“I asked him to marry me.”

“You what?”

“Don’t worry. He turned me down.”

“I didn’t know. … For what it’s worth, I just want you to know that I’m sorry...that I’m not going to be your mother-in-law.”

*****

Late night phone calls are every mother's worst nightmare. Someone telling you that your child has been seriously injured. That they might not make it. That you should get to the hospital right away.

Jennifer Taylor had received two of those calls in her lifetime. Both about her only son. Both of them from Brian Kinney. Fifteen years apart. Worlds apart, really.

The first call came on the night of Justin’s prom. He’d gone to the prom with Daphne. He’d asked Brian, but Brian had told him no -- that he wouldn’t be caught dead in a room full of 18-year-olds. So the last person she expected to hear from that night was Brian. And she definitely didn’t expect to hear his panicked voice on the other end of the line, sounding barely able to speak as he told her that Justin had been attacked and they were in an ambulance on their way to the hospital. He hadn’t sounded like the Brian Kinney she’d met at all.

At the time, she hadn’t been exactly sure what Brian was to Justin. Not really. She suspected this man -- this Brian -- loved her son, although she wondered what on earth a 29-year-old man with a college degree and a career and a baby could possibly have in common with a high school senior.

Then the world came crashing down. And she saw just how much Brian Kinney cared about her son. But she couldn’t push the questions out of her mind. If Brian hadn’t gone to the prom, would Justin have been bashed? Was it Brian’s fault he’d almost died?

She’d fought with herself, caught between the knowledge that Brian had saved Justin’s life and the fact that his presence might have been the cause of the attack. That Brian’s appearance in Justin’s life had been the turning point that transformed her sweet little boy into an out-and-proud young gay man who refused to be shoved back in the closet. There was no denying that Justin had antagonized Chris Hobbs. But had he done that because of Brian’s influence?

There was also no denying that Justin’s quick recovery was due in large part to Brian, because Justin wanted so badly to get out of the hospital so he could see him. Because he didn’t know Brian was visiting him every single night while he slept.

Looking back now, it’s clear how important to one another Brian and Justin already were, way back then. And their bond had only grown stronger over the years.

They’d had their ups and downs and their struggles, sure -- but what relationship doesn’t? The important thing was that they ended up together in the end, because they loved each other. And Jennifer was sure that now would be no different.

She remembered when they’d called off their wedding the first time. When Justin had moved to New York. She’d run into Brian a couple of times after that, and they’d made polite small talk with each other, but that was the extent of their contact. Then, she stopped seeing him altogether. Nothing had changed in her routine -- she still went to the diner for lunch occasionally, mostly to see Debbie, whose presence and support had been invaluable to her over the years since Justin had come out. But something had clearly changed in Brian’s routine. She hoped he was all right, because the times when she had seen him, she’d been able to clearly see the sadness underneath his aloof exterior.

She’d known that Justin missed Brian as well, and she was fairly sure that they still talked regularly on the phone. She remembered hoping that maybe someday they’d be able to work things out so that they could be together again, without either one of them feeling like they were sacrificing their own identity or their own happiness for the other. Although, really, what seemed to be happening was Brian sacrificing his own happiness for Justin.

Brian certainly did love Justin. She’d been sure about that for a while, but Brian sending Justin to New York so he could make all of his dreams come true had proven it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Then, Justin came home for Christmas. She’d dropped him off at Debbie’s on Christmas Eve, knowing that he was nervous about seeing Brian again. She’d assured Justin that everything would be fine, no matter what. And she was right, although things weren’t as simple as she’d assumed. Brian dropped Justin off at her condo later that night, and Jennifer learned just what it was that had been keeping Brian away from his usual Liberty Avenue scene.

She’d been sitting on her sofa, enjoying a glass of wine and a quiet Christmas Eve since Molly was at Craig’s, watching holiday chick flicks on cable, when she saw a pair of headlights drive by slowly and then stop in front of her condo. She leaned forward to look out the window and saw Justin, sitting in a black Mustang with Brian. Apparently Brian had gotten a new car, which surprised Jennifer as well. He’d really had a thing for that Corvette, it seemed, and she wasn’t sure that the Mustang was quite his style, but then again, he’d always been full of surprises.

She saw them kiss, and felt a sense of relief. With some of the things Justin had mentioned to her, she was afraid Brian might have someone new, even though it really would have surprised her if anyone else was able to get to Brian in the way Justin had. From what Debbie had told her, Justin might as well be considered a miracle worker for the way he’d transformed Brian Kinney. The kiss was a brief one, but she still felt like a voyeur, so she turned away from the window quickly, before one of them spotted her.

Not long after that, Justin walked through the front door. Jennifer tried to act nonchalant when she asked how the evening had gone.

The look on Justin’s face when he turned around after hanging up his coat was strange -- not really what Jennifer expected to see from him when he’d just reunited with the man that she was pretty sure was the love of her son’s life, and he’d just kissed him in the car seconds before. She’d expected him to be happy -- excited, even -- but instead, he looked troubled. Conflicted. Like he was trying to reconcile something in his head.

“It was...interesting,” Justin said. He went into the kitchen for a moment, returning to the dimly lit living room with a wine glass, then helping himself to the bottle she had sitting on the coffee table.

“Oh?” Now, she was curious. “I saw Brian dropped you off,” she said. “I was wondering why you hadn’t called me to come pick you up yet.”

