A/N: The middle of this chapter has been sitting on my hard-drive for well over a year, waiting for a beginning and an end. Thanks to lost0and0found for motivating me with her wonderful reviews to continue writing this. I hope that I haven't lost my original readers entirely by my prolonged absence. Here's a shout-out along with profound thanks to any of you who have been with me all along, and a "Welcome! Hope you find much in this story to enjoy," to any of you who have just read this story for the first time. I would love to hear what you think so far.
And, on to the chapter…
Chapter 7: So Much for Stand-Up Comedy
It started when they were cleaning out the closet. It was too small a space for the belongings Liz had finally gotten around to sending, but it would help to lessen the chaos slightly. Or, at least it would have if doing so didn't mean displacing the contents of the closet. Most of the things had been there since Luke moved in eight years previously, and there was no good place to put them.
Jess stood there, shoulders slumped in a tired sigh that bordered on the beginning of a headache. Luke kept trying to find a place for every single item they took out of the closet, mostly unsuccessfully, making what Jess had thought would be a fifteen minute project stretch into a third hour.
He bit his lower lip and looked at his uncle with raised eyebrows. Before it formed actual words Jess' tongue lodged itself briefly in his cheek and the eyebrows furrowed into a frown. "Why do you have bongo drums?"
Luke held said bongo drums, searching for a suitable stashing place. He paused to address his nephew. "They were your mom's. She was in a…musical phase."
Jess nodded slowly with a look of not exactly humoring somebody who'd lost his marbles. "And you still have them because…?"
"I dunno. I just do," Luke said, his tone absent as he continued his quest for a few inches of shelf space.
"Do you ever throw anything away?"
Luke dropped his nephew a look. "Three bedroom house, plus a cabin, to this. Yes, I threw things away."
"But not the bongo drums…" The teenager wore a reproving look.
Luke shrugged and walked past Jess, shifting trophies and sports gear, etc. on an upper shelf. "They're not mine. I was gonna give them back to her, but…"
"But they were stuck somewhere in a closet."
"Yeah."
Jess continued to nod, even though Luke's back was toward him as he finally got things arranged to the point that the bongos would fit. "Let me know if you actually want me to do something," Jess said in a lackadaisical tone.
"You can keep…" Luke shrugged, "pullin' stuff out, and I'll figure out where to put it."
"O-kay…" Jess turned toward the closet, rifling through until he found a largish object so it would seem as if he were actually accomplishing something. "You play the guitar?" he questioned, wondering doubly that the instrument wasn't in any kind of case.
Luke reached for it. "It was my dad's."
Jess nodded again, turning back to the closet. He knew better than to question anything that had belonged to his grandfather, though that was mostly what filled the apartment.
Next, Jess pulled out a box, and out of it, a rectangular leather pouch with a shoulder strap.
"I've been looking for those!" Luke exclaimed reaching for the bag before Jess had it completely out of the box. He unzipped it and pulled out an antique pair of binoculars. "My dad bought these for hunting." He adjusted the knobs while he spoke, swiveling to look through them out the window. His voice took on a faraway quality, almost an echo of itself. "But they were the greatest for camping in a clearing under the stars. I meant to bring them when…" he looked back at Jess and trailed off, seeing him squinting at a piece of large unrolled heavy paper.
After only a couple of frowning seconds Jess began to read the printed words aloud, slowly and distinctly:
HOUSE RULES
#1 - No hurting or endangering yourself or anyone else.
#2 - No illegal activities like stealing, vandelism, underage drinking, etc.
#3 - No cigarettes, drugs or weopons.
#4 - No running off without permission.
#5 - No lying.
#6 - No swearing.
#7 - No skipping school or home work and no cheating.
#8 - No staying out past dark.
#9 - No damaging other people's property or borrowing it without their permission.
#10 - No tatoos, piercings, weird haircuts or hair dying or anything like that.
#11 - No deliberate disobeying or acting rebellious/screaming.
#12 - No going with people you don't know.
#13 - No taking off your clothes in public.
When he was finished, he turned toward Luke, the same puzzled scowl on his face and his tone serious, though his words were as flippant as his speech always tended to be.
"So, was this supposed to go next to the NO CELLPHONES sign? I mean, even that seems a little dictatorial. Usually as far as eating establishments tends to go is No Smoking or No shoes, no shirt - no service. I mean, of course, there's always the catch-all We Have the Right to Refuse Service to Anyone, but with those you're practically asking for discrimination lawsuits to come pouring in. But this…" He held the list at arm's length. "I don't even know how you'd apply this to-"
"It was for you."
It was one of those things where words hung in the air… like they were somehow louder and more resonant because the sentiment was hung with a lead weight. The strange part? He knew. The second he unrolled the paper and saw Luke's black-markered print on the yellowed paper…he knew. Because…who else?
