipped as he looked down his nose and into the blue-grey eyes of his spouse. Bobby’s hair hadn’t lost any of its fiery redness. “Will you still need me, will you still feed me. When I’m sixty-four?” John broke into the old Beatles song. Bobby laughed and tightened his hug.

“Absolutely! And so much more,” Bobby said as he patted John’s still firm muscular ass. John blushed. The lovers kissed then broke apart.

“I gotta go to work but will you hold that thought until tonight?”

“Sure I will, and I’ll have many other thoughts to go with it,” Bobby purred then reluctantly let his spouse go to work.

 

*****
 

“Hey,” Brian said as he opened their bedroom door and quietly crept in. He leaned his crutches against the bedside table as he got into bed. Justin was lying on top of the duvet, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey.”

“It’s beautiful out, why don’t you take your stuff down to the stream and draw for a while. I bet the kids would love to help you,” Brian suggested hopefully but knowing all along that Justin probably wouldn’t do it.

They both lay silently looking up at the ceiling.

“Do you know what I remember most about that time?” Justin whispered. Brian just shook his head. “That day with you on Liberty Avenue. You stayed with me but you made me stand up for myself and walk by myself, but you never left me. I could see you through the crowd and I knew you loved me.”

Brian remained silent, the adman had no words.

“I made my mother cry.”

“Justin...”

“No, Bri, I made my mother cry. I scared her so badly that she cried and she had to give me away. To you. I was so angry and so frustrated, I busted up my room and scared the shit out of my own mother.”

“This is different,” Brian tried to point out. He watched as Justin raised his right hand, the one damaged in Chris Hobbs’ attack, alternately balling it into a fist then relaxing it.

“The pain feels the same and this time I remember everything. Brian, what if I scare Bree.”

“That won’t happen. You won’t let it come to that.”

“But I...”

“No, Justin, this is so different from when Hobbs hit you. You’re a strong loving father. You would never ever do anything to frighten Bree.”

“I’m not perfect.”

“Nobody is. But I know you, Justin. And I know that the only thing that is going to happen is that you’re going to have therapy and your hand will be fine.” Brian reached to take Justin’s right hand into his. He laced their fingers together as they laid there in silence.

Brian heard Justin sigh. But Brian knew Justin had to work it out for himself. This was something Brian could not fix.

“You ready to face the day and our daughter?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. What are your plans for today?”

“John says the greenhouse is ready for plants. I thought I’d give Todd a call. Maybe he’ll come over with a list of plants.”

“Don’t make him drive all the way over here, go to the center. This way you can pick out the pots and dirt and stuff,” Justin said with the corner of his mouth slightly upturned. The easy chatter between him and Brian was relaxing. Justin was beginning to feel normal again.

“You trying to get rid of me, Sunshine? Entice me with plants, dirt and stuff. Are you planning a clandestine rendezvous with your secret lover?” Brian gently squeezed Justin’s hand.

“No such luck. My lover is no secret but I think I will do some painting by the stream, that is, if my assistants will help me carry my stuff.”

“I’m sure they will. Maybe I can bribe Bobby into being my chauffeur for the morning.”

“It won’t take much to bribe him, he’s a Kinney fan.”

“Yes, but I’m not the right Kinney.”

Justin rolled onto his good side to plant a deep kiss on Brian.

“You’re the right Kinney for me. I love you, Brian. And thank you.”

“For what?” Brian asked as he kissed Justin’s full lips repeatedly.

“For being my Kinney.”

The lovers broke apart before things progressed too far. They both had things to do before playtime.

 

*****
 

“Thank you for playing chauffeur,” Brian said as he adjusted his legs in the front seat of Bobby’s car.

“Any time! I had no plans for today other than taking my man back to bed. And since he has other ideas such as working on that new house of yours, it’ll be fun playing ‘James’ for the day.”

Brian laughed but then became serious. “If it wasn’t my right foot, I’d be able to drive.”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Besides, I think your family would object.” Brian didn’t need Bobby to elaborate. Justin and John would have had a hissy fit if Brian attempted to drive without medical clearance. “It’s a moot point, anyway. So, what are we going to buy at the garden center?”

“We are going to buy plants!” Brian announced with a smug look, making Bobby laugh.

 

*****
 

“Is this good, Daddy?” Bree asked as she set down Justin’s box of paints.

“That’s fine, sweetheart. Do you think you can pull out the legs and set it up?”

