Second Year

June

It was finally warm outside and both Brian and Justin were determined to make sure that problems like New York didn't happen again.

The agency was doing well quickly and Brian had been to several meetings with Gardner Vance to discuss the possibility of a merger or buyout, neither of which Brian was too interested in just yet but there was no reason to burn bridges.

He and Justin were treating each other gently, as though they were afraid to cause one another any more pain or hurt and though they both felt like they were walking on eggshells, at least home life was calm. True, they avoided anything that might lead to any kind of conflict or unpleasantness, but they did keep their voices from rising and tried to be considerate of one another.

The things that they weren't saying left them both frustrated and angry, but this was new territory to both of them and neither was sure how to make it better so they continued on the eggshells. The fact that they were both busy and often not home at the same time both helped and hindered, but for now neither was willing to rock the boat, perhaps afraid that they might drown in everything that wasn't being said.

Brian was spending a lot of time trying to build their client base more than it was and Justin was busy getting pieces finished for the show Fred had set up for him in San Francisco in the fall. Eric had kept his word and had made no effort to contact Justin again, though occasionally he would see him walking around on Liberty Avenue. They would nod at one another or ignore each other as seemed right at the time.

Justin wished he would move to London or Philadelphia or Manila but maintained his WASP manners and kept his thoughts to himself.

Brian never said anything about what had happened in New York and Justin never brought up the fact that Brian had screwed Marvin the Tire King to get the account in the beginning of the year.

He tried to tell himself hat they were even, but he knew better. Marvin had been business, Eric had been a payback. Marvin didn't matter to him and Brian as a couple any more than taking a client to dinner would matter to them. Eric was different. Eric was personal.

And so things stood for the first couple of weeks of June. They danced around one another, never quite saying what needed to be said and never quite resolving anything, both waiting for the other to make the first real move.

Neither one was ready to do that or perhaps they simply didn't know how.

Their friends, the family' would look at the two of them and shake their heads and talk among themselves and even take one or the other aside to make them do something, but nothing seemed to work.

They did try, though. They thought about going away together, maybe up to Justin's grandparent's place in Canada where they'd been last summer. They talked about maybe going to Europe together or even Tahiti but in the end both of them were simple too busy to think about leaving just then, Brian's agency was still new and Justin still had commissions to fill from the show in New York. They paid well, certainly they paid well for a young artist who was still trying to get established, and he insisted that he needed to contribute his fair share.

Brian tried to tell him that they were doing OK financially and they were, all things considered, but Justin had heard enough snide comments about being the little woman and Brian's twat to not be angry about the situation. He insisted that he put the money that came in from his sales into a common account for both of their use. Brian tried to insist that he set up his own finances and establish his own line of credit and all of that, but raised in the WASP school of thought, Justin insisted that everything be shared equally.

Yes, he knew that Brian still has holdings from before they'd married and he had that share of his great grandmother's trust fund, which was still in another bank, but those things were different. That stuff had come about before they were together. It wasn't the same. The money they made after they had gotten married, that he wanted to be theirs'.

It was another little chink in the dam. Something else that they didn't talk about and so was allowed to fester.

Then the call came in.

They were eating dinner, exchanging small talk. Brian was going to let the machine get it since he disliked being interrupted during a meal, but Justin gave him a look and picked up.

"Justin? Sweetie?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Sweetie, I hate to just call, I know I should have come over to get you, but I don't want to leave Molly."

"Mom? …What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"Justin, it's your father. He was in an accident. His car hit a phone pole and he's been brought to Allegheny General."

"Oh, shit. Should I come?"

"Yes, honey, I think you that would be a good idea."

"I'll leave now." Brian was looking at him. "My Dad was hurt, I'm going to the hospital."

"I'll drive you." A nod and they left the meal sitting on the table, pausing only to blow out the candles and turn of a couple of lights.

The hospital wasn't far. Maybe fifteen minutes and Brian let him off at the emergency entrance before parking the car. Even after all the shit Craig had put him through, all the rejection and insults—even after all of that, Justin would never completely tune him out and Brian knew that he'd be at the hospital every damn day his father was there. He'd bring books and his sketch pad and he'd stock up on stories and jokes and eventually he'd get around—if Craig would let him—he would get around to telling him about how they were doing together. He would tell his father about his marriage and his friends and his hopes and his schooling and his first big show in New York. He would brag, while trying to pretend that he was nonchalant about the whole thing, about the prices his paintings were generating and that he had another show coming up in a few months and maybe-maybe—Craig might make it out to the West Coast for a day or two and they could spend some time together there, just the two of them.

Brian walked into the waiting room for the emergency room. Justin was there, hugging his mother and Molly was standing next to them, the perfect picture of a concerned family group. He went over to them; his arm went around Molly and asked if there was any news.

