January 2019, Kinnetik

 

“I want you in my life,” Joan drops the bomb from her seat on Brian’s office couch. 

 

This is the last thing Brian expected her to say after adjourning his morning staff meeting because his mother - who he hasn’t seen in years - showed up at the reception desk fifteen minutes ago. Astonished by her statement, he envisions echoing her words with a sour expression, in a high-pitched tone, but pretends to check his calendar instead and snarls, “To do what? Go to Boozeland?” 

 

“You’re my son,” Joan counters defensively. 

 

“I am?” Brian questions lightly, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed in front of him. He’s not really joking. She’s pretty much avoided him ever since she tried to save him from hell during his cancer scare. 

 

Joan sighs, loudly. 

 

The scene is awfully familiar. It makes him feel like that little kid who’d rebel just to get her attention, praying she would finally show him she loved him no matter what.

 

“I want to spend some time with you for a change, to… reconnect.” she insists, piercing Brian with her stare. He avoids her gaze by walking around his desk, though he doesn’t sit down. “We’ve lost so much time.”

 

“And whose fault is that, huh?” Brian can’t help but snark. Riffling through some paperwork and making a mess of it, he barks out a laugh. “You don’t need me. You have God.” 

 

She doesn’t take the bait. In fact, as he peers at her with a puzzled frown, the silence dragging on, her shoulders sag. She looks away, uttering the tiniest, saddest whimper - how the fuck does she manage that? - he has ever heard. 

 

Fuck. She’s good, seemingly giving up the fight while making him feel like a complete jerk. If he wasn’t so set on expecting the worst from her, he would believe she is genuine about wanting to spend some time with him, however ludicrous that may be because, truly, she has no idea what it really entails. There’s no way Joan would last more than five minutes with Brian’s family, if that. He hasn’t forgotten how she feels about gays, about Debbie, about all the people Brian cares about and that she’d condemn without a second thought. He also hasn’t forgotten that brutal honesty is the most effective technique for making her understand that what she wants won’t benefit either of them, as well as the best way to get her to fuck off and leave him alone. 

 

So, with his best bullshit grin, Brian walks over to Joan and kneels in front of her. Once her eyes lock on his, he silently counts to five.

 

Raising one eyebrow, he intones, “I’m still a cocksucker.”

 

To her credit, the disdain she must feel doesn’t show on her face, although her hands whiten where they’re gripping the handles of her purse. And then Brian almost has a heart attack as she responds, “So am I.”

 

Instead of having a massive stroke - which would accurately reflect his shock at what she just said - Brian staggers to his feet, staring at her as if she has turned into a porny version of Mrs. Claus.

 

“Don’t look so shocked,” she advises, chuckling nervously.

 

“I’m not…” He has to explain his reaction somehow; he can’t remember the last time she caught him off guard like this. Maybe he should be happy that they finally have something in common, but sharing tips about the best way to perform a blowjob is noton his radar.

 

“Even an elderly woman can have a sex life, Brian. It can be… very satisfying.”

 

It’s official. His seventy-five-year-old mother has completely lost her mind. And by the looks of it when he invites her over for dinner a week later, so has he.

 

***

 

Pittsburgh International Airport, Sunday

 

Brian always waits for his son in the same spot, an isolated chair well back from the arrival gates, so he isn’t surprised to hear a voice call out to him while he’s still busy scrolling through the email on his phone.

 

“Hey, old man.” 

 

Gus’s greeting is met with a snicker. Brian may be forty-seven and have gathered a lot of experience over the years, but he’s not decayed yet, thank you very much.

 

“My magnificent, prepubescent, soon-to-be-disinherited progeny,” Brian counters, smirking at his son before turning off his cell and standing up. 

 

“I’m not prepubescent anymore,” Gus argues. 

 

“And yet, I’m still taller than you,” Brian teases as he briefly places his hand around Gus’s neck before grabbing his duffle bag.

 

“By an inch.” Gus rolls his eyes. 

 

“How was your flight?” 

 

Gus shrugs, following his father toward the exit. “Boring.”

 

“Toronto?”

 

“JR is fifteen,” Gus intones as if that explains everything. 

 

“Wow,” Brian drawls, “she is so much younger than you.”

 

Snorting, Gus playfully slaps his father’s arm with the back of his hand. “She definitely is. Besides, she doesn’t live with you.”

 

Brian lets out a laugh at his son’s reasoning. Gus moved in a couple of years ago, after going through a ‘phase’ and practically dropping out of school, prompting Lindsay to beg Brian to take him in. Brian agreed, unsure he would be able to help his son. In the year following Gus moving in, the teenager threatened to go back to Toronto every other week, playing on Brian’s insecurities about being an unfit parent.

 

One day, following another hurtful argument, Brian took him to Joan and Jack’s old house, the one he grew up in, to share a part of his past he hadn’t shared with anyone before. He told his son he was a fucked-up kid whose mother expected him to be someone he wasn’t, whose father resented him for being born. He also admitted he never expected to have a son of his own, much less to love him. 

 

While Gus stayed silent at his side, fidgeting and smoking his third cigarette, Brian stared at that house that represented so much more than just four walls and a roof, concluding, “I love you more than you’ll ever know. But if you decide to fuck up your life for whatever fucked-up reason, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

 

He’d never told Gus he loved him before, not since he was a young boy. After a silent ride home and an afternoon of staring contests in the loft’s living room, Gus started speaking, telling his father what he had only shared with one person before. After that day, Gus never talked about going back to live with his moms. 

 

Now, he lives on campus but comes home at least twice a week, if not more often. Brian doesn’t necessarily understand why his son isn’t like those kids who believe ‘parents suck, and not in a good (mind-blowing) way’ but he’s not complaining. He likes having Gus around, Mikey still pestering him about every detail of his life, and Debbie occasionally stopping by to smoke pot and play mother hen. Ted still works for him, but he doesn’t see Emmett as much as he used to. 

 

And maybe Brian’s never had a ‘significant other’ since Justin and he parted ways years ago, but he doesn’t care. The artist is still a part of his life. He is the one Brian calls when he can’t sort out something by himself, the one he confides in whenever he’s unsure of what he’s doing. Over the years, even more so since Gus moved from Toronto, they’ve developed a friendship Brian’s pretty sure nobody really understands, but it’s not like he gives a shit if they do or not.

 

He should call Justin about his mother, but he isn’t ready just yet. Regardless, he can’t keep it a secret from Gus so, as he exits the airport and turns up his collar to protect himself from the harsh, cold wind, he announces, “Joan will be joining us Friday night.”

 

“Joan, as in your mother?” Gus frowns, striding along beside his father to the parking lot. “Since when is she interested in you?”

 

“Since she’s sucking an old dick.” Brian responds quizzically.

 

Gus is obviously bewildered by his father’s succinct explanation. “Isn’t she too old for that? She’s what… ninety or something?”

 

“Fuck off. She’s not thatold.” Brian scowls, taking the keys to his Mercedes from his pants pocket and opening the trunk. “She’s seventy-five.”

 

Gus snorts and places his backpack inside while Brian adds the duffle bag. “That’d explain a lot. I mean, if your mother still gets laid at her age, there really must be something special about us when it comes to sex…”

 

“Hey!” Brian immediately protests. “We,” he points at his son and himself, “didn’t inherit anything from my mother.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Gus gives his father a speaking look. “Does she even know you have a son?” 

 

“Probably not.” Brian shuts the trunk and throws the keys at his son, striding toward the passenger door. “I never told her.”

 

Gus grabs the keys and slides into the driver’s seat next to Brian. Peering sidelong at his father, he notices the sober expression on his face. “Okay. I’ll be there on Friday night.”

 

Brian shakes his head, rubbing his eyes to hide his uneasiness over the fact that not only will he see his mother in a few days, he will also introduce her to the person who means the most to him. “I should cancel.”

 

“Don’t.” Gus shakes his head. “No matter what, she’s reaching out and that’s huge. If she doesn’t behave, we’ll make sure she remembers this particular dinner for a long time to come.”

 

Brian’s lips curl upward. “For now, focus on the road. I want us home in one piece.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Gus salutes sloppily and turns on the car.

 

***

 

As soon as his father goes upstairs - he bought the apartment downstairs and combined it with the loft a few years ago - Gus walks to his room, flops down on the bed, grabs his phone, and calls Justin. The blond answers after two rings, though Gus doesn’t let him say anything, blurting, “What are you doing next weekend?”

 

Justin sardonically retorts, “Hello, Justin, how are you?”

 

“Justin, it’s important,” Gus insists.

 

“Nothing planned yet...” Justin responds, eyeing the two middle-aged delivery men entering the San Francisco gallery and following them when he notices they’re heading the wrong way. 

 

“Well, then, you need to come back as soon as you can.”

 

“What? Why?” Justin frowns, his eyes still on the two men. “Has Debbie decided on another butt-naked parade after the Christmas one at Woody’s?”

 

“Dad didn’t tell you?” Gus questions in surprise.

 

“Tell me what?” Justin asks in annoyance, realizing the delivery guys have no clue where they need to go with the large painting they’re carrying. “Hold on…” He points at one corner of the room, addressing them, “That one goes over there.” Once he is satisfied they’re not going to mess it up, he resumes, “You were saying?”

 

“His mom paid him a visit.”

 

“Who?” 

 

Gus clarifies, “Dad agreed she can join us for dinner on Friday.”

 

“...” 

 

When Gus realizes Justin isn’t going to regain the power of speech anytime soon, he calls out, “Justin? You there?”

 

“Brian couldn’t have agreed to that. He hates her,” Justin argues, both because it’s true and because they’re talking about the woman who accused her son of being a pedophile. So maybe Brian doesn’t really ‘hate’ her for whatever reason, but Justin sure does.

 

“Maybe he’s been brainwashed, because he definitely has invited her.” Gus contradicts him.

 

Justin rationally knows Joan Kinney didn’t coerce her son into seeing her and that he should back up Brian on this. He isan adult, which doesn’t prevent him from asking half-seriously, “Did she blackmail him?”

 

“No,” Gus chuckles. “She said the magic words.”

 

“Which are…?”

 

“What do you think? What could she say that would convince my dad to give her a chance?”

 

Honestly, Justin can only think of a few explanations, and the first and most satisfying one is, “I’m dying? Please forgive me for being an ungrateful, spiteful, pathetic, insufferable bitch?”

