Why Not With Me?

Chapter Fifty-Three: Closing the Door

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Mother, you had me 

I never had you. 

I wanted you, 

But you didn’t want me...

You left me

but I never left you. 

I needed you

but you didn’t need me. 

So I just got to tell you -- 

Goodbye, goodbye.

- from Mother, by John Lennon

I try to breathe 

Memories overtaking me

I try to face them but 

The thought is too much to conceive 

I only know that I can change

Everything else just stays the same 

But now I step out of the darkness 

That my life became 

- from Fade, by Staind

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--------Justin’s Point of View----------

The next morning I got up extra early and made Brian’s favorite breakfast. Egg white omelet with mushrooms, peppers and steak. I had out his precious pomegranate juice that was way too strong for me but that he swore by. 

Then I went in and woke him up with a simple, but highly effective, blow job.  

--------Brian’s Point of View---------

Fuck, that felt good. And then I got up and found my favorite breakfast just waiting for me. It was a quiet, comfortable time, seemingly designed to be quiet and relaxed. 

Breakfast was wonderful. Justin is really a great cook and he knows exactly how I want everything. He doesn’t say much but both of us are hyperaware of the events later this morning. When I’m done eating, Justin takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom.  He showers me, lavishing attention on me and  teasing me until I fuck him in there, his face pressed up against the glass like it was the first time.. 

Then it was ten minutes until we were going to leave and Justin pulled me into the chair. 

My stomach was getting knotty and I was downright nervous, but I felt a lot calmer in his arms. 

“Beautiful,” he said softly into my ear, “you’re going to do this and you’re going to feel really good about it. I’m going to be right there with you. And when you’re done, you’ll never have to do this again.” 

I take a deep breath and consider what he said. It’s true; this could be the last time I ever see Joanie. And that is up to me, not her. And no matter what happens, it will soon be me and Justin back here at the loft. Alone together. 

I let out a breath and nod, looking into Justin’s eyes.

Justin kisses me softly and we go to the car. 

-------------------Justin’s Point of View-------------

I sit at one table and Brian at the next one. Our backs are together, sharing a bench seat. My heart is pounding with nervousness for him. I close my eyes and focus on him. 

When I open my eyes, Joanie is walking across the diner toward Brian. She is dressed up, her clothes suggesting that she has much more money than she really does, I suspect.  She has on a mink coat and pearls. Her heels click against the linoleum floor, making everyone in the place look up at her as she passes. A more unlikely patron of the diner there had never been. 

I swallow hard as I hear Brian stand up to greet her. I keep my head down as she passes, in case she recognizes me. 

----------- Joanie’s Point of View-----------

Brian is sitting there waiting for me when I get there.  I can hardly imagine what he wants to say to me. 

After our last encounter, I didn’t exactly expect to hear from him again. I hadn’t heard any other updates about him from that obnoxious Debbie Novotny, but that didn’t mean much. When he asked me to come here and talk to him, I was surprised. I assume that he’s going to tell me that he’s dying of AIDS, that his many sins have finally caught up with him. 

But when I get there he looks okay.  I guess it’s the early stages still, which is good. I don’t want to see him ravaged.

He stands up to greet me, taking my hand in a somewhat informal handshake. It’s a pretty cold way to treat your own mother, if you ask me, but at least he’s still polite. 

“How are you?” I ask, setting my scarf on the rather grungy-looking seat next to me.  He swallows a couple of times before answering and I think I see him bite his lip. 

“Fine…” 

He doesn’t say anything more and I’m about to start telling him about the problems that his cousin Noreen is having -- she could really use some money and god knows he has plenty of that. 

Right as I open my mouth, he continues. 

“I just wanted to talk to you.” 

Then he stops again, not saying anything for almost a full minute. I don’t understand what’s going on with him. He’s never like this.  Even as a kid he was always a smartass, ready with something to say. Usually something that no one in their right mind would say. 

---------Brian’s Point of View-----------

Sitting here across from her is really difficult. Looking into her hard, ignorant face. Seeing her impatience with me, barely below the surface. Seeing the cold, judgmental look in her eyes, and the unmistakable set in her jaw that always means that she disapproves of me. 

I’ve never seen her without it, but seeing her now…  Seeing it like this, seeing her up close, watching her, I can imagine the years fading away. I can remember the way she used to glare at me in anger, or plead with me when she was drunk. 

My eyes start to play tricks on me. 

Her eyes morph into the half-closed look she wore when she was drunk one night and she made me carry her to bed. She muttered about me going to the devil the whole time. 

Her expression changes to the way she looked, set in a blank, stoic poker face while Jack beat the shit out of me when I was eleven. Her head half turned. Pretending she didn’t know what was going on behind her.  I saw her face through a mirror. I saw the way she showed no expression at all as the sound of Jack’s belt on my ass filled the room. 

My throat is so dry I can’t talk. 

She is looking at me expectantly, and I realize suddenly that she is going to start prattling on if I don’t start talking. I take a sip of water quickly and start talking before she can. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the past -- about how things used to be.”  Her eyes widen but she says nothing. 

