THE STUDIO IN THE COUNTRY, Part 8

For this installment, my usual announcements have been simplified.

STORY? NOT REAL!
CHARACTERS? NOT REAL!
COMMENTS ON REAL PEOPLE? NOT REAL!
SANTA CLAUS? NOT REAL! (I apologize to any readers who didn't know Santa Claus wasn't real. I know he's not because the Easter Bunny told me during last week's poker game.)

OFFENDED BY HOMOSEXUALITY? GO AWAY!
UNDER 18? GO AWAY!
ILLEGAL TO READ IN YOUR AREA? GO AWAY!
READ ONLY PIG LATIN? OGAY WAYWAY!

COMMENTS? EMAIL michaelwashere@netzero.net
PICTURES? VISIT michaelwashere.homepage.com

 

THE STUDIO IN THE COUNTRY

Part 8 - Thursday Morning

I woke up about 6:30 the next morning, when the sunlight hit my windows. Normally, I like that. I leap out of bed and get busy right away. There have been a lot of times when I had my entire day's work done by 10am and could spend the rest of the day reading, writing or playing my keyboards.

But Brian had kept me up until almost 3am, so today I turned over and started to go back to sleep. I never made it.

Thinking about how late I'd stayed up made me think about Brian and all we'd said to each other last night. We'd talked about a lot of things, but I knew there was more. There were probably a lot of things Brian had thought about during the past year that he hadn't mentioned. And there were definitely things that were going to come up that Brian hadn't anticipated. Being gay is different for everyone. Some commonalties bind us together: the anxiousness, the nervousness, the fear, the excitement, agonizing over whom to tell and when. But there are enough differences to make the experience unique for everyone.

I was glad that I could help Brian. And he had Howie too. But I knew that no matter how many good, understanding friends a guy had, there were still a lot of feelings and situations that you had to face alone. I hoped that Brian's family would be as understanding and supportive as mine had been. I thought they probably would: it must have taken quite a family to produce a guy as nice and level-headed as Brian was, especially considering how crazy his life must be.

 

Then I began to get nostalgic. I spent a couple of minutes thinking about what I'd gone through in high school. Suspecting it, realizing it, then finally accepting it. I'd told Mike and Ethan first, then my parents, then Robby.

I smiled when I remembered Robby's reaction. I wasn't really that nervous, I remembered. Ethan and Mike had been supportive, and so had my parents. And Robby was easily the most open and accepting one of all. We were watching movies one night when Ethan and I were home for the weekend. Robby and I had gone into the kitchen to make microwave popcorn and get everyone some drinks.

I kept trying to talk to Robby, but he was distracted by the popcorn: getting a big enough bowl, making sure it didn't burn, all kinds of little things. He could hear what I said, but he wasn't really listening. Eventually the popcorn stopped popping. He pulled it out—I can still see him standing there, one hand on the microwave door and burning the other on the popcorn bag. He dumped the popcorn in a bowl and started sampling it, all the time absently saying "Uh, huh" to whatever I said, so I'd think he was really listening.

Finally, I'd had enough. He was reaching for the salt shaker when I grabbed his chin in my hands and held his face up so he was looking straight into my eyes. "Robby," I said firmly, "I'm gay."

"I know," he said. "Can I have the salt?"

"You know! How do you know?"

He shrugged, like it was no big deal. Not much is a big deal to Robby. "I don't know. I figured it out a long time ago."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Another shrug. "I thought you'd tell me when you were ready to tell me." He grinned at me. "Finally figured it out, huh? Good for you, big brother. Now gimme the salt before this gets cold."

 

I was still remembering this when I also remembered my promise to Brian the night before. "Shit," I said, jumping out of bed. In my living room, I grabbed the phone and called the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"Mike," I said, "have you talked to any of the guys this morning?"

"No, the only person I've seen is Mom," Mike said, sounding a little sleepy. "Is anything wrong?"

"Brian and Kevin told me last night—well, early this morning, really—that they're gonna have some kind of meeting this morning." I was deliberately vague. It was Brian's decision to tell Mike anything. "They're gonna call when they're ready for breakfast, and I'm gonna take it up to their rooms."

There was a pause. "You're gonna take it up?" Mike asked.

"Yeah."

