Peter & Austin (Chapter 8)

Amy

I rode the train back to Brooklyn thinking about my brother and this Peter while trying to examine why I now was feeling kind of hurt and let down mixed with a strange hint of relief.  My brother is pretty good at keeping things under the surface...but he's always got his heart laying on his sleeve despite himself.  Sleeves that always seemed to fit him so well, too.  I mean, growing up, we hung out together and had fun, but I could feel an undercurrent to his laughter.  I could feel that something had changed even though he always came off as so comfortable and naturally put together.  I was his little sister...and I'd never seen him both so upset, and so in love as he'd been today.  We didn't talk about serious things much...and we spoke sarcastically most of the time.  He obviously had preferred to work things out on his own because he never shared anything troubling him, and that was just how it was.  I respected that about him, and he'd always seemed to get along really well...not to mention he'd been banking on his genetics in the meantime which people seemed to be so thrilled about.  I kind of resented their encouragement...he was my brother and I wanted him around.
God, a few years after dad died he'd told us he was gay, and yeah, I was upset.  I guess I had kind of figured it out by then, but I honestly wanted him to deny it.  I was trying so hard to.  In middle school, most of my friends wouldn't keep it to themselves how big of a creepy, obsessive crush they had on my brother, and I didn't want to have to explain to them how he was fucking guys now. I didn't want to have to see my mom try to hold back tears assuming that this meant he wouldn't have any kids, and then look at me expectantly.  It was insulting enough for him to be traveling all the time and come home so tired that he didn't really even talk to mom or me before he went off to do some other job again.  To imagine that my good natured, seemingly humble big brother was out getting plowed all over the nation by the other male models in my magazines just made my skin crawl.  But years ago was a long ways from now, and I realized shortly thereafter that gay didn't mean promiscuous and it was stupid to have even thought that.  He was still the same brother I'd always known.
Sometimes when we were younger, he'd bring friends over to our house.  Jeremy would get dropped off by his sister and he and Austin would go play video games or fort outside in the treehouse.  I tried to play, too, but most of the time they'd just go off together and say it wasn't anything a girl would like playing.  One time I'd just come back from school, and the bathroom door opened right as I walked by.  Austin and Jeremy flew from it looking surprised, red-faced, and giggly.  Yeah, I was 10, but I wasn't dumb.  There's no real reason to be in the bathroom with your friends.  Even less of a reason, still, if you had the whole house to yourselves...unless you were doing something you really didn't want anyone to know about.
After his 14th birthday party, he'd begged our mom to let him spend the night at Jeremy's house.  He'd burst, uncharacteristically, into tears when she said that he couldn't; that he wasn't staying out on a school night.  He refused to eat dinner with us that evening, and shut himself in his room.  I didn't tell my parents that I'd seen the two of them skating side by side to 'Every Breath You Take' on the darkened skating rink. As they lost their balance, they'd fallen over each other to the floor.  I thought maybe they'd gotten hurt, but as I skated closer, I'd realized they weren't hurt at all.  They were just sitting there with their heads close; looking at each other.  Austin had brushed the hair out of Jeremy's eyes and Jeremy's hand was on Austin's chest.  My blood went cold when I saw them touching each other, and I spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out what that meant.

Dad went into Austin's room when we got home, and forcibly pulled Austin to the chair at the dinner table and sat him in it.  Austin looked surprised--almost frightened--and apologetic, and sat there, wiping at his face and sniffing.  As dad raised his voice sternly, scolding Austin for being disrespectful of his mother, his pout turned to a bitter resentment.  He yelled back at dad, taking us all by surprise.
"I'm being disrespectful?!  You're the one that shouldn't be at this table!"  He said, as his face contorted all over again into a wave of angry tears.  He looked scared and angry like I'd never seen before.
"Hey!"  My mother's voice sounded with warning, "I've made this meal especially for your birthday, Austin.  You're going to eat with us, or you'll sit here quietly until we've all finished."
I looked at Austin, then at my dad, and then to my mom, every trying to be the peacemaker.  It was true, she'd made meatless lasagna because Austin didn't like meat, and lasagna was his favorite.

"Mom, I'm sorry." Was all Austin said as we ate in silence; Austin's plate remaining untouched.  Dad's cheeks were reddened, and he shook his head at Austin with his jaw clenched.  Austin looked back at him defiantly.  I'd tried to comfort Austin by telling him it was okay...that he could eat the lasagna tomorrow, but dad silenced me.  I wondered what Austin thought of his angry words now.

The Exit's angsty rock turned to honking and exhaust as I pulled my headphones down. I stepped up from the steamy, grimy subway platform to the refreshing Brooklyn air.  I mean, it was refreshing only in that it wasn't the steamy New York transit, but everything was a little grimy, distressed, and urban.  It was kind of the constant, so other changes were more pronounced over top of it, and right now, the energized breeze in the air, the scrawl on every surface, it felt like home compared with the clean swept, small town streets I'd walked to meet my brother and his boyfriend.

