For Mac (21 page)

Branson didn’t know why he felt offended by that, but he did. “I wouldn’t have left in the middle of a movie.” But once he examined his motivation for that, he didn’t feel so self-righteous. “If only because it would have drawn more attention to me.” His head was down, and his voice was soft as he admitted that. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything.”

Liam reached over and smacked Branson’s knee lightly with the back of his fingers. “It really is okay, Bran. You weren’t comfortable with the attention, and you felt like you needed to move. I get that. I wish it wasn’t so, but it was, and I want you to be comfortable.” Branson looked at Liam, knowing there was more to the story, so Liam continued. “Look, Branny, sure. In an ideal world, you wouldn’t have cared what those people thought and wouldn’t have felt the need to move since they obviously had the wrong idea. Of course, in an ideal world, it wouldn’t have been the wrong idea. But I know you’re not there yet, Bran, may never be, and that’s cool. It really is. I want to be with you, as a friend, as whatever you want, and if that means having you move away from me in a theater, I’m okay with that, because at least we were still together.”

Branson wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t feel like it was okay at all or that Liam should have to be okay with it. But he couldn’t do anything about it now, so he let the subject drop.

T
HE
FOLLOWING
morning was Wednesday, the day of Branson’s first meeting with Dr. Luxton. He was nervous all day, to the point that he couldn’t eat his lunch. By the time two thirty rolled around—the time he had arranged to leave—he was all but shaking. He felt sure that Tom noticed that something was wrong when Branson had peeked his head into his boss’s office to remind him he was leaving, but Tom hadn’t said anything. Branson was pretty confident that he would ask him about it later, though. And Branson wasn’t at all sure what he would tell him.

B
RANSON
DIDN
’
T
have any trouble finding the building and walked into the beautiful old house that had obviously been made into offices. He was greeted by the way-too-cheerful older woman behind the counter and given a stack of forms to fill out. He took the clipboard to the overstuffed love seat but looked around first before actually filling it out.

The first floor had three offices on it, with names on each door: Hull, Payton, and Lindsay.
Luxton must be upstairs.
He reasoned, with the name of In Tune Therapy Services that all the doors must lead to therapists of some sort, quite possibly all psychologists like Dr. Luxton.

The waiting room was empty for the moment, Branson noticed. It seated about seven or eight, but he was glad to have it all to himself right now. He started filling in the numerous forms he had been given. One was the usual doctor’s form: personal information, insurance information, and the like. The others were specific to this type of doctor. One was a checklist of various symptoms. He was supposed to rate the frequency with which he experienced them, from “all the time” to “never” with various levels in between. On one, he was asked to briefly describe why he had come in today. He put that he had had numerous changes and stressors in his life and felt he had been experiencing signs of depression. He didn’t really have time or room on the form to get into everything that had led him there.

He finished the forms and gave them to the receptionist. She faxed them somewhere, presumably to Dr. Luxton’s office, and then filed them behind the desk. Branson went back to observing his environment. In the short time he was waiting, he saw people leave from two of the doors on the first floor: a couple from one, and a teen with what Bran assumed were his parents from the other.

Before long a young woman, probably his age, came down the stairs followed by an older woman.
Probably her mother
, Branson thought. But the younger woman continued toward the door, and the older one stayed on the stairs and looked in his direction.

“Mr. Farrell?” she asked. “I’m Dr. Luxton. I’m ready to see you now.”

That took Branson by surprise. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t someone who could easily be his mother. Well, not his particular mother, because her voice had never been so soft and inviting, but someone’s mother. Her whole demeanor oozed comfort and acceptance. Whether that was her natural personality or if she had honed it over years of experience in this profession, Branson wasn’t sure. But it had the desired effect, and he relaxed immensely.

She led him up the stairs and through the first door. Branson noticed that there were three other doors as well. He expected her to go to the desk in the far corner and sit there, but she took a chair instead and gestured toward the rest.

“Sit anywhere you’d like,” she offered.

He debated for a moment but then settled on a chair relatively close to her instead of the couch opposite her. He didn’t really want to be too close, but he didn’t want to have to talk very loud either.

Once he was settled, Dr. Luxton stated, “I’ve read your forms, so I know vaguely why you’re here, but I’d like to hear it from you directly.” When he hesitated, trying to figure out what to say first, she continued. “I’m sure it’s probably a combination of many things, so say whatever comes to your mind first. We’ll get around to everything eventually.”

What came to his mind first, of course, was what was pretty much always on his mind… had been for a year now. “My brother and I were in an accident a year ago, and he’s still in a coma.”

They talked about that for a while and then segued into talking about Mac’s role in Branson’s life as they were growing up. Liam didn’t come up at all this time, and Branson wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He didn’t want to jump right into the whole gay issue, but that was a major reason he had come as well, so he didn’t like not covering it either.
Well
, he thought,
like she says
,
we’ll get around to everything eventually
.

She left it up to him whether he wanted to meet once or twice a week. He decided “in for a penny, in for a pound” as Liam would say, and made another appointment for that Friday. She told him to keep a journal in the meantime, saying that often simply having a place to express what they were going through had helped her clients in the past.

He wasn’t sure yet how he felt about that, but he told her he’d try.

Liam

L
IAM
KNEW
that Wednesday was Branson’s first appointment with Dr. Luxton. He was so proud of Bran for agreeing to see a psychologist, despite the fact that he knew Mac would not approve. It gave Liam hope, and not only that maybe Branson would be willing to go against Mac in regards to his relationship with Liam; he wasn’t that selfish. He was hoping, though, that at some point Branson would feel he could go against Mac’s wishes about expressing his sexuality. Even if Branson didn’t end up with him, Liam wanted him to be more comfortable with who he was. He wanted him to be able to be himself from moment to moment without having to run everything through his “Mac filter” first. How exhausting that must be.

