Homework

Chapter 1: Crazy Is As Crazy Does


 

Justin

Morning is less horrible than it might have been and that’s partly thanks to Marty/ Marilyn as well.

One of the things that got delivered yesterday – “on approval” – was something called a ‘stand alone breakfast bar’.

It’s kind of like those island things that people have in their kitchens, except that this one has electricity connections so it goes better against the wall.

It’s counter high, and about three feet long by two feet deep. At the front there are two drawers. The top one’s an insulated cool drawer for storing milk, butter and stuff and the bottom is for storing cereal and that sort of stuff. There’s even a built in bread bin.

One side folds up and out to make a small prep area and the other has racks for plates and cups and bowls.

Across the top of the back there’s a panel fitted with four power points – which takes care of the coffee grinder, the coffee maker, the toaster and the juicer. It even has a single hot plate.

In other words, it’s everything we need for breakfast and it fits really easily into the media room and means that Brian can have a decent cup of coffee every morning.

He’d kept saying we didn’t need to worry about the coffee maker, that he could get something at Starbucks on the way to work but I’ve been dreading dealing with un-caffeinated Kinney first thing in the morning. So this thing is just amazing.

We are definitely keeping it. In fact, I’m thinking that once the kitchen is finished we might even move it upstairs so we don’t have to come down to get breakfast on the weekends. Well, we wouldn’t have to if Gus wasn’t with us.

Or maybe we could put it down near the pool because it would be great to have something so nifty down there as well – especially if we’re entertaining.

Not that I think we’re going to start holding dinner parties or stuff.

But we do have the pool, and people are going to want to come round in the summer and share it. I’m going to want them to.

So …

Anyway, the thing is brilliant and makes getting breakfast with no kitchen much easier than it would have been otherwise.

Of course, Brian thinks we could just go to the diner every morning, but I want Gus to have as normal a start to the day as we can give him, and he’s used to having cereal and toast at home in peace and quiet. I’ve worked the early shift at the diner; I know exactly who’s in at that hour of the day. Half the customers are hustlers coming in for coffee before they head off to wherever it is they sleep for the day and the other half are grumpy queens who have had far too little sleep ‘cos they were partying at Babylon 'til late and have come in for emergency caffeine on their way to work, and to gossip about all the shit that happened from the night before at the tops of their voices.

I so don’t need that in the morning, let alone Gus.

Anyway, we all have a nice peaceful breakfast – even Brian consents to eat an egg white omelette - and brave all the builders’ stuff in the kitchen to wash the dishes, then we head out.

The builders are just arriving when we’re leaving so Brian has a quick word with them. He wants to get more work done, apart from just opening up the kitchen from the front room. We talked about it a little last night … kind of in between rounds. If we’re going to do it, we might as well get it all done in one hit, rather than have to get them back in again later, and if we’re going to have work done around the pool, we might as well get that done now, before summer. Plus, it would be great to have everything done before our housewarming.

He mentioned that last night too. I think it was when I was riding his cock in the Jacuzzi. He kind of grunted that it would be good to get the ‘fucking party shit out of the way’.

Romantic - that he is.

After breakfast, we drop Gus off at school.

We both go in with him and take him to his classroom and stuff, but he seems to settle right in, so we head off and leave him to it.

I’d always thought all the stuff about Moms bursting into tears when they took their kid to school for their first day was totally lame, but I guess I kind of know now how they must feel. Gus looked so small, and...

Well, anyway, after we’d dropped him off, Brian drove me to my studio and I actually got down to some work.

That lasted until around one o’clock when I got a call from Brian saying that Sam, the guy from the Family Court had phoned and wanted us to come right down there if we could.

Brian says he’s on his way to pick me up so I should get cleaned up and meet him out front.

Fuck!

What the Hell could be wrong now?

 

*****
 

Brian

I’m actually considering maybe eating some lunch when the phone call comes through. It’s the sexless straight guy from the family court asking if I’m free for an immediate ‘consultation’.

Fuck!

He won’t tell me what’s going on over the phone, but says that it would be “valuable” if I could get down there some time this afternoon ‘if that’s convenient’.

Well, it’s not fucking convenient. I’ve lost so much fucking time from work to that place. I have a major client presentation tomorrow morning and another on Thursday morning. I need to be fucking prepared and I’ve hardly had time to look at them.

