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Justin walked to the visitor's lounge, motioning to his mom that he was ready to leave. They walked to the parking lot and his Mom's car, and Justin placed his bag on the back seat. Jennifer put on her seat belt and watched as Justin did the same. She briefly remembered the car ride not so many years ago where she asked Justin about " this Brian". Her little boy was not so little any more, he was a man. He was traveling to the Big Apple for his very own art show. His lover, a title that she only recently bestowed on Brian, was in the hospital, recovering from an accidental overdose. She was glad that Brian appeared to be recovering from the incident, but she was scared for her son. She had grown to like and accept Brian in Justin's life, but she didn't want her son to go down that road; Justin had dealt with more than most people could handle in their entire lives. If Brian had an addiction problem, it would be just one more thing that Justin would have to deal with. She knew Justin was strong and that his love for Brian was immeasurable, but addicts could be scary. They had to decide if they wanted to change. No amount of therapy or magic pills could fix the problem. She couldn't change Justin or Brian, and she knew that she would support Justin, no matter what his decision. She just hoped that he wasn't throwing away his life and career over a man that was as unpredictable as the rain.

She realized that she'd been thinking almost the whole ride to the airport, and that Justin probably thought something was wrong. She'd better remedy that before they got into another argument. This was a really big event in Justin's young life, and she wanted to enjoy it.

"Justin, I'm so proud of you. I can't wait to see your show," she gushed.

"Mom, I've had other shows." Justin looked out the window as he absently answered.

"I know, but this one is almost a solo one. You must be very excited."

"I am. Sam, my agent, said this show will make me a major name in the art world. Even though it isn't a solo show, the other artist is already well known. Being shown with him is automatic acceptance," Justin explained as his voice got a little excited.

"I didn't know that, honey. That's wonderful! Changing the subject, what are your plans for this weekend?"

Justin turned toward his mother and turned down the radio a little. "When we land, I'll take a bus to Sam's office. I've got a three o'clock appointment with him. After I leave there, I'll go to my apartment and start packing. I need to get a few boxes so I can box up my supplies. I can't afford to buy all new paints and brushes, besides, I really like the set I have here."

"Where are you going to paint in Pittsburgh ?" Jennifer asked innocently, not wanting to delve into the multitude of other questions she was dying to ask. What she really wanted to know if he planned on ever returning to New York. Did he intend to live with Brian? She assumed he would be there while Brian recuperated, but was that a permanent situation? Did he have the money to rent a studio? Was he planning on working when he returned? She knew he had a part time job in New York as a waiter, so he could pay his bills. He couldn't work if he was taking care of Brian. Although, she wasn't sure what type of help Brian would really need. According to Justin, he was already walking with a cane, and he was supposed to be released in a few days. Was Justin's idea of returning to Pittsburgh to help Brian premature? She couldn't ask any of these things, but she hoped that Justin would drop enough information so she could put a together a picture of the situation.

"I'm not sure. I can't paint in the loft, there's not room. Besides, I'm messy when I paint, and Brian would have a fit if I got paint on his white Italian leather couches."

"I see." Jennifer signaled to get off the highway, and pulled into the long term parking lot. She got her parking ticket, parked, and then retrieved her bag from the trunk. They boarded an airport shuttle on the lot, and it took them to the main terminal.

"Thanks for coming, mom," Justin said as they stood in line to check her bag.

"You're welcome." She handed the agent her plane ticket and ID, and they tagged her bag. "Let's stop at the store so I can pick up a magazine. I was so busy planning your sister's party that I forgot to buy something to read on the flight."

"What's so big about this party? It seems like you've been spending more time planning it than most of her other parties." Justin rolled his eyes. "It's just a birthday."

"It's her sixteenth birthday, Justin," Jennifer said as if that explained everything.

"Sixteenth? Okay, so Mollusk can drive now, but other than that, what is the big deal?" He asked as he watched her flip through several magazines, trying to choose one.

She put the magazine down and walked over to the book section of the store. "A girl's sixteenth birthday is a big deal, Justin. While we don't have the big debutante balls that some people do, she is still coming out, and it's a big deal," Jennifer explained. Seeing the puzzled look on Justin's face, she continued. "While Molly isn't ready to look for a husband or take her place in society as an adult, she is old enough now to start thinking about her life. She needs to think about growing up, and her sixteenth birthday is a time for her to meet other young women, and men, who will be influential in those decisions."

