Brian picture by Tadzio
____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 11: He’d watched him sleeping for a while; wanting to make sure the young man was okay. Brian had practically collapsed in his arms when the tears had eventually subsided. He was exhausted and Justin had been met with no resistance when putting him to bed. Making a bed up for himself on the sofa, Justin tried to sleep, whilst all the time keeping one ear open in case Brian should need him. The next morning, having showered, Justin was already dressed when Brian eventually woke. He could hear the blond on the telephone. “Hi Cyn, it’s me. I won’t be in the office today. I’ve got …. family business to take care of. No, everything’s fine, thank you. I just need a little time. I should be in again tomorrow. Sure. See you then. Bye”. Movement caught his eye and, looking up, he saw Brian getting out of bed. “Good morning. How do you feel?” he asked, climbing the steps. “Like an idiot. I’m sorry about what happened. I guess I’d had too much to drink or something”. “Look, I heard you say on the phone you had family stuff to do today, so I’ll get out of your way”. “Actually,” said Justin, quietly. “I was referring to you. Get cleaned up. We are going to talk”. Brian sighed. He could tell from Justin’s tone that he wasn’t going to let this go. Fifteen minutes later, he was freshly showered and dressed. He wasn’t looking forward to this. After everything that Justin had done, he knew he owed him, but there was still much he found too painful to talk about. Justin had fixed some toast and coffee and was sitting at the table, cup in hand. “Come and eat something”. Brian sat down opposite him, helping himself to the food on offer, more as a delaying tactic than to satisfy a hunger. Putting down his cup, the older man spoke. “Brian, I can’t just ignore what happened yesterday. You’d got yourself so worked up and upset. A lot of bad stuff has obviously gone on for you and I think it’s time you talked to someone about it. We can see if there’s a counsellor or someone at Social Services we can talk to…” Brian was horrified, “No fucking way! They never had time for me before, so why should I talk to them now?” he pushed his plate away, got up quickly from the table and walked across the room. “Okay, I understand you don’t want to talk to them, but how about me?” Justin got up and walked over to where Brian was standing and, putting a hand on his shoulder, turned the young man around to face him. "Whatever you say, I won’t judge you. I won’t even attempt to offer you any advice. I’ll just listen”. Trying to put the last 17 years into words, so that even he understood it, wouldn't come easy to Brian. How could it? His parents had never been interested in anything he’d had to say and none of the Social Workers had time to listen to him. Mikey had been the only person who had ever understood some of what was going on in his life, but they were just kids then. Brian wasn’t used to telling anyone how he was really feeling. He thought it made him vulnerable and to open up to Justin was probably one of the hardest things he’d ever do. That and he didn’t want to be pitied. But now, looking at Justin, he saw understanding in his eyes, not pity. He saw a willingness to listen, not judge nor condemn him. Brian took a deep breath and sat down on the sofa. “Okay. Like where do I start?” The words would have to be Brian’s own. Justin wasn’t going to prompt him. “Start wherever it’s easiest”. Slowly, as best he could, Brian began to tell Justin a little about his life. But how could someone who’d had a happy and secure childhood ever understand how it had been for him? Your parents are supposed to be the people who will always be there for you, no matter what; the ones you can depend on. Not a Father who’d never wanted you to be born in the first place and had used you as a punch bag: an almost daily occurrence, or a Mother who drank herself into oblivion virtually every night, neglecting to feed or provide for a young son. How could Justin understand what it had been like being taken into care? The feelings of utter despair at finding yourself removed from your family and familiar surroundings, however fucked up they were, resulting in the belief that you were the one to blame for your situation. That somehow, you deserved the beatings. After all, what punishment was ever metered out to Jack? How could someone who’d enjoyed a comfortable home life know how it felt to be forced to move on from one foster placement to another? Leaving you with no connection to anyone: unable to bond with, or to feel a part of, any family. And to go into details of how he ended up on the streets and how he survived was impossible. Besides, Justin didn’t need telling, he’d seen for himself. As Brian spoke, Justin had sat down beside him. He felt his heart breaking; listening to how the young man had been so badly hurt during his short life. Damaged by the very people who were supposed to protect and care for him. Brian’s head was bowed. He didn’t want to look at Justin, for him to see the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. But when he’d reached the point that was as far as he was prepared to go for now, he couldn’t prevent the sob, which escaped before he had a chance to prevent it. Justin placed his hand on Brian’s arm. “I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you to tell me all this. But I do know that you now have a choice. You have to decide where you go from here on in; what you plan to do for the rest of your life”. “Are you going to allow what’s happened to you so far to ruin the next 50 years or are you going to start afresh?” “It’s too late for any of that. I’ll never be anything. I’ll end up like my old man in dead end jobs: if I live that long”, the anguish in Brian’s