Gift #10 -4 of 5
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urugwaj
FROM:predec2
TITLE: What Follows Next
Earlier that Day – Shear Delight Styling Salon – 3rd Person POV
"Claire? Baby, where have you been? Oh, my! I was afraid of that! You let those roots go too long, Sweetie! But don’t worry; old Em here will have you fixed up in no time!"
Claire smiled weakly at Emmett, feeling a little self-conscious as she sensed the stares of the other patrons nearby as she followed Emmett over to the hair washing stations. Emmett had been doing her hair for years now, and he was definitely the best in her opinion. But sometimes he was a bit ‘overly enthusiastic’ about his trade, and had no compunction when it came to expressing his opinion in front of everyone. He also wasn’t the least bit bashful about his sexuality, constantly describing his latest beau to her. She found the whole thing totally incomprehensible to her – how a man could be attracted to another man, not to mention what ELSE went on between them – but she had learned over the years to basically overlook what Emmett said, and found that an occasional ‘uh, huh,’ or ‘really’ normally kept Emmett happy and believing that she was listening more than she actually was.
That was why she would kick herself later for doing what she did. It happened near the end of her appointment as Emmett was finishing up her hairstyle. She always was grateful to him that at least the conversation never lagged when Emmett did her hair; it was awkward when she had her nails done by Peggy at the manicurist salon, for example; it was like the proverbial pulling out of her teeth to get her to string more than a couple words together. At least with Emmett the time seemed to go by quickly, since he was a constant chatterbox.
Somehow the subject of sometimes not really knowing people as well as you thought you did came up, and she just blurted it out. "You don’t have to tell ME," she said. "My own son is…" she whispered the next part…"Gay."
Emmett’s eyes lit up as he smiled with surprise. "Your son is gay!" he cried out excitedly as she quickly tried to shush him.
"Do you mind?" she scolded him in dismay, feeling her face grow hot in embarrassment as everyone briefly turned to stare over at them before they returned to their own conversations. "Gee, thanks. Now I won't have to advertise it in the New York Times."
Emmett laughed. "Oh, don’t worry, Honey. There are a ton of us around here. Queers are very creative; didn’t you tell me that your son is a photographer?" Claire nodded as Emmett spritzed her hair with her favorite hairspray. "See, what did I tell you?"
"You mean that creativity causes people to become gay? I knew I should have let him go into law or medicine! But no…he wanted to take pictures!"
Emmett shook his head as he held up a hand-held mirror so she could see the back of her hairdo. "Oh, no, honey! People don’t become gay that way! What fantasy novel have you been reading?" He sighed at her good-naturedly. "It’s biological. They can’t help it, just like someone’s born left-handed, or with blue eyes."
Claire nodded her approval of the hairstyle as Emmett placed the handheld mirror down on his styling table. "I find that hard to believe," she insisted with a frown.
"Well, I’ll tell you what. I know just who can help you sort your feelings out, and make you understand what I mean."
She slid off the chair and reached for her purse, pausing at his words. "And just who would this magician be?" she asked warily, as she handed Emmett his fee plus her customary generous tip. Just because she didn’t necessarily agree with him didn’t mean she shouldn’t tip him for his talent. "I already have a psychiatrist, but I would never discuss this with him."
Emmett helped her slip on her fur coat as he shook his head and smiled. "No magic. No shrinks. Just some people who want to help. You need PFLAG."
Claire arched her eyebrow skeptically. "I need what? I thought you said this was a person."
"Not exactly," Emmett explained as he walked her over to the door. "It’s a group of people. PFLAG. Parents and Friends of Lesbian and Gays. They meet once a week across the street at that church," he told her, motioning over to the large Catholic Church with the gothic spires located directly opposite the salon. "They’re people just like you, who have had to come to terms with the same problems you are dealing with. They’ll help you see that gays are just like any other people…and they will show you that you are not alone in your feelings of confusion and maybe even a little resentment?" he asked.
She sighed, unable to deny it under Emmett’s penetrating stare. "Yes," she admitted. "I always wanted some grandbabies to play with. And now…" She narrowed her brow. "PFLAG." Her eyes widened as she realized why that sounded familiar. "Yeah…My brother mentioned that to me before. So you think that would help?" She sighed. "I'll still miss having grandchildren."
Emmett smiled gently at her. "Just because a gay couple can’t have children the conventional way doesn’t mean they can’t have any," he pointed out. She shrugged as he urged her, "They meet tomorrow night at eight. Go…I promise you that you won’t regret it. And it will help you. What have you got to lose?" he pointed out. "Except maybe your son…if you don’t learn to accept him the way he is."
Claire opened her mouth to reply, but found that she didn’t have a good argument for what Emmett had just said. But if any of her friends should see her entering that church – and noticed why – she would never live through the humiliation. "I’ll…think about it, Emmett," she finally told him, not sure if she meant it or if she was just trying to mollify him.
Emmett nodded, seemingly pleased. "That’s all I can ask," he told her. He held the door open for her as he told her, "And now….this man’s got a date tonight with a very studly stud! Wish me luck!"
"Uh…yeah…," she answered slowly, not sure quite how to respond to that. She finally smiled politely at him. Despite her inability to understand his penchant for other men, she still had to admit that he had a good heart and meant well. "Good luck," Emmett," she murmured politely as he nodded at her. Mulling over what the man had said, Claire walked outside and gazed thoughtfully over at the large, old church.
The Next Day…Central Park – 9:03 am. – Justin’s POV
I glanced down at my cellphone to note the time. I knew it was only a few minutes past our normal meeting time, but that was enough to worry me. Normally Brian was punctual to a T; even early most days. And now it was past our meeting time, and there was no sign of him or Mrs. Kinney. I bit my lip, silently berating myself for what had happened that night. Had I scared him off? Was he feeling too much pressure or awkwardness now? "Damn it," I muttered softly. I should have known that was too much, too soon. But why? Why had Brian come back after we had said goodbye if he didn’t want us to take our relationship beyond that of just friendship? I sighed loudly, causing Reggie’s ears to perk up as he looked at me, turning his head to the side as if he were trying to understand me.
"I think I really fucked up, Reggie," I murmured as his big, bug-eyes peered up at me. I closed my eyes, thinking back to last night and what had happened. God, it had been amazing. Even with Brian being a gay virgin, I had never had the type of orgasm I had experienced last night with anyone else. He had taken me to heights of pleasure I didn’t know I could even have. Just the feel of his hands stroking my body, his tender, passionate, sweet kisses, and his cock inside me made me hard just to think about it, even now. I had awakened briefly during the night to feel his warm, taut body underneath mine, and at first I was disoriented. Once I realized it was Brian, however, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of lying in his arms, by how perfect it felt, and I had quickly drifted back off to sleep, not waking up again until I had found him sitting on the bed, pulling his shoes on. My heart had sunk as I realized he was leaving; I had hoped we could spend some more time together lying in bed…or perhaps even discover the joys of showering together with all that entailed.
But Brian had seemed like some frightened rabbit, and had wasted no time leaving in the early hours of the morning. Now, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see him again. The worst part of all was that I didn’t really know where he lived; the only thing I knew was that he resided in some swanky penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. I recalled that he had told me his building was protected by tight security, and that he never published any identifying information online anywhere to ensure his privacy. I figured, then, that there would be no way I could probably reach Brian if he didn’t want me to. I hung my head in my hands and looked down at the ground, closing my eyes as despair washed over me.
A shrill bark from Reggie a few seconds later made me open my eyes and lift my head in hopeful anticipation. "Brian," I whispered in recognition, my heart hammering rapidly as he slowly approached Reggie and me with Mrs. Kinney in tow. I licked my lips nervously as our eyes locked on each other. "Hey," I quietly greeted him with a careful smile, feeling the need to tread lightly.
He smiled and nodded at me in return. "Morning." He squatted down to loop Mrs. Kinney’s leash around the opposite bench leg from Reggie’s as the two dogs became reacquainted, both their stubby tails furiously wagging back and forth; by now, they had become great friends, which led me to wonder – just what were Brian and I now after last night? At least he was here; that was a hopeful sign. I watched as he sat down on the opposite end of ‘our’ bench – as far away as he could. Any other time, he would be seated close to me, his newspaper folded underneath his arm, before he would pull it out and skim over it as we conversed, periodically pointing out something of interest. I had grown to enjoy those times, because it gave me more insight into Brian’s viewpoints and personality. The two of us had found out quite a bit on this park bench as we sat side-by-side; occasionally Brian’s arm would rest along the back of the bench, his fingers barely skimming my shoulder, and it would make me tingle inside. I had had no way of knowing if he was doing it to get more comfortable, or if there was more to it than that. Right now, however, Brian couldn’t possibly do that, because he was sitting too far away. I peered over at him as he stared straight ahead like if he was in some type of trance. "Brian?" At last he turned his head to gaze over at me. "Everything okay? I was getting worried when you didn’t show up at our usual time."
He nodded. "Yeah, everything’s fine," he assured me. "I…just had some things to do, that’s all."
"Oh." I wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. I nodded. "Well, I’m glad you’re here." There was a slight, awkward silence before I told him, "I have something for you." He peered over at me curiously as I turned and dug into a small, paper bag that I had placed next to the bench arm, facing him once more as I held it out to him. "I got this for you. I thought it was only right, considering how many I have," I teased him, suddenly feeling uncertain of myself for some reason. It was the first time since I had met Brian that I had felt this way; normally I felt very comfortable with him. Before, however, I knew the rules of the game. Now, I wasn’t sure. I smiled at him shyly, watching as he took the bag and looked inside. "It’s not much," I continued as he reached inside it and pulled out a navy blue baseball cap with the Yankees insignia on the bill. "But I thought you might like it." He was constantly kidding me about all the baseball caps I wore, so I thought it was time he was given the same ‘thrill.’
I watched as he held it in his hands, his eyes cast down as he seemed to study it. Something told me, however, that it wasn't really the ball cap he was thinking about. "Brian?"
He half-smiled at me. "You remembered my favorite team."
I nodded, smiling back at him. "Yeah. And I think you look good in navy blue. It'll go well with all those dozen, identical, navy-blue shirts you seem to have in your closet," I teased him. It seemed like every day Brian showed up with some variation of navy, or navy and white shirts; the only major difference was the brand. The only exception I had ever seen was the night of our date.
He grinned at me then before his smile faltered just a bit. "I don't have THAT many navy-blue shirts," he protested as I raised my eyebrows at him meaningfully. "Okay…maybe I do," he admitted. He studied the cap held in his hands for a few moments. "Thanks," he whispered as I nodded. "I'm not much of a ball cap wearer, though," he told me.