But … fuck!

What choice is there?

I tell him I’ll be right there and then call my fucking attorney. She hasn’t got a clue what it could be about either, and says she’ll meet me at the court house. I’m actually in the car before I remember that if I don’t want to be trying to do the presentation tomorrow with my remaining ball in a sling, I’d better let Sunshine know what’s going on.

I don’t want to think about what it means that as soon as I think about him being there with me, the whole thing becomes less … I don’t know. Less of a big deal. Whatever the fuck.

So I call the little twat and tell him and then tell him I’m on my way to pick him up. In a just universe that should earn me some kind of brownie points but I bet he doesn’t even think about it, because ‘that’s just what partners do, Brian’.

But it’s not just what I do. It doesn’t come naturally to me. I have to stop and think about this stuff.

But at least that means I’m not sitting thinking about all the fucked up things that could have gone wrong now.

I wonder if …

Well, no point in trying to figure it out, I’ll just have to deal with whatever comes along.

We’ll just have to deal.

Because Sunshine is waiting on the steps when I pull up and suddenly the day looks just a little bit brighter. Don’t know why, because he looks seriously pissed.

If either Linds or Mel are planning on pulling any shit they should think again, because their sweet little Justin has just about reached the end of his tether with them, and if it comes to war, I don’t think he’s planning on taking prisoners.

 

*****

Justin

On the short drive to the courthouse Brian tells me as much as he knows, which is pretty much nothing except that Ms. Herschell is going to meet us there.

In fact, we go in and are told to head upstairs to the conference room we’ve used before. As it turns out, Sam and Ms H are waiting for us in the corridor just outside.

They both look kind of serious.

Shit!

We go in and sit down and Sam says, really quiet and serious, “I want you to know, Mr. Kinney, Mr. Taylor, that what I’m about to tell you I do so with the full knowledge and consent of Ms. Peterson and her attorney.”

I feel Brian get even more tense next to me, but before I can even get my hand across to his, Sam goes on, “Ms. Peterson … er … visited the judge this morning. She … well, basically she forced her way into the judge’s chamber insisting that she had evidence that you weren’t looking after Gus properly.”

“That’s bullshit!” Brian just about explodes, and I’m torn between wanting to keep him calm, and wanting to explode myself. This is so fucked.

Ms. Herschell gives Brian a look that shuts him up though, and then says to Sam, “On what basis does Ms. Peterson make these allegations?”

He sighs. “Please, Mr. Kinney, there’s no need to concern yourself about that. It’s the outcome and consequences of Ms. Peterson’s behavior that I need to inform you about.”

When no one looks like arguing, he goes on.

“Ms. Peterson was really quite irrational, but the judge still felt that she had to at least determine if there was any basis to Ms. Peterson’s allegations, so she asked me to sit down with her and try to get to the bottom of them.”

He sighs again.

“It took some time because she really was not at all … coherent but eventually she stated that you and Mr. Taylor had …”

“Could we make it ‘Brian’ and ‘Justin’, please?” I intervene. “Every time you say ‘Mr. Taylor’ it makes me think of my father and I could do without that right now.”

He gives me a funny look, but nods. “Well, Ms. Peterson ... Lindsay … stated that you and Brian had gone out on Saturday evening and left Gus alone.”

Before either Brian or I can say anything, Sam holds up his hand.

“No … we are well aware that it isn’t true. When I pressed Ms. … Lindsay … on how she knew that, she said that she’d seen you leave without Gus. When I asked why, in that case, she hadn’t gone straight to the police and reported it, she finally admitted that she had seen Mrs. Taylor entering the building a little earlier. When asked why she had lied and said that you’d left Gus alone, she said that she didn’t believe that leaving Gus with a stranger was appropriate. I pointed out that Mrs. Taylor is effectively Gus’ grandmother and at that point she … well, she became totally irrational, verging on violent.

“We had to restrain her and call a doctor.”

He takes a deep breath while Brian and I stare at each other, trying to work out what the fuck Linds thought she was doing.

“It appears,” Sam continues, “that for some time Lindsay has been using anti-depressants. In fact, at some time she seems to have obtained prescriptions from several different doctors and since then has been self-medicating to the point of abusing the drugs and creating a certain level of dependency.

