Author's Notes: Skips ahead to the summer after high school graduation, sometime in June 1960. Series will continue to track the relationship until present.
Feedback: Diamonds in the Rough.
"Jed!"
I don't move. I pretend I'm still asleep, hoping Mom will feel sorry for me since I've only been asleep for an hour and a half. Finals are this week. The final finals. Graduation is this weekend. I can hardly believe it. I got home last night around seven, and went straight to my room to study for my Latin final, which is in three hours.
"Jed!" Mom is in my room now, and she's flipped on the lamp next to my bed. "Josiah, I know you're tired. I know you had a big weekend and I know you were up all night studying, but if you don't go do your chores your father will hold your diploma."
Mom's just joking, but I really wouldn't put it past Dad at this point. After the fights we've been having lately, he's beyond ready to be rid of me. You can cut the tension in this house with a knife.
I sit up slowly and pull the blankets around my legs.
"So, how's Leo? You were so hot to study last night you didn't even tell me how graduation went, sweetheart!" Mom's picking up the papers that are scattered all over the room. I've been translating Ovid for six months and I'm almost done with Metamorphosis. I also practiced verb conjugations for about forty-five of those scattered pages.
"He's great, Mom. His mom is doing a lot better, and Josie and Liz have grown up like you wouldn't believe. His speech was amazing. I'm thinking about stealing some of his ideas," I yawn, waiting for Mom to leave so I can put some pants on.
"I thought you had to submit your speech for approval last week," Mom says.
"I did, but you know me. I like to speak extemporaneously," I smile.
"You're just going to go out of your way to stick it to your father, aren't you, Jed?"
"Yes, ma'am," I smile.
"Well, get going on your chores. I'll have breakfast for you when you're done."
It's another amazing morning on this farm. Having Mom wake me up in the morning and then coming out here for milk and my first cigarette are the only things I'll miss about this place come fall. It's gonna be so weird not having Mom around all the time.
I still can't believe I'm finally graduating. I also can't believe that Leo can't come this weekend. We've had the summer planned for months, and at the last minute his scholarship interview for Michigan got changed. It's okay though. I think he was more upset about it than I was. His sisters made fun of us all weekend. Josie said we might as well be dating, as emotional as we are when we get to see each other.
I told Leo this weekend I've decided to study for priesthood at Notre Dame. He was pretty surprised. I'd been planning on economics for the past couple years, but after spending all year teaching a CCD class and interning at church, I think this is really what I want to do.
Leo asked me if I was that sure that I was never gonna get laid. I didn't even have a date to my own prom. I'm pretty sure that if I were supposed to meet the person I'm going to marry, I would have met her by now. Leo dates all the time, and rarely dates the same girl more than once or twice. Leo also said he doesn't know many priests that smoke half a pack of Marlboros a day. I'll cut back.
I finish milking Eleanor, the cow my mom named after herself, finish my cigarette, and trudge back up to the house, reciting verb endings for the pluperfect tense as I go. Mom has my typical breakfast on the table, and I eat quickly. She kisses my cheek and wishes me luck on my final, and I grab my books and keys and am out the front door before my father has come downstairs.
I drive down the dirt road pretty slowly, enjoying the morning. I've become a lot more sentimental about nature and stuff lately. I think it's because I know I'm not coming back here again for a very long time after August. Mom knows that, too. She knows that until Dad is gone, I won't be able to rest easy in the house. I know I'm breaking her heart. But this is what I have to do. I'll stay at Notre Dame all year and probably go to Chicago with Leo for the holidays. But she doesn't complain. She just smiles at me and nods. God bless her.
I don't know why the hell I stayed up all night studying for Latin. The final was so stupid. Just some translation and Roman history. My teacher congratulated me as I turned my test in. He also handed me a slip of paper. He suggested I include the quote in my valedictorian speech.
Illegitimi non carborundum.
Don't let the bastards take you down.
I'm sure Dad would just love that one. I smile at my teacher and then exit the room, before all of my classmates. They all hate me anyway, so it's just that much better I guess.
I drive into town and buy lunch for Mrs. Landingham and myself. I drive back to school and eat with her in the Ladies' Faculty Lounge. I've become almost a novelty in the room since Mrs. Landingham took over last year. This is another one of those things that drives my father crazy. I ask her if she's afraid for her job because of our friendship. She shrugs it off and changes the subject. She'll be the other thing I miss when I ship off to South Bend in the fall. Mrs. Landingham has really become like the big sister I never had.
