And We Shall Set Aside Our Differences
Title: And We Shall Set Aside Our Differences
Author: lennoxave
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt, Mercedes, Mr. Jones
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,151
Spoilers: Through 2.10, "A Very Glee Christmas."
Summary: Mercedes's grandmother dies, and Kurt knows he needs to be there for his friend. He's just not quite sure how.
And We Shall Set Aside Our Differences
The first thing Kurt does every morning is check his Facebook. He knows it's dumb, and that there are hardly any updates between when he checks it before he goes to bed and the morning, but it's part of his routine, and he likes routines.
So he fires up his laptap (as his roommate snores behind him, because dear god can that kid sleep through anything) and logs in. His newsfeed has a few errant updates from various Warblers, but then he sees a post that makes him freeze.
Mercedes Jones
R.I.P Eleanor Jones, 1940-2011. We'll always love you, Grandma. She's with Jesus now.
Kurt's very first instinct is to say screw school and drive up to Lima to be with his best friend.
But that last sentence of her message makes him hesitate. It reminds him of the gap between them. How much comfort could he really be to her? His father's faith died the day his mother did, and Kurt's faith never developed because of that. Mercedes is going to be hanging on to her faith with every ounce of her being. How could he possibly help?
He remembers, though, their compromises. He remembers going to a church service, and Mercedes singing him a pop song in return. He remembers how it felt to let go of his defensiveness and embrace the meaning of her gesture, if not the gesture itself.
He remembers that Mercedes was the first person he came out to, and that she still talked to him the next day, even if he doesn't think her religion would have approved.
Kurt doesn't know what he's going to do, or what he's going to say, but he leaves Kyle a note asking him to take notes for him in class today, and he's on the road by the time his roommate even wakes up.
* * *
It dawns on Kurt once he's within Lima city limits that he has no idea whether Mercedes went to school today or not. He pulls into a K-Mart parking lot and texts Tina:
Is Mercedes in school today?
He gets one back a minute later:
No. Her grandma died last night and she's at home. Why?
He lets Tina know where he's going and then he's on his way again.
He gets to Mercedes's house at around 10:30. He realizes as he rings the doorbell that he probably should have called first, but then Mr. Jones is answering door and it's too late to change anything.
“Kurt?” Mr. Jones says. He looks very surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard the news, and I thought Mercedes might like to see a friend right now. I'm so sorry for your loss,” Kurt adds, although it makes him cringe to do so. Even though he means those words, they're so impersonal and cliché, and he knows from experience that they sound that way. But he has no comfort to bring--no prayers or benedictions, no assurances of life eternal. The only tradition he has to follow is the tradition of being polite and thus vaguely condescending.
Mr. Jones, because he is a good man, accepts Kurt's condolences in the spirit in which they were given. “Thank you, Kurt. Let me go get Mercedes.”
Kurt stands in the doorway for a moment, and then Mercedes is practically charging at him.
“Kurt!” she says, and she throws her arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest.
“Hello, sweetie,” he says, hugging her tightly.
“You didn't have to come all this way,” she says, although it's muffled by the fabric of his coat.
“Of course I did,” he replies, stroking her hair.
They stand there in silence for a minute, clinging to one another. It's not something they do very often, this full-out hugging, and that's what makes it powerful. Kurt can feel Mercedes pulling something from him, strength or love or some other intangible, and he is more than happy to give it.
They break apart when Mr. Jones comes back to the door with Mercedes's jacket.
“Baby, I think it might be good for you to get out of the house for a while,” he says. “Get some fresh air.”
Mercedes nods and takes her jacket. “Okay, Daddy. I'll be back for lunch.”
She kisses her father on the check, and then she and Kurt head out.
* * *
It's one of those unseasonably warm March days that happen in the Midwest, where the weather gets nice for twenty-four hours before a major blizzard hits. Consequently, it's not a bad day for a walk, and Kurt and Mercedes wander around the neighborhood arm-in-arm.
“You were close, weren't you?” Kurt says. It's only something of a non-sequitor, considering that they weren't talking at all before he said it, but he knows Mercedes knows what he's asking about.
“Yeah,” she says. “She was my babysitter growing up. Me and my brother used to get into big fights over who got to sit on Grandma's lap for story time.” Mercedes smiles at the memory, so Kurt smiles, too.
“I'm so sorry,” he says, as acutely aware as before that it's a stupid thing to say.
“It's all right,” she says. “I mean, I'm sad, of course, but . . . I know it's not what you believe, but I know she's in a better place right now. And that I'm going to see her again someday.”
There are a lot of things Kurt wants to say to that. But what if you're wrong? What if there's no invisible man in the sky? What if there is no heaven? What if when you're dead, you're dead and nothing more? Why can't the garden just be beautiful without there being fairies at the bottom of it, as well?
Instead, Kurt says, “It sounds like you had a lot of good times here, too.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we did.” Mercedes doesn't say anything for a few moments, but then, “I'm not going to ask you to pray.”
“I appreciate it,” he says.
“But I am going to ask you to do something else.”
“What?”
He hears Mercedes sniffle before she answers. “As long as you're in town, go give your dad a hug, okay?”
Kurt can feel his eyes welling up with tears. “Okay,” he whispers, and he puts his arm around Mercedes and kisses her on the forehead.
