Author’s note: This is sort of a sequel to my story, The Garden Party. Once again, I took a line from the first season 3 promo teaser and created a scenario for it. I’m hoping to continue the series with at least one more story.

The Visit

Of course, I argued with Daphne when she said I should go after Brian. Again. ‘I’m not some lovesick seventeen-year-old, chasing the first guy I ever slept with,’ I announced, with as much dignity as I could summon.

She laughed. She was trying to stifle it, but she couldn’t. I didn’t want to believe that my best friend thought my situation was funny, and I said so.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, when she could control herself again. I was unconvinced. I turned away, folding my arms across my chest. I wanted her to know I was annoyed.

‘Don’t be mad, Justin,’ she put her hand on my arm and tried to pull me back around to face her.

‘And why shouldn’t I be?’ I glanced around. She still had a huge smile on her face.

‘I’m not laughing at you - I swear. I just had a conversation with a girl in one of my classes about relationships. She said she thought it would be easier if she was gay, that ‘those people’ don’t have all the problems we do.’

‘I hope you told her how wrong she is.’ I was beginning to see the humor in what she was saying.

‘I used you and Brian as an example of a couple who belong together, but who just can’t seem to work through the details.’

‘Will you stop saying we belong together?’ I shot back. ‘It’s over, and you’re just going to have to get used to it.’

She smiled mysteriously. ‘I will if you will.’

*&*&*&*&*

I didn’t see Daphne for a couple of days, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said. If there had been anyone else I could have talked to about it, I would have. But there wasn’t.

In the past, I could have talked to Debbie, but it felt awkward between us now. I knew that she knew about the fight Michael and I had had and I didn’t want to make her choose sides.

In times past, I might have tried to talk to Emmett. Almost from the beginning, I felt comfortable with him and I’d asked his advice about stuff. Since he and Ted had become lovers, he’d started acting weird. Besides, I practically never saw either of them any more.

So, I stopped by Daphne’s dorm room, hoping she’d be there by herself, but she wasn’t. She and her roommate were both talking at the same time and they sounded excited.

‘What’s going on?’ I was curious.

‘Our parents are letting us get an apartment.’ Their faces were glowing. ‘We’re moving in a couple of weeks.’

‘That’s great, guys.’ I was happy for them.

‘And you’ll always have a place to go, when you’re having boy trouble.’ Ashlee was laughing when she said it, but she seemed to be sincere.

‘Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,’ I tried to keep my tone light. ‘I might take you up on it one day.’

‘Did you want something, Justin?’ Daphne could always read my mind.

‘No,’ I picked up my backpack. ‘I just stopped by on my way to class.’

She walked to the door with me. When we were out of earshot of the roommate, she looked serious. ‘Okay. Spill.’

I didn’t even try to pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about. ‘I was thinking about what you said…’

Her face lit up. ‘About going after Brian? I knew it!’ She was almost crowing, and we both laughed. ‘What’re you gonna do?’ she whispered.

‘Well…’ I was still trying to decide if this was a good idea. ‘I kept thinking that we’d run into each other… maybe in the diner…’

‘You haven’t seen him there?’

I shook my head. ‘Maybe he knows what my schedule is and he’s avoiding me…’

‘Or maybe he’s been busy with work.’

I threw her a look. ‘Please don’t be logical when I’m freaking out…’

She laughed again. ‘You are *not* freaking out.’ She thought for a few seconds. ‘What about Babylon? You haven’t seen him there?’

‘I haven’t *been* there.’ She was looking at me, like she was expecting further explanation. ‘Ethan doesn’t like it.’

‘Since when do you let someone tell you where you can and cannot go?’

‘I don’t.’ I wanted this subject to be closed, but she kept looking at me. ‘I don’t wanna talk about Ethan, okay?’

‘Okay.’ She humored me. ‘So… what’re you gonna do?’

‘I still have some stuff there - at the loft…’ I couldn’t look at her. ‘Could… you go with me?’

‘Justin! You don’t need a chaperone!’

‘I know.’ I looked up. ‘I actually have to pick up books and I need to put them in your car.’

She was quiet for a few seconds. ‘That’s where I’ll be - *in* the car.’ She looked at me expectantly.

‘Okay,’ I agreed. I hoped it would be enough to know that I had a friend close by when I faced Brian again.

*&*&*&*&*

Over the weekend, I thought a lot about when would be the best time to go over to the loft. It had to be a total surprise; there was no telling what he might do if he had any warning.

I decided to go over after work on Monday. Since he didn’t get home at the same time every day, the only thing we could do was park down the street and watch for him.

Daphne and I said little as we waited. I was having serious second thoughts about doing this at all and, as usual, she was picking up on my mood.

