Time After Time 4 страница

And I didn’t like thinking about that.

I took a deep breath and blinked hard, willing the tears away.

“You have to eat, ” I said.

He opened his mouth like he was going to reply, when his cel phone rang.

I grabbed it off the desk and yanked it open. “Hello? ”

“Gus? ” Michael asked.

“Uncle Mikey, is… what…” I couldn’t even form a sentence. That was fast. That was too fast. Mom had just talked to him. It had to be bad news. FUCK.

“He’s going to be okay, ” Michael said.

I felt dizzy, and this time, I did cry.

“His fever is down. They’re… they’re putting him back on his meds. He’s going to be okay.” Michael was crying, too.

I laughed, crying at the same time, and handed the phone to my father, who looked terrified. He obviously thought the worst had happened.

“Uncle Ben’s okay, ” I said.

He grabbed the phone from me, moving faster than I’d seen him move in days.

“Michael? ” he said, his voice strained.

I couldn’t hear Uncle Mikey’s end of the conversation, but dad’s told me everything I needed to hear.

“That… that’s good, ” he said. “Fuck. I… tell Ben…” he shook his head helplessly. “Tell him it’s about time.”

I heard Michael on the other end, laughing faintly.

“We’ll be there tomorrow, ” he said.

After he hung up, he turned to me and stared at me, as if he was only just realizing I was there.

“Uncle Ben is going to be okay, ” I said, smiling.

“He has to stay in the hospital another week, to make sure he’s stable. But he’s going to be okay, ” dad said.

I felt light. I felt euphoric. Uncle Ben was going to be okay. Fuck, I’d been so scared.

“And this means you can all Justin, right? ” I asked eagerly. “You can call him and tell him Uncle Ben is okay, and to come home! ”

Dad’s face got this guilty, strained look and he shook his head. “I’m sure someone else will tell him.”

“What?! ” I stood up, trembling. He wasn’t going to call him. “FUCK you, dad! What’s your problem?! You can call him! You can ask him to come home! ”

“I can’t, ” he said, his voice strained.

“YES you CAN! You just won’t because of your STUPID pride! All you have to do is call him and tell him you’re SORRY! ” I couldn’t believe it. Dad was such an IDIOT. He HAD to call him! He had to!

“It has nothing to do with that, ” he said, avoiding my eyes.

“Then what does it have to do with?! Why the fuck won’t you just call him and apologize and… and ask him to come home?! ” Fuck. My voice was getting shaky. But I was so fucking scared. I couldn’t DO this much longer. I couldn’t FIX this.

“If he wanted to be here, he’d be here, ” is all he said.

“He does want to! He LOVES you! ” I shouted. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to yell and punch him and make him REACT, make him act like he felt SOMETHING.

“Sometimes that’s not enough, ” he said calmly.

“You’re such an asshole! ” I yelled.

He just smirked. “So I’ve heard.”

That was it. That was all I could handle. I grabbed my phone and ran, out of the office, up the stairs, and to my room. I slammed to door and threw myself on the bed and cried. Fuck, I felt like such a girl. I felt like such a weak, pathetic loser, but I couldn’t help it. I was fucking terrified. If Justin didn’t come back soon… dad would…

I sat up and dialed Justin’s number.

Only he didn’t answer. Of course not.

As soon as the beep sounded, I went off.

“You’re such an ASSHOLE. You haven’t called, you haven’t checked on us at all! Do you know how bad off dad is?! Do you have any idea how he feels?! I HATE YOU.” I paused for a long moment, trying to catch my breath. “Uncle Ben’s going to be okay. You should go see him, at least. That is, if you give a shit about ANYONE but yourself! ”

I hung up and threw my phone across the room, but it wasn’t enough. I was so fucking angry that it pulsed through my veins, making my head throb. I felt hot all over. I thought about the way Justin had promised, fucking promised not to leave again. I thought about how dad was slowly fucking dying inside. I thought about how both of them had said the stupidest things, and forgotten about me. Neither of them gave a shit about what happened to me. Justin left. He was supposed to me my dad. He let me call him that, so he was supposed to act like one. Instead, he LEFT. He LEFT, just like dad always did. The minute something went wrong, dad sunk in on himself, and Justin runs away, and I’m left. Alone. And I couldn’t call mom, and I couldn’t tell anyone, because then something worse would happen.