"And you don't know when they're gonna call?"

"No, not really," I told him.

"So you don't know when you need to be ready to carry the food up?"

"No, I don't," I said. What's up with all the questions, I thought.

"Then we really need to be ready with the food pretty much any time?"

"Yeah." Another question.

"Then get down here now so you can be ready," Mike said. "And as long as you're here, you can help me get breakfast." He had me. I should have recognized Mom's technique at work but I was still sleepy.

"I'll be down in a few," I laughed and hung up.

 

A quick shower later, I stepped out into the hall, dressed in my usual casual, day-at-the-office clothes. I found Mike in the kitchen, stirring eggs in a large glass bowl. He had bowls of various ingredients setting in a tray of ice on the island. Behind him there were four omelet pans on the stove and small mound of sticky eggshells on the countertop. Mike was a good cook most of the time, but he made the biggest mess of any of us.

I stepped up and took the glass bowl and whisk from him. "Thanks," he said, glad to let me finish the eggs.

"Just doing this so you can clean up the eggshells before they dry and stick to the counter," I said with a thin smile.

He turned and looked at the sticky pile for a second. "Maybe they're not eggshells," he said as he turned back around. "Maybe it's sculpture."

I just smiled at him. "I don't know art, but I know what Mom hates." Seconds later, the shells were in the bucket for the compost pile and Mike was wiping up the counter with a sponge.

 

Breakfast was uneventful. One by one, people wandered in to get coffee. Dave disappeared into the studio pretty quickly, but the others came into the kitchen to see what they could get in an omelet. Mike would mix up the ingredients and cook up the omelets pretty expertly. Dave, Robby and Ed didn't stay long; they took their coffee to the dining room and I took their omelets to them when they were ready. Ms. Shaw, however, sat in a stool at the island and talked to us while her omelet was cooking.

"I'm gonna miss this place," she said. "This has been the quietest, most relaxing week of work I've ever had."

I smiled at her. "You don't miss the excitement of the city?"

"Orlando?" she asked. "No, I don't miss Orlando. I've been there four years, but it still doesn't feel like home. I grew up on a farm, and I love the peace and quiet."

"Then why do you live in Orlando?" Mike asked her.

"Because that's where my job is, and I love my job; stress, headaches and all." She sipped at her coffee then asked, "Where are the Boys this morning?"

I hesitated, wondering how to answer this without betraying Brian or worrying Ms. Shaw. I was still pondering when Mike said, "They're having some kind of meeting this morning, and Ben's gonna take breakfast up to them."

"Meeting!" she said. "What kind of meeting?" The relaxed woman we'd been talking to was gone; the pushy exec from the airport was back. Where's Ed when we need him? I thought.

"I don't know," I said. "Kevin and Brian just said they were all gonna sleep in and then chill in their rooms this morning."

She calmed down a bit. "Well, they're probably just being lazy while they can."

I decided we needed to change the subject a bit anyway. "You think this place is relaxing," I said, "but what about the guys? There's not much to do here at night. Have they been bored this week?"

She thought about this. "I don't think so. They get lots of excitement, and they seem to have enjoyed just relaxing a bit. I know Howie has enjoyed this place. And Kevin."

"But," Mike started, "Nick and AJ have had all the quiet they can handle. I'm afraid they're going a little stir crazy."

"City boys," she said with a smile. "No appreciation for country life."

Mike was putting her finished omelet on a plate. I looked at it and tried not to make a disgusted face: I'll never understand how people can eat mushrooms.

"Well," Mike was saying, "if they're done for the week, maybe the guys won't have to stay out here much longer."

"Possibly." Ms Shaw was on her feet. Plate in one hand and coffee cup in the other, she headed toward the door. "Dave wants the morning to assess everything. We should know more about our schedule by lunchtime."

I got a weird feeling, like a light punch in the stomach when she said that. At lunch we'd find out if the guys were staying 'til Monday or leaving tomorrow. Since they first mentioned it yesterday, it had become very important to me that they stay. I liked these guys, and suddenly the idea of our big place without them there seemed awfully lonely. Mike and Robby had both talked about how lonely the place could be. Even Ethan mentioned it sometimes when he was here. But it had never seemed lonely to me. Until now.

