Justin,

If you’re reading this, we both know the reason is because I’ve died.

I’ve done a lot of thinking over the years. Despite my initial reticence to even listen to your reasons for choosing your lifestyle, I want you to know that I’ve learned to accept it.

Molly tells me all the time what a great time she has with you in New York. She even speaks nicely of Brian. I must say I’m surprised you’re still with him. I should have known from the moment you left our house to live with him that you loved him.

I remember a time when I’d have done the same and more for your mother. I used to love Jen immensely. But something happened over the time and our happy marriage started falling apart. It was never your fault – that’s what I want you to know. Sometimes, people fall out of love.

I could tell we were becoming distant, and instead of talking about our problems, I went out to the country club. I met Jessica, and ruined my marriage. At the time, I blamed you for all our problems, but it was never your fault, Justin.

In the beginning, I used to yell even at Molly when she mentioned your name. She had no idea what was going on or why we weren’t all living under the same roof anymore. She cried about you and me going back home to be a happy family like before, so many times I’ve lost count.

Your mother hasn’t talked to me for years after our divorce, unless we were discussing Molly. She asked me out for coffee during one of Molly’s trips to New York. Jen came with her new boyfriend, but when they noticed I haven’t brought Jessica, he made himself scarce, coming up with some silly excuse.

He’s a nice guy. I hear you give him a hard time. He makes your mother happy, and that should be all that matters.

Jen and I caught up, and we discussed you for the first time without one of us ending up screaming or storming out of the room. I had never been prouder of you when I’d learned you’ve become a success. I wonder if your dream to open your own gallery actually came true. Jen told me that you’re a long way from accomplishing that.

Jen also told me that you got married. She showed me pictures. You were very handsome, son. Brian is one lucky man.

I regret not meeting him properly. I’d have loved to shake his hand for making you happy and being so wonderful to you.

I doubt either of you would have accepted my invitation to meet for lunch when you were in town. You have all the reasons in the world to hate me, Justin. Both of you. Thinking back on how juvenile I acted, how I almost badly injured your boyfriend… I apologize. I realize those words can’t erase the pain and fear and anger I made you feel over the years, but I hope you understand.

My upbringing and my social circle taught me homosexuality was a sin and that all faggots were abnormalities.

The truth is that your sister made me see where I was wrong. I had to hear a child’s innocent and pure words about the times she spent with you and Brian to realize what an asshole I was. The more she told me about you, the more I hated myself for the way I’ve treated you.

Jessica is a witness of how many times I’ve written you lengthily emails only to delete them before hitting the send button, or the times I sat in my armchair with my phone in hand, pondering whether to call you or not. The few times the urge to talk to you overwhelmed me were on your birthdays, after I heard you got married, and when I learned I was sick.

I wonder if Molly or Jen told you I am sick. Did you even care when you heard the news?

I deserve all your hatred with the way I’ve treated you.

Hoping, you’re still reading this letter and you haven’t balled it up and threw it away when you read my name on the folded paper, I want to tell you some of the memories that stuck to me.

You might not recall this since you were two years old at the time, but this is one memory of you I’m very fond of. We had over some friends. You were supposed to be asleep, so we were catching up and socializing in the living room. There were booze and fine cigars at discretion. We were having fun, and then Mrs. Chanders is gesturing wildly, pointing to a small figure by the wet bar.

Your mother had a meltdown over you trying to drink from the vodka bottle. I rescued you in time before we had to send you to Baby Anonymous Alcoholics, and we all had a good laugh over it. You were put out for hours, and you kept trying to get to the vodka.

I wonder if vodka is one of your favorite drinks now. . .

Another interesting memory is the day we brought Molly home. You were with Daphne in your room, and we called you to meet your little sister and welcome her home, you scowled and locked yourself in your room. You sneaked out to visit her during that night. I caught you staring at her in the dark. You told me that you don’t like her.

We thought it was a phase, but you kept disliking her, until Jen made the foolish mistake to allow you to keep an eye on Molly.

Molly was about eight months old.

It was dear Daphne who rushed to Jen to let her know you had left the house with your sister in the stroller. You planned on taking her to the market and sell her. I remember being sent to the doghouse after laughing at your ingenious idea when Jen was downright livid.

Despite the fact that sports weren’t your thing, I took you golfing a few times, and we had a good time. At least, that’s how it felt.

