STAYING OR GOING: BOOK II: CHAPTER 5: THE FACTS OF LIFE EXPOSED Part 2

JUSTIN:

Drew forwarded me the soundbyte, but I’m not even sure how to respond to it. On the one hand, I feel… exonerated. Deb’s tirade was confirmation of something that I have been saying for the longest time. But on the other hand, it’s sad that it took none of the guys answering her calls for her to expose her true feelings about their purpose in hers and Michael’s lives. To know that they were nothing more to her than the keeper of her grown infant is disheartening. To know that I was nothing more than the vessel to make her son’s talentless, worthless, shiftless, and lazy ass feel like he was great at something makes me angry beyond all that is imaginable. I trusted her! I believed that I was special to her just because I am who I am, not because of what I could give Michael! I… I loved her because of who she is, so why couldn’t she love me- love us- the same way, for the same reason?

The thing is that this brings back all of the feelings of insecurity I felt for Craig before I finally gave up hope of a reconciliation. It’s a place emotionally that I imagined I would only revisit if Brian and I fell apart. Or at least that’s what I thought; which is why I’m sitting here in this red chair, staring out into the garden. I need time to collect my thoughts, to order them and restore my sense of self. Only this time it wasn’t at the crack of a bat; it was at the hands of a person I thought of as my surrogate mom. If I’m feeling like this, I can only imagine what the revelation from Deb’s own lips is going to do to Brian and the others.

As he comes in, I’m tempted to get up. But I don’t. I know that with the way I’m feeling right now, I’ll start an argument just because I want to lash out at someone... anyone! Unfortunately, Brian would make the perfect target because he didn’t see all this shit coming long before now. My reasoning is not right, but in this moment, who says it has to be? I take hold of my personal journal to write, desperately trying to expel Deb’s poisonous words from my soul. Right now, all I want to do is run, but where the fuck would I go? I’m here to finally stop running, and yet, the immediate urge to get away is so strong. The need for detachment is so fucking prevalent that it feels as if it’s trying to rise up and overtake me. But no, I have to channel the feeling, write through the hurt and rage I feel, and fight to see this through to the end, whatever it may be. I don’t have any illusions left, only the strong sense of disillusionment. How the fuck am I supposed to get over that?

Then I think about the text Emmett sent me before we all decided to come here. ‘There is so much more to this than you know and that I can tell you.' What the hell does Emmett know about this that I don’t? I’m not even sure that Brian knows anything beyond the information we’ve been given thus far. Well, the only way for me to find out is to actually get the hell out of this chair, but where should I move to? The yellow one for cautious conversation, or the sofa which is considered neutral territory? In thinking back to the conversation with my mother, I also have to ask where the real ‘me’ has gone. So with that thought in mind, and the saying of nothing ventured nothing gained, I move to neutral territory with the express purpose of getting my answers.

“I was wondering if you were going to stay there for the remainder of the day. I take it your session with Alex was very thought-provoking?” Brian asks.

“It was,” I say cautiously. “How was yours?”

“Enlightening.”

“Enlightening?”

“Yes.”

“Is that all? Anything you care to share?”

“You first. What were you thinking about so heavily when you were in the red chair?”

I know that I have to make a decision right now of whether to tell him the truth, or not. It’s not that I’m afraid to speak the truth aloud; just both of our reactions to it. So I opt for asking a question instead. “Have you checked your phone yet?”

“No. Is there something I should know about regarding the accounts?”

“No… not exactly but…”

Brian sighs. “Justin will you just stop tiptoeing around me. Please? We never used to be this way… YOU never used to be this way,” he tells me as he sits next to me on the sofa. Lacing our fingers together, he continues. “I want us to be us again, and that means sometimes telling each other the things that piss us off. I would rather fight like hell with you than to have all this silence. Haven’t you received that memo yet?”

I close my eyes briefly, knowing he’s right. It’s like I have forgotten how to communicate with him outside of the bedroom. We’ve never had a problem there, but our problems can’t be fixed that way right now. We both need words. I sigh again, opening my eyes to regard him. “I understand. It’s just… it’s just that I’m a little afraid of your reaction to what I have to tell you.”

“Have I been that bad?”