Justin shook his head. "I'm glad I'm not a girl. Sheesh. It was bad enough avoiding all those homophobic assholes that I went to school with. I can't imagine being introduced to society leeches and having to deal with them, too."

"Justin," Jennifer admonished. "Keep your voice down."

Justin rolled his eyes, but didn't continue his speech. "Have you found something to read? I want to sleep on the plane. These last few weeks have been really tiring."

"I'm sorry, Justin." Jennifer smiled briefly and took Justin's hand in her own, giving it a squeeze.

"Sorry's bu.." Justin started to say, but caught himself, laughing. "Come on, Mom. We need to get down to the gate."

Jennifer took two books and a magazine to the counter and paid for them. They walked to the security area and passed through the scanners. Justin had his bag checked by hand, carefully watching the guard as he leafed through the bag.

They walked in silence to the gate area, stood in line to get their boarding passes, and sat down to wait. The flight attendants called for boarding about forty five minutes later, and they found their seats on the plane. Justin placed his messenger bag under the seat and retrieved his MP3 player. After the flight attendant gave the safety instructions, Justin grabbed a blanket and pillow from the overhead bin and settled in. When the flight was airborne, he turned on his music and quickly fell asleep.

The flight was uneventful, and they arrived on time, an unusual event. Justin gave his mom a quick kiss and hailed her a taxi.

"I'm staying at the Westin. After your show tomorrow, maybe we can have dinner," Jennifer stated as she waited for the cab.

"I can't make promises Mom, but we'll talk at the show. Good luck finding a present for Molly." He opened the cab door as the yellow cab came to a halt at the curb. He closed the door and watched the cab drive off, then turned toward the subway to take his own ride to his appointment.

_______________________________

Brian looked at the clock above his bed and saw that it was almost lunch time. Jose had come early this morning; therefore he probably would be back right after lunch. That would give him the remainder of the day to work. He wanted to get started on the new campaign for Pool Boy cooler. They were really vile, but as he promised, their market share had increased by 20%, and he had been awarded a second year on the contract. The contract had been renewed every year since. He took out his notes and reviewed the last campaign, trying to come up with a new idea for this year.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. Kinney."

"Come in," he yelled and looked to see who was at the doorway. "And you are?" he snarked as he looked at the middle age man with balding hair. The man, dressed in a button down shirt obviously from somewhere in the mall and a tie that looked out of date by at least five years, held a hospital chart in his hands and he looked through the file, flipping pages as he appeared to scan the information.

"I'm Charles Moray. I'm a therapist, and Karen Trian asked me to meet with you."

"I already told that bitch that I don't have a problem, and I don't need to go to a Chemical Dependency unit. Now why don't you take your psychobabble and your diagnoses and leave me alone. I have work to do."

"I see. Unfortunately, hospital policy requires that I sign off on your paperwork before you are discharged, so you will have to talk to me for a few minutes," Charles explained as he pulled a chair and positioned it opposite Brian.

Brian sighed loudly and put his papers on the table beside him. "Whatever. Talk fast. I'm busy."

"Mr. Kinney, according to your chart, you were brought in from an overdose of alcohol and the street drug, Ketamine. Is that correct?"

"What the fuck? Is this a court of law? I'm not answering a thing until I call my fucking lawyer."

"This is not a court of law and you don't need a lawyer. There are no legal issues here. We're just concerned with your medical and emotional prognosis. Now I repeat: Were you brought into this facility due to an overdose from alcohol and Ketamine?"

"I wasn't awake, but that's what they tell me," Brian said snidely.

Charles flipped to a chart in the front of a yellow tabbed section, and clicked his pen. "Do you drink often?"

"What do you mean, often?" Brian asked as he tried to evade the answer.

Charles looked up at Brian, watching as Brian ran his hand through his hair. "I mean, do you drink every day or every other day?"

Brian thought for a moment and said, "No. I don't drink every day."

Charles marked the answer on the paper and asked the second questions. "When you drink, are you able to stop drinking?"

"Of course! What a stupid question." Brian frowned at the question.

"Do you get drunk when you drink?" Charles watched as Brian took his thumb and forefinger and pressed the bridge of his nose.

"Sometimes."

"What about drugs. Do you use drugs often?"

"I use them sometimes, not every day. And yes, I can stop when I want."

"Have you ever thought you used drugs too much, or drank too much?"

Brian fidgeted in his chair and answered, "No."

Charles continued on to the next question. He kept his voice non-accusatory, and asked the questions as if he were reading the ingredients to a beef stew. "Have you ever tried to stop drinking or using drugs?"

