Love in a Trunk

Britin 2008

Justin entered the dark attic with trepidation. A call from his mother asking to store a few boxes and some family furniture during the renovation of her town house had prompted this dusty attic visit. Where in the hell was he supposed to store all his mom’s shit so that nothing got damaged and Brian did not have a queen out over the domesticity of it all? Storing the mother in law’s family heirlooms and antique furniture couldn’t get any more domestic, unless they used his Grandmother’s hundred-year-old Austrian wedding crystal and fine china for a formal Sunday dinner. Brian would go running, screaming, and drooling into the nearest bottle of Beam and never come out if he found out about this favor they were doing for Jennifer. While he was trying to figure out where he was going to put everything, Justin moved some boxes to the side to make room. Which is when he discovered a large wooden trunk.

The large black wooden trunk looked really old and had a beautiful Celtic design on the top. Justin had never seen the trunk before and wondered where it had come from. He pulled the cumbersome piece of luggage into the middle of the room, closer to the light from the large attic window. As he sat down, images of lost treasures from the manor’s previous owners danced in his head. The storage container had an old rusted lock that held firm when he tugged on it. Never one to be deterred, Justin retrieved a crowbar from the shed and pried the lock assembly off the trunk. The rusty hinges squealed in protest when he lifted the heavy lid.

The surprising contents revealed more about love to Justin than he thought he could ever learn in a lifetime.

As he looked inside, the first thing Justin found was a large handmade quilt with Irish wedding knots in the design. The quilt was very old but had been kept in a very modern plastic cover for preservation and protection. The next few things; a handwritten cookbook, an embroidered sampler, and a container of dried flowers, were admired then set aside. The next item, a small intricately carved box, was full of small rocks, smooth river rock pebbles and hand carved wooden medallions. The last items where three shoebox sized containers.

The first container he opened held a small crocheted baby blanket in blue. Stuffed in with the blanket there were a few pictures of an older lady holding a small baby boy with dark auburn hair. A hand carved baby rattle and a few small toys cars rattled in the bottom of the box.  A small folded child’s drawing of hearts and flowers was the last thing in the box.

The second container held many more objects. A small fuzzy blue baby blanket, an ‘I love my Daddy’ bib, and a baby hat with teddy bear ears were on top. What caught Justin’s immediate attention, though, was the hand full of pictures of the small boy and a beautiful man, both with bright hazel eyes. There were school awards, childish drawings, and a few small cars in the bottom of the box. The last thing in the box was a pair of baby Prada booties, that made Justin chuckle.

The third box was the most surprising to Justin. He never expected to find this stuff in a box, in a trunk, hidden away in the attic. He had always wondered where the blue plaid shirt he had worn their first night together had gone. The handful of pictures of them over the years brought tears to his eyes. The newspaper clippings of Justin’s show reviews and the theater tickets to that Broadway show they went to a few years back while he was in New York made his heart swell. The last thing in the box was their wedding invitation folded together with a dried golden gardenia.

As Justin looked in the bottom of the trunk he realized that there was a small hole in the back and the depth of the bottom of the trunk was too shallow. The trunk obviously had a false bottom and, being the curious cat that he was, Justin lifted the bottom up to reveal one last container.  The first thing Justin found in this one was a weird doll attached at the back to a stick. The man doll had brown hair and facial hair. The doll was dressed in ugly clothes and was vaguely familiar to Justin. The doll had a large stick pin stuck right in its heart and a safety pin where his junk would have been. The violin attached to the doll’s hand clinched Justin’s suspicions.

Holy shit, Justin thought, it’s a fucking voodoo doll of fucking Ethan. Justin set the creepy doll down with shaky hands. What the hell had Brian done? The only other thing in the container was an envelope. He opened the envelope to find a few newspaper articles, a hospital bill, and a few receipts.