It was all I could take.

I fisted my hand and pulled back, punching the wall as hard as I could.

The wall gave way, and my fist went through.

I breathed, hard and deep, feeling the anger slowly seep out of me.

Then I pulled my hand out, went to the bathroom, cleaned myself up, and went downstairs to make dad a sandwich.

He had to eat.

***

“Secrets are made to be found out in time. -Charles Sanford

Chapter 10

You’re such an ASSHOLE. You haven’t called, you haven’t checked on us at all! Do you know how bad off dad is?! Do you have any idea how he feels?! I HATE YOU. Uncle Ben’s going to be okay. You should go see him, at least. That is, if you give a shit about ANYONE but yourself!

I shut my cell phone and lean against the red bricks of the Education building. I let out my breath that I had been holding since I saw that Gus had called and retrieved my voicemails.

He hates me.

I don’t blame him.

And Brian was bad off? Well, that makes two of us. I could barely get myself up in the morning to go to school. I spent most of my nights in front of Daphne’s TV, doing homework, eating junk food and watching reality shows. What had my life come to?

I guess that is what it’s like to be without Brian.

I fucking hated it.

God, I know I was wrong. I know I shouldn’t have left. I promised Brian. Time after time. I won’t leave. I promise. I’m staying this time.

Leave it to me to break a promise.

But that’s what I do, right? I always do this. No wonder Brian was so scared when I first came back. He expected me to go again.

And I did.

I am an asshole. Gus is right. I don’t deserve Brian. I don’t deserve Gus. This family I always wanted and I finally got, I destroyed.

I left.

I broke my promise.

And now it was too late. How do I fix this? Brian won’t take me back now. Why should he?

But god he hurt me. Every horrible thing I ever felt about myself he unleashed.

That I was the cheater.

That I was a slut.

No matter what anyone says, I’m not sure I can ever forget those things.

But Ben was going to be ok. And right now, in the greater scheme of things, that’s all that really mattered. So after class I decided to go to the hospital. I hadn’t been there all week and as much as I was afraid of running into Brian or having everyone ask me a million and one questions, I needed to see Ben. He was my friend. Michael was my friend.

And I was a schmuck.

The first person I saw when I arrived at the hospital was Ted. His eyes got wide with concern and he rushed to me.

“Justin! Jesus…are you ok? ” He asked, frantic.

“Yea, Ted. I’m fine.” My voice was low and unconvincing.

“Brian’s been… really…” He must really be bad off. The look on Ted’s face wasn’t good.

“Is he…ok? ” I asked softly. I couldnt even look at Ted.

“You know Bri. He puts on a good game face. But, I know, we all know, he’s a mess.”

I nodded.

“What happened, Justin? ”

I finally looked at him, trying to blink back tears.

“I can’t…” I could barely get any words out.

“Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.” Ted’s voice was sincere. I nodded.

“Is he awake? ” I looked down the hall to where Ben’s room is. I saw Michael outside talking to Hunter.

“He’s resting right now. They’re sending him home the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” I whispered. Why was I whispering?

“Justin, you look like shit. Did you eat today? ” Ted put a hand on my shoulder.

“No, I uh…I was at school all morning.”

“Why don’t you grab something? At least some coffee.” I nodded and headed down the hallway toward the vending machines.

God, I felt like shit. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally too. Fuck. Me and my stupid pride. Why the fuck couldn’t I just keep my fucking mouth shut? Why do I need to unload every fucking feeling or thought in my head onto Brian? Maybe Brian had the right idea. Hide your feelings, bury your emotions and no one gets hurt. Nothing is said that could possibly damage another. Maybe I was the crazy one.

