For Mac (20 page)

There was a long silence, then Branson nodded. Liam took that to mean that he was open to getting help.

“I have the name of a great therapist, Bran, if you want it,” Liam offered, and then waited for Branson’s reaction. “She sees a lot of family members of patients at Silver Linings. She specializes in depression due to loss but of course sees patients for a variety of things. She also runs a support group if you decide you want to talk to others who are going through the same stuff: people with loved ones in comas, or vegetative states, or who have died.”

Branson nodded again. And Liam dug in his pocket for the appropriate business card.

It was actually Branson who broke the awkward silence, though his melancholy tone didn’t at all fit with the words he said. “We need popcorn for the movie.”

“It’s ten o’clock in the morning. Isn’t it too early for popcorn?” Liam chuckled.

“Never a wrong time for popcorn, man.” Branson squeezed Liam’s shoulder quickly and headed for the kitchen.

Liam didn’t follow, recognizing the ploy as Branson’s need for space to be able to regroup.

T
HEY
SPENT
the rest of the day on the sofa, watching various movies. They kept conversation light and stayed away from anything remotely controversial or personal. Liam wasn’t sure how much any further comment from him would be welcomed.

Branson himself brought it up as the credits of the previous movie ran on the screen but before Liam could get up to change the DVD.

“You know,” he said, in barely more than a whisper. “You’re not the first person who thought I might be depressed.”

Liam wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he gave Branson his undivided attention and waited.

“Andy and Amy have mentioned it from time to time over the years, especially in the last year, and Mama White all but begged me to get help after the… well… the bathtub thing.” He looked straight ahead, avoiding Liam’s eyes, but was still speaking. “I asked Mac about it once, wondered if he thought I should. He was dead set against it. ‘No brother of mine is gonna need a shrink,’ he said. So I never went.”

When it seemed that Branson had come to a lull in his monologue, Liam interjected, taking a chance and finally saying something he’d been thinking for a while now. “Forgive me for saying so, bud, but I don’t think I would have liked Mac much.”

Branson chuckled, but it sounded too close to hysterical for Liam’s liking.

“Yeah,” Branson agreed. “I doubt that you would have. And I doubt he would have wanted you around me, let alone him, sorry to say. Especially if he knew you were gay. He was a bit… opinionated.”

“A bit,” Liam snickered. “Yeah, it sounds like he might have been a bit opinionated.”

“He meant well.” Branson’s voice was quiet again. “I really think he meant well.”

“I’m sure he did, Bran.” Liam could agree to that, even if he didn’t at all agree with Mac’s methods. “He did the best he could. I’m sure he did. He was thrust into a situation that he wasn’t truly equipped to handle. I doubt anyone in the exact same position could have done much better. It still doesn’t mean the whole situation didn’t screw you both up a wee bit.”

Branson’s laugh came closer to hysteria. “Yeah, a wee bit.” But when his giggles turned into sobs, Liam gathered him close and kissed his hair.

“Shhh, Bran.” He held him tight. “We’ll figure it all out… together. Okay?”

Bran nodded against his chest, and they stayed that way long after the lengthy movie credits had finished. They sat there in silence, Liam holding Branson close and Branson holding on for dear life.

Branson

L
ATER
THAT
evening, Liam announced that he needed to go home. They both had work the next morning. Branson had walked him to the door, and Liam had gathered him into a warm embrace and kissed him on the top of the head. Branson had to smile when he saw his car in the driveway. Of course Andy and Amy would have heard about what had happened the day before and made arrangements to bring him his car. He was glad he had friends like them, and now Liam too.

He couldn’t believe he had actually talked about all that: about being depressed, about needing help. He knew Liam had a point, though. Branson wasn’t suicidal right now, hadn’t been for years, but he still wasn’t enjoying life. He felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He felt isolated and lonely even when he was with other people. He felt guilty over Mac, about his feelings for Liam, and for pushing everyone away, whether they thought he was or not. He knew he couldn’t go on like that.

He turned the card Liam had given him over and over in his hands.
Dr. Patricia Luxton
,
Psychologist
, Branson read silently. He didn’t really want to go to
that
kind of doctor. He didn’t want to admit he needed help. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Mac’s voice telling him it was weak to need help. That there was something wrong with people who went to psychologists, and no brother of his was ever going to see one.

He loved Mac. He really did. But maybe what everyone had been telling him for years made sense. Maybe he needed to start living his life for himself and not for Mac. As much as he admired his brother, as much as he had always needed him, maybe it really was time—past time—for Branson to make up his own mind about things. Many things.

He made a mental list.

How do I feel about going to a therapist
? he asked himself. He didn’t want to ask for help. He didn’t want to feel weak. He didn’t want to disappoint Mac. But he didn’t want to feel like this anymore either. So that was actually an easy one. He’d call Dr. Luxton tomorrow and give it a try. He could always quit going if he found it didn’t help, but he knew he had to do something and do it now before all of this got even worse.

How do I feel about Liam
? Another easy one. He admired Liam: his patience, his intelligence, his compassion. Branson felt like he had found a kindred spirit. Liam liked the same things he did. They enjoyed each other’s company. Liam understood him like no one else ever had, and he was willing to wait as long as necessary for Branson to make up his mind and was willing to be a friend forever if Branson decided that was all he wanted. But that wasn’t all Branson wanted. He realized that he’d wanted more for some time now. Branson thought he probably loved Liam, was pretty sure he did.

How do I feel about that? How do I feel about wanting, maybe at some point having, a relationship with Liam?
Branson had to be honest with himself. He didn’t really know. The nagging inner voice that sounded a lot like Mac said he should be ashamed of that and run as far and as fast as he could. But the bigger part didn’t want to run at all. He wanted to be with Liam, he wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to do more than that. But he was scared too. He had never done anything like that—well, past the one kiss with Liam—with a man and had damned little experience with women
.
What if I try that, and I’m no good at it? What if I find I don’t like it? What if Liam doesn’t like it with me?
This was turning out to be a pretty convoluted question, so Branson decided to put that one on the back burner and go on to the next on his mental list.