 

Mike had been talking, but I only noticed it when he was already in mid-sentence. "...guys would just call, I could start cleaning and be done with this."

We decided to start the cleaning anyway. We had rinsed what plates and cups and tableware we could and put them into the dishwasher in minutes. Mike was putting the ingredient bowls into the fridge, and I was dumping out the pan of ice when the kitchen phone rang.

Mike picked it up. He said, "Kitchen," then paused a second before saying, "Hey, AJ. What do you guys want in your omelets?" He named the possible ingredients, then started making a list on Mom's yellow pad. After he finished writing he said, "Sure thing" and handed the phone to me.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver.

"Hey, Ben," AJ said, a little quieter than normal. "I hear you and Brian had a long talk last night." He sounded cheerful, but I wasn't sure what it was safe to say.

"Has Brian been talking to you guys already?"

"Yeah," AJ said. "He and Kevin woke us up about 7:30, and we've been talking ever since. Are you gonna bring the breakfast up?"

I glanced at Mike but kept talking. "Yeah, I'm gonna bring it up." Mike glanced at me when he heard that then went back to work.

"Good," AJ said. "Brian says he told you everything, so we don't have to worry about explaining what you'll see when you get up here." His voice dropped to more of a whisper when he added, "It's been pretty emotional up here."

"I can imagine," I said quietly. "Anything I can do?"

"No, we're okay up here," AJ replied. "It just might look a little odd. See you when you get up here."

 

Mike and I loaded up the kitchen cart, and I pushed it to the elevator. Once on the second floor, I headed for Kevin and AJ's room and knocked on the door. After a second or two, AJ opened it and smiled at me.

"Hey, food's here," he said into the room. "And it brought Ben." I pushed the cart into the room and stopped it near the dining table.

The guys were sitting in the living area of the room. Brian was sitting in the middle of the couch. Nick was on one side of him, leaning back with his hand flat against Brian's back. Howie was on Brian's other side, leaning in to him with his arm over Brian's shoulders. All three of them were red-eyed. So was Kevin, who was sitting in the chair facing the couch. He gave me a small smile when I turned from the food to look at them. AJ was still standing by the door with his hand on the knob, a subtle enough way to tell me I wasn't staying long.

"Here's your breakfast," I said quietly. "Five omelets plus some sausage, fruit and cereal that Mike added. Just leave the dishes on the table and we'll take care of them later."

I got five quiet "thank you"s from the guys. No one said anything more, so I added, "Well, I'll leave you guys alone."

I was almost out the door when Brian said softly, "I told them." I stopped and looked at him. He was looking up at me, his blue eyes looking so tired and cried-out that I felt sorry for him. "I told them that I'm gay."

I just looked back at him. I wanted to run over and grab him, to hug him and hold him and comfort him. I surprised myself with how strong the impulse was. But I just looked back at him and asked, "You're sure then?"

"I'm sure," was his simple reply. "I was sure last night. I just wasn't ready to admit it."

After a pause, I said, "It's a hard thing to admit. Is everything okay?"

Brian shot a look at his cousin before saying, "Everything's okay." Too much crying and talking had left his voice sounding tired and ragged, but I could also hear some of the insecurity I'd heard in him yesterday. But then his beautiful grin returned as he looked at Nick and Howie. "The guys have been really great."

Howie looked at Brian. Brian looked at Nick. Nick looked at Brian, then at Howie who seemed to nod very slightly. Then Nick sighed heavily and said, "We've been through this a couple of times before." His voice was quiet as he glanced at me. Howie and Brian were looking at me too, both with the tiniest of smiles. Kevin was glowering at Nick.

I glanced over at AJ. AJ looked at me, and then a big smile broke on his face. "You're trying to guess who, aren't you?" he said with a big grin. "Don't look at me."

"It's me," Howie said. His eyes were even bigger than I'd ever seen them, a minor accomplishment in itself.

"And me," Nick whispered, still looking into my eyes. "I'm not gay; I'm bi. But I don't do much of anything to tell the truth," he added with a little laugh.

It was my turn to smile. "I appreciate you guys trusting me," I said, my voice quiet and—I hope—sincere. "And you can trust me. No one will hear about this from me. Not even my brothers."