As I was hitting the button for the coffee I wanted, light no sugar, I heard a strange man’s voice behind me.

“Justin Taylor? Is that you? ”

I turned slowly to see a male nurse standing behind me. He must have been around Brian’s age.

“Oh my god, it is you! ” His eyes were wide and he was smiling from ear to ear.

“I’m sorry, but do I know you? ” I asked nicely. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I fucked him. Maybe Brian and I both fucked him. Damned if I knew.

“I’m Miguel. I was your nurse on duty, like, wow, 15 years ago. When you had your….accident.”

“My accident? ” What the hell was he….OH. Accident. 15 years ago. FUCK.

The bashing.

“Oh, hi. I’m sorry. It’s been so long. And a lot of that I don’t really remember.” I shook his hand and smiled. He seemed really nice.

“No, it’s ok. It was a long time ago. So, wow. You look great. You know, I always wondered what had happened to you. How you made out. Did you ever draw again? ” He fumbled with his clipboard.

“Actually, yes. I spent 10 years in New York painting. I even had my own gallery for a while.” I smiled at him. It was the first time I’d smiled in a week.

“Wow, Justin. That is so great! I’m really happy things worked out.” He touched my arm and I caught a faint glimpse of brown hair bobbing down the hallway by Ben’s room.

I gasped and my heart stopped.

Brian.

Fuck.

Miguel turned his head to see where my attention had been drawn to and smiled brightly.

“He’s a looker. You’re very lucky.”

“Huh? ” I asked, being broken out of my daze.

“Brian, right? That’s his name? You’re lucky. Can’t believe you guys are still together after all these years.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.” I shook my head at him. He cocked his head to the side.

“You and Brian.” He smiled again. “I’ve never seen anyone like him before. The way he sat here every night that you were here. Sometimes till 6 in the morning, just to make sure you woke up. That’s love.”

What was he talking about?

“Miguel, I’m not really sure you know what you’re talking about. Brian…wasn’t here. The first night maybe, when they brought me in. But after that, no. I think you have him confused with someone else. Or me.”

He laughed. “He never told you did he? That shit.” He looked down the hall. I followed his gaze and Brian’s eyes meet mine. He winced when he sees who I am talking to.

“I….” I couldn’t even find the words. He was here. Every night. After all those times I asked why he didn’t come. He lied. Time after time.

Why didn't you come and see me?

What for?

Considering I was in a comma for two weeks, in rehab for a month, trying to relearn how to throw a fucking wiffleball. You should have at least called to see if I were still alive.

I'm sure I would have heard if you weren't. Besides, I'm not your occupational therapist, I'm not your trauma specialist, I'm not even your god damn mother sitting there holding your hand. I mean, there’s nothing I could have done for you.

I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. 14 fucking years I thought he didn’t come see me. 14 fucking years I lived with that. How could Brian claim to love me as much as he did, take care of me, miss so much when I left him for Ethan, want to fucking marry me, when he couldn’t even come and visit me ONCE when I was lying in the hospital.

I had thought that all these years. It’s something I had lived with. Something that ate at me. Something I put into the back of my head because Brian showed me he loved me in other ways. In so many other ways.

But I never forgot.

One more thing I will never forget.

FUCK.

Miguel reached out and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Justin, are you ok? I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean….”

I put up my hand. “No, it’s ok. I just haven’t really eaten today. I’m just a little light headed. I think…” My eyes fell on Brian again and I felt as though my heart might burst. My chest was so tight, I could hardly breathe.

“…I’m just gonna go…” Home? What home? What the fuck home do I have? All I have are lies. What the fuck is true anymore?

“I have to go.” I ran down the hallway, right past Ted. Right past Michael who reached out to grab me but I was too fast. And right past Brian who looked like he hasn’t slept in days. Our shoulders bumped and I almost hit the wall.

“Justin…” His voice was soft but firm. I just kept going. I just kept running.

I climbed into my car, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. But I could feel. I felt everything all at once.

But one feeling took over more than the others.

I started to punch my steering wheel, the horn blaring with each strike.