But, he'd never seen it before. Luke hadn't showed it to him. What good was it supposed to do when…? It didn't make sense. It didn't fit. Yellowed paper. Box. Closet. = Old. It was from when he was a kid, but…
Luke seemed frozen and Jess let a long sigh out, trying to put it together, but with the pieces unfitting he found words tumbling out of his mouth. Not questions. He couldn't do questions. So instead it was almost ridicule. Not bitter, but probing. Probing as nobody else would do it. Sooner or later, Luke would have to stop him, and when he did, it would be with answers… maybe.
He started off with spelling, and went from there.
"So, my hair has to be immortal. If it dies, I'm in trouble. And this one…this one is interesting. I mean, what qualifies as clothes? Does that mean that I can't scandalously remove my shoes? School showers are definitely out. Swimming would mean getting soaked and water-logged, but I guess I should be used to that after my dip in Anderson's Pond. Just wondering, if it's reeeally hot, can I take off my shirt, or is that a no-go?"
Luke had dropped him a dead-pan glare somewhere during the middle of the last few sentences. "I could have said 'No streaking, flashing, mooning or skinny-dipping,' but then I might have had to explain those concepts to an 8-year-old. I thought this way was better."
An 8-year old. So there's timeframe. There's who and when. The rest of the storyboard thought-mapping questions might pop out if he kept going.
"So," Jess surmised, "you thought I wouldn't know what the words meant, but that I might secretly be an 8-year-old exhibitionist."
Luke opened his mouth and closed it again with a shake of the head, eyes turning heavenward.
Jess extended an index finger toward #11. "I guess that one means no Indian war cries while I turn up the collar of my leather jacket and ride with my motorcycle gang, just like you told me not to." Jess raised his eyes, and even as the rest of his face was like cardboard, one corner of his mouth quirked upward. Luke let out a long-suffering sigh, his shoulders and his expression sagging.
"Jess…" Luke's tone and expression were pained. "I first made this list…" he paused looking at the floor, "so I wouldn't let you down again."
Jess' eyebrows shot up as he did a mental double-take. So you didn't WHAT? What on earth would make Luke think that he'd let him down back then? Back when he was eight? Later on, when they lost touch and Liz screwed up everything they thought they knew about each other, sure, Luke could have thought maybe he'd let him down then, but…
His expression clearly clued Luke in that Jess didn't know what he was referring to. "When I caught you smoking, you didn't even know what you were being punished for. That was…dumb-stupid of me not to teach you things like that - to figure Liz would've taught you. I should've known better. I should've known Liz!" Luke shook his head and Jess could see in his face that this had gnawed at him for all the intervening years. "But, instead, I smacked first and asked questions later. I screwed the whole thing up and you paid the price."
The words blew Jess away. His days with Luke as a kid were idyllic…the best part of anything outside of a book that he'd ever known. Camping and fishing and helping Luke work on his truck…baking cookies…just…being there…watching him…doing whatever he was doing…existing in the same space…knowing he was in the next room…getting to be a kid…just a kid. And Luke thought he messed up? Luke?
The thing with the cigarette - that had been one day! He remembered the day. He remembered it happening. But, that was really only because, schmaltzy as it might sound, that was the first time in his life he knew without a doubt that somebody cared about him…loved him even. If Luke hadn't brought up the perceived injustice, he would never have given it another thought. It was no big deal. But that was what stuck in Luke's mind. He thought he messed up…big time. Wow.
"This," Luke continued, batting at the corner of the list spread out in front of them, "was my way of making sure that never happened again. Making sure you knew what to expect and what was expected of you. Making sure you never looked at me again the way you did that day."
Jess nodded slowly, looking at the poster board in an entirely new light. It was another way Luke had showed he cared. But, it was also Luke's guilt in concrete form. Guilt over a simple misunderstanding, and he still carried it with him after all these years! It was stupid…and kind of terrible. Jess pondered briefly as his eyes roamed over Luke's clumsy block letters. He didn't want to say flat-out that it was stupid. Sweet, but stupid. Not so much the list, but the guilt. But, he wished there was some way Luke would get that beating himself up over something like that was…ridiculous and unnecessary. The list was a nice thought, but it wasn't like he'd been dumb enough not to understand his uncle had his best interests at heart and had tried to teach him the best he knew how.
Jess began tapping the cardboard with his forefinger just where it read: "#2 - No illegal activities like stealing, vandalism, underage drinking, etc."
"Y'know, it occurs to me, I got into some pretty serious trouble the visit after that for breaking thisone…without the benefit of the LIST!" he intoned with grave, mocking sarcasm, his eyes wide, nodding to underscore the sacred list and its ponderous, complex rules.