“I’ll help,” Patrick volunteered, dropping Justin’s easel on the grass by the stream.

“I can do it,” Bree declared.

“I know, but it’s easier if two of us do it,” Patrick said with a smile. “Then you can help me set up your dad’s easel.”

“’Kay,” Bree agreed as they started pulling out the legs on the box of paints.

Justin smiled on them fondly. He looked around wondering if he really wanted to paint the stream, or just continue with his paintings of flowers from Hawaii. He noticed that the box the children had set up was now on the edge of the shade from the big maple tree, almost in the sun. Brian would have a fit if he painted in the sun. And Justin certainly didn’t want another sunburn.

“Kids, can you carry that over here, deeper in the shade, so that I won’t be back in the sun in half an hour?” he requested.

“Sure,” Patrick said lifting his side of the box. Bree took the other and they carried the paint box into the shade.

“Do you want the canvases now?” Bree asked. Justin had chosen one partially finished canvas with Hawaiian orchids. The other canvas was ready to be painted on, but had not yet been started.

“Yes, please,” Justin replied and watched the children disappear down the path as they went to get the two canvases for him. “You can go with them,” he said to Beau who was looking quizzically at Justin, but also down the path. He seemed unsure who needed him most. Beau took off after the children.

Smiling at the happy little group who would soon return, Justin walked over to sit on the edge of the big rock which was partially in shade. It would be more in the shade as the day progressed. He stared at the stream as the water made little rivulets around the rocks close to the edge. The water level was quite low, there having been little rain this summer.

Justin lifted his left hand and studied it for a minute. He’d have to do his exercises with Bree at least once more during the day. He raised his right hand and studied the fingers as he flexed them. The hand was almost as good as new, but it would never be quite the same as before the bashing. Justin felt a wash of anger rise from the pit of his stomach.

“Fucking Chris Hobbs,” Justin muttered, feeling that the bashing had damaged him in so many ways. He was always finding new ones. He still worried about his reaction to Bree pushing him during the exercises, and he knew she would. He didn’t want this anger he felt to boil over. He would not take it out on his daughter.

“Daddy,” a little voice said. “Daddy!”

“Huh, oh, sorry, sweetheart, I was thinking,” Justin said when he realized that the children were standing in front of him holding his two canvases.

“Where do you want these, Uncle Justin?” Patrick asked.

“Um,” Justin said trying to focus.

“We could lean them against the rock until we set up your easel,” Patrick suggested.

“Yes, yes, that would be good,” Justin agreed quickly. Thank God he had smart children to help him.

Patrick and Bree soon had his easel set up and ready for him to use.

“Which canvas do you want on it?” Patrick asked.

“Um,” Justin said once again. He looked at the partially finished orchid. “The blank one,” he decided quickly.

“Can we go swimming, Daddy?” Bree asked.

“Um…”

“Please, Daddy,” Bree begged batting her violet blue eyes at him. “It’s hot.”

“Okay,” Justin said, having misgivings about what he could do to help the children if anything went wrong. “But you both have to promise me to stay close to the edge of the stream.” Both children nodded in agreement. “And bring the life preserver that’s in the shed when you come back,” he added.

The children looked at him like he was crazy. They both knew how to swim, and he would be there to watch them. Bree was about to say something, but Patrick grabbed her hand and squeezed.

“Okay, Uncle Jus,” he said before Bree could protest. “We’ll get it after we change into out suits.”

“Good,” Justin said. “And make sure you both put on lots of sunscreen.” The children nodded before taking off back down the path closely followed by Beau. Justin hoped nothing untoward would happen while the children were in the water.

“What’s wrong with my Daddy?” Bree asked when they arrived at the sun porch door.

“I don’t know. He seems … weird,” Patrick said.

“Maybe we should call Dada.”

“I think your daddy will be fine, and you want to swim, don’t you?”

Bree looked longingly back to the path. It would feel great to get in the cool water. “Yeah,” she agreed, but she felt funny not doing anything about her father. Maybe he would be better after they got into their swimsuits. The children went inside.

Justin stared at the stream and then at the empty canvas in front of him. He squeezed some cerulean blue out onto the palette that was in the lid of his paint box. He thought maybe he’d paint the stream. He looked at the deep blue color on his palette before dipping his brush into it. He lifted the paint laden brush and studied the blob of color on the end of it. With a vicious swipe he raked the brush across the pristine canvas leaving a wide and jagged blue streak.

