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Everyone gets locked in at Kinnetik.

Overnight

LaVieEnRose



Daphne makes fun of me for it, but I don't really like staying in the apartment alone when she's not around. It's not that I won't do it—of course I'll do it—but given the choice, yeah, I'd rather crash at a friend's house the nights she stays at the hospital or when she goes to visit her mom or whatever. The place just feels kind of haunted when she's gone, like she's there but she isn't, and some weird hidden part of me goes crazy and thinks maybe she's never coming home. I guess it's still hard for me to fully buy that a girl like her really picked me. She's a doctor, and a genius, and the motivated kind of person who goes to conferences across the country to learn how to be a better doctor and a genius, which is why I'd been crashing at Brian's house for the past two nights. Daphne was coming home tonight, though, so I woke up Friday morning in Brian's guest room and stretched and felt happy.


Evan and Brian were over in the kitchen when I came down, drinking coffee while Evan sat at the counter and ate breakfast and Brian flipped through the newspaper. Evan must have said something out loud, because Brian laughed. It’s so weird that half the people I know just walk around talking when I’m not around. Daphne and Brian have lunch and don’t sign at all! Wild.


You know this is going to eat me alive, Brian said.


Evan shrugged and said something in English.


A hint. Anything.


I told you they're famous.


Jesus, there are half a billion fucking famous people.


That seems false.


How do I even know this is someone interesting? You think I don't see famous people every day? I'm not that easy to impress. You have no idea the campaigns I get.


I...literally design your campaigns.


Shut up. Brian nodded to me and handed me a cup of coffee.


What's going on? I said.


Someone famous is at Evan's NA meetings and he won't tell me who.


They're not that famous, Evan said.


If you recognized them, they're famous. Brian's always teasing Evan about being uncultured.


Evan snapped his fingers next to his ear and then said, Say something, to Brian.


I never know what to say when you ask me that, Brian simcommed.


Yeah, I can't hear shit.


That's not generally one of your skills, love.


Do we have spare batteries?


Check the drawer by the microwave. You need a new aid, you know. That one keeps crapping out.


Insurance doesn't want to cover it.


Brian rolled his eyes. I don't know why you say these things to me. He turned to me while Evan rooted through the drawer. How'd you sleep?


Great. I bet it's some Broadway star. At the meetings.


He doesn't know Broadway stars.


Former child actor, then.


Yeah, that narrows it down.


Don't you need to get going? I said.


Yeah, soon. Come by the office this afternoon, we'll get lunch.


Okay.


Justin came out of the bedroom then, rubbing his eyes, his hair a mess. He looked really bad, even by Justin-in-the-morning standards, just really sweaty and deathly pale.


Brian tilted his head to the side, a small smile on his face. Good morning.


Hey. I just threw up, Justin said. I was the nearest to him, and he took my arm and held on for support when he got close enough. I slipped my arm around his waist.


Brian said, Why'd you do that?


Just for fun, I guess.


How do you feel now? Brian said, while Evan filled a glass of water.


Lightheaded.


Seizure, then?


Yeah, I think so.


Been a while since you had a weird seizure, Brian said. You were due for one.


Justin sipped the water, the glass shaking dangerously. Lucky me.


Go get dressed, Brian said.


Justin made puppy-dog eyes at him.


Brian covered his eyes with one hand. Your powers are useless here, he signed with the other. 


Justin said something out loud, and Brian sighed and dropped his hand off his face.


Big day today, Brian said. I can't.


I can stay here with Derek.


Brian shook his head. Not after a seizure like that. When you look like that.


Brian.


Justin, he echoed. You're stuck with me. Get over it and go get dressed.


Justin sighed, let go of me, and headed back to his room. Brian and Evan exchanged a quick look after he was gone, and then Evan got out some cereal while Brian counted out pills for Justin.


Neither of them were looking at me, so I said "Is he okay?" out loud.


Brian looked up. Sorry, what? My voicing sucks, it's fine.


Justin, is he okay?


Brian shrugged. He'll live. He's not great.


I don't mind staying here and keeping an eye on him.


No, he's mine today. Thanks, Brian said, and Evan gave me a look like I shouldn't press it.


We sat down and ate some breakfast and Brian asked if Evan was going to a meeting during his lunch break or after work today, and we chatted a little about how that was going. I was kind of raised in an ivory tower when it comes to things like this, and I guess the image I had of a drug addict was a lot more...I don't know, ragged and sinister. Evan's just my sweet, smiley friend, Justin's boyfriend, Brian's...well. Brian's.


Brian kissed his cheek while they were clearing the table and said, small, Can you see what's taking him so long? and Evan nodded and ducked out of the kitchen. Brian briefly balanced a plate on my head and then gave me a little swat on the side of my head.


"Hey," I said.


He shrugged.


Still want me to come for lunch? I said.


