Chapter 11: "Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Daddy".

Pittsburg, The Loft, Night 2

My father taught me to be independent and cocky and free thinking, but he could not stand it if I disagreed with him.

Sara Maitland

He still didn't get much sleep that first night at the loft. Everything felt strange to Justin; strange, yet still familiar. Like in New York cars were passing loudly in the streets, but the background noises sounded different to his ear. It didn't take a genius to know it was because of the acoustic, the big space and the general setting of the loft, so much different from the ones the dive he was presently living in offered him.

The vehicles passing beneath the windows used to lull him to sleep; their humming familiar and comforting. Now, even though some parts of the blond's brain still recognized the sounds and associated them with some sense of familiarity, the artist couldn't shake off this unsettling feeling that it was simply different.

The buzzing of the fridge penetrated the bedroom. Justin knew that sound. He remembered falling asleep to it so many times he lost count. Brian's breathing. He knew it by heart: the exhalation, the inhalation. The wrestling against the tangled sheet as his lover changed position. Nevertheless, he wasn't used to sleep with him any longer. It felt weird. Everything felt so weird that first night.

Justin had all the knowledge, all his marks here in the Pitts, in the loft, beside Brian. Everything was exactly like when he had left seven months ago and then again, it was troubling as he compared it to what composed his new surroundings in New York. When had he stopped comparing NYC to the Pitts and started comparing Pittsburg to the Big Apple?

All it took was seven months. Just seven ridiculous months and his perception, his habits had changed. In the semi-darkness, he couldn't help but wonder how much time would suffice before he got used to having a dead dad?

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He spent half the night sitting in bed staring at the blinds. He wasn't even watching through the panels and windows. No, he was watching the blinds themselves. Sometimes some movement would distract him and he would turn his gaze on his beautiful partner sleeping next to him. Brian was exhausted. He had been keeping an eye on Justin for the past two days, never leaving him out of sight and unsuccessfully trying to be discrete. He hadn't had much sleep.

In the morning, Justin would meet his mum and grandmother and choose a coffin for his dad. He would have to select the music, the food they would eat. He would see his dad. His father's body -a corpse. He knew all that, but strangely, he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it. Everything seemed so unreal. It had felt unreal from the moment he had seen his lover standing in front of his door. It was like a dream, Brian surprising him just to "be with him". The dream had turned into a nightmare Justin couldn't wake up from.

He was too young to be doing all this. Yet, he was lucky. His sister was even younger. She was just a kid, not even the same age Justin was when he first lost his dad.

At seventeen Justin had lost his dad. At almost twenty-three he lost his father.

In his mind, it made a difference. A genitor is not a parent. Genitors give up their role. Parents embrace them. They educate and they love. Justin had a dad for seventeen years and then, he only had a father whose name he shared. That was it for him. But his sister, she still had a dad. And that made Justin sad and angry. At her, because she had what he didn't. At his dad, because the man had differentiated the love he was offering his two kids and forced Justin to discover the difference between a dad and a father. He was upset at fate, God or Mother Earth for making him feel that way; conflicted, lost. If only he could sort out what he was feeling. If only he could choose and stick to one emotion only. His thoughts were racing in his head. He couldn't find any peace, even in the quiet of the loft with his lover silently sleeping at his side.

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When the shadows were replaced by the morning light, Brian woke up to an empty loft. Justin had already left for his mum's. He had made coffee and unpacked Brian's bag.