Finding Your Own Way Back

Chapter 21

Sitting in the reception area, Brian waited for Miranda to come out to escort him back into her office. As he sat there, Brian replayed the events of the weekend in his head. Saturday had been fanfuckintastic, spending time with both of his boys. And Sunday had been kind of surreal. Well, really surreal. He couldn’t believe that he’d all but fucked Daphne. And he hadn’t done that in five years. So he knew that it would’ve been a big mistake to go through with the floor show for all of them.

Brian chewed on his thumb while he waited, finally getting up to pace the small reception room. There were a few well-thumbed copies of Psychology Today along with Ms. and Sage Woman. But she also had a few copies of National Geographic and People. But nothing he really wanted to read. Why is it that doctors always get such boring magazines for their reception area?

Before he had time to debate the question further, Brian heard Miranda’s voice from behind him. Her voice was reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe though she looked more like Drea de Matteo. Her black Donna Karan suit fit her well and Brian knew she was as much of a label queen as he. “Brian,” she said, and he turned to face her.

Reading the expression on his face, she beckoned him back. Sitting behind her desk, Miranda reached to open the window and opened the enameled box. She waited as Brian took a cigarette and then watched as he lighted one. “So you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Brian met her emerald green eyes, reminded as always of a cat. A sleek, beautiful cat who could rip your throat out with her claws. “I got back together with Justin.” See, he thought, I didn’t beat around the bush.

Well, she thought, that’s certainly unexpected. “Want to tell me how that happened?”

Brian took a pull off his cigarette and stared down at his hands, feeling uncomfortable. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Well, last time we talked you saw him fucking some other guy in the backroom at Babylon. As you watched him, you got off in some trick’s mouth. I think you said something about wishing you were with him. That you missed being with him.”

“Christ,” Brian said, “did I say that. It sounds so lesbianic.”

“Emotions are for everyone, Brian,” Miranda said, trying to keep her tone from sounding exasperated. “Not just women. It’s not a crime for a man to feel something.”

“You obviously didn’t grow up in my household,” Brian snarled. “Emotions, according to Jack, were for pussies.”

Miranda took a deep breath, studying her patient/friend. “Brian, I knew Jack. I know Joan and I know Claire. You are the only good thing that came out of that fucked up family. Jack was a fucking asshole. Claire’s a bitter cunt who can’t keep a man. And I don’t have the words to describe your mom. But we’re not talking about your family, right now. We’re talking about how you got back together with the man who broke your heart.”

“He didn’t break my heart. I don’t have a heart, remember?”

Miranda studied him as she reached for a notepad and pen and clicked on her tape recorder. Sometimes it was better to just listen to Brian than to try to take notes while he was talking to her. And sometimes the sessions were so intense that it would have been distracting to them both to have it disrupted by the scratch of pen against paper. “You’re not the Tin Man, you pretend to be. So, Brian, talk to me. What happened?”

“A week and a half ago, Justin showed up at Vanguard. He had applied for an internship in our art department.”

“Was he aware that it was your place of employment?”

“Yeah, he knew. I think that was a major selling point.”

“Do you think he got the internship because of your prior relationship?”

Brian shook his head before answering. “No, the only person at Vanguard who knows about my knowing Justin previously is my assistant Cynthia.”

“You trust her?”

“With my life,” he said. “Cynthia won’t fuck me over.”

Digesting that, she made a notation on her pad. “So how did you react when you saw him in the Art Department?”

Brian smiled, thinking back upon his reaction. “I was pretty pissed and stunned. I couldn’t believe I was looking at my ex.”

Interesting, she noted, patient calls him “ex” but doesn’t accept that he was in a relationship. “Go on.”

“I called him into my office and asked him what the fuck he was doing there.”

Smooth, she thought. But Brian continued to speak, so Miranda listened, intently. “I reminded him that there were other agencies. Agencies where I don’t work. But he said that Vanguard was the best.”

“Is that true?”

“Which part?”

“That Vanguard is the best.”

“Yes. And part of the reason it’s the best is because of me. I’m good at what I do even though I could care less about selling tampons or douche.”

“Go on,” Miranda said, not reacting to the disparagement of female hygiene products. He was entitled to his opinion.

“He told me that I had nothing to do with his decision.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Fuck no,” Brian said. “I think I was a major selling point. He wanted me back and was willing to do anything to achieve that goal.”

Arrogance and narcissism, she noted. “So what happened?”

“A week ago, Justin was asked to put up the story boards in a meeting I was conducting with Gardner Vance. I think it was nerves but he dropped a couple of the boards and I was more than slightly pissed. Then the representative from Eyeconic Optics said she didn’t like the color and Justin said something about orange being the new blue.”