“Yeah, sorry. We, uh… He and I had a lot to talk about.”

In the next several minutes, she found out that Brian had been in an accident and was now paralyzed from the waist down. And he’d been that way for six months, without telling Justin about it. She saw why Justin had looked the way he had when he came in -- she was pretty sure that she had the same look on her face right then.

It was hard to imagine -- Brian Kinney, in a wheelchair. And it got even more difficult to imagine when she thought of what she knew about paraplegia, and tried to combine that with what she knew about Brian Kinney. It had to be a really rough time for Brian. But why hadn’t he reached out to Justin before now?

Justin and Brian spent a lot of time together that Christmas, until Justin had to go back to New York. In fact, Justin didn’t spend another night of that visit in her condo past Christmas Eve -- he stayed at Brian’s apartment for the remainder of his trip. She didn’t mind, though. She was happy that they were together. Reconnecting.

Not long after Justin went back to New York, she found out that Brian had surprised him by coming to visit. And not long after that, Justin was talking about Brian’s plans to move to New York. Then, after that, Justin’s plans to move in with Brian. Things were moving quickly.

Given that, she wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when she received a phone call from Justin telling her that he had big news -- that he and Brian were getting married. Finally. She’d been every bit as thrilled for him then as she was two years before, when he’d wordlessly handed her a wedding announcement in an envelope during the open house at Brian’s loft. Maybe even a little bit more so, because she knew that this time it was going to happen. And she knew, from what she’d seen of their relationship over the years, how good they’d be for each other as husbands.

They’d gotten married in Boston, and Brian had surprised Justin by standing during the ceremony. It had been an emotional moment for all of them, but especially for Justin and Brian. Jennifer was fairly sure that what made it the most touching for her, was watching the two of them embrace, leaning on one another for support. Just as they would in life -- and in marriage. It had felt so symbolic, as they began their lives together as married men.

But what she’d seen over the past three months had been a true testament to that unconditional love and support, and Brian and Justin’s commitment to one another.

It all started with the second middle-of-the-night phone call she’d received from Brian. This time, it wasn’t from her teenage son’s older lover -- it was from her son-in-law. Telling her that her son had been seriously injured.

Justin had been driving to Pittsburgh, because he needed to transport paintings for a show at the Sidney Bloom Gallery. Brian was originally supposed to come with him, but plans had changed at the last minute, so Justin was arriving early and Brian would be flying in later. She’d been hoping to see Justin that evening, but he never came. She didn’t think too much of it, though, because she’d talked to him briefly on the phone while he was driving, and he wasn’t sure what time he’d get in or how tired he’d be. It was a long drive, after all. So she’d assumed that he’d gone to the hotel and fallen asleep. But it turned out, he’d never arrived at the hotel at all.

Brian called her at about half past midnight, rousing her out of a sound sleep. The second she saw his name on the screen, her stomach dropped. There was no good reason he’d be calling her at this time of night. Her hands had been shaking as she answered the call, halfway not wanting to hear what Brian had to say, but knowing that she had to answer. Because the only reason he’d be calling was if one of them needed her, and it was urgent.

She heard Brian’s panicked voice on the other end of the line, just as she had all those years ago on the night of Justin’s prom. He’d sounded frantic and on the verge of tears, and he wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. He’d told her he was packing up to head to the airport right then, but it turned out that he didn’t make it to Pittsburgh until the following afternoon. In the meantime, Jennifer had rushed to the hospital, only to be told that she couldn’t see Justin because he’d been admitted to the intensive care unit, and they had strict visiting hours. All she had to hold onto was a label that described his condition -- “critical” -- and some information that had been delivered to her by a resident whose bedside manner needed some serious work. The resident had told her, matter-of-factly, that Justin was in a medically induced coma because he had swelling on the brain. They were monitoring the pressure in his skull to see if he’d need surgery to relieve it. The sense of deja vu Jennifer had felt in that moment was overwhelming, and she’d collapsed into tears right there in the waiting room. Thinking of baseball bats and ruined prom nights and months of nightmares and not really knowing who her son was anymore. She hoped that history wasn’t about to repeat itself. But, it was.

The next month was a blur of doctors and phone calls and family and friends and trying to make sure everything was taken care of at the office at the same time. One thing she’d learned in more than a decade as a real estate agent was that her work was never done. Brian felt the same way about owning an advertising agency, and over the years they’d bonded and become friends as much as they were mother and son.

Their bond had become even stronger during the month that Justin spent recovering in Pittsburgh before they’d headed home to New York. She’d hated to see them leave, but knew that they had to. New York was their home. Where they’d built their life together.

She missed them, though.

She talked to Brian regularly, and Justin too, but often wished that the news where Justin was concerned would be more positive. It sounded like he was in a lot of pain, and he was really struggling with the lack of function in his hand. She kept praying for a miracle, just like she had the first time -- that Justin would regain the use of his hand, so he could do what he loved: make art. But that didn’t seem to be happening this time.

It made her hurt for both of them, because she could hear in Justin’s voice how badly he wanted to draw or paint or just do something, and she could hear in Brian’s voice how badly he wanted Justin to be able to do that, so he could feel happy again. It seemed like that was all Brian had ever wanted, really -- for Justin to be happy.

The Brian Kinney she knew -- the one she’d known for a decade a half now -- was far removed from the one she’d heard talked about on Liberty Avenue all those years ago.