“Yes,” I tell him honestly. “Not only with the coldness of your words, but with your actions as well, Brian. Once you’re finished yelling and hurling epithets at whatever is pissing you off, including me, it’s like you just shut down. You shut me out without even giving me a chance to understand or defend myself. It makes it easier to keep things from you; to keep my thoughts to myself and shut down.”

“I don’t mean to do that to you.”

“Yes, you do. And whereas I used to be able to talk myself through it, mentally patting myself on the head or hugging myself telling myself that it’s all going to be okay, it’s not. I can’t… I can’t do it anymore, Brian. I can’t piece myself back together again after you’ve verbally destroyed me. I can’t take the emotional abuse anymore.”

“I didn’t…”

“Every time you withdrew from me emotionally, it hurt, Brian! I felt like it was somehow my fault, or that there was some kind of flaw in my character where you felt you couldn’t depend on me for anything. I don’t want to lose what little conversation we have now, no matter how stilted it is, by telling you something that’s going to cause you to react the same what you always have.”

“What could possibly be so bad that you have to say which could cause all that?”

Instead of answering verbally, I just hand him my phone and stand up. “I’m going out onto the patio. Look for the last message Drew sent me. When you’re ready to talk about it, that’s where I’ll be. I suggest that while you’re listening to it, you sit in one of the red chairs.”

“Justin…”

“No, Brian. The next step in how we handle this is on you, but it has to be completely your decision in how you react to that recording. I can’t influence that in anyway, especially since I’ve had my own time to process it. I’m giving you the opportunity to do the same.” And with those parting words, I walk out onto the patio, listening for the click on the glass door to indicate that it’s closed all the way.

Part of me feels like a coward for leaving him to face the reality of Deb’s hurtful words by himself. She’s been more of a mother to him than his own; been the one constant in a world of uncertainty for him long before any of the rest of us arrived on the scene, with the exception of  Michael. It makes me feel bad for him in that he seems to have traded one form of abuse for another, thinking that accepting Deb’s conditional love was the lesser of two evils, instead of what it really was.

However, the other part of me feels that if he doesn’t listen to it alone, he will just try to excuse it away the way he’s always done for the little bastard he called his best friend. And I let him get away with that in the past as much as I could, until it all just became too much and I kept my thoughts about it to myself. But this time there isn’t anything that he can say or do to convince me Debbie didn’t mean every fucking word she uttered. He can’t deny that she detailed exactly what their life’s function was supposed to be in the grand scheme of hers and Michael’s lives.

In the end, all can do is be there for him, physically, emotionally, and mentally. The question is if he will finally let me without lashing out at me. Will he afford me the same courtesy I did him by taking the time to process this situation so that I could speak with him rationally and without projecting the hurt and anger I still feel onto him? Only time alone with his own thoughts will provide the answers to those questions. And it’s that time which I have to give him, to possibly save us from imploding… again.

BRIAN:

I’m sitting here, thinking about what Justin said to me and watching him through the window. That he’s agitated is clear in the set of his shoulders and spine, and it brings what I’ve done to him over the years into a different perspective. And unfortunately for me, he’s right. A lot of the time, I lashed out at Justin because I felt powerless to fix the fuckups within my own life, some of which I caused, but mostly those I’d gotten into from saving Michael from his. Then instead of letting Justin help me through my situation, I forced him to comfort himself. Him. The one person who most of the time had nothing to do with anything, the only person who has always been willing to share my burdens while holding me up mentally and emotionally so that I wouldn’t crash and burn on my own. I pushed him away and made him use the comfort he willingly offered me to heal himself. But he said that he eventually stopped, and you know what? That knowledge hurts even worse because while I was trying to protect him from the turmoil roiling inside of me, I wounded a person with the most beautiful soul I’ve ever known, anyway. And I have to wonder why he is still willing to be with me because of it.

In listening him to him speak, I have to admit that I see exactly what he means about me. I’ve always been a person who believed that actions spoke louder than words. The problem with that is that while I would apologize with my body, I rarely ever said the words to him. Instead I would make love to him, and then feel exposed so I’d repeat the cycle of pushing him away all over again. It’s no wonder that he’s afraid of my reaction to whatever is on this recording. My track record with placing my anger where it belongs isn’t the best… hell, in most cases, it’s nonexistent! And yet, he’s still here, willing to at least work on our relationship so that we can become better than what we used to be- as friends, as lovers, as partners, as husbands. With that thought in mind, I want to start as I mean to go on.

