CHAPTER SEVEN: THE MERRY GO ROUND HAS BROKEN DOWN

HUNTER:

Home at last! Well it would be considered that, if I had a home. For the last two months, it’s been drilled in my head that I really don’t. In fact, it’s been said over and over again to other people. Everywhere we went, I was ‘oh, that’s just some homeless kid, I picked up. He has his uses though,’ or ‘His mother is a crackhead; he’s a hustler. So I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree there.’ But his absolute favorite, and the one that really scares me the most has been,  ‘By the time we get back to Pittsburgh, maybe Ben will realize that you’re more trouble than you’re worth!’ It’s not that I can’t take care of myself. I have been doing that for myself, by myself, since the tender age of ten. It’s just that, when Ben could have taken advantage of what I was offering, he didn’t. He was the very first man that I’d ever offered myself to, or was forced upon me, that didn’t forget that I was a kid, in favor of getting his needs met. Sure, I came away with money, but with Ben, I came away with something even better at the time. A coat! It was what I needed even more than food at the time, and with Ben, I had plenty of that, too.

I think the thing that disturbs me the most, since I naturally distrust people, is that Michael managed to fool everyone, including me. In front of others, he comes off as this really caring person, always willing to lend a helping hand or have a kind word. He’s not a troll, so he uses his looks of innocence to his utmost advantage even at his thirty year old age. But if any of them bothered to really look closely instead of remaining prey to his dubious charm, they would see the cold, calculating cunt he really is. That, and so much more has been revealed to me in the time we have been away... like his real motive for taking me away.

It wasn’t only about taking me away from Ben, but trying to force Brian to choose him over Blondie. I mean, I haven’t been around that long, but even Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles could see that Michael doesn’t stand a chance of that happening. Hell add Jose Feliciano and Andreas Bocelli to them along with the three blind mice and you’ll have a choir squeaking and singing in really great voices about what an idiotic asshole he is. It would certainly be worth the price of admission to hear that! But on a serious note, pardon the pun, but one would think that the lack of phone calls from his best friend over the past two months would have been his first clue that he doesn’t register on Brian’s relationship radar; that there is simply no competition to be had because he just doesn’t rate. But not for Michael.

His chronic agitation and overactive imagination has him believing that Blondie has Brian held hostage and was simply not letting Brian pick up the phone. I would say that Michael is delusional, but no! He’s absolutely sane! Greedy and entitled, yes, but crazy he is not, even though his hair-brained schemes could be construed as such. The shock he received this afternoon should have driven home the point that Brian is a man who still does what he wants to do. But of course, that was completely disregarded in favor of what Michael still wants to believe. Instead of desperation breeding strange bedfellows, it’s just multiplying the dust mites sitting comfortably in the cavity where Michael’s brain should be talking him out of his abject stupidity.

When the call came in from Brian, I was just stepping onto the terrace of the place we’ve been staying in since the day after we’d left Pittsburgh. It was with this guy that Michael knows named Lance Freeman, who lives off the coast of North Carolina. I have to admit that the place was great, but the price I paid for being there… well it wasn’t. The thing about comic book geeks, even those who are well-off like Lance, is that many of them can’t climb out of the cartooned pages long enough to go get laid on their own. Either someone has to find their tricks for them, or they arrange to have a friend visit. So Michael choosing the place wasn’t quite as innocuous as he originally wanted me to believe. At some point, I decided that if I was going to be treated as a hustler, than I was going to reap the monetary reward as one.

The only highlight for me was that I could sneak and use the phone to call Ben when I wasn’t being watched constantly. In retrospect, Michael had to keep me contained so that his secrets and plans wouldn’t lose their element of surprise. Only he wasn’t counting on the fact that I was tired of being under his thumb, or that I would be infinitely pissed about what I’d overheard during Michael’s screeching tirade to Lance following phone call asking for the code to his computer. So with a little bit of blackmail and a conniving trick of my own, and I’m back in the Pitts with money to spare. Michael and Lance should wake up tomorrow afternoon sometime, but by the time they do, I’ll have been long gone, having left no trace that I’ve been there. But Michael will have a whole other problem when he finally realizes that the one person who has about as much loyalty to him as he does to me, has escaped his little web of lies.

