Looks like her flight landed. Just waiting by baggage claim now.

Molly was arriving on a Wednesday for a long weekend visit. On the surface, she was here to tour local colleges as she was entering her senior year and had to start thinking of these things. In reality, it was Craig’s month of having custody of her for the summer and I think both Molly and Craig were eager to cut it short. If it meant that she spent time with his faggot son and his faggot son’s faggot lover, that ranked lower on the hierarchy of things Craig cared about compared with taking his sullen teenage daughter from his first marriage on vacation with his new wife who was about half Jennifer’s age and had about a quarter of Jennifer’s sophistication and intelligence, from what I could piece together from Jennifer, Molly, and Debbie.

Still time to make it out alive. Leave her, I’m sure she’ll survive just fine on her charm and good looks.

What charm?

Good point.  

I assumed Justin found Molly okay because I didn’t hear from him after that. When I got home that evening, I smelled burgers on the grill and suddenly had an armful of bikini-clad blonde teenager, who had coming running from the pool area through the sliding doors, and a noseful of that distinct combination of cocoa butter, coconut oil, and a hint of jasmine that is the perfume of summer.

“Briannnnnn!” Molly squealed.

I untangled my limbs from hers and tried to look at her sternly and she gazed up at me and batted her eyelashes. This chipper adoring persona was incongruous with her dark eyeliner and the  purple streaks in her hair and I was half-convinced she did it just to drive me nuts. She followed me around as I put away my briefcase, toed off my shoes, and poured myself a drink. It felt very familiar. I swirled my drink and paused and leaned over and sniffed at Molly. “That’s not Banana Boat, is it? Because - “

“No, because - “

“Justin’s allergic,” we said simultaneously and she grinned wider and I glared. Hives everywhere his blessedly-small speedo didn’t cover made for a very ruined beach vacation a few years ago. I was not risking that again. Molly’s grin turned into a smirk and she flip-flopped back outside and picked up a frozen drink that was some disgusting color of pink and was decorated with all sorts of umbrellas and flowers and began sipping through a twisty straw. I stuck my head outside and nodded to Justin, who waved his spatula at me.

“Hey is that…?”

Molly sighed, “Don’t worry, it non-alcoholic. I already got the lecture from Justin.”

“Lecture? Look I don’t give a fuck if you’re drinking. Just not the good stuff and if you’re gonna puke, please do it in the toilet and clean up after yourself.” Molly’s eyes widened and she turned around toward Justin who was glaring daggers at me. “Or whatever Justin told you the rules of the house are.” Justin relaxed into a smile and Molly slammed her drink down and flopped into one of the patio chairs, arms crossed, and muttering to herself about when Justin was her age. I pointed at her. “No, we are not doing this. One Taylor will respect me in my home and the ship has sailed on that one.” I gestured to Justin who waved his spatula again with a huge grin on his face. “In fact it’s his home too. So whatever he told you the rules are, they are. He’s more of an adult than I’ll ever be anyway.” And with that I turned and went inside to change out of my work clothes.

The next day Justin was taking Molly to tour UCLA and USC. I thought her tendency toward dramatics and dark clothes were better suited to a small liberal arts school but she informed me she intended to do art restoration and needed to be at school with a strong chemistry department as well as a strong art history department and in a big city where she could obtain museum-based internships. Much like her brother, her appearance belied one hell of a brain.

I had a dinner meeting with some biomedical tech start-up that desperately wanted Kinnetik to do their marketing. I had been at Ryder during the dot com bubble and subsequent burst and it hadn’t affected us as a Pittsburgh-based company but it did impact many of the bigger fish in our pond, so to speak. I had, so far, resisted being swept up in this new start-up gold rush and intended to keep it that way. However, no reason that the folks at this unicorn couldn’t buy me a fancy ass dinner before I told them, thanks but no fucking way. When I got home, Justin and Molly had demolished a pizza and wanted to watch a movie. I brewed some coffee while, by some miracle, they decided on something with relatively little bloodshed and no tears.

