"You Got Lucky" blared from the stereo as Jeff semi-consciously passed the turn for Britta's apartment. He was fighting the urge to blow off going to his Mom's Labor Day barbecue and spend time with her new fiance Mark and his children, and apparently it had become so strong that he drove right past North 6th Street. Maybe it was a sign, he thought. But he soon realized he'd be spending the afternoon ducking calls from Britta and his Mom and whoever else, so he'd better just get it over with. At least with Britta he'd have someone to talk to, and an excuse to leave early. She answered the door holding a coffee cup and barefoot, but otherwise ready. Toddlers and Tiaras was on the television, and she sat on the couch to watch as she put on her socks and boots. "Two...five minutes," she told him.
"You hate this," he reminded her, as he sat next to her to watch. "Didn't you yell at me for watching this last year?"
She briefly glared at him before turning back to the TV. "They gave one of these kids her own show. Seriously! The one with the Mountain Dew go-go juice. Honey Boo Boo. It's just wrong. This is how you become successful in America now. Exploit your children, have zero principles, train girls that they need to have no skills except how to shake it and wear too much makeup, and the cycle of patriarchy remains unbroken."
"And you'll totally watch it."
"No way. I'm drawing a line. It's too depressing," she swore. Jeff found the remote and mimed turning the television off. She sighed. "Until the commercial. There's this kindergartener who still has a pacifier and she freaks out when they take it away from her...it's messed up." He smiled and put the remote down.
They were almost to Doreen's house when Britta asked Jeff if he'd brought anything for the party. "Am I supposed to?" he asked.
"Yeah, you are. Right? That's how these things work, I assume. Like, cookies," she suggested.
"Cookies? Like, bake cookies?" He was skeptical.
"Wine, I don't know. It's your Mom." She pouted.
"Yeah, I guess, I didn't think about it. She didn't tell me to. Anyway, we're almost there."
"Which one?" she asked, referring to the houses on the tree-lined street.
"The white one with the cars in the driveway. Geez, there are a lot of people here. Why are there so many people here?" he wondered, concerned.
"The one with the 'Sold' sign on the lawn? Jeff, did you know your Mom was selling her house?"
Jeff found a parking spot on the street in front of the house and contemplated what to tell her. "Yeah, but she didn't tell me she actually sold it already. That was fast. I thought I had more time."
"What were you going to do?" Britta looked through her bag for a hair tie and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
He removed his seatbelt and turned to her. "She's selling her biggest- her only- real asset? She's marrying this guy she barely knows-"
Britta cut him off, "Jeff, you're starting to sound a little…" He glared at her and she dialed it back. "...worked up."
"Why sell her house? She can at least rent it out? What's her fall back plan? This guy turns out to be a dirtbag and she just retired, she has to go back to work? She's an...older...woman, Britta….she needs to look out for herself."
Britta grabbed his hand, "You just have to trust people sometimes. And if she's taking a risk, then she thinks it's worth- ahhhh!" There was a heavy banging on the car window and an old woman pressed her face close to the glass. Jeff was equally startled, and pulled Britta towards him.
Jeff turned the car back on and rolled down the window. "Can I help you?"
The old woman pointed at him. "Doreen's son? Very nice car. Help me bring in my bag." Jeff nodded and rolled the window back up. Britta and Jeff both took a deep breath and laughed nervously.
"Whoa. Guess we have to go inside," Jeff whispered. He helped the woman, who turned out to be Mark's mother, bring in her bag, which turned out to contain a number of homemade pies. Even Jeff admitted it was heavy, and they looked good. She could give Shirley a run for her money in the baking department. Doreen greeted Jeff and Britta at the door and kissed them both on the cheek, announcing to everyone that her son Jeffy and his girlfriend were finally arrived. Jeff privately rolled his eyes to Britta, who sucked on her own lips in trying not to laugh, until she spied the puppy in the kitchen and lit up.
"Oh my god, Doreen, is that your new dog!" Britta effused. "What an adorable little puppy!" Jeff didn't even try to stop Britta from making a beeline for the kitchen, with the baby gate in place to keep it in its own little area.
"No, that's Jessica and her boyfriend's dog. Isn't he sweet? Our new dog's in the backyard. You want to pick him up? His name's James." The dog was a West Highland White Terrier, and he was just a few months old. Doreen handed Britta the puppy and Britta held him like a newborn against her chest and lit up.
