Accumulation [Juliet/Jack] [R] [Part 1]
Title: Accumulation [Part 1 of 2]
Characters: Juliet, Jack, David, Claire & Aaron
Pairing: Juliet/Jack
Rating: R (Ooh, I'm so proud of myself!)
Spoilers: Season 6
A/N: In equation form, S6 + AU + total fluff + porn = I don't know what the hell has gotten into me. But I wanted to write a piece in which neither Desmond the born-again 'shipper nor Suliet-flavored coffee ruins the Jack and Juliet show I'm watching in my head. Please be warned that this is the first time I have ever written a proper sex scene and I am probably wretched at it. It's slightly!awkward!sex, but that's the only kind of sex I can imagine Jack having for some reason. For those who've read my "workshop fic #2," part one is the same as that; part two is the new stuff (with Claire added!). I literally could not stop writing this thing until I finished it: it was that addictive.
~~
“You told him?” Juliet looked angry as she approached his car. He wished he could say that he was unfamiliar with the expression: her pursed lips reminded him of all the fights they’d had before, of his drinking and the divorce. Of all the things that came before Australia.
He leaned heavily on the window as if to prevent himself from slipping back into that place. When she made it to the door, she was inches away from his arm, practically at eye-level. She looked beautiful, he thought, the bright sun filtering through her hair and light yellow shirt, but she was looking at him sharply and he had to answer.
“I can’t lie to him anymore, Juliet” he said quietly, refusing to get defensive and yell like he usually did, “I promised myself after the audition that I wasn’t going to lie to him again.”
He could see her anger faltering, her features rearranging themselves into a look of puzzlement, of soft reproach as she met his eyes.
“He asked?”
“Yeah. He asked. He saw us holding hands on St. Patrick’s Day.” He sighed, leaning back into the seat of his car, “Do you want to go get some coffee or something?”
She raised her eyebrows at him: he knew it was a loaded question, considering that the last time they’d gone out for coffee they’d ended up kissing in the parking lot for so long that he hadn’t known how much time they’d lost when they stopped, and Juliet had cursed and told him she was going to be late to a meeting.
“Alright,” she agreed slowly, “Just let me leave a note for David-in case he gets back from school.” She sounded like she was in the doghouse: Jack could sympathize.
He nodded, watched the house, still after she disappeared into it, the strange silver rabbit at the door winking at him in the sun. When she got back into his truck, slamming the door, he resumed the conversation. “Was he upset?”
“No,” she said quickly, looking out the front window as he backed out of the driveway. Then she sighed and turned toward him, “Yes. Well, a little bit, anyway.”
He didn’t ask why she hadn’t told David anything, because what they had wasn’t strong enough for that yet, and he knew it.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead, and the words had a familiar, bittersweet taste in his mouth as he waited for the light to turn green.
“That’s ok,” she answered, “He’ll get over it…eventually. I think he was more upset about me not telling him than about-us.”
He couldn’t help swallowing nervously as she said it-out of the corner of his eye, he could see that she was studying him, considering something, but she didn’t say anything until they pulled into the parking lot and he turned off the ignition.
He was startled when she laid a hand on his forearm.
“Jack, are you ok?” He turned to look at her, surprised to see her concern-a look which he had seen many times-focused on him. “You seem so tired. You’re not- Nothing’s happened, has it?”
He knew she wanted to ask if he had started drinking again, but didn’t want to say it, because she thought it would be terrible to suspect him now, after all he’d been through. But Jack didn’t think it was terrible: he felt how tenuous his victory was every time he was upset, every time he thought about his father and wanted a drink. He didn’t blame her in the least.
“No,” he answered, looking down at her hand before meeting her eyes. She looked soft, pretty; he wanted to kiss her, but he held back, biting his lip. He leaned backward, sighing and closing his eyes, “I mean-well, there is something, but not that.”
“I don’t want to pry.”
“It’s ok,” he answered, feeling suddenly brave enough to take her hand. She squeezed his back reassuringly. “It’s my father.” He almost laughed. What else could it be? “Remember how I told you that my mom and I finally found his will? Well, it turns out that I have a half-sister.”