I hit it over and over until my knuckles were bleeding.

I don’t care.

I kept hitting it until the white leather on the steering wheel turns as red as my hands. I brought my bloodied hands to my face and cry.

All I could do now is cry.

***

You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be. – Chuck Palahniuk

Chapter 11

Silence greeted me when I entered the house. I could tell immediately that Gus wasn’t home, although it was already past midnight. For a second I was worried, and then I remembered that it was Friday, and he was at Joey’s for the night. I put down my keys and wallet, slipped off my shoes, tossed my jacket aside, and went to my office.

I didn’t make any food. I wasn’t hungry. Cynthia had tried to make me eat before I left Kinnetik today, but I lied and told her I would at the hospital. Michael tried to make me eat at the hospital, but I lied and said I already had at work. I didn’t want to eat. I wasn’t hungry. Lasagna wasn’t going to make me feel better. I wasn’t Italian, like Mikey. I was Irish.

I poured myself a large glass of Beam, put on a record, and sat down in my usual spot on the floor. Every day since… things changed, Gus made me dinner. At first I’d tried to eat a little, but eventually I stopped. Today was the first day there wasn’t a sandwich waiting for me. I guess he’d given up.

It was about time I gave up, too.

Ben was fine. He was exhausted, and weak, and shaken, but he was going to be okay. He’d leave the hospital in a few days, a week at most, and he’d be fine. This meant that Michael was also fine. He was also exhausted and weak and shaken, but he was fine. Ben was coming home. He didn’t need me to sit there and hold his hand anymore, or tell him everything was going to be okay.

Which was good, because I was too tired to do it anymore.

When I’d seen Justin at the hospital, I thought I might actually be able to fix things. I thought now that Ben was okay, we could work things out. Then I saw him speaking to that nurse, and I knew. This was bad.

I didn’t remember his name, but that nurse had been there almost the entire time Justin was in the hospital. He’d talked to me. Brought me coffee. He knew who I was. He knew who Justin was. And he knew that I’d been there.

Somehow I’d forgotten that Justin didn’t know. It was so fucking long ago. But when he ran past me, and we bumped shoulders, I felt it.

He knew.

And he was never, ever coming back now.

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be pissed about the things he’d said when we’d fought, but I’d already forgotten what they were. I wanted to be angry that he’d left again, even after promising so many fucking times that he wouldn’t, but I couldn’t. He had every right to go. It was for the best, just like I always knew it was.

At least I’d had a few months before it happened.

But this time, there wouldn’t be another ten years apart before he returned. I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t move on, because I hadn’t been able to move on since the first night I brought him home. I couldn’t wait anymore, because I knew that this was it. He wasn’t coming back.

I was just working myself down into a nice, deep depression, when the phone rang.

Justin.

“Hey, ” I said. If he’d called the day before, I might have felt a rush at seeing his name on my caller ID. But this was today, and today I knew that it was really over. So there was no hope. There was no rush.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? ”

He’d been crying. He was angry, furious, seething. His throat was raw, and his voice was hoarse. “I didn’t want to, ” was all I could say.

“You lied. All this time, I thought the one thing I could count on from you was the truth. I’ve been waiting since the day I woke up from that coma to know where the FUCK you were, why the FUCK you weren’t there! And how the fuck could you say you LOVED me, if you didn’t care enough to fucking visit me in the hospital when I could have DIED?! ”

I shut my eyes and frowned. “Are you hurt? ” I asked.

“What? ” he asked, clearly taken aback.

“You’re hurt, ” I said. It was obvious, from the way he was talking. He was in pain, and not just fucking emotionally.

“I’m fine! ” he shouted. “Fucking listen to me! ”

I shut my mouth and nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. Until now, our fights had always been heated, exhausting, passionate. But I didn’t feel any of that this time. This time I just couldn’t bring myself to feel it. I’d felt more in the past week than I had in years. I wasn’t used to it. I was shut down. I was comfortably fucking numb. And that was okay. Because Justin wasn’t coming back.

