And Never Brought to Mind
Chapter 3
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Brian pushed open the door to the diner.
He had Briana in his arms. He held the door back as
he let his mother precede him into the diner. He nearly bumped into her as she
stopped just inside the door.
"There's a booth in the back,"
Brian directed her.
"Oh … oh, of course," Joan said
glancing around at all the same sex couples sitting together. She knew she
should have insisted that they go somewhere else.
"Take the back booth," Debbie
said with a smile as she hurried by laden with plates.
"I see you got our reservation,"
Brian called after her. He knew she would have given him the finger if she
didn't have her hands full.
"I can't believe Debbie still works
here," Joan said as she sat down.
"Debbie is the diner, and she
wouldn't know what to do with herself without it," Brian said with a
smile. "Do you want to sit next to Grandma Joan?" Brian asked his
daughter.
Bree looked from her father to her grandmother and back
again. She gave a little frown. She always loved to sit beside her Dada and he
usually wanted her there. He was good at feeding her French fries and bites of
hot dog. But this was different. She looked at Grandma Joan and finally nodded
her head. "'Kay," she grinned.
Joan smiled and accepted the little bundle
from Brian. She had thought Briana would refuse.
After all she hardly knew the little girl and Bree
had only met her for the first time on the weekend. She was pleased that Briana wanted to sit beside her. She placed Briana on the inside where she couldn't get into too much
trouble. Brian smiled his approval.
"What do you want for lunch?"
Joan asked the little girl.
"Hot dog!" Bree
cried.
"She always has that when we come
here. Someday I hope to get her to develop taste buds that
will appreciate something more … refined," Brian snarked
at his mother.
Joan looked at her son. She realized she
knew next to nothing about him and his life. She turned to look at Briana. Instinctively she knew that Brian would do
anything, would provide anything that the little girl wanted. Where had he
learned all these things?
"What can I get you?" Debbie
asked as she sidled up to the booth. "Good to see you again, Joan."
"I'll have the usual, and a
cheeseburger and fries for Justin. The usual for Bree too. Right, Squirt?"
Bree looked up and repeated
carefully, "Usual."
Debbie wrote each order. "You've been
training her to do that, haven't you?" Debbie laughed.
"Don't have to," Brian smirked.
"She's a smart little cookie. Knows what she wants, and how to get
it."
"Cookie," Bree
repeated hoping that meant she was getting one of those too.
Debbie chuckled. "And what will you
have, Joan?"
"A grilled cheese sandwich,
please."
"Got it," Debbie said. "And
drinks?"
"Coffee and a glass of milk,"
Brian said. Joan nodded.
Debbie moved away to put their order in
and get their drinks.
"What made you come to see me today,
Mother?" Brian asked.
"I told you."
"You've never asked me to take you to
lunch before."
"I might have even treated you, but
you didn't give me the chance," Joan said with a little smirk that matched
Brian's.
Brian looked up and then realized that his
mother was making a joke. His mouth dropped open, before he could stop it. Once
he recovered, he coughed and then chuckled. "Good one, Mom."
Joan looked at her son. He had called her
Mom, without a sarcastic tone to his voice and without using his usual formal
term of Mother. Were they making progress? "I wanted to thank you for
asking me to Briana's baptism. You didn't have to do
that. And … and I really did appreciate it."
"I'm glad you came."
A young man took that moment to walk past
their booth. He managed to jostle Brian's shoulder as he went by. Brian looked
up and smirked at the man. Then he shook his head. The man shrugged and
mouthed, "Another time."
"What was that all about?" Joan
demanded. She had watched the unseemly display and couldn't understand why her
son didn't set the man straight.
"He didn't mean anything. It was
harmless."
"I would hardly call that harmless.
And you're waiting for your husband. How dare he?"
"Give it a rest, Mother."
"I will never understand this crazed
attitude about S E X," she said spelling out the last word. "How can
you be so promiscuous?"
"S E X," Briana
spelled just the way Joan had done. She had no idea what it meant but she liked
learning new things.
Joan and Brian both looked at her and
shook their heads, frowning at her.
"I'm not promiscuous," Brian
snapped at his mother. "You don't know anything about me." He could
feel his anger rising. Why did she always have to do this to him?