Crossing over to the glass doors, I press the button beside it and watch as the doors slide back leaving the veranda fully exposed. The salt sea air assails my nostrils and rustles my hair, the same way and direction as his blond crowning glory is being tossed about. I move forward to stand beside him as his eyes continue to regard the fairly calm body of water. He jumps a little when I take his hand in mine for the second time today, and I can tell he was deep in thought.

Looking down at our entwined fingers, he asks, “Did you listen to it yet?”

I shake my head before answering, “No. I thought… I want to listen to it with you.” He turns slightly towards me with his head tilted a little to the side. His steady, but questioning regard gives me the courage to say what I need to say. “I heard you, Justin, but I actually listened to what you’ve said. I ap… I apologize if I scared you into thinking that it was best for you to just clam up rather than talk to me. I know that I haven’t been the easiest person to live with- let alone be in a relationship with- but you have to know it was never my intention to hurt you as I’ve so clearly done in the past. I understand now that what you were trying to offer me wasn’t pity, but comfort and a steadfast shoulder to lean on. I’m sorry that I couldn’t see the gift for what it was at the time, but I need it now. Can you offer it again?”

“Can you accept it, and it not be used as a weapon against me later? After you listen to the recording, I mean.” I nod, and the relief leaving his body feel palpable. I still can’t believe the damage I’ve done to him. It’s yet another thing that I’m not sure I will ever forgive myself for. But I’m reassured when he says, “Then I’ll let you have of me what you need. All you ever have to do is ask, and I would give you just about anything, Brian. I just can’t offer you my self-respect anymore. If I’m honest, I never should have in the first place, and by me remaining silent when I should have defended myself, I sacrificed it for your peace of mind. But my heart is still yours for as long as you want it.”

“I do. I need it, Jus. And I don’t give a fuck if you have to scream at me to be heard, just don’t stop talking to me again. That was more harmful to us than anything Michael could have ever done to us.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Then I guess I’d better his play on this thing, and figure out what our next move together will be.”

Justin leads me over to the lounge chairs by the pool, still overlooking the ocean. From this angle, it looks as if the pool and the ocean are joined with no beginning and no end. It’s how I’ve always envisioned mine and Justin’s relationship. I’m incredibly sad to think that the rifts between us have progressed in such a way where it’s become evident that we are indeed separate and apart from each other. Fuck! I need us back! I need us as joined together in the heart, mind, and soul again as we are in business. Kinnetik would never have existed, or have been as successful as it is without that connection. It had always been my solace and sanity, and without it I’m just as lost as I was before I met Justin, and during Ethan.  I refuse to believe that it’s severed completely as the way Justin and I are with each other suggests. I’ve never had much faith in the God my mother always preached to me about, but I have to acknowledge that He may actually exist because of the faith I have in the man I married. If ever there was an angel to walk the earth, Justin is mine, and therefore I have to believe that he won’t leave me.

Justin hands me a glass of Beam as he sets the other one and the bottle of bourbon on the table. “I figured you might want to drink that before you press play.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Worse.”

“Then why the fuck are we going to listen to it?” I really wonder what is so important on it.

“Because then you can make an informed decision about where we go from here.”

“What does this have to do with us?”

“Press play,” he tells me, taking a sip of his own drink.

Scrubbing my hand down my face in mild frustration at his cryptic response, I place my own drink on the table between us as Justin lays back in his seat. Taking up his phone, my finger hovers over the play button. Looking at him, I note his calm demeanor, but it’s when I look into his eyes that I see the storm clouds gathering, making the normally placid ocean blue eyes grow darker. It’s clear that whatever is on this recording had pissed him off beyond whatever it is I expected. So taking his hand, I hold on tightly as my hovering finger presses the button which will explain everything…