“What? Your father-”
“She lives in Australia. We haven’t been able to contact her yet, but he left her something, and that’s how we found out.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah-my mom is really upset. I don’t think she knew. I mean, maybe she suspected, but-”
“Knowing is different. Oh Jack, I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok. It’s not the worst thing that could happen-to me, anyway. I guess I did always want a younger brother or sister back when I was a kid.”
Juliet returned his rueful smile gently.
“That’s one way to look at it,” she laughed softly, but her expression was serious when she added, “It’s wonderful having a sister.” When her gaze returned to his from a great distance, he thought it must be true, and he felt himself longing for the connection as if it was something he’d already had-and lost.
~~
His hands shook a little as they pulled up to Juliet’s house: coffee was not exactly the best prescription for the anxiety that had been troubling him recently, but it was better than alcohol. He felt wired and nervous when he put the car into park, but lucid, aware of the warmth of the sun on his skin, the sounds of people laughing down the street, Juliet’s least movement in the seat next to him.
“I don’t think he’s here,” she said, peering toward the house at some indiscernible sign, blocking out the sun’s glare with her hand, “Do you want to come in?”
He hesitated, trying not to sigh in relief. He had been thinking about this meeting all week, and he was relieved that it wasn’t over yet.
She misinterpreted his hesitation and said, “That’s not why I’m inviting you in,” and when his mouth dropped open in confusion, added, “I mean, I’m not trying to hide you from David anymore. I’ll tell him-I don’t know what I’ll tell him. But I’m not going to pretend you weren’t here. Do you want to come in?”
“Yeah,” he thought it was best to keep it simple. He turned off the ignition and hooked his thumbs in his pockets as he got out of the car. He followed Juliet to the front door, trying not to stand too close as she fiddled with the key.
When they were inside, he looked at the countertops, admired again the lived-in quality of her house, so different from his own-books, notes, and some of David’s things lay on the table, while she picked up a torn piece of paper on the countertop.
“Oh, right: baseball practice. I forgot. Is it Wednesday already?”
“It sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?” he asked, thinking of yesterday’s six-hour surgery and the long AA meeting afterward, feeling suddenly tired, as if remembering were more tiring than the experience itself.
“Yeah, it does,” she put down the note and turned to him, her smile an enigma. He smiled back without knowing why, feeling that she was beyond him somehow; that she could see something in him that he couldn’t.
“Jack,” she left the countertop to stand close to him. He was surprised when she reached for his hand, taking it in hers and squeezing it gently, “I’m think I’m going to tell David that we’re seeing each other, if that’s ok with you.” His mouth twitched upward at the corners as he exhaled, the brief smile all that the current state of his nerves would allow him. Even though he knew how forthright Juliet usually was, he hadn’t expected this. He turned to face her in a haze.
“It’s ok with me,” he said softly, and he barely had time to get the words out before he could feel her mouth against his, her arms going around his neck. He opened his mouth in surprise; his nose bumped hers clumsily as he reacted to the unexpected contact, but she ignored his movement: she just turned her head for a better angle, pulling his face toward hers to keep him steady. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t-he was too afraid to hesitate, too desperate to feel her against him again-so he kissed her back instead.
They kissed slowly and deeply: he refused to rush, wanting to draw the moment out while it lasted. He knew she had given him a promise-of sorts-with her declaration, but he had also learned to understand promises differently since he’d been recovering, knowing they were no guarantee that life would be less difficult, or that he’d ever be able to stop trying. Nevertheless, taking things one moment at a time didn’t seem like such a hardship then as she backed him against the kitchen counter, pressing her hips against his. He almost forgot that there was any such thing as a future when she brushed against his groin.
His brain seemed to go fuzzy with the contact, and he moved on instinct, his hands slipping down to her bottom to hold her against him. When he pulled her close, she groaned in his ear and the sound went through him like a shot.
He kissed her throat the way he had wanted to for weeks as the sun came down in the window behind them, and he thought vaguely that time must be passing, even though he couldn’t feel it. Juliet was distracted by the change in the light: she turned to look out the window with a sigh, touched his shoulder and said, “Jack-”
“He’ll be back soon, won’t he?” He paused over her collarbone.
