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“Where are we going,” Gus asked, clinging to Brian’s neck.
“How about the library,” Brian suggested. “I’ll go get us some food and we can have a picnic on the floor.”
Justin grinned at Brian's wink. What was this, a case of all good things come to him who can wait?
He had thought Brian would put the boy down, but he didn’t. Instead, he transferred Gus into his arms, and Justin was so startled at the compact warm weight that he almost dropped the kid. Brian raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him and jutted his chin at the library door.
“Go in there. I won’t be a minute,” he said. “Lock the door.”
Justin did as he was told, and thought it was sad that Brian felt the need to lock doors in his own house. What a difference to the loft!
“We’re always in here when we want to be alone, or in the studio. When we lock the door, Judson knows we won’t come out until we’re ready,” Gus explained. “You can put me down now.”
Justin did, and smiled. “You get to talk to your dad a lot.”
Gus nodded. “He phones me every second day, and now that I can read, we write emails every day! And when I’m here, I can talk to him whenever I want.”
“That’s great,” Justin said sincerely, dropping his bag. “You know your dad better than I ever knew mine.”
“That’s how I know he gives a shit. About you, and Judson. And Shane, too. But I think he doesn’t want to care about Michael and Debbie anymore, or Ted.”
Gus went to a chest of drawers Justin hadn’t noticed before, and took out a white cloth. “Help me spread it on the floor, please?”
Justin did, and Gus brought glasses and napkins.
“Do you like Michael, Justin?”
“I’m not sure, Gus. When we first met, I thought he was a bit of a jerk. But then I realized that your dad really liked him, so I tried to like him too. We got along for a while, but right now, I’m back to not liking him.”
“And Debbie?”
Justin shrugged. “I don’t like how she talks to your dad, so the answer is no, I guess. Even though she’s usually nice to me.”
There was a knock on the door, and Brian said cheerfully, “Room-service, gentlemen! Are you decent?”
Gus giggled and ran to open the door, locking it again behind Brian.
Brian had brought plates and cutlery, and a small wicker basket filled with bread, butter, cheese, cherry tomatoes, peanut-butter, avocados, some jam, orange juice, guava juice, three bottles of Evian, and a bowl full of fresh strawberries.
They settled on the floor, and Justin realized that the thick carpet in combination with the cushions from the fireplace was really comfortable.
Brian poured juice for them and helped Gus spread peanut-butter on his bread, adding a slice of cheese. Apparently, Brian still liked his own peanut-butter with avocados, which Justin had always thought was plain weird.
Come to think of it, it was even weirder that Brian had remembered he liked his peanut-butter with jam.
“Daddy. You talked to Mom Mel now. Have you made your decision yet,” Gus asked, and bit into his sandwich.
“No, I haven’t, Gus. I still need to talk to your mom.”
“You can’t talk to her today,” Gus said. “She’ll be drunk again by the time we get back.”
Brian sighed. “I was afraid of that. My lawyer will come by tomorrow morning. Tell you what, I’ll make my decision tomorrow evening, before you go to bed, whether I’ve spoken to her or not. How does that sound?”
Gus beamed. “That sounds good, Daddy!”
“Okay,” Brian smiled. “Then you can put it out of your mind for now, right? You brought your sketch-pad, did you get anything done?”
Gus nodded eagerly. “I did a tree growing behind a bush that came out pretty good. But my horse looks like a dog. And Justin helped me on perspective, and let me watch him sketch mom!”
“Justin's the expert,” Brian said. “Did you understand what he told you? Do you think you can do it now?”
Gus frowned and thought for a moment. “I understood what I need to do. But I’ve got to practice to get it right.”
Justin was surprised at the influence Brian had on his son.
The kid really thought about his answers, almost like an adult. And their relationship was something else – Brian didn’t talk down to Gus, like Michael did. But he also didn’t treat the boy like a small adult. He handled him like – what? A person, Justin realized. Much like he had dealt with him, actually. Brian made allowances for inexperience, in his private life as well as at work. And he was always willing to share his knowledge. Small wonder the people at Vangard had adored Brian.
“Justin’s portrait looks different to yours,” Gus commented.
“We’re two different people, but I don’t think that’s what you’re trying to say. What kind of difference do you see?”
Gus chewed on his sandwich for a moment, obviously deep in thought.
Brian didn’t press him; he ate his bread and prepared another slice for himself, patiently waiting for Gus to reply.
“Mom looks prettier in Justin’s sketch. He left out all the wrinkles! And he did something with her hair, too. There’s something else… can I look at the picture?”
Brian nodded. “Sure. It’s a difficult question.”
Justin raised his eyebrows, watching Gus put the sandwich down and wipe his fingers on a napkin before fetching his pad.
“Doesn’t he normally get to look?”
Brian grinned. “Depends. I’m trying to teach him to remember things he’s looking at. There’s no point in looking in the first place if you don’t take in what you see.”
“And who taught you?”
“Nobody,” Brian shrugged. “I had to figure it out by myself.”