"S E X," Bree
singsonged.
"Hey," a voice said from behind
him.
Brian turned to tell the trick to fuck
off, when he realized it was Justin. He stood up and kissed Justin whispering,
"Hey, Sunshine."
"What's wrong?" Justin asked as
he held Brian in a brief hug.
"Nothing, now that you're here,"
Brian said letting Justin slide into the booth first. He might need to make a quick
getaway and he didn't want to be trapped on the inside.
"S E X," Bree
piped up.
"I see you've been instructing our
daughter in the fine art of spelling."
"She doesn't know what she's
saying," Joan said quickly. She realized she was responsible for what Bree was saying.
Debbie brought their meals and set them
out in front of them. Brian glared at his mother.
"S E X," Bree
repeated with a little giggle.
Debbie looked at her with a strange
expression on her face. "What the fuck are you people teaching her?"
Debbie demanded.
Joan winced at Debbie's choice of words.
She hoped Bree didn't start saying that word too.
"Stuff some hot dog in her mouth,
Joan," Justin said with a laugh.
Joan stared at him and then realized what
he was doing.
"S E X," Bree
said once more before Joan held a piece of hot dog at her mouth. Bree opened her mouth, gulped the
food and then chewed happily.
"You are so smart," Brian said
giving his husband a kiss on the cheek.
Justin grinned. "I think I'll come
back to Kinnetik with you. I want to see what happens
when she starts spelling at her daycare."
Joan and Brian laughed at Justin's antics.
"Oh my," Joan said. "That could be a problem."
"Not my problem," Brian said
with a grin.
"You are so bad, Kinney," Debbie
said giving Brian a gentle cuff to the ear.
"Hey, I had nothing to do with
that."
"Sure, blame your mother," Joan
said making them all laugh.
Debbie walked away. Who knew Joan Kinney
had a sense of humor?
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That evening Brian and Justin walked into
their kitchen to find Bobby and John and Patrick making dinner.
"How come you're cooking in
here?" Brian asked setting Bree down so she
could go play with her cousin.
"I forgot to do groceries,"
Bobby admitted. "I took Patrick to school and I … everything else went out
of my head for the rest of the day. I've never done anything so hard."
"Hard?" Justin asked. "Did
Patrick cry?"
"Hell, no! He was a brave little trooper. He sized up the joint
and then told me to go home."
"So, he liked school?" Justin
asked.
"He loved it. That's all he talked
about all the way home. He loved the stories the teacher read and the drawing
he did. That's it there on the counter. Isn't it beautiful?"
Justin picked up the paper covered in brown,
black and red paint. "I love the red accent. Just what
this composition needed."
"Are you making fun of me?"
Bobby asked.
"Never," Justin said trying not
to laugh.
"You're taking it all a little
seriously, aren't you?" Brian asked.
"Not at all," John said
defending his husband.
"Patrick was totally independent once
he got to his classroom. He … he didn't need me anymore," Bobby said
feeling tears well up.
"No shit!" Brian
snarked. "Glad some member of your family
has balls."
"Hey," Bobby reacted. "Wait
till you have to take Bree to her first day of
school."
"Oh, fuck!" Brian said as the
realization hit him that one day he would have to do that too.
After dinner the family allowed the kids
to play for a while and then they put the children to bed, exclaiming,
"It's a school night!" That left the adult population time to unwind
on the porch. The night was cooling but it was comfortable in the porch. John
was reading his newspaper. Bobby was perusing a law journal as Brian was looking
over the latest Wall Street Journal. Justin was sitting on the settee with the
packet of papers that JP gave him earlier in the day. He hadn't gotten the
chance to speak with Brian about it yet. And Brian was curious to know what had
captured Justin's full attention.
"More Kinney
journal, Sunshine?"
Brian indicated the papers in Justin's hand. Justin froze.
"Um, no." Brian arched an eyebrow waiting for Justin to
explain. "I met with..."
"Before lunch, you were with John
Patrick Taylor," Brian said softly and coldly as he slowly got up from his
lounge chair.
"Brian, he was at the gallery; he
wanted to talk."
