BEYOND THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD-CHAPTER 13-SEGUE

JUSTIN’S POV
and I really have enjoyed my stay,
but I must be moving on

“You know, I remember the first night I met you,” Daniel said to you from his end of the sofa on your last Saturday night in New York. He was drinking a cordial of some sort from a glass that was no doubt more expensive than what was in it.

“Yeah,” you said and smiled as you jiggled the ice in yours. Daniel made a pretty decent vodka tonic. The two of you and Jonathon, Harper, Sam, and Amelia had just had dinner together at a restaurant in the Village. ‘The Last Supper,’ Harper had dubbed it as she’d ordered a Shirley Temple for Amelia.

Jonathon waited patiently as your waitress fetched the drink for Amelia, and Sam told her, “Might as well make it another round. I’m going to be drunk as hell by the time we ever actually get this toast off the ground.”

Jonathon changed the subject, “Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to bestow our going away gift upon you.” He reached under the table and handed you a beautifully wrapped box, a cube around nine inches wide.

“What is this?” you asked.

“Open it,” Harper said with a smile that scared you.

“I’m not responsible for this gift,” Daniel added. “This was not my idea.”

Harper distracted Amelia by tucking the ever-present strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear, “I wish you’d let me put a barrette in your hair, ‘Melia.”

Amelia pushed Harper’s hand away with a dramatic flourish, almost knocking her incoming beverage out of your waitress’s hand, “No. No, Mommy. No ‘bret.” And then she rubbed her eyes; she was getting tired. Her eyes always looked darker when she was sleepy; her red dress starting to sparkle brighter than they were; she was a beautiful little girl even at the glorious age of two and a half. You opened the gift, trying not to destroy the gorgeous wrapping job Jonathon had done. He had a bizarre conglomeration of talents. Amelia asked for the bow and you gave it to her. It occupied her for the next twenty minutes because she insisted on wearing it on her head, “I’m a present,” she announced to the table as the bow slid off of her hair and onto her plate.

Once the paper was gone, you could see the writing on the box: Rolodix. “What the hell is this?” you asked.

“Just open it, Justin,” Jonathon chided you.

You pulled it out of the box. Well, it was a Rolodex. One with, um, bonus features.

Harper began to explain, probably because of the wary look on your face, “I helped Jonathon put this together. It’s all of our contacts, galleries, our addresses, everything you’ll need to continue your career—"

Jonathon chimed in an annoyingly upbeat tone, “And randomly throughout it, there are pictures of naked men.”

“And our pictures,” Harper added, “but we’re not naked.”

You spun the Rolodix quickly and were treated to a collage of various nude men spinning in front of your face like a pornographic kaleidoscope, “Uh, thank you?”

Daniel added with more than a hint of sarcasm, “Supposedly it makes your workday go by so much faster.”

“Or harder,” Jonathon added with an evil grin.

“We just don’t want you to forget us, Eggo. That’s all,” Harper added.

“I promise you I won’t.”

Once the last round of drinks arrived, Jonathon cleared his throat and raised his glass, “To Justin. May the rest of your life be as beautiful as the paintings you’ve so graciously sold us.”

Laughter rang out at the table as every glass clanked together. Daniel rolled his eyes at you as if he couldn’t believe that everyone waited for that. He’d been unusually quiet all evening.

Harper excused herself to use the restroom after trying unsuccessfully to convince Amelia to join her. Amelia refused, ignoring Harper when she said, “You’re wearing underwear, Amelia, not a diaper. Don’t forget that.”

“Justin, my panties are pink and lellow,” Amelia told you, frustrated that they were covered by her dress and her tights such that she wasn’t able to prove it to you.

Harper shook her head at her headstrong daughter and wove through the tables toward the bathroom, her brown leather purse that she’d been carrying since the day you met her dangling from her fingers. Sam watched her go, and it gave you a sense of déjà vu as you watched his eyes follow her ass ‘til it disappeared. His attentive stare reminded you of Brian.