A guy's gotta eat.


Evan came out a few minutes later, his hand on a groggy Justin. He fell back asleep, Evan said.


Brian kissed Justin's forehead. Of course you did. You don't feel warm.


Can we take the car? Justin said.


Yeah, we can.


I had a meeting at the school in the morning, so they dropped me off at the subway station on their way to Kinnetik and I had an uneventful morning and I dropped by Brian's office around noon. Emily was doing video relay with a client, and she signed Wait, for me when I started to head into Brian's office. That girl has too much power.


Client dropped in unexpectedly, Emily said. He had to pull something together fast.


They just came in and demanded a presentation?


They were in town and thought they'd check on the progress of their campaign. She rolled her eyes. What are you doing here, anyway? Isn't Daphne home today? Shouldn't you be showering her with affection and cunnilingus?


Not until this evening. I'm supposed to have lunch with the boss, but I guess that won't be for a while. I stretched. I guess I'll go see what Evan's doing.


His job, probably.


You're in a mood.


She gestured to the phone. My marketing director is in a mood. I'm in a reaction to that mood.


Where's Justin?


In there with Brian and the pop-ins. They do it all the time, Brian just tells people to ignore him.


Brian does love telling people to ignore him.


She typed something quickly. Indeed.


How's he doing? I said.


He's okay.


He looked like hell this morning.


I mean, he doesn't look amazing, but I think he's okay. I haven't really gotten to talk to him, I've been fucking swamped. And he's been sleeping every time I went in.


I hung out in the waiting room and watched people come and go, talking of Michelangelo, etc. It was kind of fun seeing Emily do her job for the first five minutes, since I know her in more of the no-clothes-and-tequila context than the business casual one, but there's only so long that watching someone type can really capture your attention, so mostly I just played games on my phone until the clients finally left Brian's office. He poked his head out and waved me in.


Sorry, he said. I could not get rid of them. He'd gotten some new furniture for the office since I was last here. Looked nice.


Justin, as reported, looked okay. He was leafing through through a file of Brian's, and while Brian and I discussed where to order lunch from—we were going to go out, but Brian smoothly suggested delivery and I knew it was because he wanted to make sure Justin ate something—he cut in every so often with a question or a suggestion for the campaign he was looking at. By the time we'd settled on Indian, Justin was already sketching something. Brian came and looked over his shoulder while he was on the phone.


See how this— Justin started, and Brian cut him off with a nod.


Good, he said. That's very good.


I sat on the couch with Justin and Brian rolled around in his desk chair while we waited for the food to arrive. We talked mostly about Evan and how he was doing. Brian was really worried about him, I could tell, and Justin was mostly quiet but would chime in once in a while with a reassurance—he's okay, he's fine, he's fine.


I want to get him back in school, Brian said.


Justin barely looked up from his sketch. We've talked about this.


You talked about this and I listened to you because you're very frail and I feel bad for you.


Ah, that does sound like our dynamic.


Exactly.


He's not interested.


He's so smart and he's so lost so much of the time, Brian said. You don't notice his face when you start signing fast. We get him in some actual ASL classes, some English classes, whatever. He'll thrive.


He doesn't want to do it.


He's just scared.


He just had a relapse, Justin said. Should we really be scaring him right now?


I just...


He's okay, Justin said. You don't have to fix this.


Brian sulked and sat back in his chair. Fuck you. I never have to fix anything.


Justin gave him a look.


It's a calling, Brian said. Not a compulsion.


I don't think you can ignore callings, either.


Brian gestured towards his ears and said, Like you would know, and Justin laughed. Brian turned to me, smirking a little, and said, Do you think I'm a controlling bastard?


It's part of your charm, I said.


You should have seen him when I met him, Justin said. It was like pulling teeth to get him to admit he gave a shit about anyone but himself. And now look at him. Fretting over our boyfriend's education.


I am not fretting.


Sure.


Fine, let his potential go untapped. See if I care.


He's not untapped. He's a brilliant artist, Justin said.


Yeah, that's true. He was quiet for a minute, then turned to me. What do you think of Evan's signing?


It's not bad.


It's not as good as Justin's.


It's hard to compare someone else's signing to Justin's because his is adaptive, with his hand. He doesn't sign some things the textbook way. It's easy to understand once you get used to it. Like an accent. Still. No, it's not.


And it's not as good as mine.


Brian has an accent too, just from being hearing. Unless someone's a CODA—Child of Deaf Adult, so signing from birth—you can always tell they're hearing. Even the best interpreters. It's mostly the way they move their mouths. Still. No.


He was practically born Deaf, Brian says. He should be leaving us in the dust.


But you guys took a ton of classes.


Exactly my point, Brian said. He paused. Actually I want to take another class.


Justin rolled his eyes. You're fluent.


I could be more fluent. You say shit sometimes I don't catch.