"This is the cutest puppy I've ever seen! And it's like he only weighs two pounds." Jeff agreed; it was a really cute puppy, with fluffy white fur and soft little paw pads. He hesitantly petted a paw and the puppy lapped at his finger with a tiny tongue. Jessica and her boyfriend David climbed over the baby gate and introduced themselves. Britta offered to hand over James, who was starting to fall asleep, but they insisted she keep holding him.
"He was more than I wanted to spend," David admitted, "but he's really well behaved, and super cute." Jeff saw Britta flinch, and changed the subject.
"Can I help with anything?" he asked, drawing blanks on what else to discuss with these strangers.
"Sure," Jessica replied, brightly. "Want to chop these veggies?" She showed him what needed to be done to prep the crudites.
Jeff's Mom came in with a Mountain Dew for Jeff and a water for Britta. "I bought your favorite," she smiled, indicating the green soda. "There's grown-up drinks outside. And look what I made for dessert." She opened the fridge and pulled out a pie dish. She uncovered the foil and proudly announced, "chocolate peanut butter pie with Oreo crust. Mark was eyeing it all morning, but I told him you get the first piece."
"Aww, thanks Mom." Jeff went to hug her.
"I'm going to go check on the grill. Come outside when you're done. And before you leave, there's some boxes in your old room I want you to look at...let me know if you want to take them with you or if I can give them away. And I can get to know Britta better." She winked at Britta and left, with Jessica and David close behind, carrying chips.
"Don't judge me," Jeff asked, looking out the kitchen window to make sure the coast was clear before dumping the Mountain Dew down the drain. Britta shook her head. "I haven't liked this since I was 13. I guess it's...nice of her." Britta put the dog down to wash her hands and help him wash veggies. "I'd totally eat that pie though." He thought about sneaking a bite now. His Mom couldn't get mad, right? He was in his 30s, what could happen?
"This is kinda fun. Classic American Labor Day barbecue," Britta mused.
"It's weird though, right? We never did this when I was a kid. She never, okay, rarely, made me chocolate peanut butter pie."
"What's in your room? You still have stuff there?" Britta asked.
"I have no idea. I moved out when I was 18; stuff I left behind? Don't you have stuff in your old room?"
She shrugged. "Not really. I'll never see it again if I did. Probably just old drawings and schoolwork and stuff."
"Toys, pictures?" he added, absentmindedly.
Britta sighed. "Yeah, I don't have a lot of pictures."
"Sorry! I didn't realize. I don't either, if that means anything. It's probably old clothes I"ll never wear."
"Let's see?" she suggested, putting the knife in the sink. "Which way?"
He led her up the stairs to his small blue bedroom. He was startled to see that a lot of the house was empty already, including the walls. It was no different in his childhood room, with just a few full cardboard boxes in the middle of the dark blue carpet. Jeff knelt in front of the one closest to him but Britta dug in first. "Ooh- my brother had one of these! The Little Professor! You should totally keep this. It's awesome." It was a little calculator game for children with a professor face on it, and pretty adorable. They couldn't get it to turn on, but Britta insisted they take it anyway and figure out the battery situation later. Most of the rest of the items in the box were toy cars, baseball cards, children's records and little knick-knacks (a souvenir "JEFFREY" license plate from California), but Britta noticed Jeff put a Han Solo action figure and some GI Joes to the side. He noticed her looking at them.
"These are vintage. You can't throw these out," he explained. He looked around the room. He hadn't been in the house in years, but it was just hitting him that in all likelihood he'd never be in the house again. Britta knelt beside him and started massaging his shoulders. It was a strange petting motion. "I'm okay, Britta. You can stop that. Whatever it is you're doing." She dug in harder for a second and made those chopping motions that masseuses do to finish a massage, as if to make a point.
They only stayed for a couple of hours, but they almost enjoyed themselves. Mark's large family was very nice, and it wasn't the formal getting to know you affair that Jeff had dreaded. Instead, everyone was behaving as if they were the Brady Bunch, sharing duties like filling one another's plates and glasses, walking the dogs and taking the garbage out, and acted genuinely disappointed when Jeff and Britta had to leave so Britta could go to work. They didn't make it to dessert, so Doreen wrapped up the pie and insisted Jeff take it with them, walking them to the foyer.
"Did you go through those boxes?" Doreen asked.
"Yeah, I kept a couple things."
"Like what?" she asked.