I pushed the heavy, wooden door of my apartment open by it's shiny, heavy, black doorknob. Built in the 40s, the place was musty and dated, but alive with character.  I loved it's interesting textures and preservation of the past. My roommate and fellow art major, Leslie, was laying on the couch with her Macbook, and a cigarette.  Her dark-brown, bobbed head of hair looked up as I came in.
"Hey Ames,"  She tapped her cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table, "How was it?"
I threw my oversized bag down on the kitchen counter with my keys, and rolled my eyes, leaning on the counter.
"Good, I guess--and so gay,"  I said for emphasis, shaking my head as I put a hand through my hair.  I'd told her the whole story when we'd first become friends.  She hadn't really reacted much except for telling me she'd seen him in that one ad and thought it was hot that he was gay, but that was Leslie...aloof, painfully indie, and openly honest.  She wasn't my first choice as a roommate but it just sort of happened that way.  We were good friends at first, and then gradually fell into our own modes.
"I mean not really.  The guy he's dating is actually pretty cute...I guess he works at the hospital that Austin worked at...he's tall and indie-looking with dark, short hair," I shrugged, reconsidering, "So I guess it wasn't as gay as I expected, actually...they were kind of cute together.  They agreed to let me take pictures for my project...and they totally were touching each other the whole time...I'm glad he's pretty reserved and not like a total flamer.  It was kind of awkward watching my brother kiss a guy though."

"Um, you mean hot?  Sounds like you're jealous of Peter..."  She mumbled, putting her cigarette out, and then seeing the grimace on my face, immediately rolled her eyes, "I know, it's your brother.  But come on...he's kind of a big deal, and you know ninety percent of the male population here wants to do him....and actually, he probably shouldn't bring Peter into Brooklyn...they would be mauled."
My jaw dropped in disgust as she looked back at me with a knowing smirk.  We hung around with Brooklyn's artist circles...and yeah, I'd seen the way they'd look at Austin when he'd visit.  He said he hated that people recognized him and I knew it made him uncomfortable when they'd elbow each other and whisper, even as he'd still be polite and casual around them.  I tried to keep him from those situations, but there really wasn't anywhere we could go that someone wasn't whispering or calling out his name.
"First of all, that's disgusting...that's my brother you're talking about, and no, I'm not jealous of Peter," I protested with sincerity, although also with understanding.  It was true, Brooklyn was permeated with popular culture and obsessed with it's more-prominent residents'--and their brother's--doings.  It was also true that Peter got a lot more time with Austin than I ever did.  Maybe that was both of our faults.  Her shoulders shrugged as she lit up another cigarette.
"Sorry."  She said, halfway apologetic, and returned to attention to her computer, "but it's true."
Apparently she was only concerned with his social status.  God, I thought, it's so hard to talk to anyone around here.  Austin introduces me to his lover but won't tell me what bothers him about our own brother.  Eric says he just wants to bring his friend to the city, and won't tell me why he needs to talk to Austin.  I guess that's why I'm a photographer...I was never very good with words.

Peter

Austin was clearly toiling with his thoughts.  As his expression had been shifting consistently between anguished worry and frenzied relief from the time we woke up, I knew there was no way I was going in to work.  We washed up and--usually chatty--he spoke no more than a sentence.  I asked if he wanted to go for a run with me or go swimming this morning and said he wasn't up for it.  Now, he sat at the table in the same clothes he'd slept in, staring at nothing out the window.  The only movement he made was the blinking of his eyes, the furrowing of his perfectly defined brows, and his mouth as he bit his lip.  I knew he would need a lot of space with this, and I realized, then, that a lot of what he was sorting out in his head probably couldn't be put in to words.  I was sure it was a good sign if he was acknowledging everything after putting it aside for so long...but to deal with what happened was going to take talking about it with a professional.  I wondered if he'd go to see a psychiatrist.  It was going to be a tough decision for him to do that, I thought, but he was such an intelligent guy...I knew that he knew what he needed to do.  The coffee I'd been brewing as I contemplated him slowly stopped it's dripping, and I turned back towards it; pouring two mugs.

