Chapter 11 - Celebration.
Justin was glad that he didn’t feel the cold. He didn’t know how Brian had managed to sit around on the frozen ground in the shadows of the old mausoleum for close to an hour now. At least the narrow space between the marble wall and the line of hedges was relatively free of snow. Still, Brian had to be just about frozen solid by this point - it was well below freezing out here. However, Brian seemed to be so captivated by the antics of little Joselito that he didn’t even notice the frigid temperatures.
Justin had been dogging Brian’s steps all day. Not only was it the day before Christmas - a time that, for the Kinney clan, was always stressful and sometimes dangerous - but Justin had also experienced one of his premonitions about Brian first thing this morning. He wasn’t about to leave Brian alone with all these ominous signs. So, when Brian had escaped earlier in the morning from the not-so-joyous holiday atmosphere of the Kinney house, Justin had been there right on his charge’s heels. Brian ignored his tail, just like he always did.
Brian obviously had nowhere in particular he needed to be, since he just wandered down to Liberty Avenue, walking around aimlessly and looking into the brightly lit shop windows all dressed in their holiday finery. Brian just wanted to be out of the house and as far away from his father’s usual pre-holiday rant about how Christmas was just a made-up holiday, invented by rich business owners, solely to bilk working men out of their hard-earned money by convincing them they had to buy tons of useless crap. Brian had heard it all a million times before. He wasn’t about to stick around until later in the day, after Jack had been sufficiently lubricated with alcohol, to start emphasizing his dislike of holidays with his fists.
Brian had eventually wandered into a little corner market, bought himself a cup of hot coffee to hold off the chill, and then been distracted by a counter-top display of Christmas-themed pet toys.
Brian had never bought a Christmas present for anyone in his life - the practice having been forbidden by Jack before Brian had even been born. Even the little holiday crafts he’d made as a child in school had been summarily torn up and thrown away as soon as he brought them home. The closest he ever got to buying someone a present was when he timorously bought Debbie a bouquet of flowers every year on Mother’s Day. So, he had no idea why he was staring at a display of ridiculous green and red cat toys. He knew that it was only a silly waste of money.
Still, Brian hadn’t been by to check on Joselito for more than a week. Ever since he’d stashed the cat’s box in the old cemetery, he’d been trying to bring the little guy some food as often as possible. He figured he was due for another visit. So, he made a slight detour into the pet food section, picked out a small bag of crunchy food and two cans of that wet stinking gloop that the cat seemed to think was wonderful and then, on a whim, grabbed one of the stupid little cat toys that were stuffed with catnip.
Which explained why Justin had been leaning against the marble wall of the mausoleum for almost an hour in the middle of December and watching Brian play with a cat. The little kitten was simply thrilled with all his holiday gifts. He’d scarfed down the disgusting pasty canned food in less than five minutes. Then, the little scamp had crawled up into Brian’s warm lap and proceeded to use the boy as a bathing platform. As soon as all necessary ablutions were complete, the furry little guy had hopped down, and started nosing at the plastic shopping bag waiting by Brian’s feet. Clearly, something inside that bag had grabbed the kitten’s attention as soon as his belly was full. Grumbling about how he must have been crazy for wasting his money, Brian nonetheless dug out the stuffed mouse dressed in ludicrous green trousers and a red and white striped santa hat with a bell on the end. Joselito was instantly delighted by the silly little thing and he stretched out one thin long paw and batted it out of Brian’s hand before it was even all the way out of the packaging.
The kitty proceeded to spend the next half hour, chasing after the thrilling little toy, batting it around, rolling all over it, trying to chew the little bell off and sundry other tomfoolery that had both Brian and Justin giggling uncontrollably. In the end, Jose settled on a game that Brian dubbed ‘The Tabby Retriever Game’ - where Brian would throw the toy, Joselito would run after it and, after batting it around sufficiently to subdue the dangerous little mouse, would then bring it back to his person to have it thrown again. Brian was proud that his little furry buddy seemed to be so damned smart that he could out retrieve any dog. Justin was merely glad to see his boy laughing and having such innocent fun for once in his life. It was probably the first time in his life that Brian had had cause to laugh at anything holiday related.
