Justin walked through the pristine glass doors that marked the front entrance to MOMA, where he had spent the better part of the afternoon leisurely enjoying the collections, both old and new. It was a luxury he rarely allowed himself these days, but somehow he knew when he woke this morning that he would not be able to resist the pull of the exhibits. Some days he just needed to fuel his creativity before he could tap it to produce the quality of work he and others had come to expect of him.
He decided to stop at a small shoe emporium that had opened just down the street from the museum. He thought perhaps buying a new pair of boots would be a nice end to the relaxing part his outing before he moved on to the business conferences he had planned throughout the rest of the day.
He entered the store, however, and his senses were bombarded with the sights and smells…new leather…designer brands…the latest fashion trends…and suddenly he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. He turned around on a dime and left the shop without a moment’s hesitation. He just couldn’t let his mind go there.
As he turned towards the building that conveniently held the offices of both his agent and his publicist/manager, he was barely aware of either his languid step or the tell-tale hunch of his shoulders. He knew that he still had more than a half hour before his meeting with first one, then the other, but he didn’t really care to stop in any of the other boutiques that would have normally kept him pleasantly occupied during the wait.
He typically enjoyed this time of year, with the brisk air and the temperature neither too cold nor too hot to comfortably walk through the streets of the city that had become home to him.
Home…he tried not to think about that word and all that it had meant to him in the past. There was a time when home meant lying in his lover’s arms, protectively wrapped in his comforting embrace. He couldn’t think of a time since they had parted when he had felt the peace and contentment of that feeling. That seemed like such a long time ago.
He had been feeling more and more melancholy all week, and couldn't quite put his finger on why that was, until he caught a glimpse of the new Hickey Freeman collection in their storefront window as he continued walking down 52nd St. towards his final destination of the day. He tried desperately to push away the thoughts of Brian that the display evoked. He could just picture the brunette’s excitement upon seeing the line set out like that, as well as the epic shopping expedition that would have resulted. He had been thinking a lot about Brian this week.
He hoped that Rachel Epstein, his agent, and Tazlyn, his treasured manager and publicist, had been able to meet earlier in the day so that this set of meetings went more smoothly than the last. Tazlyn was loyal and devoted, and nothing got under her skin more than when she and Rachel butted heads over a show or a commission. While Tazlyn unerringly looked out for Justin’s best interests, they both knew that Rachel’s main concern was the bottom line, and she didn’t really care much about the effect, positive or negative that it would have on Justin’s career, except inasmuch as that career affected her own pocketbook.
The last disagreement had been over the fact that Rachel had been all but ready to throw a very promising and lucrative commission the way of another artist who just happened to be in the office and available, rather than wait for Justin to get back from a long week-end at his beach cottage, a necessary break for him after having just finished two back to back mural commissions that left his hand in pain and uncooperative.
As it turned out, not only was Tazlyn willing to fight for first rights since the person who had ordered the commission had asked personally about whether or not Justin might be available to paint the portrait requested by the client, but the mother of the child whose image was to be captured had threatened to seek a commission elsewhere if she would not be able to obtain a Justin Taylor original as she had hoped.
He had made quite a name for himself, and just as Cynthia was largely responsible for Brian’s success, Tazlyn could be credited with his name and fame being sought after by high end buyers throughout the country.
Thoughts of Cynthia inevitably lead back to thoughts of Brian, and he shook his head as he realized that his melancholia of late was actually another subconscious bout of missing Brian, and that particular ailment almost always resulted in a dry spell with his art that he simply couldn’t afford right now. He had to do something to get his mind back in the game, with two commissions and a solo show looming in front of him.
Still, he allowed himself a moment to ponder whether he ever crossed the other man’s mind. Did Brian ever miss him? Did the older man’s chest ever clench the way his did when he thought about what they had once shared? No, More than likely for Brian it had been ‘out of sight, out of mind’. Especially with all the time that had passed since they last saw each other.