So getting off the bus at the terminal, I had a couple of choices. Although I want to see Ben in the worse way, I decide to head to the loft. What I have to say can’t wait, nor should it. You see, although I have lied, and yes, even sometimes stolen from people to survive, I still try to be as honest as I can. Many people my age don’t think about Heaven or Hell, but I do. If at the end of my life Satan is planning to roast me on the end of his pitchfork, I want to at least give myself a chance of pleading my case to God. Weird, I know, but it’s how I see it. Hailing a cab with a backpack full of my worldly possessions, which should tell you just what my life has been amounting to, I give the address to the home of Brian and Blondie.

I must not have realized how tired and wound up I was, because before I can even register that I was asleep, the cab driver wakes me and tells me we have arrived. He was nice about it where I would imagine other people wouldn’t be, even asked me if I wanted him to wait. Niceness in people always causes me to be wary of their motivations, so I was about to snap at him. But then I really look at him and notice that he has kind eyes, a lot like Vic and Ben. So I smile and thank him for the lift before sending him on his way. But he seems reluctant to let me go, at first.

He hands me his card. “My name’s James Fillmore.”

“Hunter Montgomery. James Hunter Montgomery,” I find myself telling him, much to my own amazement.

“Well, young man who shares my name, if you ever need anything, give me a call. My wife, Glenda, is always looking for someone else to nurture now that the last of our eight children has flown the coop. But even if that’s not the case, call anyway. Okay?”

Something in his eyes made me say, “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.” And I will, because if Michael was right, I will need someplace to stay. I want to go to school I want to be normal, which is something I’ve never been. I want to grow to be more than what I’ve become due to drug-induced narcissism and neglect at the hands of Rita. If Ben doesn’t want me anymore, maybe they will. But I just had to know...“Why?”

“One of ours ran away once because he was afraid to tell us something that made no difference to us...”

“Which was?”

“That he was into men, instead of women. I never understood the attraction to the same sex myself, but you know. He was still the son I raised, and I knew his heart was good. It was the only thing that ever mattered to Glenda and I- that we raised good, upstanding children. He’s in law school now, working as a paralegal at a law firm here in town. His gayness doesn’t make or break him. I see that same kind of determination in your eyes, James. So yes, I want to keep up with you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fillmore. I will keep in touch.”

“Promise? And the name is James, James.”

“I promise, and you can call me Hunter,” I tell him, smiling again.

“Hunter it is then. Call if you need a ride. I’m on all night since the wife is working. She’s a nurse down at Allegheny.

I nod and alight from the cab, thinking that maybe being named James isn’t so bad after all. I can’t help but turn back and give a little wave as he drives off. It felt good that someone looked past my circumstances and didn’t just write me off as a nobody the way many have done. Those eight children were damn lucky to have parents like the Fillmores. Many of us abandoned and used ones would have killed for them. Walking up to the front door of the building, I take a deep breath and press the buzzer.

“Who is it?” I recognize that voice immediately and smile.

“It’s me, Blondie. Let me up.”