Eventually, though, little Jose was worn out and decided it was time to curl up on Brian’s thigh for a nap. Brian sat there letting his fingers comb through the soft warm fur, listening to the cat’s happy purring and marvelling at the amount of warmth such a little body could produce. It was truly the most peaceful moment Brian had experienced in a long, long time. When the kitten finally got up, stretched and then daintily padded over to his travel box shelter, curling up into a tight little ball underneath a corner of the old blanket inside, Brian got up himself. He stamped his feet a couple times to get the blood flowing back into his cold stiff extremities, put a couple dollar bills under the big rock on top of the shelter - a small bribe to the elderly cemetery groundskeeper that ensured he wouldn’t move the cat’s home - and then headed out to find some other distraction.
By this time it was late enough in the morning that it wouldn’t be impolite to make an appearance at the Novotny home. Brian trotted over there, trying to warm himself up with a little exercise after sitting still on the cold ground for so long. He made it to the gaudily decorated and gayly lit up little house in less than fifteen minutes, a little out of breath but feeling toasty warm by that point. He couldn’t help scoffing a little bit as he passed by the miniature elves that were lined up along the sidewalk, each of whom bent over and pulled his little elf pants down, mooning all passers-by every five minutes or so. Leave it to Debbie to make even a solemn holiday like Christmas completely tacky.
Knocking lightly on the door but not waiting for permission to enter, Brian let himself in and hung up his coat on the rack in the entranceway. He caught a glimpse of red as Debbie leaned around the wall of the kitchen to see who’d come in, yelling ‘Merry Christmas, Honey’ in her most jovial yawp as soon as she saw Brian. This merry greeting was followed only seconds later by a thunderous cacophony as Michael came charging down the staircase to see who had arrived. Within only moments, Brian found himself enveloped by jolliness as both Deb and Mikey greeted him with repeated hugs, wet and lipsticky kisses and all sorts of mushy, holiday-inspired sentiments.
“Brian. Brian,” Michael clamored to wrest his friend’s sole attention away from his meddlesome mother, eventually dragging Brian off beyond where Debbie could hear. “Brian, guess what? Uncle Vic’s coming to spend the weekend here. Isn’t that great!” Michael spouted his news with enthusiasm, knowing that his friend would be pleased by Vic’s visit since they’d hit it off whenever the older man had been able to stop by before. “I’ve got the whole weekend planned, Brian. I thought that maybe Vic could take us to that new club, Babylon, you know the one with all the hot guys lined up around the block every night? I know Vic will let us go with him. It’ll be so great. We can dance and watch guys and you can ‘get your needs met’,” Michael laughed as he tried to sound like his hero, Brian, using the phrase. “What do you say, Brian. Won’t it be great?”
“Yeah, whatever, Mikey,” Brian rolled his eyes, trying not to completely offend his friend by how lame the other boy sounded. The fact was, however, that Brian had already been to Babylon a number of times on his own and really didn’t need his little pal Mikey’s uncle to get him into any club.
“Michael. Brian. Come in here you two and help me get this feast in the oven so we can eat sometime before New Year’s,” Deb’s demand interrupted Michael’s overly-eager fawning and compulsive planning before it got to be too much for Brian.
As the two boys dawdled off to the kitchen, the aroma of roasting meat, nutmeg, fresh-baked bread and the warmth spreading out through the whole house from the busy kitchen reminded Brian once again why he’d rather be here dealing with Michael’s excessive enthusiasm any day as opposed to the dreary emptiness that awaited him at home. Granted, Jack had been on his best behavior lately and things at the Kinney house had been rather subdued since Brian’s last visit to the hospital, so the youth wasn’t quite as afraid of being there as he usually was at Christmas, but it still wasn’t a fun place. And, while Jack had been keeping his fists to himself, he hadn’t paused lashing out at Brian with his words for even a minute.
Jack’s last outburst had resulted in major repercussions. The fact that someone had called the cops this time meant that Jack wasn’t able to get off scott free and Joanie hadn’t been able to sweep this ‘incident’ under the rug like she normally would have. Brian himself hadn’t witnessed the melee, since he’d been unconscious until waking up in the hospital a day later, but apparently the police had stormed into the Kinney house, found Joan passed out upstairs and Jack starting into his second six-pack of beer while looming over Brian’s huddled and battered form lying on the basement floor.
Brian had been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance while Ma and Pa Kinney were escorted to the local lockup for the night. However, since Brian was seventeen - almost eighteen - and had refused to talk to the police or press assault charges, Joan was released as soon as she had sobered up and Jack was eventually let out as well. Social Services had sent some ineffectual fuck out to talk to the family a couple of times since then, but Brian knew nothing would really change. However, for the moment at least, Jack was scared enough that he limited himself to hitting Brian only with painful words.