We sprawled around the living room and were eating unlawful amounts of popcorn. I had my laptop open and one eye on my email and the other on the movie; I wasn’t expecting anything important but those Taylors are the definition of give an inch and now there were two of them. I had to keep whatever advantage I could by at least pretending to be disinterested. Justin was sitting on a cushion on the floor in front of the couch, painting Molly’s toenails with some glittery polish. “Glitter toes,” Molly informed me, deadly serious.

Justin held her foot still and had the tip of his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. I glanced back to my email. Like I said, I was in self-preservation mode, and I heard him exclaim, “Shit!” I glanced up to see him sticking the brush back into the bottle and Molly pulling her foot up to her face to survey the damage. I shook my head to rid myself of the thought that flexibility was clearly a inherited trait, while Justin began shaking out his hand and circling his wrist. “Sorry Mol, give me a minute.”

Molly huffed a sigh and crossed her arms and she could have been the poster child for pouting teenager. I closed my laptop and put it to the side and reached down for Justin’s hand to massage it briefly and then grabbed the bottle of polish. Molly glanced at me and shifted so her feet were in my lap and Justin held his mug of coffee to his wrist.  

Later that night, as I was cleaning up in the kitchen, I heard Molly ask, “Justin is that why you’re studying animation not painting and drawing?”

“Is what why?” Justin was perplexed.

“Your hand,” she said quietly.

“Oh, Mol, no. I’ve always wanted to be an animator.” I smiled to myself and remembered back when I couldn’t even remember his name, it struck me how assured Justin had been of himself and where he was going. And for all the world has tried to rip that confidence and self-assurance from his grasp, it fucking underestimated the power of that kid.

“But you love drawing! And painting! Why wouldn’t you want to do what you love most?” I paused, my hand floating above the garbage disposal switch because I wanted to hear this.

“It’s hard to make a living from drawing.”

“That’s very…dad of you.”  

Justin groaned. “No, no that’s not what I meant. When something is your career, you’re doing it in part, yeah, to make money. And to make money, there’s necessarily this piece that’s about what others think, what will sell. As much as an artist may want to be removed from that...you’re influenced by current trends, the culture you’re in, whether you’re sellable as an artist. I mean if it were purely based on talent, don’t you think there would be more famous artists who are women, people of color?”

“Yeah, so...you’re a white man. And it’s not like there aren’t gay artists! I mean even freaking Michelangelo was gay!”

“Molly, that’s not exactly what I meant. It’s...well, I do love drawing. I love painting. Those are my passions. I don’t want to open them up to all that bullshit. I want that to remain just for me. Private, you know?”

“So animation is….not your passion?”

In my mind’s eye I could clearly see Justin’s face scrunched up, his head tilted, as he tried to find words for what he knows deeply that he feels, with alarming clarity. And thank fuck for that clarity, because we would not all be here for this without it. “Not my passion. I love it, I fucking love it, don’t get me wrong. I love it enough to make a career of it.” Justin said softly. “But I don’t love it in the way that I want to protect if from being influenced by trends and critics. I don’t love it so much that I feel selfish about it.” I folded my lips between my teeth and turned on the garbage disposal.

The next day, Molly somehow managed to drag Justin from Griffith Park to Hollywood Boulevard to Santa Monica Pier all in one afternoon. Before you look that up on some map let me tell you, it’s just not doable. Had it been me, I would have been… well let’s just say I would never under any circumstances go to any of those places, let alone all in one day. But I received regular upbeat dispatches from Justin throughout the day and then, just as I was about to leave work, a question about dinner.

Thai? I was of the belief, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

I was thinking of cooking. Salmon and corn on the cob?

If you’re cooking, I’m not complaining.

:P Really, when does that start?

Never if I don’t get on the road soon and try to miss some of this traffic.

Fine fine fine. Pick up some white wine?

Sure. See you soon.

When I got home, Justin was at the grill again and Molly was setting the table. A similar scene as two days prior unfolded. Justin waved to me with his spatula, I put away my briefcase, and toed off my shoes. I passed Molly on my way to put the wine in the wine fridge and then stood by her while I made myself a drink.

