Chapter
29 ?? Silent night
?Ha!?
When Justin woke up on December the 24th?
it was 6.03 a.m., and he had to laugh because he felt so happy. It
was the most wonderful day he could think about and he thought it even smelled
much better than all the other days. Like almonds and red candles.
With
a bright smile, he shifted around on the mattress, kneeled down for a moment to
look around, and then climbed out of the white bed to pad over to the window.
Thick,
fluffy snow flakes danced in front of the pane but Justin wasn?t surprised.
Today was Christmas Eve, after all, and it always had to snow on Christmas. And
there would be fried bird to eat without head and feathers but with mashed
chestnuts in its belly. And tasty Pudding with glittering money treasure in its
middle.
?Yes.?
He
scratched his temple as he thought about it. There were fourteen pennies in the
drawer and of course tonight he would have?
??five?
fifteen.?
He
sighed and leaned his forehead against the cold pane. He really would?ve
preferred for the beautiful prince to come now and climb up the grey tower to
rescue him. Then they would hold hands and walk across the street and sleep
over in the castle in Prian?s bed. For ever and ever and hundred years.
His
belly felt so warm as he imagined it and he pressed both hands flat against his
window pane with a small whimper. ?Yes my? of course my Prian.? Prian Kinney. With
a big P like Prince and Pudding.
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?
?Hhh??
At 8.14 a.m. on December the 24th, Brian was rudely awakened by the
vigorous ringing of his door bell. And before he even had a chance to form a
sound of protest or lift his tousled head off a Justin-scented pillow, two
little Spiderman sneakers trampled loudly up the stairs.
?Daddy,
Daddy!? called Gus, running through the corridor and pushing his father?s
bedroom door open. ?Mommy says you have to wake up now!? He bounced towards the
big bed with four kangaroo jumps and lifted up an edge of the blanket, under
which he presumed his daddy was hidden. ?It?s Christmas Eve!?
Brian
groaned and squinted in the direction of his alarm clock. ?It?s not any eve.
It?s 8.16 in the morning. Come back after sunset.?
?Daddy!?
The boy giggled and poked a finger in his father?s eye when it fell shut again.
?Stop making fun!?
Brian
groaned again and wasn?t quite sure what his son was talking about.
?Daddy!?
Gus jumped up and down twice on the thick, white carpet. ?Stop sleeping! Aunty
Emmett said we have to bake cookies for Santa Claus.? He bent forward to peer
closely in his daddy?s face. ?He comes tonight. Through the chimney.?
?Not
when he eats all those damn cookies.? Brian assumed. ?He?ll be too fat and
won?t fit through it.?
Gus
giggled again. ?Daddy! That?s not true! Mommy said he can suck his stomach in.?
Brian
blinked his tired eyes open. This was apparently one of those arguments he couldn?t
win, no matter what he said. But he tried anyway. ?Men don?t bake cookies.?
?Why
not??
?Because
they?re too busy doing manly things.? Mister Kinney rubbed a hand over his
face. ?Like kickboxing or driving trucks.?
?Yes,
we play with the trucks!? The kid jumped again excitedly, but this time towards
the open door and then loudly down the stairs. ?I brought four in my bag!? he
called out informatively. ?You can play with the blue one, Daddy!?
Brian
groaned a third time and sunk weakly down into his pillows, while seeing a
clear picture forming in front of his eyes, of a certain blonde woman with his
hands strangling her neck.
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Blake
cleared his throat in front of door 4.11 and tried for an unconcerned smile
while he unlocked it.
?Hello
frog.? He entered the small room and found a quietly giggling Justin near the
window. ?How are you today? Have you finished your breakfast??
?Yes.?
Justin liked toast with raspberry jelly.
?That?s
good. You?re going to see Brian today, right? Visit him for Christmas??
?Yes.?
Justin laughed.
?That?s
good.? It was, because Dr. Marcus refused to suspend his colleague Ethan during
the understaffed Holidays and? just because. Blake cleared his throat again.
?Listen? I thought maybe you?d want to come with me to the art room and make a
present for Brian. You know? you could give it to him for Christmas.?
?Yes.?
Justin felt butterflies in his belly. Of course he could give to the prince ?
??
a book.? With blue wrapping and a pretty ribbon.
?Yes,
maybe.? Blake held his hand out, smiling slightly when the boy took it after a
moment. He looked happy.? ?You?re
looking forward to seeing Brian again, huh??
Justin
didn?t say anything as he left his tower room with Plake. But he smiled and
hummed a quiet melody that almost sounded like Jingle Bells.
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?Would
you quit your fucking singing already!? Brian turned around sharply, and
growled at his servant. ?I?m on the phone!?
?Well,?
Emmett said with a patient smile towards the little boy who was sitting on the
counter top next to the microwave. ?Maybe your dad needs another cup of coffee,
what do you think??
?I
can make it!? Gus offered and raised a finger as if he were in school.
?Great!?
Emmett said. ?I?ll get the psycho-stimulants and you get the sugar.?
?Okay!?
The child answered enthusiastically. ?He can use my Scooby Doo cup!?
?And
wouldn?t he just love that?? The house maid nodded, with his head in one of the
lower cupboards to fetch the box with the coffee filters, and ?Oww!? jumped
then when his boss passed behind him, slapping his butt.
