Destiny (Waiting for Forever) (37 page)

“Jamie, honey, can you go up and get the desk chairs from Brian’s room and Richard’s study?” Carolyn asked, and I jogged up the stairs. The chair from Richard’s study was easy, and after I put it at the kitchen table, I went up to Brian’s room.

Though it was cleaner than I’d ever seen it, the room hadn’t changed at all in the last two years.

The comforter that covered the bed was the same, and I had a feeling that if I lay down on it, I’d be able to smell him. The desk beneath the window, the dresser, even the models on the dresser had not changed. It was almost as if time had stopped for Brian when my parents had taken me from him. I rolled the chair away from the desk and sat down. Brian could come through that door right now, tell me it was time to start our homework, and the last two years would never have happened. We’d be in our senior year of high school, making our plans for the future, and I’d never have to go back to San Diego, to Steven.

Damn it
. Being back in Crayford was messing with my head. I couldn’t afford to be sentimental. I just had to survive. Not wanting to keep the others waiting, I carried the chair out into the hall and closed the door on my past.

When I got back downstairs with the chair, I found everyone else sitting around the table talking. They hadn’t started because they were waiting for me, and a warm feeling filled my chest. Brian moved his chair over to the left, giving me more room to sit down at the small table. Only meant for four, the six chairs crowded around it, but no one cared. We were together, and for the moment, we were happy.

We passed around the platter of fried chicken and bowls of mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn. Carolyn had even made biscuits. My cooking was passable, but I could honestly say that I hadn’t had a meal like that in a very long time.

“So, boys, why are you in New Orleans?” Richard asked with polite interest. The prep for the food had taken their focus for a while, but with that done, the focus had returned to talking. Brian looked at Mike and then at me. I wondered if he could be any more obvious.

“Work,” Brian said at the very same time Mike said they were on vacation.

“It’s a working vacation,” Brian finished lamely. I chanced a glance at Carolyn and saw that she looked skeptical but apparently decided to let it pass. Richard didn’t look as placated but remained silent. No one spoke for a few minutes, then Carolyn asked about Leo, and Brian talked happily for a while about the boardinghouse where he and Mike lived.

His cell phone interrupted the story, and Brian checked the display.

“It’s Nick; he wants us to start at nine in the morning,” Brian told us, and then mentioned casually that Nick was our boss. Then he held a finger up and looked back at Carolyn. “Oh, and I have a new cell phone number. I brought back your phone in case one of you wanted to use the minutes still on it,” Brian said, pulling out a battered-looking cell phone and handing it to Carolyn.

“You’re sure you don’t need it? Why don’t you keep it for an emergency?” She handed the phone back with a tone that invited no argument. He shrugged and put it back in his pocket. They talked for a while about some guy named Kyle, and after a while, I finally figured out they were talking about Mr. Barnes, our high-school art teacher. I had no idea he and Brian had gotten so close. They also talked about someone named Adam. Brian hadn’t mentioned him during all our talks together, and my blood heated when I heard the soft note with which Brian talked about him. Obviously, they had been friends, but it sounded like more than that.

Finally, everyone finished eating, and, just as we had when we were boys, we started to clear up the supper dishes.

“You boys don’t have to—” Carolyn started, but Brian waved her off and sent her to spend time with Mike in the living room. I got the feeling that Mike was starting to get very attached to Carolyn. We stood at the sink, and Brian washed while I dried. I hardly noticed that even after two years, I had no problems putting everything away where it belonged.

Just as I finished putting away the huge pan Carolyn had made the potatoes in, Richard came into the kitchen. He stood near the door just watching for a moment until Carolyn joined him. His tense posture mirrored hers, and I knew whatever they wanted to talk about, it couldn’t be good. Trying to be inconspicuous, I nudged Brian, and he looked over to see them too. I listened, but I didn’t hear anything from Mike or Alex in the other room, only the sound of the ancient console television set that had sat in the corner of the big room for as long as I could remember.

