As I've mentioned before, I love song fics. I write to music and I'm inspired by music all the time. The following story was inspired by a Jason Mraz song, "Love For a Child". There are some adult themes and language, so I'm rating it M to be safe.
Now, I expect this story will not be everyone's cup of tea. I only ask that if you don't like it, stop reading. This isn't required reading for your English class. Read (and review) if you like it. If you don't, that's okay; just move on to something else.
Oh, and I'll try to update this every week. I'm trying to stay a few chapters ahead of what is posted here. If you have no patience, all drafts are posted in my lj before they are posted here.
(And obviously, I own nothing, except maybe Dr. Lawrence and her family.)
It was all about love for…
By: December
Prologue: Emptying the Cup, Starting the Story
It was interesting that now, in this situation, he felt as if he was being called on the carpet by a parent. He hadn't felt that way when he should have. And now, that he should be more responsible – when he should be in a different stage of his life, he felt this way. He had done a lot of things late because of his self-destructive way of coping in the past. But this worry, this dread of disappointing a parent had to be a little out of place here.
Honestly, this feeling of dread was coming way too late, in his opinion. The dread that rested like a lead ball in his stomach, he should have felt at ten when he unsettled everyone in his "new home". He should have felt this worry at sixteen when he was caught sneaking back into the house in an impaired state. He didn't feel it then. He felt it now, as he walked back to his advisor's office.
"James. Have a seat," his advisor smiled as she took her own seat. He seated himself, but stared at his lap for a few minutes. He didn't want to look up and se the smile fall off of her face…because it would.
"So…what happened?" she asked in a quiet voice.
He shrugged, hoping that would be enough. But he should have known better. It would have been enough for the people who didn't care but should have. Of course it wouldn't be enough for the person who cared, but didn't have to.
"James," she said after a pause, "I need more than that. You started off well."
"I know," he said finally, as it became clear that she would continue to look at him until he responded.
"You continued to do well after the reading holiday. You were even on track for dean's list before the withdrawal deadline. But then it was almost as if you purposely tanked all of your finals. I don't think it was on purpose, but-"
"I can do better this semester, Dr. Lawrence," he rushed to say, disturbed by the fact that he might have disappointed her.
"I'm sure you can, James," her expression softened. "But to learn from the fall semester, we have to talk about it first."
"I might have been overly ambitious last semester, but I'm taking fewer credits and have tutoring all lined up and-" James was surprised to hear himself babble. Out of all of things he picked up growing up, the babbling was a surprise. It wasn't something his mother or father did. It was something she did.
"James Michael Venturi!" Dr. Lawrence broke into his verbal diarrhea. "Just…just stop." After he fell silent, she continued, "While those things might be great steps, you are sidestepping the issue, whatever it is. And I think you need to address it."
James probably could have replied in a variety of ways. What he ended up saying was, "I wish you wouldn't call me that." It was probably another side-step, but he was sensitive about that. He had talked about that, although not the reasons why.
"James," the older woman behind the desk just shook her head. "Okay, I won't use your last name for the rest of our time together, if you talk about what happened. To someone, if not to me. I'm sure someone at CAPS-"
"I never told you about my family, did I?" James asked.
"Wh-what?" Dr. Lawrence asked. James realized that he had managed to stump her with a question she must find random. Yet, it wasn't. Everything he was and everything he wasn't was tied to those people. "How does that-" Dr. Lawrence continued before James cut her off.
"I'm getting to that," he assured her. Taking a deep breath, he ran his hand through his blond hair as he tried to fit his words together. How did he approach this? Finally, he decided to go back to something she had said earlier. "You asked what happened in the fall. What happened was that I made a mistake. The mistake I made in the fall happened in November."
Taking Dr. Lawrence's silence as a sign that she was still listening, he continued. "I hadn't gone home during the reading holiday or during what you would call the Canadian observance of Thanksgiving. So, I decided to go home the weekend that Thanksgiving was celebrated here. I spent time with my family," James could hear his anger in the way his voice got louder on the word 'family'. "And that probably destroyed me again, in some small way at least."
James looked up to see a very concerned Dr. Lawrence. She had even managed to pale slightly, although that was hard to tell, given her skin tone. "I'm not so sure you should be sharing this with me-" she began in a hesitant voice.
Maybe he was afraid of rejection, or rejection again, because he cut her off before he could refer him to anyone else. "Yes! Yes, I should," he insisted. "I need to share it with you because you care, and not because you have to."