 

No luck. “Try again.”

 

“You were adopted?” - the next best theory.

 

“Jesus, Justin, you hate her more than he does.” 

 

“What did she say?” 

 

“I have sex…”

 

“What? I know you have sex, makes your dad proud. Why do you…”

 

“Not me, you idiot. Sheis having sex.”

 

There are so many things wrong with that announcement. “She can’t have sex. She’s a dinosaur.”

 

“And yet, she does.” Gus deadpans, obviously pleased with his revelation.

 

Refusing to think any further about Brian’s mother engaging in sexual activities of any kind or about how the brunet must be feeling after so many years without any contact, Justin calls out, “Gus...”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Take care of your dad, okay?”

 

Gus makes a weird noise, eventually muttering, “Dad would so have my ass if he knew we were plotting behind his back for his well-being.”

 

“Right. Having a son and a friend who care about you is so tedious, I agree.”

 

Gus doesn’t acknowledge Justin’s words, but the artist hears the smile in his voice as he mumbles, “Smartass,” and hangs up.

 

***

 

Tuesday night

 

“How was your evening, dear?”

 

“I’m beat.” Justin is lying on his hotel room bed, feeling kind of drowsy. He yawns, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes and staring at a tiny grey spot near the ceiling chandelier while holding his phone to his ear.

 

“You do sound tired.” 

 

“I hate opening nights and all those pretentious morons who either try to get into my pants or explain to me the deep meaning in my art.” Justin rubs his face and squints. He is exhausted. He’s been working on twelve paintings for the San Francisco exhibit for weeks. The opening may be over, but he still needs to talk to several art critics tomorrow. And he also needs to make Brian talk to him about his mom. 

 

“Only you can talk about generous contributors ready to spend thousands of bucks on your work as if they were just ordinary schmucks.”

 

“I’m an artist; I need to live up to my reputation.” Justin plays along. “What about you?” 

 

“What about me?” Brian answers too quickly. 

 

Justin rolls his eyes. “Anything you want to tell me?”

 

Brian doesn’t reply immediately, but the brunet puts two and two together pretty quickly. “Gus told you.”

 

“That your mother contacted you? Yeah, he told me.”

 

“And?”

 

“And, I don’t know... Are you okay?” Justin can’t help it. He’s worried.

 

Ignoring Justin’s question, Brian shares, “I don’t know why she’s reaching out after all this time. I should have told her to fuck off.”

 

“But you didn’t.”

 

“No, I didn’t.” The words are quieter, making Justin ache to be next to Brian. “Can we pretend she doesn’t exist, especially when I’m about to go out and hopefully find a good fuck? Joan made me hard once, but it’s not fucking likely to happen twice.”

 

“She made you hard?” Justin echoes with a small chuckle. 

 

There is a pause at the other end of the phone. Eventually, Brian breathes out, “Yeah, you know… after my cancer scare.” 

 

It’s always strange to talk about that time, when they were together. Justin remembers his twenty-year-old self, being so in love with Brian, and wanting to protect him at all costs. Not that he doesn’t want to do that now, too.  

 

“I need to go.” Brian announces. “I told Gus I’d pick him up at the diner, and he just texted me.”

 

“I care about you. You know that, right?”

 

The words are out before Justin even thinks about them. He does that sometimes. They broke up ages ago and, yet, Justin sometimes feels that they’re closer now than when they both agreed that a long-distance relationship wasn’t for them. The blond has had several boyfriends over the years but, after twelve years of failed relationships, he is ready to give up. Occasionally, he wonders what would have happened if he and Brian hadn’t decided that maintaining a long distance relationship was an issue they couldn’t resolve. Although Justin probably wouldn't share the special bond he has with both father and son if they had sacrificed a part of who they were to be together. 

 

That doesn’t mean that once in a while, Justin doesn’t again feel like his younger self, however. And at times like these, it’s hard not to be there when Brian needs him.

 

“I know,” the brunet replies.

 

“I care about you.” Justin repeats once more, making a decision regarding Brian’s mother. 

 

“Not fair, Sunshine,” Brian whispers affectionately before disconnecting the call.

 

***

 

Friday morning

 

“So, where are we going?” Michael demands as he pushes the door of the comic book store shut and dons his gloves and scarf, trying to keep the cold at bay. It’s been snowing for two days, albeit sporadically, leaving the roads covered with a thin layer of white powder.

 

“To see Brian’s mother,” Justin reveals, his breath visible in the chilly air as he gestures at his car. “I’m parked over there.”

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Michael inquires as he joins his friend.

 

“I’m dead serious. She went to Kinnetik last week.”

 

“To tell Brian she wanted to be a part of his life again.” Michael nods. “Yeah, I’m aware since Brian stopped by the store a couple of days ago. Is that why you flew in from San Francisco, though? To confront her?” 

 

Justin rubs his hands together, trying warm them up. “Gus called me.” he says by way of an explanation.

 

Michael stares at Justin. “Gus is always calling you whenever he has a problem, especially if his dad is involved.”

 

Justin shrugs, ignoring Michael’s not so subtle attempt to talk about his and Brian’s relationship. 

 

Fortunately, Michael doesn’t push. Gazing at a tow truck winching up a snow-covered Chevrolet, he discloses, “Anytime I went to Brian’s house when we were kids, I wanted to leave as fast as possible.”

 

“What was it like?” Justin questions as they arrive at the rental - a deep blue Mustang - crunching across the snow to the driver’s door.

 

Michael slides into the passenger seat. “It was… I don’t know how to explain it. Like Brian didn’t really exist, if that makes sense. His mother gave me the creeps because she was always so distant. I’m not sure I saw her smile once.”

 

“And his father?” Justin probes, before turning on the car to warm it up.

 

“He was either sprawled out on the sofa watching sports - baseball, football, whatever - or out with his buddies. He took us bowling once. Not that I recall much, because we were only fourteen years old. I had a great time that day, but Brian would tell you otherwise.”

 

Knowing how badly Michael missed a father growing up, Justin isn’t surprised by the man’s confession. “I’m sure he would.” he concurs. As he listens to the engine purr, he looks up to see a young man running across the street, almost falling on a slick patch of ice. After a minute, when the windshield has cleared enough for him to pull into traffic, he requests, “I need you to tell me where to go. I have no idea where she lives.” 

 

“Take a right there.” Michael points toward an upcoming cross street when Justin stops at a red light, bright rays of sunshine flooding the Mustang. The blond riffles through the glove box for his pair of shades, while Michael lowers the visor to protect his eyes from the sun, asking, “Are you sure she hasn’t moved, though? She could have sold the house.”

 

“No clue,” Justin admits, realizing Michael has a point. 

 

“Let me check if she’s in the white pages.” Michael grabs his phone, takes off his gloves, and starts typing while Justin pulls over. After a minute, the brunet declares, “You’re in luck. It seems she still lives there. 123 Elmett Street.”

 

Justin nods and enters the address into his GPS. Once the coordinates are geolocated, he puts the vehicle back in motion. 

 

“So, what’s the plan?” Michael questions, leaning back in his seat after returning his phone to his jacket pocket.

 

“To make sure she won’t be a cunt this time.”

 

“You mean, as opposed to the day she walked in on you and Brian fucking and discovered her son was a spawn of Satan?” Michael jests sardonically.

 

“Yeah,” the blond confirms, remembering how fast Brian’s mother had run from the loft the day they used Ted’s Viagra. Justin had been too young and self-centered to comprehend how badly she hurt her son that day, however.

 

“And you want me with you to confront her because?” Michael questions.

 

“Because you know her. You’ll know if she’s bullshitting me or not.”

 

Michael nods a couple of times and takes a deep breath, no doubt dreading seeing Brian’s mom again, especially since his best friend is not aware they’re doing this. When Brian learns that they decided to pay his mother a visit without his permission, he’ll undoubtedly be pissed. But doing nothing and watching a disaster unfold is not an option, especially with Michael now Justin’s partner in crime. The brunet has a better grasp of Brian’s childhood than anyone else the blond knows; his presence means he is worried too, and that Justin has made the right choice in deciding to abide by Gus’s wishes.

 

The rest of the ride is made in silence. After they reach Elmett Street, the blond parks the car a little ways from their destination but still with a good view of the house. Killing the ignition, he stares at Brian’s former home for a moment, glancing around the neighborhood, anxiety coursing through his body as he envisions the little boy Brian once was on the porch, or biking down the sidewalk. 

 

“It’s so weird to be here,” Michael’s voice breaks into his reverie. “I doubt I came more than a dozen times, usually to pick up some stuff so we could sleep at ma’s. Brian never wanted me here unless he thought his parents would be out.”

 

“His parents didn’t care what he did?” Brian didn’t become the man he is for no reason, but his relationship with his parents is still hard to fathom for Justin. Sure, his own father won’t be elected parent of the year anytime soon, but at least he didn’t fuck him up as a child. He’s just a homophobic asshole.

 

“Not really.” Michael shrugs. “Except to tell him he was an ungrateful shit when he refused to do whatever stupid chores before leaving with me, they didn’t say much while I was there. And once Brian moved out, I never saw them again. Well, except when his father died.” 

 

“That’s fucking depressing,” Justin growls, a rush of anger overwhelming him. 

 

“Do you know that his father asked him for money whenever he saw him, once Brian starting earning a paycheck? Every single time, Brian gave in. He even paid part of his hospital bills. And for his funeral.”

 

Brian had mentioned that Michael was his anchor when he was younger and needed someone to lean on when his parents threw shit at him, so Justin isn’t really surprised by his friend’s revelation. Besides, he has no trouble believing Brian would do something like that. 

 

Michael sighs, and shares sadly, “I wonder sometimes how things would have turned out if his folks hadn’t been so...” his voice trails off. “It’s a good thing he met you.”

 

Justin gazes over at Michael, wondering what he means by that.

 

He’s about to voice his question out loud when the brunet opens the door. “Come on,” he says, “time for an intervention.”

 

Justin stares after Michael and finally climbs out of the car, the fresh air immediately hitting his face. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Michael concurs, hugging his jacket closer to his body as he trudges up the walkway.