So, on top of the fact that the house was dreary and undecorated, Brian felt even more unwelcome at home than usual. He was more than grateful that he could escape, even if for just a few hours, into the bright, happy camaraderie of the Novotny house. Debbie and Michael provided Brian with the emotional shelter he needed. Michael also supplied him with all the flattery and adulation Brian needed to prop up his sometimes almost non-existent self-esteem. All the attention they gave Brian made him feel important for the first time in his weary life and he so desperately needed that life-affirming recognition.
Of course, it meant that Brian had to play his part by allowing the duo to practically suffocate him with their caring and nurturing. Brian allowed Michael’s hero worship and even sometimes encouraged it. If Mikey needed someone to look up to, Brian was more than happy to fill that role, especially if it meant he got to share the safe haven of Debbie’s home. And, most of the time, Brian didn’t mind subjecting himself to Debbie’s mother-hen attitude, either. He rather liked the image Deb had of him as the bad little boy that she was going to take care of and ‘save’. So, Brian acted out his role as the arrogant, worldly, Bad Boy, Michael poured on his adoration and got to live vicariously through his friend, and Debbie was in seventh heaven mothering them all. It was a fucked up dynamic, but it was far better than what awaited Brian at home.
Accordingly, Brian willingly did whatever chores Debbie gave him and nodded in pretend agreement with whatever drivel Michael came up with as they all bustled around to get the holiday dinner ready.
“Get your asses to the table, boys,” Debbie interrupted Michael’s one-sided conversation about the latest ‘Christmas Issue’ for his favorite superhero - Captain Astro - and shepherded them all to the table.
Michael immediately leapt into his chair, grabbed for the serving spoon and the bowl of roasted potatoes and commenced shoveling food onto his plate.
“Michael Charles Novotny,” Deb admonished her mannerless child. “You put that down right now. You can eat after we fucking say ‘Grace’.”
Brian tried to remain suitably solemn until after Debbie got through her ‘Fucking Grace’, although it wasn’t easy, since he’d never heard quite so much cursing during a prayer before and all that kept going through his mind the whole time was how outraged Joanie would be by the experience. After the meal was thoroughly cursed - or blessed, depending on how you looked at it - Debbie let Brian be the first to serve himself a nice big slice of the honey-baked ham and then the feast began in earnest.
~**~**~**~**~
Several hours later Brian made his way back into the Kinney house, juggling his keys, an over-filled bag stuffed with tupperware containers of leftovers, and a huge pile of mail that Debbie had been saving up for him at her house. He was adorned with a brand new, hand-knitted scarf and matching hat, created lovingly by Debbie out of a particularly strange shade of faded lime-green polyester yarn. It was probably the ugliest item of clothing Brian had ever seen, but he absolutely loved it since it was one of the few real Christmas presents he’d ever received. It was even worse than the apricot colored scarf Debbie had given him the year before - and that was staying a lot. Nonetheless, Brian was still smiling as he made his way into the kitchen, depositing the food he’d been forced to bring home in the refrigerator before trying to sneak up the stairs undetected.
“Not so fast, Sonny Boy,” Jack yelled from his throne on the sofa in front of the television in the family room. “You’ve got twenty minutes before the Warden is going to roust all of our asses out of here for church. Get yourself cleaned up and try to find something to wear that doesn’t make you look like a fucking hippie.”
“Damn,” Brian mumbled, his lingering good mood evaporating instantly.
Brian had hoped that this year he wouldn’t be forced to participate in the only holiday tradition that the Kinney family still observed - Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.
In spite of their long time debate over how useless the Catholic Church was, Jack had never succeeded in breaking Joan’s faith. The harder Jack fought her on this issue, the more tenaciously she clung. Even Jack had given up fighting her about it eventually. Jack rarely ever set foot in a church these days, and as the children had grown up, they’d mostly managed to avoid attending religious services as well. Unfortunately, Christmas was the one time each year when Joan absolutely put her foot down and demanded that the entire family attend church services together.
This year, with Claire gone - hastily married off over the summer to some loser who’d had the misfortune to knock her up in the passenger seat of his new 1987 Chevy Camaro - Brian thought maybe they’d get a pass. Alas, it seemed it was not meant to be. Brian trudged the rest of the way up the stairs to his room in a very un-jolly frame of mind. He tossed all the shit Deb had sent home with him onto his bed, not bothering to change clothes or anything else, and just sat on his bed moping until it was time to leave.