“Yeah,” she half-smiled, half-grimaced, looking down at him. He smiled at the familiarity of the expression as he slowly righted himself, his hands lingering at her hips, “I’d invite you to dinner, but I think he might still not be speaking terms with me right now.”
“It’s that bad, huh?” he winced.
“It’s ok: he cools off pretty fast. He got his temper from you, you know.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Take it however you want to take it,” she giggled, touching his cheek, her eyes warm as she looked into his. “I’m sorry to send you away like this,” she said, and he could tell from her eyes and her voice that she was, and that more than made up for his disappointment in having to leave so soon.
“It’s ok,” his calmness and his smile came easily, “David comes first. I should go-”
When he opened the front door, it was almost completely dark. He turned to her, an “I’ll call you” waiting on his lips, but she leaned up to kiss it away, her mouth sweet and wet, before he had a chance to say anything.
“Jack,” she pulled away, and swallowed, and he could almost feel her mind working in the dark, but he had no idea what she was going to say, “David has a camping trip for school in two weeks.”
“Oh. Am I supposed to take him that weekend? Things have been so crazy lately; I can’t remember what day it is anymore.”
“No: you’re not supposed to take him,” she snorted, and then looked self-conscious for a minute, “God, I’m terrible at this. I mean David’s camping trip is overnight.”
“Oh-” he said, and thought, Oh. “and you want me to-come over?”
“Yeah,” she sounded amused despite herself, and for a moment, he couldn’t tell whether she was laughing at herself or at him.
He felt his eyes grow dark. “Yeah-yeah, of course,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice.
“If you can get away from the hospital,” she added.
“I think I can manage it. They’ve-uh, they’ve been asking me to take some time off lately anyway, because of my father.”
“It’s on Saturday. I’ll let you know the date,” she was looking out over his shoulder, and he wasn’t sure why, distracted by what she’d been saying, until he turned his head.
“Hey Dad,” David stepped through the door, still in his baseball uniform. His tone was neutral, pleasant, even, and he smiled, but he didn’t say anything to Juliet.
“Hey. How was practice?”
“It was good. Uh, I’m sorry about this, but I’ve got a ton of homework to do-”
“Yeah, no problem,”
“I’ll tell you about it this weekend.”
“Sounds good.”
“You’re picking me up on Friday, right?”
“Yep. The South entrance?”
“Yeah. I’d better go. See you later!”
“Bye, David,” Jack called out, but David was halfway up the stairs by the time the words were out. Jack couldn’t help but grinning, misplaced as the expression was, as Juliet raised her eyebrows at him.
“Aren’t you jealous that he’s not giving me the silent treatment?”
She couldn’t help but laugh at that.
~~
His heart beat rapidly as he pressed the doorbell with his thumb and waited for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The dark stars above his head, the neatly manicured lawn and the tarnished silver rabbit hunched over on the porch felt slightly surreal, just like everything had felt since he’d returned from Australia.
This week, Claire, his new sister, had taken him aside, lowered her voice quite seriously and offered him an astrological explanation: “This is a bad month for Cancer,” she’d said, and he’d simply nodded politely, not sure if she’d be offended if he laughed. But despite her dire predictions, she’d helped him pick out a shirt for tonight anyway. “It’s blue,” she’d told him, stating the obvious in a way that made it sound like a secret, “That’s a good color on you. She’ll like it.”
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, scratching at the itchy collar of the shirt absentmindedly, then checking his cell phone to make sure that Juliet hadn’t sent him a message without his knowing it. But the phone showed him only the time and a picture of David, and as he was holding it open, he could hear the sound of Juliet’s shoes on the wooden floor.
“Hey, Jack. Sorry it took me so long.” the door cracked open audibly, and then he closed his phone, forgetting all about his shirt and the stars and Claire.
“Hey. That’s ok.” The universe seemed to slip back into place again when he looked at her: everything about her was real and clear: the sleek, smooth blondeness of her hair, the soft, familiar curves of her face and the brightness of her eyes. She was wearing a pale, thin blue sweater and a delicate silver pendant that dipped down into the partly visible space between her breasts, and it was all he could do not to stare.
