I Survived Seattle

by J. K. Hogan

  “I want to get my life together. I want to get better. I want to live my life without hiding, I just don’t know how.”

  Nic nodded, gripped the back of Justice’s neck and looked deep in his eyes. “Then that’s what you’ve got to figure out. I’m not going to promise to wait for you,” he said with a sigh, “but I may not have a choice. I love you.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “As a heart attack. You get to a better place, and you feel like coming back to Seattle, look me up. I’ll want to see you.”

  Justice couldn’t even fathom that kind of hope. He didn’t know what being able to truly count on someone looked like.

  Nic seized him in a ferocious kiss, tangling their tongues and searing Justice from the inside out. Justice groaned and sank into him, allowing himself a moment to imagine the possibilities.

  As soon as it had started, the kiss was over, and Nic was backing away from him, breathing hard.

  “Goodbye, Justice. I won’t forget you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Charleston, South Carolina

  “How was your week, Justice?” Dr. Holloway asked. She was a plump, homely looking woman who appeared to be in her mid-to-late forties. She could have been any pleasant Midwestern housewife, but there was absolutely nothing that shocked that woman; Justice had tried.

  Since she was his therapist, Justice had talked to her in explicit detail about all of his past relationships, and his current entanglement with Nic, sex and all. She’d never batted an eye at any of it, even with constant reminders of his “total gayness,” as he often called it.

  Justice looked at the woman who was currently in the process of saving his life, meeting her direct stare with one of his own. “It was good,” he answered, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile.

  “Just good?” She raised an eyebrow at him, familiar with the same tango they danced every time she had to coax Justice out of his shell.

  “Yeah, just good,” he repeated, teasing. “I finished up all of my outstanding contracts for artwork, and I’ve held off from taking on any new ones. And the lease on my apartment is up in two weeks.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  He hated when she did her noncommittal humming thing. Why couldn’t she just save them both the time and give him all the answers? Of course, he knew why —because the answers were different for everyone —but that didn’t stop him getting frustrated when he had trouble arriving at the conclusion she was leading him to.

  “I got invited to a Halloween party.”

  “Really? Did you go?”

  “Yeah,” Justice answered, smiling at the memory. “An acquaintance from work invited me —Shelby. I almost didn’t go, but I sucked it up.”

  “This is the first social event you’ve tried to go to since we started your new medications. Did they seem to make a difference?”

  After only their second session, Doc Holloway had switched Justice’s meds, claiming that the protocol he had been using wasn’t adequate for the types of symptoms he was experiencing, based on the latest research. She’d allowed him to keep his Xanax for panic attacks, but switched him to a new anxiolytic drug in combination with a beta blocker, which was used to combat the adrenaline that caused the physical symptoms of the panic attacks.

  “I noticed a big difference.” This time, Justice allowed himself to smile fully. “I could tell when the anxiety started to ramp up, and I know what would have happened, but it was like the medication just…blocked my brain from going to that place. I didn’t even have to use the Xanax.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “You’re a genius, Doc.”

  She rolled her eyes at him as she scribbled something in her notepad. “I’ve told you before, Justice, you can call me Jane.”

  Justice shrugged. “Ugh, no. Feels weird. That’d be like calling my mom Millie.” His eyes widened and he clamped a hand over his mouth. As soon as the sentence had come out, Justice wanted to call it back. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.

  Doc Holloway’s brows climbed toward her hairline. “You’ve never talked about your parents, not since your first session.”

  Okay, she noticed. When he first came to her office, he had broken down and told her the whole sordid story of his coming out, the trip to Seattle and his subsequent relationship and breakup with Nic. He was basically losing it, and he’d needed to let it out before he exploded. He hadn’t wanted to talk about his parents again. Still didn’t.

  “Yeah, well, they aren’t really a part of my life anymore,” he grumbled. He sounded like a petulant child, even to his own ears, but he couldn’t stop it. “I don’t even think about them anymore.”

  “Justice, do you know what a Freudian slip is?”

  “Oh, fuck me.”

  “The subject right now is your parents, not your sex life,” she deadpanned.

  “Doc!” Justice said with surprised laughter. He buried his face in his hands. “Holy Christ, what did I ever do to deserve this?”

  “I’ll tell you. You grew up to be a decent, reasonably well-adjusted young man, in spite of your childhood and your disorder. You recognized you had a problem and you sought to better yourself so that you could get on with the business of life.

  “I’m proud of you, Justice, and you should be proud of yourself. You don’t need your parents’ opinions or approval…but Justice?”

  “Yeah?” he answered, scrubbing at his eyes that had gone watery all of a sudden.

  “It’s time to talk about what you want.”

  * * * *

  Leedsville, South Carolina

  Welcome to Leedsville. That was what the faded sign that Justice just passed had said. It may as well have said Welcome to Perdition for all Justice was excited about being there.

  He’d come home to Charleston and buried himself in getting caught up with work. Once he finished all of his short term contract work, he was still restless. Antsy. Even though he was home, the place he was most comfortable, he hadn’t been able to settle since he’d left Seattle.

