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clusterf#ck

77. Full Length Fic: Fortunate Son
Title: Fortunate Son
Author: wutendeskind
Theme: Complications.
Notes: Brian and Justin’s complications through Jennifer’s POV. My first attempt at first person POV. I played with the timeline a little, as I found it reasonable that Justin may have come to Jennifer about certain things after they had passed. And, most importantly, this story is an obscenely late birthday gift to the ever lovely (cherie_morte), who is always available for cheerleading, handholding, and beta duties.


I was born a fortunate son

Mother gave me all her fear and attention


I worked to prove my worth to everyone.

- Jeremy Toback

I smelled Brian before I met him. I was washing Justin’s clothes from a night at Daphne’s and they didn’t smell right. The shirt didn’t smell at all like my son. It was lacking the familiar blend of Tide, our house, and Justin, the smell I had come to associate with the side of his neck when he would pull me in for an increasingly rare hug. His clothes smelled like stale cigarettes and something dark. Masculine. I added extra detergent, closed the lid on the washing machine, and put it out of my mind.

Justin never smelled quite the same to me again.

When I found the thong in Justin’s room, that white scrap of fabric screaming for attention against his dark jeans, I knew I couldn’t just add extra Tide and hope it disappeared. I also knew it didn’t belong to my son. I was pretty sure Justin, even in his too-small t-shirts, wouldn’t have chosen anything like this for himself. What pants could he possibly be wearing that would necessitate a thong? It was a line of thought I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for. Still, I refused to think about what it meant for my only son to come home with another boy’s underwear in his pocket.

It’s important for me to clarify: part of me always knew Justin was gay, though I had convinced myself it would go away if no one ever brought it up. Justin has always been a little effeminate and I could only blame his mannerisms on childhood for so long. It certainly didn’t help his overall image that he had inherited my frame; he was soft, pretty. How could I not know he was gay?

When he was only three or four, much too young to consciously understand the notion of sexuality, I would pull him onto my lap and he’d immediately snuggle in close, working one hand just under the edge of my skirt, my dress, my shirt. Justin would sit there for hours, just rubbing the fabric of my clothing. Later, he and I would sit in the Pittsburgh Museum of Fine Arts together and spend all day mesmerized by the beauty in front of us. Let’s just say that when it all coalesced into a messy, prolonged rendition of the classic “Mom, I want to go to art school and I probably like boys” scenario, I wasn’t entirely shocked.

What I never expected was Brian.

The first time I saw them together, at the Gay and Lesbian Center, was also Justin’s first art show. It was all there, packaged neatly between those four walls: Justin’s understanding of his sexuality, his art, Brian… they were all intimately knotted together, hopelessly fused right from the beginning. Brian was just as dark and dangerously masculine as I had feared. I watched him walk right up to my seventeen-year-old son and kiss him like he belonged there. I was at an art show; my first thought was of the aesthetics. I had to admit they made a gorgeous composition and there was a certain unexpected balance between them.

I think part of me knew then that as long as Justin had his fire, his passion, his art, he would never be rid of Brian, but it wasn’t something I was willing to accept. I ignored his friends’ shock that Brian had come to the show at all, their surprise at his unprecedented interest in Justin, and painted him as an unfeeling lothario, martini and cigar in hand, out to rob young boys everywhere of their innocence.

*

All these poses, oh how can you blame me?

Life is a game and true love is a trophy.

And you said watch my head about it.

- Rufus Wainwright

I thought I had made my peace with Brian until The Bashing. That’s actually how I thought of it in my head, in big capital letters like the title of some horror film--only this time the movie was my life. Craig had refused to accept that Justin was gay and I was reminded that ignorance is bliss; but Craig could no more deny Justin’s sexuality than I could deny the creeping apathy that had settled over our relationship. And Brian, well, perhaps Brian recognized some of his own father in Craig. Maybe he thought he could save Justin. Maybe Brian had finally given up fighting him. Either way, he was there for my son in ways that I couldn’t be, that Justin wouldn’t let me be, and for that I’ll always be grateful to him.