She asks how Leo is doing and how graduation went. I tell her all about his valedictorian speech and how much better his Mom is doing. She says she's so excited to see him again, and I have to tell her he can't come to graduation. She's disappointed, probably mostly for me.
It's Saturday now, and I'm in my room getting ready for our non-denominational baccalaureate service, which will be followed immediately by commencement. Baccalaureate is the only event of the day that I'm not allowed to speak at. Dad's too afraid I'll go Catholic on him and offend my classmates. They've offended me for four years, wouldn't you think I'd get a little revenge? Nope. Not this time, Jed.
"Josiah!" Mom calls from downstairs. I can see Jonathan out my window, shooting baskets on the hoop hung on the side of one of the barns. Mom made him come home from Rutgers for the weekend. I'm sure he wouldn't have bothered otherwise.
"Yes, ma'am," I shout, still tying my uniform tie for the very last time. After today, I'll never have to wear this thing again.
"We have a surprise for you downstairs, sweetheart," Mom calls back. She sounds really excited.
"Mom, I can see Jonathan out the window. And I heard you talking to him last night on the phone. No surprise there," I call, scooping up my cap and gown and the copy of my speech.
"Jed, your brother was not the surprise. The surprise is downstairs. I think you really ought to hurry down!"
I don't know what it could possibly be. I'd begged my parents all spring to let me get another dog after our Labrador retriever died. But it's a little late now to be buying me a dog, unless they expect me to be able to keep it in the dorm.
I bound down the stairs and see an extremely familiar suitcase sitting in the foyer. I don't even have to get to the kitchen.
"Leo!" I shout, and break into a run. He's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, wearing his lopsided grin.
"Hello, Mr. Valedictorian," he says, standing up. I wrap my arms around his shoulders like I haven't seen him in a year.
"What happened? Did they cancel your interview?"
"No. It was yesterday, so I drove all night. I wouldn't miss this, Jed," he smiles, and sits back down. "I bet Delores was going to be pissed at me for not coming."
"Leopold, watch your language," my mother chides, trying not to laugh. Mom absolutely adores Leo. She has from the first time he set foot in the house two summers ago.
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bartlet," he smiles, and then looks back at me. "Ready for your speech? I'm sure all your classmates are bringing pillows and blankets."
"Shut up," I say, pouring myself a cup of coffee and sitting next to him at the table. "Did you really drive all the way from Michigan?"
"Yes," he says. "And if I weren't so angry at myself for blowing my interview I probably would have fallen asleep and run off the road."
"Oh, get real. You don't blow interviews," I say.
"Well, interviews are important. Michigan isn't throwing money at me," Leo says, rather condescendingly.
"Notre Dame is not throwing money at me, jackass," I reply. "You'll probably wind up with more scholarship money than me anyway."
"Language, Jed," my mother mutters and swats my shoulder on her way out of the kitchen. I wait for her to get out of earshot before continuing my conversation.
"So, how long are you staying?"
"As long as I can, I guess. I know your dad doesn't -" I cut Leo off.
"I don't care about my dad, Leo. Maybe we can get jobs together this summer or something," I say.
"You don't need a job, Jed. You should spend your summer relaxing and trying to get laid," he smirks.
"Well, I'm definitely not gonna get laid in Manchester, New Hampshire. We should go try to get messenger jobs at a Kennedy office," I smile. "You know you want to. We could go to Boston, Leo. A whole summer in Boston, just you, me, and Jack."
"Jack isn't going to be in Boston," Leo rolls his eyes at me. "But your idea is intriguing. He's gonna win, Jed. He has to."
"No kidding. I think if Nixon wins I'll defect," I smile.
"You're full of it," he laughs. "A whole summer in Boston, though. I'm sure you'd drag me to Red Sox games."
"Yes, Leo. Baseball. Beer. Girls. Well, girls for you anyway. I don't know what the big attraction is," I sigh. "You're short, you wear your hair like you're ready to ship out any day, and you're an incredibly dull conversationalist."
"First of all, you're short too. Second of all, anyone is an incredibly dull conversationalist when they're in the conversation with you, Jed. You know why? Because you barely pause for air."
"If you'll excuse me, I have a moving graduation speech to deliver," I say, standing up. Leo stands up too, takes our coffee mugs and puts them in the sink, and follows me out of the kitchen.