"Stealing is wrong," Luke deadpanned. Jess nodded with a mock-serious expression.
"Kinda got that," he quipped. "The frat paddle made that point abundantly clear!" He gave a smirking wince and put a hand to the seat of his pants as if to rub out the memory of a fire. He knew how to put Luke on the defensive.
"It was not a frat-"
"Whatever! Your reprimand made quite an impression!" Jess quoted, though he knew his uncle would never get it. He continued to scan the list. His mocking tone continued as he played this one to the hilt. "Come to think of it, you broke the #1 rule with that one!" he pointed, reciting, "No hurting or endangering yourself or anyone else. 'Cause, believe me-that hurt! SO, it seems to me that by paddling me, you earned a paddling…which does present something of a conundrum. After all, who would give it to you? And after that, wouldn't somebody have to paddle them? And so forth? Oh, wait, no! They wouldn't be subject to the rules of the house if they don't live in this house. Who would be the best candidate?" he mused with an evil smirk. "Taylor! Of course! Who would perform the duty with more relish? I mean, seriously!"
"Jess-" Luke warned.
"Then again, I'm sure Kirk would be willing! But, only if I paid him, and with his upper body strength, or lack thereof, it prob'ly wouldn't be worth it. Nope, Taylor's definitely our man! I should give him a call. I think I have his number around here. 'Cause you know that no matter how much time has passed it's important for justice to be served," he said, punctuating the words with taps to Luke's shoulder using the now rolled-up list, while trying his best to look and sound as stern as a judge.
"Jess!" The tone was sharper this time.
"You're no fun, you know that!" Jess shook his head, but his eyes twinkled in impish pleasure at the discomfited expression on his uncle's face.
"Jess, I'm sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you. I just-" he began, but Jess interrupted.
"You didn't, all right!" If Luke had been paying attention, he would have seen a look that was rare to catch on his nephew's face…a look that bore a strange resemblance to a smile. But, Luke wasn't paying attention.
"Jess-"
"Hey look, I mean, don't get me wrong, I did get a little sore, but…" He shrugged and stood blinking, waiting for Luke to get the joke and crack a smile. He just glared. Jess tried again, slower, and with a rolling come on! wave of the hand, "I…did…get…a little-" he dropped his head, exhaling. He tilted his head and, squinting, looked Luke in the eye. "So much for my stand-up routine."
Luke leaned forward with that same serious, guilt-ridden look that he'd worn when he explained the origin of the list…maybe more so. Jess groaned inwardly. The man simply wouldn't be budged. He'd tried to alleviate his guilt by showing him how ridiculous it was. Maybe not the best tack. But if sarcasm didn't work, what could he do? Would he have to resort to honesty? More serious physical threats?
"Jess, you can try to laugh it off all you want, but I never should've-" Jess cut him off determinedly.
"Don't you DARE feel guilty about what you did for me back then!" Luke's eyes widened. Jess had never spoken up with that kind of candor in his uncle's presence.
"What?"
"You didn't hurt me. I'm fine!" He had no intention of telling Luke that the physical pain he'd caused wasn't so much as a speck of dust on the scales in the grand scheme of things.
"What do you mean? You just told me that I hurt you so badly you wanted nothing more than for me to get a taste of my own medicine!" There were few times in life in which Jess resorted to an actual, literal face-palm. This was one of them.
"That's not what I-" Jess lifted his hands and let them slam back down to his thighs in pure frustration. "Look, you didn't put me on the straight and narrow," he said in hallowed tones, putting his hand to his heart, "and you didn't turn me into a cowering abused child." He used air quotes here, and mentally scoffed at Luke for thinking he could actually be traumatized by so little. -You have no idea, Luke. None.-
"You didn't exactly teach me any of life's great lessons," Jess continued, "but you showed me that I was at least worth putting over your knee and reddening your hand."
This last part seemed to shake Luke a bit. Truth be told, it was meant to.
"The stinkin' pathetic part is, that meant something to me. So, don't you DARE apologize!" After a look that bored into Luke's skull, Jess turned abruptly, grabbed a paperback from the dresser and shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans as he went out, slamming the apartment door.
Luke stood there dumbfounded.
When Jess came back later that evening, his uncle didn't say much - definitely didn't mention the previous conversation - but, sitting on the shelf by Jess' bed, just in front of Ivanhoe through For Esme - With Love and Squalor, was a scrolled up, yellowed-around-the-edges poster board. Jess bit the inside of the corner of his mouth, pondering the gesture with a raised eyebrow glance toward the spot where Luke sat on the couch. There were plenty of interesting ways for a person to apologize. But, Jess wondered if this was possibly the first time in recorded history anyone had managed a nonverbal retraction of an apology.