Richard and Carolyn walked over and sat at the table without a word, and Brian’s hands shook as he finished washing the cast-iron frying pan Carolyn had used for the chicken. When he handed it to me, I put it on the stove and turned on the burner to evaporate the water so the pan wouldn’t rust. Taking his time, Brian let the water out of the double sink and used the rag to wash down the sides. When he could no longer stall, he turned to face them.

“Boys, please sit down. We want to talk to you,” Richard said, and Brian sighed. We took the remaining seats, which were thankfully next to each other so I could put my hand on Brian’s leg. He looked so upset, and I couldn’t imagine what he thought they were going to say. His gaze remained fixed on the table in front of him as he slouched in the chair, looking every bit the teenage boy that he was.

“I’m just going to lay it out,” Richard started and took Carolyn’s hand in his. “You can’t come up with a convincing lie as to why you’re in New Orleans, Jamie looks like he’s strung out on something, and judging by that fancy new cell phone, you seem to have a lot of spare cash from some mystery job, even though you were broke enough to consider coming home just two months ago. Brian, what is going on?”

Brian sat frozen, wide-eyed as he stared at the table. He hadn’t directed the question to me, so I stayed silent. Besides, the Schreibers didn’t need a blow-by-blow account of the horrors in my life. It took Brian a long time to process what they’d asked. Though the fan blew the cool breeze around the small room, sweat ran down the side of Brian’s face. Silence filled the kitchen and hung heavy in the midafternoon air. The only sounds in the room came from an old clock above the table, ticking out several long minutes, and I wondered if Brian would speak at all. Richard and Carolyn were patient, however. Finally, Brian took a deep breath and rewarded them for their patience.

“It’s true; my new job more than pays my rent. I needed the new smartphone to help keep track of everything because I’m really busy now. I need to keep up with my different social networking sites, e-mail, texts, and my calendar wherever I am,” he told the table in a steady monotone.

“But, Brian, what is this new job? You said it wasn’t illegal, just that I wouldn’t like it,” Carolyn asked, reaching over to try to cover Brian’s hand with her own. He slid his hands under the table, and I don’t think I’d ever seen him look so defeated or ashamed. I could tell by the way he hunched in on himself, how he protected himself, that he thought they would disown him. They would throw him away just like my parents or Mike’s parents.

“I work for Hartley Entertainment as a model with Mike, Alex, Jamie, and a bunch of other guys. We… we star in adult videos,” Brian finished in a whisper. Knowing Brian for so long, I could tell he did not want to use the word “porn” with his parents, but it didn’t matter. They got it. Carolyn’s shocked gasp was loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen. It was even louder than the sound of Richard’s chair scraping as he pushed it back and got up to walk to the back door. He didn’t leave, but he stood quietly looking out over the backyard. I’d never seen such an emotional reaction from the man who was usually so reserved.

“Oh, Brian,” Carolyn whispered as she started to cry.

“Mom, I’m sorry. Please… please don’t cry,” Brian pleaded when he finally looked up at her. His eyes filled with tears at his mother’s anguish.

“Why didn’t you just come home, Brian? We would have taken care of you!” Her voice broke, and I saw Brian’s hands twitch in his lap as if he wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t. It looked like he was afraid to move.

“Mom, I have friends in San Diego. I have a life there.”

“Friends that got you into porn, Brian. What kind of friends are those?” she asked scathingly, and her expression turned from shock to anger.

“They didn’t talk me into anything.”

“And what do you say about this?” she asked, suddenly looking at me. “You’re supposed to care about him, and you’re letting him sell his body? You’re letting him take his clothes off for strangers?” I didn’t understand how she could think I encouraged him to continue doing porn. The very idea of it made me sick.

“He’s an adult, Mrs. Schreiber. I hate that he does it, but I can’t stop him. Believe me, I’m in no position right now to do much about anything,” I said, my voice trailing off, and my argument sounded hollow in my head.