I wasn't that surprised by his revelation as I shrugged. "That's okay. Maybe one day. You said you have box seats to the stadium."
He nodded, pausing as a heavy silence filled the air, permeated only by the occasional bird or jogger trotting by several feet away on the walking trail.
"Brian…"
"Justin…"
We both tried to talk at the same time as we laughed, breaking the tension just a bit.
"You first," he told me politely as I shook my head; I was more interested in what HE had to say.
"No…you."
I watched as he brushed his hand through his hair, amazed that the normally self-assured man I had come to know actually seemed nervous; much like he had been nervous after dinner. "Brian? Talk to me." I had to know what he was feeling. This man had taken me to a level of pleasure that until then had been unknown to me. And despite his nervousness the other night, I had been thrilled when he had initiated what had happened afterward and that he had wanted it, and that he had made me feel things I had never felt before…and still felt. So I desperately wanted to know how he was feeling now. "How are you feeling?" I paused then, but I had to know. "Why did you leave so quickly yesterday morning?"
He lowered his gaze, appearing decidedly uncomfortable. "The truth?" He asked softly as he lifted his eyes to peer into mine.
I nodded, not quite sure if I was ready for the truth, whatever it might be. But I still had to know. "Yes."
I watched him swallow, oddly aroused by the way his Adam's apple moved up and down on his throat, before he responded quietly, "You…scare me. You fucking scare me to death."
My mouth gaped open. "I scare you? How?" He certainly didn't seem afraid before; in fact, he had left, only to return immediately afterward. To me, that actually took a lot of courage on his part, but it confused the hell out of me now, considering what he had just said. I watched him open his mouth to reply to me, only he didn’t have a chance to say anything else due to a sudden arrival by a very familiar figure.
"Hey, Sweetie! I was hoping to find you here!" Emmett exclaimed excitedly as he bounded up to me like he was walking on air. "I just had to tell you about last night with Tall, Dark, and Well Hung!" I smiled at Em over his enthusiasm as I watched him suddenly peer over at Brian as if he were noticing him for the first time. "Speaking of which…just who is THIS tasty morsel?" He turned to smile curiously at me as I noticed Brian turning a little red in the face. "Have you been holding out on me, Mister?"
I cleared my throat. "Uh…Emmett, this is Brian Kinney. Brian…this is Emmett Honeycutt, a dear friend of mine." I had first met Emmett shortly after coming to New York when I had needed my hair cut. I had stumbled upon the salon where he worked out of sheer chance, and had immediately been drawn to his exuberant, bubbly, and occasionally childlike personality. Whatever mood I was in, he always tended to make me laugh, and he had been a faithful friend to me. Last evening before Brian had come over, he had regaled me with information about a new man he had met the day before who had also come into the salon for a haircut, and was super excited about going out to dinner with him. As was Emmett’s nature when he described people he met, he had immediately reverted to his typical habit of naming them with descriptive terms; hence, the "Tall, Dark, and Hung" moniker…and the 'tasty morsel' term that presently had Brian turning red as a beet.
"Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Brian Kinney!" Emmett plunked himself down in the middle between Brian and me as he intently studied my companion. I could see Brian fidgeting in his seat, observing him adjusting his collar like it was too tight for him as Emmett shamelessly stared over at him like he was a prime cut of meat.
"Uh, nice to meet you," Brian politely replied; I watched as he scrutinized Emmett’s outfit, his eyes slowly sweeping downward to take it all in. Emmett was wearing one of his typical, garish outfits consisting of a metallic, gold mesh shirt with maroon pleather pants, and his favorite, well-worn, brown leather bomber jacket, topped off with a matching maroon scarf around his neck and black mascara. A pair of brown snakeskin boots completed his ensemble. I watched as Brian's eyes widened as he took it all in; no doubt, this was much different than the co-workers he normally would have encountered at his advertising agency before he retired. And I suspected his friends dressed in a much more conservative manner, based upon how he dressed.
"So, Emmett," I began, trying to deflect his attention back to me instead as he turned back around to face me with a smile. "Tell me how your dinner date went. Well, I hope?""
Emmett smiled broadly, a twinkle in his eye as he informed me, "Oh, it was superb, Baby! One of my best dates ever! Let me tell you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and VERY Hung, I might add, is just fine…MIGHTY fine. He just barely had time to head off to the subway and get to work today, because I kept him very occupied until the wee hours of the night…and morning." He winked at me. "That was the 'only' wee thing about him, though," he told me in a stage whisper as he leaned closer to me, making me laugh. "Whew, does he have sta-min-a!" He took care to enunciate each syllable. "I’m going to see him again tonight," he told me with a grin. "We’re going dancing at Mood!"
I smiled. "So he enjoys dancing, too?" That was one of Emmett’s favorite pastimes – well, that and having sex.
"Well, if he doesn’t, he will by the time I get done!" he told me with a smirk as I grinned. He turned back around to look at Brian. "What about you?"
"Huh?"
"You like to boogie, Sweet Thing?"
"Uh…I’ve never…I don’t…" Brian mumbled in embarrassment. "I don’t go to dance clubs," he finally told my friend.
"Oh," Emmett replied, a little disappointed as he pouted. "Such a shame with a body like yours." I watched him look down then at his cellphone he had clutched in his hand as if he just remembered something. "Oh, my God! I have to fly, Baby! My first appointment is in fifteen minutes!" He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before standing up. "Call me soon, okay?" He reached down to affectionately ruffle my hair. "And call for an appointment, too; you’re starting to look like one of the Beatles."
I laughed. "I will, I promise." He nodded back at me as he took one last look at Brian. "Nice to meet you, Gorgeous," he told him, an appreciative sparkle in his eye. "We'll do lunch soon?" he asked.
I nodded at him with a smile. "Sounds good. I'll give you a call tomorrow."
Emmett smiled. "You do that!" he urged me, peering curiously again over at Brian. I knew he wanted to know a lot more than I was telling him about the extremely handsome, older man that was sitting next to me, but I also knew he would wait until we were alone to grill me…and grill me he would, undoubtedly. "See you! And don't forget about that appointment, honey; you need it bad."
I laughed. "I won't! Bye, Em!"
"Bye, boys!" he chirped back with a brief flick of his hand before he turned and rushed off in the direction of the main entrance to the park. I shook my head in amusement at him; Em always made me smile, no matter what else was going on.
I turned to smile at Brian and I explained, "He's a little over the top, but he has a heart of gold." I heard Brian snort in response as I frowned. "What?"
"Over-the-top doesn't begin to describe him," Brian mused, glimpsing Emmett one last time before he disappeared from sight. "He's quite…flashy, isn't he?"
I studied Brian for a moment, wondering what the meaning was behind those words. "I guess you could call him that," I decided. "Is that bad?"
Brian shrugged. "Well…you don't dress that way," he pointed out. "You dress…normally."
I frowned, not liking what I was thinking. "And just what is normally?"
Brian shifted on the bench. "Well…you know…"
I couldn't help feeling affronted on behalf of my friend over the insinuation. "No, I don't know. Why don't you enlighten me? Normal for what? Or for whom?"
I could see Brian struggling to formulate his words properly before he replied, "Well…you don't call attention to yourself, that's all."
I stared at him, not wanting to think what I was thinking. "You mean I don't dress like I'm gay? Is that what you mean?"
"No!" He responded sharply. "I just mean that there's no point in making yourself the center of attention."
"Did you feel embarrassed sitting next to him because of the way he dresses? Just like you would feel embarrassed to be wearing that baseball cap I bought you?"
I watched Brian rake his fingers through his hair. "No, I mean…well…No! But…don't gay people have enough of a stigma on them without making it obvious what they are?"
"Making it obvious?"
"Yes. You saw the way he dressed. And his mannerisms…they were so….so…." He flailed his hands around for emphasis.
I fumed inside with disbelief. "Gay? Go ahead, Brian, say it."
"Okay! Yes, Justin! Gay! Effeminate! Like some damn girl! How do you put up with that?"
I shook my head in dismay and utter disappointment. "I don’t have to put up with anything, Brian. Emmett is my friend. He’s been by my side, supporting me through thick and thin, and has been one of the most loyal friends I’ve ever had. What difference does it make what he wears or how he acts? I’m more interested in what’s inside, and he has a heart of gold. Apparently, though, I embarrass you, too. So I’ll spare you any more awkwardness, and just leave!" I quickly stood up and squatted down to unfasten Reggie’s leash from around the bench leg. "Come on, Reggie, we’re going."
"Justin, be reasonable! You’re nothing like him!"
I stood back up, Reggie's leash gripped tightly in my hand. "You just don’t get it, do you, Brian? You’re too busy making sure every 'T' is signed, and every 'I' is dotted! If someone doesn’t come up to your ‘standards,’ then there’s something wrong with him!
"I didn’t say that!"
"You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face. It still is. Well, guess what, Brian? I AM just like him. I’m gay, too. And I’m not ashamed of that. And maybe, just maybe, one day you will figure out that you’re a lot more like us than you can admit. Maybe someday you’ll figure out who you really are. When you do, call me. Until then…until you can hold my hand in public, or…and kiss me in public without being embarrassed about it…or….or even wear a ball cap, just leave me the fuck alone!" I yanked a little more roughly on Reggie’s leash than I had intended as my blood boiled. Feeling guilty, I reached down and gently scooped the dog up into my arms. "Come on, Boy. We’re getting out of here." I turned around and quickly walked away, refusing to let him see the tears that I knew would fall at any second and relieved when he didn’t say another word.
Thirty Minutes later…Justin’s Apartment
I noticed the red light flashing on my answering machine as I opened the door into my apartment, pausing to unfasten Reggie’s leash and watch him scamper away toward his food dish before I hit the ‘play’ button.
"Hey, Justin. It’s Derrick. Look, I know we’re not seeing each other anymore, but…I miss you. Maybe we can still hang out and be friends? Call me sometime, okay? Uh…I guess that’s all. Hope to hear from you soon. Bye."
I brushed my cheeks with my fingertips to remove the wetness there; I had stopped the flow of waterworks several minutes ago, but my heart was still heavy with sadness. I knew it was wrong; I knew I would regret it tomorrow, and that I would feel guilty as hell. But I needed it. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t told Derrick we could never have a long-term relationship. And yet…
"Hey."
"Hi! I’m kind of surprised you called me back. Are you okay?" I had to hand it to my former ex; he always was adept at picking up on my mood, sometimes to my consternation. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired." I paused, biting my lip, knowing I shouldn’t do it, but somehow unable to help myself. I just wanted something, anything, to take the pain away that was this constant ache in my heart. "Can you come over, Derrick?"