The first newspaper article stated that Ethan had been attacked by a pack of rabid feral cats annoyed by one of his street corner violin concerts. He was expected to make a full recovery after receiving painful rabies vaccines and citations for causing a riot and being a public nuisance. The headline of the next article read, ‘Local Violinist Found In Motel Room With Two Male Prostitutes - Causes Scandal at Pittsburgh Philharmonic’. The third article stated that an undisclosed man was suing a local hair salon, after a hair oil treatment mishap caused the man to become permanently bald. A source close to the case said the man had unnaturally greasy hair anyway and expected the case to be dismissed. The last article said that violinist Ethan Gold was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct while harassing pedestrians with a musical instrument at the Riverside mall. After treatment at a mental hospital, Mr. Gold was said to have joined a monastery for a period of quiet reflection. A source close to the situation had joked, “that violin of his sounds like two cats fucking and he needs time to reflect on just whose karma he fucked with.” The hospital bill was from when Justin had ex-rays for bruised ribs after a fight with Ethan over calling out Brian’s name during sex. The receipts were for a donation to the local cat rescue center and for hair care chemicals. Justin figured he knew exactly whose karma Ethan had fucked with and karma can be one mean ass, label wearing, Beam chugging, hot as all hell, hazel-eyed demon.

Justin looked up as a shadow fell over him indicating that he was not alone in the attic anymore.

Brian leaned against the rafter and gave one of his patented smirks with an eyebrow raised for good measure. “Find anything interesting, Sunshine?” he snarked.

Justin stood up and welcomed him home with a deep kiss and a megawatt smile. “Explain, Brian. Don’t leave anything out,” Justin replied.

Brian sighed and kneeled down by the trunk. He ran his hand across the wood and started to put the stuff back in the box with practiced precision. “Okay Sunshine, but can we go down stairs and get a drink for this talk?” Brian asked.

After putting all the stuff back in the trunk they went down to the den and snuggled up on the couch with a large glass of Beam each. Brian shifted so he could run his hands through Justin’s silky hair. It was the way he calmed himself when he had these deep discussions with Justin.

“The trunk belonged to my Grandmother. She left it to me when she died. She didn’t want my mother or sister to get it. She said it was a trunk for love and those two didn’t know shit about love. My Gran Kinney hated my mom and thought my sister was just like her. Gran was the only one that loved me as a little kid. She knew my dad was a loser but he was her kid. She died when I was 6 and left the box with a friend. I got it when I was 18, along with a long letter from Gran. The trunk was her mom’s back in Ireland. It was made by her dad. The quilt was a wedding present for her and my Gramps. She made the sampler as a girl and compiled the cookbook throughout her life. My grandparents were poor so she saved the flowers he gave her and he saved rocks and pebbles from places they went. That’s how they remembered anniversaries, births and other special occasions. Gramps was a good wood carver so he carved the medallions for real special things and the rock box. They were married for over 50 years and loved each other till each took their final breath.”

“Gran said she always felt that I was special and would find a special love one day. I never understood what she meant until I saw love standing under a lamp post and then again looking into my son’s eyes.” Brian finally quieted and took a large gulp of his Beam before he continued. “The hospital bill came right before I took that business trip to New Orleans. I saw you wince when you lifted the bus tray at the diner. It wasn’t hard to add up the pieces, Justin. Anyway, I was down on Bourbon Street soaking up the local culture, when I came across this little shop. The owner called me in and proceeded to tell me someone I loved was in pain. Skeptical, but yeah I figured, what the hell. So she made the doll after I described who I thought was hurting you. The stick pin was to stop him from breaking our love. The safety pin was so Ian would keep his dick away from what I have always considered mine, selfish asshole that I am. He had pins in other places but I removed those after he joined the monastery in Tibet. So that is the story of ‘The Fiddler on a Stick’ in a nutshell.”

Brian looked at Justin to see if he was pissed or hurt. Justin looked at Brian and blinked a few times just trying to process all the information. Brian grew concerned when Justin remained quiet, but stood up and walked out of the room. His Sunshine could be a real bitch, when provoked and voodoo dolling his ex may just be that little provocation Justin needed for a full drama princess queen out.

Justin came back into the room holding a shoebox in his hands. He handed the box to Brian as he sat down and snuggled into his partner. Brian held the box as if it was a bomb waiting to go off. Justin giggled and told Brian to man up and open the damn box. Brian opened the box and hesitantly took out the contents. Brian held up the pair of g string underwear he had worn their first night together. Justin shrugged. Brian looked through the hand full of pictures, plane tickets, and other mementos from the years of their relationship. The last thing in the box was their wedding invitation with a dried golden gardenia.

Brian looked at Justin then he said “you always were a sentimental twat”.

Justin shrugged again. “It was always love to me, Brian” Justin replied then stood up and held out his hand to the love of his life.

After that the only communication was their own very special way of silent talking as they went upstairs to bed for a deep, long, hard discussion that lasted all night.