?Hey what?s all that noise?? Gunn leaned back in his
comfortable leather chair, changing the phone to his other ear. ?Full house
during the holidays? Family visits??
?I
don?t do holidays.? Brian clarified as he left the kitchen heading towards his
desk in the living room. ?Or family visits.?
?Of course not. Tell your son I said hello.?
Brian
glared at no one in particular.
Gunn
looked at the screen of his computer, where the picture of a young blond man
was opened. ?Same to Justin. He looks? more than worth it. All the efforts I
mean.?
?Yeah.?
Brian said, glancing out of the terrace doors. ?He is.?
?What?s he doing in this picture??
Mister
Kinney was silent for a moment and pulled his lips inwards, before he calmly
answered. ?Watching a pear.? The only one on a stunted tree. For two hours.
Gunn
nodded. ?Listen man, I?ve talked to his current custodian and the
Surrogate's court.? He opened a few files. ?And it doesn?t look bad. Not
at all. It?s just a protracted process.?
Brian
wetted his lips briefly. ?So my chances aren?t bad??
?No. The clinic where
he lives at the moment has an ambiguous reputation, was sued three times in the
last 48 month, and his family assigned all rights and duties to a third party,
when he was practically still an infant.?
Brian
nodded, not saying anything.
?But the fact is: The
kid still costs them money.?
?His
father pays for the clinic??
?He has to. The kid is on his health insurance. Neither are eagerly
willing to waste money.?
?Hh.?
Brian furrowed his brows, picking with his index finger at the edge of his
desk. ?So, what are the chances for us in negotiating with his father??
Gunn
grinned. ?I?m meeting him for a late lunch.?
?Today?
In Delmont??
?But
of course. You told me, and I quote, to hurry the fuck up. And you?re paying
good money.?
?I
did.? He did.
?Well then, last chance before I?m off to the airport: Are you sure
about all this? You want full custodianship of Justin Taylor??
With
one flick of his finger, Brian opened a picture on his screen and a small smile
tugged at the right corner of his mouth. He hoped that fucking tree would have
a new pear next summer. ?Call me when you?ve talked to him.?
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Justin
liked it in the art room today. There were no other people and also no Miss
Eterson. Just him and Plake and many empty tables and he could choose any seat
he wanted.
He
liked one table at the window the best, sat down and glanced out at the white
snow, while wrapping a blond hair strand around his finger.
?Okay,?
Blake stood beside him, digging through a big box with wool-, cork-, leather-,
and wood remnants, small buttons, colourful paper strips and little Styrofoam
balls. ?I thought maybe,? he examined a piece of soft, black leather cord. ?We
could try to make some kind of jewelry for him. You know?? He placed the
leather cord on the table and started to pick a couple of smooth, shiny white
shells out of the box. ?A bracelet or something.? He looked at? the boy for approval. ?What do you think? It
would be really personal.?
?Oooh.?
Justin reached for the wonderful little way stones in Plake?s hand and touched
one of them carefully. They were a bit broken, but nevertheless very pretty.
?These
are cowry shells from the ocean.? Blake took one and pointed to the little
slit. ?See? It?s the house of a marine snail. It lived in here.?
It did? Justin looked at the small, white shell closely. He wondered where the
snail had gone.
?It?s
pretty don?t you think??
Justin?s
eyes wandered up to the ceiling. He thought the snail houses were rather pretty.
?You
want to use them to make a bracelet for Brian? He can wear it on his wrist.?
?Yeah.?
Justin rocked gently back and forth on his chair. He liked Prian?s wrists. They
were soft and warm and smelled so nice.
?Okay.?
Blake smiled, put the box aside, sat down next to Justin and spread all the
shells and the leather cord on the table. He wrinkled his forehead. ?Now we
just have to figure out how to do it.?
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?Daddy!?
Gus called from his place on the backseat and craned his neck so he could see
his father better.
?Yes!?
Brian gritted his teeth and tapped his foot lightly on the gas, while steering
the car at snail-speed through the pre-holiday stop and go traffic in Pittsburgh?s
downtown.
?I?m
thirsty.? The boy complained and kicked rhythmically against the back of his
father?s seat. ?Can we go to McDonald?s??
Brian?s
hand shot backwards to capture one Spiderman sneaker in a steel-like grip.
?Stop kicking my seat.?
?But
I?m thirsty!?
?Wait
till we?re at the mall.?
The
child was silent for 52 seconds, before he kicked at his daddy?s seat again.
?Daddy!?
Brian
hit the wheel with his palms. ?What?!?
?Why
do we have to buy Justin?s present at the mall? Santa Claus can bring it.?
?No
he can?t.?
?But
why not??
Brian
changed gears and peered into the rear-view mirror. ?Because Santa Claus only
brings presents for children. Justin is an adult.?
Gus
thought about it for a moment. ?Can we buy a Power Ranger for him??
?No.?
?Donatello??
?No.?
?But
he?s a Ninja Turtle!?
?I
said no.?
Gus
pouted and then kicked the seat again. ?I bet he would like a dog. A black
one.?
Brian
slowed down at the entry of the underground car park. ?No he wouldn?t.?
?A
cat??
?No!?