“The court physician believes that this, together with the very real emotional strain she has been under as a result of the split with her partner, and her ex’s consequent remarriage, goes a long way to explaining her somewhat erratic and irrational behavior. He provided her with a referral to a clinic which specializes in these sorts of problems.

“The judge offered her the alternatives of seeking help at the clinic or facing contempt of court charges over her behavior today.

“She chose the former option, and, as she doesn’t seem to have any health care, her parents were advised and they were happy to make the necessary financial arrangements. As a result she checked herself into the clinic immediately.”

I can feel, in my gut, the effect this is having on Brian.

Because of course he’s looking for a way to blame himself for this. For not looking after her. For putting more stress on her over the stuff with Gus. For not seeing that she needed help and making her get some. For not being the one paying her medical bills.

Like she’s his responsibility. Like she’s his ‘partner’.

I know she’s his friend. Or he likes to think she is.

But she is not his fucking partner and he has no more responsibility to her than I do to Daphne.

And that’s where I find myself suddenly seeing things really differently.

Just a split second ago I was really angry and … well, I don’t know … jealous or something.

But when I thought about Daph, it occurred to me that, all the Gus stuff aside, if Daph had come this close to crashing and I hadn’t realized it, hadn’t done anything to help her, then Hell yes, I would feel bad about it.

The fact that Linds would love to manipulate the situation to play her own little games doesn’t change the fact that Brian thinks of her as a friend, as a close friend … Wendy to his Peter Pan … and the fact is that we’ve been so focused on Gus that we haven’t even tried to help Lindsay deal with the whole splitting with Mel and being left on her own stuff.

So, okay, I can understand that Brian is going to feel bad about that.

But he still has to accept that he can’t control everything.

Like he said to me once, ‘they made their own pain’.

 

*****
 

Brian

I’m trying not to react to any of this, because fuck knows how any reaction is going to be interpreted by the blond bulldog at my side, especially with the mood he’s in.

But the truth is, this feels like a lump of lead in my gut.

Linds is … Linds was … my friend. Before she was Mel’s anything, she was my friend. Before Justin came along. Before Gus.

And … I feel like I totally lost sight of my friend because all I could see were my partner and my son.

And I know I had to look after Gus, I know that. And I know I had to make Linds understand that Justin is my partner. He fucking deserves that much respect, at least. And anyway, I ... I needed her to know it; to acknowledge it. To accept it. Michael finally has, although it fucking took him long enough. But Linds ... I don't know.

But there must have been some fucking way I could have done that without making her feel any more like shit than she must have done already.

But before I can even begin to think about what comes next, Sam goes on about how this is going to affect the custody arrangements, and are we comfortable about keeping Gus with us for as long as it takes for Linds to get herself sorted out. Justin makes all the right noises about that and I’m kind of tuning all that shit out, when Sam suddenly catches my attention big time.

“I hope you understand, Mist … Brian … if the court hadn’t already been assured both of your ability to look after Gus, and even more of your willingness to do so, then at this point he may well have been taken into care.”

That fucking gets my attention alright.

But before I can respond, he goes on, “It appears that Lindsay first started taking the anti-depressants almost immediately after their move to Toronto.”

That sinks in too. She was taking them all the fucking time she was telling me – on the phone and in emails – about how wonderful things were for them in Toronto.

“She has been abusing them for months and as a consequence she has had trouble sleeping, and has been experiencing severe mood swings.”

He looks right at me then and says, “If she had not returned to Pittsburgh when she did it is highly likely that some kind of breakdown would have occurred in Toronto and at that point the Canadian authorities would have had no choice but to remove Gus from her care. As they had no way of knowing that the papers for his passport had been … let us say, falsified, the only other parent they would have been aware of, was Ms. Marcus. So Gus would either have been placed with her, or would have been in the custody of the Canadian Children’s Services.

“If that had happened, it would have been a very difficult proceeding for you to persuade the courts in Canada that you had standing in the case as Gus’s father.

“Even after Lindsay returned here, if you had not already started proceedings to reinstate your rights to Gus, it may well have been considered that the intent expressed in the inadequate paper you signed indicated in truth that you had no desire to be considered as Gus’s father, and that therefore he would be better off in care.”

