Notes: Thank you all for your lovely comments! :)
When the Winds of Changes Shift
rosabelle
Chapter III
"Are you seriously sending me to my room without dinner?"
Rusty meant it as a joke, but the humor was lost on Sharon. She didn't laugh; in fact, she looked vaguely worried when she stopped pacing behind the couch and turned towards him. "Oh, Rusty, no. You're more than welcome to join us for dinner, but Jack and I—"
"Have things that you need to talk about privately," he finished for her. She'd told him twice already. "I know, Sharon. I get it."
"Right." She gave him a small smile and returned to her agitated pacing.
Rusty shifted, stretching his legs out across the couch. "Is he in some kind of trouble or something?"
"Jack?" she said, and shook her head. "I'm sure it's something. I hate that I'm doing exactly what he wants by inviting him here, but I refuse to let him take advantage of his children."
She stopped pacing and marched to one of the armchairs, seizing the pillow almost violently in her arms as she sat. "I'm sorry," she said. "You don't need to hear all this."
"It's fine, Sharon." He hesitated. "But, like, do you not want me to stick around for dinner, because I could..."
"If you feel uncomfortable joining us, I certainly understand," she said. "But it's perfectly all right with me if you want to stay."
"I'll stay, then. If you're sure."
He couldn't deny that he was bursting with curiosity. Before last summer, Sharon had mentioned Jack so infrequently that he'd forgotten she was even married at all. His name had come up here and there since then—enough for Rusty to think that maybe Jack was less okay of a person than he'd previously thought and, yeah, it had been a dick move for him to leave without saying goodbye.
"Are you going to make him pay your son back?"
"I can't make Jack do anything," Sharon told him. "And Ricky refuses to admit that he even gave Jack money in the first place... He's always had this—this fantasy of who his father was."
"I always—" By the time Rusty realized that he really shouldn't have said anything at all, Sharon was looking at him. He glanced away, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "My mom told me that my father died fighting in Bosnia."
Sharon nodded, lowering her chin until it touched the top of the pillow. He'd told her that much before, he thought, but it was hard to remember.
He drew in a deep breath before he went on. "I always wondered if that was why she... like if he hadn't died, things would've been better. Then..." He shrugged. "I would've been better off if it were true."
He didn't tell her about how, before he was old enough to know better, he'd lain awake at night and imagined his father appearing at their apartment door, back from the dead and there to make them a family again. It could've happened. People were sometimes misidentified.
And now... he didn't need a father and he didn't want one.
"Speaking of your mother." Sharon was frowning at him. "Have you given any thought to how you want to proceed with her?"
"I'm working on it," he said, feeling his spine stiffen. "It's... it's complicated, okay?"
"I'm not trying to push you." She must've heard the tension in his voice. "Just... let me know what you decide."
"Yeah," he said, tugging at his hem again. "I will."
Her frowned deepened, but she said nothing. Her arms tightened around the pillow. He stared at the floor and tried very had not to look at her. He shouldn't have mentioned his mother when he knew that Sharon didn't want him to see her. She was trying to hide it behind "it's up to you" and "what matters is what you want," but he wasn't stupid, okay? And he knew Sharon.
She was right, though—it was up to him, and that knowledge was paralyzing him, because now that he'd had the time to think about it, he did want to see his mother, even if it was just once to know that she was okay, but he loved Sharon too. He loved her a lot, and it was too late to take that back or cut her off, so that meant that no matter what he chose, someone would end up hurt. He didn't want that, but he was having a hard time seeing a way around it.
The sound of a key scratching in the lock might have relieved him as much as it made Sharon look grim and unhappy. "Is Jack trying to break in again?"
"I'm not sure I told him I changed the locks," Sharon said, sighing as she rose. "Well. I'm sure this will be... fun."
Yeah, and maybe tomorrow they'd invite Phillip Stroh over for breakfast, he thought, trailing after Sharon to the door. That sounded fun too. Rusty stopped just behind Sharon, close enough to see the rise and fall of her shoulders as she released another deep breath before she reached for the door.
"Jack," she said. "It's... been awhile."
"Hey, Sharon." He smiled at her. "You change the locks or something?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
"You didn't have to go to all that trouble," he told her. "I know you were mad at me, but geez. I stayed away like you made it very clear you wanted."
Sharon hummed in response.
Rusty decided not to mention that the lock changing had more to do with the serial killer who'd been stalking him than anything else.
"So." Sharon stepped back to let him in. "How's the apartment working out?"
"There was a, uh—" Jack gave her a sheepish grin, holding his fingers close together. "There was a little problem with the apartment."
"What was the problem?"
"The landlord."
