Just Julian

by Markus Harwood-Jones

  Impulsively, Julian blurted out, “This is one of my favourite restaurants!” Letting out a laugh, he added, “Goddess, that makes me sound like such a dork, right? But it’s really cool — I promise. They have all this organic, local, vegetarian stuff. Did I mention my mom is vegetarian? And, so, I am too, pretty much, I guess. Oh, and they share all the work in this place in a really cool way — like nobody’s the owner. Like kind of a commune? They switch jobs every few weeks so everyone has to wash the dishes at least sometimes!” Julian found he was going on and on, unable to stop, only pausing to nervously giggle. He was totally losing his cool. Finally, he looked up to find that Romeo wasn’t even looking at him.

  Romeo’s eyes were glancing all around the restaurant, taking in the other tables and reading the menu scrawled on the wall in chalk. Julian coughed, cutting himself short. He took a moment to glance at the food options too, even though he knew them well.

  Silence sat between them, again, broken only by brief talk about what they might like to eat. Julian hopped up to place their order at the counter. When he sat back down, Romeo had a confession.

  “I’m not exactly . . . out,” Romeo admitted, in nearly a whisper.

  Julian raised an eyebrow. It was an odd place to start a conversation, but there they were.

  “So, when did you, uh . . .” Romeo went on, “decide? Or, like, know . . . you know?” He stumbled over his words.

  Julian shrugged. “Well, it’s easier when your mom’s out before you are.”

  “What?” Romeo asked.

  “My mom’s been doing activist stuff my whole life. She was out as bi before I was even born! My cousin too, he’s had a couple boyfriends . . .” Julian trailed off as his thoughts turned to Ty. What would Ty think if he saw Julian on a date with one of the guys he’d kicked out of Lyla’s party not even twenty-four hours earlier?

  “So, were you raised to be gay?”

  “I don’t really like labels,” Julian replied.

  “But you like guys, right?” Romeo asked, a little hesitant.

  “I like people,” Julian replied. “I like you.” Taking a deep breath, he fought against his nerves and asked, “What about you?”

  “What about me?” Romeo asked back. Julian raised an eyebrow and Romeo smirked, blushing a little. “I guess . . . I like you?”

  Just then, their order number was called, and Julian jumped to the counter, bringing back plates of hot, delicious-looking food to the table — one order of deep fried tofu, and one “B”LT.

  “So what’s your dad like?” Romeo asked, poking at his meal. “Is he, uh, like your mom?”

  Julian winced. “I don’t really know,” he answered, pushing his food around. “My mom doesn’t like to talk about him. My cousin used to, sometimes, but we haven’t really talked in a while . . .” Julian looked down as a wave of anxiety squeezed his gut. Just who was this boy anyway? Who did he think he was, asking all these questions — they barely knew each other! Did he really expect Julian just to open up and lay it all out there? A pang of guilt hit his chest. His thoughts racing, Julian mumbled, “I just miss him.”

  “Who, your dad?” Romeo asked.

  Julian shook his head. “No. I mean, yes. But no, I mean my cousin.” With a sigh, he figured there was no point in holding back. Maybe it would be nice to talk to someone who didn’t know the rest of his friends and family. “He’s from my dad’s side, but I don’t really know his parents either. I think his mom was my dad’s sister? Anyway, we used to be really close. He’d come over, make up games, tell me stories, that sort of thing.” With a laugh, he added, “And he’d always stay for dinner! I don’t think my mom liked that too much. But she wasn’t about to turn down a free babysitter! She was still in school to be a nurse back then.”

  Romeo nodded with understanding. After a moment, he cautiously asked, “So what happened to him?”

  Julian bit his lip, picking apart pieces of his food without thinking. “He got locked up,” Julian admitted. Romeo didn’t look like he understood, so Julian explained, “Corrections.”

  Romeo was silent.

  Julian looked up, studying the ceiling. “I used to write him letters. I kept saying I’d come visit. But I never did get down there in person.”