"It's gonna be a big crowd. Ya nervous?"
"Not really," I smirk.
"It's your kind of crowd," he says, and we head out the front door toward my beat-up Ford.
*************************************************
I keep replaying his speech over and over in my mind. It amazes me how well he speaks. I don't think he looked down at his draft even once. He pulls his words off of faces in the audience, out of his big brain, and his even bigger heart.
They gave him a standing ovation when he was done. It surprised me. I think it surprised him most of all. Even his father stood up behind him, reluctant as he might have been. Jed stood there and shared his vision for the future. He told his classmates what he expected them to turn the world into. Jed Bartlet, my best friend, the idealist. He'll never grow out of it.
He's been in the house now for a couple hours. Most of his family gets a little squeamish with me around, and I get a little squeamish around his father. To the Bartlet family, I'm Jed's poor friend from Chicago. The freeloader. Mrs. Bartlet fixed me a plate of food and I came out here and climbed into the loft of the barn, where I've been ever since. He knows where to find me, and he should be up anytime now with cigars and hopefully some alcohol that he pilfered from Jonathan's room.
The moon is full and shining over the farm. I lean back and try to position myself so the hay isn't digging into my bare back. It's hot tonight, which is strange for New Hampshire. It's usually nice and cool after dark, but not tonight. One of the worst hot spells Jed says he can ever remember. I hear something crash down in the barn. Must be Jed, tripping over a rake or something. I sit up, trying to brush the hay off of me. The sweat makes it stick, so I give up and peer down into the dark below.
"Is that you, jackass?" I say.
"Yeah, hang on a second," Jed calls back. He's trying to climb up the ladder with a plate of food and a bottle of booze. I reach my hand down and he hands me the bottle. Wild Irish Rose. I've removed the top and taken a couple swigs by the time he's up in the loft with me.
"Having a nice time up here without me?" he murmurs, setting the food down and peeling his t-shirt off. "It must still be ninety degrees outside."
"It's a nice night," I mumble in reply. Jed strikes a match and for a minute his face is illuminated from the fire. He blows it out and all that's left is the reddish glow from his cigarette. "How's the family doing?"
"Oh, just great. You'd think Jonathan had graduated again from the way they're fawning over him in there. Mom seemed to sense that I was getting annoyed and told me I could go if I wanted. Dad and his brothers have been in his study almost since we got back here, talking politics I suppose. I've always wondered what they talk about in there," Jed says. He leans into the moonlight to flick ash out of the barn.
"You should have brought Delores up," I chuckle.
"She didn't stay long. Andrew and Simon both somehow ended up with the mumps," Jed says.
"The mumps? Aren't they a little old to be getting the mumps?"
"That's what I said, but you know Delores. Andrew and Simon are her whole world. And I don't think Mr. Landingham does too well with sick twins," Jed smiles. "I don't think the mumps will keep the two of them out of trouble, anyway."
I laugh at that. Jed's letters are always full of 'Guess what Andrew and Simon did this time' stories. The twins are the closest things Jed has to friends in Manchester. They're just fifteen, and they go to public high school, but Jed tutors both of them in Latin and they get along pretty well.
"What's she gonna do without you to boss around next year?"
"I suppose she'll survive. I'm gonna miss her, Leo," Jed sighs.
"I know. But she knows you've got to go. She knows you almost as well as I do," I reply, reaching for the bottle again. I can feel Jed's eyes on me, monitoring the alcohol intake.
"Well, anyway, I've got some news. Mr. Landingham's brother lives right outside of Boston, and he has an apartment above the shoe store he owns. Mrs. L said he'd agree to let us have the apartment for the summer in exchange for doing some stocking at night," Jed smiles.
"We could work for Jack during the day," I reply, and envision the two of us passing out anti-Nixon propaganda and getting drunk in my father's favorite pub.
"Indeed we could," he says, and reaches across the hay for the bottle. He takes a couple of swigs and returns it to my grasp. "I don't know how you drink that stuff."
"It tops communion wine, that's for sure," I smile. It's quiet in the loft for a while, and I can't help but think that Josie and Liz would love it here. Josie loved our neighborhood in Boston. It was more open than Chicago is. Liz is too young to remember I guess, but she loved it too. I can still see the two of them running around in their underwear while I sprayed them with the garden hose.
"How's Mom doing, Leo?" Jed finally breaks the silence. I try not to think about how she looked when I left. Like a ghost in her bed. But so much better than she looked at Christmas.