 

Justin stops, taking a look at the hell house. Then, he follows Michael, leaping the few stairs leading to the porch, and halts at the front door. He shares a look with the brunet as he raises his hand, pausing in midair for a moment before he rings the bell. The bell chimes faintly from inside, while Justin wonders if Michael looked as shy and uncomfortable when he came here with Brian more than thirty years ago. 

 

Exchanging a look with Justin when nobody answers, Michael presses the doorbell just as a voice shouts, “Coming!” from the other side of the door. It’s not a woman’s voice, though, which is confirmed when a man who must be in his seventies opens the door. He’s quite thin, as tall as Brian, with thick, white hair and clear, blue eyes. His gaze is friendly, if a little puzzled, as he greets them. “Hello.”

 

“Is Joan Kinney here?” Michael speaks before Justin can, obviously confused at having a man he has never seen before answer the door.

 

“She’s upstairs. Joan?” he calls over his shoulder. “Someone’s asking for you.” He smiles at Michael before looking at Justin.

 

“And you are?” Michael inquires after a few awkward seconds with none of them saying anything.

 

“I’m Charles.”

 

“Charles, who are you talking to?” a woman inquires as they hear footsteps approaching. Joan Kinney finally appears at the man’s side, looking the same as Justin remembers, only older. She seems surprised. 

 

“Hello, Mrs Kinney.” Michael intervenes when Joan and Justin keep staring at each other.

 

Joan directs her gaze at him, looking him up and down. “Michael?”

 

“It’s me,” the brunet says in a jesting tone, “just a little older.”

 

Joan seems unfazed, simply glancing back at Justin. The blond has no idea what she’s thinking and is momentarily thrown by her resemblance to Brian. 

 

“Would you like to come in?” Charles offers, indicating the living room with his hand, probably hoping Joan will stop staring at Justin. “Joan?” he speaks louder, his voice tinged with a hint of exasperation.

 

“Sure. Come on in.” She finally breaks eye contact and steps back to let them in.

 

Michael is the first to enter. Hanging back, the blond briefly wonders if coming here was a mistake. But he has no time to dwell on it because Charles urges him in, the four of them heading toward two couches facing each other in the middle of the living room, with Charles and Joan taking seats next to each other, facing them.

 

Joan starts speaking, addressing Justin, “The last time I saw you, you were coming out of my son’s bedroom.” 

 

“And now I’m still coming inyour son’s bedroom.” Justin lies out of spite.

 

“Justin.” Michael warns, placing a hand on his thigh. 

 

The blond peers over at Michael, acknowledging sarcasm is probably not appropriate if he wants Brian’s mom to pay attention. 

 

“Mrs. Kinney,” Michael volunteers, “Brian told us you wanted to reconnect with him.”

 

“That’s correct.”

 

“Why?” Justin questions. “You’ve pretty much thought he was a godless pervert for the last fifteen years.”

 

Joan is taken aback by Justin’s admonishment. She obviously ponders how to respond, muttering quietly, “It’s… complicated.” 

 

“Then, explain it to us.” Michael argues. The blond peers over at him, noticing his friend seems as uncomfortable now as he must have been in this house as a teenager, yet is determined to back him up. 

 

Justin then focuses his attention back on Joan. She looks away, abruptly standing up and walking over to a cabinet behind her. Opening a drawer, she retrieves a photograph and returns, leaning over to give it to Justin. 

 

The blond peers down at it, not understanding why she has given him a picture of a couple he doesn’t know. Surprisingly, there are two men on the photo, one of them vaguely familiar.

 

“Tom and Joshua. They’ve been happily married for six years now.” Charles declares proudly.

 

Justin frowns, and glances up at Joan, who gives him a small nod. “A year ago, I was having lunch with a friend in that new restaurant on Howard Street after Sunday Mass, and I saw my former priest enter with two men, holding hands with one of them.”

 

“Your former priest?” Justin echoes quizzically.

 

“Yes...” she clears her throat, pointing at the photograph Justin is holding, “Tom. It’s him.” 

 

Justin bites his upper lip, silently studying the man Joan pointed at. He vaguely remembers Brian fucking a man who turned out to be his mother’s priest, and assumes it could be the same guy.

 

Joan’s eyes linger on Tom’s face. “I made a scene,” she reveals. “Right there in the middle of the restaurant. In front of my friend, the staff, strangers who were looking at me like I had lost my mind.”

 

Michael looks at Joan with renewed interest. Justin has to admit he’s curious, too, if not a little horrified.

 

“Charles was there,” Joan divulges, peering at her friend with a soft smile, the first genuine one since they arrived. “He’s a former doctor. He’s also Tom’s father and was there to celebrate his son-in-law Joshua’s birthday. Let’s say I made quite an impression when I accused his son of fornicating with the devil, especially when I ended up having a stroke.” 

 

Assuming she’s fine since he hasn’t noticed anything wrong with her, Justin can’t help but rail, “If you ever wanted proof that God didn’t approve of the way you treat your own son, he made his message clear.”

 

“I guess so.” Joan stares at Justin.

 

“You’re obviously friends now.” Michael intervenes, indicating Joan and Charles.

 

“We are,” Charles confirms. “More than friends actually. Joan is my partner.”

 

Justin lets out a dry chuckle. “So let me get this straight. You have a stroke, fall in love with your savior, fuck him…” He ignores the way she looks at him when he says that, and Michael’s gasp, continuing without missing a beat, “...and decide what? That it is God’s way of giving you a second chance so you can make amends with a son you treated like trash?”

 

Although Joan looks shocked by his boldness, Justin expects her to argue with him. In fact, he’s counting on it. But just as Brian’s mother is about to reply - no doubt to tell him to fuck off as politely as she can - Charles places a hand on her thigh, saying her name warningly, “Joanie.” 

 

Joan frowns and peers over at him, as he silently cautions her to stay calm. Reluctantly, she nods, returning her attention to Justin. “Listen, I don’t expect you to trust me.”

 

“Good, because I don’t.” Justin assures her.

 

She ignores his retort. “All I can say is that thanks to Charles, I realized I’ve failed Brian as a mother.”

 

As if it was that simple. “You told him he was going to burn in hell.” Justin reminds her.

 

Joan looks away, and if Justin wasn’t so set on protecting Brian, he would almost feel sorry for her. “I told him God gave him cancer to punish him,” she unexpectedly reveals.

 

“You what?” Michael exclaims, flabbergasted. 

 

Charles squeezes her hand, and gives her a small nod of encouragement. Justin realizes they must have talked about this before, especially since Charles’s son was once a priest. They’ve probably spent a lot of time trying to understand her conviction that God rejected gay men as an abomination. 

 

“Joan was wrong,” Charles states firmly, gazing at Michael. “She knows that now.”

 

Justin shakes his head, thinking about that time he visited Brian at the loft a couple of years ago. They were smoking pot, sprawled out on the cushions near the couch. Justin had just learned from Emmett that one of the new busboys at the diner, who was battling cancer, was thrown out of his home by his parents because he was gay.

 

Lying on his back with Justin by his side, Brian took a drag and watched the smoke evaporate in the air. “Haven’t you heard? Cancer is God’s way of punishing fags.”

 

Justin laughed, propping himself on his elbow to look down at the brunet, “Why do you say that? Your mother never knew you had cancer.”

 

Brian’s hand stilled with the joint only a couple of inches from his lips. “Saint Joan fervently believed cancer was God’s gift to punish me for being gay - and that in his infinite wisdom, he gave me a second chance so that I could bask in pussies.”

 

“She told you that?” 

 

“Yeah…” Brian said, finally placing the joint between his lips, inhaling deeply, and peering over at Justin. “It seems I’m going to burn in hell for all eternity. But I won’t be alone.” His eyes softened as he uttered that last bit and pushed Justin onto his back, passing the joint to him.

 

It was the last time Brian mentioned his mother and, as Justin glances at her, he can’t help but think that even if she truly has changed, she can’t expect her son to forgive her after having treating him like that.

 

His own mother.

 

“He doesn’t need you.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“He’s happy.”

 

“I’m glad he is.”

 

“He doesn’t need you.”

 

“Justin,” Joan uses his name for the first time, “I understand you want to protect him. And it reassures me to know that my son has people in his life who… genuinely care about him. But Brian is his own man, and I don’t think it should be your call if I’m part of his life or not. If he wants me gone, all he has to do is say so. Youdon’t have that right.”

 

Justin wants to tell her she’s wrong, but he can’t because she’s not. Ultimately, he can’t prevent Brian from spending time with her if the brunet wants to give her a chance.

 

He stares at Joan for a moment, the tension rising as she waits for him to make his disapproval clear. Instead, he stands up and waits for Michael to do the same. 

 

“I’m glad he has you as a partner,” Joan states as Justin moves toward the door.

 

He stills. “I’m not his partner.” 

 

“You’re not?” Joan inquires, searching for Michael’s face for confirmation.

 

Justin shakes his head. “No. But I don’t need to be his partner to promise you that if you hurt him again, I’ll make your life a living hell.” he says, before turning on his heel and leaving her house. 

 

***

 

Four p.m., Liberty Avenue

 

Joan has never set foot on Liberty Avenue, so when she enters the lively neighborhood, she prays to the Lord that she’ll be strong enough to handle it. Tom suggested they come here when she called him - upset and questioning the appropriateness of trying to reconnect with her son - immediately after Justin and Michael left her house. The former priest calmed her down, telling her that if she wanted to be sure she was ready to face her son’s world, she might as well begin by experiencing a bit of it.

 

Walking down the street next to Tom, she only half listens to his reassuring refrain. She’s busy staring at a black man who is dressed like a woman, parading down the sidewalk in her direction, his long, curly, blond hair flying in the cold wind. He’s wearing a full-length, leopard-pattern coat, open over a dark red turtleneck with a matching dark red scarf, his short leather skirt ending well above the highest heels Joan has ever seen. The elderly woman briefly wonders how can he even maneuver in those hideous red shoes.

 

The black man - or woman, Joan doesn’t really know what she is supposed to think - laughs at something the man next to her says. His white teeth, illuminated by his mischievous smile, are perfect. He catches a strand of blond hair and casually flips it back, while the other man places an arm around his shoulders and kisses his check.

 

Joan presses her purse to her body when the couple walks past her. 

 

She can’t help it. This world is not hers, and trying to accept and understand it is a challenge. She’s spent so many years locked up in her own beliefs, convinced they were the only correct ones. 

 

“You alright?” 