  His body mourned for Nic like a phantom limb. His heart couldn’t let go of the love that he realized now had been building probably since the first day they met. When he had nothing else to do, Justice began thinking about his conversations with Nic, particularly when they discussed his parents.

  He decided Nic was right. If nothing else, he needed the closure of confronting his parents one last time. Maybe then he’d have the courage to fully leave the closet behind, and give himself a chance to be happy.

  So there he was, pulling his old, battered Honda up to the curb in front of his childhood home. It looked remarkably inoffensive, the light gray, split-level ranch, that it was hard to believe that it was the vessel that held all of his childhood trauma.

  Summoning all of his mental fortitude, Justice forced himself to get out of the car and walk up to the front door. His stomach still flip-flopped wildly, but he was on the new drug and CBT protocol for his anxiety, and it seemed to be helping for the moment.

  He raised a shaking hand and knocked on the bright red front door. And waited. Nothing immediately happened. He heard no noises from inside. Maybe they weren’t home. Justice knew from his research that the house was still under the name Crawford, so he assumed his parents still lived there.

  He was about to turn around and go back to the car when he heard a dog bark, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching from inside. After a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal Amelia Crawford. Age had stolen most of her beauty, but she was undeniably Justice’s mother.

  Her hair had mostly gone to gray, and her once rich, green eyes were faded and rheumy. She was too skinny and frail-looking, and Justice felt a pinch deep inside his frozen heart. What’s happened to you?

  She must not have realized who he was at first, because she stared out at him with a bored expression. Then her eyes widened as recognition dawned, and her mouth formed a small “o” of surprise.

  Justice wasn’t prep
ared for what happened next. Suddenly her face crumpled and her knees seemed to give out. She slid to the floor with a resounding thud and let out an anguished, keening wail.

  He stole a quick look around the neighborhood, afraid people would think he was breaking in. When he saw no one, he quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

  Amelia had begun to cry in earnest, burying her face in her hands, and her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. This was definitely not the reaction Justice had expected.

  Not knowing what else to do, he knelt to the floor beside her and placed a hesitant hand on her bony shoulder. “Mom? Are you okay?”

  “J-Jus…” she whispered. “Dear God…you’re alive.”

  Justice could barely make out her words through the gulping sobs, but it sounded like she’d said alive.

  “Of course I’m alive, Mom. Why on earth would you think I wasn’t?”

  When she looked up at him, her eyes were liquid with tears. She had to gasp several times to take in enough air to continue talking.

  “When you ran away…well, Grandpa told me just enough to let me know you were alive, but he wouldn’t give me any details. I don’t know what caused him to be so angry with me…But when he passed away, and I didn’t get those vague reports…You never came back. You never made contact. I’d begun to fear something awful might have happened to you.”

  Justice wasn’t sure if she was pretending not to know why he left, or if she was honestly that clueless. It was obvious that they needed to clear the air between them, once and for all.

  He stood and reached down to help her up off the floor. “Is there somewhere we can sit down? I think we’re long overdue for a talk.”

  An hour later, they were seated at the little breakfast nook off the kitchen, which had been remodeled since Justice had last seen it. Amelia was sipping tea while Justice gulped his extra strong coffee.

  He couldn’t believe he was going to have to ask the question. “Mom, don’t you know why I left?”

  Amelia trembled, and carefully set down her teacup. Her tormented gaze connected with Justice’s. “Son, I’ve asked myself that question every day for the last ten years. I have my suspicions, but I just don’t really know. That must disappoint you terribly.”

  Justice sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The sides Lara had shaved for his wedding costume had grown out into a velvety fuzz. “When I came out…” He paused, watching her reaction. As he’d expected, she broke eye contact and stared down into her tea.

  “You want to know why? That right there…that’s why.”

  Her eyes snapped back to his face in surprise. “I don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t guess you ever did,” he said sadly. “When I finally worked up the nerve to tell you I was gay, which took balls of friggin’ steel for a seventeen year old, I might add, you never looked me in the eye again. Dad was worse. He’d look me in the eye, with nothing but disgust on his face.”

  She winced and started to speak. Justice held up a hand to stop her. He had to get it all out, or he felt like he might explode.

  “I guess I should count myself lucky that you didn’t kick me out on my ass, beat me, or send me to one of those anti-gay camps. But I’m not. I wasn’t. Lucky, I mean. From the minute y’all found out I was gay, you stopped seeing me. You stopped feeling me. You wouldn’t look at me, you certainly wouldn’t touch me, and Dad —”

  “Isn’t in the picture anymore.”

  “Pardon?” Justice said, confused by the interruption.

  “Your father. We split up about two years after you left. I kept wanting to look for you, to get you to come home, but he wouldn’t hear of it. We fought more and more, until eventually…well, it got physical. So I divorced him. I heard he passed away last year.”

