VERSE TWO Chapter Five

JUSTIN

"Hi, Mom."

She stands in the doorway staring at me. She looks thinner, older.

Her eyes, so like mine in colour, are huge.

Then her face seems to break; she reaches for me, her hands shaking.

"Justin! Oh, sweetheart!"

She folds me in her arms, hugs me, rocks me; her tears soak into the collar of my shirt.

I feel like a piece of shit.

Wiping her face, smearing mascara over her cheeks, she pulls me into the hallway, hanging onto my arm as if she's afraid to let me go. I let her lead me into the lounge; it's comfortable, elegant, feminine; and I remember that this home is hers and Molly's – never has been, never will be, mine. After all, I only ever spent a couple of weeks here: now it feels like the house of a stranger. She tugs me down onto the plush, cream coloured couch beside her. She starts weeping again.

"Mom … please don't." I've hardly ever seen her cry, not even after I was bashed, and I can't stand to see it now. It makes me think of all the tears she must have shed while I've been gone, and really, I'm not worth that amount of pain.

She pulls back a little, grabs my shoulders, gives me a hard shake. "Don't you dare tell me not to cry, not after all these months! Not after what you've put me through … and Brian … Debbie…Daphne…how could you have done that to us all, Justin?"

I wince inwardly, even though I know how well I deserve her anger. Part of the reason I ran was to stop hurting the people who cared for me; now I'm back, and it's started all over again.

Damn Henry and his meddling … they'd have forgotten all about me eventually and got on with their lives. Now everything's about me again.

"I'm sorry, Mom." It's true. I'm so, so sorry. "I just…" I swallow. "I was pretty screwed up. I just thought it would be better for everyone if I wasn't around."

Her expression softens a little. "Sweetheart, I know what happened … about Brian and Ethan. I know how hurt you must have been. But not to even let us know that you were okay … Justin, I don't know if I can forgive you for that! Don't you realise I thought you were dead?"

I don't say anything. What can I say?

"Well." She pulls a tissue from the sleeve of her jumper and dabs her face with it. "That's all in the past, now. You're home, that's all that matters." She gives me a watery smile, looks at me properly for the first time. "You've lost weight." Her hand reaches out to brush back my hair. "And you need a haircut."

"I don't know," I reply, moving my head away from her touch. "I kind of like it."

"Does Brian?" she laughs.

"Don't know. Doesn't matter."

She looks at me strangely. "Justin…"

"Don't, Mom. Brian's just a friend, like everyone tried to tell me. I'm crashing at the Loft until I find a place, that's all. Don't read anything into it."

"Sweetheart, I'm really glad you're going to get your own apartment – I'm sure you need your own space right now. But I think you're wrong about how Brian feels … you didn't see him while you were gone, Justin … you don't know…"

"That's where you're wrong, I do know," I interrupt a little more harshly than I'd intended. "And since when are you on Brian's side? You never wanted me to be with him in the first place. Nobody did. Now I finally know what everyone else always did, that Brian will always and only be Brian, you're trying to change my mind again?"

"No, of course not." She laughs a little, nervously. "But if that's how you really feel about Brian, do you think it's wise to stay with him? You always have your room here … why not stay with us until you're settled?"

Because of this, Mom. The endless questions. The endless concern. The way you always worry about me. And however nervous I may feel about being back in the Loft, at least I know Brian won't fucking smother me.

"I'm eighteen," I tell her, and I can hear the irritation in my voice. "I left home two years ago. I'm not going to move back."

"Sweetheart, the last thing I want to do is fight with you, today of all days." She reaches out to me again. "So, where have you been, what have you been doing?"

I shrug. "Got out of town. Got myself a job."

"Doing what?" She's trying to act normal, but it's a false brightness.

"Nothing much. I took care of myself."

"Well, at least you had the sense to come back home at last."

I might not tell her everything, but fucked if I'll lie. "I came back because Brian brought me. He didn't give me a choice."

I see the hurt in her eyes, but she covers it quickly. "How did Brian find you?"

"A mutual acquaintance. He ran into me, told Brian where I was. End of story."

I can see she's welling up again. "What are you saying? You wouldn't ever have come back?"

"I don't know, Mom," I tell her truthfully. "One day, I guess. It was just good for me, having to work things out for myself, instead of having everyone look after me because they felt sorry about what happened."

She stares at me. "That was never the case, Justin."

I let it go. I know better, but I haven't got the energy to argue the point. Besides, I've hurt her enough already.