"Like...some GI Joes, Star Wars stuff...why?"
"Oh, I was going to give it to the little boy next door," Doreen said.
"I have a friend who's really into vintage action figures," Jeff half-lied. "Listen, can I talk to you for a sec. You need to rethink selling this house."
"I had no idea you were so attached to it. You barely visit. You moved out as soon as you could." She wasn't being mean, but it was the truth.
"I'm thinking about you. I care about you. I know what you went through with my Dad, and I don't want to see you have to go through that again, working like crazy with no safety net, because someone took advantage of you. Keep the house. Don't live in it, but rent it out, have some security."
"Jeff, Mark is nothing like your father. Believe me, they're polar opposites."
"Do you know he's living here? In Colorado? You said he disappeared, but I found him. He's less than an hour away. Classic liar, totally untrustworthy, dirtbag. Doesn't that piss you off?"
She looked shocked for a moment, then her face went back to normal. "No. Jeff, if I was still upset about your father 30 years later, I'd be worried about me, too. But I moved on a long, long time ago. And the house closes next week." She kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Jeffy. You're my good boy. Have a good week back at school. Don't waste time worrying about this. Focus on your girlfriend. You're going to be a good husband someday." She waved goodbye to Britta, now in the passenger seat with the pie on her lap, and shut the front door.
Somehow Jeff talked Britta into dropping by his apartment after her shift. She was glad he asked. They had spent hours together, but Britta knew she'd be thinking about him during her shift. She had started to think about Jeff a lot. Almost all the time. And in the mornings when it was just her at her apartment, she'd remember Jeff pressed up against her back in bed, or his arm slung around her waist with his breath on her neck, and it made it hard to wake up. She missed him; she had even in the last week uncharacteristically started to turn on the television at home for background noise. Britta rationalized that this was temporary, so she allowed herself these feelings. The first few weeks are always like this, she thought, even though this wasn't even really a relationship, and they'd been together well over a month. When she got out of work, it was almost 2:30 in the morning when she knocked on his door. He was already in sleep clothes (his boxers and soft-wash cotton t-shirt) and it looked like he'd been sleeping at some point during the night. Still, he was glad she came and he grabbed her as soon as he opened the door and wrapped her into a deep kiss. "How was work?" he asked.
"Meh. Good tips." She made a face,"I'm tired." She tossed her bag on the couch and went to grab a water from the fridge. "Were you sleeping?"
"On and off. Come to bed?"
"Be right there." She changed into the t-shirt she brought and brushed her teeth before climbing into bed with Jeff. They lay next to each other in the dark. "There's pie in your fridge," she reminded him.
"Hungry?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I realized tonight I just spent almost two months' rent on one statistics class. I'm gonna have to take an extra year at Greendale like Shirley and everyone else; this job's too many hours to do this and all my classes and try to apply for graduate programs."
"Why don't you cut back your hours a bit?" Jeff wondered.
"I thought about it. It's too good a gig. I hate myself for it a little. I started at Greendale so I wouldn't be a bartender my whole life; because I couldn't imagine being 50 years old and serving $2 PBRs. And now suddenly it feels like a safe option. I'm constantly going to be trying to catch up to everyone else. First I needed a bachelor's degree, which I don't even have yet, and now everyone's saying you need to have a Master's to get a job, or people are building their own app or starting their own business...everything in my body is telling me to drop this stat class, but I would feel like such a failure."
Jeff reached for her hand and lightly ran his thumb over her knuckles. "You got an A on the first extra class you tried to take, a class a real sober psych professor taught, while you started this new job. That's amazing. I got a B and I was basically cheating."
"I don't know if it counts. I didn't have my other classes…"
"It totally counts. And I…" he was about to make a joke about how even he passed Statistics, and that was before he started sleeping with the professor, but caught himself just in time. That would have definitely not ended well. "...I think you're too hard on yourself. But go with your gut. I wouldn't mind having you around Greendale awhile longer, actually." She was quiet. "Everyone goes through this, Britta. And at this point, everyone expects you to be a psychologist, so no one's going to let you not see it through."
"Ugh. I hate that I can go from feeling so good to so bad so fast. I guess I'm nervous; it seems like a big year. I don't know why. Nothing's really changing." She moved over a bit and settled on her side with her head on Jeff's chest, his arm wrapped around her. She yawned. "Your family's nice."