?A
violin??
?Gus!?
The
boy pouted again.
Brian
called the young lady who stole his parking space a very offensive word, which
was really not appropriate for sonny boy?s innocent ears.
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Half
an hour later, Mister Kinney and son stood at the display of the jeweller on
the third floor of the local shopping centre, to look at a couple of pretty
golden necklaces and matching pendants.??
Gus
didn?t like the idea of buying boring jewelry instead of a puppy very much.
?Daddy?? He tugged at his father?s coat sleeve.
?Hm??
Brian examined a little golden J pendant.????
?What?s
a bitch??
The
salesclerk behind the counter coughed into her fist and turned discreetly away.
Brian
on the other hand remained completely unfazed while looking at a nice, broad
necklace. ?I don?t know.?
?But
you said it in the car.?
?No
I didn?t.?
?But
I heard it!?
?You
heard wrong.? Mister Kinney assured, waving for the salesgirl to get one of the
necklaces out of the showcase. ?I want to see this one.?
?Of
course sir.?
?But
you said bitch to that women with the pink car.? Gus tugged his father?s sleeve
again.
?I
said witch.? Brian told his son and held the jewelry more into the light,
squinting his eyes.
?She
is a witch?? Gus made big eyes.
?Yep.?
Brian nodded and handed the necklace back to the salesgirl. ?In 18 carat gold
with the butterfly pendant.?
?Of
course sir.?
Gus
scratched his temple. ?I didn?t know witches have pink cars.?
?Of
course they have.? Mister Kinney said and pulled out his wallet. ?Just like
Barbie.?
?Hm.?
The child seemed to be satisfied with that explanation.
?Hm.?
Brian too. And even though he?d just spend $1.615 for a lesbionic butterfly
gold necklace, he felt nothing but perfect contentedness and almost something
similar to Christmas joy.
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The
little gift was wrapped in light blue paper, had no ribbon and the words ?Merry
Christmas for Prian? in the self-made card illegibly written with a
dark blue wax crayon.
Justin
held it in his hand as if it were the most precious thing on earth.
Blake
smiled and folded a sweater on Justin?s bed to pack it with the other things in
the boy?s bag. ?He?ll love it.?
?Yes.?
Justin didn?t dare to move his hand and held it slightly outstretched, even as
his eyes wandered to the ceiling.
?What
else do you want me to pack?? The nurse looked around in the small room. ?Your
pajamas??
?Yes.?
Blake
placed the white pajamas on top of the other clothes in the bag. ?Okay, I?ll
leave the zipper open. If you want to take something else with you, you can
pack it before you go.?
?Yes.?
Justin?s belly was all jittery. He really would?ve preferred for the prince to
come now through the tower window.
Blake
looked at him again, and after a moment went to touch his arm. ?Hey frog? I
have to go now.?
?Yes.?
?But
I wish you a very wonderful time with Brian.?
Justin
smiled and started to rock softly back and forth on his feet. ?Yes.?
?Will
he come to pick you up??
?Yes.?
Justin laughed. ?Through the? through the window.?
Blake
smiled and rubbed his thumb over the boy?s wrist. ?I?m sure he?ll be here
soon.?
?Yes.?
?Okay.
I?ll see you in a few days then.?
?Yes.?
Justin sighed.
?Merry
Christmas.? Blake brushed a blond strand behind the young patient?s ear, went
out of room 4.11 at 2.12 p.m. and just as he was about to lock the door, he
heard a faint answer.
?Merry?merry
Christmas.? Wrongly emphasized and monotonous sounding, but the nicest holiday
salutations he?d received for the season.
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Gus
had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the television, but Brian felt oddly
restless especially after wandering around for a while, carrying his
non-ringing telephone. Finally, he walked aimlessly up the stairs.
?Hey.?
He found his maid in one of the guestrooms and leaned against the doorframe to
watch him changing the sheets.
Emmett
looked at his boss suspiciously and after one minute lifted his eyebrows.
?Everything alright??
Brian
bit at his fingernail and shrugged slightly. ?Just looking at what you?re
doing, that?s all.?
?Well
in that case,? Emmett decided and took two corners of the fresh sheet,
spreading his arms as wide as he could. ?Take the other side.?
Brian
took his finger out from between his lips with a dumbstruck expression.
Emmett
only stared at him.
?Hff.?
Beaten, Mister Kinney slouched his shoulders and walked a few steps closer, grabbing
reluctantly for the other side of the sheet.?
Emmett
lifted his part up, waited for Brian to do the same and started to shake the
folds out and smooth it down on the bed. When he tucked the sheet edges under
the mattress, he peered over at his boss with a little smirk. ?That?s kind of
cute you know? Making his bed for him.? He smoothed last small wrinkles out of
the expensive fabric. ?Not that he?ll use it??
?I?m
not making his bed.? Brian frowned as he tucked one end of the sheet under the
mattress corner, just to see it slip out again on the other side. ?I?m stuffing
a damn sheet under the mattress.?
?Of
course.?
?And
he will use it.?
?He
will?? Emmett looked seriously surprised and then almost disappointed.
Brian
avoided his gaze and threw a pillow on the bed. ?I want him to have his own ?
space.? And while he folded a thick, soft?
blanket in slight frustration, before pulling a dark blue bed cover over
his work, Emmett?s face lit a up with a gentle, little smile.