When the family was ensconced in a pew near the front of the church a half hour later, Brian made a big show out of unwinding his Christmas scarf, reveling in the knowledge that his mother hated the gaudy thing - which was precisely the reason Brian had insisted on wearing it. The room was overheated, as usual on Christmas, with too many bodies squeezed into the pews and dressed for the snowy weather outside. Of course, they’d had to arrive extra early too - partly because Joan insisted they get there in plenty of time to get ‘good’ seats and also so that she could enjoy the traditional pre-service organ concert and caroling.
Secretly, Brian rather liked coming to church this one time each year. The church was always decorated with bright happy colors, everyone there was wearing smiles and appeared cheerful, and the music and the smell of the incense was calming and familiar. Brian rarely listened to the words of the service. He’d been indoctrinated into the church at a young age so he knew the mass by heart; but, something about the droning of the priest and the chanted responses of the congregation was soothing. Of course, Brian had known for a long time that it was all fake - a pretense of happiness that everybody put on this one time a year to make it seem like they were all good, god-fearing citizens - but, it was nice to sit back and join in the pretense for just a short while sometimes.
And, if they had any inkling of an idea what Brian was thinking about doing to that very cute youth minister who was helping out with the services this year, they’d fucking run him out of the church with torches and pitchforks.
“Brian!” Joanie elbowed her son in the ribs to get him to stop chuckling inappropriately in the middle of the sermon after he’d winked at the handsome young man and had received a shocked little smile in return.
They were all dripping with sweat and exhausted an hour and a half later when the final rituals were all completed and the priest finally told them they could, ‘Go in Peace with the Lord’. Brian followed obediently behind his parents as they slowly shuffled out of the church with all the others, nodding his head politely when his mother told him to, as she greeted friends and acquaintances. While Jack scurried away, ostensibly to warm up the car, but really just to get the fuck away from the crowds, Joan waited in line to thank the priest and wish him a Merry Christmas. Brian took that opportunity to shake hands with the hottie youth minister, holding his warm hand just a little bit too long and whispering something in his ear that made the man blush a brighter crimson than the priest’s cassock.
As he helped his mother walk over the rutted snow-covered parking lot back to their car, Brian was starting to think this would end up being one of the least unpleasant Christmases he’d ever experienced. What with all the holiday greetings and chatting and agreements that this year’s sermon had been one of the most inspiring ever, it took Brian and Joan a good half hour to finally make it to the car. Brian helped Joan into the front passenger seat and then got himself into the back.
That was when Brian noticed the prevailing smell of whiskey fumes inside the car. He looked up just in time to see Jack screw back on the lid of the flask the old lush had brought along to keep himself company with. Well, so much for this Christmas ending well, Brian thought to himself as he buckled up his seat belt.
Luckily, even though the roads were icy and Jack was already half-way sloshed, the trip home from the church was short. Jack even managed to make the turn into the driveway without knocking over the trashcans waiting by the curb. Of course, in order to do that, he ended up angling the car too close to the fence that lined the driveway which meant he couldn’t get his car door open all the way when he tried to get out of the car. Cursing vociferously, Jack fought the door open as wide as he could, started stuffing his bloated body through the inadequate space and then promptly fell on his ass when his foot slipped on the icy ruts at the edge of the mostly shovelled drive.
“Fucking, goddamned ice and snow. I don’t know why we have to live in fucking Pittsburgh after all. And next time I tell you to shovel the walk, Brian, you stupid little shit, you better do a fucking better job,” Jack started, blaming his ungraceful moves on everything and everyone other than his own drunk ass.
“Shhhh! Jack . . . the neighbors . . .” Joanie warned, looking over her shoulder even as she spoke to make sure there was nobody spying on them from the nearby houses.
“I don’t give a crock of buffalo shit about the damned neighbors, you stupid bitch,” Jack intentionally yelled even louder after being told to hush like a child. “If it wasn’t for your fucking obsession with going to church in the middle of the fucking night every year like this, I wouldn’t have been out here falling on my ass in the snow.”
Brian was already halfway to the door, desperately trying to ignore the embarrassing annual Christmas Eve brouhaha. “Where the FUCK do you think you’re going, Sonny Boy?” Jack yelled just before Brian could get his key into the lock and escape.
“I’m going inside and go to sleep since it’s the middle of the fucking night, Jack,” Brian stated, in no mood to put up with more of his father’s usual shit when he’d almost had a tolerable Christmas for once.