None of that mattered when Justin came home from the hospital scared and crushed. I couldn’t let him see Brian. I felt like this was finally my chance to make things right; I had failed my son and I was going to take full advantage of the opportunity to help him get his life back. When I told Brian I didn’t want him to see Justin anymore, I could tell I had wounded him. Brian may have been a man, but in dealing with relationships he was no older than my son. Best laid plans and all, it quickly became clear that Justin was miserable and wasn’t getting any better; he wouldn’t let anyone touch him and he was lashing out. I realized, not for the first time, that Justin was no longer mine.

There was nothing conventional about this scene: a harried middle-aged mother asking a thirty year old man to touch her teenaged son, but it was my story, and it was what I had to do if I wanted what was best for Justin. When Brian asked me if I wanted him to fuck Justin, I saw him hesitate and knew he had chosen the word deliberately. I had asked him to leave Justin alone because I was scared of Brian’s dark, gritty world and the word fuck perfectly encompassed everything about it I was afraid of. He was talking tough, but I could see how tired he was and how deeply Justin’s bashing had hurt him. Something like affection for Brian welled up inside of me and I wanted nothing more than to be able to help them both. It might seem like a strange moment for the realization, but I already knew there was nothing typical about any of this. I asked him again to take Justin and refused to question my decision.

No apologies, no regrets, right? Maybe we could all learn a little from each other. And maybe, in time, they would begin to heal.

*

A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.

- George Moore

I won’t apologize for liking Ethan. Brian and Justin had “broken up” and Justin was moving on. I don’t think Justin acted as well as he could have; I was sure I raised him to always act with integrity, but they had been putting each other through the ringer for a while and something was bound to break. When Justin left, Brian certainly wasn’t going to stop him, and maybe that was the whole problem.

I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked that Brian continued to pay for Justin’s education after their break-up, but I was. It was an unimaginable relief: I couldn’t pay for it myself, Craig certainly wasn’t going to help, and Brian, true to form, came through for him. I was reminded again that for all his fatalism and his flaws, Brian really did love Justin.

When it came down to it, I couldn’t help but think that Ethan was infinitely more appropriate for my son. They were the same age, they had art in common, and Ethan didn’t seem to have a commitment problem or a goal to have cirrhosis by age 40. He was charming.

I should have known better.

I was almost relieved to have Brian back in Justin’s life. Their relationship felt different to me this time. Justin had left because he couldn’t get what he needed and when he went back to Brian, I was finally sure that Justin was with him because he wanted to be. Justin wasn’t staying with Brian because he was the first; they weren’t together out of a misguided sense of duty. I realized Justin knew Brian wasn’t perfect, his adulation gone with his midriff bearing tees. Justin could, and would, leave if things turned sour and that, I decided, was all the comfort I needed.

Debbie was up in arms about Brian’s work on Jim Stockwell’s campaign. I found it troubling but not wholly surprising. Brian wasn’t one to turn down wealthy and powerful clients because of ideology and I couldn’t help but think of the work he had done on the Pool Boy Coolers campaign, handing Robert Poole his bigotry in a 16-ounce bottle. If forced to choose between his freedom and getting ahead, I knew Brian would find a way to do the same to Stockwell. So when Justin came to me and told me he was planning a protest the night of Stockwell’s speech at the Gay and Lesbian Center, it was clear that his plan had Brian’s influence all over it. After all, Brian was the only one involved in Stockwell’s campaign who could’ve convinced him that speaking at the GLC would translate into a boost in his poll numbers.

I felt a deep ache in my chest when Justin asked for my help. I could hear him trying to sound detached—whether for my sake or his, I wasn’t sure—but it was clear how profoundly his bashing had affected us both. We may have moved on, but we’d never be over it. I was so proud of Justin for overcoming it, for using the experience to make him stronger, that I couldn’t speak for a moment. He took my silence for hesitation and quietly told me he was sure Daphne would hold his photo up that night. It was usually so easy for me to forget how young he really was, but I heard my little boy again in the uncertainty in Justin’s voice. I immediately offered my help, jumping at the chance to, in some small way, make something good come of all the hate. I had been powerless to stop the attack and, despite my activism, I felt I had done little to prevent such atrocities from happening in the future. It was cathartic for me to be able to stand up in front of a room full of people and not only hold someone accountable, but to try to change the system for the better; to know that years had passed since Justin’s bashing and that we had all come out alright on the other side.

When Stockwell’s handlers had to pull him from the stage, it was a victory for all of us.