?And
that?s what makes this special, right??
Brian
didn?t look up. ?What is?!?
?That
you want him to have his own bed. He?s the first man with his own bed in your
life. You want him to stay.?
Brian
didn?t like the heavy feeling shooting through his stomach and his face
mirrored bitter agony.
?Don?t
worry.? Emmett?s tone had changed all of sudden, becoming more serious now and
comforting. ?He will.?
And
Brian looked at him? for a long time, without saying one single word? and then
he turned around on a blue cat fur carpet, to leave the room. ?Don?t forget to
put fresh water on the nightstand.?
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When
male nurse Schmidt entered room 4.11 at 3 pm, patient Taylor sat motionless on
his bed, a little blue present next to him on the pillow, and an open fairy
tale book in his lap, showing the pictures of an old grey tower and a beautiful
blonde-haired princess, looking out of its window.
?Ah,
that?s Cinderella, right?? The nurse said in a friendly tone and peeked over
Justin?s shoulder to see the picture better. ?I loved these kind of stories
when I was a kid.?
Justin
sighed, stood up and walked away, with little steps towards his window, his
eyes never leaving the book pages.?
?Uhm??
Theodore cleared his throat and gestured around behind the young man. ?Well
actually I?m here at Dr. Cameron?s request. He wants to do something nice for
the patients because of Christmas.?
Justin
looked at the words in his book but counted how many socks Plake had put in his
bag. Loudly. ?Three?four?fif?five.?
?Well
nothing big,? The nurse raised his voice a little helplessly. ?I think a
hairdresser will go around offering free haircuts or maybe a shave. But then
again,? He laughed. ?You won?t need that, right??
?Six?
seven?eight?nine.? There weren?t that many socks in his bag, but Justin counted
anyway. He really didn?t like the sleeping nurse.
Ted
patted the patient?s shoulder. ?But hey, maybe I should sign up for one, huh?
Never turn down a free service!? He laughed again.
?Aah!?
Justin started to rock back and forth on his feet strongly. The hand on his
shoulder wasn?t good and of course the sleeping nurse stood way too close.
?Ah?okay.?
Nurse Schmidt held his hands up, capitulating. ?I guess I?m on my way then. Just-?
He gestured again. ?Be ready huh??
?Aah!?
Justin looked up to the ceiling and screamed a little bit louder until the
thick wall door was closed again. Then he turned around and counted the water
marks on his window pane.
?Two?twenty-two.
Yes certain? certainly it?s melted? melted snow.? He paused and looked aside
with a blank gaze. ?You can? can wipe it off with a cloth. Prian? my Prian
says.?
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?I
don?t like the pig-girl.? Gus said and ate another piece of popcorn.
?I
know,? Emmett agreed seriously. ?Me neither. And I really don?t get why she
won?t stop making advances toward Kermit.? He sipped at his punch. ?I mean he?s
so gay.?
?And
a frog.? The child added helpfully. ?Frogs don?t like pigs.?
?Of
course not.? Emmett seemed gravely distraught and couldn?t even enjoy his
butter-caramel-popcorn anymore when Miss Piggy oozed her charm once more in
Kermit?s direction.
They
all sat on the sofa to watch ?It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie?, drank
some non-alcoholic eggnog and ate popcorn, but Mister Kinney paid only minimal
attention to the developments on the screen and alternatively massaged his
right temple and this little spot right above his eyebrow at five second
intervals. He felt a major headache coming, and glanced for the thousandth time
in the last 30 minutes at the coffee table, where his non-ringing phone lay,
right beside his untouched cup of eggnog and a flat, dark green gift-box.
It
had no card, nor was it wrapped in some festive paper, but it counted as a real
present anyway, and the aerial image of a young blond man with a shimmering
golden butterfly-necklace around his pale neck flashed briefly through Brian?s
head. And he caught himself smiling just a little, but forced it down
immediately and shifted around in his seat with an almost embarrassed sideways
glance.
He
cleared his throat and got up from the sofa. ?I want a beer.?
Emmett
watched him leave the room and wanted to say something like ?You can?t drink
beer on Christmas Eve!?. But he didn?t. Instead he threw a pleading look at the
damn telephone and hoped this lawyer guy would call really soon, because it was
more than time for the big grouchy Grinch to get rid of this heavy weight he?d
carried around on his shoulders for the last few days, and finally jump on his
white horse to pick up his lovely princess.
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At
3.22 pm Justin got startled when the thick wall door flew open, and lots of
loud, hectic noises and movements filled his small room.
?Okay,?
Dr. Cameron said and stepped aside with his back to the open door, so his
colleagues could enter the room. ?And he gets a full cut.? He looked at the
clipboard in his hands, scribbled something down with a black pen, and then
stuck the board under his arm with a smile towards his patient.
?Hello
Justin,? He said it loud and held his hand out for the boy to shake it. ?How
are you today??
?Yes.?
Justin sat still on his bed and looked up to the ceiling. He didn?t know why
all the people were in his room.
Dr.
Cameron laughed and patted his cheek lightly. ?I bet you?re very excited. The
nurses told me you?re allowed to visit a friend during the holidays.?