This Brian was really good for her son. And she knew that together, they would get through this challenge, just like they had every other challenge they’d dealt with over the years.

The eight restored paintings that had been a part of the show at the gallery had been sitting in Jennifer’s guest bedroom for nearly two months, after she’d picked them up at Brian’s request. Justin had never even seen the show in person, and hadn’t yet seen the work Lindsay had done to repair them, other than in pictures. She’d done a fantastic job, if Jen did say so herself.

Jennifer still wondered what had happened to the other two paintings of the ten Justin and Brian had selected for the show. Had they been stolen? Had they been thrown farther than the rest and were still lying on the side of the highway somewhere? Surely they wouldn’t be, because Jennifer knew Brian had sent a couple of the security officers who worked for Kinnetik out there to thoroughly comb the area, and they’d come up empty-handed. By now, it was probably a moot point, which was unfortunate, because she knew firsthand how much work and how much passion Justin put into each one of his paintings.

And she knew that passion was the reason it was so hard for him to not be able to paint.

The last few times she’d talked to Brian, it hadn’t sounded like Justin was doing too well. Brian said he hardly ever left the apartment, except to go to therapy. He still had physical and occupational therapy twice a week, and he’d recently added appointments with a psychologist, after Brian came home one day and found Justin sweeping up pieces of glass from where he’d broken their bathroom mirror in a fit of rage and frustration. Hearing about that had been all too familiar, as she clearly remembered Justin screaming at her and shoving her into the bedpost as he destroyed his bedroom in her townhouse fifteen years before, partially over art, and partially over Brian. She was relieved that he hadn’t hurt himself when he broke the mirror, and that he’d made a decision to go to therapy. She just hoped it was helping.

As Jennifer loaded the last of the paintings into her SUV, she was grateful that Justin had Brian. They truly were perfect for each other, and she was glad that they’d found their way back to one another, even if the road to get there was a bit rough.

She and Brian had been planning this trip for weeks -- she’d bring the paintings back to Justin’s studio, and spend a week with Brian and Justin in New York. She was really looking forward to seeing them, and that made the long drive go by much more quickly.

She’d left Pittsburgh early in the morning, in hopes that she would be able to avoid rush hour in New York. But when she got there, it seemed like rush hour might be all day long. Eventually, she made it to Brian and Justin’s apartment building in Chelsea -- a modern high-rise with lots of glass that seemed so perfectly in line with Brian’s taste in real estate that she’d always thought it was no wonder he’d chosen to live here when he’d moved to New York a decade ago. She pulled up into the loading zone and called Brian on her cell phone. He was supposed to be alone in the apartment -- they’d purposely timed her arrival so that Justin would be out at a doctor’s appointment, since the entire visit was a surprise for him.

They planned to take the paintings straight to Justin’s studio and arrange them into a display for him, so he could finally see what they’d looked like in the show. Of course, they were both also secretly hoping that being back in his studio again might help inspire Justin to at least try putting brush to canvas again, no matter how he did it.

Sitting there by the curb, waiting, Jennifer realized just how tired she was. She hadn’t slept well the night before, thanks to a variety of different nightmares, all of which started with her imagining that her phone was ringing, and Brian was calling to deliver bad news about Justin.

A few minutes later, Brian emerged from the double doors in the center of the building’s first floor facade. He opened the door and started the process of getting himself and his chair into the car. Jennifer -- having learned a long time ago not to offer any sort of assistance with any of it unless she was asked -- had already surreptitiously moved her seat forward a bit to make it easier. She watched the traffic on the busy city street -- a seemingly never ending stream of cars and taxi cabs -- in her side mirror as Brian got himself settled, waiting until he’d closed the door before she greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Bet you don’t miss having to do that twice every time you go somewhere, huh?” she said, smiling.

“Not really,” he laughed. “When I lived there, I was used to it, but this last time I think I realized it’s a pain in the ass. And also that I’m fairly sure I’m getting arthritis in my left shoulder.”

“Welcome to your mid-forties.”

“Don’t remind me. Your son already takes every opportunity he can to remind me how old I am. Considering I never thought I’d make it past 30, I think I’m holding up pretty well. So, how was your drive?”

“Long,” she said, yawning. “And boring. Pennsylvania is a long state. I knew there was a reason I preferred flying.”

“Tell me about it. And I was asleep for half of the drive when we did it.”

“You look good,” Jennifer said as she looked over her shoulder and pulled out into a gap in the traffic.

“I always look good,” Brian grinned, looking out the window. “There’s a reason I buy more face cream than most middle-aged women.”

“Vanity, thy name is Brian Kinney,” she laughed. “You know what I meant.”

Brian exhaled and started chewing his thumbnail, still watching the cityscape go by. “Being home helped. Still not sure I have less stress now than I did then. It’s just different. We’ve moved from recovery, to trying to navigate a loss. And fuck, I know that’s hard. I’ve been there. It’s really fucking hard. But he helped me so much with that, and I feel like he’s not willing to let me help him. Sometimes it seems like we’re making progress -- really good progress -- but other times, it feels like we’re still back at the start.”

Jennifer yawned again, suddenly feeling like she could barely hold her eyes open.

“He says that seeing the therapist is helping, but if he wasn’t telling me that, I wouldn’t know,” Brian said as he turned to face Jennifer again. “Are you alright? You’ve yawned twice in less than a minute. I mean, I’d offer to drive, but…”

“I’m fine,” she sighed. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.” Jennifer paused and took a deep breath before deciding to continue. “I’ve been having these...dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?”