"Talk," Brian mumbled as he
stared at Justin then walked toward their bedroom and through the connecting
glass door. Brian opened his closet door and stood staring at his clothes. His
leather jacket at the far end of the closet caught his eye. Brian took out his
old jacket. It was the one he wore for years when he was on the prowl for a new
trick. He pulled the jacket on. It fit like a second skin. Brian inhaled the
scent of old leather, cigarettes and whiskey. He went back through the doors
into the porch. Justin could sense Brian's anger. He held his breath as Brian
went out into the night.
Brian stood outside the main door to the
porch and began to zipper up the jacket. Feeling something in the inside
pocket, Brian pulled out an old pack of cigarettes and lit one up. They all
watched as Brian stood on the path looking toward the lane and his car. Brian
turned and walked toward the stream. He didn't need any light; Brian knew the
path by heart. Justin, John and Bobby watched Brian disappear into the night.
"That went well," Bobby said
absentmindedly.
"At least he didn't shout," John
noted.
"That's the problem," Justin
replied solemnly.
"What do you mean?" Bobby wanted
to offer Justin comfort but wasn't sure what was going on.
"Justin, could you perhaps start from
the beginning?" John asked.
"I went to the gallery and John
Patrick was there. By the way, he likes to be called JP. He introduced himself
and wanted to talk. We went to Starbucks for a coffee and he gave me these
papers. It seems that his father and grandfather were tracing their family
tree. They wanted to know why there were a lot of fair haired, blue eyed
children in the family. And where did the Anglo name of
"That's not so farfetched. Look at
all the research you've done into Kinney and Patrick," John stated
logically. "But back to Brian, why is the fact that he's not shouting
cause for concern?"
"Because a shouting Brian means he'll
get over it. He'll rant, have a queenie moment and
then it's gone. Over. He's over it. A quiet Brian is a
hurting Brian. That jacket, the cigarettes, if we were in
"No, I don't believe that. He's
changed and he didn't drive off. He went to the stream. He's probably sitting
on the big rock waiting for you," John said to Justin, almost pleading for
Justin to believe.
"I hurt him, John. I should have told
him right away. I meant to but things got in the way."
"Yes, lunch with
Joan and us going on about Patrick. We didn't give you a chance. But I still don't understand Brian's
reaction. Justin, you're a grown man, you can handle this."
"That's the problem, I am a grown
man." Justin sat down and pondered his next move.
Out by the stream, Brian was leaning
against the great rock. He had two more stale cigarettes left and in spite of
the coughing, he was determined to smoke them both. Brian could not for the
life of him figure out why he was so angry. It was times like these that he
wished he was back at the loft. It would have been so easy to go to Woody's or
"FUCK!" Brian cried out as he
threw the pack on the ground, crushing them under his boot. "Fucking
little shit!" In the dim light, Brian picked up a few stones and tossed
them into the stream. He got one to skip five times.
"Two babies," Brian mumbled, a stray tear slipped down his face. "Shit, since when
am I a fucking lesbian?"
"Brian?" Justin was standing at
the entrance to the glade. He was wearing one of his old warm comfortable hoodies. The moonlight filtered down through the trees
surrounding Justin with a warm glow. He looked like that seventeen year old boy
boldly standing under the street lamp daring Brian to pick him up. "Brian,
I should have told you immediately when we got home but I don't regret meeting
him and I don't need your..."
"You're right, Justin. You don't need
a damn thing from me. You are a grown man; you're quite capable of taking care
of yourself. I just got used to being the one who took care of things. No,
Sunshine, you don't need me at all."
"Brian, I do need you. I need you to
take care of all those details that I have no head for. I need you to keep
everything in order for me so I don't have to. I need you to take care of me
and Bree. I need you to protect me, to love me, to
hold me when the bad dream comes back. I need to know that wherever I am,
whoever I'm with, there'll never be anyone as good as you. I need you to fuck
me, to rim me, to suck my dick. I need you to make love to me. I just need
you."
Brian stood motionless, listening to
Justin. Justin prayed he got through to his stubborn husband. Brian raised his
arms, Justin immediately went into them.
"I love you, you know."
"I know."
The lovers walked back to the house
surrounded by moonlight and by their love.