Justin knew that it was easier for him to remember things if he drew them. But he recalled that Brian was always very aware of his surroundings. At Babylon, Brian could spot trouble before the protagonists knew there was going to be any. It was an indication of his surprise and shock that Brian hadn’t been able to give a better description of his father’s car that time he rammed him.
Justin also knew that people always imagined Brian picked up ideas for his campaigns out of thin air. He didn’t really, his ads were often the result of things he had heard or seen that day. That was Brian’s real genius - to process information and transform it into something new.
Gus came back with the pad and sat next to Brian, looking at Lindsay’s portrait for a long moment. “Her face is friendlier,” he decided. “Justin put a smile into her eyes.”
Brian wiped his fingers and held out his hand. “Let me see?”
He studied the portrait for a while, his head tilted.
Gus looked at him expectantly, and Justin realized that he was doing the same. Yes. It was still important what Brian thought. Always would be. And Brian's approval was even more important. Who cared about Caswell and Co., when there was Brian’s voice to be heard?
“Do you like this portrait, Gus?” Brian closed the sketch-pad and put it down carefully.
Gus nodded. “Yes.”
“Can you tell me why you like it?”
Gus sighed. That one was obviously the trick question.
“I think I’d like mom to look like that again. She used to, you know. Even when you sketched her for me, last summer.”
Brian nodded. “You’re on the right track, sonny-boy. Do you like the sketch I did yesterday?”
“Yes,” Gus said. “You got her just right. Mom looks just like that.”
“Very good. Now put the two together – where’s the difference between Justin's sketch and mine?”
Gus chewed on his lip, the way Brian sometimes did. “Your sketch shows the truth. Justin’s sketch is what could be, but isn’t.”
“I’m proud of you, Gus!” Brian reached out and pulled Gus into his lap, hugging him tightly. “Well done! You’re a smart boy!”
Gus beamed and enthusiastically hugged back.
Grinning, Justin rescued Brian’s wobbling guava juice before it could spill.
“Now I have to finish my sandwich,” Gus declared and went back to his plate. “Are Justin’s portraits all like that, Daddy?”
“Ask Justin,” Brian suggested.
Justin shook his head. “No, no, you can’t do that. No getting out of it. That ball is definitely in your court.”
“Handing over our balls, are we?” Brian grinned. “Fine. Want to leave the room?”
“That bad, huh?” Justin grinned back. “No thanks. I’ll sit it out.”
“Sure about that, Sunshine?”
“I’m sure,” Justin said calmly. “Go on, crunch my fragile little artist’s ego.”
“Which brings us back to the question why you give a shit what I think? And why you think I’m going to crunch anything.”
Justin popped a cherry tomato into his mouth to buy himself a moment. “I’ll tell you after. First you tell Gus what you think.”
“Fair enough,” Brian shrugged. He reached for his juice and took a swallow. “I draw what I see. With Justin, what he sees depends on his mood, and on how he feels about the person he draws.”
Gus nodded. “So it’s not just seeing something and getting it from your eyes to your fingers to the paper.”
Brian shook his head. “Not with Justin, no. Justin doesn’t just sketch what he sees; he makes a statement at the same time.”
“And you don’t,” Gus said.
“I don’t,” Brian said. “I try to copy the truth.”
“Is Justin lying, then?”
“No, he isn’t. Let me rephrase that for you – I sketch what I see, and Justin sketches what he sees. We each see things differently.”
“And which is better,” Gus asked.
“There is no better or worse. Everybody has to do what’s right for them,” Brian said, reaching for a tomato.
“Why did you think Justin would be upset with what you say,” Gus prodded.
Justin wondered whether Brian would answer that one for Gus. He was certain Brian wouldn't have answered him, not then, and not now.
Brian washed down the tomato with some Evian and said, “It’s not always easy to speak your mind, and sometimes you do it in a way that can be misinterpreted. I want you to get what I’m saying, and at the same time, I don’t want to upset Justin.”
Justin snorted. “What your dad is trying to say in a nice way is that I’m touchy.”
“And are you touchy,” Gus asked, eyes wide.
“I guess I am, sometimes. Your dad’s opinion matters to me, and I’m afraid I don’t always take his evaluation very well.”
Gus nodded. “I don’t like being told off, especially by my dad.”
Justin wondered whether that happened a lot. He couldn’t imagine it.
Gus grinned devilishly. “I’m not always such a good boy.”
Justin laughed. “I bet. Your dad probably wasn’t.”
“I wasn’t,” Brian confirmed.
“So, are you going to tell my dad why it matters what he thinks? You said you would.”
“Thanks for that one, Gus,” Justin grinned. “And here I am, hoping I’m off the hook.”
Brian laughed. “Careful, Justin. When Gus is around, you’re never off the hook. Sometimes, he just pulls you in a day later.”
“Not surprising. Like father, like son,” Justin shrugged.
“If you don’t want me to know, I can stick my fingers in my ears,” Gus offered.