“I can’t believe this shit! Justin thinks he can just treat my baby like this and expect that I won’t have anything to say about it?! And just you wait until I get ahold of that ASSHOLE and the other two chicken-foot bastards! They think that they can just toss my Michael aside for their boytoys! No way, NO FUCKING WAY! They owe us… all of them! They owe it to Michael for all he’s done for them. When Emmett was high and homeless, Michael took him in! Even when his supplier pimp came looking for him at Michael’s apartment, and threatened his life if he didn’t come back, it was Michael that called the police! Then that fucking Ted, and his drug-addicted ass! He’s really changed since he started working for that asshole. Gone are the days when he was a staid but loyal pencil-pusher. But now that he’s gotten a little position, he thinks he can shit all over my son and the support we gave him? NO SIREE!!! This is NOT going to happen; not on MY watch! And let’s not even talk about King Dick himself! All those fucking nights I had to clean him up; all those fucking meals I had to prepare for him because of his bastard parents… He had ONE FUCKING JOB- just ONE- and that was to take care of Michael! And now he thinks he can just ditch him because of Justin?! Oh HELL NO! He owes Michael! He owes him for all the times he’s lent Brian money, or when he’s driven him home when he was too high to drive himself… HE OWES HIM DAMMIT!! And he, along with the rest of them, owe me a fucking explanation! I’ll not stop calling all of those turncoat assholes until somebody explains to me just what the fuck they think they are doing! And I won’t even get started on Ben! He owes us more than that! He forgets that he took vows to my son- vows that I allowed against my own better judgment! He’d better get…”

“Will you SHUT THE FUCK UP?!!” Diane? What the hell is she doing there? “Nobody owes you a fucking thing! They all have lives, while the blood-sucking scum known as your bastard son is trying his best to steal them. And for what? So his intelligence-challenged ass doesn’t get left behind?! So he can have a free ride through life at the expense of everyone else, except you? Wait. Let me guess! You feel that you’ve done your duty by your brat so now it’s his friends’ job to pick up where you left off so you can have a break from the thinks-he’s-entitled Spawn of Satan you raised? Well lady, buy a fucking clue… or better yet, I’ll give you one for fucking free. NOBODY is going to cater to that spoiled, malevolent, whiny, lazy, loud-mouth, inconsiderate, waste of a mediocre fuck that you pushed out of your twat! Raise him yourself! My brothers don’t have time to do your fucking job for you!”

Damn! Can she give a ‘Sit Down and Shut up’ smackdown! I would be tempted to laugh if the situation wasn’t both so serious and fucking heartbreaking. I can’t believe that I didn’t see it. As I wipe the stray tears I wasn’t aware fell while listening to Deb degrade Em, Ben, Ted, and me, Justin sits silent while squeezing my hand in support. It’s then I realize he’s not only angry on his own behalf, but the rest of ours, too.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Deb asks, and I can just about imagine the look of shock coupled with the hand not holding the phone on her hip, as if daring the person to answer her back.

“The first answer that you need to know is I’m Blake’s sister. The second is that I’m the new owner of this place, and your new boss. Although I think we’re about a second closer to making that your ex-boss, especially if you don’t put that fucking phone down and stop harassing my brothers-from-other-mothers and get your tyrannical ass back to work! It’s a new day around here, Ms. Novotny, and unless that domineering doofus you call a son can afford to take care of you, I would suggest you start doing the job I’ll be paying you for.”

“My sons would never….”

“Son, Ms. Novotny. In case you don’t know, it’s singular. You only have ONE son. And I’m sure the others will not mind me speaking for them when I tell you that the reign of Novotny terror is OVER. Unlike before, they have family now, and a wonderful mother figure in Jennifer Taylor, whom I met just this morning. They no longer need you and your brand of you-will-owe-me-FOREVER bullshit, and they certainly don’t have to clean up the shit that ignoramus you birthed brought on himself. After the shit he has said to and about Justin, it’s a wonder his ass isn’t lying somewhere in a pine box!” She’s certainly right about that! It’s something else that I need to address sooner rather than later, and when I see Michael again… I will!

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Diane, don’t!” Emmett begs.

“Oh my God, Emmett is that you?” Deb screeches into the receiver and at this point, even I’m ready to yell at the phone and tell her to shut the fuck up! “It’s about fucking time you answer the damn phone! Now about Michael…”

“Diane, tell her!” Drew orders, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so fucking angry.