How do I feel about being gay in general? About admitting, at least to my friends, that I am gay?
This was the hardest question yet. He wasn’t at all sure what he thought.
What if Mac wakes up? What would he say? How could I face him?
But then, everyone had been telling him to try to figure out what his life would be like if not guided by Mac’s opinions. So he tried to think beyond that. He knew he had a support system. He knew Amy, Andy, and Mama White would stand by him, no matter what he decided or what he declared. He knew Liam would be waiting for him, and he could openly have that relationship. He wouldn’t have to hide like he had heard other men who didn’t want to come out, not around his friends anyway.

What would be the reaction at work? Do I want to come out at work? Is it fair to Liam if I was only out to a few people?
Branson realized that if he didn’t want people at work to find out, he’d have to be careful about how he acted in public with Liam. He wouldn’t be able to hold his hand, to sit too close, to gaze into his eyes. He chuckled at that thought. He had never thought of himself as a big eye-gazer, but for Liam he would definitely make an exception. The man had beautiful blue eyes, and Branson would be happy to lose himself in them forever. He decided that no, he wouldn’t want to hide at all. It was all or nothing as far as he was concerned. Either he didn’t admit being gay to anyone or he admitted it to everyone; not that he’d necessarily go out of his way to tell people, but he wouldn’t hide.

Branson realized that, during the course of all this introspection, not once had he asked himself
if
he was gay, only whether he wanted to tell people and whether he wanted to act on it. He never once thought that he didn’t want to be gay, only that Mac would be upset if he found out.
Maybe self-analysis is a good thing. I’ve actually come to terms with things “a wee bit.”
He mentally copied Liam’s Irish brogue when he said that last part and actually chuckled out loud.

B
RANSON
WENT
in to work bright and early the next day but sat in the car for a while. He kept thinking of the decision he had made yesterday to see a psychologist. He pulled the card out of his pocket and decided to call Dr. Luxton right then. He didn’t want anyone at work to find out that he was seeing
that
type of doctor, so he didn’t want to make the call from his office, and he didn’t think he’d remember to call at lunch.

So he sat in his parked car in front of the agency and made the call he thought he’d never make. He still wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about going to a therapist, and he was pretty sure he still didn’t want to tell anyone about it, but he knew it was a step he needed to take. All in all, he thought he was handling everything pretty well, considering, but he could probably benefit from having someone to whom he could unload all his worry and concern and screwed up feelings of guilt, someone who didn’t know Mac and didn’t have a personal interest in either Mac or Branson, someone he didn’t have to worry about upsetting or offending.

He was lucky. There had been a cancelation for that Wednesday, so he made an appointment for 3:00 p.m. He didn’t think Tom would mind him leaving early, and he could still meet Liam somewhere for the evening.

T
HE
REST
of the day and the next followed his current schedule. He worked until five o’clock, went to visit Mac for a while, and then met Liam for dinner.

On Tuesday they decided to go to the theater instead of watching movies at Branson’s house.
Rise of the Guardians
had come out the previous week, and they had been trying to decide if they really wanted to go to a theater, two grown men with no kids, to see an animated movie.

“But it’s Chris Pine!” Liam had said.

Branson knew he was much more concerned with what the public thought than Liam was, even about the small things, but he was finally able to talk himself into going and to hell with what anyone else thought. Liam came up with the idea to go during the week so there would be fewer rug rats to contend with, and Branson agreed, thinking it would probably look less like a date that way too.

As it turned out, the entire theater consisted of himself and Liam and three teenaged girls.
I guess Liam was right about the lack of rug rats at this time
, he mused to himself. He thought it would be a good thing to basically have the theater to themselves, but it didn’t turn out that way. It only served to expose them to scrutiny all the more.

The teens kept turning around and giggling, and the staff continuously came in to “check on things.” Branson was rethinking the idea of possibly coming out. If this was the kind of attention they were going to get when they were only sitting together, imagine how much worse it would be if it was common knowledge that he was gay. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could be, he realized that, but it was enough to be annoying, and Branson had never done particularly well with annoying.

He finally couldn’t take it anymore and moved a seat to the right. He hadn’t stopped to think what it might look like to Liam or what he might feel about it. He hadn’t told Liam he was moving or explained why. He simply moved. Branson caught a quick look of puzzlement, then disappointment on Liam’s face before he schooled his features, sighed, and perched the popcorn on the now folded seat between them.

T
HE
CAR
ride to Branson’s house was congenial enough. They talked about how much they liked the movie and how they could envision Chris Pine playing the part, despite the age problem, if it had been live action instead of animated. Liam was comfortable enough with his sexuality to admit that his reaction to a real-life Chris Pine would have been similar to that of the little tooth fairies: namely to sigh longingly and practically swoon.

All that did, however, was bring Branson’s attention back to the whole situation in the theater that had made him move.

“I’m sorry for moving, by the way.” He felt he owed Liam an apology and at least an attempt at an explanation. “It wasn’t personal.”

Liam seemed to think before he responded. “I know, Bran. I’m fine with it.”

“Are you?” Branson wasn’t sure why he was pushing this. “Because it seemed like you were disgruntled with me at the time.”

“I’m human, Bran.” Liam sighed. “I was disappointed. We were commenting all the way through the movie, like we do at home, compliments of having the theater mostly to ourselves. Once you moved, we couldn’t do that, and the movie wasn’t as much fun. But we were still able to watch it together. You didn’t feel the need to leave altogether. I’m grateful for that.”