I could hear his intake of shock before he replied softly, "Sure."
As we were fucking an hour later, just for that brief moment in time, I could forget. I could be numb. I could breathe.
Brian’s Apartment – the Next Morning…8:30 a.m.
"Coffee, Brian?" Debbie reached down and scratched behind Mrs. Kinney’s ears affectionately; in no time at all, she had wormed her way into this otherwise brusque lady’s heart, just as she had mine. And just as Justin had done as well. I sighed at the thought of what had happened yesterday at the park. I hadn’t slept a wink all night, my thoughts a tangled jumble of emotions. And it didn’t take long for Debbie to figure that out, either.
"You look like shit," she commented as she handed me a steaming cup of sugar with a little coffee; at least that’s how she often phrased it. "What happened to YOU?"
I’m sure by now Debbie was beginning to think I had lost my mind; not only did I feel – and apparently look – like something the proverbial cat had dragged in, but I hadn’t come home at all the night before, which was a fairly rare occurrence, even when I was out late with a woman. Of course, Justin hadn’t been a woman; far from it. I closed my eyes for a few seconds as the pain washed over me anew; no, Justin had been much more than just a sexual plaything. But that was also the problem. "Thanks, Deb, for your sweet words of concern," I muttered as I took a large sip of my coffee, instantly regretting it when I received a burned tongue as a result. "Fuck! Why didn’t you warn me how hot this damned coffee was?"
She snorted at me. "It’s the same temperature it always is, Mr. Sunshine," she uttered, making me immediately think of someone whose smile was like sunshine.
I scowled over at her. "Just leave me alone."
She placed her left hand on her ample waist as she glared back at me; she always could give as good as she got. "What is going on with you? You didn’t come home at ALL night before last. Now you drag your ass in here looking like some bum from Hell’s Kitchen. Look at you!" she growled as she gave me a long sweep of her eyes, starting with my hair and landing at my feet. "You never come to the kitchen table looking like…that." She motioned with her hand as if I were some smelly flotsam that had fallen off a lower Manhattan barge.
"So I decided to slum a little," I countered as I tentatively took a sip of my now-tolerable coffee. I shrugged. "I’m retired. Retired people don’t have to get up and go to work."
"Uh, huh." Debbie peered down at the ever-present Mrs. Kinney. "And I suppose you’re planning on taking her for a walk looking like that?"
"So what if I am?" Although in my current state – unshaven face, un-showered body, and wearing a wrinkled pair of pajamas – she knew damn well I wouldn’t be caught dead being seen in public this way. I downed the rest of my coffee before abruptly scooting back from the table, glancing downward as a luminous pair of dark eyes stared up at me expectantly. Any other day, Mrs. Kinney and I would be heading out for our daily morning walk to go visit a certain someone and his pooch. However, today there was no way I could face Justin; not after what had happened, and not before I tried to figure out what the fuck I was doing. "Do me a favor, and call down to the front lobby to see if someone can take her out," I asked Debbie, suddenly feeling very weary, and not due to my physical state. I needed to get my shit together; I just didn’t know at the moment how to do that.
Debbie eyed me curiously, a hint of worry in her eyes; despite all her bluster, I knew how much she cared about me, and truthfully, me about her. We had been together for a long time now. But this was definitely something I couldn’t discuss with her. "Brian?" She conveyed so much in that one word, but I shook my head.
"Just do it, okay, Deb?" I urged her softly. "I’m going to go take a shower."
She stared over at me for a few seconds before nodding, and as I walked away I could feel her eyes on my retreating form.
That Evening – Freeman Church – 3rd Person POV
What in the hell am I doing here? Claire thought to herself, as she stood several feet away from the church Emmett had told her about the other day. Night had fallen over the fairly deserted street located off the main drag in Manhattan, and numerous streetlights cast shadows over the buildings and the tree-lined sidewalk. She glanced around furtively, anyway, still thinking that at any second someone who knew her would recognize her, and wonder why she was sneaking around this area after dark. She didn’t know what possessed her to come here after talking to Emmett about her ‘dilemma,’ but she loved her son, and knew that if she were to continue a healthy relationship with him, she needed to understand why he was attracted to other men. She needed to find out more about ‘gay people,’ even though Emmett insisted they were just like everyone else. All she knew was that she loved her son; she just didn’t know, however, that she could go through with this. It felt way too much like an AA meeting, or going to a priest for confession.
As she walked closer to the steps of the impressive Gothic church, she noticed a young man wearing a baseball cap, sitting to one side, his legs bent and drawn up toward his chest; hearing a sound, he turned to peer over at her with a contemplative expression on his face. There was an earnest expression on his face that somehow emboldened her to approach closer to speak to him.
"Excuse me. Is this where…you know… people meet?" She noticed the young blond’s cap with the letters PFLAG on it, so she knew she had to be in the right place.
Justin eyed the woman curiously; despite her expensive, designer coat, her meticulously fashioned hair, and her perfectly manicured nails, he wasn’t that surprised to see her here. There were all walks of life inside the church; wealth and prosperity did not preclude anyone from feeling confused, dismayed, or even heartbroken over the fact that one of their loved ones was gay. Getting those feelings out in the open, however, and working through them was the most effective way to change minds and opinions about what many termed an ‘illness.’ He normally would be inside by now, leading one of the discussion groups. He came here every week to do that. But tonight, he had let someone else lead the talk; he couldn’t find the strength to go inside and face them. Perhaps there was a reason why he had stayed out here, he decided, as he peered up at her and half-smiled in response to her statement.
He nodded. "Yes. This is where the PFLAG meetings are held. You can go on in; they’re just getting started." He watched as she stood there, seemingly in indecision; it wouldn’t be the first – or last – time he had seen someone do that. Everyone had their own reaction to PFLAG meetings: some derided them, some tolerated them, and some ridiculed them, while others welcomed them. Through the shadows cast from the streetlamp nearby, he could clearly see the reluctance on the woman’s face. "Something wrong?" he asked softly, releasing his legs to stretch them out in front of his body to lessen some of the stiffness from having sat in the same position for too long.
Claire gazed down at the young man perched a few feet away; there was something about him that made her want to confide in him, a complete stranger, as she admitted, "I don’t think I can go in there." She let forth with a nervous laugh. "I’m not sure I even belong in there."
Justin smiled in understanding. "I’ve heard that before," he told her.
Claire nodded. "So…you’re one of them?"
Justin chuckled over her phrasing. "Yeah, I’m afraid so," he told her congenially. He scooted over a little more on the steps as he asked her, "Want to join me?" Sensing her hesitation in sitting on the dusty landing, he quietly removed his jacket and placed it down on the ground next to him.
She didn’t know what possessed her to accept his invitation, but Claire decided this friendly-looking man was a safer and less confrontational choice then going inside, and she knew she needed help with her son, so she nodded, gingerly sitting down next to him.
"The name’s Justin," he told her, sticking his hand out toward her.
She hesitated a few moments before grasping his hand in hers. "Claire," she responded politely as he nodded. "So…are you a participant? A family member, or a friend?"
Justin shook his head. "No, neither, actually. Well, I guess in a way I AM a participant. I normally lead one of the discussions that take place inside…but today I felt like staying out here." He stared straight ahead, his mind still occupied on what had happened between him and Brian, before he turned back to face his new companion. "So if I may ask…what are you doing here? I’m assuming someone you know is gay?"
She sighed. "Yes. My son. Brad." She shook her head. "He was raised in a strict Catholic family. We’ve been Catholic for generations. My family helped build this city in a lot of ways through good old blood, sweat, and tears." She paused. "I had such dreams for him. Such high hopes. Now…"
Justin urged her quietly, "Now what?"
"Now he’s going to throw it all away…no children…no wife…" She shook her head. "I just don’t understand why someone would do that."
Justin studied her; it was obvious she was dismayed about it. "He told you he was gay?"
She shook her head. "No…not in so many words," she admitted as she fished inside her Louis Vuitton purse for a cigarette; she lit it up with a gold-toned lighter before she continued. "But he never takes any girls out on dates, and keeps mainly to himself. And he seems to be really good friends with a couple of other men. He never talks about any girls, or any dates he’s been on. I just…know." She sighed. "And I don’t know what to do about it."
"Well, there’s one thing you need to understand," he told her gently; he realized she wasn’t some bigot, but merely misinformed. She was miles away from his own father, who had disowned him years ago, and now treated him like he didn’t exist. "Being gay isn’t something you can cure, or change. It’s who someone is. Some gays don’t realize until they’re in their teens that they ARE gay; they just know they’re different somehow from everyone else. And even once they DO find out they’re gay, they can be subjected to taunts, ridicule, bullying, isolation…or even worse. That’s why some people might realize deep down that they’re attracted to people of the same sex, but they’re afraid of the repercussions if they come out and admit it to themselves…or to their family or friends."
Claire nodded, taking another drag of her cigarette. "You think that’s the case with my son."
Justin shrugged. "It’s possible. He may be denying his true identity to himself; or even if he does know that he’s gay, he could be afraid of what your reaction might be." He paused for a few moments before asking, "Is there a father in the picture? Siblings?"
Claire snorted. "His father is a do-nothing who only married me because he couldn’t find anything better…his words, not mine," she verified. "Once he found someone else to his liking, he dropped me like yesterday’s news. Good riddance, I say. He doesn’t have a thing to do with Brad, emotionally OR financially."
"I’m sorry."
"Don’t be," Claire told him. "I’m not. I never should have married the ass in the first place." She stubbed out her cigarette on the cement steps before studying the young man sitting next to her. "You seem perfectly sane," she observed. "Normal, even."
Justin chuckled slightly. "I am," he told her in amusement. "I’m just like you and everybody else. I just happen to be attracted to other men rather than women. But I have the same hopes, dreams, joys, sadness, and other emotion ups and downs just like everyone else. And so does your son. All he wants is for you to love him and respect his decisions in life…whether it’s his choice of a mate, his career, where he lives, anything. Just like any other child would want from their parent."
"It’s not that easy for me," Claire maintained. "I’ve…never been exposed to this sort of thing. What do I say when he DOES bring home some…some man as his boyfriend?" She shuddered, unable to help herself. "How am I going to handle that?"
"You handle it just like any other person he brings home…you get to know the person, not the label. Trust me, your son will love you all the more if you do."
"You’re saying he won’t love me if I don’t?"