JUSTIN:

My first inclination is to ask if Michael is with him. I’m sooooo not ready to see that bastard yet. I won’t be held responsible for what I do but the words justifiable homicide come to mind. I can’t imagine that any jury would convict me, due to all the verbal and mental abuse I’ve endured at his hands since the night I met him. Hearing his voice at full whine alone would prove my case. But regardless of all that, his actions would drive an insane man back to good sense just to kick the shit out of him. So it’s with a semi-heavy heart that I press the buzzer to let Hunter in.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m going to be happy to see Hunter. We’ve all been worried about him and the situation with Rita. If ever there was a woman who shouldn’t have been born with the ability to conceive, she definitely fits the bill. But then we wouldn’t have him, and somehow that seems even more unacceptable. Since first meeting him, our relationship has changed. He’s still that cocky kid who revels in being inappropriate, kind of like Brian. Brian hinted that if not for Debbie and Vic, he could have been Hunter. That thought alone gave me a new perspective on the arrogant, self-assured young man. Like the man who has my heart, that overt personality trait hides a wealth of insecurities. Whereas I love it in Brian, in Hunter it was a bit off-putting at first. Perhaps it was because of his age, or the world-weariness within his eyes the first time we met. I know I felt ill-prepared for some of the things which came out of his mouth, even after being with Brian. But as I got to know him by having a couple of conversations during the whole Stockwell planning phase of our lives, I discovered that I actually lucked out in the shitty parent department. Craig somehow looked like a saint compared to Rita, which was saying a whole lot considering the mental abuse I endured at his hands over the years. It was with that tenuous thread that he and I became friends.

The first thing he did when he got to the door was hug me tightly. He buried his face in my neck and I could feel the wetness from his tears leaking down my neck. I instantly went into nurturing mode with him, crooning softly that none of what was going on was his fault, and that we were happy to see him. I knew both from experience and from perception what it was like to feel like you were intruding and unwanted; I wasn’t about to let him think that he was either of those things. For as much as he’s a mini-adult, Hunter is still just a kid who needs reassurance that he has value beyond whatever purpose he can serve. Hell, most of us adults crave that kind of acceptance, so why shouldn’t this teen on the cusp of manhood?

“Come in. Have you eaten yet?”

“No, not yet. Whatcha got, Blondie?”

“Em cooked for us.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt a romantic dinner or anything.”

“You aren’t. It’s a meeting of sorts,” I say as I usher him into the living room. I can tell the exact moment he sees everyone, including Ben. Wariness is radiating from his body as he stops and stares at the man, who he longs to be his father.

“How are you, Ben?” he says, hesitantly.

“Fine. Is Michael with you?”

He stiffens. “No. I left him and Lance hugged up off the coast of North Carolina. Well I guess he was right.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“He told me repeatedly that I didn’t matter in the grand scheme of your life and that your only concern was for his well-being.”

“Still lying, I see. And who the hell is Lance?”

I can tell that Hunter is hurt, so I place my hand on his shoulder to reassure him again. “It’s not you he means about the lying, man. We were discussing a few things that you might not be aware of…”

“I know about the phone call this afternoon. I was on the terrace of the place we’d been staying since we left here. For the record Lance is a fellow comic geek of Michael’s that he’s been visiting for years. They are…”

“They’re lovers?”

“In a manner of speaking. Lance has trouble leaving comic world except to run his internet business from his mansion. Michael fills a void when Lance remembers that having a dick serves a purpose other than pissing.” Hunter turns to Ben. “I left there just to come here and give Brian and Justin some information. I’ll do that and be out of here so I don’t trouble you further.”

“What? You just got here, Hunter.” He bites his lip and thinks about his reaction to Hunter being there. Dropping his eyes, he shakes his head. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Son. I didn’t mean to make it seem as though I’m not happy you’re standing here. I’m just so fucking fucked off!”

Hunter seems to understand Ben’s state of mind because he says, “You’re not the only one.” He looks around, taking in the faces. “I’m glad you’re all here. This will make it easier to tell this story only once.”

“Well, before we do anything, I’m going to give the littlest hustler a hug,” Brian says as he crosses the room. “How the hell have you been surviving? Go get something to eat and sit down before you fall down.”

He smiles gratefully at Brian, before greeting people on the way to the kitchen. Ben still has yet to move from over by the window. I go over to talk to him. “Ben, I know you’re pissed but you can’t take it out on Hunter, especially since he’s not the source of it.”