When I first found out you were gay, I tried to find someone to blame. Logically, I blamed Jen for coddling you and encouraging your love for painting.

I don’t know if Jen told you, but my first reaction to your accident on prom was inexcusable. I said, “Good. It’s what faggots deserve.” I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. Your mother slapped me and forbid me to go anywhere near you or her.

After several days, the guilt and worry for your well-being got the best of me. I visited you late at night. Your doctor updated me with your healing. I made him swear not to tell your mother I’ve been there. The doctor told me I could go in to see you if I wanted, no matter if you were in a coma.

Imagine my shock when I found you already had a visitor at that late hour. He was leaning against your door, looking at you through the small window.

When he heard me, he turned to look at me, and in that moment I knew that he loved you. It was written all over his face how much he cared for you and how hurt he’d been in the aftermath of your bashing. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and his haunted eyes showed everything he felt for you.

I was sure Brian wouldn’t allow me to see you, that he’d tell me to leave, but he stepped aside and disappeared around a corner.

I stayed by your side for thirty minutes. I wasn’t ready to accept my son was gay. I was too proud to leave behind my conception of gay people.

As you know, I haven’t changed my opinion until after you left the city. You’ve tried several more times to reach out to me. You used your art to show me that your stack of drawings from home wasn’t a phase.

Now thinking back, it was foolish of me to say that you were no longer gay if things with Brian had fallen apart. By the way, did I mention I am happy you made up? The last pictures Molly showed of you two were beautiful. You’re living the life you deserved, by your man’s side.

Our last encounter couldn’t have been more unfortunate. To this day, I have no idea what possessed me to call the cops at my company and have you arrested. What kind of shitty father gets his own son arrested for voicing his right to be able to love freely? Apparently me.

I know I’ve hurt you a great deal, son, but there’s a little hope inside me that you’ll forgive me. Or, at least try to understand where my hatred came from.

I hope you won’t resent your mother or sister for keeping my illness from you. This was my last wish.

I know that if they’d told you, you’d be on the first plane back, sitting by my bedside and acting like you cared for the sake of old times. Even if you still care for me one tiny bit, that was not the way I wanted us to be together one last time.

You’ll have time to express yourself freely at the funeral. I don’t expect any nice words from your eulogy, Justin.

If you’ve read through my letter and reached this part, then let me tell you one last thing: I love you, kiddo.

Your dad

Dad,

I am standing here only because Brian told me I might regret not coming back to say goodbye one last time.

Mom’s phone call to let me know of your passing came shortly after Brian and I got the best news. Our surrogate has given birth to our daughter Cecilia. She’s mine, because Brian already has Gus.

Imagine the way I felt when Mom gave me the bad news shortly after receiving the best news ever. Like I said, I never wanted to come here, but Brian is very persuasive.

When your lawyer handed me the letter, my first instinct was to dump it in the trash. I actually did it, but Brian retrieved it. He gave it to me when we were in bed later last night.

I was curious, I must admit. So I started reading it.

With each word, I wanted to punch you for doing this to me. I could tell that you still loved me, even though your hatred for gay people blinded you, but sadly, that’s how I’ll always remember you. Your letter might have redeemed you somewhat in my eyes, but my strongest memories of you are from our last encounters. The moment you slapped me for having the courage to tell you I was gay, the cruel act of crashing into Brian’s car and injuring him, the way you treated me until I left home, and yes, the way you had me arrested outside your company.

I wish you had the guts to call me as you claim you’ve tried. I wish we’d have talked about this while you were still alive. I doubt I’d have ever forgiven you, but we’d never know.

At least, you’ve been a good dad to Molly. It’s refreshing to see how Molly was the one to open your eyes about me not being all that different. She’s never judged me. Even though, I resented her in the beginning, over time I came to love her and understand that Mom loved both of us just as much.

I was surprised to read that you’ve visited me in the hospital.

Funny how these things work. I never knew Brian came to the hospital back then. It took your letter for him to admit that you weren’t lying. God forbid he showed me his feelings back then; and look at us now – married and having a child together.

I want to believe your words about being happy for us, but somehow, I can’t. You might have changed, but I’d never know.

I feel like an idiot standing here by your coffin, talking about a man I barely knew. I used to look up to you when I was a kid, but that image changed pretty fast. You were barely home, and when you were, you didn’t have time to spend with me. Then one day, you hated me for who I am.