 

She looks over at Tom, having almost forgotten he’s there, and answers curtly, “I’m fine.” 

 

“We’re almost there.” 

 

“Almost where?” she questions with a frown, her voice betraying a hint of irritation. For some reason, she feels on edge, like she needs Tom to blame for what’s happening to her, even though it’s not his fault. She can’t blame God, and taking responsibility for herself has never been easy. It’s always been easier to fault Jack, or Brian, or Claire. 

 

That's also why she ended up alone, so she forces herself not to snap something accusatory as Tom responds, “I want to show you something,” and places his hand on the small of her back.

 

He guides her toward the small eatery on the corner. Peering up, Joan reads ‘Liberty Diner’ on the sign, right before Tom pushes the door open. A lively chatter fills the air as she follows him inside. 

 

Tom heads toward the third booth along the bank of windows, and Joan pauses for a moment, eyeing two young men sitting at the counter in matching wife beaters and black leather jackets, exchanging kisses. As she tries to suppress her anxiety, she casts a glance at the first booth, where a couple of women are laughing along with an effeminate teenager, who is gesticulating wildly, his hands flying. A waiter comes over to take their order, pad in hand. He’s tall and lean, reminding Joan a little of Brian when he was younger.

 

Brian. She keeps telling herself she wants to repair their relationship for Tom and Charles, but that’s not true. She’s doing it because the thought that her only son hates her has become unbearable. Maybe she’s also, unconsciously, trying to make amends with God. She never planned for her beliefs to be shattered because she fell in love at seventy-four, and reconciling her own faults with that reality is the most difficult thing she’s ever had to face. 

 

She cringes when she sees two men together. It’s not like she can stop herself. Ever since she was a child, she’s believed that loving someone of your own gender is terribly wrong. Even though meeting Charles has given her the strength to open her mind, she’ll probably always feels that hint of revulsion, no matter how much she fights it. That doesn’t mean, though, that she isn’t willing to fight against herself, and love her son like he deserves to be loved, gay or not. 

 

“Joan…” Tom calls her name, and she starts, realizing she zoned out for a minute. 

 

Frowning, she sits down opposite Tom. “Why did you bring me here?” she asks, without bothering to take her coat off or even to set her purse on the banquette.

 

Tom places a hand over hers, which are clasped together tightly in front of her. “I wanted you to see this place. Brian has been coming here since he was a teenager.”

 

“How do you know that?” She doesn’t withdraw, but his touch makes her heart pound. 

 

“I met him,” Tom discloses. “A long time ago. Back when I was a priest. You introduced us, remember?”

 

Joan needs a few seconds to recall Tom and Brian meeting after the church service. “You’re right.”

 

Tom clears his throat. “Well, we didn’t tell you, but we’d already met before that.”

 

From the look Tom gives her, Joan senses there is more to the story, but she isn’t sure she wants to know what.

 

“You discovered he was gay that week.” Tom continues. “And I don’t know exactly what you told him, but you hurt him.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“He confronted me. He wanted to tell you I was gay, too.”

 

Joan frowns, trying to remember more about that time. Discovering her son was gay came as a real shock to her. She truly believed he was going to hell, and the fact that he chose that path when he knew how much it would upset her had hurt her badly. She never once stopped to consider she had hurt him, however. Brian always acted like he didn’t care about anything but himself. 

 

Then again, he didn’t reveal Tom was gay. “He never told me that.”

 

“No. He didn’t.” Tom confirms and there is something in the way he says it that makes it hard for her to breathe. 

 

That’s the moment when her eyes land on a young man who is standing at the counter, obviously waiting for a takeout order. He is facing her, leaning nonchalantly with his elbows on the counter behind him and glancing toward the back of the diner. She can’t see his face properly, but she instantly notices the similarities. His nose is the same as her son’s. He has the same stance, appearing casual with the ‘I don’t care’ vibe she saw in Brian all through his teenage years. She briefly wonders how old he is. Probably twenty, though he seems a little older. 

 

Swallowing, she stands up from her seat, ignoring Tom when he gives her a puzzled look. She approaches the young man, halting in front of him. 

 

“What’s your name?” she questions, her voice surprisingly soft. 

 

He peers down at her, and she sees Brian again, in his face, in the way he looks at her. He doesn’t seem surprised, although he must be with an elderly woman accosting him in a gay diner. “Do I know you?” he simply responds, in that polite manner Joan has always liked in people, and that Brian never used. 

 

She doesn’t reply immediately and he quirks an eyebrow at her, most likely wondering what’s wrong with her. 

 

“My name is Gus.” he shares after a minute, taking pity on her. 

 

Her chest constricts as she takes in his expression, his lips curling slightly upward. He looks so much like Brian it’s uncanny. But she can’t say that so, instead, she steps back and lies, “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

 

Averting her gaze downward, she can’t leave fast enough. She doesn’t bother to wait for Tom, heading for the door. Once outside, she looks to her right, to her left, feeling her throat close against her will. She starts to breathe fast, her chest rising and falling too quickly. People are laughing nearby, and she recoils as a woman strides past. 

 

“Joan?” Tom appears at her side, grabbing her arm. “Are you alright?”

 

She escapes his grip, mumbling to herself as she looks around, at all the men and women walking down the sidewalk with their friends, girlfriends and boyfriends. “He didn’t tell me.” 

 

Tom frowns and tries to capture her attention by repeating her name, but Joan can’t stay there, so she walks away. Tom, with his longer legs, catches up with her easily. “Wait! Where are you going?”

 

She doesn’t slow down. Eventually, she pushes him away, “Stop following me!” 

 

She doesn’t mean to snap at Tom, but she is confused and doesn’t know how to deal with the feelings overwhelming her. She also doesn’t mean to walk for an hour and end up standing in front of Brian’s building at five-fifty p.m. She gazes up as the first drops of water start to fall from the sky, hearing that voice in her head snickering that she is such a horrible person that her own son never told her about his child.

 

She shakes her head, feeling the water running down her face, and she doesn’t know if it’s the rain or her own tears. But when a young man opens the front door and starts to run to his car, she doesn’t hesitate and sneaks inside the building.

 

***

 

The loft 

 

“You what?” Brian exclaims, placing a glass on the coffee table and staring at Justin in disapproval.

 

“I went to see your mom,” Justin repeats, his eyes following Brian as the man loosens his tie and goes to the cart a few feet away. He has debated all day about informing the brunet he visited his mother with Michael, and decided on full disclosure, asking Brian to meet him at the loft. 

 

“And why on Earth would you do something like that?” Brian interrogates him, removing the cap from the bottle and pouring himself a glass of Knockando.

 

Justin makes a ‘duh’ face at Brian’s question. 

 

“You shouldn’t have,” Brian reprimands the blond, shuffling back to the sofa, though he doesn’t sit down. 

 

“Your son is worried,” Justin reminds him, gazing up at Brian from his seat on the couch. “I’m worried.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” Brian insists, snatching Justin’s empty glass from his hands with a questioning rise of his brows and going back to the cart when Justin gives him a nod of assent. Sarcastically, he emphasizes, “I don’t need you, or Michael, or Gus to protect me from her. I’m a big boy. I can dress myself, put my shoes on, even do up the laces.”

 

Justin ignores his sarcastic tone, standing up. “Don’t you want to know what she said?”

 

Brian shakes his head, handing Justin his drink, frowning when the blond gulps it in one go and sets it down on the cart. “She’s coming over tonight, remember? So whatever you two discussed, I’m sure I’ll be informed soon enough.”

 

Justin breathes deeply, rubbing his face nervously before relenting, “Okay, Brian. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to see her behind your back. But I…” He stalls, his tone making Brian gaze over at him.

 

Whatever Brian sees in Justin’s expression makes him turn to face him with a knowing look on his face. “You what?”

 

Justin backs down, averting his eyes.

 

“I thought we agreed it was better this way.” Brian reminds the blond, pissed that he has acted without thinking, after they both agreed that they wouldn’t interfere in each other’s lives. “You can’t just do shit like this and expect me to be okay with it.”

 

“It won’t happen again.” Justin claims, brushing past Brian and moving toward the kitchen. 

 

Brian goes after him. Leaning against one side of the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed in front of him, he watches as the blond pulls cranberry juice out of the fridge and drinks straight from the carton.

 

“What?” Justin says when Brian doesn’t gaze away from him.

 

“How is James?” Brian inquires sardonically, referring to Justin’s latest boyfriend.

 

“Fuck off,” Justin answers with a roll of his eyes, sliding the juice back into the slot on the refrigerator door and slamming it closed before striding away toward the media room.

 

Through the glass panels in the kitchen wall, Brian watches Justin as the blond disappears down the hall and sighs. He is about to go after him when someone knocks on the front door. Frowning, he checks his watch and walks out of the kitchen and over to the door, wondering who is there. Gus would have used his key. 

 

Pulling the door open, Brian takes a step back, puzzled when he discovers his mother in the hall, completely soaked. 

 

“Mom,” Brian opens the door further, “you’re… two hours early.”

 

Joan ignores her son’s remark, and the brunet inwardly freezes when he sees the expression on her face.

 

“What?” he barks, her unexpected appearance in such a bedraggled state putting him on edge.

 

Joan takes a few steps inside, her wet shoes squelching against the floor. She gazes around, looking like she doesn’t even know what she’s doing there. Eventually, she turns around and states in an accusatory tone, “You have a son?”

 

Brian stills, his hand on the metal door. 

 

“You have a grown-up son, and you never told me about him?”

 

Recovering from the shock of her abrupt arrival, Brian approaches her, an unwanted anger overtaking him. “That was none of your business, mother.”

 

Joan stands her ground, both mother and son now glaring at each other. “I have a grandson.”

 

“Biologically, yes,” Brian confirms, his voice laced with irony. 

 

Joan’s expression hardens. “How could you hide that from me?” she persists, her voice cracking slightly as she takes a step closer to her son.

 

Brian barks out a sardonic laugh. “How could I?” he echoes, furious at her for thinking she has a right to be angry about his decision to keep Gus away from her, as if he’s hidden his son just to be cruel. He’s also angry with himself, for having forgotten that she will always assume the worst about him. “Jesus Christ, you haven’t changed at all, have you?” 

 

“Don’t try to…” Joan retorts, but Brian cuts her off. 