He thought back and could remember absolutely everything about that last moment of what he had mistakenly thought was going to be another glorious day spent with his lover. He was surprised when Brian walked up to him outside of his studio that day, with a look on his face that showed it was going to be anything but.
They’d had a another spat the night before. In fact, it was the same one they had been having for months. Justin wanted to return home to Pittsburgh, home to family, home to Brian. And…Brian wouldn’t hear of it.
He had been standing there talking with that bike guy, Jim…no Tim…that was his name, whiling away the time until his favorite brunette arrived back from the errands he said he had needed to run while in the city visiting Justin. Brian came walking up the street with a scowl on his face, saying, “We need to talk, Justin.”
They had gone into the studio, and with the swiftness and ferocity of an unexpected landmine, his entire world as he knew it was blown into small pieces and scattered all around. “It’s time we face some facts, Justin,” this man he thought he knew began. “We’re beating a dead horse here. I’ve been putting my life on hold for days at time for far too long, what with all the trips I have been making up here to see you. Sure, we always have a great time, but it’s really starting to get old.”
“On top of that, all this talk about you coming back to the Pitts is making my dick soft. We can’t go back, Justin. I think we both always knew that. It’s better that we admit that now, and get on with our lives. Go out there and be the best fucking homosexual you can be, here in New York, and I’ll do the same back in Pittsburgh. I think I can do that now, you taught me how. I just can’t keep doing this,’ waving his hand back and forth between them, ‘anymore.”
He leaned in and kissed Justin on the forehead, leaned his own against it for only a second or two, and with that he got up and walked out the door. Only later did Justin realize that Brian’s errands that morning had been to pack up all his belongings, everything of his that he had ever brought to New York with him, and in the flash of an eye, the love of his life was gone.
Afterward he had kicked himself for pushing so hard to go home. He should have known that Brian wouldn’t want to give up his freedom again. He should have been content with what little they had, but instead he had pushed for more, and pushed Brian away in the process.
Letting Brian go had been the single most painful thing he had ever done…bar none. Not even his recuperation after the bashing could compare to the lingering pain that had nearly been his undoing for the first few years after Brian had left.
It had taken everything he had not to beg the man to reconsider, He wanted nothing more than for Brian to let him show that he could be what the other man needed and still be the best homosexual he could possibly be. That he could make him proud and make him happy.
In the end, though, he just couldn't let himself do that. He couldn’t be that pathetic – even though for a long time afterward, that’s exactly how he felt inside. He had to put what Brian needed above all that, above his own needs, above the pain he thought might be his undoing if he didn’t get a handle on it.
So, he had picked himself up – brushed himself off – and accepted the harsh reality that once again love didn’t mean forever. He’d learned that lesson with his dad who was supposed to always love him no matter what. How silly of him to allow himself to think that love with Brian, of all people, would be any more enduring.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, determined to find a way out of this pensive mood he was in. It served no purpose, and he had so much he needed to do that he really couldn’t spare time on such a useless effort.
He would survive this. He had to. For himself, for his family, but most of all for Brian. He would be successful, and he would find a way to be content, maybe even achieve some level of happiness - that most elusive of all desires...
He decided that a stop at the tiny art supply store he knew was nestled, almost hidden from view, between two high end clothing stores, might be the very thing to provide the necessary distraction. Picking out a few new brushes and some paint colors might, more than anything else, help to get his mind off what he had lost. No use crying over spilt milk. Brian was in the past, and there was nothing he could do about it now.
As he walked into the reception area of the agency building, the secretary greeted him and told him that Rachel would be ready to see him in just a few moments.
As she pushed the button to let Rachel know Justin had arrived, she wondered to herself how someone as good looking and successful as Justin Taylor, not to mention kind and fun loving and sweet, had managed to avoid being snatched up, and why. As she gazed over at him surreptitiously, however, it occurred to her that behind his usual smile and sense of humor there was something in his eyes, a sadness perhaps, that led her to believe it was more than just being a free spirit that kept him single, and wondered if he was as really lonely as he looked at that very moment in time.