Justin reflected on his own feelings toward his father. Despite how horrid his father had treated him – and their present estrangement – deep down he still loved the man. He didn’t respect him…but he still loved him for some insane reason, and he suspected that this woman’s son would feel the same. "No," he told her. "I think he’ll still love you," he told her. "But all the respect he holds for you will be gone. And your relationship will no doubt become strained."
"You sound like you speak from experience," Claire commented curiously, noticing a flicker of distress cross the young man’s face.
"I do," Justin whispered, the pain still raw, even all this time. "And I’m trying to avoid the same sort of thing from happening between you and YOUR son."
Claire considered his words. "It won’t be easy for me," she told him. "I still don’t understand how a man can…like another man."
"Fair enough," Justin replied. "And you don’t really have to understand. Just accept your son for who he is, and support him. The rest will come eventually. He’s still the same son he’s always been. But if you can learn to accept him for who is he, then he will be more inclined to include you in his life. Otherwise, you run the risk of driving him away."
She studied his words carefully as she peered into his face. "Like your father did?" she surmised astutely.
Justin swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes," was his simple response.
She nodded. "I’ll try. That’s all I can do."
"That’s all he will expect of you. Just knowing you will make the effort will mean the world to him. The rest of it you can both figure out as you go along." He watched as she pushed herself back up to stand. "I’m glad you stopped by," he told her with a small smile. "I wish more people like you would. Maybe if they did, there wouldn’t be so much misunderstanding and hate in this world. I hope you’ll come back," he encouraged her. "Even if it’s just for us to have another talk. I’d really like to see how it goes between you and your son."
Claire picked up her purse and slid it onto her shoulder. "I’ll think about it," she told him, still not sure she wanted to run the risk of someone she knew catching her attending PFLAG meetings. She paused after taking a step to leave. "Thank you, though, Justin. You’ve been a big help."
Justin smiled with nod. "You’re welcome," he told her softly. "Good luck."
With a nod, she turned and slowly walked down the sidewalk before eventually disappearing into the darkness, leaving Justin there on the steps, alone with his own thoughts.
Later that Evening…Justin's Apartment…Justin's POV
Feeling weary down to my bones, I slid my key into the lock and swung the door open; my melancholy thoughts were temporarily forgotten as Reggie came bounding up to greet me, his pig-curled tail wagging furiously in delight. "Hey, Buddy," I murmured, as I threw my keys down on my side table and squatted down to pet him. "Need to go out?" I asked, his tail wagging so much at my words that for the first time in a couple days I had to laugh. "I guess that's a yes," I decided, as I reached to grab his leash hanging on one of my coat hooks. Bending down to pick him up temporarily, I hooked the leash to his collar and headed out for his walk.
I deliberately avoided walking toward Central Park, choosing instead to travel in the opposite direction toward a smaller greenspace. I did not want anything at the moment to remind me of him. But who was I kidding? Just telling myself not to walk anywhere near the park because of him just made me think about him MORE. Since that night two days ago, I hadn't seen him since then; I suspected he was deliberately avoiding me AND our bench so he didn't have to face me. And truthfully, I wasn't sure that I wanted to see him. He had disappointed me for the first time since we had met. His treatment of one of my dearest and sweetest friends had been uncalled for, even if he WAS new to this lifestyle. Even if Emmett had been straight, it would have been unacceptable. He had acted like Emmett was an alien from another planet. Not to mention that he wouldn't even try on the ball cap I had given him. "He probably thought THAT was too gay for him, too," I muttered to myself. I sighed as I stopped to let Reggie take care of his business near one of the larger trees, perching on a cement ledge nearby as I swung my legs idly back and forth. Unfortunately, despite how disappointed I was in Brian, I had to admit the truth: I still couldn't stop thinking about him. Worse than that, I was afraid that I might be falling in love with the bastard.
"Oh, Reggie," I mourned as his large, bulbous eyes peered up at me. "What am I going to do?" I let out a deep sigh. "Come on; we'd better get back," I told him, the night serving to mask my presence but not my pain.
I immediately heard rattling in my kitchen as soon as I unlocked my front door several minutes later to enter, but I wasn't fearful; the rapid wagging of Reggie's tale as he scampered out to greet our 'guest' – and the cursing spewing nearby – alerted me to whom my burglar was, and despite my mood, I had to smile slightly in response. "It's customary, you know, to wait until people are HOME to visit."
Daphne came waltzing out with a glass of white wine in one hand, and her cellphone in the other. "I was just about to call you, I swear!"
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before," I grumbled good-naturedly as she walked up and kissed me on the cheek. She shivered. "Geez, Justin! Next time wear a REAL coat!"
I rolled my eyes as I followed her into the living room. "I was just out long enough to walk Reggie," I explained as she handed me her glass.
"Here, this'll warm you up; I'll go get the bottle and another glass."
I nodded as she walked away, taking a tentative drink before placing it down onto the coffee table in front of me. Even though I presently didn't feel much like having any company, I couldn't very well tell Daphne I didn't want her here. She was my dearest and best friend, and – like Emmett – had been there whenever I needed her. So I resolved to try and lift my mood while she was here – or at least act like I was happy, anyway.
I looked up and plastered on a smile as she walked back to me, Reggie clicking along behind her with a rawhide chew in his mouth; obtained, no doubt, from the cookie jar I kept on the counter. I groaned. "Daphne! I thought I told you no doggie treats after dinner. I'll have to wind up taking him out again – or risk having doggie diarrhea on my wood floor tomorrow morning."
She tsked tsked. "Oh, hush up! That's the turkey jerky treats, not a rawhide. He'll be fine. Besides, who can resist that pudgy face?" she asked, practically cooing at my dog.
I rolled my eyes as she studied me intently. "You're not just grumpy because you're cold, or I gave Reggie a treat," she decided. "What's wrong?"
I swallowed hard, feeling like someone who had been caught doing something they shouldn't have. "Nothing," I dismissed her. "I'm fine."
She squinted her eyes at me as if that would tell her more. "No, it's not. Something is bothering you; I can see it."
I barked out a nervous laugh that sounded hollow even to me. "What? Do I have 'sick' written on my forehead?"
"No…," she slowly replied as she continued to stare so intently at me that I actually felt uncomfortable. I averted my eyes and reached for my glass to take another drink. "No, it's not that. It's your smile."
I turned to look at her and DID smile slightly then. "My smile? Do I have something between my teeth? Bad breath? Come on, Daphne, tell me about the new guy at work. Have you two conducted any business between the sheets yet?" I teased her. But even to me I didn't sound like myself, and she recognized my diversionary tactic for what it was.
"No, it's what your smile isn't saying," she continued, ignoring my questions. She gasped in astute realization. "It's that guy, isn't it?" Her eyes narrowed with concern. "What did he do to you, Justin?" Her normally perky self suddenly disappeared, and her 'Dr. Daphne' mode emerged.
I took one more drink to steel myself before placing the now-empty glass down onto the coffee table with a little more force than I had intended. "Nothing," I tried to explain. "He…he did nothing." Something…everything… Against my will, my eyes began to tear up. I took a deep breath, still not able to meet my friend in the eyes, because she knew me way too well. "Uh…want something to eat?" I asked, beginning to stand up. But she promptly grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down.
"No, Justin," she told me firmly as she put her own glass down next to mine. "What I want is the truth. What did this guy do to you? You couldn't shut up about him the other day; now it's as if he doesn't exist. You never DID tell me what happened at dinner. He DID come to dinner, didn't he?"
I sighed, knowing there was going to be no way to avoid this conversation; perhaps I didn't want to. I snorted. "Yeah, he came to dinner, all right; and then he came after dinner. He really fucked me over."
She gasped, her eyes wide. "Oh, my God! You mean fucked you over as in fucked you over? Or do you mean he REALLY fucked you over?"
I didn't really have to answer her question, because as I looked into her eyes and she saw the pain there, she instantly knew.
"Oh, no," she murmured as she pulled me closer to her. "The two of you actually fucked after dinner? You told me you didn't even know if he was gay!"
I laughed derisively. "Oh, he's gay, all right. He might not have ever fucked before, but he's definitely gay. I fucked him…and then he fucked me. In more ways than one." Again, my eyes teared up and my face clouded over as the pain washed over me, and the tears finally began to fall freely as my face crumpled and I gave into my emotions. "Daphne, he screwed me. He fucked me…he stayed the night with me…and then he left as if we had just conducted some sort of business meeting. And…and then when we finally met up again at the park," I took a deep breath as Daphne's fingers slowly stroked the skin around my wrist, "…then he embarrassed me around Emmett."
She frowned. "Emmett? How did he do that?"
I took another breath and let it out to compose myself as Daphne reached up with one hand to tenderly wipe my tears away, tucking some errant hair behind my ear as she stared quietly into my eyes, offering me the support that I so desperately needed. "Emmett, at least, didn't seem to notice. But when he ran into me at the park, I saw Brian staring at him when he sat down between us. And later he commented on what Emmett had been wearing, and asked me how I could associate with someone so 'gay.' And…and then when I tried to give him a gift," I told her as her eyes widened slightly more in surprise. I laughed in self-loathing as I explained, "It was just a Yankees ball cap. You know how I always like to wear one," I continued as she nodded. "Well, I tried to give him one, too, with his favorite team on it, and he took it, but very reluctantly. He said he 'didn't wear ball caps'." I shook my head as the tears fell more freely now as my heart was laid bare; I knew it wasn't the ball cap that was making me upset. "Daphne, he hurt me. God, he hurt me so much. I felt like some sort of experiment. And…and the worst thing is…"
"What?" she pressed softly.
I sniffled as she continued to wipe my cheeks with the pads of her fingers. "The worst thing is, I think I was falling in love with him. God, how stupid can I be?" I asked her. "I…I even asked Derrick to come over," I admitted as she sucked in a sharp breath.
"You mean…you asked him over to…"
I nodded in shame. "Yeah…I don't know why I did it. And I have no intention of continuing our relationship." I swallowed, hating myself for what I had done. "I used him, Daph," I choked out. "Just like Brian had used me."
"Oh, Justin," Daphne replied, her voice breaking as she pulled me into her arms and my head fell into her lap. I cried openly now as she slowly stroked my hair with her slender fingers. "Everything will be okay," she murmured soothingly as she tried her best to comfort me. "I'm not sure how," she admitted softly. "But it will. And I'll be right here with you."
I nodded, too overcome with emotion and weariness to reply. Soon, I gave into my exhaustion and fell asleep, my head still on her lap.
urugwajFROM:
predec2TITLE: What Follows Next
Earlier that Day – Shear Delight Styling Salon – 3rd Person POV
"Claire? Baby, where have you been? Oh, my! I was afraid of that! You let those roots go too long, Sweetie! But don’t worry; old Em here will have you fixed up in no time!"