A smile raised the corners of his mouth. That felt good. Maybe this was what he needed. Squeezing out some red paint, Justin dabbed his brush in it. He made a wider swath of red, some of it mixing with the blue already on his brush and on the canvas. A vibrant purple leapt from these intersections.

As quickly as he could, Justin squeezed out yellow, the only other primary color he was missing. He made a section of yellow, a deformed sun in one corner of the canvas. Using the yellow to blend with the other two colors already on the canvas, Justin covered the rest of the white surface. He took a step back eyeing what he had done critically. He liked the bold colors and the pent up emotion he saw in front of him. It needed more red, he decided. Red was the color of anger and he wanted that to scream from the canvas.

Strategically he placed two spots of red, not as big as the sun, but equally deformed so as not to be clear what they might be. He wiped his brush and then blended a bit more of the colors on the canvas with a drier brush. He loved the purple he was creating.

Just as he finished his blending, Bree and Patrick arrived. They skidded to a stop beside Justin.

“I found the life preserver,” Patrick said proudly holding it out to his uncle.

“Put it on the side of the stream, and don’t go out too far,” Justin cautioned.

“’Kay, Daddy,” Bree said cheerfully.

Beau followed the children to the edge of the stream where they dropped the life preserver and kicked off their sandals. They each stuck a toe in the water.

“Cold,” Bree said with a frown.

“But it will feel good,” Patrick replied.

“Once we get wet.”

“Yeah.”

The children dunked their feet a little further into the slow running water. It felt cold but nice on their feet. They stepped down into the water that came up to their knees as they stood near the bank.

“Don’t go too far out,” Justin reminded them as he watched them edge farther into the water.

Finally Patrick ducked down and got completely wet. He came up out of the water splashing Bree mercilessly as she squealed and shrieked in protest.

Justin watched them – their innocence and playfulness. He thought of Chris Hobbs and the piece of his life that he had never got to live in the manner he was supposed to. He hated Chris Hobbs, always would, couldn’t help himself. But that was only right. No matter how many times he tried to forgive and forget he had never really been able to do that. Maybe he never would be able. Chris Hobbs deserved his hatred.

Justin looked away from the children to the canvas that he had covered with his anger and frustration. He liked the colors and the boldness of it. He knew it was good, but suddenly he knew that it needed one more thing.

Justin opened another tube of paint. He squeezed some out on the palette and took one of his smaller brushes, loading it with the new color.

Beau barked and interrupted him. Justin looked up to see the children holding onto the life preserver and drifting down the stream.

“Stay close,” Justin called out to them.

They looked back at him and kicked their feet to get them closer to the bank. They waved happily as they worked their way back upstream against the gentle current.

Justin felt a waft of love flow through him. He had such a wonderful daughter, and he had Brian and Gus and so many people in his life. Chris Hobbs could go to hell.

Justin took his brush and started working on the final piece of his canvas.

It took him quite a while to get it just the way he wanted it. The swirls were important and he wanted them to have life and movement. He continued to work, looking up only occasionally to make sure the kids didn’t drift away again. They were having a lot of fun in the water.

With a sigh, Justin added the last dab of color. He used the brush he had started with and added more red, but it had a little bit of the blue and yellow still in there. When he was done, he stepped back.

“Perfect,” he whispered. He felt like a load had been lifted from him. He placed his brushes in the solvent can and flexed the fingers of both hands.

He’d leave the painting to start to dry. He walked over to the big rock. It was completely in shade now. Justin slid up onto the rock and leaned back on his good arm. He watched the children as they continued to frolic in the water.

Before long they came out of the water each grabbing a towel that they had brought with them from the house. As they dried off, Justin asked, “Did you have fun?”

“Yep,” Patrick said decisively.

“Me too,” Bree agreed. “Did you have fun painting, Daddy?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

“That’s good,” Bree said as she and Patrick ran over to look at his canvas.

“What do you think of it?” Justin asked when they came back.

“I like the colors,” Patrick said.

“Me too,” Justin agreed.

“I like the angry part going down the drain,” Bree informed him.

Justin blinked in amazement. He thought some people would see anger in the black vortex he had painted sucking down the angry red blob touched with some softening blue and yellow. But a child?

But Bree was their daughter, and she had known art all her life. “I like that part too,” Justin said with an affectionate smile at her. She was something that Chris Hobbs could not touch. He and Brian were the luckiest parents in the world.

“Come sit on the rock with me while you dry off,” Justin said feeling light as air as the children climbed up beside him.
 

Return to Glass Houses