Teaser: TOWJWAGABI, Part 3A
I haven't posted in awhile, so I wanted to put up this teaser for Part 3 of TOWJWAGABI. I hope to have the whole part finished by the end of the week!
The One Where Justin's With Another Guy, and Brian Interferes, Part 3A
Before Jennifer Taylor died, Sunday was their day of sloth. Dan got up early and ran then woke Justin with a decadent breakfast-omelets or ginger pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, sometimes French toast. Justin staggered downstairs without fail just as the coffee finished brewing. They traded sections of the Sunday New York Times and bumbled their way through the crossword puzzle.
Dan watched football or baseball or basketball, hockey or soccer or lacrosse, while Justin studied and sketched and made fun of Dan's butch obsession with sports, prompting Dan to demonstrate various moves and holds he'd used when he'd wrestled in high school.
There was plenty of time for fucking around and napping and more fucking around.
If they hadn't managed to finagle a dinner invitation out of anyone, Dan often put together an impressive spread, then declared Justin responsible for all of the remaining meals that week. Sometimes there was a small, quiet dinner at Jennifer's condo, and sometimes they made an appearance at the Forrester Family Dinner.
Dan now found it laughable that he'd been so hesitant to expose Justin to his family. It made sense enough early on. Charlie's reaction to Justin's age was a good indication of how the rest of the family would fall in, and Dan didn't particularly relish suffering the incessant jibes of his siblings and their spouses.
But there was more to it than that. While Dan would never characterize Justin as shy, he was quiet, and having spent an evening or two around the dinner table with Jennifer, Dan was sure his family would scare the shit out of Justin. An unheard request to pass the butter could segue into a blistering screaming match about the one time when Kate was 12 and Dan was six, and he scalped all of her Barbies and hung them by individual nooses from her bedroom window.
And although Dan and Charlie didn't have any kids, between Dan's two sisters and his other brother, there were nine kids, and most of them seemed to bring a friend or two with them to dinner. The house was always full, the walls reverberating with shouts of laughter and outrage, children crying, siblings fighting, parents refereeing.
But Justin actually enjoyed the chaos of those dinners. While he was still hesitant to join in the insanity, he appreciated it all-from the fawning interest of Dan's sisters and sisters-in-law to the crying baby to Charlie's oft-repeated observation that Justin was a mere three years older than their nephew Chas.
The boisterous Forrester Family Dinner became a great antidote to the melancholy of Justin's Sundays after Jennifer's death.
Sunday was now a day of fulfilling obligations. Justin called his sister at 10:00 every Saturday morning, and they watched an episode of Spongebob SquarePants together. Justin tried to draw her out about her new school and life with his father, but she rarely had much to say about that. Craig Taylor had yet to get on the phone, not even to discuss issues of the estate. Those inquiries were always handled through an attorney.
Later in the day, Justin would sift through sympathy cards and gifts to his mother's memorial fund, then write thank-you notes to the donors. Jennifer had lost a brother to leukemia when she was young, and Justin chose to dedicate her memorial fund to several cancer charities. Justin made detailed notes of who donated what, then he mailed the list, along with the cards and condolences to his sister. He hoped as Molly grew older she would appreciate having that connection to her mother.
The cards and donations were now coming in more sporadically, but Sunday still seemed to be a day colored with an extra tinge of sadness.
One cold, rainy Sunday shortly after Brian Kinney made an appearance in their living room, Dan strolled into the media room eating an apple. "That was Ken. He and Jeff are barbecuing tonight if we're interested. Mom's ordering in from Pizza World. What sounds good?"
Justin said nothing as he sat there fingering a sympathy card.
"J, 'd'you hear me? Ken and Jeff's or Mom and Dad's?" Justin still didn't answer. Dan nudged him slightly with his hip. "What's up?"
Justin shook his head to clear the cobwebs and looked up at Dan with an apologetic smile. "Brian donated twenty-five hundred dollars to my mom's memorial fund," he said. "He must have gone back and found the obituary."
Dan read Brian's handwritten note over Justin's shoulder. The fierce way you care is a testament to your mother.
That sentiment was over the top as far as Dan was concerned. He'd always found Jennifer to be very reserved. That she loved Justin and wanted him to be happy was obvious, but there was a remoteness about her. She was gracious, always impeccably polite, but it was without an excessive amount of warmth.