Claire smiled weakly at Emmett, feeling a little self-conscious as she sensed the stares of the other patrons nearby as she followed Emmett over to the hair washing stations. Emmett had been doing her hair for years now, and he was definitely the best in her opinion. But sometimes he was a bit ‘overly enthusiastic’ about his trade, and had no compunction when it came to expressing his opinion in front of everyone. He also wasn’t the least bit bashful about his sexuality, constantly describing his latest beau to her. She found the whole thing totally incomprehensible to her – how a man could be attracted to another man, not to mention what ELSE went on between them – but she had learned over the years to basically overlook what Emmett said, and found that an occasional ‘uh, huh,’ or ‘really’ normally kept Emmett happy and believing that she was listening more than she actually was.
That was why she would kick herself later for doing what she did. It happened near the end of her appointment as Emmett was finishing up her hairstyle. She always was grateful to him that at least the conversation never lagged when Emmett did her hair; it was awkward when she had her nails done by Peggy at the manicurist salon, for example; it was like the proverbial pulling out of her teeth to get her to string more than a couple words together. At least with Emmett the time seemed to go by quickly, since he was a constant chatterbox.
Somehow the subject of sometimes not really knowing people as well as you thought you did came up, and she just blurted it out. "You don’t have to tell ME," she said. "My own son is…" she whispered the next part…"Gay."
Emmett’s eyes lit up as he smiled with surprise. "Your son is gay!" he cried out excitedly as she quickly tried to shush him.
"Do you mind?" she scolded him in dismay, feeling her face grow hot in embarrassment as everyone briefly turned to stare over at them before they returned to their own conversations. "Gee, thanks. Now I won't have to advertise it in the New York Times."
Emmett laughed. "Oh, don’t worry, Honey. There are a ton of us around here. Queers are very creative; didn’t you tell me that your son is a photographer?" Claire nodded as Emmett spritzed her hair with her favorite hairspray. "See, what did I tell you?"
"You mean that creativity causes people to become gay? I knew I should have let him go into law or medicine! But no…he wanted to take pictures!"
Emmett shook his head as he held up a hand-held mirror so she could see the back of her hairdo. "Oh, no, honey! People don’t become gay that way! What fantasy novel have you been reading?" He sighed at her good-naturedly. "It’s biological. They can’t help it, just like someone’s born left-handed, or with blue eyes."
Claire nodded her approval of the hairstyle as Emmett placed the handheld mirror down on his styling table. "I find that hard to believe," she insisted with a frown.
"Well, I’ll tell you what. I know just who can help you sort your feelings out, and make you understand what I mean."
She slid off the chair and reached for her purse, pausing at his words. "And just who would this magician be?" she asked warily, as she handed Emmett his fee plus her customary generous tip. Just because she didn’t necessarily agree with him didn’t mean she shouldn’t tip him for his talent. "I already have a psychiatrist, but I would never discuss this with him."
Emmett helped her slip on her fur coat as he shook his head and smiled. "No magic. No shrinks. Just some people who want to help. You need PFLAG."
Claire arched her eyebrow skeptically. "I need what? I thought you said this was a person."
"Not exactly," Emmett explained as he walked her over to the door. "It’s a group of people. PFLAG. Parents and Friends of Lesbian and Gays. They meet once a week across the street at that church," he told her, motioning over to the large Catholic Church with the gothic spires located directly opposite the salon. "They’re people just like you, who have had to come to terms with the same problems you are dealing with. They’ll help you see that gays are just like any other people…and they will show you that you are not alone in your feelings of confusion and maybe even a little resentment?" he asked.
She sighed, unable to deny it under Emmett’s penetrating stare. "Yes," she admitted. "I always wanted some grandbabies to play with. And now…" She narrowed her brow. "PFLAG." Her eyes widened as she realized why that sounded familiar. "Yeah…My brother mentioned that to me before. So you think that would help?" She sighed. "I'll still miss having grandchildren."
Emmett smiled gently at her. "Just because a gay couple can’t have children the conventional way doesn’t mean they can’t have any," he pointed out. She shrugged as he urged her, "They meet tomorrow night at eight. Go…I promise you that you won’t regret it. And it will help you. What have you got to lose?" he pointed out. "Except maybe your son…if you don’t learn to accept him the way he is."
Claire opened her mouth to reply, but found that she didn’t have a good argument for what Emmett had just said. But if any of her friends should see her entering that church – and noticed why – she would never live through the humiliation. "I’ll…think about it, Emmett," she finally told him, not sure if she meant it or if she was just trying to mollify him.
Emmett nodded, seemingly pleased. "That’s all I can ask," he told her. He held the door open for her as he told her, "And now….this man’s got a date tonight with a very studly stud! Wish me luck!"
"Uh…yeah…," she answered slowly, not sure quite how to respond to that. She finally smiled politely at him. Despite her inability to understand his penchant for other men, she still had to admit that he had a good heart and meant well. "Good luck," Emmett," she murmured politely as he nodded at her. Mulling over what the man had said, Claire walked outside and gazed thoughtfully over at the large, old church.
The Next Day…Central Park – 9:03 am. – Justin’s POV
I glanced down at my cellphone to note the time. I knew it was only a few minutes past our normal meeting time, but that was enough to worry me. Normally Brian was punctual to a T; even early most days. And now it was past our meeting time, and there was no sign of him or Mrs. Kinney. I bit my lip, silently berating myself for what had happened that night. Had I scared him off? Was he feeling too much pressure or awkwardness now? "Damn it," I muttered softly. I should have known that was too much, too soon. But why? Why had Brian come back after we had said goodbye if he didn’t want us to take our relationship beyond that of just friendship? I sighed loudly, causing Reggie’s ears to perk up as he looked at me, turning his head to the side as if he were trying to understand me.
"I think I really fucked up, Reggie," I murmured as his big, bug-eyes peered up at me. I closed my eyes, thinking back to last night and what had happened. God, it had been amazing. Even with Brian being a gay virgin, I had never had the type of orgasm I had experienced last night with anyone else. He had taken me to heights of pleasure I didn’t know I could even have. Just the feel of his hands stroking my body, his tender, passionate, sweet kisses, and his cock inside me made me hard just to think about it, even now. I had awakened briefly during the night to feel his warm, taut body underneath mine, and at first I was disoriented. Once I realized it was Brian, however, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of lying in his arms, by how perfect it felt, and I had quickly drifted back off to sleep, not waking up again until I had found him sitting on the bed, pulling his shoes on. My heart had sunk as I realized he was leaving; I had hoped we could spend some more time together lying in bed…or perhaps even discover the joys of showering together with all that entailed.
But Brian had seemed like some frightened rabbit, and had wasted no time leaving in the early hours of the morning. Now, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see him again. The worst part of all was that I didn’t really know where he lived; the only thing I knew was that he resided in some swanky penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. I recalled that he had told me his building was protected by tight security, and that he never published any identifying information online anywhere to ensure his privacy. I figured, then, that there would be no way I could probably reach Brian if he didn’t want me to. I hung my head in my hands and looked down at the ground, closing my eyes as despair washed over me.
A shrill bark from Reggie a few seconds later made me open my eyes and lift my head in hopeful anticipation. "Brian," I whispered in recognition, my heart hammering rapidly as he slowly approached Reggie and me with Mrs. Kinney in tow. I licked my lips nervously as our eyes locked on each other. "Hey," I quietly greeted him with a careful smile, feeling the need to tread lightly.
He smiled and nodded at me in return. "Morning." He squatted down to loop Mrs. Kinney’s leash around the opposite bench leg from Reggie’s as the two dogs became reacquainted, both their stubby tails furiously wagging back and forth; by now, they had become great friends, which led me to wonder – just what were Brian and I now after last night? At least he was here; that was a hopeful sign. I watched as he sat down on the opposite end of ‘our’ bench – as far away as he could. Any other time, he would be seated close to me, his newspaper folded underneath his arm, before he would pull it out and skim over it as we conversed, periodically pointing out something of interest. I had grown to enjoy those times, because it gave me more insight into Brian’s viewpoints and personality. The two of us had found out quite a bit on this park bench as we sat side-by-side; occasionally Brian’s arm would rest along the back of the bench, his fingers barely skimming my shoulder, and it would make me tingle inside. I had had no way of knowing if he was doing it to get more comfortable, or if there was more to it than that. Right now, however, Brian couldn’t possibly do that, because he was sitting too far away. I peered over at him as he stared straight ahead like if he was in some type of trance. "Brian?" At last he turned his head to gaze over at me. "Everything okay? I was getting worried when you didn’t show up at our usual time."
He nodded. "Yeah, everything’s fine," he assured me. "I…just had some things to do, that’s all."
"Oh." I wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. I nodded. "Well, I’m glad you’re here." There was a slight, awkward silence before I told him, "I have something for you." He peered over at me curiously as I turned and dug into a small, paper bag that I had placed next to the bench arm, facing him once more as I held it out to him. "I got this for you. I thought it was only right, considering how many I have," I teased him, suddenly feeling uncertain of myself for some reason. It was the first time since I had met Brian that I had felt this way; normally I felt very comfortable with him. Before, however, I knew the rules of the game. Now, I wasn’t sure. I smiled at him shyly, watching as he took the bag and looked inside. "It’s not much," I continued as he reached inside it and pulled out a navy blue baseball cap with the Yankees insignia on the bill. "But I thought you might like it." He was constantly kidding me about all the baseball caps I wore, so I thought it was time he was given the same ‘thrill.’
I watched as he held it in his hands, his eyes cast down as he seemed to study it. Something told me, however, that it wasn't really the ball cap he was thinking about. "Brian?"
He half-smiled at me. "You remembered my favorite team."
I nodded, smiling back at him. "Yeah. And I think you look good in navy blue. It'll go well with all those dozen, identical, navy-blue shirts you seem to have in your closet," I teased him. It seemed like every day Brian showed up with some variation of navy, or navy and white shirts; the only major difference was the brand. The only exception I had ever seen was the night of our date.
He grinned at me then before his smile faltered just a bit. "I don't have THAT many navy-blue shirts," he protested as I raised my eyebrows at him meaningfully. "Okay…maybe I do," he admitted. He studied the cap held in his hands for a few moments. "Thanks," he whispered as I nodded. "I'm not much of a ball cap wearer, though," he told me.
I wasn't that surprised by his revelation as I shrugged. "That's okay. Maybe one day. You said you have box seats to the stadium."