?Yes.?
Justin?s eyes flickered nervously. He wanted to count, but couldn?t remember
the first number. He wished the noises in his room were quieter.
?Okay.?
The Doctor spoke to a man with a big nose, who Justin had never seen before.
?If you don?t get far with the scissors, just use the clippers.? Then he turned
to Justin again, his voice a bit louder. ?See? We?ll get you all spiffed-up for
Christmas, huh?!? He laughed, clapped his hand on the kid?s shoulder and then
hurried out of the room and the thick wall door slammed shut with a loud bang.
Justin
didn?t like it. There were still nurses in his room and men he didn?t know.
?Ah,
it?s almost a shame, don?t you think Justin?? Nurse Max stood next to the
patient, touching his blond hair. ?I kind of like your hair.?
?Yes.?
Justin felt proud. He liked his hair too. It was very long and all silky.
?Well
come on, then.? The nurse said in a friendly tone and took hold of the boy?s
elbow. ?Let?s make you pretty for Christmas.?
Justin
blinked upwards to the ceiling and after a moment laughed. ?Yes!? He could
brush his hair and wear beautiful?
??slippers.?
Max
smiled too and waited patiently until the kid had climbed off the bed. Then he
guided him towards the little table in the middle of the room. ?Here, just sit
down, all right??
?Oooh.?
Justin did and was completely fascinated as he looked at the different
hairbrushes and silver scissors the man with the big nose had put on his table.
He wanted to touch them and, ?Ha!? laughed happily. There was also a mirror! A
new one without shards! He smiled at his own face and extended a finger to
touch his white, shiny teeth in the mirror.
One
of Max? hands remained on Justin?s shoulder and another man stood close behind
the boy?s back, while he combed his fingers through the long strands,
straitening them out to full length.
?He
seems young.? Steve glanced briefly into the mirror and grabbed for a black
comb. ?How old is he??
Justin
held very still and breathed noisily through his nose when the man with the big
nose combed all his hairs over his face. It tickled his nose and he wondered
whether he could see the beautiful prince with such a hairstyle.
Max
shrugged. ?Eighteen, as far as I know.?
Steve
nodded. ?Pretty young to live in here.?
?I
suppose.? Max shrugged again and took a peppermint nurse Schmidt handed him.
Steve,
combed the hair out of the kid?s face and moved his head a little to the side.
?Stay like this.?
Justin
blinked in the mirror, watching as some strands of his hair were pulled out
straight. The strange fingers on his neck were soft but really cold.
Steve
took one of the scissors and held it together with his comb in one hand when he
cut off the first thick strand.
Justin
froze. Millions and millions of blond hairs fell down on his shoulders and
belly and in his lap. ?Hh!? He bent down to look at the floor horrified, ?Oh
oh!? and reached with both hands for his head, feeling his hair.
Steve
pulled his scissor back. ?Would you hold his damn hands?!?
?Sorry.?
Max tried to guide the boy back in an upright position on the chair, meanwhile
nurse Schmidt fished for Justin?s wrists to hold them still.
Steve
moved Justin?s head a little forcefully back to the right angle and cut two
more strands down.
Justin
watched what happened in the mirror, quickly squeezed his eyes shut and shook
his head violently. His beautiful hair fell?
??to
the floor!? He screamed loudly, repeating the same words over and over.
?Keep
him still!? The hairdresser shouted angrily at the two nurses; holding his
scissors out of the way.
?Justin!?
Max tried to hold one of the kid?s arms still.
?Maybe
we should sedate him?!? Nurse Schmidt suggested a little helplessly.
?
?We
don?t sedate patients because of a haircut!? Max shouted back, two seconds
before Justin managed to pull his arm free and instantly started to hit it
against his forehead.
?Fuck
off! Fuck?fuck off!?
?Ted,
go and get Gold and Sherman!? Max instructed his colleague and addressed Steve,
who seemed more than a little annoyed about all the delay. ?How long will it
take with the trimmer??
The
hairdresser shrugged. ?Three minutes, tops.? God, he really looked forward to
serving the other 16 patients of this ward, he couldn?t think of a better way
to start the holidays?
And
then the door swung open and Justin couldn?t think anymore. His head hurt and
his screaming was loud and loud but not loud enough to drown the terrible
buzzing sound in his ears. ?Fuck off!? And he fought with his arms in panic,
kicked his legs, slammed his head back and forth frantically, towards the mirror.
?..off?.fuck off!? But there were no shards this time, just loud, evil voices
and so many hands. ?Of, of course!? He shrieked. ?My Prian says!? Strong
fingers, wrapped around every part of his body. He didn?t want them to. He
didn?t want to sit here. He didn?t want to see the silvery buzzer-box and watch
his silky princess hair falling to the floor. ?Fu-uck?? He hiccupped
desperately. And he wanted to be gone and far away, and he cried and saw
himself in the mirror. ?No-o.? Saw his mouth wide open, his blue eyes red, and
the small buzzing box running over his head. ?Noo?? Watched countless blond
hairs floating around in the air. And he felt so sad and weak and heavy and
looked at one of the men around him, but no one saw him. ?Of?of course!? He
whimpered and his throat felt scratchy. ?My hair!? And then the loud buzzing
was gone and all the hands and he fell off his chair and slammed on the ground
? and lay there in a sea of dead hairs that didn?t belong to him anymore.