“Come on in,” she smiled at his hesitation, the glazed look he was certain he was giving her, and took a few steps backward to give him room to enter.
As he made his way into the foyer, he wondered whether she was expecting him to simply turn around and take hold of her hips, to kiss her against the banister until she decided to lead him to the bedroom. When she took him down the hall, his eyes moved down her body and he thought quite seriously-almost too seriously-about reaching for her like he might have done years ago.
But even with tonight’s invitation, even with all the encouragement she had given him over the past two weeks, he hesitated. All of this-her forgiveness and her interest in him-was too new. He didn’t know where it had come from, and between everything that had just happened with his father, finding Claire, getting sober again, and being unable to sleep, he felt unsure of the ground beneath his feet. He didn’t trust the sudden strangeness of the world; he didn’t trust the sudden strangeness of himself.
“David got off to camp ok?” he asked as he followed Juliet into the kitchen.
“Yeah. We almost missed the bus, though. He takes forever to get ready when he doesn’t have a uniform to wear,” she rested her arm on the countertop and smiled at him warmly. “How are you?” she asks, “How’s Claire?”
“She’s great. Thanks for talking to her. She wanted me to tell you how much she appreciated it.”
“No problem. Having a kid for the first time is scary, and she’s still pretty young. I remember how that felt.”
He released a nervous breath that wasn’t quite a laugh, “That seems like a lifetime ago,” he said, and looked at her. She only smiled in acknowledgement.
“So I have to admit that I didn’t actually cook dinner,” she gestured to the table instead, where paper takeout packages were resting next to the more permanent table settings.
“Really?,” he couldn’t resist teasing her, “You mean you don’t put your food in little boxes like that?”
“You should just be thankful that I didn’t cook-unless you were gunning for grilled cheese,” she laughed, moving to the containers with him to open them, “You still like Moo Shu Pork, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered, looking up at her from the steaming box, surprised, somehow, that she remembered, “but I like grilled cheese too.”
Part 2
Characters: Juliet, Jack, David, Claire & Aaron
Pairing: Juliet/Jack
Rating: R (Ooh, I'm so proud of myself!)
Spoilers: Season 6
A/N: In equation form, S6 + AU + total fluff + porn = I don't know what the hell has gotten into me. But I wanted to write a piece in which neither Desmond the born-again 'shipper nor Suliet-flavored coffee ruins the Jack and Juliet show I'm watching in my head. Please be warned that this is the first time I have ever written a proper sex scene and I am probably wretched at it. It's slightly!awkward!sex, but that's the only kind of sex I can imagine Jack having for some reason. For those who've read my "workshop fic #2," part one is the same as that; part two is the new stuff (with Claire added!). I literally could not stop writing this thing until I finished it: it was that addictive.
~~
“You told him?” Juliet looked angry as she approached his car. He wished he could say that he was unfamiliar with the expression: her pursed lips reminded him of all the fights they’d had before, of his drinking and the divorce. Of all the things that came before Australia.
He leaned heavily on the window as if to prevent himself from slipping back into that place. When she made it to the door, she was inches away from his arm, practically at eye-level. She looked beautiful, he thought, the bright sun filtering through her hair and light yellow shirt, but she was looking at him sharply and he had to answer.
“I can’t lie to him anymore, Juliet” he said quietly, refusing to get defensive and yell like he usually did, “I promised myself after the audition that I wasn’t going to lie to him again.”
He could see her anger faltering, her features rearranging themselves into a look of puzzlement, of soft reproach as she met his eyes.
“He asked?”
“Yeah. He asked. He saw us holding hands on St. Patrick’s Day.” He sighed, leaning back into the seat of his car, “Do you want to go get some coffee or something?”
She raised her eyebrows at him: he knew it was a loaded question, considering that the last time they’d gone out for coffee they’d ended up kissing in the parking lot for so long that he hadn’t known how much time they’d lost when they stopped, and Juliet had cursed and told him she was going to be late to a meeting.