"That just sounds weird- it's just my Mom. It was like visiting someone else's family. Like we were watching someone else's family do family stuff. Isn't that weird- Jessica's Annie's age, but she seems so much younger."
"I guess. When's your Mom moving?"
"I don't know, couple weeks? She didn't care at all."
Britta looked up at him. "About what?"
Jeff realized what he said. "I talked to her about holding on to the house, and she didn't want to hear it. She said Mark's nothing like my father. And I reminded her what a lying piece of garbage my father was...is...and told her I found him, and he'd lied to her again. He probably owes her tens of thousands in alimony. They could never find him; he had visitation rights and he never came to visit and they told me it was because he'd shoved off and disappeared. You know where he is? Fucking Boulder, Colorado. And she doesn't care. At all."
"Jeff, you found your father?" Britta stayed with her head on Jeff's chest, but brought her arm around him, hugging him a little closer. He held her back, but she could feel him tense up.
"I found where he is. I haven't done anything about it. I can't believe she didn't care. He was such a dick to her. I was a little kid, and I still remember that, that should tell you something."
"How long have you known?" she gently pressed him.
"A couple weeks. A month. A couple months," he admitted.
"And you didn't call him?"
"I don't have anything to say to him. Especially now. Apparently that my Mom thinks it's not a big deal. So I guess that was kind-of pointless."
"Jeff, you have to call him. Or write to him. Let him know how you're feeling, even if it's just to let him know you think he's a dick. Psychology tells us that we can't bottle our emotions; they just come out in other ways," she implored him.
He rolled his eyes, even though he knew she probably couldn't see in the relative dark of the bedroom. "Britta, I know what's gonna come out of it. He decided 30 years ago he didn't want to be a Dad and clearly he's had the chance to find me, so why mess with that?" He tried to make it sound cut and dry, but it felt awful saying it out loud.
"You're different than your Mom. She knew your Dad, you couldn't have, you were a little kid. You didn't have any choices when they got divorced. Anyone would be upset to have someone treat them like that. And he's missing out. You're a great guy. Look how many people look up to you and care about you. If you want to talk to your Dad, you have nothing to worry about confronting him the way you might have when you were 8. You're literally so much bigger now," she smiled and squeezed his bicep for emphasis. "I know you don't want to be like Pierce and never have an honest conversation with your father, because if he dies before you get to talk to him, I bet that will feel worse. And I know you probably feel pretty bad right now."
"He's got another son."
"You have a brother. A real brother, not a step brother?"
"I guess. William Winger, Jr. There's no way he's not. Same address. 26 years old. So, he wasn't gone for long before that happened." Jeff was extra bitter about that. It was one thing for his father to have another child, but everything he was finding out on google was adding insult to injury.
"And he doesn't know about you either? He'd probably like to know he has a brother," Britta offered.
"I'm not saying your wrong…" Jeff started.
"You can say I'm right, it won't kill you."
"You're not totally wrong; I just don't think it's the right time." He suddenly didn't want to talk about it anymore. There was a thumping on the ceiling.
"What was that?" Britta asked.
"New neighbors. There's kids upstairs now, and they're nuts. What time is it? They run around all the time. I've got to move."
"Are you serious?" She couldn't see moving from a pretty nice apartment because of a couple of ceiling thumps she'd probably sleep through.
"My lease is up in October. I'm ready for something different. And yeah, there are a lot of kids in this building now. There are screamers down the hall. It sucks."
"You should get a puppy."
"What? What are you talking about? Are you sleep talking?" he chided her.
"You liked it. I saw you tickling that dog when your Mom was asking me about my hobbies. You were happy; you have a soft spot for puppies. You should get one."
"I still can't tell if you're kidding, but that's the last thing I need right now with a new job. That was a cute dog though. Totally a girls' dog, but cute," he asserted.
"What's a girls' dog?" she asked, annoyed.
"Anything under, like, 30 lbs. Fluffy, girl dogs."
"I can't believe you're being sexist about pets right now."
"It's not sexist, I would just get a dog I can't carry in a purse. We're not fighting about an imaginary dog at 3 in the morning." He kissed the top of her head, in semi-apology. She yawned again.
"I'm actually," she spoke through more yawns, "a little hungry." Britta slipped her hand under his t-shirt and made circles over his belly. They got out of bed and settled on the couch, eating chocolate peanut butter pie from the pie tin and talking about nothing until they fell asleep.