“Dreams where Justin gets hurt.”

“Christ, this is so fucked up.” Brian shook his head.

Jennifer stopped behind a taxi at the next red light and turned to look at Brian, confused. “What?”

“All three of us are having those kinds of dreams. Well, I know I have, and I think Justin is too, although he doesn’t usually wake up like he used to...back when… You know.”

Jennifer nodded and took a deep breath. She definitely did know, and she remembered all too well how helpless she’d felt when Justin would wake up screaming and crying, then push her away when she tried to comfort him. But if he wasn’t waking up, then maybe they weren’t as bad this time. She prayed they weren’t, for both his sake as well as Brian’s.

“Hell, mine were so bad I have to be medicated to fucking sleep through the night,” Brian said quietly as he turned to look out the window again and resumed chewing his thumbnail. Jennifer wondered if what he’d just said had been intended for her to hear at all.

She watched him carefully for a moment, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“When did that start?” She was asking because she was genuinely curious, although she was a little bit afraid of the answer.

“A few days after the accident.” Brian still wasn’t looking at her. “The day Michael and I went to see the car.”

Jennifer didn’t like hearing that it had been going on that long -- right under her nose, to boot -- but she wasn’t surprised that Brian had kept it to himself. That was just who he was -- if you wanted to know something that made him look vulnerable, you were probably going to have to pry it out of him. He’d gotten a little bit better about that in recent years, particularly with her, but he was still Brian Kinney, and he didn’t share his feelings very freely.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Jennifer asked, after a few long seconds of silence. “I could have helped you.”

Brian shrugged and continued looking out the window. “There wasn’t anything you could do.”

“We could have at least talked about it.”

“I didn’t want to talk about it. Still don’t. Not really.” He exhaled loudly. “Forget I said anything.”

Jennifer pulled into a parking space near the building that housed Justin’s studio and put the SUV in park. “Brian…” she started, still trying to decide what else to say.

“I said forget it. I’m fine.” Brian ran a hand over his mouth, then reached for the door handle and pushed the car door open, effectively ending their conversation as he started retrieving the pieces of his wheelchair from the back seat. He made quick work of it, then transferred himself to it. He backed up, pushed the door shut, and waited for her to get out so they could unload the paintings and take them upstairs.

Jennifer didn’t particularly want the conversation to be over, but she knew Brian well enough to be fully aware that she didn’t have a choice in the matter. She was, however, starting to put the pieces together -- thinking about how stressed out Brian had been back in Pittsburgh, and how sick he’d gotten. He hadn’t looked like he was sleeping at all, but she hadn’t wanted to be yet another person telling him how tired he looked, so she hadn’t mentioned anything, aside from asking him if he was feeling alright when she thought he felt feverish. Other than that, she’d let it go, all the while reminding herself that Brian was a grown man and he could take care of himself, even though she'd wanted really badly to mother him because he looked so completely and totally spent. Now that she knew even just a little bit more about what had been going on while Justin was in the hospital, she wished there was something she could have said to prompt Brian to talk to her, so she could have done something -- anything -- to help him. Or at least made sure he wasn’t spending every single night alone. But, hindsight is always 20/20.

Neither of them said anything while they unloaded some of the canvases from the back of her vehicle. Jennifer eyed Brian as inconspicuously as she could, trying to read him. She’d gotten better at that over the years, but Brian’s poker face was well-practiced, and he was giving nothing away today.

“You can stop looking at me like that,” he said, pushing the button for the elevator after they got inside the lobby.

“Like what?”

“That concerned, mama bear look you’re giving me right now.” He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, don’t worry about me. I’m talking to someone too. I’m not sure how much it’s helping, since it’s sort of feeling like we’re going in circles, but trust me, I’m talking about my feelings plenty. More than I’d like to. Christ, is somebody holding this thing on another fucking floor?” Brian pushed the button again, more forcefully this time.

“It hasn’t been that long. And I’m getting in the elevator with you, so don’t act like you’re getting away from me when it gets here.” She paused and sighed. “I just want you to know you can talk to me. If you want to.”

“I know I can, mom.”

“Okay. I’ll stop mothering you now.” Jennifer gave him a small smile as the elevator doors slid open.

“Thank you,” Brian said, pushing himself over the threshold and turning around to face the elevator door again, his tongue planted firmly in his cheek. “I promise to let you know if and when I need mothering.”

They exited the elevator on the sixth floor and Brian led her down a long hallway to a nondescript door at the very end. He pulled his keys out of his coat pocket and picked through them, finally selecting one and sticking it in the lock.

When he turned the door handle and pushed the door open, both of them were taken aback by what they saw.

Justin’s studio had been ransacked, as best as Jennifer could tell. Brian pushed his chair slowly into the room, turning his head from side to side, seemingly taking in the scene, before turning around and looking back at the door, confusion clear on his face.

“I’m pretty sure that door was locked,” he said slowly, pointing toward the still-open door. “Did someone break in?” He turned again and she watched as his gaze fell on a pile of painted canvases in one corner. He furrowed his brow. “But why wouldn’t they steal those?”