“Alright,” she agreed slowly, “Just let me leave a note for David-in case he gets back from school.” She sounded like she was in the doghouse: Jack could sympathize.
He nodded, watched the house, still after she disappeared into it, the strange silver rabbit at the door winking at him in the sun. When she got back into his truck, slamming the door, he resumed the conversation. “Was he upset?”
“No,” she said quickly, looking out the front window as he backed out of the driveway. Then she sighed and turned toward him, “Yes. Well, a little bit, anyway.”
He didn’t ask why she hadn’t told David anything, because what they had wasn’t strong enough for that yet, and he knew it.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead, and the words had a familiar, bittersweet taste in his mouth as he waited for the light to turn green.
“That’s ok,” she answered, “He’ll get over it…eventually. I think he was more upset about me not telling him than about-us.”
He couldn’t help swallowing nervously as she said it-out of the corner of his eye, he could see that she was studying him, considering something, but she didn’t say anything until they pulled into the parking lot and he turned off the ignition.
He was startled when she laid a hand on his forearm.
“Jack, are you ok?” He turned to look at her, surprised to see her concern-a look which he had seen many times-focused on him. “You seem so tired. You’re not- Nothing’s happened, has it?”
He knew she wanted to ask if he had started drinking again, but didn’t want to say it, because she thought it would be terrible to suspect him now, after all he’d been through. But Jack didn’t think it was terrible: he felt how tenuous his victory was every time he was upset, every time he thought about his father and wanted a drink. He didn’t blame her in the least.
“No,” he answered, looking down at her hand before meeting her eyes. She looked soft, pretty; he wanted to kiss her, but he held back, biting his lip. He leaned backward, sighing and closing his eyes, “I mean-well, there is something, but not that.”
“I don’t want to pry.”
“It’s ok,” he answered, feeling suddenly brave enough to take her hand. She squeezed his back reassuringly. “It’s my father.” He almost laughed. What else could it be? “Remember how I told you that my mom and I finally found his will? Well, it turns out that I have a half-sister.”
“What? Your father-”
“She lives in Australia. We haven’t been able to contact her yet, but he left her something, and that’s how we found out.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah-my mom is really upset. I don’t think she knew. I mean, maybe she suspected, but-”
“Knowing is different. Oh Jack, I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok. It’s not the worst thing that could happen-to me, anyway. I guess I did always want a younger brother or sister back when I was a kid.”
Juliet returned his rueful smile gently.
“That’s one way to look at it,” she laughed softly, but her expression was serious when she added, “It’s wonderful having a sister.” When her gaze returned to his from a great distance, he thought it must be true, and he felt himself longing for the connection as if it was something he’d already had-and lost.
~~
His hands shook a little as they pulled up to Juliet’s house: coffee was not exactly the best prescription for the anxiety that had been troubling him recently, but it was better than alcohol. He felt wired and nervous when he put the car into park, but lucid, aware of the warmth of the sun on his skin, the sounds of people laughing down the street, Juliet’s least movement in the seat next to him.
“I don’t think he’s here,” she said, peering toward the house at some indiscernible sign, blocking out the sun’s glare with her hand, “Do you want to come in?”
He hesitated, trying not to sigh in relief. He had been thinking about this meeting all week, and he was relieved that it wasn’t over yet.
She misinterpreted his hesitation and said, “That’s not why I’m inviting you in,” and when his mouth dropped open in confusion, added, “I mean, I’m not trying to hide you from David anymore. I’ll tell him-I don’t know what I’ll tell him. But I’m not going to pretend you weren’t here. Do you want to come in?”
“Yeah,” he thought it was best to keep it simple. He turned off the ignition and hooked his thumbs in his pockets as he got out of the car. He followed Juliet to the front door, trying not to stand too close as she fiddled with the key.
When they were inside, he looked at the countertops, admired again the lived-in quality of her house, so different from his own-books, notes, and some of David’s things lay on the table, while she picked up a torn piece of paper on the countertop.
“Oh, right: baseball practice. I forgot. Is it Wednesday already?”