“Brian, you’re not doing drugs too, are you?” Richard asked as he came back to stand at the table next to his wife. It seemed sitting at the table with his porn-star son was too much for him. It hurt that he didn’t even ask me or try to confirm that I was using. He thought the worst of me—just like everyone else did.

“No, Dad, of course not,” Brian said, his voice full of shock and hurt at his father’s question.

“What is it, Jamie, coke? Heroin?” Richard asked, his attention focused on me for the first time. I nodded; there was no reason to deny it. Brian and I were both adults. They couldn’t do anything to us except layer guilt and disappointment on our already full shoulders.

“Coke, pot, and ecstasy, mostly,” I said dispassionately.

No one spoke, and the silence stretched on for several minutes. Richard and Carolyn stared at us in disbelief, and we looked mostly at the table. Brian’s hands were shaking in his lap, and I took one into my own, trying to reassure him. It seemed Richard had been taking that time to build up a good head of steam because in the next minute, he exploded.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled, and Brian’s shoulders slumped further. Carolyn didn’t say anything but just watched her son. “You just screwed up your whole future! Who is going to hire you with your naked ass all over the Internet? Have you picked up a disease yet? You will, and with no health insurance, what are you going to do then? You’re going to come crawling back home, and we might not be here to help you!”

“Okay, we need to go,” Mike said from the door as he came in and put a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Come on, baby. We need to get back to the hotel. We have an early call tomorrow.” I looked at the clock over the table and saw that it was only a little after seven.

“You got him into this. Didn’t you?” Richard asked Mike, who was surprisingly calm, given his usual volatile temper.

“I didn’t,” Mike said without elaborating and pulled on Brian’s arm. I stood up and pulled on the other so Brian would stand. He did so, but reluctantly. Mike and I herded him out of the kitchen, passing Alex, who stood wide-eyed in the living room.

For the three-hour drive back to New Orleans, Brian never spoke.

Twenty-Two

“W
HAT
room are we in?” I asked Mike as we walked into the hotel. With my bag in one hand and Brian’s hand in the other, I literally had my hands full. In the back of my mind, I noticed that the hotel lobby was impressive and ornate, but I’d appreciate that tomorrow. Right now, I just wanted to get Brian upstairs. Mike reached into Brian’s back left pocket and pulled out a small envelope with the hotel’s logo.

“You’re in 815. Do you want me to go with you?” he asked and stroked Brian’s cheek affectionately. Brian shook his head, the only interaction he’d had with us in hours. I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. I took that as a hopeful sign.

“We’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I told them with a little nod to Alex. They were both worried about Brian; the fear was clear in their faces. But I needed to focus on Brian, because the guilt and shame hadn’t left his face, and it tore at me.

“He has my number in his phone. Call me if you need me,” Mike said, and I nodded. Their closeness needled at me, and I knew it would be a cold day in hell before I called him to help with my Brian.

When we reached our room, I used the key Mike had handed me, opened the door, and ushered Brian through first. He passed the beds and went right into the bathroom. Sighing, I put my suitcase on the floor and sat on the empty bed to wait. A suitcase lay open on the other bed, and I saw Brian’s things peeking out. I thought about seeing if he had his toothpaste and stuff when I heard a broken sob come from the bathroom. Quiet retching followed, and my chest ached for him because, God knows, I knew that feeling. I knew that dawning realization that your parents were people, and they could hate you just like anyone else.

I sat on the edge of the bed, helpless.

After several minutes, I heard the water running, and still I didn’t move. More than anything, I wanted to take him into my arms, to help him through the shocking disappointment the day had turned into. But when the door opened and Brian walked out naked, I froze, not sure what to do. Nothing in his demeanor said I would be welcome. He shuffled to the bed and, with a violence I didn’t know he possessed, grabbed the suitcase lying on the bed and flung it off the end. Clothes, shoes, and the other contents of the bag flew out and landed haphazardly across the hotel-room floor. Brian crawled under the covers of the far bed and curled up into a ball.