??????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????-------------------
??
The
phone rang five times, before a boy in Spiderman sneakers entered Brighton?s
living room with big kangaroo jumps and picked it up.
?Hello!?
He said a little too loud and jumped a sixth time.
Gunn
paused surprised, while gesturing to the waitress for another coffee. ?Uhm?hello.
You?re Gus, right??
?Yes.?
The boy confirmed and jumped again, a little out of breath.
?Hi.? Gunn smiled. ?I?m Charles.?
?Hello.?
Gus started to jump in the direction of the coffee table, where the rest of the
popcorn was. ?Santa Claus comes tonight.?
?That?s right.? Gunn nodded when a fresh cup was placed in front of
him. ?Listen buddy, I need to talk to your dad. Any idea where he is??
?Yes.?
Gus prepared for a last big 20 inches jump. ?He?s on the toilet.?
Gunn
frowned and then smiled when he could hear another person in the background. A
big, grouchy person.
?Who
told you to answer the phone!? Brian took the receiver out of the boy?s hand.
?I hope you flushed.? Gunn grinned.
?And
I hope you have a good reason for not calling!? Brian growled back.
?Yeah sorry, man.? Gunn stirred his coffee. ?Took longer than
expected. But it went really good. We?ll still need to go to court, but Mister
Taylor agreed to-?
?Wait.?
Brian fetched his jacket and went towards the front door. ?I need fresh air and
a cigarette.?
?That could be
difficult.?
??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
-------------------
Justin
was alone in his room. The thick wall door was closed, and all the silver
scissors and loud clippers were gone. Even the new mirror.
It
didn?t matter.
Justin
didn?t need a mirror to know that Christmas was over now and the beautiful
prince would never come to climb up the grey tower and rescue him. He couldn?t.
Because all the long, blond princess hair lay dead on the floor and wasn?t
shiny anymore.
Justin
rubbed his nose weakly over the hard ground and all the soft hair strands. It
still smelled like him though. Like shampoo and water. A little like peaches
and sun. But most of all it smelled like Prian?s fingers.
Justin
sobbed a shaky breath and sniffled, the tip of his thumb against his red lips,
his cheek resting on the remains of his hairs. He loved the prince?s fingers in
his hair. Soft and strong and gentle. And he really would?ve preferred to feel
them right now.?
?A smiling Prian with a red towel to dry his wet hair.? ?Shit, your hair is really long, you know???
?Prian?s long fingers
brushing his hair off of his forehead again and again under the hot storm-air.
?You like your hair this way???
?Soft words out of Prian?s mouth and two strong fingers, wrapped in
blond strands. ?People don't climb on hair?nobody climbs on hair. People climb
on a rope.??
?Hhy-yes.?
Justin sobbed again, rubbed his eyes and sat up clumsily on his knees. ?My...my
Prian says.? His voice sounded funny, his back hurt and he felt numb and dizzy
from all the tears and screaming. Maybe he was a little ill too, but he didn?t
want to puke. And he stood up from the floor, blond hairs sticking to his skin
and clothes, and he wiped the back of his hand over his wet face, while the
other hand reached for the long strand behind his ear, to curl it around one
finger. It wasn?t there. ?Ye-es.? And he stood there in the middle of his room,
tugged lightly at his earlobe, squeezed his eyes shut and felt more tears
running down his cheeks, tickling his nose and lips and chin. He brought his
arm up awkwardly to cover his face with it. And he pushed his nose into the
soft fabric of his sweater but it didn?t smell like Prince or Pudding or?
???Prian!? He wanted to see him so badly. His
brown eyes and soft hair. And he wanted to be with him. In the castle. Because
of Christmas and for ever and ever and hundred years.
And
he blinked his damp eyes, made little steps towards his nightstand and needed
43 seconds to pull the drawer open.
?Yes.?
The
blue ball of wool felt soft under his fingertips and reminded him of
butterflies and kitty naps and a warm kiss from Prian on his nose. He rubbed
his sleeve over it, as another tear tickled him and then looked up to the white
ceiling for a long time.??
At
4.38 pm the late winter sun began to set in front of a narrow tower window and
Justin rattled at its handle, pushed and pulled, until it opened and cold
wind-air flew into the room, hitting the sore, red skin of his face. He blinked
rapidly a few times, ?Yes.? plodded towards his wardrobe for his silver jacket,
needed a while to close the zipper and then sat down stiffly to put on his
brown seven league boots.
The
black bag was difficult to close and heavy to lift up on the windowsill, and
when it stood there unsteadily, Justin wasn?t quite sure what to do with it.
?Yes.? He looked up into the greyish clouds to see the snowflakes, and looked
down again when he heard a dull thud from far away. ?Of course.? His bag was
gone and he bent a little forward and thought it was funny to see it all the
way down on the ground. In the lovely white snow. And he smiled and hiccupped a
sob at the same time. ?Alright.? He rubbed his ear and turned around. Walked
slowly to his bed and lifted the cheap pillow. He felt warm when he saw the
three things underneath. And he placed the yellow butterflies carefully around
his neck, held the little blue Christmas present cautiously in his hand and
hugged his fairy tale book close to his chest, before sticking it under his
arm.