“It sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?” he asked, thinking of yesterday’s six-hour surgery and the long AA meeting afterward, feeling suddenly tired, as if remembering were more tiring than the experience itself.
“Yeah, it does,” she put down the note and turned to him, her smile an enigma. He smiled back without knowing why, feeling that she was beyond him somehow; that she could see something in him that he couldn’t.
“Jack,” she left the countertop to stand close to him. He was surprised when she reached for his hand, taking it in hers and squeezing it gently, “I’m think I’m going to tell David that we’re seeing each other, if that’s ok with you.” His mouth twitched upward at the corners as he exhaled, the brief smile all that the current state of his nerves would allow him. Even though he knew how forthright Juliet usually was, he hadn’t expected this. He turned to face her in a haze.
“It’s ok with me,” he said softly, and he barely had time to get the words out before he could feel her mouth against his, her arms going around his neck. He opened his mouth in surprise; his nose bumped hers clumsily as he reacted to the unexpected contact, but she ignored his movement: she just turned her head for a better angle, pulling his face toward hers to keep him steady. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t-he was too afraid to hesitate, too desperate to feel her against him again-so he kissed her back instead.
They kissed slowly and deeply: he refused to rush, wanting to draw the moment out while it lasted. He knew she had given him a promise-of sorts-with her declaration, but he had also learned to understand promises differently since he’d been recovering, knowing they were no guarantee that life would be less difficult, or that he’d ever be able to stop trying. Nevertheless, taking things one moment at a time didn’t seem like such a hardship then as she backed him against the kitchen counter, pressing her hips against his. He almost forgot that there was any such thing as a future when she brushed against his groin.
His brain seemed to go fuzzy with the contact, and he moved on instinct, his hands slipping down to her bottom to hold her against him. When he pulled her close, she groaned in his ear and the sound went through him like a shot.
He kissed her throat the way he had wanted to for weeks as the sun came down in the window behind them, and he thought vaguely that time must be passing, even though he couldn’t feel it. Juliet was distracted by the change in the light: she turned to look out the window with a sigh, touched his shoulder and said, “Jack-”
“He’ll be back soon, won’t he?” He paused over her collarbone.
“Yeah,” she half-smiled, half-grimaced, looking down at him. He smiled at the familiarity of the expression as he slowly righted himself, his hands lingering at her hips, “I’d invite you to dinner, but I think he might still not be speaking terms with me right now.”
“It’s that bad, huh?” he winced.
“It’s ok: he cools off pretty fast. He got his temper from you, you know.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Take it however you want to take it,” she giggled, touching his cheek, her eyes warm as she looked into his. “I’m sorry to send you away like this,” she said, and he could tell from her eyes and her voice that she was, and that more than made up for his disappointment in having to leave so soon.
“It’s ok,” his calmness and his smile came easily, “David comes first. I should go-”
When he opened the front door, it was almost completely dark. He turned to her, an “I’ll call you” waiting on his lips, but she leaned up to kiss it away, her mouth sweet and wet, before he had a chance to say anything.
“Jack,” she pulled away, and swallowed, and he could almost feel her mind working in the dark, but he had no idea what she was going to say, “David has a camping trip for school in two weeks.”
“Oh. Am I supposed to take him that weekend? Things have been so crazy lately; I can’t remember what day it is anymore.”
“No: you’re not supposed to take him,” she snorted, and then looked self-conscious for a minute, “God, I’m terrible at this. I mean David’s camping trip is overnight.”
“Oh-” he said, and thought, Oh. “and you want me to-come over?”
“Yeah,” she sounded amused despite herself, and for a moment, he couldn’t tell whether she was laughing at herself or at him.
He felt his eyes grow dark. “Yeah-yeah, of course,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice.
“If you can get away from the hospital,” she added.
“I think I can manage it. They’ve-uh, they’ve been asking me to take some time off lately anyway, because of my father.”
“It’s on Saturday. I’ll let you know the date,” she was looking out over his shoulder, and he wasn’t sure why, distracted by what she’d been saying, until he turned his head.
“Hey Dad,” David stepped through the door, still in his baseball uniform. His tone was neutral, pleasant, even, and he smiled, but he didn’t say anything to Juliet.
