Chapter Four: Christmas Future

Brian wasn't really surprised when he woke up in his bed this time. He had been expecting that. The tree was gone and the loft was dark. Even the streetlight outside seemed to have lost its brightness in the gloom. Brian stood and walked over to the window and saw that a dense fog had fallen over the city and hardly any light could get through, though there was an eerie glow in the mists.

Brian shivered, recalling the Grim Reaper-like spirit that had been part of every version of A Christmas Carol he had ever read or been forced to watch. He had no desire to run into a character like that. Even as that thought passed through his mind, however, an indistinct shadow passed along the street below his window. Brian took a deep breath and waited. It was only a couple minutes before the spirit was knocking on his door. It sounded more like a death knell than any human knock and Brian shivered again from dread.

Almost of their own volition, Brian’s legs took him over to the door and he soon was sliding the heavy steel door aside. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the dreadful creature.

“Open your eyes, fuckwit,” a familiar voice said.

Brian blinked his eyes and was shocked to see Melanie standing there dressed completely in black. Even her hair was pitch black. She looked rather Goth

“Oh, I’m not really Melanie,” the spirit said. “The-Powers-That-Be just decided that the big scary Grim Reaper was a little over the top. So they gave me a familiar face instead. We should get going. We really don’t have much time and we have three stops to make. Come on asshole, get a move on.”

Brian reluctantly took a hold of the spirit’s arm and felt the now familiar rush of time and space passing around him. They landed outside the munchers’ house once again, the door decorated with a cheerful holiday wreath. This time they did not go inside. Brian could hear that there was an argument raging in the house. At first he thought that the male voice he could hear was his own, but when the door opened and a teen-aged boy came out, he realized that it must be Gus.

“Fuck what you want,” Gus raged. “Fuck you and mom and especially fuck Dad! I’m not fucking going and that’s it.”

“Gus, get your ass back here,” Lindsay shouted as she came to the door. “We are not finished discussing this.”

“No,” Gus shouted from the end of the walk. “I’m done talking about it. I’m done listening to you guys try to justify this shit. You don’t want me to live with you, fine! I won’t. But I’m sure as fuck not going to live with dear old dad. That fucker doesn't care if I’m alive or dead. So fuck you all. I’m going to Joe’s. Maybe I’ll come back… someday.”

Gus strode off, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his scowl still in place.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Brian asked the ghost.

The Melanie look-alike shrugged. “Gus is a very trouble kid. He’s been arrested three times this year for petty theft. He’s become rebellious and fallen in with a bad crowd. His mothers found drugs in his room and confronted him. They thought that you might be able to help him, since you had a bit of a wild youth yourself, but you can see how that turned out.”

“Why does he hate me?” Brian said.

The spirit laughed coldly. “You never were there for him. Even when you were there, you never let him see you cared. You may not have yelled or hit him, but your distance was debilitating. Come on, we have to go if we’re going to catch the next stop in time.”

They appeared on a street corner somewhere that Brian didn't recognize, but he knew this place even if he didn't know the city. It was a street just like Liberty Avenue. All the gay men and women were there. There were gay clubs and bars and the same licentious atmosphere in the night air.

Brian walked up the street beside the spirit and paused when she pointed. Gus was there, under a street lamp. It looked like he was hustling and hadn't had a decent meal or bath in weeks.

“No,” Brian said emphatically. “No. Not Gus.”

Even as he denied it, a man in a car drove up and shouted, “How much?”

Gus looked at him through bloodshot eyes and said, “Fifty for a blow, hundred for a fuck.”

“I’ll give you two hundred for a fuck without a condom,” the sleaze said with a leer.

“No! Gus, no!” Brian shouted and rushed across the street, but the street disappeared and they were once again outside Justin’s house. “What the fuck?!”

“Our next stop,” Melanie said smugly.

Brian glared at her, but eventually his eyes were drawn to the house before him. It looked a lot less grand than it had on his last visit. The paint was peeling and the landscaping had all overgrown.

“Where’s Justin?” Brian asked grudgingly.

“Inside,” the spirit said.

They went through the gates and up the long drive once again. Brian noted other things that had been neglected. The drive now had large cracks and several small pot holes. The shutters around the windows were hanging slightly askew. The house was dark and looked almost sinister.

“The kids in the neighborhood call this the old Taylor place,” Melanie said casually. “They think it’s haunted. They often dare each other to ring the doorbell. Not one has ever been brave enough to actually make it all the way up the drive. It wouldn't do them any good if they did. No one will answer.”

Brian shook his head at that. “Why?”

“The owner never accepts visitors,” Melanie said. She opened the door and gestured for Brian to enter. “Go on.”

Brian did as he was bade and stepped across the threshold. In the gloom, he could just make out a light coming from a partially open door down the hall. He went there and found Justin in the study with another man, sitting on opposite sides of a desk. Justin looked a lot older than he had the last time Brian saw him, perhaps in his late fifties or early sixties.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what the curator wants,” Justin told the guy. “I don’t make public appearances and I won’t sign a contract that says I will.”

“Justin, you haven’t left the house in more than five years,” the man said. “You need to get out. Or at the very least, see someone about this.”

“I don’t need a shrink,” Justin muttered. “I’m perfectly sane. I’m not agoraphobic. I just don’t fucking like people. I have no desire to make nice with the grocer. Nor do I want to suck up to the so-called art aficionados. They’re all pretentious assholes who don’t know a thing about art beyond what they've read in the rags. Fuck that. I won’t do it. If the curator at MOMA doesn't like it, he can suck it. I don’t need to have my work hung on his walls. I was doing them a favor by donating that painting. I can take it back if they don’t want it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the guy said with exasperation. “You aren't taking the painting back. I’ll make your excuses. I’m sure it won’t be a surprise to anyone.”