“So dear, how was your day?” I grinned at Molly in a way designed to terrify her.

She just grinned back at me. These Taylor kids were immune to all the “go away and leave me alone” vibes I had been perfecting for well over...let’s just say a long time. She finished setting the forks on the napkins, cloth napkins because Justin had been on environmental kick recently, and leaned against the table, crossed her arms, and gave me an appraising look. “Mom says you’re partners now.”

“We are,” I said with a voice befitting someone sure he was walking into a trap, although what the trap was and where it was located was still uncertain.

“And that’s as close as you can get to married.” She continued.

“I suppose it is. But we didn’t - “ I was set to launch into my Our Partnership Doesn’t Have to Look Like Your Shitty Marriage (™) lecture. Or their shitty marriage. To be fair, Molly might not be straight, I didn’t know.

“And she hopes,” she cut me off, “that you’re going to give her more grandchildren.”

“More?” I had just taken a sip of bourbon and immediately regretted it as I choked and sputtered.

Molly rolled her eyes. “Gus? Your son?”
“Yes, I know who Gus is. I didn’t realize that Jennifer - “

“And JR, too...maybe.” I was speechless. “It’s kinda weird that she would be Gus’s grandmother but not Gus’s sister’s grandmother, huh?”

“I guess.” I was desperately trying to follow this conversation while figuring out what in the hell had just happened. Was happening. “Did...did Lindsay say something?”
“Lindsay?” She sounded confused.

I mimicked her and rolled my eyes. “Gus’s mother? Lindsay?”

“Yeah I know who Lindsay is.”

“Did she say something about wanting more… about wanting another…?” I struggled to articulate my confusion that this kid may know something about whether my son’s mother was angling for him to have a sibling, another sibling, before I did.

“What? No. I don’t know. Not as far as I know.” She shook her head slightly.

I breathed deeply.

“Besides, I thought you had cancer and couldn’t have any more kids?” It was certainly a risk due to the radiation but they had never tested my sperm count after treatment because there had been no need. Or so I thought. “I think mom was talking about Justin.”

Oh. Huh. “Did she say this to Justin?”

Molly rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, you think she said this to me ?”

I tucked away these bits of information - that Jennifer considered Gus her grandchild, that she wanted more grandchildren, and that Justin knew about this and somehow neglected to inform me -  and I had learned of it all in this very domestic scene and I didn’t know what I thought of all of it and only two sips into my drink was not the time to really figure that out. I needed many many more sips to figure out what I thought.

After dinner and wine and stories about Justin and Molly’s day and spoonfuls of ice cream from Justin’s bowl, I changed and headed to the Abbey and left the Taylors to another movie night. When I left, they were in a fit of giggles about the porcelain hand that sat on their Aunt Mary’s dresser to hold her rings and necklaces. They were arguing about whether it was a right or a left hand. It almost made me wish Claire and I had not been pitted against each other since birth. Almost.

When Justin checks the front door lock, it means something different than when I glance at it on my way up to bed at night. What I’m saying is that it was Friday night and I can usually be found at the club on a Friday night, especially since the Energizer Bunny siblings batteries had finally worn down and our plans for Saturday included hanging out by the pool and hanging out in the pool.

After I got home, I dragged Justin from where he was working on a project in the office to the shower to erase the memory of a rather lackluster blowjob I had received and to silence the unasked questions that had been bouncing around the dark corners of my mind all night. As I pushed into him, eliciting a loud moan, I vaguely wondered if two doors - three if you count the glass shower door - a hallway, running water, and music blaring in ipod earbuds was sufficient for Molly to avoid hearing her brother getting fucked. And I wondered if I cared. And then, blissfully, my mind went silent as my attention gave itself over to feeling.

After the shower, Justin leaned against the glass enclosure, allowing himself to air dry, and watched as I lined up the serums, actives, and moisturizers designed to keep my face as gorgeous as ever and I began to apply.

“Something’s on your mind,” Justin smirked.