“If you had told me… if you have fucking TOLD ME that you’d been there, I never would have left! I wouldn’t have left you for Ethan, I wouldn’t have gone to LA, I wouldn’t have gone to ml: namespace prefix = st1 /> New York, I-“

“That’s why, ” I said.

“FUCK YOU, BRIAN, ” he yelled again, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “Do you have ANY IDEA how much it’s fucking HURT?! How much it’s KILLED me to know that you didn’t GIVE A FUCK? To know that you were NEVER there?! And now I find out you WERE?! You let me feel that for YEARS.”

“Now you know, ” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I’m sorry? That wasn’t going to cut it. Sorry’s bullshit. I couldn’t explain to him that his own mother had known, and hadn’t told him, and clearly didn’t want me to. She didn’t need to get this from him. He needed her. Besides, it was my decision.

“Is that it?! Is that all you have to say?! ” he asked, practically sobbing.

“I guess so, ” I replied.

I heard him make this noise that he always makes, when he’s really, really upset. Then there was a click, and he was gone. He’d hung up.

I shut my phone and set it aside, and thought. I poured myself another glass and drank it down quickly, the burn soothing.

I’d become just like my parents in the end.

I’d hurt, lied to, and driven away the one person that really gave a fuck, that really loved me. I’d turned to fucking drinking myself into oblivion because, just like my folks, I was too weak to deal with the reality of my own fucking stupid decisions. And then, icing on the cake, I’d hurt Gus.

Gus was practically an adult at fifteen, and the formative years were long past. He was his own man now, whether his mothers liked it or not. He was smarter and more responsible than anyone else his age, and even if he still made stupid, teenage fuckups, they weren’t huge. Hell, he was already more mature and fucking up less than me now.

He didn’t need me anymore. All I was doing was hurting him.

I poured another glass and drank it, and then another.

He was better off with his mothers after all. Finally, my first chance to be a full-time dad, and I fucked it up. Good job, Brian.

Michael was fine. He was better off with Ben. I’d performed my best friend duty, and I wouldn’t be needed anymore.

Justin would be fine. All I was doing was hurting him. He didn’t need me. He was better off in New York, before he’d come back and let me fuck up his life all over again.

And here I was, completely drunk, completely fucked up, and wallowing in self pity.

Brian Fucking Kinney doesn’t do self pity. Brian Fucking Kinney doesn’t do love. Brian Fucking Kinney doesn’t live past thirty.

What a fucking joke.

Maybe I should have tied the scarf a little tighter that time. If only I’d started a few minutes sooner, Michael would have been too late.

Maybe I really should have gone to Ibiza instead of getting my ball removed.

Then none of this would have happened. Then I wouldn’t be an old, pathetic, self-pitying, drunken loser.

Did I really want to continue doing this shit to myself? Did I really want to stick around to fuck up Gus’ life more? To FEEL this way more? To live to a ripe old age and not only deal with disease and the gradual decomposition of my fucking body and mind, but also to do it alone? Without Justin?

No. I didn’t want that at all.

But I was too drunk, too fucking exhausted to think about it anymore. So I got up and locked the door to my office, so that Gus couldn’t come in and see me passed out drunk again when he got home. He didn’t need that shit. Then I lay down on the blankets that Gus had brought me, and opened another bottle of Beam.

In the back of my mind, I knew that drinking so much and having barely eaten for days was probably a bad idea. But I really didn’t care anymore. If I died from alcohol poisoning, I wouldn’t really mind. It would save me the trouble later, of having to make decisions about that sort of thing myself.

So I drank the last bottle, and passed out on the floor.

“To regret something is to hang yourself with your own noose.” –Anonymous

Chapter 12

“You need to get here NOW. He won’t open the door! The door is LOCKED and he’s NOT ANSWERING ME! This is all YOUR FAULT!!! NOW! COME NOW!!! ”

Gus’ frantic and terrified voice rang in my ears as I did 90 down the turnpike towards the house. All my anger, my pain, my resentment toward Brian that I had felt over the past week was gone. Pure fear consumed me then. I had to get to him. The only thing I could wrap my brain around was “I have to get to Brian. I have to get to Brian.”