 

“God,” mimicking Joan’s voice, he says the words with as much venom as he can, “my son is an ungrateful shit. He needs to watch his mouth if he doesn’t want to piss off his old man.” 

 

He sees he has struck a nerve when she winces, almost imperceptibly. That doesn’t stop him from continuing, letting out years of disappointment and resentment. 

 

“God, my son has money but he’s selfish and shallow.”

 

“Brian stop.” Joan backs away, trying to avoid him, but Brian doesn’t allow it, following her when she recoils, his voice rising with every truth he spits in her face. 

 

“God, my son is a pervert who fornicates with the devil and sucks little boys’ dicks.”

 

Joan pales, squinting at him, and Brian almost smiles in satisfaction as he mentions John’s false accusation. She looks up at him, and he knows she’s remembering their confrontation at Claire’s, the day she declared him guilty without giving him a chance to explain himself. He’d be satisfied with her obvious shame and would maybe spare her the rest of his diatribe if he wasn’t so insanely angry.

 

“God, thank you for giving my son cancer and showing him the path to redemption.” His voice takes on a quieter, deadly tone now.

 

A couple of tears fall down on Joan’s cheeks, though she could be sobbing at his feet and Brian wouldn’t care. 

 

“God, my son has a son and hid him from me. How could he?” he concludes, grabbing her forearms as she closes her eyes. 

 

Joan leans on him, her fingers gripping him tightly, and he waits for her to open her eyes and gaze up at him before professing quietly, “You were supposed to love me, to protect me, but all you cared about was your precious God, and your stupid belief that pleasing him was all that matters. Well, you know what?”

 

He sees that last bit of hope in her gaze and knows exactly what she’ll feel when she leaves. His throat closes up against his will. 

 

He shrugs, his eyes boring into hers as he lets her go and discloses a truth he should have voiced a long time ago. “I was a shitty son but you were even shittier as a mother. And the worst thing is that, when you discovered I was gay, I had this pointless bit of hope that you’d… finally accept me.”

 

Joan winces, openly crying now, and Brian can see she wants to tell him he’s wrong, but she can’t, because they both know it would be a lie.

 

“Don’t worry, mother.” Brian stops her from making up excuses, not realizing that she is now looking at something behind him. “I’ve learned my lesson... Now, get out of my house.”

 

“Dad? What’s going on?” Gus’s voice reaches Brian’s ears. 

 

Gus appears next to him with a bag from the diner in his hand, glancing back and forth between Joan, Brian, and Justin, who is now standing a few feet away in the kitchen doorway.

 

“Gus. Meet your grandmother.” Brian gestures toward Joan. “She won’t be staying for dinner, so if you wanted some grandmotherly love, you’re out of luck.”

 

“Brian,” Joan pleads and holds out a hand as he walks past her, heading toward the stairs leading to the upper level. 

 

Suddenly, he stops and turns around. “You could have had it all,” he says with a shake of his head, gesturing at Gus. “If you’d only tried.” 

 

With those last words, he walks backward before disappearing up the stairs, leaving Gus, Justin, and Joan staring after him.

 

***

 

“You need to go,” Justin declares once Brian is gone, addressing Joan. She doesn’t react, her gaze still fixed on the stairs leading to the second floor.

 

“Wait a minute,” Gus intones. “Is what he said true? Did you really tell my dad that cancer was his ticket to fucking redemption?”

 

Joan glances at Gus but doesn’t respond. 

 

“Answer me,” Gus insists, approaching her.

 

She gazes up at him. “I did. Everything he said was true.”

 

The way she says it makes a chill travel down Gus’s spine. What’s strange is that he should be furious with her for inflicting so much pain on his father, and he is, but he feels something else too. He senses a deep sadness emanating from her, and he’s pretty sure that if he yelled at her now, she’d let him call her names and tell her she is worthless and pitiful without defending herself. She’d probably never come back and his dad could go on with his life as if the last week had never happened.

 

“Come with me,” he says instead, grabbing her hand and snatching his car keys from the small ledge in the entryway, before leading her to the front door. Glancing back at Justin, he announces, “Don’t wait up. And Justin…” he pauses, “he needs you.”

 

He doesn’t wait for Justin’s response before walking out of the apartment, heading for the elevator, and pulling up the grate. “What’re you waiting for?” he asks when he notices that Joan is still standing in front of the door.

 

She seems startled by his question. “Where are we going?”

 

“You’ll see,” Gus answers. “Come on.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Gus turns off the Ford pickup. They’re parked on the outskirts of Pittsburgh, at a viewpoint from which they can see the lights of the city against the dark sky. 

 

It stopped raining a few minutes ago. Gus peers up through the windshield. “No stars,” he comments, leaning back in his seat.

 

“What are we doing here?” Joan inquires, speaking for the first time since they got in the car.

 

“I like this place,” Gus says by way of explanation.

 

“You come here with your dad?” 

 

Gus chuckles, imagining his dad coming here. Maybe Justin brought him here, though. “No.”

 

“Justin then?”

 

Gus peers at her in surprise. “Good guess,” he confirms, his eyes traveling over the city. “Justin brought me here when I was sixteen.”

 

Joan picks up on his thoughtful tone. “For a special occasion?” 

 

Gus snorts, remembering the first time he came here, a few months after moving in with his dad. “You could say that.”

 

 

 

At the time, Gus was so sullen and withdrawn that even his dad couldn’t reach him. They’d been tiptoeing around each other for weeks, and ended up yelling at each other, with Gus concluding their argument by claiming that Brian should have never become a father. He’d never been that cruel before and when Justin visited Brian from New York the next day, he stole Justin’s credit card, deciding to run away. 

 

The following morning, he was walking to the bus stop with a large duffle bag over his shoulder when Justin pulled up alongside him. The blond didn’t say a word other than to sharply order him to get into the car, until they’d pulled over at the very spot where he’s parked now.

 

“How did you find me?” Gus asked, his displeasure obvious as he wondered if Justin had been aware he was about to board a bus away from Pittsburgh.

 

“Next time you plan on leaving without telling anyone,” Justin said matter-of-factly, casting a glance at Gus’s large duffle bag, “don’t use a credit card, especially one you’ve stolen.”

 

“Fuck you,” 

 

“No. Fuckyou,” Justin countered. 

 

“Why do you care anyway?” Gus railed in frustration. 

 

Justin didn’t take the bait, instead going straight to the point. “Tell me what’s going on. What’s really going on.”

 

That was the kind of attitude Gus admired and hated about Justin. The guy was impossible to fool. “Why do you think something is going on?” he hissed. “I’m just an ungrateful asshole whole sole purpose is to make his parents miserable.”

 

Justin burst out laughing. “Jesus, you sound so much like your dad.”

 

“I must be his son then.”

 

Justin sobered up. “Why do you want to leave?”

 

“Dad’s right about you.You’re one persistent fucker,” 

 

Biting his lips to prevent a grin, Justin confirmed, “We won’t move from the car until you tell me what you refused to tell Brian.”

 

Gus was tempted to tell him to go to hell, but he was tired. Besides, talking with Justin was easy. The guy didn’t expect him to be someone he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair to his dad, but life wasn’t a fairy tale, so why the fuck not?  “Do you have any idea what it’s like?” 

 

Justin frowned, not understanding what he meant. “What?”

 

“To have gay parents.”

 

“Well, no.”

 

“I hate them sometimes.” Gus disclosed. “Especially dad.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because why the fuck did he agree to have me?” Gus knew he was being unfair, again. But he was sixteen years old, and he was entitled to be petty and mean, like all those immature asshats who thought they had way more real life issues than the rest of the world. “I mean, did he and Mom ever consider for one fucking minute all the shit I’d have to deal with?”

 

“You mean, homophobia?” Justin inquired, peering over at Gus for confirmation. The teenager didn’t confirm or deny his assumption, prompting the blond to promise, “I won’t tell your dad.”

 

“Like I believe you.”

 

“Gus,” Justin stated his name, “I won’t. You can talk to me.”

 

Gus closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the headrest with a deep sigh. “It’s just… I’m tired of all the ‘we have to be proud of who we are’ philosophy, like being gay or having gay parents needs to be advertised or some shit.”

 

“You’re ashamed your parents are gay?”

 

“No, of course not! But I don’t want to be labelled because my parents are fucking queer.”

 

“You have every right not to tell people about them.”

 

Gus barely listened to Justin’s reply. “There was this thirteen-year-old kid in Toronto. ‘Faggy Eli.’ That’s what my football team called him. And everyone, including the teachers, pretended not to hear anything...” He stalled, his thumb nervously rubbing the palm of his hand. “Sam, especially, couldn't stand Elijah.”

 

“Who’s Sam?”

 

“The quarterback and captain of the team. A fucking prick, though I tolerated him at the time.” 

 

Justin quirked an eyebrow at Gus’s enigmatic statement.

 

“Sam played me.” Gus clarified. “I don’t know how, but he discovered my dad was gay. He already knew my mom was a lesbian, but not about Dad.”

 

“He had a problem with that?”

 

“He pretended to be okay with it, but the truth is, he’s a homophobic douchebag.” Gus nervously ran his hand through his hair. “Fuck, I hate him.”

 

“Go on,” Justin urged him to continue.

 

“We had practice on Thursday night and, that evening, Sam and I were the last two to leave. I was about to head out when he... asked me to go with him to help him with something. I remember thinking that I didn’t want to help him, but I didn’t want to argue, so I went along. I was texting with JR, so I didn’t even pay attention to where we were going, until we entered the restroom.”

 

Justin nodded at him in encouragement when Gus glanced up at him. 

 

Inhaling deeply, Gus revealed, “When I looked up, Elijah was sitting curled up on the floor in one of the cubicles, naked. There were a couple of guys from the team preventing him from leaving. His clothes had been thrown into the toilet. The kid was scared out of his mind. And Sam, he just… he went to piss on Elijah’s clothes. Elijah was… crying. Sam took a lipstick and wrote ‘Faggy Eli’ on the wall behind him. He snapped a fucking picture. I tried to make him stop, but he just laughed and said something about fags who never should be able to reproduce and he… threatened to tell the coach about my dad if I said anything. Since my coach was a homophobic asshole who already barely tolerated me because of my moms, I knew I was screwed.”

 

“I…” Justin peered over at Gus. 