Justin shook his head, grinning. “No, there’s no need. You know, Gus, I met your dad when I was seventeen. Until then, only my family and a few friends had seen my sketches – and they always liked everything. The way Michael and Debbie like your drawings, you know? And I always got good grades in art-classes. Your dad was the first person who didn’t always praise me. He pointed out mistakes I made. At first, I was upset about that, but then I realized he gave me a chance to improve. I like that your dad is always honest. That’s why it matters what he says, because he doesn’t shit you.”
Gus smiled. “He doesn’t, does he. And he makes you think.”
“No, he doesn’t and yes, he does,” Justin smiled back.
“Now you talk just like daddy,” Gus said delightedly.
“Brian. I’d like to see that portrait you did yesterday.”
“How did I know you were going to say that,” Brian sighed. “I don’t show my sketches to anybody, but Gus.”
As always, the rejection hurt. Then again, if Gus was really the only one who got to see Brian’s work… maybe the refusal wasn’t quite as wounding.
“But you said I can have the sketch,” Gus said. “And if it's mine, I can show it to Justin if I want to, can’t I?”
“Spoken like a lawyer,” Brian said, sighing again. “Fine. You can show Justin. But only the one, and only Justin!”
Justin was aware that it was a big concession.
“And if you tell anybody I sketch I’ll feed your balls to the crocodiles.”
Gus laughed. “There are no crocodiles in Pittsburgh, Daddy!”
“Are, too.” Brian grinned. “In the zoo!”
“Oops,” Gus giggled. “Better keep the secret, Justin!”
“I will,” Justin smiled, looking at Brian. “I promise!” And he would. This time, he’d keep his mouth shut firmly. Not like before, when he had promised to keep Brian’s secret, and then gone blabbing. Blabbing to Michael, of all people.
Gus went back to the drawer and got out a single sheet of paper.
The drawing was charcoal, and it was stunning. Justin swallowed. He didn’t know what he had expected, but that was one hell of a portrait.
Lindsay’s eyes seemed to hold yours, and there was a sadness and underlying despair in her expression that squeezed your heart. Brian hadn’t flattered her, obviously not intending her to see this sketch. There were the lines around her eyes Justin had noticed, and a bitter turn to her mouth he had missed. Her hair seemed lifeless, and the set of her shoulders spoke of more years than she actually carried. Lindsay looked petulant and unhappy.
Lindsay really came across like that, Justin realized.
And Brian had rendered his impression with the brutal honesty that marked him. Brian’s occasionally harsh words transferred to equally stark images in confident, rapid lines.
“Fuck, Brian. You’re fucking brilliant. You need to show these.”
“You’ve only seen one,” Brian smirked. “Aren’t you a little hasty in your praise?”
Justin met his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot. You know damn well that you can tell from a single piece of work whether somebody knows what they’re doing.”
“Justin…”
Justin interrupted. “Don’t. I know you don’t do false modesty. Why aren’t you sharing these?”
“Because I don’t want to. How do you think Lindsay would feel if she saw this?”
“You once told me not to blame the mirror if you don’t like your reflection. Same with portraits. What people feel is not your problem. As an artist, your responsibility is to yourself.”
“My first responsibility to myself is staying alive,” Brian said dryly. “I consider any exhibition of my talent counter-productive to that objective.”
“Are you having a debate,” Gus asked.
“It would appear so,” Brian said, smiling at his son.
“And do you do that a lot?”
Brian shot Justin a quick look. “That one’s yours to answer.”
Justin thought for a moment. “No. Your dad doesn’t like to share his mind.”
Gus yawned. “You gotta keep asking. When he gets fed up, he tells you what you want to know just to shut you up.”
“Does that work for you?”
Gus nodded. “Daddy knows I keep coming back. In the end, he always answers.”
“Cool,” Justin grinned. “I’ll take your advice.”
“If you guys want to talk about me, maybe I should leave,” Brian said gruffly.
Gus giggled. “We don’t mind you staying, do we, Justin?”
“No,” Justin grinned. “Don’t leave us.”
Brian rolled his eyes and popped another tomato into his mouth. That was five tomatoes, and two slices of good, thick bread with peanut-butter and avocado. Plus two glasses of juice and some Evian. Pretty decent, Justin decided, even though Gus had also managed two slices of bread.
“I think you should do it together,” Gus said. “Show Justin’s portraits and yours right next to them, Daddy.”
Brian raised an eyebrow. “Really. Why would we do that, Gus?”
Gus shrugged. “Then people can see what they are like, and what they could be like.”
Brian sucked his lips into his mouth. “Do you think people would enjoy that?”
“Probably not,” Gus yawned. “But it would be good for them.”
“I think you should take a nap,” Brian suggested. “You’ve been yawning at us for a while now.”
Gus nodded. “I was up early. I’m tired. Can we stay here?”
“Sure. Go get the afghan from the drawer; I don’t want you to get cold.” Brian got up and pulled the loose cushions off the armchairs, leaving them on the floor for Gus to curl up on. He covered the boy with the afghan and tousled his hair. “Sleep well. We’ll save you some strawberries.”
“No, that’s alright. You and Justin eat them. I’ve had some earlier,” Gus yawned and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