He nodded, pausing as a heavy silence filled the air, permeated only by the occasional bird or jogger trotting by several feet away on the walking trail.
"Brian…"
"Justin…"
We both tried to talk at the same time as we laughed, breaking the tension just a bit.
"You first," he told me politely as I shook my head; I was more interested in what HE had to say.
"No…you."
I watched as he brushed his hand through his hair, amazed that the normally self-assured man I had come to know actually seemed nervous; much like he had been nervous after dinner. "Brian? Talk to me." I had to know what he was feeling. This man had taken me to a level of pleasure that until then had been unknown to me. And despite his nervousness the other night, I had been thrilled when he had initiated what had happened afterward and that he had wanted it, and that he had made me feel things I had never felt before…and still felt. So I desperately wanted to know how he was feeling now. "How are you feeling?" I paused then, but I had to know. "Why did you leave so quickly yesterday morning?"
He lowered his gaze, appearing decidedly uncomfortable. "The truth?" He asked softly as he lifted his eyes to peer into mine.
I nodded, not quite sure if I was ready for the truth, whatever it might be. But I still had to know. "Yes."
I watched him swallow, oddly aroused by the way his Adam's apple moved up and down on his throat, before he responded quietly, "You…scare me. You fucking scare me to death."
My mouth gaped open. "I scare you? How?" He certainly didn't seem afraid before; in fact, he had left, only to return immediately afterward. To me, that actually took a lot of courage on his part, but it confused the hell out of me now, considering what he had just said. I watched him open his mouth to reply to me, only he didn’t have a chance to say anything else due to a sudden arrival by a very familiar figure.
"Hey, Sweetie! I was hoping to find you here!" Emmett exclaimed excitedly as he bounded up to me like he was walking on air. "I just had to tell you about last night with Tall, Dark, and Well Hung!" I smiled at Em over his enthusiasm as I watched him suddenly peer over at Brian as if he were noticing him for the first time. "Speaking of which…just who is THIS tasty morsel?" He turned to smile curiously at me as I noticed Brian turning a little red in the face. "Have you been holding out on me, Mister?"
I cleared my throat. "Uh…Emmett, this is Brian Kinney. Brian…this is Emmett Honeycutt, a dear friend of mine." I had first met Emmett shortly after coming to New York when I had needed my hair cut. I had stumbled upon the salon where he worked out of sheer chance, and had immediately been drawn to his exuberant, bubbly, and occasionally childlike personality. Whatever mood I was in, he always tended to make me laugh, and he had been a faithful friend to me. Last evening before Brian had come over, he had regaled me with information about a new man he had met the day before who had also come into the salon for a haircut, and was super excited about going out to dinner with him. As was Emmett’s nature when he described people he met, he had immediately reverted to his typical habit of naming them with descriptive terms; hence, the "Tall, Dark, and Hung" moniker…and the 'tasty morsel' term that presently had Brian turning red as a beet.
"Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Brian Kinney!" Emmett plunked himself down in the middle between Brian and me as he intently studied my companion. I could see Brian fidgeting in his seat, observing him adjusting his collar like it was too tight for him as Emmett shamelessly stared over at him like he was a prime cut of meat.
"Uh, nice to meet you," Brian politely replied; I watched as he scrutinized Emmett’s outfit, his eyes slowly sweeping downward to take it all in. Emmett was wearing one of his typical, garish outfits consisting of a metallic, gold mesh shirt with maroon pleather pants, and his favorite, well-worn, brown leather bomber jacket, topped off with a matching maroon scarf around his neck and black mascara. A pair of brown snakeskin boots completed his ensemble. I watched as Brian's eyes widened as he took it all in; no doubt, this was much different than the co-workers he normally would have encountered at his advertising agency before he retired. And I suspected his friends dressed in a much more conservative manner, based upon how he dressed.
"So, Emmett," I began, trying to deflect his attention back to me instead as he turned back around to face me with a smile. "Tell me how your dinner date went. Well, I hope?""
Emmett smiled broadly, a twinkle in his eye as he informed me, "Oh, it was superb, Baby! One of my best dates ever! Let me tell you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and VERY Hung, I might add, is just fine…MIGHTY fine. He just barely had time to head off to the subway and get to work today, because I kept him very occupied until the wee hours of the night…and morning." He winked at me. "That was the 'only' wee thing about him, though," he told me in a stage whisper as he leaned closer to me, making me laugh. "Whew, does he have sta-min-a!" He took care to enunciate each syllable. "I’m going to see him again tonight," he told me with a grin. "We’re going dancing at Mood!"
I smiled. "So he enjoys dancing, too?" That was one of Emmett’s favorite pastimes – well, that and having sex.
"Well, if he doesn’t, he will by the time I get done!" he told me with a smirk as I grinned. He turned back around to look at Brian. "What about you?"
"Huh?"
"You like to boogie, Sweet Thing?"
"Uh…I’ve never…I don’t…" Brian mumbled in embarrassment. "I don’t go to dance clubs," he finally told my friend.
"Oh," Emmett replied, a little disappointed as he pouted. "Such a shame with a body like yours." I watched him look down then at his cellphone he had clutched in his hand as if he just remembered something. "Oh, my God! I have to fly, Baby! My first appointment is in fifteen minutes!" He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before standing up. "Call me soon, okay?" He reached down to affectionately ruffle my hair. "And call for an appointment, too; you’re starting to look like one of the Beatles."
I laughed. "I will, I promise." He nodded back at me as he took one last look at Brian. "Nice to meet you, Gorgeous," he told him, an appreciative sparkle in his eye. "We'll do lunch soon?" he asked.
I nodded at him with a smile. "Sounds good. I'll give you a call tomorrow."
Emmett smiled. "You do that!" he urged me, peering curiously again over at Brian. I knew he wanted to know a lot more than I was telling him about the extremely handsome, older man that was sitting next to me, but I also knew he would wait until we were alone to grill me…and grill me he would, undoubtedly. "See you! And don't forget about that appointment, honey; you need it bad."
I laughed. "I won't! Bye, Em!"
"Bye, boys!" he chirped back with a brief flick of his hand before he turned and rushed off in the direction of the main entrance to the park. I shook my head in amusement at him; Em always made me smile, no matter what else was going on.
I turned to smile at Brian and I explained, "He's a little over the top, but he has a heart of gold." I heard Brian snort in response as I frowned. "What?"
"Over-the-top doesn't begin to describe him," Brian mused, glimpsing Emmett one last time before he disappeared from sight. "He's quite…flashy, isn't he?"
I studied Brian for a moment, wondering what the meaning was behind those words. "I guess you could call him that," I decided. "Is that bad?"
Brian shrugged. "Well…you don't dress that way," he pointed out. "You dress…normally."
I frowned, not liking what I was thinking. "And just what is normally?"
Brian shifted on the bench. "Well…you know…"
I couldn't help feeling affronted on behalf of my friend over the insinuation. "No, I don't know. Why don't you enlighten me? Normal for what? Or for whom?"
I could see Brian struggling to formulate his words properly before he replied, "Well…you don't call attention to yourself, that's all."
I stared at him, not wanting to think what I was thinking. "You mean I don't dress like I'm gay? Is that what you mean?"
"No!" He responded sharply. "I just mean that there's no point in making yourself the center of attention."
"Did you feel embarrassed sitting next to him because of the way he dresses? Just like you would feel embarrassed to be wearing that baseball cap I bought you?"
I watched Brian rake his fingers through his hair. "No, I mean…well…No! But…don't gay people have enough of a stigma on them without making it obvious what they are?"
"Making it obvious?"
"Yes. You saw the way he dressed. And his mannerisms…they were so….so…." He flailed his hands around for emphasis.
I fumed inside with disbelief. "Gay? Go ahead, Brian, say it."
"Okay! Yes, Justin! Gay! Effeminate! Like some damn girl! How do you put up with that?"
I shook my head in dismay and utter disappointment. "I don’t have to put up with anything, Brian. Emmett is my friend. He’s been by my side, supporting me through thick and thin, and has been one of the most loyal friends I’ve ever had. What difference does it make what he wears or how he acts? I’m more interested in what’s inside, and he has a heart of gold. Apparently, though, I embarrass you, too. So I’ll spare you any more awkwardness, and just leave!" I quickly stood up and squatted down to unfasten Reggie’s leash from around the bench leg. "Come on, Reggie, we’re going."
"Justin, be reasonable! You’re nothing like him!"
I stood back up, Reggie's leash gripped tightly in my hand. "You just don’t get it, do you, Brian? You’re too busy making sure every 'T' is signed, and every 'I' is dotted! If someone doesn’t come up to your ‘standards,’ then there’s something wrong with him!
"I didn’t say that!"
"You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face. It still is. Well, guess what, Brian? I AM just like him. I’m gay, too. And I’m not ashamed of that. And maybe, just maybe, one day you will figure out that you’re a lot more like us than you can admit. Maybe someday you’ll figure out who you really are. When you do, call me. Until then…until you can hold my hand in public, or…and kiss me in public without being embarrassed about it…or….or even wear a ball cap, just leave me the fuck alone!" I yanked a little more roughly on Reggie’s leash than I had intended as my blood boiled. Feeling guilty, I reached down and gently scooped the dog up into my arms. "Come on, Boy. We’re getting out of here." I turned around and quickly walked away, refusing to let him see the tears that I knew would fall at any second and relieved when he didn’t say another word.
Thirty Minutes later…Justin’s Apartment
I noticed the red light flashing on my answering machine as I opened the door into my apartment, pausing to unfasten Reggie’s leash and watch him scamper away toward his food dish before I hit the ‘play’ button.
"Hey, Justin. It’s Derrick. Look, I know we’re not seeing each other anymore, but…I miss you. Maybe we can still hang out and be friends? Call me sometime, okay? Uh…I guess that’s all. Hope to hear from you soon. Bye."
I brushed my cheeks with my fingertips to remove the wetness there; I had stopped the flow of waterworks several minutes ago, but my heart was still heavy with sadness. I knew it was wrong; I knew I would regret it tomorrow, and that I would feel guilty as hell. But I needed it. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t told Derrick we could never have a long-term relationship. And yet…
"Hey."
"Hi! I’m kind of surprised you called me back. Are you okay?" I had to hand it to my former ex; he always was adept at picking up on my mood, sometimes to my consternation. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired." I paused, biting my lip, knowing I shouldn’t do it, but somehow unable to help myself. I just wanted something, anything, to take the pain away that was this constant ache in my heart. "Can you come over, Derrick?"