“How did you react?”

“I was pissed,” Brian said, remembering his reaction to Justin’s unintentional interference. “I met up with him in the art department later on that afternoon and told him that his time at Vanguard was over. That I had a one fuck-up policy and he was gone. He was upset. Said that he had hoped I wouldn’t mind seeing him around on a daily basis. That I might---” Brian cut himself off.

“Might what, Brian?” Miranda coaxed him.

“Get used to him being around again. I told him that he shouldn’t have expected to run back to me after his fling with Paganini, Jr. was over. He said something about giving up and started to walk past me when I grabbed his arm and told him to have some balls for once.”

“What did you mean by that?”

“I meant that if he wanted me back he should act on it, not just fuck around. That we owed each other that much. That, hell---”

“What, Brian?”

“That he owed me that much. Then he kissed me, a deep soul-searching kiss that went straight to my dick. I wanted to fuck him, Miranda. I wanted to rip off his clothes and take him on the fucking drafting table.”

“What happened?”

“He walked out, leaving me stunned and hard. I had to go into my office and jerk off.”

“Why didn’t you go after him?”

Brian looked down at his hands, as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. “I have a policy of never going after anyone.”

“Is that why you let him walk out the night of the Rage party?” Miranda asked.

Brian met her eyes and she could see the pain in his eyes. “I knew when I led that guy to the back of the club and fucked him that I’d be shoving Justin out the door. But I’d told him it was his call. That it was his choice where he wanted to be.”

“What did you want him to do?”

Brian took a deep breath. “I wanted him to come back to me. I wanted things the way they were before everything got fucked up. I wanted Justin back. But I wasn’t about to go begging him to stay with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t do that. I don’t beg for anything,” Brian said.

“How did you feel when he walked out with ---”

“The violin player?” Brian prompted her. “I was hurt. And I was embarrassed that he walked out on me in front of all those people. At a party I had thrown for him and Michael. He didn’t have the balls to talk to me, to tell me it was over in private.”

“You didn’t think fucking someone else where you knew you might get discovered eliminated any need for him to give you the same courtesy of a private breakup?”

“Justin knows who I am. We’ve shared partners before and watched each other fuck others, Miranda. So no I didn’t think it was analogous to what I’d done. I thought he owed me the courtesy of telling me it was over when it was just the two of us. Walking out like he did was a very public ‘fuck you’.”

“So you were hurt?” she prodded.

Brian met her eyes and stubbed out his cigarette. Without asking, Miranda pushed the box to the far edge of the desk. Brian took another and lit it, noticing with irritation that his hands were shaking slightly. “Yeah, I was fucking hurt. I went home that night and lay awake until dawn, hoping he’d come back. I could smell him on the sheets and the pillow case. Fuck. I didn’t think I could feel so hurt.”

“So when he showed up at Vanguard what did you think?”

“I thought that I wasn’t ready for the carousel ride again. But if he wanted to start things up again on a different playing field I might be ready for it.”

“Did you miss him?”

Brian waited a long agonizing moment before saying, in a voice raw with pain, “Yeah, I fucking missed him. I missed waking up with someone. I missed coming home at the end of the day to him. When he walked into the office that day, I was ready to beg him for a second chance. That night when I found him at Babylon, I knew that we were both wishing that we were with each other.”

“So why didn’t you say anything then? Why didn’t you let him know that you wanted to try again?”

“Because that’s not who I am. Brian Kinney doesn’t have to beg for it. And it was his choice to leave. It had to be his choice to walk back in. I wasn’t going to make a preemptive strike when I knew that I might get shot down.”

“So what happened last week?”

Brian smiled. “Cynthia gave me a message that I had a meeting at nine o’clock on Friday.”

“That didn’t strike you as odd?”

“Yeah, it did. Usually I eat dinner with the guys and then we hit Woody’s before Babylon. But that night she was mysterious. I had stuff I could work on so it wasn’t a big deal to beg off doing anything with the guys. When Justin showed up at a quarter till nine, I wasn’t entirely surprised but I was so fucking relieved.”

“What happened?”

“He asked me for a second chance. Told me that he’d made a mistake and wanted me back. Then he promised me that he would never play violin music in my presence again. I told him that he’d be required to work long hard hours sometimes deep into the night.”

“You weren’t just talking about work, were you?”

Brian sent her an incredulous look. “No, I wanted him back in my bed. The sooner the better.”

“So what happened?”