This was all my fault. Gus was right. If he died…if he had…it would be on my head. Forever. I wouldn’t be able to live with that. I couldn’t live with that. If he died….I’d die too.

I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that. I knew how Brian worked. I knew WHY he didn’t tell me. But it didn’t take the pain away. But that is what I do. I yell and scream and cry and then it’s over. He fucks me into bliss and holds me afterwards and it’s over.

That’s what I should have done. I should have gone home last night, yelled and screamed and then jumped into his arms and have him fuck me against the wall of his office. Or his desk. Or the fridge. Or on the stairs. Anywhere. Anyhow.

But that isn’t what I did. And now look what happened.

Oh god. Oh god. If he’s dead. If he….

I promise I’ll make it better. I promise I’ll come back home. Just please please please….

I screeched into the driveway and before I could even get out of my car I saw Gus waving his arms and I heard him screaming at the top of his lungs from the front door.

“What the fuck TOOK YOU SO LONG!!! ” His face was red, he was sweating and he had been crying. Oh god. Gus. Jesus, please please please let him Brian be ok. Don’t do this to Gus. Please please please….

I barreled past him into the house and straight to his office door. Locked.

I pounded on the door. “BRIAN! BRIAN! ”

“It won’t work! I’ve tried that! Don’t you think I’VE TRIED THAT!!!!!???? ” Gus can’t even breathe.

Ok, Ok, think Justin. You can do this.

OH!!!

“Gus listen to me. Go up to the bedroom and go into the top drawer of the long dresser, okay? Look under all the socks. There is going to be a long, old key in there. Get it and bring it to me.” He was up the stairs before I could even get all the words out.

Thank god for old houses. They always had a skeleton key.

I put my hand and ear to the door. Silence. Complete silence.

“Brian…please…” I whispered against the door.

“Here! ” Gus shoved the key in my face as he ran back to me. I blinked.

“JUSTIN FUCK HERE!!!!!!!! ” He shoved the key into my hand.

Ok Taylor. Get a grip. You can do this.

I put the key into the lock and at first it wouldn’t work. I’m cursing under my breath as I worked it into the lock carefully.

“Why isn’t it working!? ” Gus screamed.

“Gus you need to calm down, okay? ”

He shut up right away. He was ringing his hands and tears were streaming down his face.

I finally got the lock open with a loud click and I don’t think I had ever felt so relieved in my life. Not that I wouldn’t have broken down the door. I think in that state of panic, my adrenaline would have taken over and I probably could have pushed a fucking car over.

As soon as the door opened the stench of vomit and liquor filled my nose.

“DAD!!! ” Gus rushed towards Brian’s motionless body on the floor.

“Gus NO! ” I grabbed him and pulled him back. I kneeled down next to Brian. He was pale and I’m not sure if he was breathing.

“DO SOMETHING!!!! ” Gus was screaming in my ear but its like I was under water. I couldn’t do anything but stare at Brian’s face. No please please. I promise I’ll make this better. Just please god, don’t let this be it….

I put my ear to his chest. I heard a faint slow heartbeat.

“Gus go get me some water.” I barked at him and slapped Brian’s face a few times.

“Brian. Wake up. Come on Brian! FUCK JUST WAKE UP! ”

Nothing.

No movement.

No nothing.

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! YOU ARE NOT DOING THIS TO US YOU UNDERSTAND! YOU’RE NOT FUCKING DYING ON ME! ” I pulled him up to my body and his head rolled back.

“Here.” Gus looked like he was ready to throw up. I took the bottle of water and poured it over Brian’s face. I smacked him a few more times.

“BRIAN!!!!!!!!!! ” I screamed into his face.

All of a sudden he burst into a fit of coughs and spit water out all over himself and me.

I immediately burst into tears.

Gus was right behind me.

I hugged him close to my body and rocked him back at forth. He was awake but barely coherent.