Eventually, we touched down in Pittsburgh, and for me, things started to feel a bit more real. We were back “home” -- our first home -- but this time, we were there to say goodbye to someone we loved. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was something we had to do.

Brian, meanwhile, seemed content to stay in his own little world, watching the activity outside the window as airport workers started unloading baggage from the plane’s cargo hold. After everyone else was off the plane, a member of the flight crew brought the aisle chair to retrieve Brian, and he went through the motions again, without any of the usual complaints he would have had about the process. I led the way down the aisle of the plane, occasionally glancing back over my shoulder at Brian, who was demurely holding his knees together with his hands, his seat cushion and his carry-on bag on his lap.

We were dropped off at the bottom of the jetway, in the middle of a crowd of other passengers who were waiting for gate-checked bags that hadn’t yet been brought up. A few people bumped into Brian as they were picking up their suitcases, and I kept waiting for him to lose his patience and say something, but he never did. Finally, they brought his wheelchair up and we were free to go.

We made our typical stop at the restroom -- having to go pretty far before we found one that wasn’t closed for cleaning, since it was so late at night -- then continued on to baggage claim and ultimately the rental car counter, which was where things started to take a turn.

It began when Brian put his license down on the counter and the man behind the counter studied it carefully, turned to the computer and studied it as well, then leaned over the counter to look Brian up and down before declaring that he could only rent Brian a vehicle with hand controls and he didn’t have any available that night.

“It’s fine,” Brian said. “I brought my own.”

“I can’t let you do that, sir. It has to be our equipment,” the man said.

“I do it all the goddamned time. I did it just a few months ago. It’s never been a problem before.”

I could hear the edge starting to creep into Brian’s voice. I hoped he would be able to stay calm, but I also knew that his emotions were raw and probably on a hair trigger, and we were likely beginning to tread into dangerous territory.

“Well, I don’t know why no one has questioned it, but it’s against our policies to allow customers to install things in our vehicles.”

“You can’t refuse to rent me a car. I know my rights.”

“I’m not refusing to rent you a car -- I’m saying that you can’t use your own adaptive equipment. You’ll have to use ours. And I’m sorry, but I’m not able to accommodate you tonight. I can probably get something in by tomorrow night though, if that would work.”

“I need a car tonight,” Brian said. I could see the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. “I have somewhere I need to be. I need you to rent me the car I reserved.”

“I’m sorry sir, but I can’t do that. If you’re renting a car from us, you’ll have to wait until we can get one in with the appropriate equipment. For liability reasons, we can’t--”

“I don’t give a fuck about your fucking liability!” Brian interrupted the man with the explosion I’d been dreading. “I need a damn car, and you can’t refuse me!”

“Sir--”

“Don’t give me that bullshit about how you’re not refusing me, because you fucking are!”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave--”

“Not without the goddamned car I reserved!”

“Sir, I’ve already told you, I can’t do that.”

I laid my hand on Brian’s shoulder right when he opened his mouth to argue again. “Brian,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and hoping it would help calm Brian down too. “It’s okay. I’ll drive.”

“But you--”

“It’s fine. Go outside. I’ll take care of it.”

I knew that Brian’s anger wasn’t really about the car at all -- it was his grief manifesting itself, and the man from the car rental company just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, on the wrong end of a sticky situation. And, to be honest, I wasn’t sure Brian needed to be driving with as upset as he was at that moment, but I couldn’t say that, and I wasn’t going to.

I had to agree to be the only one driving the car, but I was able to complete the rental process and exit the building with keys in my hand. I hadn’t driven since my accident. I remembered how -- that wasn’t something I’d forgotten -- but it was a situation that simply hadn’t come up, since Brian and I lived in the city and he usually drove whenever we visited Pittsburgh.

I pushed our two suitcases out the sliding glass doors and looked around for Brian. I found him several yards away, his chair tilted backward so that his back and shoulders were against the wall. He had his head leaned against the wall too, and his eyes were closed.

“Hey,” I said gently as I walked up to him. “We’re all good now. I've got the keys.”

Brian opened his eyes and sighed as he came back upright. “Thanks,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” I reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I know that’s really frustrating, and it wasn’t what you needed tonight.”