"The doctors think the cancer has slowed down," I say quietly. "She's still on all that medicine though, Jed. It took all her strength to get up while you were in town last weekend. She didn't want to miss seeing you though," I stretch my legs out in front of me.
"She wanted to see you graduate, Leo. She couldn't have been more proud," he replies. I smile, even though he can't see my face.
"I don't know what's going to happen when she passes," I mumble. I probably wouldn't say so much but for the alcohol in my system. "Josie and Liz will probably ship off to Aunt Mary's in Atlanta. I'll never get to see them. They'll forget all about me."
"Leo, they could never forget about you. You're their big brother. You've practically raised them," Jed sits up, and I can see his face and bare shoulders in the moonlight. "You're going to college so you can get a job and send them both to school, too."
"Aunt Frances left them enough money to go to school. And enough money for Mom to be comfortable until ... until..." I break off and grab the bottle, trying to swallow down the tears.
"Anyway, Mr. Landingham has a place for us in Boston. I say we get the hell out of here," Jed says, lighting another cigarette.
"Yeah," I reply, and turn to look out at the farm again.
*******************************************************
I startle out of my sleep just before dawn. I don't remember when I fell asleep last night, but it was obviously before Leo, judging by the empty bottle next to his still sleeping form. He's got hay stuck to his hair and pretty much everywhere else. I take the bottle and climb out of the loft in bare feet to get my chores done. It's Sunday, so I'll get showered and go to early mass with Mom before Leo wakes up.
Dad is sitting at the kitchen table when I walk into the house with the milk. He doesn't even look up from the newspaper. I clank the bucket down into one of the sinks, more loudly than I should have, and pad back through the kitchen. I can hear my father mutter something under his breath as I pass. I take the high road and climb the stairs two at a time.
I stand in the shower long enough to get the barn smell off of me, and towel off quickly before dressing for mass. My hair doesn't want to lay right this morning, but I'm not in the mood to fool with it. Mom comes out of my brother's room just as I leave mine. She reaches out and slides her arm around my shoulders as we walk downstairs.
"We'll be back for lunch, Jonathan," she calls to my father as we exit the house.
"Yeah," he says, and I'm surprised she got that much reply. I open the car door for Mom and then cross around to my side. We back out of the garage and I imagine Leo's still sleeping soundly in the hay.
************************************************
Judging from the sun in my face, I assume it's about noon when I wake up alone in the loft. I forgot today was Sunday. Jed was probably up before dawn to milk the cow and go to church. I can't help but laugh at the thought of Jed carrying the cross up the aisle before mass. And this whole thing now with studying for priesthood. I don't imagine that will last through first semester. There are big things in his future, and hearing confessions isn't one of them.
I don't think he realizes that he has, like, a destiny. He's going to change the world. I'm not really sure how he's going to do it yet. I'm sure, once he realizes he needs to major in economics, that that destiny will reveal itself. Right now, however, I'm perfectly content on being along for the ride.
I stretch my legs and arms before standing up and attempting to brush most of the hay off of me. I'm sure there's pieces stuck somewhere, but I'm too hung over to care much. I peer out of the barn to see Mr. Bartlet helping Jonathan put his stuff in the car. I take my cue and climb out of the loft, sneak across the yard, and hustle upstairs to get in the shower before Mr. Bartlet has a chance to shoot me a dirty look.
I'm careful to check my tracks and make sure I didn't leave hay behind me as I pad through the kitchen and up the stairs to Jed's room. His room is at the end of the hallway on the second floor. I open the door to see that pretty much nothing has changed since I was here over winter break. He had pennants hanging on the wall for each school he applied to last time I was here. There's only two hanging now, Notre Dame and Michigan. He didn't apply to Michigan, but I brought it to him when I was here last time. The American flag is still hanging above his bed, and his bed is still unmade. I flop down on his bed and turn over to look at his nightstand. The picture Josie took of us last summer is framed and sitting on top of a wooden box. He's wearing his Red Sox cap, and I'm wearing my White Sox cap, and we're sitting on our stoop playing chess. I still can't believe he sat right there in the middle of Chicago with a Red Sox cap on. Jed Bartlet is a pompous ass.