*

I got a really good heart, I just can’t catch a break,

If I could, I’d treat you like you wanted me to, I promise.

But I’m fractured from the fall and I want to go home,

It takes two when it used to take one.

- David Ryan Adams

Despite my confidence in Brian’s ability to get exactly what he wanted, I stared dumbfounded at Justin when he told me Brian was the sole member of the Concerned Citizens for the Truth. I was keenly aware that there was a sharp difference between Brian exercising his influence to ensure that Stockwell would speak at the GLC and Brian nearly bankrupting himself in a last ditch attempt to bury Stockwell’s campaign. He had truly risked everything for what he believed in and I would have been a fool if I hadn’t recognized that a large part of what Brian believed in was Justin. It had been a long time since Justin had come to me asking for money. I wrote him a check without hesitation.

Selling the loft wasn’t something I wanted to do, but finding an office for Kinnetik was a challenge I was ready for. The first places I suggested were typical offices with plenty of space and great locations in the heart of Pittsburgh’s central business district. I should have known Brian would reject them immediately. It’s not often you get excited about things in real estate, but being entrusted to find a place for Kinnetik secretly thrilled me. The more places he turned down, the more intrigued I became. Brian wasn’t the typical advertising executive; it followed that Kinnetik wouldn’t be a run of the mill agency. I was well aware of the fact that Brian had something to prove to Vance and his clients; in turn, I felt I had something to prove to Brian. I was indebted to him for all he had done for Justin and though I could never actually repay him, finding the perfect office was the least I could do.

I found the listing for the bathhouse by accident. In my growing desperation, I decided to check Craig’s List and clicked an ad that read “Retail/Office Space for Sale or Lease (Strip District).” The location seemed right to me, as I was trying to stay away from offices downtown, and after looking up the address I couldn’t believe what I had found. Listing the Everhard Spa as “office space” seemed a bit of a stretch to me, but I was glad they had. When I called Brian to arrange a tour of the place, I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice. I knew he would recognize the area from the address, but hoped the actual bathhouse part would come as a surprise. I wore a skirt and black leather boots to our meeting; it was the closest my wardrobe got to edgy, but I wanted to try to look the part. I thought he might like it and I was right. I couldn’t keep the self-satisfied smile off my face all day.

Before Darren’s attack I thought, perhaps foolishly, that Justin had come to terms with his bashing. I was wrong. There was a time when I thought no one Justin became involved with would ever be worse than “that Brian,” but I was pretty sure Cody Bell and the Pink Posse now topped Mother Taylor’s list of least favorite people. Unlike Brian, however, they deserved every bit of my contempt. Fighting hate with hate just breeds more anger and disdain. Justin shaved his head, and though I mourned briefly for his beautiful hair, I quickly realized how trivial that was in the face of Justin’s struggle. It cut me deeply to know Justin felt like he hadn’t done enough. Every time he and I tried to talk about the Pink Posse, I struggled to speak rationally. When I lashed out, he responded in kind. I could only hope that Brian would talk some sense into him and, if he couldn’t, that Justin would finally lay his demons to rest before he got hurt… again.

The Rage movie came as a bit of a shock to me as well. I was, of course, glad someone had noticed Justin’s work on Rage, I just didn’t expect it to be such a well known someone. I wasn’t much of a Brett Keller fan myself—Ratman II never really did it for me personally—but I knew he was a big name. A Brett Keller movie meant a big budget, well-known actors, and the publicity I thought Rage deserved. Knowing that, I couldn’t help but think it also meant studio executives looking for a nice, clean action movie they could stamp a PG-13 rating on and Rage’s Gayopolis was anything but. Had they met Brian Kinney? I thought Justin might be setting himself up for disappointment. Brett wanted to keep all of Rage’s gritty integrity now, but what would he do if the studio threatened to cut his funding?

A small part of me was worried about Justin. He hadn’t been away from Pittsburgh for so long since the summer Craig convinced me to send him to camp in the Poconos to “toughen him up a little.” Justin hadn’t been living at home since he was 17, but this felt different to me somehow. More permanent. I knew it would be selfish of me to try to stop him and I didn’t want to, not really anyway. Whether Rage found his way into theatres or not, Justin would learn something from the experience and that’s what really mattered. I just had to keep telling myself that.

