Back and Forth

Dartmouth

Justin heard his cell phone ring, but he wasn't sure he wanted to answer it.  He had made the decision to cut himself off from everyone and everything. He was going to live his solitary life and survive.  That was the best he could hope for.

"Hello," he finally answered, when the phone refused to stop ringing.

"Honey, it's Mom."

"Hi, Mom," Justin replied.

"How are you?" Jennifer asked.

"I'm fine."

"How are your courses?"

"Fine."

"Um … Are you enjoying yourself at Dartmouth?  You like it all right, don't you?"

"Sure."  Justin almost laughed out loud.  Now he understood why Brian used that word when he didn't want to commit to anything.  It was another non-emotional thing that Brian had shown him. He could put it to good use now.

"Justin," his mother said, bringing his attention back to the phone call.  "I want you to tell me what's going on."

"What do you mean?"  Justin wondered if his father had told her about what had happened.

"I talked to Brian and he's worried about you."

"Oh."  Justin mulled this over.  Why would Brian be worried?  He had sent him away and told him he would be all right.

"Is that all you have to say?" his mother asked, getting exasperated with his lack of communication.

"Why are you and Brian talking?  You never liked him," Justin said.

"He called me after he came to see you.  He thinks you should come back to Pittsburgh."

"I don't care what he thinks.  He pushed me away, and I'm staying away.  Don't mention his name to me anymore."

"Sure, Honey," Jennifer said.  "You're sure you're all right?"

"Yes."

"Okay then, I'll let you go.  Call me if you need anything or if you want to talk."

"Sure," and he hung up.

Justin thought about his mother's words.  What did he need? He needed something to live for, something to get excited about, something to desire and have passion for.  But he wasn't going to get any of those things from his mother. He wasn't going to get them from his father, from Dartmouth or from anywhere else.  He wasn't allowed to have passion or desire. They were no longer a part of his life.

He wondered why Brian had bothered to call his mother.  He knew they didn't like each other. Brian was too controlling.  He needed to let this go, just like he had let him go at the Rage party.

Pittsburgh

Brian's phone rang.  He grabbed it immediately.  "Hello," he said.

"Brian, it's Jennifer.  I talked to Justin."

"Good.  What did he say?"

"Not much of anything.  He said he's fine and his schoolwork is okay.  I didn't hear anything to worry about."

Brian wanted to scream at her, ask her if she was really listening or just hearing what she wanted to hear.  "Did you think he sounded like himself?" Brian asked.

"He … he sounded a little subdued.  He's got a lot of new stuff to deal with."

"Jennifer, he's not subdued.  He's depressed!"

"Oh, I don't think so.  He sounded … fine." She used the word Justin had repeated to her several times.

Brian knew he was getting nowhere fast.  "Thanks for calling him," he said.

"No problem.  I … I'm sure he'll be fine.  He's getting on with his life," she said, with the obvious meaning that implied

"Getting on with his life without me," Brian made sure to emphasize.  He hung up. There was no point in continuing. Jennifer didn't want to face what Justin was going through.  She was hoping that he was fine, and that he would start a new life away from Brian. He wasn't going to get any help from that source.  He sighed and leaned back against the arm of the couch.

He was absolutely sure that Justin was miserable, but he was equally sure that the boy would never admit it.  He had made his proverbial bed, and he was going to lie in it. The only problem was that Brian felt responsible for the situation that Justin found himself in.  Brian had pushed him out, not to get rid of him, but to give him new experiences that would make him want to come back. Instead, Justin had begun to doubt his own worth.  He thought nobody wanted him, except his prick of a father. He thought in some fucked up way that he deserved what had happened to him.

"I've got to come up with another plan," Brian said to himself.  "There must be a way to get through to him." If only he could figure out what it was.

Dartmouth

Justin was still thinking about his mother's phone call.  He hoped he had convinced her that he was fine. Then she would leave him alone.  Everybody needed to leave him alone.

He flopped down on the bed.  He should probably go to the library and do some more work on the economics assignment.  He couldn't think of a worse way to spend a Sunday afternoon, but that was the new reality of his life.  He had a lot more of these Sunday afternoons to look forward to, to dread.

He made himself get up off the bed.  It would be easier to just go to sleep and forget about everything.  He forced himself to go to the desk and find the notes he had started on the economics assignment.  As he rifled through the clutter on his desk, his eyes kept returning to his sketchbook. Finally he picked it up and flipped through it.  Little pieces of his life came to mind as he looked at each sketch.

Without conscious thought his fingers reached for a pencil.  He flipped past a few more sketches to a blank page. He sank down on the bed, stuck the pillows behind his back, and started to draw.

A couple of hours later, he smiled and surveyed his work.  It was Brian standing beside his Jeep, just as Justin had seen him two nights ago.  He gently touched Brian's face, smudging the pencil marks to get just the right shading on Brian's chiseled jaw.  This was the only way he would ever see Brian from now on. He had that image emblazoned into his brain, but he would never see the real thing again.

He closed his sketchbook and sighed.  He had closed that chapter of his life.  He wouldn't draw Brian again. What would be the point?