“I pushed stuff around on my desk and then came around to Justin’s side of the desk. Had him close the door and when he came back to me, we found ourselves in each other’s arms kissing like there was no tomorrow.”

“So you fucked him?”

Brian smirked. “Three times at the office. We couldn’t get enough of each other.”

“So is it just a fuck thing? Or do you care about him?”

“I’ve always cared about him,” Brian said. “He’s possibly the only person in my life who I could fall in love with.”

“Not Michael?”

“Mikey loves me,” he admitted. “Foolishly and deeply at times but it’s wrapped up with memories and stuff that will never come to pass. Justin loves me for the man he came to know. I don’t know how to do this relationship shit but I do know that I’ll be damned if I lose him again.”

“So you want this to work with Justin?”

“Yeah, I want this to work with Justin. I know he still loves me. Though I don’t understand why.”

“Has he told you he loves you?”

Brian slowly shook his head. “I think he’s afraid too. In the past, I haven’t always responded well to the words. I don’t put much faith in the words. I’ve always been more action-oriented.”

“Have you ever said them to him?”

Here, Miranda noticed he paused and couldn’t meet her eyes. Then Brian said, “I think that first night I told him I loved him.”

“Really?”

“I was getting ready to shoot and his ass was so tight, working my dick like nothing I’d ever felt before. Nothing like fucking a virgin,” Brian remembered. “I think I told him I loved him as I shot.”

“Did you?”

“It was just something I blurted out,” Brian said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You don’t think something in your subconscious might have recognized that there was something different about this kid?”

“I’ve never thought of him as a kid,” Brian said, voice suddenly a degree or two cooler. “I’ve always seen him as a man. A sexual being who has the power to bring me to my knees when he chooses to do so.”

“So do you think it’s simply a coincidence that your son was born on the same night you met Justin?”

Brian took another pull on the nearly spent cigarette and said, “I don’t believe in that metaphysical bullshit. I don’t think our paths would’ve crossed if I hadn’t come out of Babylon at that moment and seen him at the street light, glowing like some sepulcher. God, he was so fucking beautiful and angelic.”

“Where do you see yourself going with Justin?”

“I don’t know. I want him in my life. I once told him I wanted him around for a long time. I don’t believe in queers getting married so he and I won’t be standing in front of an altar. But I want him in my life for as long as he’ll put up with my shit.”

“So do you see yourself in a committed relationship with him sometime in the future?”

Brian crushed out the cigarette in the crystal ashtray and met Miranda’s inquisitive eyes. “Before he left me for the fucking strolling violinist, I thought he was my partner. I referred to him that way.”

“Did you ever tell him that?”

“No,” Brian admitted. “I thought he understood that was how I felt.”

“Did you not think it important for him to know that he was important to you?”

“From the very beginning we’ve had this kind of bond, Miranda. I could kind of sense when he was in the room with me. It’s like a magnetic pull between us. It’s more than just sexual chemistry though he can wear me out sometimes. I thought he understood that when I said that I’d be coming home to him that what I was really saying was that he was the person I wanted to be with.”

“So you expected him to read between the lines?”

“Yes,” Brian said. “He gets me, Doc. He knows me better than almost anyone. Hell, better than you and Michael. Even better than Lindsay. You’ve all known me from different stages of my life. He fell in love with a man he didn’t even know. And he fought for me. Hell, he even left home to be with me. He could have permanently fucked up his relationship with his family because I mattered more to him than they did. But he’s got a relationship with his mom and his sister.”

“And his dad?”

“His dad’s a fucking asshole,” Brian burst out. “He’s nothing like Jack but he’s still a homophobic prick. He rammed my jeep one night at a stop sign and totaled it. I had a fucking concussion from that. And he attacked me outside Woody’s. When Justin got hurt, Craig didn’t even go to the hospital. It’s like he doesn’t even have a fucking son and that hurts Justin deeply.”

“Would you do anything to protect him?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice so quiet she could barely hear him. “Yeah, I’d do just about anything for Justin. If he asked me to cut open a vein for him, I’d do it.”

“Do you think that’s a healthy attitude?”

Brian snorted. “No, Doc, I don’t think it’s healthy. But he’d do the same for me. And I can be a complete and utter asshole to him. Still he loves me.”

“And that surprises you?”

“Yeah. I didn’t feel that growing up. Claire saw me as the misfit younger brother. And then as we grew up she saw me as someone who had a masculine beauty that she didn’t inherit. But still she had a deep devotion to Jack and a resigned acceptance of Joan. It was me who she didn’t understand.”

“That hurts you, doesn’t it?”