Of course, much of that was Justin's doing. He was prickly with Jennifer, irritated at her attempts to mother him; irritated at himself for still valuing her opinion, especially when it didn't coincide with his own.
He wasn't quite through that phase of separating from his parents and their influence. Dan hadn't been particularly close with his own parents when he was Justin's age. It was only after he'd been out on his own for a few years that he'd grown to appreciate his parents, one adult to another.
It was a luxury Justin would never have and an additional source of guilt he certainly didn't need.
The day of her accident, Jennifer had invited Justin to lunch. She had to pick up a painting she'd had framed at a shop near the CM campus, and since she was in the neighborhood she wanted to visit with Justin, too. Justin hadn't felt like going, so he declined, telling his mom he would pick up her picture and bring it over to her place the next day. He'd jokingly said that if Jennifer were to make brunch, he guessed he'd stay to eat it. She'd told him to bring Dan and then rang off.
Three hours later, Jennifer made a left turn at the intersection of her neighborhood grocery store and was struck broadside by a pick-up truck.
And now, Justin would forever deal with the ramifications of that careless split-second.
Dan gently rubbed his lover's back, unsure why Brian's donation was so perplexing to Justin. "Well, that was nice of him, right?" Dan said.
"Yeah," Justin agreed. "I just...don't know what to say to him."
Dan took a seat on the couch. "What do you mean? You're not going to give it back, are you?"
"Oh, no, huh uh," Justin said vaguely. "It's just...the thank you note. It sounds dumb. Generic." He handed the note to Dan.
Brian,
Thank you for the generous donation to my mother's memorial fund. The money will be used to fund cancer research as well as provide housing and other support for families dealing with the disease.
Best regards,
Justin
"That's fine," Dan said. It was generic, but what else was there to say?
Justin shrugged and sat down next to Dan, pulling Dan's arm around him which made Dan chuckle and tighten his hold for a second.
"It'll piss him off," Justin said, resting his head on Dan's shoulder.
Irritated at Brian's imagined upset, Dan snorted derisively. "What are you supposed to say? Dear Brian, you and your 12-inch cock are to be commended for your stunning display of selfless generosity..."
Justin turned to nuzzle Dan's neck. His chuff of laughter tickled the skin there. "You're getting warmer," he said dryly.
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The One Where Justin's With Another Guy, and Brian Interferes, Part 3A
Before Jennifer Taylor died, Sunday was their day of sloth. Dan got up early and ran then woke Justin with a decadent breakfast-omelets or ginger pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, sometimes French toast. Justin staggered downstairs without fail just as the coffee finished brewing. They traded sections of the Sunday New York Times and bumbled their way through the crossword puzzle.
Dan watched football or baseball or basketball, hockey or soccer or lacrosse, while Justin studied and sketched and made fun of Dan's butch obsession with sports, prompting Dan to demonstrate various moves and holds he'd used when he'd wrestled in high school.
There was plenty of time for fucking around and napping and more fucking around.
If they hadn't managed to finagle a dinner invitation out of anyone, Dan often put together an impressive spread, then declared Justin responsible for all of the remaining meals that week. Sometimes there was a small, quiet dinner at Jennifer's condo, and sometimes they made an appearance at the Forrester Family Dinner.
Dan now found it laughable that he'd been so hesitant to expose Justin to his family. It made sense enough early on. Charlie's reaction to Justin's age was a good indication of how the rest of the family would fall in, and Dan didn't particularly relish suffering the incessant jibes of his siblings and their spouses.
But there was more to it than that. While Dan would never characterize Justin as shy, he was quiet, and having spent an evening or two around the dinner table with Jennifer, Dan was sure his family would scare the shit out of Justin. An unheard request to pass the butter could segue into a blistering screaming match about the one time when Kate was 12 and Dan was six, and he scalped all of her Barbies and hung them by individual nooses from her bedroom window.
And although Dan and Charlie didn't have any kids, between Dan's two sisters and his other brother, there were nine kids, and most of them seemed to bring a friend or two with them to dinner. The house was always full, the walls reverberating with shouts of laughter and outrage, children crying, siblings fighting, parents refereeing.
But Justin actually enjoyed the chaos of those dinners. While he was still hesitant to join in the insanity, he appreciated it all-from the fawning interest of Dan's sisters and sisters-in-law to the crying baby to Charlie's oft-repeated observation that Justin was a mere three years older than their nephew Chas.