"Ah."
"But there's no reason to get into all that right now, it's—hey." Jack noticed him for the first time. "How are you, kid?"
He'd given up hoping to be referred to as anything but "the kid" by the team, but that didn't mean it wasn't annoying, and it was a thousand times more so when Jack said it because Jack didn't even know him, really. "Fine," he said cautiously.
"Still hanging around here, huh?"
Rusty felt himself bristle.
"Rusty is free to stay as long as he likes," Sharon said. "You, on the other hand, have a much more limited invitation."
He couldn't tell if Sharon sounded so annoyed because Jack was here at all, or if because she too was remembering how hard she'd worked to convince him that he didn't need to move out the moment he turned eighteen.
"I was wondering if maybe, if it's all right with you—it's your place after all—it might not be quite so limited."
"Let's start with dinner." Sharon pressed her lips together, directing him towards the table with a sweeping wave of her hand. "We'll work our way up from there."
"Thanks, Sharon," he said. "I really appreciate it."
She made a quiet, disbelieving noise in her throat, and favored Rusty with a small smile. "What are you in the mood for? And don't say burgers."
"Uh..." Her sudden attention startled him. He settled on the first thing that came into his mind. "Chinese."
Sharon looked a little surprised because that usually wasn't his first choice, but she went to find the takeout menus from the kitchen. Rusty kept his eyes on Jack, who watched Sharon, who was studiously ignoring both of them as she rummaged through the drawers. He hadn't noticed before, because Jack hadn't wanted anything from him—in fact, Jack had actually done a lot for him, picking him up from school and taking him to dinner and yeah, he'd talked an awful lot but that was a price Rusty was willing to pay for not being embarrassed by the stupid patrol car and Sharon's complete overreaction.
But now, watching them, it obvious that Jack wanted something from Sharon, and it was so clear that he wondered how he could ever have missed it.
"Okay." Sharon straightened up with a handful of paper menus. "What'll it be?"
He discovered why Sharon had told him it was fine not to join them for dinner during the next half hour while they waited for their food. Obviously, they weren't going to talk about their marriage and everything wrong with it in front of him, but Sharon didn't seem to feel like talking about much of anything and even Jack didn't have a story to tell, so they mostly sat around the table in tense silence.
Rusty was sure that it hadn't been like this last summer. Sure, Sharon hadn't been thrilled that Jack had moved onto her couch, but there had been actual conversation. Jack had even made her laugh a couple of times and that... was a little weird, but at the same time, it had seemed... okay.
"So what was the problem with your landlord?"
He had to say something.
"Well." Jack cleared his throat. "It's kind of a long story, very boring, really, but he's telling me I have to go."
"You're being evicted?" Sharon sounded unhappy.
"Well..."
"Can't you take him to court or something?" Rusty asked. He and his mom had done that, a couple of times.
"I'd have to hire a lawyer, and you know how it is, expenses and delays and it's just easier for everyone if I find a new place."
"Dude, aren't you a lawyer?" He was pretty sure it wasn't that complicated, anyway. His mom had never needed a lawyer. His mom had never won, either.
He thought he saw Sharon hide a smile.
"Er—well—tenant-landlord disputes can be very—never mind all that, young man," Jack said. "So tell me, is Kris still around?"
Rusty froze.
Beside him, Sharon's head came up.
"Uh," he said. "No. Not really. We don't... no."
Where the hell was their dinner?
"So you two—"
"That's enough, Jack," Sharon said sharply.
"You can't blame a guy for asking," he defended himself. "I'm just surprised. You two seemed pretty close to me."
"Not anymore," Rusty said stiffly. It wasn't like he cared what Jack thought of him, but... but... Anyway, that was none of his business.
"I think I'm going to call and check on our delivery," Sharon said, rising. The back of her hand brushed against his tense shoulder as she passed in quiet reassurance.
When Rusty finished off his second plate of sesame chicken, Sharon turned towards him and pointedly raised her eyebrow. He rolled his eyes at her, clearly protesting the reminder because, as he had made clear, she had told him a hundred times, and he had sworn that he understood.
She could have strangled him when he took third helpings of everything.
Sharon took a deep breath, and reached forward to spoon some more chicken onto her own plate. No, that was all right. She didn't want to send him to his room hungry because the nature of the conversation that she was about to have with Jack was such that the last thing she wanted was for Rusty to interrupt them halfway through because he was hungry for leftovers.
When Rusty appeared to be considering fourths, though, she stood and began removing the takeout containers to the kitchen because enough was enough and no one was in any danger of starving. Rusty caught on a moment later and stood to help her; Jack followed suit, and the table was quickly cleared.