"Mike knows," Nick said. He glanced at Brian and Howie but avoided looking at Kevin. "Mike knows about me," he explained.

"I still won't bring it up with him," I said. "Your life is yours to talk about. I don't need to." I made myself look at Kevin; he looked back at me. If I had to describe his expression, I'd call it "relief."

 

 

"Look," I went on, "you guys have a lot to talk about. I'll leave you alone. I'll be in my office 'til lunch if you need anything."

AJ let me out, and I headed to the elevator. The doors opened immediately, and I was stepping in when I heard their room open again. "Ben, wait up!" Nick yelled, running down the hall toward me. I waited for him. Beside me, the elevator doors slid closed.

"Ben," Nick said when he'd reached me, "thanks for listening to Brian last night. He's needed to talk to someone for a long time."

"He hasn't talked to you guys about it?" I asked. This had confused me a little. All week these guys had seemed as close as their PR said. I'd wondered last night why Brian would talk to me instead of his friends, his own cousin even.

"No," Nick answered. "I think he needed to talk to someone who's not affected by this. Someone whose life—or career—isn't tied up with his." He smiled at me, and for the first time Nick seemed to me to be more than an overgrown cute kid. There was more to him than I'd seen before. "I'm glad you were here," he added.

"No problem," I said. "I live here."

Nick grinned at me. "You say 'no problem' a lot, don't you?"

I grinned back and said, "Yeah."

"No problem," he said. "I just wanted to thank you," he added, turning into the serious, grown-up Nick again. "You've been a good friend to Brian this week, and I'm glad we met you."

"And Brian's lucky to have the four of you to accept him and support him. He'll need you."

Nick's face darkened, and his voice became unsure. "Yeah, well..." he began then trailed off. He didn't continue. I was dying to hear the rest of it, but I was good and said the right thing.

 

"Nick, don't tell me anything you shouldn't"

"It's just that Kevin is not happy about this at all," he said quickly. "He had problems with Howie, then with me. But he eventually got over it. But Brian's family, and he's taking this really hard."

"He's not making this hard on Brian, is he?" I asked without thinking. Of course, it was none of my business, but I was more concerned about Brian than manners at the moment.

Nick didn't seem to mind the question. "Not really," he said a little hesitantly. "But Brian definitely knows how Kevin feels. And I think it's hurting him."

"You said Kevin had problems with you and Howie, but he eventually accepted it," I said. "Maybe he'll do the same thing again."

"Maybe." Nick didn't sound at all convinced.

I smiled, wanting to say something light and hopefully reassuring. All I came up with was, "It's very complicated, isn't it?" Nick smiled a little. I added, "If coming out were easy, I wonder how many more of us would do it."

"Us?" Nick asked, his eyebrows rising. "You're gay?"

I shook my head slightly. "You didn't know either?"

"No," he said. "I hoped," he grinned, "but I didn't know." He leaned over and said a little conspiratorially, "If I'd known, I would have spent more time with you from the beginning." Standing up straight again, he added, "Oh, well, too late now."

"What does that mean?" I asked him.

"Well, I think Howie likes you," he smiled. "Maybe Brian does too. I don't know."

I didn't know how to take this news. I was still trying to absorb it when the door opened again. We heard AJ's voice say, "Nick, are you coming back or what?"

Nick whirled and asked, a little worry in his voice, "Something wrong?"

AJ evidently heard the worry and laughed in response. "Nothing's wrong with Brian," he said, "but your breakfast is in serious danger of being eaten."

Nick was smiling when he turned back to me. "This is certainly an interesting place you guys run here. See you at lunch?"

"I'll be there," I said.

 

A PLEA FOR INFORMATION: When I started this, all I knew about these guys was what I'd read here. Since then I've been doing more reading and listening to their music than I'd ever done before, but I'm still pretty ignorant. There are two subjects I need to know more about: their 1999 tour schedule and stories behind the making of Millennium. If anyone knows where I can find such things—especially on the Internet, please let me know. Thanks.

Y'know, it's odd, but the more I learn about what Brian is like in real life, the more attractive Howie is becoming to me. There, now if that's not an invitation for hate mail, I don't know what is.

By the way, if you ever play poker with the Easter Bunny, his ears twitch when he's bluffing.