“No one is going to come to the rescue of the man who has wished Justin DEAD more times than you can imagine!”

“WHAT?! You’re lying! Michael would never…”

“It’s true, Deb,” Melanie says. I’d recognize her voice anywhere.

I’m surprised she would even set foot in the eatery again, knowing how judgmental Deb was about her and Lindsay leaving Pittsburgh after Gus’ death. It was bad enough that she blamed all three of us for taking away her chance to be a grandma. In retrospect, I’m glad that Gus will never know this woman. He’ll never have to bear the pain of disappointment from being considered her family when in reality we are nothing more to her than glorified babysitters!

“Melanie! What the hell are you doing here?! And why are you taking this lying bitch’s side?! Michael is your friend.”

Mel snickers. “Michael Charles Novotny is only a friend to himself. To the rest of us, he’s just as fickle as you are about your wigs.”

“No, he’s not!”

“Yes, he is! Damn, I can’t believe that you still choose to wear those Michael-colored blinders when it comes to him. He’s got you snowed good. But to answer your question, I found out years after it happened just why Michael got punched in the eye by Brian at the party. Quite frankly, Michael got off easily for saying that Brian should have left Justin lying on the garage floor.”

“He didn’t,” She sounds shocked, but… not surprised? Did she know and said nothing to cover for the asshole?

I mean if he’s said it multiple times, on different occasions, who’s to say that he didn’t say it to her and she just disregarded it to keep her image of Michael? But then again, maybe she really is broken up about it on Justin’s behalf. I really want to give her the benefit of the doubt about her reaction, because if she knew and did nothing while still professing to love Sunshine… I know I’ve been an asshole about it, but it was because I didn’t want to hurt him. If she let Michael get away with it, I know now that it wouldn’t have been for any other reason than her own selfish purposes, and not because it would have hurt Justin in the least. If she can’t understand why Justin no longer wants to work with Michael...

“He did, Deb. And since then he’s said it more than once. Face it! Michael has wanted Justin gone since the night he met Brian. He just made sure to act on his mean-spiritedness when none of the rest of us were around or could hear the maliciousness that pours from him as easily as he takes his next breath. It’s why Justin won’t do business with him anymore. But Michael cut off his nose to spite his face in the end, because Justin and Brian own all the copyrights associated to the artwork and advertising. Then to make matters a bit worse for Michael, Justin also owned the design elements that were featured on Red Cape Comics website, and within his legal rights, Justin has severed all ties that bound him to Michael in any way, shape, or form. Simply put, Michael fucked himself over in more ways than he ever bargained for, and there is nothing he can do about it.”

“Em, you have to talk to Justin. Tell him…” My fucking mistake! She’s incapable of feeling anything for anyone unless it’s fucking Michael! She’s got a lot of fucking nerve asking Emmett to talk to Justin so that her fucking son can have his goddamn comic book fantasy back! I snatch up the bottle and take a long daught as I continue listening.

“What would you have me tell him, Deb? We were all there, and Michael most assuredly meant every word. So no, I won’t be talking to Justin on Michael-the-Moochers’ behalf. As far as I’m concerned Michael deserved everything he got and so much more.”

The line went dead, and I can feel Justin watching me, even though he’s still looking ahead into the water. I scrub my hands over my face again, before standing up abruptly. I just want to escape all of it: the phone call; the culpability I feel by doing exactly what Debbie meant for me to do; the need to drink, drug, and fuck myself into oblivion so that I no longer remember my own name; the urge to hit something or lash out at Justin for something that is so clearly not his fault, but my own; ALL OF IT!! I want… I want…

But I don’t. I don’t do any of those things. Instead of running to the red chair to close myself off from the world, I turn to my husband. He’s still looking ahead, and I know it’s to let me make up my own mind about what I need in this moment. But the truth is, I need him. Just him. Only him. While life as I’ve always known it is falling apart around me, I need the only man capable of holding me together. I move over to stand by his lounge chair which is big enough for two. Looking up at me, he looks into my eyes asking the silent question of what I need. Without words, he just scoots over and opens his arms to me. And with his silent support, he lets me fall apart within his arms.