"Well..." Rusty dumped the last of the silverware into the dishwasher and straightened up, shifting awkwardly on the balls on his feet. "I... have a thing to do, and I guess you two wanna talk or something..."
The worst part was, he looked proud of his subtlety. She couldn't resist touching his shoulder as he passed her on his way out of the kitchen, shaking her head as she watched him go.
"Coffee?" she offered.
"If you're having some," Jack said. He paused. "Listen, Sharon—"
That was how it always started. Listen, Sharon, there's something we need to talk about. She could probably recite the entire script by now.
She drew in a deep breath and willed herself to remain calm as she went to the coffee pot. "How are things, Jack?"
"Good," he said. "Life is good. Work is good."
"Mmm."
She brought the pot to the sink, watching it as it filled. She knew how this worked; they'd done this dance a thousand times. Each time, she grew tireder of the steps.
"It's been nice, being back in LA," he went on, following her with his eyes as she started the coffee. "I'm just in a bit of a tight spot at the moment, what with losing the apartment and all. I got most of my stuff in storage while I look for a new place."
Sharon made another noncommittal sound and leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. Jack's eyes lingered on her then, his gaze turning soft. "You look good, Sharon."
Five years ago, that might have worked. Five years ago, it had worked. Sharon tried not to sigh as she unfolded her arms. "What happened with the apartment, Jack?"
"I was trying to help out a friend," he said, and shrugged. "But then he overstayed his welcome and I loaned him a little too much—it's kind of a funny story, actually, you might laugh..."
"I'll take your word for it," she said. "I'm just thinking how it's doubly fortunate you could make it up to Portland, then, what with things being so tight for you."
There was a long pause. "Portland?"
"So you weren't in Portland, visiting Ricky?"
"Oh," he said. "No, I—I was there. I figured I had a little time saved up, you know, and it's a nice drive, so I took a little trip. Ricky's really grown. I have to tell you, I almost didn't recognize him."
"Maybe because he was eighteen the last time that you saw him."
"Don't start, Sharon. I'm making an effort here."
She pressed her lips together and didn't respond. Behind her, the coffee still dripped into the pot.
"I can't figure you out," he complained. "Last time I saw you, it was all you could talk about. Talk to the kids, Jack. When was the last time you saw the kids, Jack? You were like a broken record. And now, what, you don't want me to see the kids?"
"I never—"
"It hasn't been easy for me, either, Sharon," he informed her. "It took months to get Ricky to really talk to me, and you know, I try to call Katie every now and then but she won't take my calls anymore."
Sharon turned to pour two mugs of coffee. She wasn't sure whether to be proud of them for being suspicious, or sad that they had to be. Jack was a terrible husband; she knew that and she'd made her peace with it a long time ago. But he could have still been a good father, if he'd cared enough to try—she'd always known better to expect child support checks from him every month when he could barely keep himself afloat financially, but how much would it have cost him to come to Ricky's third grade play or Katie's junior high graduation?
"Did you ask her for money too?"
"I didn't have the chance to ask her anything." Jack frowned at her. "And I don't know what you heard, but I never asked Ricky for anything, what kind of a guy do you take me for, Sharon? He offered to help his old man out—insisted, really."
Sharon set Jack's coffee in front of him, swallowing as she turned away. That was probably true. Why do something as simple and straightforward as asking when he could guilt his son into thinking it had been his own idea? "And you accepted."
"It was hardly my first choice, Sharon." His expression as he stared down into his coffee was forlorn. "But I didn't think I could come to you again, and my brother... James is on vacation in London with Becky and the kids. Lucky them, huh?"
He'd promised to take her to Europe once. She'd gone alone when Ricky had left for college, and spent two weeks in England and France.
"Well," she said coolly, leaning back against the counter and holding his gaze until he looked away. "The next time you're having difficulties, you come and work it out with me or with your brother, but you do not take more money from your children. Understand?"
"Aye, aye, Captain." Jack chuckled to himself.
Sharon felt a muscle in her jaw twitch, and said a quick, silent prayer for that promotions freeze to come to a quick end. If she heard that one more time...
She nursed her coffee, wishing that she'd made tea instead.
"Look." Jack's voice grew softer. "Sharon. There's something else... don't get all keyed up, all right, because it's not a big deal, really, but if you did want to talk about it..."
She could only imagine where this was heading, and it was nowhere that she wanted to be. She shifted her grip on her mug and took another small, careful sip to buy herself a moment. "What else is there?"
"To tell you the truth," he started, leaning towards her, resting his arms on the breakfast bar, "when you called and invited me over, I thought you might finally be ready to talk about how we left things between us last summer."
Oh, God.