“If you don’t want to drive, we can just take the car around the corner and--”

“It’s fine. I’ll drive.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise I didn’t forget how,” I laughed, trying to play off the tiny bit of anxiety that was rising up in me. “It’ll be fine. I’m fine.” Hopefully speaking those words aloud would help to make them come true.

As we made our way to the car, suitcases in tow, I could see in Brian’s posture and how he moved that he was exhausted. And I knew it wasn’t just physical -- it was mental, too. He’d had a very early morning at the office -- leaving before I was even out of the shower -- and then this.

Suddenly, I realized that I didn’t even know when he’d found out about Debbie. How long had he been dealing with this all on his own before he called me? Hopefully not for too long, but knowing Brian, he probably had taken some time to himself before he called me. He was much more open with his emotions now than he had been in the first few years we’d known each other, but he was still very much Brian, and it wasn’t easy for him to be vulnerable, even with me. He often had to warm up to it, and that meant some alone time to try to process whatever was happening and start to deal with his emotions on his own before he was willing to let me in to help.

We put the suitcases in the trunk, and I stood outside the car, trying to gather up all of the inner strength I could, as I watched Brian take apart his chair and put it in the back seat of the car. I reminded myself that I could do this. I needed to do this. It was necessary, and I needed to stay calm. This was a way for me to be there for Brian and be a good partner to Brian -- and for once, to not have that be directly related to Brian’s health.

He needed my emotional support right now, and in order to do that, I had to keep it together. I couldn’t fall apart. And that included being able to drive the 20 minutes or so to our house in Pittsburgh without freaking the fuck out.

Once Brian was settled in the car, I climbed into the driver’s seat, taking a deep breath almost involuntarily. It had become something of a habit in the last several months that any time I felt nervous or anxious, I’d end up taking one of those deep, cleansing breaths without even thinking about it.

I noticed Brian giving me a sidelong glance from the passenger seat.

“You’re sure?” he said, giving me one last chance to change my mind, which was more tempting than it probably should have been. Now that I’d seen how tired he was, I knew for sure there was no way Brian needed to be driving tonight.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said, smiling and hoping that it was more convincing than it felt. I started the car and put it in gear, and we were on our way.

The hardest part turned out to be the first minute, trying to get a feel for the gas and brake in an unfamiliar vehicle. And there was the weird feeling of my right hand against the steering wheel, because the sensation in it still didn’t quite match that of my left hand. (And at this point, it looked like it never would.) But I got past that, and soon we were on the freeway.

All I could do was keep telling myself that it was going to be okay -- that everything was fine. Repeating that to myself over and over again, like a mantra.

I also kept glancing at Brian in the passenger seat. He was staring out the window, much like he had been on the plane, looking every bit like he was trying to hold himself together, and finding that to be a difficult fight.

“Do you want to go to our house first?” I asked, taking my right hand off the steering wheel and laying it over his left, which was resting on his thigh. “Drop off our things, maybe take a minute to relax. It’s been a long day.”

“No,” he said flatly, still gazing out at the suburban landscape flying by outside the window. “I want to go to Michael’s first.”

“Okay,” I said, not really wanting to object even though part of me felt I should. I knew how badly Brian probably wanted and needed to be with Michael as soon as possible. They were basically brothers, and they were going to need each other to get through this.

So instead of turning down the street where our house was, I turned one corner and then another, soon pulling up in front of Michael and Ben’s house. Watching how much Brian was dragging as he got himself out of the car made me hurt for him -- it was plain to see how much this was affecting him. Probably more than he wanted to let on.

Michael and Ben already had their portable ramp set up outside just like they always did whenever Brian and I came to town. Brian stopped at the top and I heard him take a deep breath and let it out very slowly, before he raised his hand to knock on the door.

Ben answered, giving Brian and I each a hug as we entered their small foyer and turned to go into the living room, where Michael was sitting with Ted, Blake, Emmett, and Drew. Emmett got up and came over to me, sweeping me immediately into a hug and greeting me with a tearful, “Hey, baby. It’s so good to see you.”

When Emmett let me go, I could see Michael and Brian at one end of the couch, embracing each other -- Michael on the couch and Brian in his chair. Brian was rubbing Michael’s back gently, and his eyes were closed. Michael had his face buried in Brian’s shoulder, sobbing quietly. Brian opened his eyes briefly and made eye contact with me. He looked lost and desperate and like he wanted to break down too, but he closed his eyes and took a breath, tightening his hold on Michael.