Switchverse: Part IX, or, If It's So Special
“Jack Bryar speaking,” she answers, reluctant to walk too far away from the music.
“Hey, it’s Jeremy.” There’s a thin, male voice in the background, and he amends it to, “Jeremy Stump.”
Jack says, “Bond, James Bond,” in unison with the voice behind Jeremy, and then she clucks her tongue. “Tell me that’s not Bronx.”
Jeremy’s voice brightens up, and he sounds pleased with himself. “Actually, it’s Pete. I don’t know if that’s an improvement.”
Jack can hear Pete say, “I’m telling your dad!”
She snorts, and probably sounds unattractive, but this is the risk of talking to her over the phone. “I see what you mean.”
“Seriously, I don’t know what Dad sees in him. He’s probably out right now banging his secretary.”
They both pause to listen to Pete’s scolding rant about social stereotypes and there is no way Patrick’s cheating on him because Pete’s kickass in bed.
“Um,” Jeremy stammers, and then a door slams shut and Pete cuts off. “Sorry. He, uh. That’s how he gets us to leave him alone.”
“Clever. I’ll use it against Bronx.”
Jeremy sort of chokes. And then laughs. “Not… a great plan, so, you know. Good luck with that.”
Jack says, “He won’t use it for fantasies.”
“Probably not,” Jeremy admits. “He knows you’ll kill him. Oh, and I got tickets to a concert - for all the Chem kids. Six of you guys, right? Besides Eliza’s twins.”
“If you count 2way.” Jack steps, lining up heel-toe but shoulder-width apart, pacing. As she passes the door to Eliza’s teacher’s room, she hears that Eliza’s playing a different piece, now.
Jeremy hesitates before he forces a laugh and asks, “You don’t count 2way?”
Jeremy’s part of Eliza’s and 2way’s plans for the Band, so. Jack speaks slowly, choosing her words. “He’s a good kid. He’s young.”
“He’s only a year younger than you.”
“He has a very secret crush on Eliza.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy chuckles, and then stops. With dawning realization, he says, “Oh. You mean - you and Eliza?”
Jack glances at the door between here and her best friend, and it’s enough of a pause for Jeremy to try to cover it by talking. She cuts him off and explains, “We’re not like that. I don’t know that Eliza likes him. I don’t know that they’ll function as a couple.”
Jeremy says, “Well,” and then he’s abruptly distant as he shouts, “In my room.” A few second later, still far off but speaking normally, “I’m on the phone. No, with Jack - hey!”
And then the phone crackles and crashes until Bronx’s voice comes into focus. “Jack? Hey! Hi! You complete me and we should get married.”
Jack lets her voice level out in the eerily calm tone that creeps Bronx out and instructs, “I’ll see you next weekend, Wentz. Tell Jeremy it’s fine to bring the kid.”
“Uh,” Bronx trails off, and he parrots, “It’s fine to bring the kid, Stump-Tumpy-True.”
Jeremy laughs, short and tinny, half the country away.
Bronx says, “But, okay, no, Bryar, listen.”
“Bye, Bronx,” Jack says, and hangs up just as Eliza comes out of her lesson.
--
Eliza spends the night at Jack’s house when she can get away with it, on weekends, if Jack doesn’t have work, if Ray will watch The Terrible Twins. Eliza calls it Girl’s Night but Jack thinks that it’s the only time Eliza can slow down and breathe and pretend to be seventeen.
In the Toro household, Ray and Mary Jane and Christian will happily live for days on sugary cereal and crackers and soda without Eliza there to cook and clean and remind them not to wear their pajamas out of the house.
Jack and Bob, on the other hand, only eat well when Eliza’s there to order Jack around the kitchen.
She sits at the kitchen table and plinks at her violin like a guitar, aimless, watching. “When did you last check the noodles?”
Jack stirs the mass of vegetables and stuff in the skillet, and says, “A minute or so.”
Eliza laughs at a face Jack makes when the oil snaps, and strums the opening of one of her favorites. “I know the chopping-everything-up part is your favorite, but bear with me.”
Jack spoons out another noodle, waits for it too cool, and eats it. “The noodles are done,” she announces, and turns off the heat, and pours the pot out into a colander.
Bob’s just coming home from a meeting. He stands in the doorway for a second, heavy footsteps scuffing to a stop, and then he’s smiling in his voice but not on his face. “Eliza. You’re going to turn her into a chef.”
“What do you think I’m doing here all the time? It’s all part of my plot to force you two to take care of yourselves.”
And Jack can ask Eliza what she thinks of 2way, if she like him, if she knows how much he likes her. Eliza answers honestly, even when questions are personal.
How much does it really matter, though? Eliza makes her own decisions, despite whatever Jack does to protect or prevent her.