“I know, and I don’t mean to. I’m just afraid that I will hurt him. I feel like I need to hit something and it’s been a long time since I felt this way. Not since…”

“Roid rage. Only this time you can’t blame the drugs. Believe me, I understand more than you know. I’m still a little bit pissed at Brian for stopping me earlier, but he was right. Me lashing out at Michael in a way that would have ended with me having to pay him wasn’t the best way to go about things, no matter how justified. So I’m going to say something similar to you. Making Hunter pay for the anger you feel towards Michael is not right. He’s your son in all but name; you should show him that.”  

I can tell when my words register with him. Although Brian wouldn’t physically assault me, he used to do the same thing Ben is doing now, and it hurts just as bad if not worse, because it leaves scars that you can’t see. For someone insecure and not sure of their place, emotional withdrawal is just as damaging as being punched repeatedly. In fact, it tends to make you feel like someone stabbed you and left you for dead, or in my case, hit with a bat with that exact intention. Apologies may put a band-aid on the wound, but as soon as it happens again, the scab formed gets ripped open and the implied insult cuts deeper. For Hunter, that’s happened to him more times than anyone should be allotted in their lifetime.

“Justin, how did you know about…?” Ben halts his progress to ask me.

“Contrary to popular belief, Brian and I do more than fuck. We actually have conversations more than we do that.” I smile at him to soften the blow of my words. Then add, “But don’t tell anyone; it would ruin our mystique.”

He snickers and turns to go find his son just as Brian comes over to me by the window. I place a kiss to his lips before sighing deeply. “We need to call Mom.”

“Why?”

“Aside from letting her know about our plans, she may be the only one who can get Debbie to see reason. Some things only another mother would know or be able to understand. At this point, if anyone would be able to get Deb to face the truth about Michael, it would be my mom.”

“I guess it’s that whole estrogen thing?”

“No, but the umbilical cord theory. Instead of cutting it, I snatched mine out where Mom was concerned by taking up with you despite her objections. Debbie will never cut her umbilical cord to Michael away, but continue to be strangled by it as long as he keeps jerking on it whenever it suits him. She’s going to have to decide whether she wants to continue to be suffocated at his whim or finally break free and let him reap what he sows.”

“Your analogies and metaphors are both accurate and disturbing with the images they conjure, Sunshine. But I see your point. I do know this though… she’s not going to be able to yank my chain this time. I’m done. I’m not going to continue being forced to make a choice between Michael and me. I realize now that every time... it wasn’t so much expecting, but demanding that I fix Michael’s life for him at the risk of my sanity and self-respect. Everything I was working on, or working towards had to go on hold if I expected to keep ties to her. Well, not anymore. If putting myself first without guilt or worry means losing Deb means then that what’s going to happen. I will go on and happily live my life free and clear of a debt that I have spent more than half my life repaying. Thanks to a fiery ball of Sunshine, I can honestly say I’m not afraid to shake the dust off my feet and move on. Speaking of which…”

I smile at him full-on. It’s the revelation I’ve been hoping he would eventually get since I first started seeing the underlying dynamics within the group I call the family. I know that it’s going to hurt like hell when Brian has to choose himself over the person who patched him up more times that he could count thanks to Jack’s drunken fists, but I’m just happy to know that he’s finally choosing himself. If I’m included in his decision to do so… well, I just won the damn emotional lottery with that.

As he grabs his phone, I look at him a bit puzzled. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making good on a promise. In the meantime, you go on and call Mother Taylor. I believe that you are right, and sometimes only a mother will do. In this case, it’s Deb’s peer, so perhaps she’ll be inclined to look at the fact with a critical eye instead of those rose-colored glasses she dons whenever Mikey is involved.”

I nod and go towards the bedroom to collect my cell phone. As I come back, I hear, “Hello, this is Brian Kinney and I’d like to cancel the insurance on my Corvette, effective immediately.”