It was almost seven when we saw the black Jeep turn the corner onto Tremont and pull up in front of the building. He was alone - thank God for small favors - as he carried a large briefcase inside. Even at the end of the day, he looked like he’d just dressed and was going *to* work, rather than coming home. Every hair was in place and there was no way to see, from his expression, what kind of day he’d had.

‘What’re you waiting for?’ Daphne was elbowing me. ‘Go on in.’

I tried to look like I knew what I was doing. ‘Will you stop rushing me?’ I was staring out the window. ‘I want to give him five minutes before I go in.’

‘It’s been *fifteen* minutes.’ I thought she was lying, but I didn’t argue. I took a deep breath and opened the door. ‘Justin?’ I looked back at my friend. ‘Do you want me to drive you to the door?’

‘Nah. I’d rather walk.’ I paused to look at her again. ‘Wish me luck?’

She smiled reassuringly. ‘Just be yourself and don’t worry.’ I got out of the car before she could say anything else.

I try not to think about anything as I trudge into the building. I walk past the elevator and into the stairwell.

The door to Brian’s apartment is just ahead. I can still turn around - no one, except Daphne, has seen me yet.

No, I tell myself. If I leave now, I’ll always wonder what would have happened if I’d gone through with it.

I force my face into immobility as I fish the key out of my pocket. I should have sent it back to him already. Maybe he doesn’t know I still have it.

Taking a deep breath, I slide the door and peek inside.

It’s completely silent - no music, no sound. I don’t think I’ve ever known it to be this quiet.

I spot him immediately. He’s sitting, facing away from the door. His head turns so that I can see his profile, but he’s not looking at me. He doesn’t look surprised, or happy or angry or annoyed…

That’s when I freeze. I can’t take a step inside and I can’t leave. I just stand there. Am I waiting on him to tell me to get the fuck out of there? Am I hoping he’ll invite me inside and ask me why it took me so long to come back?

I don’t know what I’m thinking; there are a thousand thoughts swirling around in my head. I can’t let him see how thrown I am. I finally manage to take a step inside and close the door. ‘I-I still have some stuff here…’ I’m hoping that he’ll get it and invite me in. Or tell me to leave. Any reaction would be okay, as long as he doesn’t ignore me. I don’t think I can handle it if he acts as if I’m not there.

He stands up but he still isn’t looking at me. He has on his suit and he looks amazing in it. He’s the picture of elegance and poise and sophistication and I know I would do anything he asked me to. If only he’d just…

‘Well, as long as you’re here you might as well take off your clothes.’

Anything but that.

My first instinct is to yell ‘fuck you!’ and leave. But I don’t. That’s what he thinks I’ll do – it’s probably what he *wants* me to do.

‘Brian.’ I stand there, facing him, hoping my voice sounds calmer to him than it does to me. ‘I-I didn’t come here for that--’

‘You came to get the rest of your shit. I heard you.’ He finally looks at me and I notice the Jim Beam bottle in his left hand. ‘Well?’ He makes a sweeping gesture with his right hand, toward the bedroom. ‘What are you waiting for? Do you expect me to help you carry it out?’ He’s slurring his words a little. I can only guess how much he’s had to drink in the few minutes since he’d arrived home.

‘N-no, I can get it.’ I walk quickly to the bedroom and open the closet door. There are only three boxes left in the back; I pull them out into the room.

Brian had sat back down while I was in the bedroom. I carry the boxes to the door and I’m just about to open it. I look back at him sitting there, drinking. He’s staring into the distance.

I clear my throat. ‘Okay, I’m gonna…’ I’m still staring - I can’t seem to take my eyes off him. ‘Listen…’ I take a step toward where he’s sitting but he doesn’t react. Can he hear me? Is he listening? Does he care what I have to say?

It doesn’t matter. I’m determined to say what I came here to say. I begin again. ‘Brian, I’m really sorry--’

‘Sorry?’ I feel his eyes on me; it reminds me of the night we met. I was standing next to a lamppost on Liberty Avenue when I felt eyes staring at me - boring into me. I looked up and there he was…

Once again, I look into his eyes. His face is unreadable. ‘What do you have to be sorry for? You did exactly what you should have done. You have nothing to apologize for.’

‘I meant I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.’ I shook my head. ‘I never meant for anyone to get hurt…’ I can’t believe how lame that sounds. I expect him to laugh at me and tell me not to be such a princess.

But he doesn’t call me a princess or a twat, or anything else. Once again, he turns so that his back is to the door - to me. Once again, it’s as if I’m not there.

I’m not sure how long I stand there, staring at him. In my mind, I picture myself running over to kneel at his feet, to beg his forgiveness and ask him to let me come home. I promise him that I’ll never complain about the tricks or the drugs and I’ll never expect him to do a single romantic thing, ever. I pull him out of his chair, undress him and let him fuck me right there on the floor.

But I don’t do any of those things. All I do is turn around, open the door and leave.