 

“Elijah ended up being outed on Twitter an hour later. Two hours later, he tried to kill himself.” 

 

Justin didn’t say anything for several excruciately long seconds, increasing Gus’s restlessness. Eventually, the blond inquired, “What happened to him?” 

 

“He survived. That’s all I know.” Gus answered, his voice not as steady as he wanted it to be. He had dropped out of school shortly after that day, deleting his social media accounts and cutting all ties, smashing his phone in a fit of rage. 

 

“Your teammates?”

 

“Never heard from them since Mom decided I was too high-maintenance and sent me away to live with Dad.”

 

“Your mom thought your father would be a better influence on you,” Justin clarified. At Gus’s amused look, he deadpanned, “I know. Not sure how she came up with that… You never told her about that kid? Elijah?” 

 

Gus quirked an eyebrow. “What for?” 

 

“So you can forgive yourself. Move on.” 

 

“Elijah almost died because I didn’t do anything to stop Sam.” Gus repeated. “If you have a secret weapon to forget about almost killing someone, be my guest and share it.” 

 

“It’s not your fault,” Justin countered firmly. “It takes a lot of courage to admit you were wrong. But beating yourself up over something you couldn’t control is entirely different.”

 

“I could have said something, like right the fuck away. I should never have waited.”

 

“And then what? Your teachers would have punished your team?”

 

“Right,” Gus snorted. “Pretty sure the coach would have blamed me.”

 

“Then you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Besides, your pissy behavior sure as hell won’t help Elijah. But it’s hurting your dad.”

 

Gus averted his eyes, casting a glance outside the car.

 

“Have you ever considered contacting him?”

 

“Elijah?” Gus questioned, redirecting his gaze at Justin, who confirmed his supposition with a nod. “No. I’m pretty sure he’d hang up on me if I tried.”

 

“You’ll never know until you try,” Justin said gently, letting Gus know he had a choice.

 

“Fuck…” Gus opened the car door and stepped outside. Going to lean on the hood, he briefly glanced behind him, discerning a forest with trees majestically rising in the distance. Blowing out his breath, he tried to release the tension from his body. The guilt he’d bottled up inside made him want to yell at his former self for being so stupid and at his current self for being such a coward. 

 

Justin joined him after a couple of minutes, hopping onto the hood next to him. 

 

“I don’t know how to talk to Dad.” Gus confessed, observing the breathtaking architecture, buildings, and ongoing construction melding into a singular view of Pittsburgh. 

 

“When you’re ready, you’ll speak to him. Until then…” Justin gestured with his hand at the city spread out beneath them, “don’t run away, and you should be fine.”

 

“What’s with this place anyway?”

 

“It’s my secret place. I come here when I need to think about… things.”

 

“It works for you?”

 

“Usually.”

 

“Usually?” Gus echoed, sensing Justin was holding back.

 

“I’m an artist,” Justin stated emphatically, a small smile playing on his lips.

 

 

 

It took him another week to open up to his dad, that infamous day Brian took him to see his parents’ house and told him he loved him. But Gus remembers them calling Justin that day and planning a weekend of junk food and reruns of old movies, including Dirty Dancing. They ended up watching it twice, with Justin laughing hysterically when Brian suggested a second viewing.

 

“Why are you smiling?” Joan demands, jolting Gus from his memory.

 

“I’m thinking about Justin. He’s an artist.” 

 

“Charles told me that. He went to one of his exhibits in Pittsburgh, years ago.” Joan nods, looking up at Gus when she realizes he doesn’t know who she’s talking about. “Charles is the man I live with.” 

 

“The man you fuck?” Gus rephrases crudely, remembering his father’s description, before amending with a chuckle, “S’rry.”

 

A shy smile appears on Joan’s lips, “No need for a apology. We do... ‘f-f-f-uuck.’”

 

Gus has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. Her intonation is priceless. He’s pretty sure she never used the F-word before. “Saying fuck won’t kill you, I promise.” Raising an eyebrow, he dares her, “Come on, try again.”

 

She frowns at him, then stares straight ahead. Clearing her throat, she stammers with her head high, “F-f-f-f-fuck.” 

 

Gus is quite proud of her. “Not bad.” 

 

“F-f-fuck, f-fuck, fuck.” Joan repeats. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” She chuckles, making the sign of the cross.

 

This time, Gus does burst out laughing. Joan gives him a bright smile, her eyes lingering on his face. It’s difficult for Gus to reconcile the fact that the woman sitting next to him was so cruel to his dad. Her gaze is kind when she looks at him. 

 

“Your dad cursed all the time when he was a boy.” Joan divulges, rolling her lips into her mouth. There is a hint of nostalgia in her voice, and something else, a longing maybe, memories that are hers alone, that she probably remembers as happier that they really were.

 

“He taught me every bad word I know.” Gus volunteers quietly.

 

“You must be proud of him.” 

 

“I am.” Gus tilts his head to look at his grandmother. “He is the best father I could wish for. No thanks to you, though.”

 

Joan sighs, and Gus gives her his best bullshit smile. As much as he wants to dislike her, he enjoys her company. Not that she says much, but the look of shame on her face is hard to resist, especially since Gus knows it’s there because of Brian. 

 

“I’ve been a horrible mother, haven’t I?” Joan questions, confirming who his dad takes after with his propensity for drama. 

 

Gus bites his lower lip, silently observing his grandmother. “You were a cunt.” he answers boldy after a few seconds, his chest constricting as he recalls his dad’s bitter words echoing around the apartment an hour ago. “But, look on the bright side. There is a ninety-nine-percent chance that you can’t do worse with him than you already did.”

 

Joan lets out a dry laugh. 

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

Joan nods. “Of course.”

 

“Don’t give up on him,” Gus demands, noticing Joan’s bewildered expression as he speaks. “He is a proud man. But if he really didn’t want you in his life, he wouldn’t have even bothered talk to you after so long. Even less invite you over.”

 

Joan frowns, peering at Gus for long seconds. “If my grandson thinks there’s still something to fight for, I can’t really decline his request, can I?”

 

“It’s probably best not to say no. You have a few years to make up for, so you may as well start now.” he quips, tongue in cheek.

 

She gives him a nod of assent, and moves closer to him. “Can you tell me more about you? And about… your father?”

 

“What do you want to know?” 

 

“Whatever you want to share,” Joan answers, her gaze hopeful.

 

Gus stares back at her for several seconds. “Okay.” 

 

***

 

After Joan and Gus’s departure, Justin waits for ten minutes before deciding to check on Brian. He ascends the stairs to Brian’s loft, listening for any sound indicating what the brunet is doing but hears nothing. He pushes open the door to the second floor and steps into the familiar open space, realizing he hasn’t been here in years. Anytime he visits, they have always stayed downstairs.

 

He notices the changes immediately. On his left, Brian’s bedroom is now hidden from view, the glass panels having been replaced by something more opaque, ensuring privacy. Brian also remodeled the living room into a larger office, complete with a white sofa and a ginormous TV screen covering most of one wall. The kitchen wasn’t replaced, though.

 

“Brian?” Justin calls, his heart racing. Walking toward the other end of the loft, he stops by the stairs leading to the bedroom and peers inside. That’s when he realizes water is running in the bathroom, and before he can think about what he’s doing, he takes the three steps separating him from the bedroom area, freezing when he discerns Brian’s naked form. 

 

He is standing with his back to Justin, his hands braced against the shower wall as he lets the water cascade onto his neck and down his skin. Through the open door, Justin sees him rolling his neck, oblivious to anything but the soothing effect of the hot water. 

 

“Fuck,” Justin whispers, turning around to avoid being caught ogling his former lover. He leaps backward down the steps into the living room, almost falling over. He pauses, willing his pounding heart to calm down, before heading toward the fridge and reaching for the door. He pauses again, observing his hand on the handle, flashing back to his nineteen-year-old self doing the same thing only to have Brian suddenly plastered against his back and pushing him against the cool surface.

 

“Justin,” Brian utters his name, startling him. 

 

“Huh?” Justin eloquently replies, turning around. “Huh?” he repeats, his eyes drawn to an almost naked Brian standing on the bedroom steps, only a towel around his hips. His skin is still damp and, as Justin watches, beads of water slide down Brian’s chest.

 

The two men stand there in an awkward silence. Justin would look away if he could, but it’s not possible and, apparently, Brian is in the same situation. The blond briefly prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that Brian won’t notice his awestruck expression but, of course, God isn’t so helpful.

 

Brian rolls his lips into his mouth, the ghost of a smile on his face. Shifting on his feet, he descends the stairs, moving slowly toward Justin. His smile is gone by the time he stills in front of him.

 

The blond averts his gaze and steps back. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 

Brian doesn’t smile this time, but he does move impossibly close, placing his arms alongside Justin to trap him against the fridge. Like he’s done a million times.

 

“What are you doing?” Justin breathes out, peering up at Brian. 

 

Brian raises his eyebrows, his eyes boring into Justin’s. “You know what I’m doing.”

 

“Brian, I…” Brian’s lips are on his before he can say more.

 

***

 

Brian didn’t plan on kissing Justin, and the truth is, he would have continued the friendship shtick until death did them part if not for his encounter with his mother. 

 

If there is one true theory among the numerous idiotic concepts regarding love, it’s the one about a ‘long distance relationship being a pain in his ass.’ It’s completely legit. Not that Brian ever contemplated beating the odds considering his stellar background, but for once, he agreed with the general consensus that it truly sucked. When Justin left for New York fourteen years ago, he listened for months to his lover breathing out that he couldn’t come home, hearing the guilt in every single word he uttered, the ache for the life they’d have if they sacrificed Justin’s future. Brian hated everything about those phone calls, each one bringing them one step closer to the breaking point and making him terrified that it could be the last one.

 

Deciding to stay friends before things went completely south also sucked, but they’d been so scared of losing each other for good that they made a promise never to give up and let the distance get to them again. Brian didn’t need to worry about losing Justin permanently anymore. 

 

For the first couple of years, they rarely saw each other, though they talked on the phone at least once a month. It became easier as more time passed. Justin was dating his fourth, maybe fifth, boyfriend when they realized they were comfortable enough around each other to spend time alone without jumping each other. Brian was happy the weirdness was over and that nothing was likely to mess up his big plan to keep Justin in his life, preferably forever.

