Author’s note: This is the next installment in my series titled ‘My So-Called Life’. It deals with spoilers for season 3 and it’s written entirely in Justin’s POV. As a huge Justin fan, my most fervent hope is that he is allowed to have some dignity during the season 3 and this is my attempt to bestow some on him. The previous stories in this series are ‘The Garden Party’, ‘The Visit’, ‘The Confrontation’, ‘The Recital’ and ‘The Move’.

The Reunion

by Cathy

Despite my reservations, things worked out okay between Daphne and me. Ashlee spent most of the time with her boyfriend, which probably made things better. During the next week, most of our free time was spent moving our belongings from the dorm to the apartment. While we worked, we spent hours talking about everything. It was just like old times.

It was the end of the week before we got everything arranged at the new place. When I’d gotten my computer hooked up, I spent a few hours scrolling through all the emails I’d accumulated. I found a disturbing note from the registrar’s office at PIFA. My bill for next semester’s fees had been returned for incorrect address. It occurred to me that I’d never filed a change of address when I moved out of the loft.

‘Shit!’ I whispered, as I shut the computer down and undressed for bed.

I couldn’t go to sleep, though. My tuition was due by Monday - four days away.

There was only one thing to do.

I showed up at his office the next day, just before lunch. His secretary looked up when I walked up to her desk. ‘Justin!’

‘Hey, Ms. Davis. How are you doing?’

‘Good.’ She smiled. ‘I haven’t seen you since… It’s been a long time. You’ve grown up.’

‘Yeah,’ I smiled back, trying not to show how nervous I was. ‘I-is my dad in?’

‘He’s in a meeting,’ she lowered her voice, ‘but he ought to be through in a few minutes.’

I was fighting the urge to run away. ‘Does he have lunch plans?’

She shook her head. ‘Why don’t you go over to Charley’s across the street? I’ll send him over there when he’s free.’

‘Thanks.’ I was happy to make my escape.

I drank three glasses of water while I waited. I was contemplating going to the bathroom when he walked in. ‘Patricia told me you were here; I’m surprised to see you.’

‘I’m a little surprised to *be* here.’ I said, honestly. ‘Do you have a few minutes for me?’

He sat down slowly and motioned for the waitress. ‘I have to eat lunch, Justin. Have you ordered?’

‘No.’ I pretended to be absorbed in reading the menu.

He ordered for both of us, just like he did when we used to go there together. I opened my mouth to object, but closed it again. As a matter of fact, I didn’t say anything for several minutes. The silence was becoming awkward. ‘How’s business?’ I couldn’t imagine anything more trite.

‘You didn’t come all the way over to this part of town to ask me about business.’ He didn’t sound mad - just impatient. I remember that he sounded like that a lot through the years. ‘What is it that you want, Justin?’

I suddenly didn’t want to talk about what I came here to talk about. ‘Why do I have to want anything? Can’t we just talk?’

‘Okay.’ He attacked his salad, which had just arrived. ‘We can chat, as long as you get to the point before dessert.’

Okay, so that was how it was going to be. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I ought to cut my losses and walk out. But I didn’t.

‘Did you hear that Molly’s taken up the flute?’ I was determined to make this meeting work.

‘Yes, she told me last weekend.’ I think he actually smiled. ‘She wants to be in the band - I didn’t know middle schools had bands.’

I laughed. ‘Mom thinks it’s because of a boy.’

‘What?’ He looked distressed. ‘She’s too young to be interested in boys.’

‘I agree. She’s growing up too soon.’

He was quiet for a few seconds. ‘You should spend more time with your mother. She worries about you.’

‘Did she tell you that?’

‘No.’ He paused again. ‘Are you still living with… him?’

‘He has a name, dad.’ Why was I being nasty about this?

‘Brian Kinney. I remember.’

‘And the answer is no, we’re not together any more.’ I waited for him to ask where I was living, but he didn’t say anything. ‘Actually, I’m living with Daphne.’ He looked surprised. ‘We’re just roommates - I’m not going straight or anything.’ I saw the pained expression on his face and I was immediately sorry I’d tried to make such a pitiful joke.

I was saved from an apology by the arrival of our lunch. We spent the next few minutes eating and not talking. He was the one who finally spoke, ‘Are you going to tell me why you’re here?’

‘Okay.’ I was ready to give up on trying to have a conversation with him. I wasn’t even sure whose fault it was. ‘I want to talk to about a loan…’

He looked away. ‘I should have guessed it had something to do with money.’ He was reacting exactly as I expected. I decided to stop trying to be pleasant; I should just talk fast and get it over with.

‘Just so you know, I applied for student loans and grants, but they use your salary in the equations, and you make too much money. I can’t go to a bank, ‘cause I don’t have any collateral. I’ve tried everything I can think of…’ I wondered if I’d said enough, or too much. He seemed to be deep in thought. ‘Dad?’ He looked at me.

‘I was just thinking… You seem to be making progress. The last time your tuition came due, you sent your mother to ask me for the money--’

‘I didn’t *send* her. I didn’t even know about that until afterwards.’ I probably shouldn’t have argued about this, but I couldn’t let it go unchallenged.

‘Okay, if you say so…’ I couldn’t believe he was actually backing down. I was emboldened. ‘Listen, I’m not asking you to pay my rent or buy my clothes or books. Is it unreasonable to ask you to help me with tuition?’

‘Why can’t you get a job? Or sell your art? Isn’t there a market for drawings of naked men any more?’