That's just because you're old, not because you're hearing, Justin said, and Brian flicked him off. At least you know that sign, Justin said.


They were being cute, but the whole thing made me a little sad. I knew Brian felt insecure about being hearing. Daphne does too, even though her signing is beyond amazing for how long she's been learning. I don't think Molly does, but her signing's also really good, and she probably has never felt insecure about anything in her life, knowing her. It's just not all that common for hearing people to make the effort to come into our spaces, and on the rare occasion we do we're trained like puppies to be so grateful that we accommodate all sorts of terrible signing. So I don't know why Brian is convinced it's such a hardship for us to slow down the smallest bit and ax some of our weirder slang for him. But I know how I feel when I'm trying to keep up with Daphne's hearing friends. Which is why I avoid them as much as possible.


It's pretty amazing that Brian willingly surrounds himself with Deaf people.


The food came soon after that, and Brian nagged Justin about eating and stole naan off my plate after saying he didn't want any, just normal lunchtime with Brian stuff. Evan and Emily were eating lunch out at Emily's desk, and I could see them cracking up and showing each other stuff on Emily's laptop. Brian said they were loud, but he was smiling. He smiled through most of lunch, actually—not in like an over-the-top way or anything like that, he just seemed really relaxed. Justin too, even though his energy was obviously slipping away and I could tell he was in pain. But neither of them talked about it, and it didn't seem like they were avoiding it, it was just like...they didn't need to talk about it. They're so used to this stuff, and maybe that should have made me sad, but right then I felt happy for them. Maybe they made it look easy because it was easy.


So everything was kind of normal and nice and then I tried to head home and the front doors wouldn't open.


I went to Emily's desk. Let me out.


She was back to work, typing so fast it was hard to believe she was actually forming words. She raised an eyebrow at me.


Your doors are locked.


That's weird.


Yeah, so...unlock them.


Do I look like a custodian? Ask the building manager.


Okay, who's the—


Arielle, she fingerspelled, and then waved me off and got back to work as if that were anywhere near a sufficient amount of information.


Still, with the Kinnetik staff's basic ASL and my expert pointing and miming, I eventually found my way to Arielle's office. She led me back to the front door, where she tried all sorts of keys and codes and cursing, by the look of it, and eventually came to the same conclusion I had. The door was locked.


I went back to Brian's office. He was sitting on the couch next to Justin, leaning towards him and asking him something. I stomped on the floor.


Brian looked up. If you stay here any longer I'm going to have to start paying you. I don't want to.


I think we're locked in.


What the fuck are you talking about?


Arielle is—


Brian showed me her sign name.


Arielle—thanks—is on the phone with your security people right now. The doors won't open. Is there a back door or something?


They're all on the same system, Justin said.


Then...let's hope there's not a fire?


Brian cursed and stormed out of the office. I looked at Justin, expecting us to trade “Oh Brian, such a drama queen” expressions, but Justin had his “I mean business” face on instead, and he followed Brian out of the office. Okay. I tagged along.


I couldn't really follow what was going on, though. Brian was signing some, asides to Emily telling her to call this person and this person and this person, but mostly he was barking orders at the people huddled up around them. Justin kept his eyes intently on Brian, and I mostly watched Emily.


Evan came up from art at one point, his messenger bag across his chest. What's going on? he asked me.


I think we're stuck in here.


That's...not great.


No. My fiancees's waiting for me.


He gave me a look.


And some of us have meds we need to take, I added.


Yeah, there you go.


Would you be okay? If we couldn't get home?


Evan laughed a little. For how long?


Um... I watched Brian yell into the phone. I'm thinking it might be a little.


I have dialysis tomorrow...


I looked at Justin, who was speaking out loud to someone I didn't know. I said, What about Justin?


Justin.... Evan pulled his lip into his mouth. We need to not be stuck in here.


After a few minutes of rushing around, Brian beckoned Evan over. Can you interpret? he asked.


Yeah, of course, he said, and he started speaking while Brian signed and told us all, essentially, that there was some kind of electrical problem at the security company that handled the locks, and they wouldn't be able to fix it until tomorrow morning.


So we were trapped here for the night.


Justin gave Brian's elbow a tug and Brian just said, I know, without really looking at him.


Brian fielded questions for a while, but I could tell from the way his hands were shaking when he signed—just a little, but I know Brian—that he was starting to unravel. Sure enough, after a little while he did this sign that's hard to translate into English, but it's literally pushing the conversation to the side, and turned to Emily and said, Can you take this? and she took his place, signing while Evan interpreted, with Justin jumping in to clarify every so often. Brian went back to his office, and I followed.


I let him slam things around his desk for a while before I said, You okay?


I have sixteen kids in daycare, two pregnant women, a diabetic, a kidney patient... He looked away and ran his hand over his mouth.