* * *
When Kurt gets to the shop later that day, his dad starts to read him the riot act for skipping school. Once he explains what he's doing in Lima, though, he gets a big, strong hug and a gruff “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
Author: lennoxave
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt, Mercedes, Mr. Jones
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,151
Spoilers: Through 2.10, "A Very Glee Christmas."
Summary: Mercedes's grandmother dies, and Kurt knows he needs to be there for his friend. He's just not quite sure how.
And We Shall Set Aside Our Differences
The first thing Kurt does every morning is check his Facebook. He knows it's dumb, and that there are hardly any updates between when he checks it before he goes to bed and the morning, but it's part of his routine, and he likes routines.
So he fires up his laptap (as his roommate snores behind him, because dear god can that kid sleep through anything) and logs in. His newsfeed has a few errant updates from various Warblers, but then he sees a post that makes him freeze.
Mercedes Jones
R.I.P Eleanor Jones, 1940-2011. We'll always love you, Grandma. She's with Jesus now.
Kurt's very first instinct is to say screw school and drive up to Lima to be with his best friend.
But that last sentence of her message makes him hesitate. It reminds him of the gap between them. How much comfort could he really be to her? His father's faith died the day his mother did, and Kurt's faith never developed because of that. Mercedes is going to be hanging on to her faith with every ounce of her being. How could he possibly help?
He remembers, though, their compromises. He remembers going to a church service, and Mercedes singing him a pop song in return. He remembers how it felt to let go of his defensiveness and embrace the meaning of her gesture, if not the gesture itself.
He remembers that Mercedes was the first person he came out to, and that she still talked to him the next day, even if he doesn't think her religion would have approved.
Kurt doesn't know what he's going to do, or what he's going to say, but he leaves Kyle a note asking him to take notes for him in class today, and he's on the road by the time his roommate even wakes up.
* * *
It dawns on Kurt once he's within Lima city limits that he has no idea whether Mercedes went to school today or not. He pulls into a K-Mart parking lot and texts Tina:
Is Mercedes in school today?
He gets one back a minute later:
No. Her grandma died last night and she's at home. Why?
He lets Tina know where he's going and then he's on his way again.
He gets to Mercedes's house at around 10:30. He realizes as he rings the doorbell that he probably should have called first, but then Mr. Jones is answering door and it's too late to change anything.
“Kurt?” Mr. Jones says. He looks very surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard the news, and I thought Mercedes might like to see a friend right now. I'm so sorry for your loss,” Kurt adds, although it makes him cringe to do so. Even though he means those words, they're so impersonal and cliché, and he knows from experience that they sound that way. But he has no comfort to bring--no prayers or benedictions, no assurances of life eternal. The only tradition he has to follow is the tradition of being polite and thus vaguely condescending.
Mr. Jones, because he is a good man, accepts Kurt's condolences in the spirit in which they were given. “Thank you, Kurt. Let me go get Mercedes.”
Kurt stands in the doorway for a moment, and then Mercedes is practically charging at him.
“Kurt!” she says, and she throws her arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest.
“Hello, sweetie,” he says, hugging her tightly.
“You didn't have to come all this way,” she says, although it's muffled by the fabric of his coat.
“Of course I did,” he replies, stroking her hair.
They stand there in silence for a minute, clinging to one another. It's not something they do very often, this full-out hugging, and that's what makes it powerful. Kurt can feel Mercedes pulling something from him, strength or love or some other intangible, and he is more than happy to give it.
They break apart when Mr. Jones comes back to the door with Mercedes's jacket.
“Baby, I think it might be good for you to get out of the house for a while,” he says. “Get some fresh air.”
Mercedes nods and takes her jacket. “Okay, Daddy. I'll be back for lunch.”
She kisses her father on the check, and then she and Kurt head out.
* * *
It's one of those unseasonably warm March days that happen in the Midwest, where the weather gets nice for twenty-four hours before a major blizzard hits. Consequently, it's not a bad day for a walk, and Kurt and Mercedes wander around the neighborhood arm-in-arm.
“You were close, weren't you?” Kurt says. It's only something of a non-sequitor, considering that they weren't talking at all before he said it, but he knows Mercedes knows what he's asking about.
“Yeah,” she says. “She was my babysitter growing up. Me and my brother used to get into big fights over who got to sit on Grandma's lap for story time.” Mercedes smiles at the memory, so Kurt smiles, too.
“I'm so sorry,” he says, as acutely aware as before that it's a stupid thing to say.
“It's all right,” she says. “I mean, I'm sad, of course, but . . . I know it's not what you believe, but I know she's in a better place right now. And that I'm going to see her again someday.”
There are a lot of things Kurt wants to say to that. But what if you're wrong? What if there's no invisible man in the sky? What if there is no heaven? What if when you're dead, you're dead and nothing more? Why can't the garden just be beautiful without there being fairies at the bottom of it, as well?
Instead, Kurt says, “It sounds like you had a lot of good times here, too.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we did.” Mercedes doesn't say anything for a few moments, but then, “I'm not going to ask you to pray.”
“I appreciate it,” he says.
“But I am going to ask you to do something else.”
“What?”
He hears Mercedes sniffle before she answers. “As long as you're in town, go give your dad a hug, okay?”
Kurt can feel his eyes welling up with tears. “Okay,” he whispers, and he puts his arm around Mercedes and kisses her on the forehead.
* * *
When Kurt gets to the shop later that day, his dad starts to read him the riot act for skipping school. Once he explains what he's doing in Lima, though, he gets a big, strong hug and a gruff “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”