He
went to the open window, ?Yes?certainly the cord.? It was blue and soft and
very long. And he held it on one end when he threw the rest clumsily out into
the cold winter air. He swayed slightly on his feet for a moment, his blank
gaze upwards, and then draped the piece of blue wool he held in his fingers
meticulously over the window frame and sill. Exactly in its middle. He looked
at it and sighed.
?Yes.?
His stomach fluttered when he tried to lift his feet high enough to reach the
ledge. It was very hard to do and he had to use his free arm and almost lost
his little parcel. But then he kneeled in the narrow window frame, with soft
snowflakes dancing around his head, and it was so cold and high and on the top
of the grey tower, but his butterflies flapped their wings inside of his belly
and his cheeks felt hot and he smiled brightly and had to laugh a bit. He was
like a bird just without beak and feathers. And he was like the princess in his
book. Just without long hair. But with wonderful blue cord.
He
grabbed it and wobbled a little when he looked back over his shoulder?and then
his book was gone and he flew away and never touched the clouds but the ground
underneath his tower window. And then he just lay there in the lovely white
snow. On Christmas Eve. With closed eyes and stiff pale fingers, tightly
wrapped around a small blue present. For Prian.
???????????????????????????????????????????? ???????????????------------------
?Well,
that?s bullshit!? Brian walked a small furrow into the brick flooring of his
gateway. It was fucking cold, the stories about Justin?s father made his blood
boil and he had only one more cigarette. ?Why would I make a worse guardian
than some hetero schmuck who doesn?t even know the kid!?
?Because
heterosexuals rule the world, I?m sure you know that.?
??Well, not my part of the world.? Brian said
and turned towards the street when he heard the thud of something hitting the
pavement. He squinted his eyes but couldn?t see anything. ?So what?s the Master
plan?? He looked up at the upper windows of the institution and walked a couple
of steps closer to the posts of his gate, when he saw that one of the windows
was wide open. He thought it was Justin?s.
?The plan is, to give this Taylor guy your hard earned money, so he?ll
recommend you as the perfect guardian to the judge.?
?Hm.?
Brian shielded his eyes when he reached the sidewalk in front of his house and
peered upwards. A young man climbed around on the window sill. A young man with
a silver jacket and a book. ?What the fuck?? He held the phone a few inches
away from his ear. ?Hey!? He called towards the boy but didn?t receive any
reaction.
The
thought of running across the street and up the stairs to pull the kid
furiously away from the window, crossed his mind briefly. But it seemed
ridiculous one second later.
?What
the fuck are you doing!?
He
sounded angry and full of overwhelming fear, made two stupefied steps on the
black asphalt and felt so sick, it hurt his stomach, when the small figure in
the window frame swayed dangerously.
?Justin!?
It
was meant as a scream but his voice broke in shock and devastating heartache as
a muffled squeal was to be heard and the boy in the open window lost his hold.
?No!? It was an anguish, helpless outcry that no one heard or noticed, as the
telephone fell out of his fingers and shattered into pieces on the slightly
snow covered street. He wanted to run but couldn?t. Instead his arm twitched as
if he would try to reach out. ?No.? The little word was almost as soundless as
the odd sound, when Justin?s light body hit the ground.
The
world faded to black in front of Brian?s eyes but he ran anyway, ?No.? flew
practically. Long strides with surreally heavy legs. ?No, no, no.? Seven steps across the street, two
more over the sidewalk with slit-stones and then his knees got wet as they made
hard contact with the frozen ground. White snow, muddy with thick, red fluid.
Arms and legs in awkward angles. Two broken farfalle noodles somewhere between.
?No!? He screamed hoarsely at a pale face. It was paler than usual. And he felt
so angry. ?God damnit!? Ten strong fingers, cramped in the smooth fabric of a
silver jacket, lifting the motionless body up a little. ?Stop it!? He felt his
voice tremble, before he noticed that the rest of his body did the same. ?I was
on my way.? He said and pressed his nose against a cold face, seeing tears on
it, and knew they were his own. ?To get you.? He felt like choking on the
words. ?You goddamn stupid boy.?
He
knew someone called the ambulance. He knew there were other people around.
People who shouted at him to get off the victim, make room.
It
didn?t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Not when he collected a crumpled, wet
fairy tale book, straightening the pages carefully before shutting it. Not when
he had to shut his eyes as he took the little blue parcel out of thin fingers
and trembled as he kissed cool lips. They were bloody. It didn?t matter. ?Come
on.? Nothing did, but the faint pulse he felt against his hands, when he
carried Justin Taylor slowly across the street. To the other side, where he
wanted to be.
Because
there was nothing else that? Prian could
do.
???????????????????????????? ???????????????????????????????----------------??
The
paramedics wanted to know who Justin?s legal guardian was. Brian said he didn?t
know the guardian, but that he was Justin?s friend.
Apparently,
that wasn?t good enough and he didn?t go with the ambulance, but drove in his
own car to the hospital. He had Justin?s bag on the backseat.
As
Justin was transferred from the ambulance into some room with swinging doors
and bright lights, Brian thought briefly about calling Michael. Or Cynthia.