Amelia broke your daze by dropping her fork on the floor as your waitress was approaching with the dessert tray. Daniel and Jonathon started shaking their heads at each other before she was even halfway to the table, which meant that they’d definitely order dessert. There was something about a post-sugar angst that always remained irresistible to the two of them. After they ordered, Daniel rested his forehead on his palm and stared at the table as if he was ashamed of himself for wanting ‘something chocolate.’

The conversation turned to something socio-political-economical after that, as it always did when Sam was around anybody who had the ability to converse. He liked to expound a lot. Sam was in mid-sentence, “All I’m saying is—,” when Harper returned to the table.

She picked Amelia’s little black coat up off the back of an empty chair and motioned to her husband and daughter, “Come on. Put your coat on Amelia. It’s time to go.”

Sam seemed miffed by the timing, “Can’t we stay a little longer? ‘Melia’s fine. She took a good nap today.”

“No, we need to go,” Harper responded in a voice that settled the issue. You got up and followed them out the door, leaving Daniel and Jonathon completely engrossed in their new pastime: who can name the most varieties of cheese?

*****************
when your girl has left you out on the pavement

You told Jonathon and Daniel that you’d be right back, but they were oblivious to your actions, their cheese game getting very intense very quickly. It wasn’t until you stepped outside of the restaurant into the biting cold air that you realized why Harper had exited so rapidly. Sam was leaning into her, his hand on her shoulder,

“So, this means you’re not?”

She replied, “That’s what they taught me in sex ed, Sam. So, I guess not.” He took Amelia’s hand and walked away with her, letting her run on the sidewalk and pretend to play hopscotch with herself. Amelia was determined to learn how to hop on one foot. Harper turned to you as you were lighting up, an attempt to keep yourself warm. She took your cigarette away from you, claiming it as she spoke, “I don’t suppose you have a tampon on you.”

“Sorry, just used my last one,” you replied as you lit your own cigarette.

“Yeah, well, that’s what sucks about being friends with gay men. They won’t go to the bathroom with you and they never have anything you need.” The crisp air stilled between the two of you for a few seconds as you stared at her face. Smoking was the only quiet thing that Harper could do with her mouth.

“You thought you were pregnant?”

“Apparently, I’m not.”

You couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Harper could be hard to read sometimes.

……

……

“I suck at goodbyes, Justin.” That’s why she was testy all of a sudden. “Fuck, I’m going to miss you,” she added, blowing her smoke in the other direction so she didn’t have to look at your face, “Really going to miss you.”

“Me, too.”

“I feel like you’re the second brother I’ll never see.”

“Please tell Alan goodbye for me. That I’ll miss him.”

“I will.”

“You’re going to stay in our space, right?” Somehow you felt more comfortable leaving knowing that. You weren’t exactly sure why.

“Yeah, Daniel almost threw a fit when I started looking for another space, so I guess so.”

“I’m glad. Sometimes he needs company.”

“I know.”

Amelia hopped past the two of you, her black patent leather shoes smacking the sidewalk as she counted to herself, “One, two three, five and nine and ten!”

“And Amelia, I’m really going to miss her.”

Harper glanced back at her daughter, “And she’s going to miss you. She tells me every single day that you’re the one who painted that tea party mural on the wall in her room.” You smiled. “When we were leaving to come here tonight, Sam picked her up, only to realize that she’d stuffed one of her play waffles and a plastic slice of pizza in her panties. She wanted to give them to you.”

“She’s crafty.”

“Yeah, Sam told her, ‘We don’t carry presents in our panties, ‘Melia.’ I laughed so hard, I almost fell down the stairs. Then Amelia says to him, ‘But it’s a waffle for Waffle,’ and he replied, ‘Justin doesn’t want what’s in your panties.’”

“Truer words were never spoken.”

Harper laughed, “I know. That’s what I told him…Sometimes he’s very prophetic, like that…Shame Maya couldn’t be here tonight.”