I reach over and gently remove the box from under the picture. I'm guessing he made it, because it's pretty pathetic looking. The top is carved in a nice pattern though, surrounding the seal of the Roman people. I roll my eyes and open the box. There are a few ribbons from school competitions, and some postcards his uncle sent his father from Italy. I imagine Jed just liked the pictures. I lift out his Saint Christopher's medal and wonder why he isn't wearing it. Then I notice the clasp on the chain is broken and I put it back in the box.
I'm about to close the box when my finger slips and pushes the bottom of the box up. I hold it up and realize there's a false bottom in it. I roll my eyes again and wonder what he could possibly need a false bottom in this box for. I lift all the junk out and pry the bottom up, to find several newspaper clippings and what I imagine is every letter I've ever written to him. My untidy scrawl covers what must be over a hundred dingy envelopes. I can't believe he saved them all.
I take a closer look at the newspaper clippings and realize they're from the Chicago Sun-Times. There's a clipping from the results of the Illinois Forensics Tournament, which I won; a clipping from the State Latin Convention, where several of us were nearly arrested for disturbing the peace, photo of yours truly in a toga included; and Aunt Frances' obituary. Jed must be subscribing to the Chicago Sun-Times, because I didn't send him these.
I replace everything like I found it and make my way into the bathroom. If Jed went to early mass, he should really be back by now. I wonder what they're doing. The shower does wonders for my headache. I towel off, pull on a pair of jeans, brush my teeth, and go back to Jed's room, where he's sitting on the bed pulling off his tie.
"How was church?" I ask.
"Just fine," he says, without looking up. He's probably upset that Jonathan left without saying goodbye to him. I don't know why Jed expects his brother to all of the sudden take an interest in him. Jonathan is too much like his dad.
"I saw Jonathan leave this morning," I say, sitting down next to him on the bed.
"Yeah," Jed says, and tosses the tie behind him. "Mr. Landingham talked us into coming over for brunch after mass. The twins were apparently getting restless and were in desperate need of entertainment. I had the mumps when I was eight so it wasn't a big deal," he continues as he pulls his dress shirt off. "Mrs. Landingham told Mom all about the apartment over the shoe store, and Mom seemed to be fine with it. I almost told Mom she should come with us."
"Good thing you caught yourself," I reply. The first, and consequently the last, time Jed ever suggested divorce to his mother was the first time she ever struck him. Mrs. Bartlet is more devout than Jed is, if that's humanly possible.
"I hate to leave her here, Leo. Although, who knows. Maybe once I'm gone Dad will return to human form, and Mom will be happy again," Jed sighs. I sigh too.
"Delores is here. Your mom has friends at church, and she's got work in the registrar's office. She'll be fine, Jed. You've gotta grow up sometime," I say, trying to sound reassuring.
"Yeah," he says. He still doesn't look up, and I know this will bother him all summer. Jed knows what he's got to do. I've just got to be patient while he works up the courage to do it.
TBC
Feedback: Diamonds in the Rough.
"Jed!"
I don't move. I pretend I'm still asleep, hoping Mom will feel sorry for me since I've only been asleep for an hour and a half. Finals are this week. The final finals. Graduation is this weekend. I can hardly believe it. I got home last night around seven, and went straight to my room to study for my Latin final, which is in three hours.
"Jed!" Mom is in my room now, and she's flipped on the lamp next to my bed. "Josiah, I know you're tired. I know you had a big weekend and I know you were up all night studying, but if you don't go do your chores your father will hold your diploma."
Mom's just joking, but I really wouldn't put it past Dad at this point. After the fights we've been having lately, he's beyond ready to be rid of me. You can cut the tension in this house with a knife.
I sit up slowly and pull the blankets around my legs.
"So, how's Leo? You were so hot to study last night you didn't even tell me how graduation went, sweetheart!" Mom's picking up the papers that are scattered all over the room. I've been translating Ovid for six months and I'm almost done with Metamorphosis. I also practiced verb conjugations for about forty-five of those scattered pages.
"He's great, Mom. His mom is doing a lot better, and Josie and Liz have grown up like you wouldn't believe. His speech was amazing. I'm thinking about stealing some of his ideas," I yawn, waiting for Mom to leave so I can put some pants on.
"I thought you had to submit your speech for approval last week," Mom says.
"I did, but you know me. I like to speak extemporaneously," I smile.
"You're just going to go out of your way to stick it to your father, aren't you, Jed?"
"Yes, ma'am," I smile.
"Well, get going on your chores. I'll have breakfast for you when you're done."
