Title: Take the Place of You
Rating: PG-13, at least for now, may change later…
Summary: Portman left Julie and their boys a long time ago. Now, years of absence later, Portman's back. Julie doesn't know where she can fit him in…or even if she wants him around.
Feedback: Go on, review, I dare ya…
Dedication: For Cimmy, because I can't write a nice, angsty Connie/Guy one shot in less than six months…
Special Thanks: To Schiz, my new beta, who's being so wonderful and correcting all my stupidity, I thank her here. Thank you Schiz!!!
Disclaimer: All the Ducks belong to Disney. Jack and Chase are mine.
Story Notes: I have no idea how long this story will be. It depends how far my ideas take me. I only have the beginning and end worked out, but the end is subject to change. It takes place when Julie and Portman are 34, and Jack and Chase are 14. Fulton will also play a big role in this story.
Chapter 1
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"Hey Mom, we're going to practice, see ya later!" Jack calls from the hall to the kitchen, where I'm cutting up potatoes for dinner.
"All right. Chase, wear your helmet!"
"Aww, Mom, come on, it squeezes my head!" Chase says.
"That's the point! It protects your head! Wear it, Chase, or I'll have you off that team so fast-"
"-it'll make my head spin. I know, I know, you always say that. Bye Mom!" Chase finishes my sentence.
"Be good, boys! Have a good time!" I call.
"We will," they say in unison, and I hear the door slam. They're gone, off to spend another afternoon at hockey practice, which I generally don't mind. I'm
glad that they're into hockey, mostly because I love it so much, and I want them to love it as well.
I guess I ought to explain who 'they' are. 'They' are Jack and Chase Portman. Jack and Chase Portman are my identical twin boys. They're fourteen years old,
brown-haired, blue-eyed, and they are my universe. The pair of them play hockey all the time, eat more than I thought humanly possible, and somehow maintain a
healthy weight. I love hockey, and was thrilled when they took an interest in the sport after seeing a couple of games on television.
I put the potatoes in water and into the refrigerator for later, when I actually have to cook them. I then take a seat on the living room couch with the paper,
hoping that Chase keeps his helmet on. It's the only thing I really have to worry about for them playing hockey. But other than that, I don't have to worry about hockey-related injuries too much. My boys are 5'11, 165 pounds, and still growing. They're big…like their father.
Their father. Their father. Their no-good, scum-sucking, low-life schmuck of a father, who knocked me up when I was 19. Their father, who swore he loved me,
and married me. Their father, who left when we were 22, and our boys were 2, without warning. Their father, whose idea of a decent goodbye was a note telling
me that he felt trapped and couldn't stay anymore. Their father, who broke their mother's heart. Their asshole of a father, known to the rest of the world as Dean Portman.
That's right, Portman. Hockey enforcing extraordinaire, tough, ruggedly handsome Portman. Even after all these years, he's still Portman. Not Dean…never Dean.
Just Portman. There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about Portman. And the idiot foolish enough to sleep with him, and then marry him, was me. I'm
Julie Gaffney. I changed my last name to Portman when we married, but after he left, I changed it back to Gaffney. Julie Gaffney flows so much better than Julie Portman, and why hang on to a last name that isn't yours? My boys are still Portmans, though. I figure if he ever wants to find them one day, he can look for his own name, as he'll probably have forgotten mine…
He doesn't come to see me. He doesn't come to see them. He sends a child support check once a month. He doesn't call, he doesn't instant message, he doesn't
write. Actually, that's not completely true. On Jack and Chase's birthday, he sends them each a card with a fifty dollar bill in each, and says something like 'Jack/Chase- Happy Birthday! Love, Dad' in it. It's not much, but I suppose it's better than nothing at all. They used to ask me questions about him whenever
they got their cards, and we ceremonially put the bills in their separate little piggy banks for someday. Now they don't ask questions, pocket the money, and use
it go buy nice things for themselves, or their girlfriends, or occasionally me.
For a long time, Jack and Chase couldn't understand why their father never came to see them, or why they were the only ones in their classes who didn't have a
father in their home, or close by. They remember him, vaguely. I had hoped they wouldn't because it would save me the painful answers to the questions they were
going to ask.
"Mom, why doesn't Dad ever come and visit us?" Jack had asked me randomly, one afternoon, when he was six.
"Daddy's busy, honey," I'd told him, unsure of what else to say.
"Yeah, Mom, will he ever visit?" Chase had asked.
"Hopefully when he's not so busy anymore," I told my son.
Well, 'Daddy' must have been continually busy for the past twelve years, because he hasn't found a single minute to spare and spend with his twin boys.
I think Jack and Chase had hoped for Portman to come back until they were about 10. It was around that age they stopped asking me questions about him. Now, they don't bring it up and I don't either. I don't enjoy remembering those first five years after Portman left.
I had just finished college, and was working my first job when Portman left. He obviously quit his job, and so then I worked two jobs to make up the difference
in money. I barely had time for my kids or to take care of the apartment we lived in. I began to drink a little more than I should have.
Fortunately, before things got too far into the gutter to save, Fulton Reed showed up. He's an old friend of mine and Portman's from our old hockey team,
the Ducks. Ah, the Ducks: Charlie Conway, Adam Banks, Connie Moreau, Greg Goldberg, Kenny Wu, Guy Germaine, Dwayne Robertson, Dean Portman, Fulton Reed, Luis Mendoza, Russ Tyler, Les Averman, and me. Way back in high school, before I was Julie Portman, or Julie 'with-two-kids' Gaffney, or Julie
'the-idiot-who-got-knocked-up-when-she-was-19' Gaffney. Way back when I was just Julie Gaffney, or Julie the Cat…Julie the Cat, I miss that nickname…damn, those days are so long gone.