voice could be clearly heard. “Brian, it’s not too late. You’re 17 for Chrissakes. You have the rest of your life ahead of you. Don’t write yourself off. You’re too smart for that. People can come back from the worst of situations. Believe me, I know”. These words were said with such conviction, such feeling, that Brian realised something serious must have happened in Justin’s own life. “How the hell would you know that?” he asked, looking at him. Justin linked his fingers together, placed them in his lap and spoke softly. “When I was 18, I was attacked whilst I was taking a short cut down an alley on the way home from school.” Brian closed his eyes. He was beginning to understand why Justin had come to his rescue that night. “I’d been fighting with this guy on and off for weeks. He kept throwing insults at me about my being gay. He just couldn’t accept that I was comfortable with who I was and he seemed to hate me for it. He’d tried to bait me, but I’d ignored him. He followed me home and attacked me with a plank of wood he picked up in the alley. I’d have been left for dead if it hadn’t been for some old wino who’d been sleeping in a doorway and saw what happened and called for help. As it was, I was in a coma for a couple of weeks and then about six weeks in rehab”. Without realising, Justin had started to rub his hand. “I still can’t draw properly. My hand packs up after about 10 or 15 minutes, which is why I have to use the computer for most stuff that I do now”. He took a deep breath and continued. “There were times when I wished he’d killed me. I’d always wanted to be an artist, and if I couldn’t draw, what would I do, what would I be? I’d never wanted to do anything other than art and it had been taken away from me, or so I thought at the time”. “Listen, only a couple of people know this and I’m only telling you so that you understand that it is possible to come back from such despair as I felt after this all happened”. Justin got up and walked over to the windows, looking down into the busy street below and spoke, keeping his back to Brian. “I even tried to kill myself. Would’ve succeeded to, if Daphne hadn’t walked in when she did. I’d got a whole bottle of painkillers that I’d saved up. Had them out on the table in front of me; them and a bottle of whiskey, and I’m sure if Daph hadn’t turned up when she did, I would have done it”. At last, Justin turned around to face him. "It is possible to come back, make something of your life. I've worked damned hard, but look at what I've achieved now. I've got a good job, still working with my art, this place, my son. It hasn't been a bed of roses. I thought my Dad was gonna kill me when I told him I was gay. He wouldn't speak to me for months, but eventually he had to deal with it. Either that or lose me altogether and I guess he didn't want that and then, after the bashing, he was one of the most supportive people I had around me". Brian didn’t know what to say, but realised Justin obviously trusted him, opening up to him like that. “I had no idea…” “That’s okay”, replied Justin, walking over and sitting back down beside Brian and he continued. "So, let's say you start again. What do you want to do? We could think about getting you back into school to start with". "Well”, said Brian. “I was always good at soccer. I made the school team and my coach reckoned I could've got a scholarship into Carnegie-Mellon on the back of it". “Then why don’t we see about getting you started back into school? See if you can go for the scholarship. We’ll go down later and get the forms, find out what you have to do”. “Hold on, this is all a bit fast. I said I could get a scholarship maybe, not that I wanted to”. Justin was exasperated. “For fucks sake Brian. What else are you going to do? If you want a decent job, a career, you’re going to have to get some qualifications behind you”. “Don’t push me!” Brian stood up; he’d had too much of people trying to tell him what to do, deciding for him how his life should be led and he was not about to let the blonde think he could do the same. “I’m not pushing you”, stated Justin. “Well, … yes, I guess I am a little. But only because I want to see you do okay. But the decision is yours”. Brian ran his fingers through his hair. “I need to think about all of this and I can’t do it here” and he headed for the door. “Brian!” Justin called after him. “Don’t bale out now. Christ, why do you always walk away when things get a little difficult?” But he wasn’t listening. He was being offered a future, but what would that future include. Justin? Was he part of the package? Brian couldn’t think clearly whilst he was around him. He needed fresh air and he’d walked several blocks before he realised where he was and he found Ricky in a greasy spoon that they often used. “Christ, Bri. Where the fuck have you been? Nikolai’s been going ape”. Brian slid into the booth and sat down opposite him. “I’ve been staying with a friend. Look Ricky, I’ve made up my mind. I’m not doing this any more and if you’ve got any sense, you’ll get out too”. He stood up, but his friend grabbed his arm. “Brian, you can’t go. I can’t do this without you. We’ve always sorta looked out for each other haven’t we?” Brian shrugged. He didn’t like the thought of deserting him, but it was time he did something for himself. “Brian, I’m broke. Look, Nikolai’s been asked to get a few kids together for a party tonight. Nothing heavy, but he said we’d get paid good. I need the cash, and I bet you do to. Or, this friend, is he a boyfriend? Is that it?” “No”, said Brian. “He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t do boyfriends”. “Look,” pleaded Ricky. “Just do this one thing for me. We’ll get a bit of cash together and I promise I’ll get a job, get away from Nikolai. Please. Brian?” Brian sighed. He didn’t