It's another amazing morning on this farm. Having Mom wake me up in the morning and then coming out here for milk and my first cigarette are the only things I'll miss about this place come fall. It's gonna be so weird not having Mom around all the time.
I still can't believe I'm finally graduating. I also can't believe that Leo can't come this weekend. We've had the summer planned for months, and at the last minute his scholarship interview for Michigan got changed. It's okay though. I think he was more upset about it than I was. His sisters made fun of us all weekend. Josie said we might as well be dating, as emotional as we are when we get to see each other.
I told Leo this weekend I've decided to study for priesthood at Notre Dame. He was pretty surprised. I'd been planning on economics for the past couple years, but after spending all year teaching a CCD class and interning at church, I think this is really what I want to do.
Leo asked me if I was that sure that I was never gonna get laid. I didn't even have a date to my own prom. I'm pretty sure that if I were supposed to meet the person I'm going to marry, I would have met her by now. Leo dates all the time, and rarely dates the same girl more than once or twice. Leo also said he doesn't know many priests that smoke half a pack of Marlboros a day. I'll cut back.
I finish milking Eleanor, the cow my mom named after herself, finish my cigarette, and trudge back up to the house, reciting verb endings for the pluperfect tense as I go. Mom has my typical breakfast on the table, and I eat quickly. She kisses my cheek and wishes me luck on my final, and I grab my books and keys and am out the front door before my father has come downstairs.
I drive down the dirt road pretty slowly, enjoying the morning. I've become a lot more sentimental about nature and stuff lately. I think it's because I know I'm not coming back here again for a very long time after August. Mom knows that, too. She knows that until Dad is gone, I won't be able to rest easy in the house. I know I'm breaking her heart. But this is what I have to do. I'll stay at Notre Dame all year and probably go to Chicago with Leo for the holidays. But she doesn't complain. She just smiles at me and nods. God bless her.
I don't know why the hell I stayed up all night studying for Latin. The final was so stupid. Just some translation and Roman history. My teacher congratulated me as I turned my test in. He also handed me a slip of paper. He suggested I include the quote in my valedictorian speech.
Illegitimi non carborundum.
Don't let the bastards take you down.
I'm sure Dad would just love that one. I smile at my teacher and then exit the room, before all of my classmates. They all hate me anyway, so it's just that much better I guess.
I drive into town and buy lunch for Mrs. Landingham and myself. I drive back to school and eat with her in the Ladies' Faculty Lounge. I've become almost a novelty in the room since Mrs. Landingham took over last year. This is another one of those things that drives my father crazy. I ask her if she's afraid for her job because of our friendship. She shrugs it off and changes the subject. She'll be the other thing I miss when I ship off to South Bend in the fall. Mrs. Landingham has really become like the big sister I never had.
She asks how Leo is doing and how graduation went. I tell her all about his valedictorian speech and how much better his Mom is doing. She says she's so excited to see him again, and I have to tell her he can't come to graduation. She's disappointed, probably mostly for me.
It's Saturday now, and I'm in my room getting ready for our non-denominational baccalaureate service, which will be followed immediately by commencement. Baccalaureate is the only event of the day that I'm not allowed to speak at. Dad's too afraid I'll go Catholic on him and offend my classmates. They've offended me for four years, wouldn't you think I'd get a little revenge? Nope. Not this time, Jed.
"Josiah!" Mom calls from downstairs. I can see Jonathan out my window, shooting baskets on the hoop hung on the side of one of the barns. Mom made him come home from Rutgers for the weekend. I'm sure he wouldn't have bothered otherwise.
"Yes, ma'am," I shout, still tying my uniform tie for the very last time. After today, I'll never have to wear this thing again.
"We have a surprise for you downstairs, sweetheart," Mom calls back. She sounds really excited.
"Mom, I can see Jonathan out the window. And I heard you talking to him last night on the phone. No surprise there," I call, scooping up my cap and gown and the copy of my speech.
"Jed, your brother was not the surprise. The surprise is downstairs. I think you really ought to hurry down!"
I don't know what it could possibly be. I'd begged my parents all spring to let me get another dog after our Labrador retriever died. But it's a little late now to be buying me a dog, unless they expect me to be able to keep it in the dorm.
I bound down the stairs and see an extremely familiar suitcase sitting in the foyer. I don't even have to get to the kitchen.
"Leo!" I shout, and break into a run. He's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, wearing his lopsided grin.
"Hello, Mr. Valedictorian," he says, standing up. I wrap my arms around his shoulders like I haven't seen him in a year.