I could hear his intake of shock before he replied softly, "Sure."
As we were fucking an hour later, just for that brief moment in time, I could forget. I could be numb. I could breathe.
Brian’s Apartment – the Next Morning…8:30 a.m.
"Coffee, Brian?" Debbie reached down and scratched behind Mrs. Kinney’s ears affectionately; in no time at all, she had wormed her way into this otherwise brusque lady’s heart, just as she had mine. And just as Justin had done as well. I sighed at the thought of what had happened yesterday at the park. I hadn’t slept a wink all night, my thoughts a tangled jumble of emotions. And it didn’t take long for Debbie to figure that out, either.
"You look like shit," she commented as she handed me a steaming cup of sugar with a little coffee; at least that’s how she often phrased it. "What happened to YOU?"
I’m sure by now Debbie was beginning to think I had lost my mind; not only did I feel – and apparently look – like something the proverbial cat had dragged in, but I hadn’t come home at all the night before, which was a fairly rare occurrence, even when I was out late with a woman. Of course, Justin hadn’t been a woman; far from it. I closed my eyes for a few seconds as the pain washed over me anew; no, Justin had been much more than just a sexual plaything. But that was also the problem. "Thanks, Deb, for your sweet words of concern," I muttered as I took a large sip of my coffee, instantly regretting it when I received a burned tongue as a result. "Fuck! Why didn’t you warn me how hot this damned coffee was?"
She snorted at me. "It’s the same temperature it always is, Mr. Sunshine," she uttered, making me immediately think of someone whose smile was like sunshine.
I scowled over at her. "Just leave me alone."
She placed her left hand on her ample waist as she glared back at me; she always could give as good as she got. "What is going on with you? You didn’t come home at ALL night before last. Now you drag your ass in here looking like some bum from Hell’s Kitchen. Look at you!" she growled as she gave me a long sweep of her eyes, starting with my hair and landing at my feet. "You never come to the kitchen table looking like…that." She motioned with her hand as if I were some smelly flotsam that had fallen off a lower Manhattan barge.
"So I decided to slum a little," I countered as I tentatively took a sip of my now-tolerable coffee. I shrugged. "I’m retired. Retired people don’t have to get up and go to work."
"Uh, huh." Debbie peered down at the ever-present Mrs. Kinney. "And I suppose you’re planning on taking her for a walk looking like that?"
"So what if I am?" Although in my current state – unshaven face, un-showered body, and wearing a wrinkled pair of pajamas – she knew damn well I wouldn’t be caught dead being seen in public this way. I downed the rest of my coffee before abruptly scooting back from the table, glancing downward as a luminous pair of dark eyes stared up at me expectantly. Any other day, Mrs. Kinney and I would be heading out for our daily morning walk to go visit a certain someone and his pooch. However, today there was no way I could face Justin; not after what had happened, and not before I tried to figure out what the fuck I was doing. "Do me a favor, and call down to the front lobby to see if someone can take her out," I asked Debbie, suddenly feeling very weary, and not due to my physical state. I needed to get my shit together; I just didn’t know at the moment how to do that.
Debbie eyed me curiously, a hint of worry in her eyes; despite all her bluster, I knew how much she cared about me, and truthfully, me about her. We had been together for a long time now. But this was definitely something I couldn’t discuss with her. "Brian?" She conveyed so much in that one word, but I shook my head.
"Just do it, okay, Deb?" I urged her softly. "I’m going to go take a shower."
She stared over at me for a few seconds before nodding, and as I walked away I could feel her eyes on my retreating form.
That Evening – Freeman Church – 3rd Person POV
What in the hell am I doing here? Claire thought to herself, as she stood several feet away from the church Emmett had told her about the other day. Night had fallen over the fairly deserted street located off the main drag in Manhattan, and numerous streetlights cast shadows over the buildings and the tree-lined sidewalk. She glanced around furtively, anyway, still thinking that at any second someone who knew her would recognize her, and wonder why she was sneaking around this area after dark. She didn’t know what possessed her to come here after talking to Emmett about her ‘dilemma,’ but she loved her son, and knew that if she were to continue a healthy relationship with him, she needed to understand why he was attracted to other men. She needed to find out more about ‘gay people,’ even though Emmett insisted they were just like everyone else. All she knew was that she loved her son; she just didn’t know, however, that she could go through with this. It felt way too much like an AA meeting, or going to a priest for confession.
As she walked closer to the steps of the impressive Gothic church, she noticed a young man wearing a baseball cap, sitting to one side, his legs bent and drawn up toward his chest; hearing a sound, he turned to peer over at her with a contemplative expression on his face. There was an earnest expression on his face that somehow emboldened her to approach closer to speak to him.
"Excuse me. Is this where…you know… people meet?" She noticed the young blond’s cap with the letters PFLAG on it, so she knew she had to be in the right place.
Justin eyed the woman curiously; despite her expensive, designer coat, her meticulously fashioned hair, and her perfectly manicured nails, he wasn’t that surprised to see her here. There were all walks of life inside the church; wealth and prosperity did not preclude anyone from feeling confused, dismayed, or even heartbroken over the fact that one of their loved ones was gay. Getting those feelings out in the open, however, and working through them was the most effective way to change minds and opinions about what many termed an ‘illness.’ He normally would be inside by now, leading one of the discussion groups. He came here every week to do that. But tonight, he had let someone else lead the talk; he couldn’t find the strength to go inside and face them. Perhaps there was a reason why he had stayed out here, he decided, as he peered up at her and half-smiled in response to her statement.
He nodded. "Yes. This is where the PFLAG meetings are held. You can go on in; they’re just getting started." He watched as she stood there, seemingly in indecision; it wouldn’t be the first – or last – time he had seen someone do that. Everyone had their own reaction to PFLAG meetings: some derided them, some tolerated them, and some ridiculed them, while others welcomed them. Through the shadows cast from the streetlamp nearby, he could clearly see the reluctance on the woman’s face. "Something wrong?" he asked softly, releasing his legs to stretch them out in front of his body to lessen some of the stiffness from having sat in the same position for too long.
Claire gazed down at the young man perched a few feet away; there was something about him that made her want to confide in him, a complete stranger, as she admitted, "I don’t think I can go in there." She let forth with a nervous laugh. "I’m not sure I even belong in there."
Justin smiled in understanding. "I’ve heard that before," he told her.
Claire nodded. "So…you’re one of them?"
Justin chuckled over her phrasing. "Yeah, I’m afraid so," he told her congenially. He scooted over a little more on the steps as he asked her, "Want to join me?" Sensing her hesitation in sitting on the dusty landing, he quietly removed his jacket and placed it down on the ground next to him.
She didn’t know what possessed her to accept his invitation, but Claire decided this friendly-looking man was a safer and less confrontational choice then going inside, and she knew she needed help with her son, so she nodded, gingerly sitting down next to him.
"The name’s Justin," he told her, sticking his hand out toward her.
She hesitated a few moments before grasping his hand in hers. "Claire," she responded politely as he nodded. "So…are you a participant? A family member, or a friend?"
Justin shook his head. "No, neither, actually. Well, I guess in a way I AM a participant. I normally lead one of the discussions that take place inside…but today I felt like staying out here." He stared straight ahead, his mind still occupied on what had happened between him and Brian, before he turned back to face his new companion. "So if I may ask…what are you doing here? I’m assuming someone you know is gay?"
She sighed. "Yes. My son. Brad." She shook her head. "He was raised in a strict Catholic family. We’ve been Catholic for generations. My family helped build this city in a lot of ways through good old blood, sweat, and tears." She paused. "I had such dreams for him. Such high hopes. Now…"
Justin urged her quietly, "Now what?"
"Now he’s going to throw it all away…no children…no wife…" She shook her head. "I just don’t understand why someone would do that."
Justin studied her; it was obvious she was dismayed about it. "He told you he was gay?"
She shook her head. "No…not in so many words," she admitted as she fished inside her Louis Vuitton purse for a cigarette; she lit it up with a gold-toned lighter before she continued. "But he never takes any girls out on dates, and keeps mainly to himself. And he seems to be really good friends with a couple of other men. He never talks about any girls, or any dates he’s been on. I just…know." She sighed. "And I don’t know what to do about it."
"Well, there’s one thing you need to understand," he told her gently; he realized she wasn’t some bigot, but merely misinformed. She was miles away from his own father, who had disowned him years ago, and now treated him like he didn’t exist. "Being gay isn’t something you can cure, or change. It’s who someone is. Some gays don’t realize until they’re in their teens that they ARE gay; they just know they’re different somehow from everyone else. And even once they DO find out they’re gay, they can be subjected to taunts, ridicule, bullying, isolation…or even worse. That’s why some people might realize deep down that they’re attracted to people of the same sex, but they’re afraid of the repercussions if they come out and admit it to themselves…or to their family or friends."
Claire nodded, taking another drag of her cigarette. "You think that’s the case with my son."
Justin shrugged. "It’s possible. He may be denying his true identity to himself; or even if he does know that he’s gay, he could be afraid of what your reaction might be." He paused for a few moments before asking, "Is there a father in the picture? Siblings?"
Claire snorted. "His father is a do-nothing who only married me because he couldn’t find anything better…his words, not mine," she verified. "Once he found someone else to his liking, he dropped me like yesterday’s news. Good riddance, I say. He doesn’t have a thing to do with Brad, emotionally OR financially."
"I’m sorry."
"Don’t be," Claire told him. "I’m not. I never should have married the ass in the first place." She stubbed out her cigarette on the cement steps before studying the young man sitting next to her. "You seem perfectly sane," she observed. "Normal, even."
Justin chuckled slightly. "I am," he told her in amusement. "I’m just like you and everybody else. I just happen to be attracted to other men rather than women. But I have the same hopes, dreams, joys, sadness, and other emotion ups and downs just like everyone else. And so does your son. All he wants is for you to love him and respect his decisions in life…whether it’s his choice of a mate, his career, where he lives, anything. Just like any other child would want from their parent."
"It’s not that easy for me," Claire maintained. "I’ve…never been exposed to this sort of thing. What do I say when he DOES bring home some…some man as his boyfriend?" She shuddered, unable to help herself. "How am I going to handle that?"
"You handle it just like any other person he brings home…you get to know the person, not the label. Trust me, your son will love you all the more if you do."
"You’re saying he won’t love me if I don’t?"
Justin reflected on his own feelings toward his father. Despite how horrid his father had treated him – and their present estrangement – deep down he still loved the man. He didn’t respect him…but he still loved him for some insane reason, and he suspected that this woman’s son would feel the same. "No," he told her. "I think he’ll still love you," he told her. "But all the respect he holds for you will be gone. And your relationship will no doubt become strained."