Jack shakes her head and serves up slightly-undercooked stir fry. The words that hang on her tongue drop away like autumn leaves.
“Hey, it’s Jeremy.” There’s a thin, male voice in the background, and he amends it to, “Jeremy Stump.”
Jack says, “Bond, James Bond,” in unison with the voice behind Jeremy, and then she clucks her tongue. “Tell me that’s not Bronx.”
Jeremy’s voice brightens up, and he sounds pleased with himself. “Actually, it’s Pete. I don’t know if that’s an improvement.”
Jack can hear Pete say, “I’m telling your dad!”
She snorts, and probably sounds unattractive, but this is the risk of talking to her over the phone. “I see what you mean.”
“Seriously, I don’t know what Dad sees in him. He’s probably out right now banging his secretary.”
They both pause to listen to Pete’s scolding rant about social stereotypes and there is no way Patrick’s cheating on him because Pete’s kickass in bed.
“Um,” Jeremy stammers, and then a door slams shut and Pete cuts off. “Sorry. He, uh. That’s how he gets us to leave him alone.”
“Clever. I’ll use it against Bronx.”
Jeremy sort of chokes. And then laughs. “Not… a great plan, so, you know. Good luck with that.”
Jack says, “He won’t use it for fantasies.”
“Probably not,” Jeremy admits. “He knows you’ll kill him. Oh, and I got tickets to a concert - for all the Chem kids. Six of you guys, right? Besides Eliza’s twins.”
“If you count 2way.” Jack steps, lining up heel-toe but shoulder-width apart, pacing. As she passes the door to Eliza’s teacher’s room, she hears that Eliza’s playing a different piece, now.
Jeremy hesitates before he forces a laugh and asks, “You don’t count 2way?”
Jeremy’s part of Eliza’s and 2way’s plans for the Band, so. Jack speaks slowly, choosing her words. “He’s a good kid. He’s young.”
“He’s only a year younger than you.”
“He has a very secret crush on Eliza.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy chuckles, and then stops. With dawning realization, he says, “Oh. You mean - you and Eliza?”
Jack glances at the door between here and her best friend, and it’s enough of a pause for Jeremy to try to cover it by talking. She cuts him off and explains, “We’re not like that. I don’t know that Eliza likes him. I don’t know that they’ll function as a couple.”
Jeremy says, “Well,” and then he’s abruptly distant as he shouts, “In my room.” A few second later, still far off but speaking normally, “I’m on the phone. No, with Jack - hey!”
And then the phone crackles and crashes until Bronx’s voice comes into focus. “Jack? Hey! Hi! You complete me and we should get married.”
Jack lets her voice level out in the eerily calm tone that creeps Bronx out and instructs, “I’ll see you next weekend, Wentz. Tell Jeremy it’s fine to bring the kid.”
“Uh,” Bronx trails off, and he parrots, “It’s fine to bring the kid, Stump-Tumpy-True.”
Jeremy laughs, short and tinny, half the country away.
Bronx says, “But, okay, no, Bryar, listen.”
“Bye, Bronx,” Jack says, and hangs up just as Eliza comes out of her lesson.
--
Eliza spends the night at Jack’s house when she can get away with it, on weekends, if Jack doesn’t have work, if Ray will watch The Terrible Twins. Eliza calls it Girl’s Night but Jack thinks that it’s the only time Eliza can slow down and breathe and pretend to be seventeen.
In the Toro household, Ray and Mary Jane and Christian will happily live for days on sugary cereal and crackers and soda without Eliza there to cook and clean and remind them not to wear their pajamas out of the house.
Jack and Bob, on the other hand, only eat well when Eliza’s there to order Jack around the kitchen.
She sits at the kitchen table and plinks at her violin like a guitar, aimless, watching. “When did you last check the noodles?”
Jack stirs the mass of vegetables and stuff in the skillet, and says, “A minute or so.”
Eliza laughs at a face Jack makes when the oil snaps, and strums the opening of one of her favorites. “I know the chopping-everything-up part is your favorite, but bear with me.”
Jack spoons out another noodle, waits for it too cool, and eats it. “The noodles are done,” she announces, and turns off the heat, and pours the pot out into a colander.
Bob’s just coming home from a meeting. He stands in the doorway for a second, heavy footsteps scuffing to a stop, and then he’s smiling in his voice but not on his face. “Eliza. You’re going to turn her into a chef.”
“What do you think I’m doing here all the time? It’s all part of my plot to force you two to take care of yourselves.”
And Jack can ask Eliza what she thinks of 2way, if she like him, if she knows how much he likes her. Eliza answers honestly, even when questions are personal.
How much does it really matter, though? Eliza makes her own decisions, despite whatever Jack does to protect or prevent her.
Jack shakes her head and serves up slightly-undercooked stir fry. The words that hang on her tongue drop away like autumn leaves.