Los Angeles
Brandon was in the management center of the Chronical, the one he had always dreamed of as a young boy and which had declined all of his proposals for unconditional slavery at a low price. He was now sitting in the director's chair, in the director's office, with the director's plans and a fantastic view of Los Angeles. Amazing how it changes people's lives. As certain coincidences make you turn one way or another. What would have happened if the Chronical of Los Angeles had accepted his candidacy five years earlier? Where would he be now? Do he regret that he left? No. He wasn't. One with his dreams can't regret it. He must have a resistance that lives up to his expectations. He looked outside the glass door at the large open space where journalists, editors, reviewers, carefully paginated and chose the words. How far away the times of the Beat were. When only he and Steve ran a small newspaper and he felt like he was stuck in a golden cage. Give up his "family" and go chase his dreams. Here's the hardest choice he ever had to make. A risk between head and neck. Five years around telling the war, the chronicle of nations, learning Spanish and Italian.
His secretary Betty was a pretty nice and very practical woman in her fifties. SHe came in bringing him the coffee and under her arm the binder for the documents to be signed. Brandon squared a couple of signatures reading quickly.
"Mr. Johnson will come at 1 p.m., Director Walsh confirmed the appointment."
Director Walsh. Wow.
"Do you need anything else?"
"No, thank you Betty"
"For lunch?"
"I'll take care, don't worry," he told her by returning the signed papers to her.
He still had a couple of costume items to review.
His cell phone rang.
KEL.
That name had not appeared on the display for centuries.
"Donna is giving birth, David is in hyperventilation, Steve is agitated, I breathe in time, do you want to come too?"
Brandon laughed loudly "I'm on my way".
He clicked on the call term button. How he missed this part. Be something integral. Part of a universe narrow by strong bonds. He took the jacket. He had his cell phone and would check the emails from the outside.
"Rely on the appointment with Johnson at 13"
"Yes," he said, slipping away, "I'll be right back, I have my cell phone, whatever Betty calls me."
He took the elevator.
"Director!"
A young boy was chasing him. He stopped.
"Director I'm Brian Ward"
Brandon shook his hand walking.
"I just graduated from CU"
"Ah good," Brandon replied, "what can I do for you?"
"I wanted to tell you that I am willing to work for free in case you want to consider my application"
Brandon took the keys out of his pocket and opened the car
"Leave the cv in place," he replied quickly, leaving him standing on the sidewalk.
Brandon got in the car. And he sighed like when he always sighed to have regretted something. He lowered the window.
"Give to me," he said.
Brian Ward smiled and slipped his CV into Brandon's hands.
When he arrived in the hospital they were all there.
"How are we going?" He asked kissing Kelly on the cheek to greet her.
"We're in full labor," Kelly took a quick look at David, "he doesn't hold on, Felice is in, Steve went to get coffee."
Ethan Silver was born twenty minutes later. For a weight of 4 kilos and 200 grams. To the joy of Felice who finally had a nephew.
For that of Silver who had fainted twice.
Everyone looked at the little arrival from the window. He was still out of resemblance but Felice was convinced that she saw us Doc Martin.
"Life is like that," Kelly told, approaching Brandon, "explodes in front of you."
"Yeah ," he said, "is a very nice thing. Beautiful," he looked at her, "I'm sorry I wasn't here when your son was born but I.."
He didn't finish the sentence. There was no need for it.
"I know," she said, "I know."
Kelly scrutinized his profile and thought of that child lost years earlier, he was now eight years old. She wonder if Brandon ever thought about him/her because she had never stopped thinking about that life, even and especially after Sammy's birth. She had always tried to see in her son features common to her that could also have been on the face of that lost child.
She came up with Brandon's phrase embraced to him when she thought he was making the hardest decision "but one will always be missing."
One will always be missing, Brandon. You were right. He thought about it but didn't say it.
Brandon's phone rang and that turned Kelly's attention away.
BRENDA
"I was going to call you"
"You always say that and you never do it"
Brandon laughed and mimed with his mouth Brenda's name to Kelly to make her figure out who she was "donna's baby was born and we are here in the hospital with the others.. of course I'll tell him to call her later.. yes Kelly and here.." she nodded to say hello "goods to you.." then Brandon got more serious Kelly pretended to be busy with a couple of messages and watched it, just feel a "take care of yourself" and that's it.
Brandon came back to her "are you okay?" SHe asked
"Yeah All right"
"I'm going home," she told him, "repleating Sammy with Erin... eh... Then maybe I'll come back here.. "
Brandon nodded his head and hurriedly looked at the clock "I have to go too. I have a work commitment."
"Are you sure you are well?"
"Yes"
"Listen, do you want to come to dinner tonight? I prepare something on the fly. I wish you knew Sammy if you like"
Brandon smiled in a tight way "sure" he replied "I'd like it."
"Then at 8 pm? Will I send you a message with the address?"
They greeted each other as they had said goodbye at the beginning.
Brandon watched her and he was worried as she walked away.
Dylan was with Brenda.
London.
Brenda hung up the phone and looked at Dylan sitting at the kitchen table. A little in the twilight. SHe didn't think he was seeing this scene again.
"Did you call Kel?"
"I left her a message in the voicemail. SHe's not at home."
"SHe's in the hospital. Donna gave birth and anyway Kelly has a cell phone. Do you want the number?"
"Oh."
Brenda heard the whistle of the tea and pulled down two cups. SHe had realized that Dylan was there because he wanted to see her again but she also realized that he had run away from what he had in Los Angeles. And especially from Sammy. And that wasn't fair.
SHe would have liked to ask him how much would be left but he also feared the answer.
"What about your son?"
"I suck like a father, I know"
"Ah you know"
He nailed his eyes to her. "I didn't come to be judged"
"I never judged you and you know this" Brenda replied in response "but sometimes I don't understand you"
"Yes, you can"
Brenda put the cup in front of him "I don't want to call you psychoanalyst Dylan. There are things you have to solve yourself. You hurt too many people"
"I know," he said, "I just want to stay here. A little. To write"
"To write..."
Dylan took a sip of you. His life was hopelessly twisted and he knew well how much pain he had had and how much he had caused in return. To Kel, to Brenda, to Sammy.
But he couldn't do without it. He found no peace.
When he became a father his demons had subsided for a while. He thought he could control that despair that had ted his existence so much. His father was who knows where. Not even a phone call. Not even a hello Dylan. His mother was busy with meditation school in Hawaii.
That child, Sammy, when he squeezed him he would bring something with him, something he had never seen, but after a while his impatience had begun to rise like foam from the bottom. He wanted to go. He wanted to go out.
He Looked At Brenda. Her black hair. Long. Her bright blue eyes.
How he left last time and how he came back today. From her.
And she had reopened the door for him. Again.
He rethought Kel, who had tried to make things work. That they had bought a house as she wanted. Kel, whom she had been inactive with his getaways and his returns.
Kel, who understood his heart in half because she had it that way too. And they tried to make those halves work as if it were one.
Kel, who loved him anyway. How Brenda loved him. How Sammy loved him. Of a love he didn't feel he deserved.