Liam knew he was unusually lucky to have had such a wonderful childhood and to have parents who supported and loved all their children, gay or straight, with everything they had in them. All four Sullivan kids, and now the grandchildren, were raised to be exactly who they were and to be proud of themselves for that. There had never been any true angst about coming out to his parents; they kind of always knew. His mother had taken some flak from
her
parents when they bought him a doll for his fifth birthday. It was a boy doll, so that helped them accept it a little, but his ma had justified it simply by saying, “It’s what he asked for.” Of course, his grandparents had had the same problem with Katie wanting a Tonka truck for Christmas. They were traditional but ultimately supportive. They were shocked when he brought his first boyfriend to his grandfather’s birthday party, but they weren’t mean or unaccepting about it.

Liam had heard horror stories about people, even some he knew personally, who weren’t nearly as lucky. People whose families were not only not supportive about their sexuality, but who were downright abusive, or who had kicked them out altogether. He had a friend who had ended up on the streets from the time he was fourteen because his parents refused to admit that any son of theirs could be gay. That was one of the reasons Liam was so concerned for Branson. Mac hadn’t actually kicked him out, but it certainly sounded like he’d made his love and support contingent on Branson doing things Mac’s way. Liam’s friend had finally gotten the help he needed and was off the streets, out of that lifestyle, and doing well for himself. Liam wanted the same recovery for Branson. It was a completely different situation, Liam knew that, but emotionally, it was similar. Bran would have to feel comfortable and supported enough to completely remake himself, or rather, unmake the Branson that Mac had built and be the one he had always been meant to be.

Branson was lucky enough to have friends who had supported him all along and would continue to, and Liam now counted himself among them. He vowed to be there throughout the process, to help however he could, and to be there for the rest of Branson’s life in some capacity, if Branson would allow it.

T
HE
REST
of the week was uneventful. Liam came back every evening to stay with Branson while he visited with Mac. Often either Amy or Andy, or occasionally Mrs. White, was there too. Mac was really not doing well, and Liam could see Branson getting more and more depressed, despite going to Dr. Luxton’s again on Friday. Liam wasn’t all that surprised when the nurses called him to come to Silver Linings on Sunday afternoon. Branson was sitting with Mac and sobbing as hard as he had been the night Mac’s heart had stopped for so long.

“At least he’s responsive this time,” Barbara noted. “He’s just inconsolable, Liam. We don’t know what to do. We hate seeing him like that.” She patted his arm. “You always have a way of reaching him. We were hoping you could help.”

Liam hoped he was worthy of the faith they put in him. He remembered last time he’d had an awful time trying to reach Bran, but then Bran had finally responded to him, when he hadn’t for anyone else, so maybe he could help this time too.

By the time Liam got to the room, Branson was shaking with sobs but was making no noise at all. Liam walked over while calling his name so as not to startle him, but Branson didn’t seem to pay any attention. Liam touched him on his shoulder, and Branson didn’t react.

Oh no
, Liam thought,
not again
.

He took hold of Branson’s shoulders and turned him around to face him. To his relief, Branson looked at him right away.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Bran sobbed, and Liam looked quickly to Mac and to the machines monitoring his vitals. Surely if Mac had passed, the nurses would have told Liam that. But Mac’s vitals were fine, as fine as they had been in a while.

“What do you mean, Branny?” Liam didn’t state the obvious, that Mac was, indeed, still right there, where he had been for quite a while now.

“It’s been a year.” Branson tried to get his sobbing under control so Liam could understand him better. “It’s been a year today.”

But Liam was still not following the conversation. “What has?”

“Since the accident,” Branson clarified.

“Has it?” Liam asked. “I don’t think I ever knew the exact date of the accident. Mac didn’t come here until February.”

“December second.” Branson’s sobs were turning into sniffles, but his head still hung low while he talked. “It’s been exactly a year. He isn’t coming back, is he?”

“There’s nothing magic about a year, Bran.” Liam tried to encourage, but he had to be truthful too. “It is true that if coma patients are going to make much progress, it usually happens in the first year, but….” Liam didn’t know what else to say. Maybe Branson was right, maybe there was something important about hitting the one-year anniversary of the accident. He hadn’t given it any thought, because he hadn’t realized how close it had been, but Branson was right: if Mac was going to come back to him, he would have at least started to do it by now.

Branson looked him in the eye again as if daring him, begging him, to say he was wrong, to assure him that Mac was going to wake up, and they were going to be as they had been before the accident. But of course he couldn’t. So he folded Branson in his arms and let him cry softly.

Branson

T
HE
NEXT
Tuesday, Branson was entering Silver Linings when he heard the code alarm going off. Somehow he knew it was Mac. He rushed to the room, and sure enough, every staff member that would fit in the room was there. Bran had no way of knowing how long Mac’s heart had already been stopped, but he couldn’t make himself leave the doorway.

Before he knew it, he was being led away from the room by a pair of hands; he didn’t know who they belonged to until he heard an Irish voice.

“Come on, Branny,” Liam was saying softly. “Let’s sit down out here. I brought you a chair, so you won’t have to be leaving Mac very far. You can still hear everything.”

Branson dragged his head around sluggishly until he was finally facing Liam. “I want to see too,” he nearly whispered.

“It’s better for everyone if you’re out here, Bran.” Liam tried to convince him. “You can’t stay in the doorway like that. You get in the way of staff coming and going, and machines and such.”

“Liam.” Branson’s voice sounded dead, even to himself. “Is this it?”

“I honestly don’t know, Branny,” Liam whispered into his ear as he enfolded him in a hug.