Jenn answered, "They said he swerved to avoid hitting a dog that ran into the road and hit the pole. The car was totaled. I don't know—they said that he broke some ribs and I don't know …"

A doctor, youngish and harried looking came over to them. "Mrs. Taylor? I'm Dr. Rothenberg, I was just in with your husband." There was no reason to stand on ceremony and tell the man they were divorced. "He was pretty lucky, all things considered because the police told me that the airbag didn't inflate for some reason and he hit the steering wheel pretty hard. The belt probably saved his life. He's broken four ribs and fractured his sternum, but he should heal. He's going to be sore and we'd like to keep him for a couple of days for observation, but he should be alright." He stood watching the relief he was getting used to seeing in this job. It beat the Hell out of the cries and shock when things turned out differently. "You can see him one at a time if you'd like, just keep it short. He'll be moved upstairs in a while."

Brian knew Justin would want to see his father. Of course he would. He was also fairly sure that Craig would rather skip a get-well visit from his son in law. Things seemed under control here. Jenn was in with her ex, he touched Justin's arm. "I have something to do. Will you be alright here for a couple of hours?" He nodded, his attention on the curtained cubicle twenty feet down the hall. "I have my cel if you need me." Another nod, a kiss to Molly's cheek and he was in his car pulling out of the lot.

Twenty minutes later he was knocking on the door. The overhead light went on, the door still squeaked just as it had fifteen years ago.

"May I come in?"

"…If you want. What on earth brings you here?" She was sober for once and seemed pleasantly surprised to see him.

"I wanted to ask you about some things, if that's alright."

She stood aside to let him pass. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm fine." She looked disappointed.

They went into the living room. It was formal, proper. He was a guest here and would leave soon. He was a stranger; an interloper and they both knew it.

"I pray for you, Brian. Everyday. You have a special place in my prayers."

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Mom." She was pouring herself a glass of wine. He shook his head at a second offer.

"What did you want to know, darling?"

"Just some family history." She gave him a level look. She knew him well enough to know when he was about to drop one of his bombshells.

"Whatever do you want to dredge that up for?"

"I've noticed that some things seem to run in the family and I thought that I might gain some—insight, that's all."

"Did you? What sort of things are you talking about? I thought that you'd distanced yourself as far from us as you could, starting about twenty years ago, as I recall.

This wasn't what he'd wanted to do. He really did want to hear what she had to say. He really had been thinking about the Kinney family and the various members.

He smiled. "I was wondering—I've been wondering—why didn't you ever divorce Dad? I know all about burning in Hell and being excommunicated and all of that shit, but when you knew what he was like and that it was all over between you, why did you stay?"

"You just said yourself, Brian. You know what the Church's teachings are on marriage. You know that divorce isn't sanctioned and you certainly should know that I couldn't do anything that would prevent me from the comfort and the acceptance I've found there." She drained her glass. "You've always known that."

He was serious. This wasn't about scoring points. "But there was help available for you and for me and Claire. The church didn't condone abuse"—he realized what he had just said—"Well, they would have done something, anyway"

" Wither thou goest, I will go.' You know that the wife must obey the husband. You know the teachings on this as well as I do. What brings this up? Are you thinking of getting married?"

She pointedly ignored his left hand. "I am married, Mom, you know that."

"Not in the eyes of the Lord or in the laws of this state." She gave him one of her looks—one of his looks. "Are you and that young man having problems? Is that what this is about?" She actually softened slightly and he remembered when he could talk with her, how important that had been to him once.

"What did you do when you found out Jack was having affairs?"

"It's painful, darling, I know." She poured her third glass. "I did nothing because I knew there was nothing to be done. I couldn't leave him and I doubted that he would leave me. We reached an agreement about it."

"You stopped sleeping with him."

"Well, I couldn't after he'd been with—I simply couldn't, Brian."

"Did you ever trust him again?"

"No, I simply couldn't after I found out what he'd done."

He knew. He'd felt the same way.

"Your young man, he's found someone he'd rather be with?"

"…I don't think so. I'm just not sure he wants to be with me.

"Darling, I know that, despite what I may think, you consider this marriage' of yours to be real. Are you thinking about a divorce'?"

"I don't want one." He smiled at himself. "I never thought I'd ever get married to anyone and when I did I went into it knowing that…"

"Knowing what, Brian?"

"That you can't trust anyone."

She drained her glass one last time. "You're right, darling. You can't."

He gave her a long look, evaluating what she had just said, weighing her words. "I have to go. I told Justin I'd pick him up about now."

As he left, as she watched the tail lights disappear down the street, she wondered if Brian would ever find his way in life. She had worried about him from before he was born and she still did, though he'd never believe that. He had always fought against everything—against her and Jack, against school and his teachers, against the church. She prayed that one day he would find the path.

At the hospital Jenn had left with Molly and Justin was sitting in his father's room. Craig was asleep, perhaps he was sedated.

"Ready?"

"Yes. Let's go."

"Is her going to be alright?"

"They say he will be. He was talking a little while ago. He's glad that we were all here. I think it made a difference."

"Good." They walked to the elevator. "Want to stop? I'm getting hungry."

"Sure. Where did you go?"

"I had to talk to someone about some research I've been doing."

"Get it done?"

"No, not yet. I was thinking. Next month? I think we should make a point of getting away."

Justin turned to him, his smile in place, thw quiet one. "Yes, I'd like that."