The boisterous Forrester Family Dinner became a great antidote to the melancholy of Justin's Sundays after Jennifer's death.
Sunday was now a day of fulfilling obligations. Justin called his sister at 10:00 every Saturday morning, and they watched an episode of Spongebob SquarePants together. Justin tried to draw her out about her new school and life with his father, but she rarely had much to say about that. Craig Taylor had yet to get on the phone, not even to discuss issues of the estate. Those inquiries were always handled through an attorney.
Later in the day, Justin would sift through sympathy cards and gifts to his mother's memorial fund, then write thank-you notes to the donors. Jennifer had lost a brother to leukemia when she was young, and Justin chose to dedicate her memorial fund to several cancer charities. Justin made detailed notes of who donated what, then he mailed the list, along with the cards and condolences to his sister. He hoped as Molly grew older she would appreciate having that connection to her mother.
The cards and donations were now coming in more sporadically, but Sunday still seemed to be a day colored with an extra tinge of sadness.
One cold, rainy Sunday shortly after Brian Kinney made an appearance in their living room, Dan strolled into the media room eating an apple. "That was Ken. He and Jeff are barbecuing tonight if we're interested. Mom's ordering in from Pizza World. What sounds good?"
Justin said nothing as he sat there fingering a sympathy card.
"J, 'd'you hear me? Ken and Jeff's or Mom and Dad's?" Justin still didn't answer. Dan nudged him slightly with his hip. "What's up?"
Justin shook his head to clear the cobwebs and looked up at Dan with an apologetic smile. "Brian donated twenty-five hundred dollars to my mom's memorial fund," he said. "He must have gone back and found the obituary."
Dan read Brian's handwritten note over Justin's shoulder. The fierce way you care is a testament to your mother.
That sentiment was over the top as far as Dan was concerned. He'd always found Jennifer to be very reserved. That she loved Justin and wanted him to be happy was obvious, but there was a remoteness about her. She was gracious, always impeccably polite, but it was without an excessive amount of warmth.
Of course, much of that was Justin's doing. He was prickly with Jennifer, irritated at her attempts to mother him; irritated at himself for still valuing her opinion, especially when it didn't coincide with his own.
He wasn't quite through that phase of separating from his parents and their influence. Dan hadn't been particularly close with his own parents when he was Justin's age. It was only after he'd been out on his own for a few years that he'd grown to appreciate his parents, one adult to another.
It was a luxury Justin would never have and an additional source of guilt he certainly didn't need.
The day of her accident, Jennifer had invited Justin to lunch. She had to pick up a painting she'd had framed at a shop near the CM campus, and since she was in the neighborhood she wanted to visit with Justin, too. Justin hadn't felt like going, so he declined, telling his mom he would pick up her picture and bring it over to her place the next day. He'd jokingly said that if Jennifer were to make brunch, he guessed he'd stay to eat it. She'd told him to bring Dan and then rang off.
Three hours later, Jennifer made a left turn at the intersection of her neighborhood grocery store and was struck broadside by a pick-up truck.
And now, Justin would forever deal with the ramifications of that careless split-second.
Dan gently rubbed his lover's back, unsure why Brian's donation was so perplexing to Justin. "Well, that was nice of him, right?" Dan said.
"Yeah," Justin agreed. "I just...don't know what to say to him."
Dan took a seat on the couch. "What do you mean? You're not going to give it back, are you?"
"Oh, no, huh uh," Justin said vaguely. "It's just...the thank you note. It sounds dumb. Generic." He handed the note to Dan.
Brian,
Thank you for the generous donation to my mother's memorial fund. The money will be used to fund cancer research as well as provide housing and other support for families dealing with the disease.
Best regards,
Justin
"That's fine," Dan said. It was generic, but what else was there to say?
Justin shrugged and sat down next to Dan, pulling Dan's arm around him which made Dan chuckle and tighten his hold for a second.
"It'll piss him off," Justin said, resting his head on Dan's shoulder.
Irritated at Brian's imagined upset, Dan snorted derisively. "What are you supposed to say? Dear Brian, you and your 12-inch cock are to be commended for your stunning display of selfless generosity..."
Justin turned to nuzzle Dan's neck. His chuff of laughter tickled the skin there. "You're getting warmer," he said dryly.
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