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Patrick came bouncing into the kitchen
where Justin, Brian and Bree were just finishing up
breakfast. He had his backpack firmly strapped on and he looked ready to take
on the world.
"Hey there, buddy," Justin said.
"Ready for school?"
"Yep," Patrick said decisively.
"Me too," Bree
said bouncing in her high chair.
"How about your
dads?" Brian chuckled
knowing what a hard time they were both having with the concept of their son
growing up.
Patrick frowned. "Dad's doing okay,
but Daddy is … acting weird."
Brian knew Daddy Bobby was experiencing
separation anxiety, but he was surprised that Patrick was perceptive enough to
realize that. "How is your daddy acting weird?"
"Don't tell anybody but he cried at
school yesterday. He has tears in his eyes every time he looks at me," Patrick
explained. "I don't want him to be sad."
"He's not really sad, Patrick,"
Justin said gently. "He just misses having you with him most of the
time."
"Oh?" Patrick said thinking
about what Justin had told him.
"So you like school?" Justin
asked deciding to change the topic a little.
"It was great! I got to draw and
color and play with a soccer ball."
"Me too, me too," Bree called. She wanted some attention and she didn't see
why she couldn't go with Patrick. They did everything else together.
"Easy, Squirt," Brian said.
"Your turn will come."
"Now!" Bree demanded.
"You're too little," Patrick
stated knowingly. "When you grow up like me, then you can come to
school."
Bobby and John walked into the kitchen
just as Patrick made his statement. Brian watched tears well up in their eyes.
"I could take Patrick to school
today, if it would make things easier," Brian suggested.
"I'm fine," Bobby said doing his
best to suck it up.
Brian shrugged and Bree called out, "Chool, Chool."
"That's school, Squirt," Brian
corrected her.
"Looks like you may have something of
your own to deal with," John said trying hard not to smirk. "You guys
better get going, and so had I." He gave each of the men in his life a
kiss on the cheek and headed out the door.
"Have you got everything?" Bobby
asked Patrick. Patrick nodded. "Then let's go."
They started walking back to the sun porch
to go through and get their vehicle.
"No, no, Patwick,"
Bree cried. Big tears started to run down her cheeks.
Patrick looked at Bree
and came back over to comfort her while she was still trapped in her high
chair. He stood on tiptoes to give her a kiss on the cheek. He held her little
hand. "I'll be back later today. Don't cry, Bree.
Don't cry like Daddy."
Brian did his best to stifle his chuckle
but a little one escaped. Bobby looked daggers at him.
"Come on, Patrick, we have to
go," Bobby told his son. "You don't want to be late for school."
Patrick ran over to his father with a
bright smile. "I'm ready," he said confidently.
Bree watched her cousin disappear into the sun porch and
then the real wailing began. Brian did his best to soothe his daughter. He
lifted her out of her chair and walked around the kitchen with her. He tried
everything, but she continued to wail non-stop for the next few minutes. Her
face was red and huge tears made tracks down her cheeks.
"Patwick,"
she called mournfully like she had been abandoned to the worst fate imaginable.
"Come on, Squirt. It'll be all
right," Brian cooed at her. "You're staying here with me today."
Bree wailed louder.
Brian bounced her and swung her around
trying to distract her. Nothing did much good as Bree
continued to cry.
"Do you want me to take her?"
Justin asked not able to stand the sound of his daughter's pain any longer.
"You're due at the gallery. You
better get going," Brian said holding Bree
against his chest. Her breaths were coming in great heaving sobs.
"Chool, Patwick," she whimpered.
"I know, Squirt," Brian
whispered into her neck. "Get going," he said to Justin. "We'll
be fine."
Bree let out another wail as Justin went out the door. He
felt guilty about leaving Brian with a crying Bree,
but he did need to get to the gallery, and surely she couldn't cry too much
longer.
"What if we go plant those mums that
are in the garage," Brian said to his daughter.
Tear-filled eyes studied his face and the
crying stopped. "Gar-gar?" she asked with a big gulp.
"Gar-gar," Brian repeated.
"'Kay," she said.
Brian breathed a sigh of relief and
grabbed a tissue to wipe her tear stained face.
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Brought To Mind