Anyway, Fulton noticed that Portman didn't answer his calls and wasn't showing up to hang out anymore, and came over to investigate. I told him what happened,
in hysterical tears, and he became an important part of our lives. Fulton, between his life and job, found the time to come over and help out and do stuff with the kids after Portman left. He sent me to an alcoholics' program, right away, when he found out about my drinking, even though I hadn't developed a serious habit by then.
Fulton is Jack and Chase's father figure. Fulton's the one who turned on the television to a hockey game, the same game that sparked the boys' interest in
the sport. He took them to the park on those Saturdays when there was nothing else to do. He was the one who took them to their first hockey game. He taught
them to skate while I worked winter weekends so our family would have a decent Christmas. He stayed with them while I worked nights. When Jack and Chase got older, Fulton was the one who explained to them the birds and the bees, because I couldn't find the words.
I'll be forever in Fulton Reed's debt for those first five years. He doesn't come over as often anymore, since things have changed. I've saved enough money
to work one job, Portman started sending checks once a month, and the boys got older. But he still comes for things like the boys' birthday, my birthday, big hockey games on TV, and some holidays. Every year we take Fulton out for his birthday…which reminds me, that's coming up soon. I'd better find a nice place
to take him out to.
"Hey Mom! We're home!" Jack's voice comes echoing through the apartment.
They're home? Have I been sitting here daydreaming for that long already? I glance at the clock. It's already 5:30 PM! They left at 2:30! I'd better start dinner now.
"Mom, are you ok?" Jack asks me, looking concerned.
"I'm fine, sweetheart, how was practice?"
"It was very…practice-ish," says Chase, who comes teetering into the room under the weight of his huge hockey bag. Looking at Chase, I realize a huge bruise is
now on his cheek that hadn't been there when he left.
"You didn't wear your helmet, did you?" I ask my son.
"And disobey my dear mother? Never," Chase grins at me. "I got into a fight, that's all."
"A fight? Why? With who?" I can't help but smile at him. I should probably be telling him off for fighting, not acting like a school girl and giggling about
it, but kill me, I'm curious. Curiosity killed the cat…
"One of those guys on that other team that takes the ice after us..." Chase's voice trails off, and then he looks at Jack. "The Wasps, was it?"
"Yeah, the Wasps," Jack nods, and then turns to me. "You should have seen Chase take the guy out, Mom!"
"Are you alright, Chase?" I ask.
"Never better," Chase grins.
"Alright. Why'd you have to 'take the guy out' like Jack says?"
"Well…" Chase and Jack exchange a look. I know that look. It's the same look Connie and I used to exchange when we had to tell Charlie something we really
didn't want to.
"Well what, Chase?"
"He was calling you a whore, Mom," Chase says quickly, as if the words would be less painful if I heard them very fast.
"Really? Why?" I ask, a bit shocked.
"Because, well, you…" Chase stutters.
"Cause you got pregnant at nineteen and then Dad left you all alone…it's that kid, Jaime Riley," Jack's face contorts as he says the kid's name.
"Jaime Riley? You mean Rick Riley's son?"
"Yes."
"Oh, well that explains a lot…" Rick Riley, captain of the Varsity hockey team the Ducks' freshman year in high school when we were on JV, somehow ended up at the same college I did. He found out I was pregnant and spread it around. I'm not sure how he found out, exactly, but I think he overheard me talking to
Connie when she came to visit on Visitor's Day.
"Hey Mom, we're really sorry-" Chase begins, but I cut him off, realizing that I have to be a mother now and tell my sons off for fighting- even if they were
sticking up for me.
"Listen, don't worry about what Riley says from now on. Ignore him. I don't want you fighting, Chase, you'll get yourself into a lot of trouble that way. You
too, Jack."
"But he was calling you-!"
"I don't care what he was calling me. Don't fight unless you're defending your own physical well-being. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mom," Chase sighs.
"You too, Jack?"
"Ok, Mom," Jack sighs as well.
"I mean it, you two," I say in the sternest voice I can muster.
"All right, all right, we will, we will," Chase says, rolling his eyes.
"So what's for dinner?" Jack asks, looking anxious to change the subject.
"Pot roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, and applesauce."
Both my sons decide this is a meal they approve of, and head to the bathroom to clean up for dinner.
Jack, Chase, and I are sitting down to watch television after dinner when the phone rings.
Jack picks it up. "Hello?"
Silence for a few seconds. Jack stares at the receiver before answering this time, and then says, "It's Jack."
Silence for a few more seconds.
"I'm fine, how are you?" Jack's voice is very strained. Who's on the other end of the phone? An ex-girlfriend?
Silence again.
"Yeah, she's here."
'She' must mean me. It's not an ex-girlfriend; she wouldn't be calling for me. Silence again while the person on the other end of the line speaks. Who could it be?
"I guess she'll talk to you," Jack says, and hands me the phone.
"Who is it?" I ask, covering the mouthpiece with my hand.
Jack looks at me, confused. "He says he's Dad."
I look at my sons. Confusion and shock are written on both their faces. I look down at the phone, and notice my hand is shaking. God, oh God, what do I do?
"Mom?"
"What, Jack?"
"Are you going to talk to him?"
I nod numbly, and ignore the questioning looks in my sons' eyes, and bring the phone up to my ear. "Hello?"