 

Gus was the reason they cemented their friendship. First during visits, then when he moved in. Anytime Brian was at a loss as to how to act with his son, he called Justin. He still does. Gus adores the blond, and Brian suspects he confides in Justin more than he does in him.

 

Justin is still dating nameless guys, however. It has become an inside joke, all those failed relationships. That’s the part Brian doesn’t understand, the reason Justin is still trying to have it all. When you travel as much as he does, spending most of your time in hotel rooms, it’s unnatural to expect someone to dutifully wait for you at home, or wherever Justin’s boyfriends are. Last year, Justin admitted that he had two boyfriends, one on the East Coast, one on the West Coast. They were both aware of ‘the other man,’ and Justin hated everything about the situation. Why he kept the masquerade going, Brian never figured out. 

 

“You ever talk about the fact that you’re still in love with me?” Brian teased him once after too much liquor and pot, referring to his boyfriends Bob and Brad, or whoever. Justin glared at him, and Brian chuckled when he noticed the chiding look on his face. “You’re so in love with me,” he repeated. 

 

He was completely high. 

 

He passed out that night, waking up alone with one hell of a hangover. He didn’t see the blond for two long months, during those twelve, agonizingly long, years. And now that his lips are tasting Justin’s, all the excuses Brian made up over the years - the long distance relationship, Justin’s freedom, Justin’s relationship with his son, Justin’s love life (okay, maybe not that one) - slip away, a white noise covering the little voice in his head telling him that nothing has really changed. 

 

It’s so natural to kiss him. Brian’s fingers close around strands of blond hair and he pulls him in, into their kiss, breathing in his scent. Justin groans in his arms and tightens his grip around him, his hands on Brian’s back quickly running up his spine and circling his neck to pull him nearer. 

 

Brian feels the towel around his hips loosen. Justin’s hands still, the hesitation lasting just long enough for both men to recover their senses. They break apart, Brian’s forehead resting on Justin’s as he catches his breath. 

 

“I…” Brian doesn’t know what to say.

 

But apparently, Justin does. “I need to go. My mom…” he steps away, pointing toward the stairs leading to the first floor with his finger “...is waiting for me. She must be waiting since I’m eating with her. On Friday. We’re on Friday, aren’t we?”

 

Brian nods once, gazing at Justin as if he’d lost his mind.

 

“I’m late. I must be late, like really late. What time is it?” Justin peers down at his wrist, but he doesn't have a watch. He never had a watch.

 

Brian glances at the oven clock with a pointed stare.

 

“Seven fifteen. Great. That’s good. I need to go.” Justin stammers, and is out of the loft before Brian can say anything else.

 

“Good job, Kinney,” Brian mutters with a sigh, entering his bedroom, the towel around his hips slipping down to the floor as he flops on the bed.

 

***

 

Justin doesn’t sleep well that night. He spends the night tossing and turning on the tiny bed in his mother’s guest room, replaying the kiss with Brian over and over. He wonders why he isn’t still freaking out, feeling oddly relieved instead now that he’s had time to process what happened.  

 

Twelve years ago, breaking up with Brian made perfect sense. They never had a conventional love story, and giving each other the freedom to move on with their lives was another demonstration of how differently their relationship worked, how much they truly loved each other. But, if one kiss can send Justin into the emotional tailspin he’s in right now, it can only mean that repressing his true feelings for the next twelve years won’t help him move on from his one-time relationship with Brian any more than the last twelve years did. 

 

“You’re so screwed,” Justin growls to himself, leaning sideways to check his phone.

 

He notices a new message from Gus. After reading it, he texts him back, acknowledging that as much as he was against the idea of Brian reconnecting with his mom, he’s now convinced that the brunet needs to give her one last chance. Fortunately, Gus has an idea to make that happen. Now, all they can do is wait and trust Brian to make the right choice. 

 

With a sigh, Justin presses the send button and gets up from the bed. He ends up cooking for the next couple of hours to keep his mind occupied.

 

It doesn’t work very well.

 

***

 

Saturday morning, the diner

 

Brian takes a sip of coffee and winces when he burns his tongue. “Fucking shit,” he snarls, not caring that the person on the neighboring stool is a bald dyke in red leather who has been eyeing him for the past twenty minutes as if he is a psycho. He probably looks like hell, though, and is feeling so utterly frustrated that he can’t really blame her.

 

After Justin left the previous evening, he spent the night thinking, and since he couldn’t call the blond to sort out his feelings, he didn’t get anywhere. He ended up with a headache, wondering why the ruler of the universe didn’t have anything better to do than come up with a thousand ways to torture him. Needing a distraction, he went downstairs to Gus’s room at one in the morning but his son wasn’t there, which pissed him off even more. He fell asleep in Gus’s bed and woke up alone five hours later. 

 

He ended up at the diner at seven forty, witnessing the parade of queers coming in after too much alcohol, dancing, and drugs. Of course, a skinny twenty-something redhead tried to hit on him on his way to the bathroom, calling him ‘daddy.’ As if his day wasn’t already shitty enough.

 

It isn’t, apparently. Debbie shows up for the eight o’clock shift and forces Brian to eat an omelet and some toast within five minutes of her arrival. He reluctantly agrees, since complying is the best way to avoid her annoying queries, which he definitely doesn’t need. Fortunately, God finally takes pity on him, because the diner fills almost to capacity, preventing her from asking him what’s up his ass.

 

Set on ignoring the outside world, Brian opens his laptop and pretends to work for the next hour.

 

“Hey.” Gus sits on the stool next to him a little after nine.

 

Brian casts a glance at his son and keeps typing. “Where the fuck have you been?”

 

Gus shrugs, dismissing his father’s mood. “I have someone with me. Do you mind?”

 

Brian rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger, contemplating telling his son to go sit somewhere else, when he notices the man standing next to him. 

 

Tom gazes at him with that irritatingly kind look Brian remembers. “It’s been a while.”

 

Brian pauses, needing a second to remember the priest. When he does, images of his mother’s reaction to his coming out resurface. His confrontation with the man of the church, too, although it wasn’t the last encounter they had.

 

“The last time I saw you, you were on your knees in the backroom of Babylon, giving a blowjob.” Brian drawls, feeling his son’s stare. “What? It’s true.”

 

“Tom is here to talk about your mom.” Gus declares. “And considering the mood you’re in, I think it’s necessary.”

 

“I’m fine,” Brian snaps, realizing too late what Gus just said. Quirking an eyebrow, he eyes Tom skeptically. “And I must have misunderstood you, because I could swear I heard you mention that dear martyr, Joanie.”

 

Gus stands up, letting Tom take his place next to Brian. “He’s all yours. Good luck.” 

 

“Where are you going?” Brian asks, annoyed that his son is making him feel like a drama queen. 

 

“None of your business,” Gus retorts with a broad smile.

 

Tom laughs, watching Gus exit the diner. “He looks like you and speaks like you.”

 

Resigning himself to his fate, Brian raises an eyebrow and grabs his cup of coffee. “Want one?”

 

“Sure,” Tom agrees.

 

“Deb!” Brian calls out.

 

Inserting more grounds into the coffee machine, Debbie peers over at him as he raises his cup and gestures for two more. Her eyes go wide when she notices Tom. A few seconds later, she smiles brightly at them both and trills a cheerful, “Two cups of freshly brewed coffee coming right up!” 

 

Brian frowns and glances at Tom who is smiling at her charmingly. “You sure know how to seduce older women. Too bad it’s not what you’re into.”

 

“Hmm.” Tom’s gaze is now on the bald dyke in red leather, and of course, she smiles back at him, too.

 

“And lesbians,” Brian adds with a roll of his eyes.

 

Tom’s lips twitch upward as he picks up the hot cup of coffee Debbie just placed in front of him. “How are you, Brian?” he inquires, as Debbie refills Brian’s cup. 

 

Brian waits for her to leave before answering, “I’m fantastic.” He takes a careful sip of the beverage and smirks at Tom. “And bored. So why don’t you tell me what you want?”

 

“My dad is dating your mom.”

 

Brian almost bursts out laughing. “What did you just say?”

 

Tom grins, looking completely relaxed. “I probably should say that they’re partners, since he lives with her.”

 

“Any mental issues in your family?” Brian questions, because at the moment, it’s the only explanation he has. Why else would Tom’s father be involved with his mother?

 

Tom blows on his coffee and takes a sip. “No.”

 

“A secret wish to cut loose from your dad, maybe?” Brian quips sarcastically. “Because if Joannie discovered you were gay, it could definitely happen.”

 

“She knows I’m gay,” Tom counters. “I left the priesthood and I’m a married man, Brian. I already was when she met my dad.”

 

Flabbergasted that his mother didn’t condemn Tom not only for being gay, but also for failing God, Brian doesn’t respond, needing a moment to process that information. He focuses his attention back on his laptop. 

 

“She really wants to try, you know,” Tom continues, ignoring Brian’s obvious desire to avoid this conversation. “She knows how much she hurt you. And she will never be able to take back all the horrible things she said to you. But she… has changed.”

 

Brian grunts, remembering the night before. “She hasn’t.”

 

“She was unprepared to meet Gus.” Tom defends her. “She overreacted. You said your piece, something she probably should have heard a long time ago. But she is not the one closing the door this time.” Tom waits for Brian to acknowledge his words, but the brunet doesn’t, prompting the man to push, “The question you need to ask yourself is, will you be okay if you decide to shut her out of your life for good?”

 

“You can be one hundred percent sure of a decision and yet never totally get over it.” Brian asserts. Of course choosing to cut her from his life is not easy, no matter how much shit she put him through in the past. Besides, Brian knows all about doing what is best and never really being able to move on. Justin would be married and knocked up with his third kid if he’d been brave enough to really let him go.

 

“I disagree. If you feel that way, it’s because it wasn’t a good decision in the first place.”

 

Brian looks up at Tom and blinks. 

 

“I just want you to think about it. Not make a hasty decision.” Tom pulls out his wallet and retrieves a card which he places on the counter and slides toward Brian using his index and middle fingers. “If you need anything...” 

 

Brian peers down at the card, noting that Tom is a counselor for a juvenile outreach program. Gazing up, he states with a straight face, “I fucked you already which, when you think about it, is a huge relief since you’re technically my step-brother now.” 