"You sound like you speak from experience," Claire commented curiously, noticing a flicker of distress cross the young man’s face.
"I do," Justin whispered, the pain still raw, even all this time. "And I’m trying to avoid the same sort of thing from happening between you and YOUR son."
Claire considered his words. "It won’t be easy for me," she told him. "I still don’t understand how a man can…like another man."
"Fair enough," Justin replied. "And you don’t really have to understand. Just accept your son for who he is, and support him. The rest will come eventually. He’s still the same son he’s always been. But if you can learn to accept him for who is he, then he will be more inclined to include you in his life. Otherwise, you run the risk of driving him away."
She studied his words carefully as she peered into his face. "Like your father did?" she surmised astutely.
Justin swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes," was his simple response.
She nodded. "I’ll try. That’s all I can do."
"That’s all he will expect of you. Just knowing you will make the effort will mean the world to him. The rest of it you can both figure out as you go along." He watched as she pushed herself back up to stand. "I’m glad you stopped by," he told her with a small smile. "I wish more people like you would. Maybe if they did, there wouldn’t be so much misunderstanding and hate in this world. I hope you’ll come back," he encouraged her. "Even if it’s just for us to have another talk. I’d really like to see how it goes between you and your son."
Claire picked up her purse and slid it onto her shoulder. "I’ll think about it," she told him, still not sure she wanted to run the risk of someone she knew catching her attending PFLAG meetings. She paused after taking a step to leave. "Thank you, though, Justin. You’ve been a big help."
Justin smiled with nod. "You’re welcome," he told her softly. "Good luck."
With a nod, she turned and slowly walked down the sidewalk before eventually disappearing into the darkness, leaving Justin there on the steps, alone with his own thoughts.
Later that Evening…Justin's Apartment…Justin's POV
Feeling weary down to my bones, I slid my key into the lock and swung the door open; my melancholy thoughts were temporarily forgotten as Reggie came bounding up to greet me, his pig-curled tail wagging furiously in delight. "Hey, Buddy," I murmured, as I threw my keys down on my side table and squatted down to pet him. "Need to go out?" I asked, his tail wagging so much at my words that for the first time in a couple days I had to laugh. "I guess that's a yes," I decided, as I reached to grab his leash hanging on one of my coat hooks. Bending down to pick him up temporarily, I hooked the leash to his collar and headed out for his walk.
I deliberately avoided walking toward Central Park, choosing instead to travel in the opposite direction toward a smaller greenspace. I did not want anything at the moment to remind me of him. But who was I kidding? Just telling myself not to walk anywhere near the park because of him just made me think about him MORE. Since that night two days ago, I hadn't seen him since then; I suspected he was deliberately avoiding me AND our bench so he didn't have to face me. And truthfully, I wasn't sure that I wanted to see him. He had disappointed me for the first time since we had met. His treatment of one of my dearest and sweetest friends had been uncalled for, even if he WAS new to this lifestyle. Even if Emmett had been straight, it would have been unacceptable. He had acted like Emmett was an alien from another planet. Not to mention that he wouldn't even try on the ball cap I had given him. "He probably thought THAT was too gay for him, too," I muttered to myself. I sighed as I stopped to let Reggie take care of his business near one of the larger trees, perching on a cement ledge nearby as I swung my legs idly back and forth. Unfortunately, despite how disappointed I was in Brian, I had to admit the truth: I still couldn't stop thinking about him. Worse than that, I was afraid that I might be falling in love with the bastard.
"Oh, Reggie," I mourned as his large, bulbous eyes peered up at me. "What am I going to do?" I let out a deep sigh. "Come on; we'd better get back," I told him, the night serving to mask my presence but not my pain.
I immediately heard rattling in my kitchen as soon as I unlocked my front door several minutes later to enter, but I wasn't fearful; the rapid wagging of Reggie's tale as he scampered out to greet our 'guest' – and the cursing spewing nearby – alerted me to whom my burglar was, and despite my mood, I had to smile slightly in response. "It's customary, you know, to wait until people are HOME to visit."
Daphne came waltzing out with a glass of white wine in one hand, and her cellphone in the other. "I was just about to call you, I swear!"
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before," I grumbled good-naturedly as she walked up and kissed me on the cheek. She shivered. "Geez, Justin! Next time wear a REAL coat!"
I rolled my eyes as I followed her into the living room. "I was just out long enough to walk Reggie," I explained as she handed me her glass.
"Here, this'll warm you up; I'll go get the bottle and another glass."
I nodded as she walked away, taking a tentative drink before placing it down onto the coffee table in front of me. Even though I presently didn't feel much like having any company, I couldn't very well tell Daphne I didn't want her here. She was my dearest and best friend, and – like Emmett – had been there whenever I needed her. So I resolved to try and lift my mood while she was here – or at least act like I was happy, anyway.
I looked up and plastered on a smile as she walked back to me, Reggie clicking along behind her with a rawhide chew in his mouth; obtained, no doubt, from the cookie jar I kept on the counter. I groaned. "Daphne! I thought I told you no doggie treats after dinner. I'll have to wind up taking him out again – or risk having doggie diarrhea on my wood floor tomorrow morning."
She tsked tsked. "Oh, hush up! That's the turkey jerky treats, not a rawhide. He'll be fine. Besides, who can resist that pudgy face?" she asked, practically cooing at my dog.
I rolled my eyes as she studied me intently. "You're not just grumpy because you're cold, or I gave Reggie a treat," she decided. "What's wrong?"
I swallowed hard, feeling like someone who had been caught doing something they shouldn't have. "Nothing," I dismissed her. "I'm fine."
She squinted her eyes at me as if that would tell her more. "No, it's not. Something is bothering you; I can see it."
I barked out a nervous laugh that sounded hollow even to me. "What? Do I have 'sick' written on my forehead?"
"No…," she slowly replied as she continued to stare so intently at me that I actually felt uncomfortable. I averted my eyes and reached for my glass to take another drink. "No, it's not that. It's your smile."
I turned to look at her and DID smile slightly then. "My smile? Do I have something between my teeth? Bad breath? Come on, Daphne, tell me about the new guy at work. Have you two conducted any business between the sheets yet?" I teased her. But even to me I didn't sound like myself, and she recognized my diversionary tactic for what it was.
"No, it's what your smile isn't saying," she continued, ignoring my questions. She gasped in astute realization. "It's that guy, isn't it?" Her eyes narrowed with concern. "What did he do to you, Justin?" Her normally perky self suddenly disappeared, and her 'Dr. Daphne' mode emerged.
I took one more drink to steel myself before placing the now-empty glass down onto the coffee table with a little more force than I had intended. "Nothing," I tried to explain. "He…he did nothing." Something…everything… Against my will, my eyes began to tear up. I took a deep breath, still not able to meet my friend in the eyes, because she knew me way too well. "Uh…want something to eat?" I asked, beginning to stand up. But she promptly grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down.
"No, Justin," she told me firmly as she put her own glass down next to mine. "What I want is the truth. What did this guy do to you? You couldn't shut up about him the other day; now it's as if he doesn't exist. You never DID tell me what happened at dinner. He DID come to dinner, didn't he?"
I sighed, knowing there was going to be no way to avoid this conversation; perhaps I didn't want to. I snorted. "Yeah, he came to dinner, all right; and then he came after dinner. He really fucked me over."
She gasped, her eyes wide. "Oh, my God! You mean fucked you over as in fucked you over? Or do you mean he REALLY fucked you over?"
I didn't really have to answer her question, because as I looked into her eyes and she saw the pain there, she instantly knew.
"Oh, no," she murmured as she pulled me closer to her. "The two of you actually fucked after dinner? You told me you didn't even know if he was gay!"
I laughed derisively. "Oh, he's gay, all right. He might not have ever fucked before, but he's definitely gay. I fucked him…and then he fucked me. In more ways than one." Again, my eyes teared up and my face clouded over as the pain washed over me, and the tears finally began to fall freely as my face crumpled and I gave into my emotions. "Daphne, he screwed me. He fucked me…he stayed the night with me…and then he left as if we had just conducted some sort of business meeting. And…and then when we finally met up again at the park," I took a deep breath as Daphne's fingers slowly stroked the skin around my wrist, "…then he embarrassed me around Emmett."
She frowned. "Emmett? How did he do that?"
I took another breath and let it out to compose myself as Daphne reached up with one hand to tenderly wipe my tears away, tucking some errant hair behind my ear as she stared quietly into my eyes, offering me the support that I so desperately needed. "Emmett, at least, didn't seem to notice. But when he ran into me at the park, I saw Brian staring at him when he sat down between us. And later he commented on what Emmett had been wearing, and asked me how I could associate with someone so 'gay.' And…and then when I tried to give him a gift," I told her as her eyes widened slightly more in surprise. I laughed in self-loathing as I explained, "It was just a Yankees ball cap. You know how I always like to wear one," I continued as she nodded. "Well, I tried to give him one, too, with his favorite team on it, and he took it, but very reluctantly. He said he 'didn't wear ball caps'." I shook my head as the tears fell more freely now as my heart was laid bare; I knew it wasn't the ball cap that was making me upset. "Daphne, he hurt me. God, he hurt me so much. I felt like some sort of experiment. And…and the worst thing is…"
"What?" she pressed softly.
I sniffled as she continued to wipe my cheeks with the pads of her fingers. "The worst thing is, I think I was falling in love with him. God, how stupid can I be?" I asked her. "I…I even asked Derrick to come over," I admitted as she sucked in a sharp breath.
"You mean…you asked him over to…"
I nodded in shame. "Yeah…I don't know why I did it. And I have no intention of continuing our relationship." I swallowed, hating myself for what I had done. "I used him, Daph," I choked out. "Just like Brian had used me."
"Oh, Justin," Daphne replied, her voice breaking as she pulled me into her arms and my head fell into her lap. I cried openly now as she slowly stroked my hair with her slender fingers. "Everything will be okay," she murmured soothingly as she tried her best to comfort me. "I'm not sure how," she admitted softly. "But it will. And I'll be right here with you."
I nodded, too overcome with emotion and weariness to reply. Soon, I gave into my exhaustion and fell asleep, my head still on her lap.
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Date: 2016-01-01 09:10 pm (UTC)Dee Dee
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Date: 2016-01-03 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-02 08:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-03 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-04 05:18 am (UTC)I know it's not the last chapter yet, but I already have to ask. Will you be continuing this fic out into their future?
Later Hon ~ Kathleen