  “I’m sure he understands,” Romeo offered in a gentle voice.

  “He’s out now,” Julian explained. “But we haven’t really had a chance to talk.” He looked down at the table, studying the scratches that stood out against the checkerboard design. “I just . . . I don’t know.”

  Wordlessly, Romeo leaned forward and offered his hand. Julian looked up and accepted it, the warmth of Romeo’s touch bringing him back to the moment. They sat in comfortable silence for a while.

  Julian ran his thumb along the edge of Romeo’s hand. “It’s nice to talk about this stuff.” He smiled softly and added, “It’s nice to be with you.”

  Romeo began to blush again.

  07

  Raised Eyebrows

  The evening ran on. Not wanting their time together to end, Julian impulsively invited Romeo to go home with him. On their way, they dared to share a quick kiss in public. The act sent shivers of both fear and excitement through Julian’s body. When they arrived at his house, those feelings began to flutter in his stomach once again.

  They went through the old wooden gate which, as usual, hung open — the lock had broken long ago. They made their way along the cracked sidewalk, up the creaking porch stairs, and arrived at the chipped paint on the front door.

  “It’s . . .” Julian bit at his bottom lip. “Probably not like the kind of homes you’re used to in the suburbs.” He watched Romeo out of the corner of his eye, waiting for some snide remark. Things were going too well. There had to be some nasty side to this guy that Julian just hadn’t seen yet. Maybe now Romeo would reveal his true snobby self.

  Romeo paused. Julian fiddled with his keys, bracing for the worst. Finally, Romeo asked, “Did you make that?”

  Julian followed Romeo’s gaze to the mural on the front of the house. It was so old and familiar Julian often forgot it was even there. “Mostly it was my mom,” he answered. His mind went back to the days he’d spent outside with her. Back when things seemed just a little warmer, when summer lasted just a little longer. His mom laughed more then, teasing Ty when he’d come around. Looking over at the mural, lit up only by the lights from the street, Julian remembered the way his mother had made the swirling stars, teaching him how to pull the brush without dripping the paint. And there were Julian’s doodles along the edges, with his name signed next to his mom’s, at the bottom. Looking up at Romeo, Julian saw him taking in the piece with awe. Watching him see the mural for the first time, felt kind of like Julian was seeing it for the first time, too. “It’s pretty cool, I guess,” Julian admitted. He turned the key in the door and motioned for Romeo to follow him inside.

  Julian had barely taken a step in when a voice called out from the kitchen. “Is that my boy?!”

  “Mom!” Julian answered. “You’re home!”

  Julian’s mother burst into the hall, stretching her arms out toward her son and wrapping him in a big hug. “Oh, my darling jewel,” she said, squeezing him tightly.

  Once his mom finally let him free, Julian motioned to Romeo standing awkwardly in the doorway. He offered a quick introduction. “Mom, this is Romeo. I’m having him over tonight.”

  Romeo gave a timid wave and Julian’s mother responded with a nod.

  “What kind of a name is Romeo?” she asked in a loud, comedic whisper. Julian smirked and followed her back toward the kitchen. Romeo was just a step behind.

  “Oh, Jules, today was fantastic!” she crowed. “We made such a stink, I bet you anything we made it onto national news!”

  “Right, the demonstration . . .” Julian replied. He was taking in the warmth of the kitchen — a wonderful smel
l was in the air.

  “Joanna was there, of course, with her girl Paris. They are such an adorable pair!” She leaned over and gave Julian a teasing pinch before pulling on her oven mitts. “Now, if only my little darling had been there too!” She turned away, pulling a tray of fresh brownies out of the oven. The sweet smell of chocolate filled up the whole room. Julian leaned in to try and grab a bite but his hands were shooed away.

  “These are hot!” his mother scolded. Setting the brownies on the stove, she added, “Besides, they’re not for you. Not unless you plan on showing up tomorrow night. We’ve got a lot to do before Saturday’s demo, this time we’re going even bigger!” She nudged him. “We could really use you at the planning meeting.”