like to let down a friend and it probably wouldn’t hurt to do this one last time. Besides, he didn’t like the thought of going back to Justin without any money at all of his own. He didn’t want to have to rely on him for everything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Later that evening, they arrived at the address Nikolai had given Ricky. He was already there, along with a few other kids he’d brought along and the party was in full swing. “About fucking time you showed up” Nikolai exclaimed, jabbing a finger at Brian. “Now get your asses inside and be good little boys”. The lights were low, the music loud and the air heavy with smoke. The men were mostly older and Brian felt extremely uncomfortable with so many pairs of eyes on him: undressing him. The host, an investment banker, with very expensive tastes and obviously the income to match, had instructed that they “mingle” among his guests. They were split up, and it wasn’t long before Brian and Ricky had lost sight of each other. So far, Brian had managed to fend off the attentions of the men in the group he’d been passed to. He’d been pawed at and fondled, but had managed to keep his clothing intact. This was worse than he’d been expecting and at the first opportunity, he was going to find Ricky and get them both out of there. Fuck the money. Pushing away the many hands trying to touch him, Brian eventually managed to extract himself from the group, saying he badly needed to use the bathroom. Passing from room to room, he searched for Ricky. Eventually finding him, half-naked and slumped on a bed upstairs. He managed to wake him, but his breathing was shallow and laboured and he was deathly white. “Ricky, come on. We need to get out of here” and he managed to pull him to his feet. Supporting his friend, Brian managed to get him to the bedroom door, but he was a dead weight and Brian knew he wasn’t going to get very far without help. He had to get Ricky out of there, but it would be a total waste of time trying to get help from any of the partygoers. They weren’t going to care about the welfare of some tweaked-out kid. Suddenly, he remembered he still had Justin’s card on him and setting Ricky back onto the bed, he grabbed the phone from the nightstand and called the loft. ‘Hi, this is Justin Taylor. I can’t take your call right now, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can’. “Shit”, the answer phone was on. Justin must be out. Quickly, he called Justin’s cell phone. After Brian had left, Justin couldn’t make up his mind what to do. Eventually, he’d decided to go and look for him and was on the road when the call came. Unable to identify who was calling him at this time, Justin answered. “Taylor”. “Justin, it’s me, Brian”. “Where are you, are you okay?” “I’m fine, but my friend is in trouble. I think he may have O.D.’d. He doesn’t look too good”. “Where are you?” “Fuck. I can’t remember. I came here with Ricky. Wait,… I know………It’s one of the new Waterfront places”. “What the fuck are you doing there? Never mind, tell me later. I can be there in less than 15.” Brian struggled, but managed to remember the rest of the address and, true to his word, Justin pulled up outside in under 15 minutes. He ran up the steps to the front of the house. The door was open and pushing his way through the crowded room Justin called out Brian’s name, trying to be heard over the music. Searching through the blue haze, a combination of tobacco and marijuana, he eventually found Brian half-carrying, half-dragging, Ricky down the stairs. “Christ Brian, we need to get him to hospital straight away”, and he took some of the young man’s weight. But before they could get to the door, a large bulk barred their way. Brian pushed passed him. “Fuck off, Nikolai”. “Where do you think you’re going?” and he grabbed Brian’s arm, but Brian shook him off. Justin squared up to him. “We’re getting this kid to hospital, so get out of our way”. “The fuck you are. Get your asses back in here”. Justin shoved him aside. “I bet you’re responsible for this, so if you don’t want a dead kid your hands, you’ll get out of the way”. Nikolai could see the blond was angry and he moved away from the door. And, between them, Brian and Justin carried Ricky to the car. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Allegheny General Hospital was the closest. “It looks like GHB, but we’ll know for sure when the test results come back. Did you see how much he took?” The doctor looked tired. Ricky wasn’t the first kid in tonight suffering from an overdose. “No, I wasn’t with him,” answered Brian. “Okay. We’ll do what we can, but I have to say, he doesn’t look good. Do you know how we can get in touch with his next of kin?” Brian shook his head. “He’s a street kid,” said Justin. “Well, we’ll inform the Police. You never know, he may have been reported missing”, and the doctor walked away, leaving Brian and Justin in the corridor. “This is my fault”, said Brian, moving closer to the window to watch. The medical team were working on Ricky and it was obvious by their frantic actions that they now had to work hard to keep him alive. “Whoa. How do you make that out?” Justin moved closer and put his arm around Brian’s shoulders, trying to comfort him. “You didn’t give him the drugs. It’s not your fault”. “I know,” answered Brian. “But if I hadn’t said I’d do this with him, this wouldn’t have happened. It was going to be the last time, for both of us. Ricky promised he’d get out as well”. Justin decided to risk asking the question. “Does that mean you’ve made your mind up?” Brian nodded. “I’ll go back to school. You’re right, I have to try to make something of myself; be somebody. I don’t want to end up like Ricky”. And they watched silently whilst the nurse closed the curtains as the monitor flatlined. To be continued.