I thought he was baiting me, and I was determined not to lose my temper. ‘I already *have* a job, working at the diner, but I don’t make enough to pay for school. And I don’t just draw naked men…’ I didn’t pursue that thought.

Once again, he didn’t answer right away. When he spoke, his voice sounded strained. ‘I don’t understand how you can expect me to pay for you to go to a school I didn’t want you to go to in the first place. Can you explain that to me?'

I dropped my fork. I don’t know why I was surprised that he’d brought this up, but I was. He looked at me and I knew he really expected an answer. ‘This is about Dartmouth, isn’t it?’ He didn’t answer and I continued, ‘Can’t you understand that I couldn’t go there? That I could never wear a suit and carry a briefcase?’

‘But it’s okay to wear faded jeans and torn t-shirts? And to turn your back on any chance of having a successful career?’

‘I don’t have to get an MBA from Dartmouth to have a successful career.’

‘Dartmouth was good enough for me.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I’m not going to say bad things about Dartmouth - I know you got a great education there. But it’s not me. My art is me - it’s who I am.’

‘Don’t you think I know that? I was there when you were growing up, you know. I had as many of your drawings hanging in my office as your mother had on the refrigerator. I would never ask you to give all that up.’

‘You wouldn’t?’ I was confused.

‘No. Dartmouth has art classes. You might even swing a minor in art or art history…’

I couldn’t believe we were still discussing a school other than PIFA,. Once again, I refused to back down. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not going to change schools. Not for you. Not for anyone. This is my life, dad. I’m the only person I have to satisfy.’ I was staring at him when I said that. I wanted him to know I meant every word I was saying.

‘Well, that sounds like the Justin Taylor *I* know. The Justin Taylor who abandoned his family and went to live with a thirty-year-old man.’

‘I didn’t abandon anyone!’ I was raising my voice, but I didn’t care. ‘You were the one who told me I had to go home with you or not go home at all!’

‘It wasn’t a difficult choice--’

‘You’re right about that--’

‘I was asking you to come back home, where you belonged.’

That was it! I threw down my napkin and stood up. ‘What you were doing was demanding that I lie about who I was. You wanted me to go home with you and pretend that nothing had happened, that I was still the same clueless teenager I was before. You expected me to go back into the closet, because you were embarrassed for anyone to know that your son has sex with men!’

‘Justin!’ My father whispered loudly; he was glancing around at the inhabitants of the nearby tables. They were staring and trying to pretend that they weren’t.

‘See?’ I looked around. ‘I’m embarrassing you right now, aren’t I?’ I took a step toward him and lowered my voice. ‘Well, I refuse to be ashamed of who I am. It’s nobody’s business who I sleep with, not even yours. And, if you think that giving me money for school means you’d have the right to tell me what to do, that’s not going to happen.’ I paused for several seconds, to make sure it didn’t look like I was running away. ‘I guess this meeting was a mistake.’ I started to leave.

‘Wait.’ I stopped. ‘Let me think about it this weekend. I’ll call you on Monday and we’ll talk, okay?’

I didn’t move. ‘The last day to pay is Monday. After that, there’s a late fee.’ I tried to sound calm.

He nodded, thoughtfully. ‘I’m going away for the weekend, but I’ll call you Sunday night.’

‘Thank you.’ Suddenly, I couldn’t look at him.

‘I’ll pay the check.’ He reached for his wallet. ‘You’d better get going.’

*&*&*&*&*

I tried to keep myself busy all weekend with school work - I had a couple of big projects due. I didn’t want to remember what had happened between my dad and me at the restaurant and I couldn’t think about what I was going to do if he didn’t come through with the money for my tuition. I guess it was a good thing that Daph was with Greg all day Sunday - I definitely wasn’t in the mood to be sociable, not even with her.

By the time I went to bed Sunday night, it was after midnight. My dad hadn’t called, and I wasn’t particularly surprised.

*&*&*&*&*

I decided to stop by the registrar’s office before class Monday morning. There was no use putting off the inevitable.

The middle-aged woman at the desk ignored me for as long as she could, despite the fact that I cleared my throat twice. ‘Student number?’ I guess names are optional. I gave her my social security number and she punched it into the computer. A minute later, she walked over to the printer, pulled off a printout and brought it to me.

I looked at it. ‘This is a receipt.’ I kept reading it, hoping that I could understand why I was holding a piece of paper that said my tuition for the next semester was paid in full.

‘You didn’t come by for a copy?’ She looked confused.

‘No.’ I sounded like I didn’t know what I was talking about, which I didn’t. ‘Actually, yes. I did.’ She turned back to what she was doing when I walked in. ‘Excuse me.’ She looked up again. ‘Could you tell me who…? *How* this was paid?’ I waved the receipt in the air.

She punched keys again. ‘It was paid with cash, and I don’t have a record of who paid it.’ She stared at me. ‘Was there some mistake?’

‘No,’ I said quickly, lest she get back on the computer and give my money to someone else. ‘Thank you for your help.’ I ran out of the office before she had a chance to react.

As I headed to class, I couldn’t help smiling. My dad had come through for me, even though I didn’t have a clue that he would. Or why.

Why had he given me all that shit about Dartmouth? Why had he drug up all the past stuff about when he kicked me out of the house?

Had I really changed his mind by what I’d said to him?

Doubtful.

Had he felt sorry for me?

Probably.

In the end, it didn’t matter. I’d bargained myself into another semester of school, and that was all that mattered.