  Julian just shrugged. His mom knew he’d rather avoid all that political stuff. “We’ll see,” he replied.

  “I’ll get you one of these days — you’ll see. By the time you’re my age, you’ll be the one planning the revolution, while I put my feet up at home!” Julian shrugged again. “Fine, fine,” his mother relented. She motioned to the dishes in the sink. “Now, Jules, would you and your friend be dears and wash these for me?”

  Julian plucked a large, wooden spoon covered in brownie mix from the sink. He took a lick before offering some to Romeo, who chose to pass. Julian started to fill the sink with hot, soapy water. “Got much experience washing dishes?” he asked. Romeo just blushed in response. Julian passed him a drying cloth and the two got to work.

  After a while, Romeo spoke up. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you, Mrs. Capulet.”

  Julian winced. He could feel his mother prickle at the sound of his father’s name. Back when he was in public school, teachers had often made that same mistaken assumption. His mother had quickly corrected them each time. Thankfully, she’d never pressured Julian to change his name, though he was sure she wouldn’t mind if he took her last name instead. But the name was one of the few things his father had left behind. Julian wasn’t about to let it go, even if it made things awkward sometimes.

  “You can call me Angie, Angie Liang,” his mother replied to Romeo.

  Julian looked from Romeo to his mother, wondering how this all must look in Romeo’s eyes. Back when Julian was at school, lots of kids and even teachers had made snide remarks about his mother. Somebody had even started a rumour that Julian was adopted, or even stolen, being raised by a dangerous “bull-dyke.”

  His mother was fabulously fat, broad shouldered, and tall. With beautiful, bronze skin, her wide face was framed by a crew-cut that she bleached and dyed bright violet. On her days off from the hospital, she wrapped herself in bright shirts with radical slogans, or sported her pin-covered denim vest, using every bit of her body to make a statement. She was easily in command of any room, unafraid to speak her mind or step out to the front of a picket line.

  Julian let a lock of his straight, dark hair fall in front of his face. He scrubbed the large pot in the sink, his hands pruning in the hot water. Compared to his mother, he felt small, and unsure of himself. His shorter stature and anxious disposition marked him as his father’s child. At least that’s what Ty had told him, back in the day.

  After a while, Angie seemed to warm up a little to Romeo — at least enough to leave him be. But that meant she turned her attention back to Julian, asking, “So, get your grades yet?”

  “Incomplete,” Julian admitted, pretending to focus on the dishes.

  Angie pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for more.

  Julian sighed. He hadn’t wanted to get into this in front of Romeo. “Pretty much, I failed. They said I ‘deviated from the assignments.’”

  His mother frowned, and looked like she was about to plan her next protest. Julian just looked down at the soapy water again.

  Angie put a hand on her hip with a snort, declaring, “Well, what do they know anyway!” She leaned over and gave Julian a quick kiss on his forehead.

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “They did say I could try a make-up, redo the final essay. So long as I don’t deviate too much . . .” He looked to his mother, hoping she might know what to do. Was it really worth it to risk failing again?

  As if reading his mind, she answered, “It’s up to you then, jewel.” Nudging her hip into him, she added, “Sounds like you’re just too smart for that system.”

  Julian looked up and let out a little laugh. At least she was supportive.

  After dishes were done, Julian pulled Romeo out of the kitchen and upstairs. On his way out, he reached over and nabbed a handful of brownies. Within a moment, Angie called after him, “Oh, Goddess — Julian!” She laughed, “Well, you are my son after all.”

  Julian grinned and continued upstairs. As they reached the top, his mother called out once more. “You know where the condom jar is!”

  “The condom jar?” Romeo asked.

  “Mom’s a very sex-positive feminist,” Julian replied, pulling Romeo into his attic bedroom.