And Justin, I said gently.


He sighed heavily.


Will he be okay?


Who the fuck knows. Stuff can go sideways in a minute with him.


But they could at home, too.


He gave me a look like I was an idiot. And then I could take my little delicate flower to the hospital.


Okay true. I came over and put my hand around his wrist, briefly. It's just one night. Will he be okay for one night?


He shrugged. As long as he doesn't need oxygen.


Does he usually?


Sometimes. You never know.


What if he needs it and he doesn't get it? I said, but Brian just shook his head.


I called Daphne and explained the situation to her, and she was the understanding angel we know and love. There was a good amount of food in the staff room and Emily keeps a lot of granola bars and stuff at her desk, so while it's not like we got a full dinner or anything, there was at least stuff to snack on. Brian was all anxious about Justin eating enough, which I thought was just him being his anxious self until Evan mentioned casually that hunger is a seizure trigger. I probably should have known that.


Everyone was kind of just hanging out, playing card games and listening to music and showing each other YouTube videos, and the kids were having a great time sprinting around the place, but Justin was definitely starting to fade. In all the excitement I'd kind of forgotten what bad shape he'd been in this morning, and he'd probably been able to power through the day knowing he could go home and collapse after. Now he was pale and shaky as hell, and we all kept telling him to sit down.


And I think it was Brian's attitude about the whole thing, the frantic energy with which he kept sequestering Justin away, that made me realize that every single one of us stuck here was accidentally intruding on something private. Justin did not want to be seen like this. He works so hard to keep up a front when there are people around. And now there were all these people, practically strangers, who kept asking Brian if his partner was okay. I kept catching Brian and Evan in hallways or empty conference rooms, signing small to each other—is he okay, he's okay, is he still okay, he doesn't look okay.


When it got late, people headed to their offices or the staff room or the conference room floors to sleep, and Brian grabbed me and Emily and Jane and Justin and Evan and coralled us into his office. Nobody really seemed surprised by that. Brian loves his Deaf people. He turned the lamp on on his desk so we'd have enough to light to sign and said, Justin needs the couch, okay?


We all agreed, obviously, except for, of course, Justin. Emily should take it.


Sexist, Emily said. I can sleep on the floor. You can't.


I can, it's not like I'll die.


Brian said, Ah, yes, our standard of care, not dying. This isn't a negotiation. You'll be screaming in pain tomorrow and I don't want to deal with it. Lie down, you look like shit.


Justin did, reluctantly, and Brian and I got blankets and pillows out of his closet and made makeshift beds on the floor. It was cold down there, and Brian pulled me into him for warmth, his other arm protectively around Evan. Justin was shifting around a lot on the couch, and eventually Brian kicked it and told him to cut it the fuck out and go to sleep.


The next thing I remember was sometime in the very early morning, maybe two or three, and I woke up a little and adjusted myself on the floor. Evan was still there, sprawled out next to me, but Brian wasn't, and I lifted my head a little and saw him sitting on the couch. Justin had his feet planted on the floor and one hand pressed against his chest, and I could see his shoulders moving while he breathed. Brian had a hand on his back, and they were just sitting there, not talking, not even moving, absolutely still except for Justin's breathing.


And I thought about Brian earlier, who couldn't even say what would happen if Justin couldn't get oxygen. Like he couldn't bear to put it into words. And I looked at them now and thought...how even could you? How do you take a moment like this, Brian watching Justin struggle and there's nothing he can do, and put it into words?


Maybe they don't talk about it because it isn't weighing on them. Maybe they don't talk about it because...not because it's too horrible or anything like that, but just too private, too intimate, to speak about. I think it's possible that being in a relationship when you're sick, or when the other person is sick, is something that they haven't figured out the words for. Because what I saw that night between Brian and Justin was so goddamn heavy that I don't know how you'd even begin to distill it.


There are some things you just can't share, even when it's two o'clock in the morning and you're staring right at them.


**


Justin looked like warmed-over shit in the morning, but none of us really looked our best after our little sleepover party, so he blended in at least a little. They unlocked the doors first thing, and Brian deposited Justin on a bench outside the front door before he went to get the car. Are you coming with? he asked me.


No, I'll walk to the subway. I looked at Justin. Are you guys going to be okay?


Brian shrugged one shoulder. Used to it, he said, small, and I felt like a door was being cracked open.


I really do think you're a superhero, I said. Just in case you ever forget.


I'm a spectator.


Sure.


He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue in his cheek. Thanks, Dad.


I punched his shoulder. Take good care of him.


I will.


I kissed his cheek, and Justin's, and Evan's, and then started the walk towards the subway. Twenty minutes and I'd be with Daphne. And I was going to ask her some questions about seizure triggers and how to help someone who needs to be on oxygen.

 

For now the sun was beating down on me, and I was in love, and I was part of something really, really big.

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