Brian pushed his fingers tighter into his bridge as he answered that question. "No."

"If you were at home, would you have a drink in your hand or be using drugs?"

"Maybe. It's my choice."

"Are there certain situations or times when you drink?" Charles flipped the page to the next section. He recorded Brian's answers, as well as Brian's posture and mannerisms.

"I drink when I go to the bars. Everyone does. What's the big deal?" Brian answered defensively.

"Do you ever drink when you are alone?"

"Occasionally."

"When you drink alone, is there a reason you reach for a drink?"

"I work hard, long hours. When I get home, I want to relax. A drink helps me do that. Lots of people have drinks when they get off work," Brian explained his behavior.

"Do you ever use drugs when you are alone?"

"Yes."

"Why do you use drugs? Do they help you relax, too?"

"Yes."

"Do you ever forget what you've done when you are drinking or using drugs?"

"Sometimes, but it comes back to me in a few hours. I've never forgotten permanently."

Charles saw an expression on Brian's face, but chose not to push. Brian was cooperating a lot more then he thought he would. "Have you ever felt you should cut down on your drinking?"

"No."

"Has your drinking ever caused you problems on the job or with your relationships?"

"No. Just this little side trip to "Chez Allegheny". This put me out of the office for a few weeks, but since I own the business, it's okay." Brian grinned at his little joke.

Charles flipped to the last page of questions. "Do you ever leave work early or come in late because you are drunk or hung over?"

Brain sat up straight and crossed his legs. "Of course not! I have a multi-million dollar business to run. I have to be there."

"Have you ever drank first thing in the morning to steady your nerves, or to get the day started?"

"No-never."

The therapist leaned forward. "I just have a few more questions, Mr. Kinney. You used alcohol and drugs to the point of becoming comatose. That is pretty significant. Do you remember why you used so much that night?"

"No."

"Has your use increased in the last six months?"

"Probably."

"I see. Why do you think that is?"

"Look, I don't need a shrink. I drink. I do drugs. They feel good. I like them. I like sex. If I do it every day, am I addicted to it, too?"

"Do you have sex every day, Mr. Kinney?"

"Of course. I get blown two or three times every day, and I have sex at least once a day, too."

"Does your partner feel comfortable with this much sex? It appears to be a lot."

Brian snorted. "I don't have a partner. Besides, the sex is with different guys. I don't do repeats."

"You have sex with three to four people every day?" Charles asked incredulously.

"Sure. Keeps the boredom away." Brian shrugged his shoulders.

"That's a little excessive."

"What the fuck do you care? I'm not sucking your dick."

"Hasn't there been a young man with you most of your stay? The one who has Power of Attorney and is your Medical Proxy."

"Yeah, Justin."

"How does Justin feel about your drinking, drugs and sex? Does he feel it is excessive?"

"He's known me for almost six years, and I've always been this way."

"Where is Justin now?"

"He's in New York. He's an artist, and has a show this weekend."

"He doesn't live here?"

"No. He moved about a year and a half ago. He lives in New York."

"And your drinking and drug use increased during that time. Do you think there is any connection?"

"Fuck no!"

"Are you sure, Mr. Kinney? It is very common when people experience a loss in their life; they often use drugs and alcohol to fill the void."

"I didn't lose him. He just wasn't here. Now, i've been more than patient, and answered all your fucking questions. I've got a headache that you have not helped. Leave."

"I will be writing up my report, Mr. Kinney. While I do not feel that you are addicted to drugs and alcohol, your level of use is disturbing. I think you should be honest with yourself regarding your increase in use since the time of your partner's relocation. I'm also concerned with the amount of partners you engage in sex with, and the amount of times you have sex. It appears to be excessive as well. I think you have an addictive personality, and should be very careful. I would strongly suggest you talk to a therapist about these issues"

"I told you before. I don't need a fucking therapist and I don't need treatment!" Brian raised his voice very loudly.

Charles made his final notes in the chart and moved the chair back against the wall. He stood up to shake hands with Brian, but Brian did not reach his hand out to reciprocate. Charles left the room, and Brian closed his eyes as he attempted to forget the headache that was quickly forming behind his eyes.

Chapter End Notes:

While I'm not a Chemical Dependency counselor, I have worked with clients that have these issues. These are the typical questions that a counselor would ask someone in determining if theire use is problematic.  For the purpose of the story, I'm not giving Brian a Chemical Dependency diagnosis but in real life, he might definitely be in the yellow zone of concern.

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