“She’s meeting Brian’s parents in Connecticut.”

“Going to the chapel, huh?” she asked.

“Looks that way.”

“Well, good for her…Seems like a lot of ‘Brians’ are getting lucky this week.” You weren’t sure if she was being literal or metaphorical, but with Harper it was usually both.

……

……

And then she stepped on her cigarette and leaned in to hug you, whispering in your ear, “Don’t stop painting. Don’t let your muse get fat and happy.”

“I won’t.”

The two of you stood hugging on the street for a few seconds. When she pulled away, she smiled at you and said, “Just remember, the only difference between good art and love—"

“Is that art lasts longer.”

*****************
maybe you'll get a replacement
there's plenty like me to be found

So Daniel was reminding you of the night he met you, his fingers tapping randomly against his glass as he stared at the liquor inside it, “Do you remember?”

“Of course.”

“You know, what I remember most is how you thought I wanted you to sleep with me because I wasn’t able to buy your painting that night.”

You laughed and blushed a little, but the room was fairly dim, so he probably didn’t notice. “That was because you said I could ‘make it up to you.’”

“And when you came back here with Jonathon and I to that get-together I was having that night, I’ll never forget the look on your face when I was giving you the tour and we got to my bedroom—"

“Don’t embarrass me—"

“I couldn’t tell if you wanted to sleep with me or you thought that’s what I expected.” Now Daniel was laughing, too.

“Can we not talk about this?” you asked, but you couldn’t stop smiling. It had been pretty funny.

“I thought to myself, ‘God, this guy must get randomly propositioned all the time. He doesn’t miss a beat.’”

“Yeah, well I do. I’m not exactly used to subtlety in that department.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that it was your boyfriend who was always randomly propositioning you.”

“You’d understand if you knew him…It’s sort of how he expresses affection.” And anger. And jealousy. And sadness. And everything.

He’d made you think of the night you called Brian four months ago to ask to come home. Brian had sounded so grateful, so relieved; it made you feel guilty that you weren’t there right then so he could just fuck you and feel better. Sometimes you felt like it was truly his only real release. You blinked out of your daydream, listening to Daniel again,

“—and then when I asked you if I could commission you to paint a mural for my office, you look so surprised. That I was really interested in your art.”

“You were interested in more than that; you just thought that was your way in.”

……

……

“Yeah, well, I should learn my lesson. Art lasts longer.” Daniel glanced around his living room at the examples displayed everywhere. “And it even keeps you company.” He set down his empty glass and lengthened his arm along the back of the sofa, his index finger pointing at the box on the coffee table, “Sorry about the crude gift.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s fun… and useful.”

“Like you.”

“Huh?”

“Like you. It’s been so much fun having you here, and you’ve been useful, too, helping me out, looking after the place, I mean…I’m going to miss that.” Daniel’s words seemed to slow down as they rose in his throat, almost surprising you when they actually came out.

Now it was your turn to stare at your drink, your fingers shining with condensation, “I’m going to miss you, too. And I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me…what you’ve given me.” You paused for a second before continuing, “And I’m sorry I let things get mucked up in the beginning.”

“Don’t be. Sometimes two cars are just meant to crash, no matter what path they take.” The two of you simultaneously stared at the fire burning in the fireplace as if you’d been cued. “And I’ve thought about it, we’re not suited for each other, even if you weren’t with someone else.”

That surprised you. “We’re not?”

“I’d smother you to death. I’d never be able to let you go live away from me for all these years, not knowing where you were, what you were doing.” He shook his head, “I’m not cut out for that…Probably too insecure.” You sat your glass on the table as he finished his thought, “It takes a strong man to live without the person he loves for five years.”

“Six.”

“Right. Six. Even better….So, have you found a workspace yet in Pennsylvania?”

“No, not exactly. Well, not officially, rather. The art school that I sort of attended is offering me a place on their faculty, and that would include my own space.”