I feel myself go cold.

Fuck!

Sam smiles at me, and it’s like some kind of lifeline.

“You should not in any way blame yourself for this situation, Brian,” he says. “That Ms. Peterson has problems is not your fault nor should it be your primary concern. Fortunately, you did set things in motion to reinstate your parental rights, and I can say without hesitation that everyone involved is very happy that instead of being in care, Gus is where he belongs … with his father … fathers.”

I take a slow breath and just nod at him.

He’s right. Hard as that is to admit, let alone accept, he’s right.

Linds and Mel between them fucked things up mightily. And blaming myself for that would be like Michael blaming himself for the mess I made of myself after Justin left with the fiddler.

Could Mikey have done more to help before the fucking crash came? Maybe.

If he hadn’t been so quick to tell me about Ian would I have let my pride get in the way as much as I did when dealing with what he’d told me? Maybe not. Maybe so. Who the fuck knows?

The truth is that between us Sunshine and I created that fucking disaster and nothing that anyone could have said or done would really have helped either of us.

Just like I couldn’t have helped Lindsay over her problems with Mel. If letting them take my son to another country to get right away from me and my ‘influence’ on Linds wasn’t enough, then nothing would have been.

And since she got back to Pittsburgh, Lindsay has been more intent on trying to mend fences with Mel so she could still have access to JR than thinking about her son. Our son. My son.

So I had to think of him, put him first.

And thank fucking God I did!

Jesus!

Once again the thought of how close my son came to being taken into care by people who don’t know him, don’t really care about him, who might put him with some asshole who takes kids in just for the money and then neglects them, or even abuses them …

I feel myself start to shake, but suddenly we’re all standing up and Sam is holding out his hand. So I shake that instead.

“Thank you,” I hear myself tell him. “Thank you.”

He smiles at me again, and nods and I realize that he’s not as totally boring and sexless as I thought him.

He’s got a kind of nondescript charm. If he were anything but totally straight, I still wouldn’t fuck him; but I might steer him towards Ted … or rather Emmett, since Ted is still happily playing house with his ex-druggie counselor.

Sam must catch the appraising look on my face, because he suddenly flushes and turns and takes Sunshine’s hand instead.

If he thinks the blond is the more innocuous option he’s seriously kidding himself, but fortunately for him, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. Neither of us are looking for any outside action right now. We still have a lot of rooms and new furniture to christen, and the privacy to do it properly now Gus has his own room. So we’re saving our energy for that.

We say our goodbyes, thank him again, thank my attorney for allowing us to throw more fucking bundles of cash her way and get out of there.

A quick call to Jenn confirms that she’s just about to collect Gus from school so, although some lesbianic fucking part of me wants to head over there and … I don’t know, make sure he’s alright or something … I just tell her that I might be able to collect him a little early.

What the Hell! I can head back to the office now and scare the shit out of everyone concerned to make sure that things are ready for tomorrow and then take the ‘vette to work early in the morning and leave it to Sunshine to drop Gus off at school in the Jeep later.

Plus I need to make a call to Marty.

That fucking breakfast cart thing is okay, I guess. But we’re going to need a table and some chairs. I don’t want Gus to get into the habit of eating his meals in front of the TV like some trailer trash. I’m thinking he could maybe find something small that later on we can use down in the pool area, or even in the garden. Stainless steel with a glass top maybe. As long as they’re stylish enough to use outdoors it doesn’t really matter what the fuck they look like. It’s not as if anyone’s going to see them in the house.

No one is setting foot in the place until all the fucking renovations are done and the place is looking the way it should.

Aside from anything else, I don’t want to hear all their fucking lame ideas about how we should decorate. If it were up to Emmett everything would be so fucking twee I’d want to throw up all over it, if Michael had his way he’d still have fucking super heroes on every wall and if we let Deb loose, there’d be china cats everywhere and probably ducks flying up the wall. Teddy at least would keep it minimalist, but he’d be trying to persuade me to buy the fucking furniture in boxes.

No … it’s better for everyone if we just keep them away till it’s finished.

By that time, maybe Linds …

I need to get the number of the clinic.

I wonder how soon they’ll let anyone visit.

 

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