Brian moved to the other side of the studio and gently set down the paintings he’d been transporting in his lap, propping them against the wall. Jennifer did the same with the canvases she’d been carrying, as they both continued surveying the scene. There were tubes of paint and brushes in piles on the floor. Canvases, both painted and unpainted, were scattered across the tile. Easels were turned over, and shreds of paper littered the floor in random spots throughout the room.

Jennifer slowly realized she had seen this exact scene before, when Justin had destroyed his bedroom and several drawings that he hadn’t known at that point if he’d ever be able to reproduce. She was just about to say something to that effect when Brian apparently came to the same conclusion -- Justin had been here.

“Fuck,” he said. “This has to be Justin’s doing. I had no idea he came down here. When did he do this?” He bent over to pick up one of the canvases and leaned it upright against the wall, then ran a hand nervously through his hair. “I wish he would have told me.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t want you to know.”

“You’re probably right. But I still wish he would have. I’ve been feeling for a while like there are things he’s not telling me, and this proves it. Goddamn it, I feel like I don’t know what to do or say anymore. I’m just fucking lost.”

“I know. Me too. But unfortunately, we can’t make him open up. Hopefully he’s at least opening up when he’s at therapy. Time will tell.”

“Let’s hope. I didn’t know what to think when I came home and found him picking up pieces of our bathroom mirror. He was just so fucking...calm. Too calm. He said he was okay, but he didn’t look okay.”

Brian continued picking up the canvases that were scattered on the floor, while Jennifer righted the empty easels that sat on their sides.

“You know, the last time he did this, it was the start of a turning point for him,” Jennifer said. “Maybe this will be too.”

“Christ, I hope so. I’m just at a loss for what to do. I feel like I’ve done everything I can, short of shoving the brush in his hand and ordering him to paint. And we both know how well that would go over.”

Once Brian had picked up all of the canvases, he moved on to the paints and brushes, while Jennifer picked up the paper and sketchbooks. She was just about finished when she heard Brian mutter, “Shit.”

“What?” she said as she turned toward him, where she saw him sitting in front of the only painting and easel that hadn’t been turned over, holding a small knife in his hand.

“I can’t even think about what he was going to do with this,” Brian said, shaking his head slightly. “It was the only thing over here, so I don’t think it just fell here by accident. I hope it was nothing, but…” He paused and took a breath. “I don’t want to think about what could have happened. Especially since I don’t know when he was here. What state of mind he was in. But, like I said… He says the therapy is helping, but I’m not so sure.”

Jennifer didn’t want to entertain the thought of what could have happened with that knife either. Even when Justin had been so frustrated and despondent after he was bashed, he had never considered hurting himself. At least, not that she knew of. And she hoped that she would know if he had -- she was his mother, after all.

“What matters is that he didn’t do anything though, right?” she said, coming over to Brian and putting an arm around his shoulders, hoping it would be reassuring.

“Yeah,” Brian said softly. “I just hope that whatever he was feeling when he left this on the floor, he isn’t feeling anymore.”

Jennifer did too.

She and Brian finished straightening up the studio, then brought the rest of the paintings upstairs and arranged their makeshift display using the photos on Brian’s phone to get them in the order Lindsay had selected for the show, since Justin hadn’t been able to choose for himself. Jennifer had been looking forward to Justin seeing the restored paintings, but now she wondered what she was going to be walking into when she brought Justin back here. Would she be making a mistake that would undo any progress he’d been making? Or would she be able to say the right thing to encourage him to start being creative again? She was hoping for the latter.

They stopped for coffee to-go at a small, local shop across the street from the studio, then drove back to the garage where Brian had been storing his car since they’d moved to the city. In all of the chaos after Justin’s accident, Brian had forgotten to cancel the automatic renewal on his lease, so he had a space for at least another year, even though he had no car. While it didn’t make financial sense for Brian, it worked out for Jennifer’s visit.

The garage was a few blocks from their apartment, so they made their way back there on the sidewalk, anticipating that Justin should be home now. Brian had told Justin that he’d be in a meeting with a client this afternoon. So Justin would be expecting Brian’s arrival, but he wouldn’t be expecting Jennifer. She hoped it would be a good surprise.

It was, indeed. Brian went in first, and when Justin turned his attention from the television to greet him, his eyes immediately focused on Jennifer. He blinked a few times, like he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Mom?” he said.

“In the flesh.” Jennifer held her arms out, and Justin was soon in them as they shared a long embrace. He buried his face in her shoulder, and for a moment, she felt like he was a little kid again.

Justin looked up at her as they let go. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprising you.”

“No, I mean… Why?”

“Do I really need a reason?” She laughed a little and tousled his hair. “I missed you, honey. And this one,” she said, gesturing toward Brian, who looked like he was enjoying this little reunion, “thought it might be a good idea too.”

“How long have you been planning this?” Justin asked, looking back and forth between Jennifer and Brian.

“Long enough,” Brian said. “Now, you two catch up. I’m going to order us some dinner.”

Brian ordered takeout from a nearby Italian restaurant -- a huge portion of spaghetti and meatballs for Justin, and some lighter fare for himself and Jennifer, although he kept sneaking bites of Justin’s pasta.

They spent a quiet evening in the apartment, just talking about life. It was nice, and Jennifer wished she could do it more often.

The next night, Justin surprised both Jennifer and Brian when he came home from his therapy appointment and said he wanted to go out. Brian and Jennifer exchanged a look, but Brian just shrugged.