“Justin, that’s fantastic. You’re going do it?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“What would you be teaching?”

“Sort of a seminar class on graphic art versus traditional disciplines. It’s not an actual class or anything, feels more like a workshop to me.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”

*****************
you can't plant me in your penthouse
I'm going back to my plough

The afternoon sun was right in your eyes as you finished packing up your studio that Tuesday afternoon. When Daniel arrived home, he spoke to you from the doorway on his tiptoes because you were practically hidden by boxes, “So, I guess this is it, huh?”

You surveyed the sea of cardboard you’d created, “Yeah, I guess so. And listen, everything’s labeled with my name and address, so there shouldn’t be any problem when the movers get here.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll make sure they take care of it.” Daniel wandered over to one of the boxes, examining your address, “West Virginia?”

“Yeah, Brian’s house…our house, I guess, is in West Virginia. He works in Pittsburgh.”

“Hmm. Didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, it’s this big mansion, basically.”

“Wow.”

You gave your studio one more once over before letting Daniel know, “Gotta go home and pack now, and I promised Maya we’d go out to dinner.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow and you haven’t packed your apartment?”

“I have almost nothing there. I’ll just stuff it all in this really big duffle bag.”

“You know, for a guy who’s close to thirty, you sure travel light.”

You laughed, “Force of habit. Long story.”

*****************
and I hope that you're still out there and you're like you used to be

Everyone offered to go with you to the airport that Wednesday, but you politely refused. There were only so many goodbyes one person can take. And as you walked through the airport that day, you felt a another shiver of déjà vu once again, your solitary walk through the terminal reminding you of the one you’d made six years ago when you left Pittsburgh.

So that no matter who you’re ever with, I’ll always be there.

Only this time, you weren’t overcome with heartache from leaving Brian, you were anxious to be with him again. You’d changed a lot in six years, grown up a lot, and Brian had seen some of it, glimpses of it during passionate encounters that the two of you had over the years. But he hadn’t seen all of it, the incident with Cody bringing out the protector in him and a fiercely independent streak in you. Only once had you and Brian spoken specifically about that day, a few weeks after you’d returned to the city, and for whatever reason, the conversation disintegrated into an argument that you didn’t feel like having. You sort of remember deliberately reminding Brian that you were in New York for yourself, not because he felt you should be there. It was stupid, just one of those spats that frustrated people have sometimes, but the sadness in his voice that he tried to hide the next couple of times you spoke to him started to make you ache—to go home and fix things, to do something to make that despondent tone go away.

It’s only time.

Six years ago, when you started this journey, it felt like so much more than time. It felt like heartbreak, like endless longing, as if the two of you, even though you were in different states, were still together, only trapped on either side of a soundproof wall that once in a while became transparent. It wouldn’t be the first time that Brian had watched you through a window. Perhaps, he was just better at it than you were.

But all along, Brian had been right; it was only time, and like money, it spent like crazy, both of you feeling like your pockets were full of it. Half of the time when you pulled a dollar out of your pocket, you expected to see Brian’s face on it instead of George Washington’s.

In Kinney we trust.

You laughed at your ridiculous imagination, as if Brian’s face would ever be on a one dollar bill.

Your imagination morphed into reality when they called your flight, “Flight six forty-seven, New York to Pittsburgh, now boarding…”

A tiny jolt of excitement shot through your entire body as you lined up with a crowd of mostly businessmen, eventually taking your rightful seat with them in first class. The coach seat you’d initially purchased was fine with you, but Brian strongly encouraged you to upgrade immediately. You weren’t even living with him yet, and the red carpet was already tickling the bottoms of your feet.

*****************
as if I didn't know my own bed

As you rode in the cab to the house in West Virginia, the sun was setting against a persistent skyline of thick, gray clouds. Going from New York to Pittsburgh to the outskirts of West Virginia had planted a mosaic of images in your head on some sort of continuum from busy and hectic to almost serene. Miles and miles of nothing but undeveloped land welcomed you home as you took a deep breath and smiled.