“I…need to talk to you about a few things…” I say, trying to breathe. In and out, in and out. It’ll all be okay, I tell myself, thinking about Justin, pressing my back against the seat that he and I shared. 

“Go ahead,” Joanie says, her voice flat.   I swallow and forge ahead. 

“I want to know how you could -- could have watched Jack hurt me so much. So often… Didn’t that -- didn’t that hurt you?” I ask. 

-----------Justin’s Point of View---------

My hands are shaking with nervousness as I listen to him, his voice shaking slightly. Joanie’s voice has no emotion whatsoever as she answers. 

“Well -- well. That’s quite a question.”   She pauses for a long time but Brian doesn’t say anything, forcing her to answer. 

“Well… of course it did. Of course,” she says finally, her words clipped. 

I can hear Brian take a deep breath. 

“Then why -- why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you leave him? Why didn’t you ever help me?”  

------Joanie’s Point of View-------

I can’t believe he brought me here to talk about this. It’s all so long past. We’ve all moved on, we’ve all gone on with our lives. Why is he bringing this up now? I don’t want to think about those times, not now or ever. 

Those years weren’t easy for me, and I’m sure they probably weren’t for him either. That’s not news to me, and I don’t see what will be accomplished by hashing over matters long settled. 

“I tried to make him mad at me sometimes instead of you,” I say quietly. Brian looks at me, his eyes wide, his eyebrows raised. 

“You did?” 

“A few times, yes. I -- I didn’t always want you beaten.” 

---------Justin’s Point of View----------

Brian’s voice explodes. 

“You didn’t ALWAYS WANT ME BEATEN?” 

I swallow hard a few times, starting to feel sick. 

“No -- no -- no,” Joanie fumbles for words. “I guess there were just times when -- when I thought it might help you.” 

“Help me what? Help me WHAT?” Brian demands. 

“I don’t know -- help you fight the devil,” she says, her voice maddeningly calm, “I didn't know how else to help you. But obviously you're the same sinner you've always been.” 

----------Brian’s Point of View--------------

“Well -- let me tell you what didn’t help. Having no one to even take care of me afterward, because you were passed out drunk! Did you -- do you -- even *remember* my childhood? Or were you lucky enough to forget it all?” I ask, my body ablaze with anger. 

She looks at me with anger and pain in her eyes. It’s the first hint of real emotion I’ve seen from her. 

“I remember it,” she says indignantly. 

“Like what? You remember all the bruises? All the cuts? The bandaging up? I don’t know how you even could,” I say, feeling my hands starting to shake. 

“No -- I remember you played soccer. I remember you had some little friends. I remember you did well in school,” she says, trying to defend herself. 

That she is trying to construct a picture of a happy childhood is infuriating; the anger I feel can hardly be contained. I bite my tongue hard in an effort not to physically attack her. 

“I was not happy. I was not -- not even close to happy. I was hurt. You and Jack hurt me. Both of you hurt me. I want you to know that. You have to know that… And I don’t just mean physically.  You  hurt me,” I say, noticing that my eyes are now brimming with tears. 

-------Joanie’s Point of View--------

My heart is pounding. I have never seen Brian cry. 

Wait. 

Can that be true? 

Never in 30 years. 

I feel a knot in my stomach.  I’ve denied it for a long time, but the knowledge is there. 

We did hurt him. 

And apparently it didn’t help him at all, because he’s more lost now than he’s ever been.

I don’t know what to say. And I don’t understand why this is so important to him now. We’re talking about twenty-five, thirty years ago. 

“Why are you bringing this up now?” I ask. 

----------Justin’s Point of View---------

I almost choke when I hear her ask him that. I can hear Brian’s voice shaking with emotion as he answers. 

“Why am I bringing this up now? Because -- I guess for you it’s over.  It's been over. It's all past, right?! But for me it’s not. It’s everywhere, it’s in me, and it’s in my life. The memories are there, and it has changed me,” he says. 

She doesn’t say anything for a long time. 

--------Joanie’s Point of View------

“I’m sorry if  we weren’t perfect… We tried to do what was best for you,” I say quietly, trying to reach across the table to take Brian’s hand. He yanks it away and looks at me hard. 

----Justin’s Point of View-------

“If that’s what you need to fucking tell yourself, then tell yourself that shit. But don’t tell it to me,”   Brian says, his voice stern and harsh. I am so proud of him I could burst into  a million pieces. 

Joanie is quiet for a moment and when she speaks her voice is softer. 

“Is there anything else you wanted to say, or can I go?” 

Brian's voice is clear, deliberate and deadly serious as he responds:

“There is one more thing. You hurt me and I didn’t deserve to be hurt… And it’s been hard to overcome that pain. You need to know that -- it’s been hard. But it’s not impossible. If it means anything to you, I’m happy now. You and Jack couldn’t love me,  but Justin does. I wasn’t the problem. You were.  You didn’t win. I’ve won.” 

With that, Brian stood up and turned around to me. He held my hand and took a last look at Joanie, sitting slumped in the booth but with her face resolute. Then we turned and walked out the door.