"Hey,"  I said timidly, as I set the cup in front of him and rubbed his back as I sat next to him at the table, "I made your hazelnut decaff."
He looked down at it with a knowing, little smile.  Hazelnut was his preferred flavor, but not just any hazelnut...it was a specific strain from Canada that wasn't sold in the U.S.  So, he'd only get it when he went on jobs there, and made it only on special occasions.  I figured this was as good a time as any if it made him happy.
"Thanks Petey."  He said, grinning reservedly at me.  We both took a drink and sat quietly as the flavors absorbed.
"I'm going to make a bagel, can I make you one?"  I asked nonchalantly, but hopefully, as I opened the pantry.  Austin hadn't really eaten anything since yesterday morning...he really couldn't afford to lose the weight, either.  When he shook his head, though, I wasn't surprised...especially given Amy's allusions.
"Nah...I'm really not hungry.  The coffee is great though...thanks."
His voice had a very subtle, controlled edge to it.  I nodded.
"Sure--of course,"  and proceeded to toast and prepare myself a bagel.  I then cut it in half, reconsidering, and put it on two plates.
I set one plate in front of Austin, and sat down with the other.  He looked at me with those furrowed brows, and irritation, then picked it up and took a bite.  I raised my eyebrows a bit, but didn't question him. I shrugged approvingly before speaking,
"I didn't really want a whole one."
He swallowed, nodding a little, and looked at me appreciatively.
"Thanks,"  His smile turned turned to a little self conscious laugh, "I guess I'm hungrier than I'd thought."
"You should be!" I said with sarcasm, "You've barely eaten anything since breakfast yesterday."

I reached out to touch his knee as it grazed my thigh.  His smile faltered a little, and for a second I fought the suspicion that maybe I shouldn't have.
"I'm glad we can be open about everything, Austin...it means a lot.  I know how difficult it's got to be with all this honesty..but I want you to know that I don't think any differently of you, or of us, and I'm always, always here for you...and not because I think you need a friend outside of the industry or your family, or I feel bad or sorry for you, or because we look good together," I laughed a little and looked at him with a little sarcasm and a smile, "that last one's definitely true...but none of those are my reason for being here...I'm here because I care about you.  I'm here because I love you."

I'd just said it, then, plainly and honestly...partly because of the discomfort I seemed to be reading in his expressions all morning, but mostly because I did just love him.  Getting to really know each other these past 6 months, everything about him made me want to be as close with him as I could.  At first it was the physical things...like the curve of his nose, the calmness of his face...even his eyebrows were interesting with how subtly they influenced his smile.
I then began to notice my reaction to his voice.  I found it sexy for it's inflection, it's casual intensity, and my heart rushed each time he said my name.  I realized how easy-going, yet determined his character was, and for that, realized I enjoyed being around his energy and anticipated his company.  When we became comfortable enough just wearing whatever around each other instead of our work clothes, it seemed like we'd achieved a new level in our relationship, as superficial as that sounded.  Even as the worn in tshirts were just as becoming on him as any designer, we could still just relax together.  He was maybe even more attractive in an old, thin shirt and unwashed hair than all modeled out in Armani, I'd thought, watching the way the muscles in his arms stretched as he leaned against the counter towards me.  Or like when he'd wear a soft old shirt and jeans and steal my beanie as we'd sit sipping beer or eating lunch together.  We looked like the happiest, hippiest nobodies in the Village.

Even after the Alexander McQueen show, with all the interviews, the photo ops, the clothes, the makeup, and the hair, even after meeting some high profile designers and models, we'd left the loud, house music of the party to relax together in the hushed conversation of our own voices.  We laid together in our apartment, and had fallen asleep together with just the warm skin of each other wrapped around us.  No glitter or drama, no banging music or hype...just the two of us trailing off as we neared sleep, talking of love and life and what it meant.  I guess I was biased, though, as I knew him in his gym clothes, and not couture; in his boxers, and not designer underwear.  I loved him for his honesty with himself...for just being the person that he was.  It stirred me, the way he'd look at me more deeply than anyone had before, and the way that he was excited about me for who I was, too.

"I know...and I love you too,"  He looked at me with eagerness that edged on tears, "but Peter, it's not you I'm worried about.  The way you're so accepting and charming and just wonderful...there's no way I could feel threatened...but...man..."
His voice wavered and caught in his throat as he stood up; taking his plate to the sink.  I followed him, feeling helpless but determined as he shook his head and scrubbed at the dish.  As his shoulders collapsed in a silent sobbing with the force of years spent denying these emotions, he leaned against the counter and I was right there to catch him.  I felt the sobs shake through him as they shook through me too.  There was nothing I could say but I was thinking all of it.  It's going to be okay.  We're going to get through this.  I know it's difficult right now, but it will get better.  I love you...God, I love you.  Please, don't cry.  Let it all out.  Austin, I'm right here for you.  Let go of it.

"Austin..." His name was the only thing I could hoarsly whisper for my jaw was clenched with the pain he was feeling.  I hugged him to me, and he hugged back so tightly I thought my heart would explode. My cheek rested against his hair, and I held onto him.

"I need you--"  He choked between sobs, "I need you so much."