You’d made the right decision.

Brian had overnighted you a key to the house that Monday morning, but you had to call him and let him know you were home already because it wouldn’t turn. The irony of having come that far only to not be able to get in the door wasn’t lost on you.

When you stepped inside the house, you were immediately struck by the echo you weren’t expecting. The dark interior of the place seemed awfully empty, but as you wandered around on the ground floor, you saw that it wasn’t empty; it was just huge. The cleaning lady had probably come that morning because you couldn’t find a trash can with trash in it or a fleck of dust anywhere.

Brian would be home in twenty six minutes.

You walked upstairs carefully, your bag on one shoulder and your head raised eyeing the wrought iron light fixtures that hung over the foyer. There was only one door open on the second floor; it was Brian’s bedroom.

It too was dark, decorated with a myriad of shades of dark blue, only much more ornate than anything you’d ever seen in the loft. Your black duffle bag looked out of place when you propped it in a chair next to the bed. Indeed, the chair almost looked offended.

There was a gas fireplace at the foot of Brian’s bed and recent pictures of Mel, Lindsay, and the kids on the mantle. There wasn’t a picture of you. The Christmas card you’d sent him a couple of months ago was there however, along with the one you’d sent him the year before that. His bed was made and very different from the one at the loft. This one had a black wrought iron bed frame and was much higher off the ground, suiting a tall man like Brian much better. You ran your hand over the embroidered designs on the bedspread, enjoying the way they rippled underneath your fingers. You stepped into the bathroom and your senses were already smelling Brian’s cologne, his after shave, his body after he’d showered, before you’d even drawn a breath in the spacious room. There was more that you could look at, more that you could touch, but you began to feel like you were snooping, so you left your bag in the haughty chair and went back downstairs to the living room to wait for Brian.

The living room struck you as stepped through the doorway because it was so different from the last time you’d been here, the hardwood floor that the two of you made love on now covered with a beautiful oriental rug replete with autumn tones. Although Brian had kept a lot of the whites and off-whites he’d used at the loft, they were layered with hues of pumpkin and gold and even a deep burgundy that made the room feel warm and welcoming and wealthy. And in the midst of all of that elegance, fanned proudly on the coffee table, were the latest issues of every men’s magazine you could think of. You sat on the sofa and picked one up, rarely a clothed man inside.

Except you, when your picture fell out.

It was a picture that someone had taken of the two of you at your abandoned rehearsal dinner. Brian was in the shot smiling down at you. You wondered if he still had that jacket; the two of you had fucked quite ferociously after you’d called off your wedding, and seeing Brian in that jacket again was beginning to make your pants tight. You tucked the picture back inside the magazine it’d fallen out of and picked up another one to read while waiting for him.

Ten minutes.

You tried to read an article entitled, Seven Brand New Ways to Please Your Man—Tonight!, but when the article suggested that your partner might enjoy your mouth ‘someplace that you’ve probably never thought of!’, you tossed it back on the table. Clearly, Brian wasn’t buying those magazine for the articles.

Two minutes earlier than you’d expected, you saw headlights coming down the road, and you stood by the window to see if it was him. You were clutching your hand to your chest, unknowingly pressing against your heart as if to silence it, as you watched his car turn into the driveway. The garage door groaned as he raised it, but his car stopped several feet before pulling in.

He’d seen you in the window.

You watched with pleasure as his long legs emerged from the car, a slim briefcase in his right hand, and walked down the sidewalk to the front door. He pushed it open as you pulled, smiling as you almost made him fall through the entrance.

You apologized to the lapel of his black overcoat as he wrapped his arms around you, his right hand moving off of you only long enough to slam the door.


Lyrics taken from Supertramp’s Goodbye Stranger, ABC’s The Look of Love, Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road twice, Steve Winwood’s Back In the High Life, and Paul Simon’s Graceland.