Then he wondered why, and sat alone on a white plastic chair, in some endless
long hospital corridor.
After
the first two hours he started to feel angry about the empty, white silence
though, and played a scene in his head, where he drove to Delmont with a
shotgun. It ended as bloody as Justin?s lips had tasted and the image of teary
blue eyes and a poisoned apple popped up in front of his eyes. They grew blurry
and he wiped them with his sleeve.
After
three and a half hours, Brian stared at the self made card that stuck to the
small blue parcel, he held in his hands. He pulled it off and put it in the
left inner-pocket of his jacket. It felt warm.
Ten
minutes later he hesitantly unwrapped the light blue present, stared blankly at
the unexpected cowry-shell bracelet he found underneath the paper, and let it
quickly disappear inside his hand. He cleared his throat and looked aside.?
In
the fourth hour on the hard chair, the unusual bracelet lay around his wrist
and he wanted to call Blake. He realized he didn?t have his number.
In
the fifth hour he realized he wouldn?t need the number, because he no longer
sat alone in the endless long corridor. The silence didn?t change though. He
was glad about it. He didn?t feel like talking.
But
Blake did. Half an hour later. With a light nudge against Brian?s arm. ?You?re
wearing it.?
?I
like shells.? That was true, but not the reason he was wearing it.
Blake
folded his hands and looked at the floor, ?So,? before nodding towards the
closed swinging doors. ?What are they doing in there??
Brian
glanced at the doors, too and shrugged. ?His legs are broken. I guess they need
to fix them. And three of his ribs.?
Blake
didn?t say anything.
?And
they said something about damage of his internal organs. And bleeding.? Brian
cleared his throat. ?Internal bleeding.? He grimaced and picked at the tip of
his thumb.
Blake
pressed his lips tightly together, nodding again. And after a moment he exhaled
with something similar to a laugh. ?I?m so glad he?s alive.? He looked at Brian
with a smile.
Brian
looked away and decided that blond, blabbering tower people were maybe better
than empty, silent corridors.
?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
----------------
It
was the last six minutes of Christmas Eve when Brian Kinney was allowed to
enter a small, white, sterile room on the right side of the corridor. It had no
window at all, but a big glass wall with blinds to close and the bed had rails
over the full length to prevent blond brats from falling out.
Blond
brats with bandages all over and tubes and pipes and beeping monitors. Blond
brats with closed eyes, slightly opened lips and extremely short hair.
Brian
shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and in the end sighed a little
without noticing it himself, and then he went closer. One step and another one,
and he touched one of the flickering monitors, and looked down at his shoes
before he made the final step and bumped the cold metal bed rail lightly with
his hip. He cleared his throat. This close to the bed, the room didn?t smell of
antiseptic spray anymore. It smelled like Justin.
His
eyes moved rapidly back and forth, studying the boy?s still features. Pale and
calm. Clean and spotless, except for one little scratch on the right cheek and
a light bruise under his chin.
He
wanted to touch him, but only dared to extend one finger. He tipped it to
Justin?s nose. It felt good. So he brushed it gently over a soft cheek, passed
one closed eye, and finally watched his hand twitch and fan out over short
blond hairs. It seemed a hint darker now, but was incredibly soft.
Brian
wanted to crawl in this bed and lie beside the boy. Close enough to breath into
a warm neck.
Of
course he couldn?t. But he sniffed through his nose and leaned forward to kiss
a pale, pink mouth. He closed his eyes while doing it and lingered a moment
longer, breathing in the smell of clean skin and pure Justin. ?Wake up.? He
whispered it against smooth, dry lips. Very quietly. And then he kissed him
again and pulled back.
?Hhh.?
Justin sighed and clicked his tongue. Something inside his head felt heavy and
too big. And he was tired. But his mouth tasted like ice cream.
Brian
blinked startled, stepping an inch backwards.
And
after a minute, or maybe two, blue eyes fluttered slowly open. ?Yes.? Justin
tried to move, his voice sounding low and rough.
?Ssh.?
Brian touched his hand. ?No talking.?
Justin?s
gaze wandered in the wrong direction as he tried to orientate himself somehow.
?Certain??
Brian
rubbed his knuckles. ?Are you in pain??
?Hff.?
The boy sighed again, closed his eyes? and looked tiredly at Brian when he
opened them again. ?Into? into the castle.?
Brian
stared back, glanced briefly at one of the monitors to pinch the bridge of his
nose, and eventually huffed a little laugh when he looked back at Justin. ?You
couldn?t take the stairs, huh??
All
he got for an answer was the innocent blinking of two blue eyes. But that was
fine.
And
he released Justin?s fingers, went out of the room, came back with a chair, put
it close to the boy?s bed, sat down and stuck his hand through the bed rail,
onto a thin blanket.
?Sleep.?
It
took Justin a long while to answer. ?Yes.?
?Yes.?
Brian leaned back and closed his eyes.
And
almost 10 minutes later?shortly after midnight in the dawn before Christmas?he
felt a feather light fingertip against his palm.
?My?
my prince.?
He
wrapped his hand around it, holding the thin finger loosely, and answered
because he wanted to and this was special. A special situation, a special
feeling? a very special man in his life. And everything felt so worth it.
?It?s
true. I am.?
????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
***
?