 

Tom tries to suppress the grin threatening to spread across his face, but it’s pointless. Waving at Debbie, who is rushing past with an order, he demands, indicating their cups of coffee, “Two more.”

 

***

 

One hour later

 

Joan stares at the teabag, again dipping it into the lukewarm water in her cup, watching the beverage darken some more. Frowning, she places it on the little plate next to the cup and watches pearls of liquid seep from the teabag. She grabs the cup and stands up, stepping over to the counter. She removes a couple cubes of sugar from the sugar bowl, adds them to the tea, and begins stirring them in with a spoon.

 

She sighs, turning around and leaning back against the cabinet, moving her spoon in circles. Charles went to run an errand, after she assured him she was okay. She isn’t, but she appreciates the quietness of her home at the moment. She needs to decide what to do next. Brian probably needs some time to think things over, however, so she’ll give him a day before trying to convince him to give her one last chance.

 

She approaches the kitchen table and sits back down, picking up her phone. She calls Claire, asking her how she is doing, spending twenty minutes listening to her daughter complain about every detail of her life. 

 

“Have you seen him yet?” Claire questions eventually. 

 

“I have,” Joan responds simply. She informed her daughter of her wish to reconnect with Brian a few weeks ago. Claire doesn’t understand, but she didn’t try to stop her either. She hasn’t seen her brother in a very long time. 

 

“And? How did he react?”

 

“Not that well. But it’s not his fault. It’s mine.” Joan says.

 

“Well, so much for trying to make amends with him after so long.”

 

“It was long overdue.”

 

Claire doesn’t respond, the silence dragging on for a minute. Eventually, the call comes to an end, Claire claiming that she has an appointment and needs to go. Joan hangs up, thinking about her daughter’s estrangement from her brother and knowing it’s partly her fault. They were never close, but after John accused Brian of molesting him, their relationship deteriorated more. 

 

Placing her phone on the kitchen table, she sits there, staring at the wall in front of her and not really seeing anything. She keeps thinking back to the night before, to Brian’s face when he confronted her. If not for Gus, she doesn’t know what she’d do.

 

It’s still unreal, the fact that she has a grandson, one who asked her not to give up on his dad. After all she’s done, she doesn’t feel like she deserves to know Gus and, yet, her grandson is giving her a chance. 

 

She ended up revealing her story to him, talking about Charles’s kindness, about Tom’s wisdom. When Gus asked for Tom’s phone number, Joan agreed, trusting his judgement. Gus knows his dad better than anyone else, after all, except maybe Justin. That makes Joan wonder what happened between Brian and Justin for them to be friends and not a couple. Given the way the blond defended Brian in her house, Joan would swear he’s in love with her son.  

 

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears a knock at her front door. She wonders who it is since she isn’t expecting anyone. 

 

She is flabbergasted to find her son on the doorstep. She never expected him to come to her house, especially not after their awful argument. “Brian… How… What are you doing here?”

 

Brian doesn’t respond, just stares at her as if also questioning why he’s there. He doesn’t look that well, as if he didn’t get enough sleep. 

 

“Come in.” She opens the door, fearing he’ll leave if she doesn’t invite him in.

 

He frowns but enters, Joan closing the door behind him. She watches him take in the decor - all the recent changes - his gaze sweeping around the living room and the kitchen. He hasn’t come to her house in more than a decade.

 

“You want something to drink?” she offers, prompting him to turn around and look at her. 

 

He shakes his head once.

 

“I…” Joan isn’t sure what to do. “Something to eat, then? I can make pancakes, or maybe… I’m out of eggs.” She starts to panic, her nerves getting the best of her. Walking over to her fridge, she checks the contents, but it’s pretty much useless since she can’t really think of anything to cook without eggs. “I can go to the store,” she blurts out, frowning because she isn’t making sense. Her son is here and she offers to go out?

 

Brian hasn’t moved. He is watching her, probably thinking she is insane. “I’m not hungry.” 

 

Joan forces herself to take a deep breath. She nods at him, gesturing toward the couches. Brian silently takes the three steps separating him from one of them, and sits down, clearing his throat. 

 

As she approaches after having picked up her cup of tea, Brian questions, “No booze today?” 

 

Joan exhales deeply, tapping the spoon a couple of times against the cup, before placing it on the plate and putting it down on the coffee table. She sits down, and looks up. “Why are you here, Brian?”

 

Brian shrugs, rolling his lips into his mouth. 

 

Joan’s eyes soften as she gazes at her son. “You always do that,” she points at her own mouth with her fingers, “when you’re uncomfortable.”

 

Brian glances up at her.

 

“I remember when you were a kid, when you did something foolish and didn’t want to get caught, you’d press your lips together and look away with that shy expression on your face… It was adorable.”

 

“Adorable?” Brian echoes quizzically.

 

“Yes.” Joan stares at her son, her eyes boring into his. 

 

Brian looks away. “I heard you have a partner.”

 

Briefly surprised by the change of subject, Joan surmises Gus and Tom have talked to Brian already.

 

“So?” Brian insists.

 

Joan answers, “I… You’re right.”

 

“You didn’t tell me he was Tom’s father.” Brian states. It’s not exactly an accusation, though Joan doesn’t know what it is.

 

She nods, her fingers laced together on her lap. There is no point in beating around the bush. “His name is Charles. He’s good to me. And he made me realize what I was missing out on by not having my son in my life.”

 

Brian huffs, resisting, “It doesn’t suit you, claiming that you love me and want me in your life like it’s a big thing...” His eyes drawn to the wall behind his mother, he stands up, glancing at an old picture of Joan, Jack, Claire, and himself. Gesturing with his hand, he continues, “...a big gesture I’ve waited for all my life. I haven’t. Besides, you already told me you loved me before, remember?”

 

Joan knows Brian is thinking about their encounter in his office at Kinnetik after she ran into Debbie Novotny at church. “Doesn’t make it any less true. I loved you then, but I was too much of a…” she thinks back to the word Gus used the night before, figuring she should say it now even if she normally wouldn’t “...a cuntto love you properly.”

 

Brian peers down at her, caught off guard by her crude admission.

 

Joan stands up too, walking over to him. “I haven’t been the mother you deserved. I was judgemental and petty, and what I said to you when I discovered you were gay was unforgivable. I should have trusted you with John, and supported you when you had cancer. And I,” she places her hands on Brian’s arms, “am sorry. But I can’t change the past, and if you feel like you can’t forgive me, then I understand.”

 

Brian stares at her, not moving. 

 

“One thing, though,” she continues. “I’m not sure what your deal is with Justin, but he’s in love with you. And, maybe it’s not my place to tell you this, but if you feel the same way he does, you should tell him. You should treasure every minute you have with him and thank God for every one to come.”

 

Brian steps back, Joan’s hands falling to her sides. The sound of the front door opening startles both of them. Brian glances back to discover Charles standing in the doorway, a deer caught in the headlights expression on his face.

 

Peering back at Joan, Brian’s facade cracks a little. He casts a meaningful glance at her before walking over to Charles and extending his hand.

 

“Brian,” he says sharply.

 

Charles immediately smiles broadly at him, answering cheerfully as juggles the full bag he’s carrying in order to shake Brian’s hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m…” 

 

“Charles, I know,” Brian cuts him off, stepping back and examining him. 

 

“I am,” Charles heads over to the kitchen table with the groceries, “about to make my famous chicken parmesan, and I’m sure Joan would be delighted if you agreed to stay for lunch. What do you say?”

 

Brian raises an eyebrow as Joan approaches him with an apologetic look. Charles is naturally optimistic, so she isn’t surprised he wants to invite Brian to lunch, even though she already knows what Brian’s answer is going to be.

 

“Maybe next time,” Brian responds, which makes Joan pause. 

 

“I- I…” she stammers, her chest tightening - in a good way - as she gazes at her son. 

 

Brian nods once. “I have to go.” he says in a gentle voice. “I’ll… call you.”

 

“Okay.” A smile breaks across her lips. 

 

“Okay,” Brian echoes, rolling his lips into his mouth to suppress a smile and prompting Joan to lift one eyebrow at him. That causes Brian to genuinely grin in her presence for the first time in a very long while. 

 

***

 

Twenty minutes later

 

Brian ascends the stairs leading to the loft, leafing through the mail that he just retrieved from his mailbox, but he halts as he arrives at his doorstep. Justin is sitting on the floor, leaning against the metal door.

 

His chest tightens at the sight of his former lover. Neither man speaks at first, Justin refusing to look up, although his voice resonates in the hallway as he begins, “I’ve tried to be friends with you.”

 

Brian tilts his head, taking a step closer, though he still doesn’t say anything.

 

“I’ve tried to pretend I wasn’t in love with you. That I could meet someone and feel what I felt when we were together.” Justin intones, and looks up at Brian, repeating, “I’ve tried.”

 

Brian gives Justin a shy smile. “I know.”

 

Justin shrugs, shaking his head. “Why are we doing this?”

 

“Doing what?”

 

“Trying to be people we don’t want to be.”

 

Brian steps closer and bends down, sitting next to Justin. He kicks Justin’s foot with his own, and leans his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Because we’re not as smart as we think we are?”

 

Justin snorts, rubbing his face. “That’s not it. We’re smart people.”

 

Brian laughs. “Maybe. I mean, I made peace with my mom today.”

 

A huge smile appears on Justin’s face, as he impulsively places his hand on Brian’s arm. “That’s… unexpected.”

 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

 

“I’m happy for you.” Justin squeezes Brian’s arm and is about to withdraw his hand, but before he can, Brian covers the blond's with his own, making Justin peer at him with a puzzled frown. 

 

Brian bites his lip, feeling oddly peaceful and alive at the same time. 

 

Inhaling deeply, he raises his hand, delicately touching a strand of blond hair and tucking it behind Justin’s ear. Gazing down at Justin’s lips, he smiles softly and finally kisses him. Justin whimpers, startled by Brian’s decision to drop all pretense, but he immediately grips the brunet’s neck and returns the kiss, its intensity rapidly increasing. When they pause for breath, Brian rests his temple against the side of Justin’s face, certain he’s made the right choice.

 

“I’m not letting you go again,” he breathes out and leans back to gaze at Justin, watching his lips curl upward. 

 

Justin’s smile brightens as he lifts his hand and touches Brian’s cheek, murmuring, “Never again,” before kissing him one more time.

 

THE END