"O-okay," the academic stuttered slightly. She looked a little out of her element. And, she probably was. He knew her background wasn't psychology. Which was good, as psychologists knew nothing. Taking a deep breath, she focused her attention back on him, but she didn't say anything. James took this as a sign to continue.
But he didn't right away, in part because he didn't know where to start. Looking around her office, he noticed it among all of her pictures. There was a picture of her daughter, Imani, who was also a freshman that year. They had met on a few occasions. He liked Imani, when he didn't envy her. He'd even spent part of the reading holiday with the Lawrence family because Imani invited him. It had unsettled Dr. Lawrence a bit, but, by the end she seemed to be happy he was there. She had even extending an invitation to Thanksgiving.
He should have taken her up on that.
Looking at the picture, some of James' thoughts just came pouring out. "Take Imani. She's rather lucky. You worked through any tough stuff you faced in the course of your marriage to her father – you two are still together, after all. But that's probably because you love him."
Clearly that statement had startled Dr. Lawrence, but James plowed on because if she stopped him, he might never finish. "You were probably on Imani about her grades. I bet you knew who her friends were. You have rules that you enforced. You weren't moved by guilt or mind games, I'm sure. I bet Imani never even tried to use them. You told her no-"
"Wow," Dr. Lawrence whispered. And then she laughed, but it was clearly a laugh that expressed discomfort and not mirth. "Sounds like I owe my baby girl an apology."
"No! No, that's…that's not what I meant," James got out. "You – you held her to standards. You paid attention to her. Because you love her. You love her. And I fucking envy her for that."
In dropping the f-bomb, something else let go in him. If he was a girl, he probably would have cried. Or not – his father had a problem with tears, which meant James had a complex about them. Men weren't supposed to cry. They were supposed to curse.
"Shit!" James tried to stop the shaking in his frame, but couldn't. He suddenly jumped up and tried pacing. He got as far as the wall before he started to bang his head against it.
"James-" a tentative voice called him back. Turning from the wall, he saw a very worried and more nervous pair of brown eyes turned on him. He'd scared her, he'd bet. He hadn't meant to do that.
He moved back to his chair and sat down before answering her. "I'm sorry, Dr. Lawrence. I'm just…fuck, I'm not sure what's wrong with me. It's just – I'm glad. I'm glad Imani had someone like you. A parent like you. But I'm jealous as hell."
"Jealous? Of Imani?" his advisor asked in surprise. "You're jealous of my daughter because I never let her have any fun? Not that ever really complained about that. At least not much."
"Yeah, jealous. And, of course Imani doesn't complain. She's smart, after all. And she knows she's loved. All kids should know that."
"James?" Dr. Lawrence asked as she looked at him. Something in her eyes made him think she had an idea of where his story was going to go. It was enough to make him look down in his lap before speaking again. It was like he was afraid that she would pity him or something. Was that his fear? That he'd inspire pity…or that he'd inspire revulsion?
His fear aside, he should probably get this out. He started down this road by mentioning Imani, he better finish it. "People like your daughter have no idea how lucky they are. They don't know what it feels like to know you're the unwanted evidence of a mistake. A mistake your father made that you mother tries to escape from everyday."
"Oh, James."
The young man didn't look up. By now, he was sure she was reaching for a phone to call for help – for him or to help her out of this conversation. "I'm scaring you, aren't I?" he asked.
There was a pause before she answered. "Just a little," she replied in a wiry tone. "Maybe, if you started at the beginning. Explain why you feel that way."
James shrugged as he tugged a little on his leather jacket. "Okay. I'll start at the beginning of this mess, when my parents met. When Derek met Sally."
"'When Derek met Sally'? Sounds like a movie title," Dr. Lawrence smiled, obviously trying to be encouraging.
It, however, just made James snort. "If it was a movie, it was a horror movie. And a senseless one. All that loss because people were stupid. It probably would have caused the audience to scream at the characters and throw popcorn at the screen."
Dr. Lawrence seemed nonplussed for a moment, as if she didn't know what to do next. And, given her background, she probably didn't know what to do next. But she did occasionally do research, and Imani did say that members of the extended family were very nosey, so that it probably why she decided to ask a question. "So…how did Derek meet Sally?"
He appreciated the question. With that question he could tell a story, just a story. He didn't have to talk about how he felt or what that meant. He'd scared her a lot already, and this story was going to make her nervousness worse instead of better. But at least it didn't have to start out with his personal feelings.
"It all started thirty-five years ago, in a restaurant that catered to high school and college students in London, Ontario."
to be continued –