Brian shook his head. “You know my family, Miranda. It’s no great loss. Growing up with the Kinneys was like growing up on a minefield in the Khmer Rouge. I don’t want whatever I have with Justin to be like that. I don’t want to be Jack.”

“Do you think you’re like Jack?”

Brian paused. “I think I have to fight that everyday. I use alcohol and sex as coping mechanisms and pain management. Instead of going out looking for cooze like my old man, I hit the backrooms and the alleys looking for someone willing to suck my dick or a nice ass. I fight the violence that lies within me.”

“And your son?”

“I’d never hit my son,” Brian said. “I would never hit my fucking son. But that’s part of the reason I signed my rights away to the munchers. I don’t have the patience to be a full-time dad. And I don’t want to ever put myself in the situation where I might even be tempted to strike my son. I was Gus’s age the first time Jack hit me. And I remember how it felt when the belt made contact with my butt or my back. I would never put Gus through that.”

“And Justin?”

“I’ve never hit Justin,” Brian said. “The night he came home after being with him and I knew for a certainty that he was fucking around on me, I was tempted. I was drunk and hurt and I knew I was going to end up losing him. That, on some level, I’d already lost him. Instead I kissed him and pretended I was going to fuck him. It got fairly physical and then I pushed him away from me saying he stunk and needed a shower.”

“Did you want him?”

The pain in Brian’s eyes glazed over as they bled from hazel to a deep, foresty green. “There’s never been a moment when I haven’t wanted Justin. At times I crave him like a junkie craves heroin. I’m willing to put up with a lot of shit from Justin. But I know that he puts up with a lot of my shit simply because he loves me.”

“Are you happy now that you’re working things out?” Miranda asked, sneaking a surreptitious glance at the clock on the wall.

“Yeah,” Brian said. “I’m happy. I fucked him in a supply closet at the office today.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?”

“Fuck, Miranda. That’s what makes it hot,” Brian quipped. “Besides, I’ve always been something of an exhibitionist. We were going to have a floor show for my assistant and Justin’s best friend.”

“Really? Is that such a good idea?”

“I said was, Doc. We decided it wasn’t such a good idea. Bring up too many bad memories.” Brian reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed his checkbook. He reached for the Mont Blanc pen on her desk and quickly wrote out a check.

Handing it to her, he asked, “So how fucked up am I?”

She bit back a smile, deciding that wasn’t entirely professional. “Brian, I have patients who like wearing female lingerie and others who like to be watched while they pee. Trust me, your concerns and neuroses are fairly normal. And I would like to see you once a week.”

“Is that necessary?”

She paused. “I won’t make it an order but I think it’d be good for you. You may find that therapy is a concept that works for you. I’d like to see you start keeping a journal. There’s a book by Julia Cameron called The Artist Way that is excellent.”

“A journal?” Brian asked, skepticism clear in his voice.

“Think of it as a safe way to tell what you’re thinking and what you’re feeling. You don’t have to let anyone know about it. Writing can be very cathartic.”

“Writing can also turn you on,” he snarked and watched her color.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Michael’s partner is a professor in the Gay Studies department at Carnegie Mellon. When Michael and Justin first started working together on Rage, he told me that when he was writing he was completely turned on.”

“I take it you were jealous of Michael and Justin.”

“To say the least,” he admitted. “I walked in on them asleep in my bed one night. Nothing happened but I was high and drunk and irritated that they were getting along so well. I tore down a bunch of sketches and pissed on them.”

“Very mature,” she observed as he sent her a glare.

“Well, I wasn’t in complete control of my faculties,” he defended his actions. “But yeah, it wasn’t mature and I hurt both of them. Especially Justin.”

“The journal, Brian?”

Sighing, he said, “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

Then she looked at him and said, “You forgot the Chinese.”

“Fuck,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This was a good session, Brian. I want you to keep me updated on your progress. Take it slow. Don’t rush things. Things can’t go back to what they were before you two broke up.”

Brian stood and looked down at her. His expression softened slightly as he said, “Thanks for putting up with my shit.”

She nodded. “Glad I could help. Good luck.”

She walked him out and stood watching as his taillights disappeared into the horizon. Hope they’ll be okay, she thought, returning to her office to transcribe her session tape. It had been a fairly intense session but she thought it had done her patient some good. Brian had a tendency to shut down, out of a need for self-preservation, so any time he was open was a major breakthrough. Miranda worked late into the evening on the notes, thinking that eventually she would want to talk to both he and Justin together. She couldn’t help wondering if that would ever happen.

Meanwhile, Brian drove home, wondering if he and Justin would make it. He knew that he was determined to give it his all. And he hoped that was good enough for a certain blond.

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