“Hey. How was practice?”
“It was good. Uh, I’m sorry about this, but I’ve got a ton of homework to do-”
“Yeah, no problem,”
“I’ll tell you about it this weekend.”
“Sounds good.”
“You’re picking me up on Friday, right?”
“Yep. The South entrance?”
“Yeah. I’d better go. See you later!”
“Bye, David,” Jack called out, but David was halfway up the stairs by the time the words were out. Jack couldn’t help but grinning, misplaced as the expression was, as Juliet raised her eyebrows at him.
“Aren’t you jealous that he’s not giving me the silent treatment?”
She couldn’t help but laugh at that.
~~
His heart beat rapidly as he pressed the doorbell with his thumb and waited for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The dark stars above his head, the neatly manicured lawn and the tarnished silver rabbit hunched over on the porch felt slightly surreal, just like everything had felt since he’d returned from Australia.
This week, Claire, his new sister, had taken him aside, lowered her voice quite seriously and offered him an astrological explanation: “This is a bad month for Cancer,” she’d said, and he’d simply nodded politely, not sure if she’d be offended if he laughed. But despite her dire predictions, she’d helped him pick out a shirt for tonight anyway. “It’s blue,” she’d told him, stating the obvious in a way that made it sound like a secret, “That’s a good color on you. She’ll like it.”
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, scratching at the itchy collar of the shirt absentmindedly, then checking his cell phone to make sure that Juliet hadn’t sent him a message without his knowing it. But the phone showed him only the time and a picture of David, and as he was holding it open, he could hear the sound of Juliet’s shoes on the wooden floor.
“Hey, Jack. Sorry it took me so long.” the door cracked open audibly, and then he closed his phone, forgetting all about his shirt and the stars and Claire.
“Hey. That’s ok.” The universe seemed to slip back into place again when he looked at her: everything about her was real and clear: the sleek, smooth blondeness of her hair, the soft, familiar curves of her face and the brightness of her eyes. She was wearing a pale, thin blue sweater and a delicate silver pendant that dipped down into the partly visible space between her breasts, and it was all he could do not to stare.
“Come on in,” she smiled at his hesitation, the glazed look he was certain he was giving her, and took a few steps backward to give him room to enter.
As he made his way into the foyer, he wondered whether she was expecting him to simply turn around and take hold of her hips, to kiss her against the banister until she decided to lead him to the bedroom. When she took him down the hall, his eyes moved down her body and he thought quite seriously-almost too seriously-about reaching for her like he might have done years ago.
But even with tonight’s invitation, even with all the encouragement she had given him over the past two weeks, he hesitated. All of this-her forgiveness and her interest in him-was too new. He didn’t know where it had come from, and between everything that had just happened with his father, finding Claire, getting sober again, and being unable to sleep, he felt unsure of the ground beneath his feet. He didn’t trust the sudden strangeness of the world; he didn’t trust the sudden strangeness of himself.
“David got off to camp ok?” he asked as he followed Juliet into the kitchen.
“Yeah. We almost missed the bus, though. He takes forever to get ready when he doesn’t have a uniform to wear,” she rested her arm on the countertop and smiled at him warmly. “How are you?” she asks, “How’s Claire?”
“She’s great. Thanks for talking to her. She wanted me to tell you how much she appreciated it.”
“No problem. Having a kid for the first time is scary, and she’s still pretty young. I remember how that felt.”
He released a nervous breath that wasn’t quite a laugh, “That seems like a lifetime ago,” he said, and looked at her. She only smiled in acknowledgement.
“So I have to admit that I didn’t actually cook dinner,” she gestured to the table instead, where paper takeout packages were resting next to the more permanent table settings.
“Really?,” he couldn’t resist teasing her, “You mean you don’t put your food in little boxes like that?”
“You should just be thankful that I didn’t cook-unless you were gunning for grilled cheese,” she laughed, moving to the containers with him to open them, “You still like Moo Shu Pork, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered, looking up at her from the steaming box, surprised, somehow, that she remembered, “but I like grilled cheese too.”
Part 2