  08

  Bottle Up this Moment

  As usual, Julian’s room was chaos. He hadn’t found the energy to tidy up, and it had been like this for so long now he didn’t care much anymore. He just let things drop where they may and searched for whatever he needed among the varying piles. There was art stuff in one part of the room, clothing shoved near the closet, shoes in a jumble by the door. Julian braced himself for embarrassment. He tried to subtly move some things on the floor around with his feet, clearing a path so they could at least sit on the bed. Romeo barely seemed to notice, too taken with the posters on Julian’s walls and the canvases set up on the far side of the room. After a while, Romeo declared, “This is wonderful.” Julian somehow felt even more embarrassed than if Romeo had made a comment about the mess.

  As they sat on the bed, Julian became intimately aware of how close Romeo’s body was to his own. How nice it might be just to cuddle with someone again. It had been a long time since he’d trusted anyone enough to get this close. There was a faint buzzing in his belly, but it was almost nice, like the feeling he got when he painted.

  Julian was studying Romeo’s face when he spoke up. “Your mom seems cool.”

  Julian looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah, she’s cool, that’s for sure.” Romeo gave him an odd look, so Julian went on. “It’s just . . . sometimes it’s like she’s too cool.” Julian felt tired just thinking about everything she did. “Like, she’s got all these stories to tell, and projects on the go. And somehow finds the energy to work all those long shifts at the hospital.”

  “It’s just the two of you, right?” Romeo said his question like a statement.

  Julian nodded. “It can be lonely sometimes, when she’s not around.” A soft, sad kind of smile crossed his face. “But then, when she’s around all the time, it can get to be too much! Funny how that is . . .”

  Romeo let his hand brush up against Julian’s, sending a shiver between the two of them. He broached another question. “Did you ever know your dad?”

  Julian shrugged, looking down to study the paint speckled on the floor of his room. “Mom doesn’t talk about him too much. I never really got to know him. I don’t even really know what he looks like.”

  “I’m sorry,” Romeo said. “You don’t even have a picture or anything? That . . . sucks.”

  Julian sighed. “My cousin Ty used to tell me about him, sometimes. Apparently they kinda look alike, Ty and my dad — both redheads, though you wouldn’t know it since Ty never lets his hair grow in. Plus, Ty says he’s like, five times bigger than my dad ever was!” Julian let out a little laugh.

  “That’s pretty rough,” Romeo said. He gently ran his hand over Julian’s arm, making the hair stand on end. “No memories of your own . . . Always getting the stories about him second-hand.”

  “But I do remember him!” Julian exclaimed, looking up to Romeo. “Like from when I was really little.” Julian pulled on those dist
ant memories, foggy as they were. “I remember him singing to me.” He smiled. “I even remember, he had a nickname for me — his little fawn, I think.” Romeo smiled and gave a small nod, lightly squeezing Julian’s arm.

  Conversation fell away and the couple leaned back onto the bed, basking in their closeness. Julian loved the smell of Romeo, the taste of him — everything about him was so exciting. He drank Romeo in, every single part of him. His mop of thick, dark hair that twisted between Julian’s fingers. The touch of his fingertips lightly brushing against Julian’s skin. The salty-sweetness of his neck as Julian ran his lips up that strong jawline.

  Julian was amazed at how Romeo could hold his attention, and it wasn’t just his body. As much as it was tempting to just get lost staring at that cute face, Julian found himself entranced as Romeo began to open up about his own family, and his own scars. Julian listened intently as he traced a harsh scar that ran from the base of Romeo’s palm up to the finger where Romeo sported his class ring.

  At last, standing to turn off the lights, Julian took a deep breath and decided it was time — he was ready. “You shared your scars with me,” he began, undoing the top of his jeans.

  “I’ve never . . .” Romeo whispered.

  Julian nodded. Kneeling alongside Romeo, he took the young man’s hand and put it just below his boxer-briefs. Romeo ran his fingers against the thin scars along Julian’s thighs, tracing the cuts Julian had made on the nights when it had been too hard to carry on.