Instead of repeating myself in various ways, I’m going to wrap up this speech.

Oh, and vodka is my drink of choice.

.

.

.

Brian kept an arm wrapped around Justin's shoulders, as Justin stood by the table holding the drinks. He was on his fifth glass in a row.

“I need some air,” Justin mumbled, downing his drink. “I feel like suffocating in this house.”

Jessica had graciously offered to host the farewell party at their house.

Justin made his way to the front door, fishing out his smokes the second he was outside.

“I thought we were quitting,” Brian said from behind him.

“When we get back, I promise to stop. I need this now.” Justin leaned his back against the wall near the front door. “That letter fucked with my mind.”

“It’s more than any of my parents would have ever told me,” Brian acknowledged, plucking the cigarette form Justin's fingers and taking a drag.

“You don’t know that.”

“Justin, you can’t compare the way Craig acted toward you with the way my parents acted toward me. They hated me, one more than the other. For fuck’s sake, Jack didn’t want me! He even told my mother to get rid of me.”

Justin blinked away the tears, still not quite believing some people could be so cruel. He sniffed, wrapping his arms around Brian. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here,” Brian promised, kissing the top of Justin's head.

Justin retrieved his cigarette, barely touching it to his lips when the front door opened. Molly stepped outside, but stopped short at noticing her brother and his husband. She looked about to crumble. Justin kept his cigarette between his lips, opening his arms for her, and she snuggled close, sobbing into his shoulder.

Over her head, Justin met Brian's eyes. He’d never feel the same anguish and sorrow as Molly, because a part of his heart still hated Craig. That letter might have erased some of the pain, but the only thing it brought was peace. It didn’t wipe out all the hurtful words and actions.

“Shh, Mollusk. I’m right here.”

Brian stroked her hair, keeping his other hand on Justin's shoulder.

“Did you really hate Daddy?” Her voice was small, and if it weren’t so quiet outside, Justin would have missed her words.

“The feeling was mutual, Molly. I tried to give him time to adjust, but he never even tried to understand, let alone talk about my homosexuality.”

“He’s changed his opinion. I made him see you were still Justin and it didn’t matter who you liked. You were the same funny, smart, talented brother I’ve always had.”

Justin smiled widely, kissing her brow. “Thank you, Molly.”

“I guess, it was too little, too late,” she mumbled.

“Something like that,” Justin agreed.

“Are you staying for the weekend?” Molly asked, pulling away. She wiped her eyes with a paper tissue, smudging her mascara.

Brian rubbed Justin's back. “You can stay, catch up with your family. I’ll go to Cecilia.”

Justin pouted, but he knew that Brian was right. He should be close to his family in times like these, even though his new family was waiting for him back in New York. He’d have Brian and Cecilia for the rest of his life, but he would have those moments with Molly and his mom again. Their emotions were all over the place, raw and the pain was still fresh.

“Are you sure?” Justin checked.

“I don’t mind. Besides, Tara is going to live with us for a while. We’ll be fine.”

“Fine. Send me cute baby photos.”

“Speaking of baby photos,” Molly quipped up. “I want to see my niece!”

Justin pulled out his phone, scrolling through the gallery to show her a couple dozen pictures of Cecilia.

“Her name is Brianna as well?” Molly pointed to the name of the album holding the photos.

“Your twat of a brother insisted on that name. We commonly agreed she needs another first name, because then the abbreviation of her name would have been BTK.” Brian snorted, shaking her head.

“She doesn’t even know who BTK is, Brian,” Justin chided him. “Do you?” He turned to Molly.

“Brianna Taylor-Kinney?”

“It’s the pseudonym of a guy who killed ten people back in the seventies and eighties. He was known as The BTK Killer,” Brian explained.

“What did the letters stand for?”

“I think you’re too young for that,” Justin said loudly, glaring at Brian, daring him to say more. “The thing is, we agreed on Cecilia Brianna Taylor-Kinney.”

“Damn, that’s a mouthful,” Molly said softly. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Have you thought about our proposal?” Justin asked, stubbing his cigarette on his sole.

“I’ve applied to several colleges in New York, and a couple on the west coast. But I have to focus on my last year of high school until then – SATs, good grades, Prom… you know?”

Justin cupped her cheek. “Whatever you decide, I’ll encourage you.”