“Is it?” I answered distracted by applying a dot of eye serum to my ring finger.

“Spill it, Kinney, you can’t hide anything from me.”

“At least it can be said I learn from my mistakes.” I paused and made eye contact with him in the mirror. “Did Jennifer tell you she wants grandchildren?” I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, more grandchildren? Did you know she considers Gus her grandchild?”
“Yes and yes. Does it bother you?” The smirk had disappeared from his face and he was chewing on his thumbnail.

“Does what bother me?” I had been leaning in close to the mirror to examine my pores and stood up straight and turned to face him. His eyes widened slightly.

“That she considers Gus her grandchild?”

“No. Considering that he has three biological grandmothers who may as well be Hecate and her coven, he’s upgrading with Jennifer.” He nodded slightly. “Even if his biological grandmothers weren’t… he could do a lot worse.” He nodded again. I took a deep breathe, turned, and applied another layer to my skin. I turned around again to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me she wants us to start a family?”

He let out a sigh and looked at a point over my shoulder, almost as though he was speaking to himself in the mirror. “I guess I didn’t see any reason to.”

My eyes narrowed. “Excuse me? You didn’t see any reason to? I would think that something like starting a family would be a topic of conversation to have with your fucking partner. Aren’t you the one who’s always talking about open communication?”

His eyes flitted to mine and then back over my shoulder. “I just didn’t want to bring it up unless it was something we were really going to consider. Just because my mom wants me to have a kid doesn’t mean I want to have a kid.”

I froze. “Do you want to have a kid?” I spoke evenly despite the pounding in my chest.

Justin looked me in the eyes and held my gaze, finally. I imagined those eyes on a kid and the way he was biting his lip like he was about to get in trouble, was just, I could just see it for a moment and in that moment I wasn’t sure what I wanted his answer to be.  “I don’t think I want children.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Do you have the receipt for Gus then? Otherwise we’re only going to get store credit.” Justin laughed and looked relieved. “I’m surprised though. You’ve always loved babysitting Gus, JR, and Adeline. I kinda assumed...”

“Yeah I would have assumed too. But as much as I love spending time with them… and Gus, I love being whatever it is I am to Gus… I just don’t know if I want that responsibility full-time.”

“It wouldn’t have to be full-time. I hate to be the one to break it to you, Sunshine, but we would need to get at least one other person involved if you’re going to have a kid.” I paused. “If we were going to have a kid.”

“I don’t think I could do that.”
“Do what? It’s pretty simple, you just aim into the cup when you come.”

Justin huffed. “No, I mean have an arrangement like you have with Melanie and Lindsay. I don’t think I could give up primary custody of my kid.” A look of panic passed over his face and he quickly added. “Not that there’s anything wrong with what you and the girls have.”

“I know. I know you don’t think that.”

“I just think my anxiety… I worry enough about you and Gus and, god, everyone as it is. I trekked all over LA with Molly. I could have given her my jeep and let her go to some of those places on her own - I mean at the very least I could have avoided going to Hollywood Boulevard - but I was terrified that something would happen with the car, or the GPS, or something , and it would be my fault. I can’t imagine how worried and controlling I would be with a kid of my own. And that’s not healthy for anybody, least of all this imaginary kid.” I nodded, not in agreement but understanding, and I knew he knew the difference. “Plus I like my life the way it is now. I love spending time with kids but I am fucking relieved to not be responsible for one of my own. I just don’t think I would enjoy it as much.”

I turned back to the mirror to finish up and Justin hung up our towels. As we got into bed, Justin noted, “I hate that expression.”

“What expression?” I felt like I had accidentally turned two pages in a book.

“‘Start a family.’ What heteronormative bullshit. Like it takes having a child to be a family.” Justin spoke off-handedly as he pulled down the duvet and arranged his pillows in the exact way he likes them, although they usually wind up on the floor beside the bed and his head on my chest by morning, they always start out exactly arranged. I swallowed around a lump in my throat I hadn’t realized was there and leaned over and kissed the breath out of him.