The first place Justin took them to was a shop that Jennifer had been to a couple of times before on previous visits.

“I remembered you really liked the hand-blown glass paperweights here,” Justin said as he held the door open for her and Brian.

Justin followed her around the store, excitedly pointing out things he thought she might like. Jennifer could see Brian out of the corner of her eye, just watching them, a faint smile on his face.

Ultimately, they ended up at a restaurant and bar that doubled as a performance venue -- another place they’d been to before, that Justin had remembered she liked. It seemed like more and more was coming back to him, and Jennifer was thankful for that.

It was an intimate space, with small tables arranged around a stage, and there were always interesting things to be seen and heard. That night’s performance was part comedy show, part musical. And it was very, very loud, with a lot of bright lights.

After a while, Jennifer could tell that Justin wasn’t feeling well, although he was trying to hide it. She glanced at Brian, who was eyeing Justin carefully. A few minutes later, during the intermission, Justin excused himself to go to the bathroom.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Jennifer asked Brian quietly, once Justin was out of earshot.

“No,” Brian said, as he held up a hand to get their server’s attention. “And he’s not going to say anything about it, so I’m taking the lead here. He won’t like it, but that’s okay. He’s going to be spending all day tomorrow in bed if we stay.”

By the time Justin returned to the table, Brian had paid the check, and they were both ready to go.

But when Justin saw the signed receipt on the table, he immediately objected.

“We’re not leaving because of me,” he said. “I’m fine. Let’s stay for the rest of the show.”

Brian started to speak, but Jennifer interrupted him.

“I’m still pretty tired from my trip,” she said. “I just don’t think I can stay awake for the second half.”

It took a little more convincing, but eventually, she and Brian got Justin to agree to go home. When they got down into the subway, the platform was packed with people, all of whom had apparently been waiting on the same train they needed. Justin looked dead on his feet, so they went ahead and squeezed themselves into the full train car, just so they wouldn’t have to wait for the next train.

Justin leaned tiredly against one of the poles in the center of the car, with Jennifer on one side of him and Brian on the other. After a couple of stops, Brian took Justin’s hand and pulled him down into his lap, where he ended up nearly falling asleep on Brian’s shoulder before they made it to their stop.

Jennifer didn’t think she’d ever get tired of seeing the visual manifestation of just how much Brian loved Justin. How much they cared for each other. Brian had always let his actions speak more loudly than his words, and even though he’d gotten much better with the words over the last ten years, his actions were still what sent the message through loud and clear.

By the time they got back to the apartment, it was obvious that Justin was exhausted. He sat in the living room with Jennifer and Brian for a while, fighting to stay awake, until Brian finally convinced him to take a hot shower and go to bed, even though it was barely 9 p.m.

“He’s still sleeping a lot,” Brian said, shortly after they heard the shower turn on. “At this point, I’m not sure if it’s brain injury or depression, or both. And I know how exhausting chronic pain is, so hell, it could be that too.”

“Is that still an issue for you? You haven’t mentioned anything recently.”

Brian scoffed. “That’s because it’s not worth mentioning. Not for me. It’s always there, and it’s always going to be. I’m used to it. I try not to think about it most of the time. But it’s there. And spending a month and a half sleeping in a hotel bed definitely didn’t do me any favors.”

“Have you thought about buying a house in Pittsburgh?” Jennifer knew her question was going to sound completely out-of-the-blue, but she'd been thinking about it for a while, and now seemed like as good a time as any to bring it up.

“Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“I meant for the future.”

“I’m hoping to not be spending an extended time there again anytime soon.” Brian sighed and took a sip of the bourbon he’d poured himself a few minutes after they got home. “No offense. I just… I need to be done with the Pitts for a while. The last thing I need there is a house.”

“I get it. And I’m not talking about moving back or staying for months at a time. I was just thinking… I got a new listing in Michael and Ben’s neighborhood a few days ago. It would give you someplace to stay when you’re in town for business or just visiting. More comfortable than a hotel, and you’d have everything you needed. It’s single story, and the rooms are fairly large. You could renovate it to be exactly what you want. You could even make it into an investment property doing short term rentals online. And maybe I could see you both more often…” Jennifer let her voice trail off as she winked at Brian.

“Jesus, Michael would shit a brick if I ever bought a house in his neighborhood,” Brian laughed. “I’d never hear the end of it. I can see the headline in the papers now: Brian Kinney Becomes Stepford Fag.”

“Need I remind you that you and Justin are married and monogamous?”

“That doesn’t mean I have to buy a house in the suburbs and adopt two-point-five kids and a dog.”

“Just something to think about.” She smiled and took another sip of her wine. “If you change your mind, I know a good real estate agent.”

“I’m sure you do. Say, how did your television ad work out? I saw the finished product, but I haven’t heard anything else about it.”

“Pretty well, I think. Not that I ever had any doubt.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It’s easy to be confident when you have such a talented son-in-law,” Jennifer said. “I’m lucky that both of my sons are talented.”

“Now if only we could get one of them to stop doubting himself long enough to actually try something.”

Jennifer raised her eyebrow at Brian and gestured toward the bedroom. She’d heard the shower turn off a while ago, but she wasn’t sure if Justin would be asleep yet. “Should we…?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s out. He could sleep through a damn hurricane now,” Brian said, shaking his head. “If he’s already asleep when I come to bed, he doesn’t even wake up when I do. And me getting myself into bed isn’t exactly inconspicuous.” He chuckled and turned up his glass to drain the last of his bourbon, then set the empty glass on the end table. “Anyhow, I know he’s a lot better than he was, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t want to sound like I’m not. But I feel stuck. And I think he does too.”