*

Hold these hearts courageously as we walk into this dark place,

Stand steadfast beside me and see that love is the province of the brave.

- Kyp Malone

News of Brian’s cancer rattled me like nothing had since Justin’s bashing. It went beyond simple concern for someone I had come to think of as more than just my son’s boyfriend. I smiled ruefully as I thought of how right Brian was about the limitations of language. It wasn’t a line he had ever said to me directly, but I had been around long enough to witness just how often people quoted him (with varying levels of anger, I might add). It wasn’t something I liked to announce, but Brian and I were closer in age than he and Justin and when I heard he had cancer and had undergone radiation, I began to consider my own mortality. I made sure all of my doctors’ appointments were up to date and asked my GP for a mammogram referral; I didn’t want to take any chances.

I also vowed to let myself have a little more fun. Justin was grown, Molly was in high school, and I found myself with a new appreciation for, dare I say it, life. I promised I’d get together with a few girlfriends of mine next time they invited me out, which is how I found myself at happy hour laughing off the advances of a very attractive school teacher who was, without a doubt, way too young for me. But Tucker was persistent and when I realized he was serious, I figured a date couldn’t hurt. Frankly, I was flattered. I never expected go on more than one date with him, let alone introduce him to my kids, but I realized that I liked Tucker (a lot) and I wanted them to know each other.

When Brian pulled me aside at Justin’s opening and congratulated me for “scoring,” telling me he never knew I was up for the challenge, I could tell he meant it as a complement and sensed the warmth behind his words. When Justin started up with the age jokes, I was sure he had to be kidding, though he soon made it clear just how serious he was. Of course it was something I had struggled with, but I didn’t know where Justin, of all people, got off thinking he had the right to say anything. If he had genuinely disliked Tucker, I would have wanted to know, but if he was going to be rude, I thought he should keep his opinions to himself.

At the time, I was glad when I heard Brian had offered Babylon as the place to host the Proposition 14 protest fundraiser, because I couldn’t think of a more appropriate “fuck you” to Prop 14’s supporters. After the bombing, I would have given anything for Brian to be less generous. Tucker and I were ok, but I was worried because we couldn’t find Justin. I tried to look for him on my way out of the rubble, but we couldn’t see anything and it was getting hard to breathe. A panic-stricken Brian saw us by the ambulances and raced in to find Justin. I didn’t know whether or not they had seen each other after Brian ran inside, but watched as they found each other outside the club. But I watched them embrace and could tell they both visibly relaxed in each other’s arms, some of the initial panic worn off; I knew that’s where they belonged.

The destruction of Babylon was at once an end and a beginning. Melanie and Lindsay were leaving Pittsburgh, but were starting a new life in Canada. Brian had proposed to Justin and it looked like they were beginning a new life together. I was ecstatic about their wedding and was blindsided when they announced at the rehearsal dinner that they weren’t getting married after all. It came as a surprise to me that Justin had chosen to move to New York instead of getting married, but I understood that it was something he needed to do for himself. As his mother I worried about where he would live and whether he’d have enough money and what he was thinking moving to one of the most expensive cities in the country without a job lined up. As someone who had married young and never went after anything for herself until it all blew up in her face, I was so very proud of him. I knew I had raised him right. Justin was resilient and determined and would somehow, in the face of impossible odds, make it work. I vowed to check in on Brian every now and then, to make sure he was keeping his proverbial fatalism to a minimum. Maybe they weren’t literally getting a new life together, but it was undoubtedly a new phase of their relationship.

I had witnessed first hand the doubts they both had about their relationship and could say with certainty that it wasn’t a matter of “worth.” People aren’t inherently good enough or not good enough for one another. Justin may have had a better support network surrounding him during all of the complications life threw him, but circumstances Brian had no control over growing up didn’t make him worth any less than my son. By the same token, Brian may have been worth more than Justin financially, but that didn’t mean Justin didn’t have anything to bring to the table in their relationship. I knew from personal experience that relationships, particularly long distance ones, take time and effort. They may not have overcome all of their issues (Justin would protest when Brian bought him a plane ticket home; Brian still had doubts about whether Justin should commit himself to someone when he was so young), but they had shown time and again that they were willing to work for it. I hoped that for once they’d take a mother’s advice and believe me when I told them nothing else really mattered.