  Justice stared at her, stunned into silence. His mom had wanted to find him? His father beat her? Dad’s dead? He felt a headache brewing as he went on information overload.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you, Mom. But I’m not sorry he’s dead. And it doesn’t change the past. I got so sick of feeling like I was behind a wall at a zoo. I could see and be seen, but no one touched, no one talked. It was killing me, slowly, painfully. So I took my chances out in the world.”

  He told her about living at the youth shelter, and finishing high school by the skin of his teeth. He told her about college, his friends, and his job. By the end of the story, Amelia was crying again, silently this time. She reached out and took his hand in a surprisingly strong grip.

  “I’m so, so proud of you, and of the man you became, despite us. I know I failed you. I was raised in a different time —not that it’s any excuse. I was scared of what would happen to our family. And your father….well, we know how that went. I should have taken time to find out more about what was going on with you —done research, got counseling. Hindsight, I guess.

  “I’d love to…I mean, if you’re willing…it would be wonderful if we could start over, get to know each other again. I’ll even join PFLAG,” she said with a chuckle. She sobered and looked straight at him. “I’ll do anything not to lose you again.”

  Justice wiped his face and realized that he, too, was crying. He never imagined that either of his parents was out there, wondering about him, wishing they could do things over. He thought about what Nic had said about there never being enough time. He was right. Again.

  “I’d like that.”

  * * * *

  Justice and his mother had spent three days getting to know one another again, and re-establishing their relationship, when she finally asked the one question that cut him so deep, he was sure he bled.

  “So, Honey, are you seeing anyone special?”

  He froze where he was sitting in front of the television. She had walked in behind him from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish rag. And now she was staring at him in concern. Shit, how long had he been sitting there, not answering?

  “Um…ahem…there was someone that was, you know…special. It didn’t work out though,” he stammered. He prayed silently that she would just let it go.

  “Well, why the hell not?”

  No such luck, then. Just like the rest of his goddamned life. “Look, Ma, it was a tough time. After I left…” There was a pregnant pause, in which they both knew lay the reasons why he left. No need to rehash them. “I went back in the closet. I was afraid to tell anyone else.

  “When I met him, I had just been outed to my friends, and I wasn’t handling it very well. Well he wanted…he deserved to be with someone who could proudly be seen in public with him; someone who wasn’t afraid of living his own life. I couldn’t be that for him. Not back then.”

  “Uh huh,” she said ambiguously. “What about now?”

  “What about now? He lives in Seattle. I live in Charleston. I haven’t even talked to him since I left.”

  “So?”

  Was she being deliberately obtuse? “So, it wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Long distance doesn’t work.”

  Amelia gave him a pitying look; the kind of look someone would give a slow child who couldn’t figure out a math problem. She came and sat beside him on the couch. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and brushed his curls out of his eyes.

  “Baby, let me ask you something. Why do you still live in South Carolina?”

  “’Cause it’s home. It’s always been home. I couldn’t stay in Leedsville after…you know. But South Carolina is my home.”

  “But why is it your home?”

  “Because I grew up here. My family —such as it was —has always been here.”

  “So this is your home because the people you loved —more or less —were here.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “And your young man…” She gestured for him to fill in the missing information.

  “Nic. Nic Valentine,” Justice said reluctantly.

  “Yes, your Nic. Do you love him?”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it, but he just co
uldn’t. He missed Nic more every day since he left Seattle. He’d only been living half a life; just going through the motions. “Yeah. More than anything.”

  “Then maybe it’s time to consider making your home where the person you love is…again.”

  Justice stared at the television without truly seeing it. It was just a weather report about a storm riding the west coast. South Carolina likely wouldn’t even see a drop of rain from it. His mind was, instead, on his mother’s words. He loved Nic, so could he just…go be with Nic? Was home really just where the heart was? The old cliché teased the corners of his mind, laughing at him, because clichés were such for a reason, right?

  “Mom…maybe you’re right.”

  She patted him on the shoulder briskly. “Of course I am, dear.”

  “But what about you?”

  She turned back towards him with a fierce look in her eyes, one that had him fighting the urge to shrink away. “You listen to me. I don’t want you compromising any bit of your happiness for me. Never again. If you’re serious about wanting me in your life, even though I don’t deserve it —then I’ll move to fucking Seattle too!”

  “Mom!” He’d never heard his meek Southern belle of a mother use that kind of language.

  “That’ll show you how serious I am. I want you to follow your heart and be happy. Don’t you worry about me. I’m not going to lose you again.”

  Justice smiled at her, grateful to have someone on his side again after so much time alone, and he kissed her weathered cheek. “Thanks, Ma.”

  She gave him a brilliant smile before getting up to return to her chores. Justice’s phone started jingling from the pocket of his jacket that was hung over the back of the couch. He stared absently at the weather report while fishing it out.

  The caller ID showed a restricted number. Curious, he decided to answer. “Hello?”

  “Justice?” It was Samara. Her voice was as hollow and brittle as a winter wind. It blew through him he was like a forest of naked saplings. It turned his blood to ice.

  “What’s happened?”

  Her voice broke on a choked sob. “It’s Nic.”