“Maybe. I know he felt that way before.”

“Yeah, I know he did. But that time, things were different. He got unstuck when he started getting more function back in his hand. Even though he could only draw for fifteen minutes at a time, he could still draw. I’m just not sure what’s going to get him unstuck this time.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think either one of us can find it for him,” Jennifer sighed. “He has to find it for himself.”

“Adam was telling me that the art teacher at his school is retiring at the end of the school year. He thinks Justin would be perfect, and I do too -- you should see him with their girls. He’s a natural. But right now, he just doesn’t have the confidence in himself to believe he could do it. He won’t even agree to come back as a sub for a day or two right now. We just keep waiting for the right time to bring it up, when he might say yes. But I don’t know when that time would be. It’s starting to feel like never. I know it’s his decision, but I really want him to do it. I think if he would just take the damn jump, he’d feel a lot better about so many things, because he’d see he could do it. But how do I get him to do that?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think we just have to keep trying.”

The next day, Jennifer figured she might as well do just that, and take Justin to his studio so she could surprise him with the restored paintings from his show and make her attempt at encouraging him to paint again. He tried to talk her out of going at first, but eventually agreed to it, although he was quiet on the subway and seemed a bit nervous. Given the mess she and Brian had walked into a few days ago, Jennifer guessed that he was anticipating having to explain the mess, especially since he didn’t know they’d already been there, seen it, and cleaned it up.

When they got there and he unlocked the door, Jennifer was holding her breath, hoping that his reaction to the paintings would be a positive one.

“Wait,” he said, looking around the room, where everything had been put back in order by her and Brian. “Did you…”

Jennifer nodded and put her arm around him.

“We took care of it, sweetheart.”

A few seconds of silence passed before Justin spoke again.

“When I did that, I was…” he paused and took a breath. “I don’t know. I just felt...mad. I didn’t know what to do. It just...happened. I felt like I couldn't stop.”

“I know, honey.” She pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay to be mad. Anybody would be mad.” When she released him, she gently turned him toward the paintings. “I had an ulterior motive for my trip,” she said. “I know you never got to see them in the show, so I thought you’d like to see them here. I went down to the show a couple of times. You should have heard the things people were saying about you. Good things. Really good.”

“Too bad all of that’s over now.” Justin pulled away from her and walked toward the wall where the paintings were displayed. He ran the fingers of his left hand over the edge of one of them -- a boldly colored piece with a lot of intricate detail.

“It doesn’t have to be over.”

Justin took a deep breath before responding. “I can’t do this anymore. There’s no way I’d be able to.”

“Now, that doesn’t sound like the Justin Taylor I know. The one who never let anybody tell him no.”

“He’s gone,” Justin said softly. “I think maybe he died back in December.”

“Honey…” Jennifer started to put her arm around Justin, but he shrugged her off.

“I’ve been trying to make changes… Do some things, get out more... But it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. I don’t feel like I’m the same person I was before.”

“Who would be, sweetheart? But that doesn’t mean you can’t get through this. You’ve always been able to do anything you wanted. Anything you put your mind to. Why should now be any different?”

“I’m not that person anymore. I’m not who I was. I can’t be. I made my living painting, and now I can’t do that anymore. Even if I can figure out a way to do it, I won’t be able to do what I did before. What people expect. What they want when they buy something from me.”

“It’s not all about the money, Justin. Whether or not something sells. It’s about whether or not you love it. You’re getting too caught up in the business aspect. You’ve always loved art. I’ve seen how your face lights up when you’re creating something -- how you just get lost in it. That’s why you wanted to be an artist, remember?”

Jennifer watched Justin as he slowly made his way down the line, touching each canvas in succession.

“I can see how much you still love it. That you want to do it,” she continued. “All that matters is that you’re doing something you love -- making something you love. And if you love it, chances are someone else will too. If it sells, great. If it doesn’t, who cares? If it made you feel good when you were creating it, then that’s all that matters.”

“She did a great job with the restoration, didn’t she?” Justin said, his fingers resting on the last canvas. Jennifer knew he was trying to change the subject.

“She did. But she had some pretty great raw material to work with. And I know you still have more where that came from, even if it might look a little different. Why don’t we go across the street and get a cup of coffee? I could go for one of those lattes like I had the other day when Brian and I were here.”

Justin laughed. “He loves that place. Sometimes I swear he comes down here claiming he wanted to see me, but it was really just a convenient excuse to have a white mocha.”

“It seems like you’re remembering more,” Jennifer said as they locked up the studio and stepped into the elevator.

“I am. It comes back in flashes. I’ll remember one small thing that seems really weird and random, but then it fits into something bigger a lot of the time, or something that I had a vague sense of and couldn’t quite put my finger on.” He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. “But our wedding is still just...gone. And that sucks.”

“The prom was gone once too, though.”

“I know. But I had to spend more time in a coma to get that back, apparently, so I’ll pass on that. I keep hoping that maybe someday, I’ll have a dream or something, and I’ll wake up and it’ll be there.”

“Maybe it will. You never know.”

They crossed the street and went into the shop, ordering their drinks and choosing a cozy table in what looked to be a quiet corner.