“I don’t know why they thought I’d agree in the first place,” Justin grumbled.

The man sighed. “I don’t either. On another topic that I know is going to piss you off, have you called the doctor about that pain you've been having in your arm?”

Justin snorted. “He thinks it’s my heart and wants me to go to the hospital for tests. It’s a waste of fucking time and money. I’ll die when I die. There’s no reason to hang around for decades worrying about my health while slowly my mind stops working. I’d rather go now than linger. It says so in my living will.”

“I know,” the man sighed. “I wrote the damned thing for you. Uncle Justin, please reconsider.”

“You should be glad,” Justin said. “My only nephew. You’ll inherit a fortune.”

“I’d rather have you around the man said sadly. “Even if you are an impossible ass sometimes. Come to the house for Christmas. Mom really wants to see you and you know she can’t get out here very well.”

“Damned doctors,” Justin said. “They couldn't help her after the accident. Now she’s stuck in that damned wheel chair. You should have seen her dance when she was younger, Jamie. She was a sight to behold.”

“I've seen some of the videos, Uncle Justin,” Jamie said. “I remember the one of the two of you dancing at her wedding. You both looked so happy then.”

“It was a happy day,” Justin sighed.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Jamie asked. “The family loves you and we miss you.”

“He hasn't left the house since his mother died five years ago,” the spirit said, making Brian jump a little. “She was the only one who could guilt him into leaving.”

“Why?” Brian asked.

The spirit smiled sadly. “A few years from now, Justin will go out for a night at the clubs in Chicago. He will meet a very attractive man and go home with him for sex. Unfortunately, the man will not be kind or gentle. He will hurt Justin and steal his money and leave him to die in a gutter. It is only because of the help of a stranger that he will survive. He will face months of medical procedures and therapy. His attacker will go to trial and get off with community service. Justin will lose what little faith in humanity that he had left.”

“Fuck,” Brian muttered. “Why would he just go home with some fucking asshole?”

“Why wouldn't he?” Melanie asked in reply. “Isn't that how he met you? Isn't that what you taught him to do? ‘Maximum pleasure and minimum bullshit?’”

“Fuck,” Brian muttered again.

The two men at the desk both sighed and stood up. They would not resolve anything tonight. “The gifts for the family are in the hall. Make sure that little Jenny gets that doll she wanted. I bought the whole set, with the outfit and stroller and everything.”

Jamie nodded. “I’ll be back in a few days. Call me if you need anything.”

“I always do,” Justin said with a ghost of a smile.

Brian and Justin both watched Jamie leave the dark house. Justin sat back down and Brian sat in the chair that Jamie had vacated.

“Don’t do this, Sunshine,” Brian said. “This isn't you. This isn't the man I fell in love with.”

Justin began to rub his left arm and Brian noticed him grimace with pain. “Looks like it’ll happen a little earlier than I thought,” Justin said as he moved from rubbing his arm to rubbing his chest. His breathing became labored. He looked up and seemed to see Brian sitting there. “Brian. You still look just as beautiful as ever.”

“Call for help, Justin,” Brian said. “Call your nephew back here. This is not the way you are meant to die. Not alone, like this.”

“Alone like you,” Justin gasped out. “I went to your funeral last year. No one knows I was there. There really wasn't anyone to there to know. They buried you next to Gus. I bought the plot on your other side. I guess we’ll be together now.”

“No!” Brian shouted. He turned to the spirit. “Do something! This isn't how it was supposed to be! Fix it!”

“I cannot,” the spirit said almost regretfully.

Justin fell back in his chair and Brian rushed to his side. For some reason, he could feel Justin in his arms.

“One last kiss?” Justin asked.

Brian felt like his chest was filled with lead and his eyes couldn't focus through the tears, but he managed to find Justin’s lips with his own. The kiss they shared was filled with love and emotion and when Brian finally pulled away, Justin gave him a small smile. “I never stopped loving you.”

“Please don’t leave me, Justin,” Brian cried. “Please. I love you!”

“Too late,” Justin said. “Forty years too late.”

When Justin breathed his last, Brian felt like his whole world had come to an end. He glared at the spirit. “Why? Why the fuck would you show me this?! Fucking change it! He’s supposed to be happy! He supposed to find the perfect man to love him the way I never could! He wasn't supposed to end up alone! I was the one who was supposed to die alone. I’m the unlovable one! Not him!”

“Who said you are unlovable?” the spirit asked. “He loved you. So many people have loved you, but you have turned them away one by one. You say it is for their good, but it wasn't good for Justin and it wasn't good for Gus either.”

Brian clutched Justin’s lifeless body close to him, but he looked away from spirit Melanie as he answered her question. “My parents.”

“Two people,” Melanie snorted. “Two ignorant people could not break through their own addictions and fears and anger long enough to love you. And because of that, you turned away every opportunity to love and be loved.”

The scene faded and Brian found himself alone at a grave. There were actually three there, and as Brian read their names, one by one, an overwhelming sense of grief overcame him. In life he had pushed the two most important people away from him, but in death they were there, side by side, for eternity. Brian brushed a leaf off of Gus’ gravestone and a sob of regret broke from his throat. “I’m so sorry, Sonny Boy,” Brian cried. “I never… I never wanted you to… You were supposed to be happy and safe with the munchers. I didn't know…”

Brian swiped angrily at the tears in his eyes before turning to Justin’s grave. “You were my Sunshine. I can’t… I can’t lose you again. I've got to make this right.”

Brian stood up and turned his face to the heavens. “Do you hear me?! I’m fucking going to make this right!”