"So have you seen Debbie? Or Daphne?"

"No, you were first on my list. I'll go see Daph when I leave here."

"I'm sure Deb will want to throw a big welcome home party for you."

"Mm." I'm sure she will, as soon as she stops beating me over the head. But a celebration over Little Lost Justin's return is so not going to happen; Deb's just going to have to live with it. "How's Mollusc?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Growing," Mom replies, with a genuine smile this time. "And she's missed you too, Justin. She'll be home from school anytime now, she'll be so happy to see you."

Somehow I doubt that. My little sister never liked me that well even when I'd been living at home, and usually she'd irritated the shit out of me. Too much of an age difference, I guess. And I really don't think I can handle any more of the Prodigal Son's return at the moment, so I give Mom a quick peck on the cheek and stand up. "Sorry, Mom, but I'll have to catch up with her some other time. I want to see Daph when she gets home from college, and then I need to start looking for a place. I don't want to inconvenience Brian more than I have to."

She can't hide her disappointment; she catches my hand again, holds on. "I thought you'd be staying for dinner. We have so much to talk about, sweetheart."

"I know. Just not right now. I need some space, Mom. Please try to understand."

She looks at me again with the same worried, confused expression I've seen Brian wearing; but, thank God, she doesn't press the point. Instead she nods and stands up, still holding onto my hand. "Well, at least you must let me help you find an apartment. I've got lots of contacts, you know," she says, trying to laugh. "And there's furniture in storage from the old place – I'm sure I can fix you up with the essentials."

"Mom, you don't need to help me out. After what I've put you through, why would you want to?"

"Because you're my son and I love you. What other reason would I need?"

And then she's throwing her arms round me, sobbing again, telling me how glad she is to see me; and I hug her back, and think I should be crying, too, for her if not for me. For how much I've hurt her.

But I haven't cried since the night I ran out of the Loft, and I sometimes think I never will again. Because that feeling, loving, hurting part of me died in that cold, empty warehouse: and what's dead doesn't return. I don't believe in ghosts.

"You asshole! I could fucking kill you!" Daph yells, punching my arm, and I wince. She's got a helluva right hook.

She's gone from tears to fury in an instant; and I wonder, what is it with women? First they fall all over you, then they beat you up. I remember that I've got to go through all this again with Deb and Linds and Mel yet, and sigh. I'm going to be black and blue by the time they're finished.

"I'm sorry, Daph," I tell her, wondering how many times I'll have to say that phrase before it becomes meaningless - just so many more words. Words like I love you or forever or home. Just cant.

"I can understand you not wanting Brian to know where you were, or even your Mom, but me? I'm your best friend, Justin! Didn't you think you could trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Daph. That wasn't the problem. I'd have come to you when it happened if I could … but you weren't here, and I just had to get out of Pittsburgh. I was fucking freaked, Daph. I didn't know what to do."

She mops her face with a wad of toilet paper. "Okay, I can totally get that. But why not later? You can't tell me you didn't know how worried I was! That was fucking cruel, Justin. And I never thought you were like that."

I grab her arms and make her look at me. "I know! Okay? I know it was cruel, Daph! And I meant to let you know I was alright, honestly I did. But as time went on, it just seemed easier to leave it."

"Easier for who?" she blares. "For you, maybe; not for me!"

I take a deep breath. "I was working as a male escort." There, I've said it.

Daphne's head comes up, and her eyes are suddenly so wide it would be funny if she didn't look so fucking shocked. "Omygod! You were … Justin, you weren't. You couldn't have!"

"Well, I did. After I walked in on Brian fucking Ethan, I totally lost it. I ended up spending the night in some abandoned warehouse. I didn't know what to do, Daph. All I knew was that I couldn't come back … couldn't face Brian. I felt such a fucking idiot. So the next morning I got on the first Greyhound I could find and ended up in Baltimore with fucking nothing except a few dollars and a sketch pad. This guy found me in the bus depot, liked the look of me. He knew I was a runaway – I guess he's seen enough of them. He offered me a job working as an escort. I figured, what the hell. It was better than sleeping on the streets. And it paid better than bussing tables."

Daphne's looking at me with a mixture of horror, disbelief and admiration. "So you just … took money for being with guys? Jesus, Justin! Did you let them fuck you?"

I shrug. "Sometimes. Sometimes all they really did want was my company."

"Weren't you scared? I mean, what if one of them hurt you or something?"

"It wasn't like that. They were all businessmen, usually older guys. Not perverts. I wasn't a fucking rent-boy, Daph."