“You know, there have been a lot of famous artists with disabilities,” Jennifer said, stirring her latte and trying to act nonchalant, even though she knew Justin would see right through her and know exactly what she was trying to do.

“Mom,” he said, sounding exasperated already.

“Just hear me out. Michelangelo had limited hand function, and look at all he created -- all of those beautiful sculptures and paintings that we wouldn’t have, if he had just given up.”

“I took art history in college, mom,” Justin grumbled.

“Then you should already know all of this, right? May I continue?”

Justin rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“Francisco Goya didn’t have full use of his right arm.”

“You know that was because he had syphilis, right?” Justin laughed.

“That’s not the point. His style changed after he got sick, but he kept painting, and people still loved his work. Matisse did the same thing -- after he ended up in a wheelchair, with limited mobility, he found something else he could do to keep making art. He viewed it as an opportunity to re-align his priorities and to create something that said exactly what he wanted to say.”

“Are you done with your motivational speech now?”

“No. My point is, they all created because they loved it. Not because they thought it would sell. Art was their passion. It’s yours too, sweetheart.” Jennifer paused and laid her hand over Justin’s. “Look, I know you’re afraid. And you know what? I bet every single one of them was too at some point. It’s human. But they didn’t let fear rule their lives. Your fear is the only thing that won’t let you move on. Don’t let it do that to you. You’re bigger than that. You always have been. Now shouldn’t be any different. Okay, I’m done now.”

“Thank god,” Justin said, slumping back in his chair.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

Justin sighed and stirred his tea. “Okay,” he said, his lips turning up into the tiniest smile. “Only if you promise me that you’ll stop researching disabled artists throughout history.”

“Guilty as charged,” Jennifer laughed. “But I do think I put together a compelling case, if I do say so myself.”

“Maybe your second calling is to be a lawyer.”

“No thanks. Real estate is hard enough, without trying to go to law school in your late fifties.”

They finished their drinks with lighter conversation, then killed some time walking around the neighborhood before heading back to the apartment, where they found Brian in the kitchen, making dinner.

“Boy, you’ve really domesticated him, haven’t you?” Jennifer said, elbowing Justin gently in the ribs. “I can remember when you used to do all of the cooking yourself, just to keep him from ordering takeout.”

“I’ll have you know, I learned this all on my own,” Brian said, with mock indignance. “When I moved to the suburbs and all of the restaurants were chains and they all sucked and none of them delivered.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Justin said. “I’m pretty sure all he knew how to do back then was make omelets, grill chicken, and microwave vegetables.”

“I survived, didn’t I?” Brian reached up and stirred what was in the pot, which smelled suspiciously like one Debbie Novotny’s chicken soup.

“Is that what I think it is?” Jen asked, coming closer and peering into the pot.

Brian smiled almost shyly and said, “I thought maybe we could all use a little comfort food.”

The next few days were uneventful, just the three of them doing things as a family, hitting up some of Jennifer’s favorite spots in the city while performing the delicate balance of making sure Justin didn’t get overwhelmed, without him knowing that she and Brian were keeping a close eye on him.

On the last day before she was planning to head back to Pittsburgh, they all headed down to SoHo to check out a contemporary art museum Jennifer had heard about but had never been to. While Jennifer enjoyed seeing the art, what she really loved was watching her son as he made his way through the rooms. How his expression lightened the moment they stepped through the door. How he looked like he wanted to reach out and touch everything. How he seemed to be looking at certain pieces more critically, as if he was trying to figure out how he could do something like that.

Maybe there was hope, after all.

They went to a tapas restaurant down the street for dinner and had a few cocktails, before going over to a nearby park. Jennifer had asked Brian to bring his camera so he could take a few headshots of her to use on her business cards, and they both thought the green space would be a perfect backdrop. Brian had resisted a little at first, saying she should just hire a professional photographer, but she’d ultimately been able to sweet-talk him into doing it for her.

Once they got started taking photos, however, the alcohol they’d had at dinner seemed to take over, and the serious photoshoot turned a little bit lighter, with Brian tossing her the flat cap he’d been wearing and telling her to put it on and strike a pose. A few photos later, Justin had joined in the fun, posing with her, and not long after that, Brian was setting the timer on the camera and they were having an impromptu family photo session.

They could care less what anyone thought of them as they posed together, making funny faces, sticking their tongues out, and giving each other bunny ears. They finished it out with one last shot -- Jennifer in the middle, with her arms around both of her boys, all three of them smiling.

Their laughter and smiles kept on long after they’d stopped snapping photos, as they chatted on the subway about what a great time they’d had -- not just that night, but all week long. It really had been a great trip. Jennifer was so glad she’d decided to come, even though she knew it was going to make her miss her boys even more after she went back home.

When they got back to the apartment, Jennifer stepped into the kitchen to get herself a drink, watching as Brian and Justin settled themselves on the sofa. Brian took Justin’s hand, threading their fingers together as Justin laid his head on Brian’s shoulder.

“I had fun tonight,” Justin said softly.

“It was a good night.”

“I can’t wait to see the pictures,” Justin said as he nestled himself in closer to Brian’s side, then tilted his head upward and smiled a little. “We’re making new memories, huh?”

“Yeah, Sunshine,” Brian said, closing his eyes and nodding as he took a breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were glistening. He tightened his grip around Justin’s shoulder and returned his smile. “We are.”