#

It was late at night, and Brian had long since left for the airport to head back home to their daughter. Justin sat at the kitchen table in his mother’s house, staring out the window, deep in thought.

The light was flipped on, and his mother let out a surprised gasp.

“Goodness, Justin!” Her hands were over her chest.

“Sorry, Mom,” he said, sheepishly. “I thought everyone was asleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted, heading to the fridge. She opened the door, stared inside for a moment, then closed the door.

“Ah, I see I got this from you!” Justin laughed quietly. “It drives Brian crazy when I open the fridge only to close it, and then ten minutes later, I do it again, as if something new magically appears in there.”

His mother smiled softly, taking a seat next to him. “It used to upset Craig, too. Tuck understands me. He sometimes does it, as well.”

Justin reached out to take his mom’s hands in his. “Did I ever tell you that I’m happy you found Tucker?” As her puzzled look, he went on, “I admit, I’m not his greatest fan, but he’s a nice guy. Don’t ask me why I can’t get over the fact that he’s a few years younger than Brian, but it fucks with my head when I see you holding hands or kissing.”

“I understand, honey. And I’m glad you gave him a chance.”

“He makes you happy, and he’s great with Molly. She talks about him all the time.” Justin smiled wistfully, remembering all his conversations with his sister about Tucker.

Jennifer rubbed her thumbs over Justin's hand. “He never had the courage to call you, even though I told him to do it. You might have said no, but at least, he’d have tried.”

Justin pulled away, not ready to talk again about his dad. He’d had to be nice all day, and all he wanted to do was tell everyone what a homophobic pig Craig used to be.

“Honey, hear me out. I didn’t tell you about seeing him a few times, because I knew you’d flip out.”

“No shit?” Justin scoffed.

“Justin, Craig never stopped loving you. He always wanted his boy, but he was too proud to drop his preconceived ideas about homosexuality.”

“Mom, I never want to speak about him again.”

“I promise to never bring in discussion again, but let’s have this conversation now, okay?”

Justin rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Hypothetically, if he called you to meet?”

“Hypothetically,” Justin stressed out. “I’d have told him to fuck off.”

“Wouldn’t you have been in the least curious?”

“Mom, my last ever interaction with him was seeing his smug mug while the cops lifted me up. This should go right up there with hitting your own child, but it’s worse.”

“He regretted it—”

“Look,” Justin snapped, getting up. “I’m done talking about this. You changed your opinion about him because you both gave each other another chance. Even if he’d have reached out to me, and even if Brian had tried to make me see him, I’d have never forgiven him.” Justin stopped in the doorway. “He was dead to me since he wanted to run Brian over, but I kept giving him a new chance at every turn. Now, he’s really dead.”

“Oh, Justin.”

He didn’t stick around to hear what his mother had to say. He locked himself in the guest bedroom, and dialed Brian's number.

“Fuck, Justin!” Brian sounded upset.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong, but I bet you can hear it.”

Justin could feel his stomach doing a flip. Cecilia was wailing. “Oh, ooops.”

“Ooops? For fuck’s sake! It took us three hours to settle her! Poor Tara went to bed at my insistence. So I just managed to calm Cecilia, and you called.”

“I’m sorry? I’ll make it up to you by waking up at night when she cries for a month.”

He could hear Brian shushing their daughter, and Justin could feel his heart squeezing. He couldn’t wait to get back to them.

He didn’t even have to overthink his sudden decision. There was nothing holding him back in Pittsburgh. Staying the night had been a bad decision. Except from catching up with his family, he’d managed to get angry about his mother’s trying to paint his dad as the good guy.

“I’m coming back.”

“I’d be worried if you stayed there.”

“No, I mean, I’m coming back now.” Justin pushed his clothes in the backpack Brian had left behind.

“Don’t be a twat.”

“I don’t want to fight with Mom because she can’t seem to understand that I’ll never forgive Craig. I hate his fucking guts. He probably had the last laugh while I was trying to give a civilized eulogy, making a fool of myself talking about a man I barely knew.”

“Justin— Sunshine, judging by his letter, he truly loved you,” Brian said quietly.

“Not you, too!” Justin groaned. “Christ, Brian. I’m gonna hang up so you can calm Cecilia. I’ll be home in a few hours, judging by how fast I can find a plane.”

“We’ll wait for you.”