Daphne's expression tells me she doesn't really see the difference. "Well, I guess I can understand why you wouldn't want your Mom to know that."

"I'm not ashamed, Daph. I was taking care of myself, I had my own place. But, yeah, obviously I knew Mom would freak about it ... so would everyone else. And I've caused them enough grief. And anyway, it was nobody else's business." I sigh. "I thought they'd never have to find out. I didn't expect one of my regulars to find out who I was and to contact Brian. And then Brian showed up in Baltimore and virtually dragged me back home."

"So Brian's the only one who knows?"

"And now you."

She pushes her hair back from her face and gives herself a shake. "Well, I don't know about you, but I need a coffee."

"Sure. Am I allowed to smoke in here?"

Daph gives me a duh look and heads for the kitchen. I dig my tin out of my pack and roll up on my knee, then light the cigarette and sit back, looking around. The apartment is tiny and there's plenty of evidence of occupation; slippers and various other items of female clothing are scattered around, and text books clutter the coffee table. I guess Daph's room-mates aren't exactly tidy.

Daph comes back from the kitchen carrying two mugs. I move some of the books out of the way so she can put the drinks down on the coffee table, then she sits beside me. "What's this?" she demands, taking my roll-up and sniffing it suspiciously.

"Nothing to get excited about," I tell her. "I started rolling my own because they're cheaper. And the liquorice paper makes the tobacco taste better."

She takes an experimental drag, then grimaces and hands it back. "Looks kinda cool, though," she comments. "Like a tiny cigar."

I nod agreement. We sit in companionable silence for a while, sipping coffee. Daph lights one of her own cigarettes, and then looks at me. "So. What are you going to do?"

I shrug. "I'm getting a place of my own. Brian says there's enough money from the Rage sales."

"Wow, really, Justin? That's great!" She gets all happy and bubbly, and it's nice. It's been a long time since anyone was pleased for me.

"Mom's going to help me look, and she says there's a lot of furniture in storage that I can have if I want … I'm not sure that I do, though."

"How come?"

"I want it to be my place, Daph, not furnished by my mother. Besides, I don't need much. Maybe a bed … a microwave. I think my old TV's there. I'll probably take that. And Brian says I've got to take the computer he bought me because it's taking up too much space."

She looks serious all of a sudden. "What's happening with you and him, anyway?"

"There is no me and him, Daph," I remind her. "There never has been."

She puts this really, Justin look on her face. "He went all the way to fucking Baltimore to get you, didn't he?"

"Well, of course he did. That's Brian. He makes these grand gestures sometimes."

"Yeah, but Justin, it still shows he cares."

I stub my cigarette out in the ashtray. "That's never been in doubt. Just not the way I wanted him to."

She studies me silently for a moment then laughs a little uneasily. "Wow. Who are you and what have you done with my friend?" I raise my eyebrows at her questioningly. "Since when did you ever doubt that you and Brian were destined by Fate to be together?"

"Since I grew up."

There's silence again, but this time it isn't so comfortable.

"So are you going back to college?"

"Don't know."

"Because, like, I guess you wouldn't have heard; but, um, Ethan, he…"

"Won the Heifetz," I finish for her. "Yeah, Brian told me." I finish my coffee and put the mug back on the table. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet. Work on the next issue of Rage, maybe. All I'm thinking about at the moment is getting my own place. Then I'll see." I tuck my tobacco tin back in my pack and stand up. "Don't get pissed at me, but I'm heading back to the Loft. It's been a long day and it was kind of rough with Mom. I'm whacked."

Daph gets up and stands there, picking at her nails, the way she always does when she's nervous. "Are we okay?" she asks, looking at me out of the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry I made it rough for you, too."

"I deserved it." I give her a hug, and after a minute she hugs me back.

"I won't tell anyone, Justin. I mean, about Baltimore and – you know. You're right, it's not anybody else's business."

"Thanks, Daph," I say, meaning it. I know I can trust her. She's the only one who knew me before Brian, before Chris Hobbs, before I turned into someone else. All the others were his friends first - they tolerated me because of him - and if I hadn't been bashed … if Brian hadn't decided to take me in and look after me… then by now my grand passion would have died a natural death. Brian would have gone to New York like he always wanted and the rest of us would have drifted apart. But Daph – she's all mine.

"I'm so glad you're home, Justin," she says into my shoulder. "I love you."

"You too, Daph," I whisper. "Always have, always will."

TBC