“Like fuck you are, Sonny Boy,” Jack slurred, stomping towards Brian on slightly unsteady feet and just barely avoiding a second fall when he came to another patch of ice. “You’re going to get this fucking walkway and the driveway shovelled properly right this fucking instant before someone gets fucking hurt on it. Now get your ass out here and this time do the job right for once in your miserable life, you useless piece of shit.”
“No!”
Jack looked up at that totally unexpected response, staring at his son, the boy standing defiantly in front of the doorway with his feet spread wide and his arms crossed obstinately. “What the hell did you just say to me, Sonny Boy,” Jack hissed, his voice growing quieter and now dripping with menace.
“I said, NO," Brian insisted. “I’m not going to fucking shovel the walk at 1:30 in the fucking morning. The fact that you’re too pissed to walk in a straight line without falling over isn’t my fault and it has nothing to do with how I shovelled the fucking driveway this afternoon. Now, I’m going inside where it’s warm and go to bed and try to forget that I even know a fucking loser like you, Jack. Merry Christmas!”
Brian began to turn towards the door, too angry in his own right to pay attention to the way his father’s face was turning a dark blood red. Luckily, Jack’s aim was a little off and he only lightly clipped Brian’s shoulder when he threw his first punch - he’d intended to knock the side of the boy’s head a good one and if he wasn’t so drunk he’d probably have easily flattened the more slightly built young man.
Whatever Jack had expected, though, it hadn’t been for Brian to turn around and confront him to his face. Brian, however, was far too enraged at this point to care what he was getting himself into. Ever since the last beating, when Jack had put him in the hospital, Brian had been stewing. He was so tired of being Jack Kinney’s whipping boy. He was sick of always being afraid, of always tiptoeing around in his own home, of always being the ‘victim’. All Jack ever did was ruin everything he came near. Brian had almost, for the first time in his pathetic life, experienced a holiday that wasn’t completely horrible. But now Jack was trying to ruin even that small accomplishment. It certainly wasn’t evocative of the whole Christmastime ‘Peace on Earth and Goodwill’ thing.
“Why you fucking little smartass!” Jack growled, his face twisted with a look of pure loathing as he regarded this undisciplined offspring that dared to stand up to him. “I’ll teach you not to talk back . . .”
From his position on the front porch, Brian was standing a step above his father and that, along with his last growth spurt, gave the younger man at least a good foot of height over the old man. Looking down at the wizened, washed up loser that was his father - the small man with small dreams and even more miniscule achievements - Brian suddenly realized that he didn’t need to be afraid of this ineffectual, pissant of a man. In the grand scheme of things, Jack Kinney was NOTHING! Brian couldn’t believe that he had, even for a moment, looked up to this man or wanted his approval or his love. This man was a total and irredeemable failure. A waste of skin and breath, taking up space and using valuable resources on a planet that shouldn’t have to tolerate his uselessness.
This odd little epiphany hit Brian just as Jack cocked back his fist and went to strike again, this blow aimed directly at Brian’s face. With a snort of derision, Brian put up his left hand and grabbed ahold of Jack’s clenched fist, stopping it cold about six inches short of making contact. Brian held the older man’s hand up where it had been stopped and looked down into the shocked eyes of the aged man.
The old man, still befuddled by liquor, hadn’t expected his easily daunted son to stand up to him. Being the bully that he was, much of Jack’s bravado was based solely on the veneer of power that he wielded rather than any actual physical or moral strength. He looked up at the boy that, in his mind, was still a cowering, snivelling little child. Only, Brian wasn’t that helpless little child any longer. The boy was strong. He wasn’t little - he towered over Jack. And what was even more amazing, the father could tell from looking into his son’s eyes that the boy wasn’t afraid of him any longer.
“Fuck you, Jack,” Brian sneered, noting the change in his father’s expression from aggression to fear. “Shovel your own shit from now on,” Brian declared, cocking back his own right fist and delivering a short but very effective jab directly to Jack’s openly gaping maw, then shaking his head and laughing at the pitiful old man lying sprawled and howling in pain at the foot of the porch steps.
“Oh yeah,” Brian added as he turned his back on the sorry sight. “Merry Fucking Christmas, Pops!”
“Really gives a whole new meaning to ‘Deck the Halls’, doesn’t it,” snickered the small blond who smiled at Brian as his charge strutted past and made his triumphant way into the house, locking the door behind him so that the pathetic loser that used to be his father could spend the rest of the night lying in the snow alone.