"What happened? Did they cancel your interview?"
"No. It was yesterday, so I drove all night. I wouldn't miss this, Jed," he smiles, and sits back down. "I bet Delores was going to be pissed at me for not coming."
"Leopold, watch your language," my mother chides, trying not to laugh. Mom absolutely adores Leo. She has from the first time he set foot in the house two summers ago.
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bartlet," he smiles, and then looks back at me. "Ready for your speech? I'm sure all your classmates are bringing pillows and blankets."
"Shut up," I say, pouring myself a cup of coffee and sitting next to him at the table. "Did you really drive all the way from Michigan?"
"Yes," he says. "And if I weren't so angry at myself for blowing my interview I probably would have fallen asleep and run off the road."
"Oh, get real. You don't blow interviews," I say.
"Well, interviews are important. Michigan isn't throwing money at me," Leo says, rather condescendingly.
"Notre Dame is not throwing money at me, jackass," I reply. "You'll probably wind up with more scholarship money than me anyway."
"Language, Jed," my mother mutters and swats my shoulder on her way out of the kitchen. I wait for her to get out of earshot before continuing my conversation.
"So, how long are you staying?"
"As long as I can, I guess. I know your dad doesn't -" I cut Leo off.
"I don't care about my dad, Leo. Maybe we can get jobs together this summer or something," I say.
"You don't need a job, Jed. You should spend your summer relaxing and trying to get laid," he smirks.
"Well, I'm definitely not gonna get laid in Manchester, New Hampshire. We should go try to get messenger jobs at a Kennedy office," I smile. "You know you want to. We could go to Boston, Leo. A whole summer in Boston, just you, me, and Jack."
"Jack isn't going to be in Boston," Leo rolls his eyes at me. "But your idea is intriguing. He's gonna win, Jed. He has to."
"No kidding. I think if Nixon wins I'll defect," I smile.
"You're full of it," he laughs. "A whole summer in Boston, though. I'm sure you'd drag me to Red Sox games."
"Yes, Leo. Baseball. Beer. Girls. Well, girls for you anyway. I don't know what the big attraction is," I sigh. "You're short, you wear your hair like you're ready to ship out any day, and you're an incredibly dull conversationalist."
"First of all, you're short too. Second of all, anyone is an incredibly dull conversationalist when they're in the conversation with you, Jed. You know why? Because you barely pause for air."
"If you'll excuse me, I have a moving graduation speech to deliver," I say, standing up. Leo stands up too, takes our coffee mugs and puts them in the sink, and follows me out of the kitchen.
"It's gonna be a big crowd. Ya nervous?"
"Not really," I smirk.
"It's your kind of crowd," he says, and we head out the front door toward my beat-up Ford.
*************************************************
I keep replaying his speech over and over in my mind. It amazes me how well he speaks. I don't think he looked down at his draft even once. He pulls his words off of faces in the audience, out of his big brain, and his even bigger heart.
They gave him a standing ovation when he was done. It surprised me. I think it surprised him most of all. Even his father stood up behind him, reluctant as he might have been. Jed stood there and shared his vision for the future. He told his classmates what he expected them to turn the world into. Jed Bartlet, my best friend, the idealist. He'll never grow out of it.
He's been in the house now for a couple hours. Most of his family gets a little squeamish with me around, and I get a little squeamish around his father. To the Bartlet family, I'm Jed's poor friend from Chicago. The freeloader. Mrs. Bartlet fixed me a plate of food and I came out here and climbed into the loft of the barn, where I've been ever since. He knows where to find me, and he should be up anytime now with cigars and hopefully some alcohol that he pilfered from Jonathan's room.
The moon is full and shining over the farm. I lean back and try to position myself so the hay isn't digging into my bare back. It's hot tonight, which is strange for New Hampshire. It's usually nice and cool after dark, but not tonight. One of the worst hot spells Jed says he can ever remember. I hear something crash down in the barn. Must be Jed, tripping over a rake or something. I sit up, trying to brush the hay off of me. The sweat makes it stick, so I give up and peer down into the dark below.
"Is that you, jackass?" I say.
"Yeah, hang on a second," Jed calls back. He's trying to climb up the ladder with a plate of food and a bottle of booze. I reach my hand down and he hands me the bottle. Wild Irish Rose. I've removed the top and taken a couple swigs by the time he's up in the loft with me.
"Having a nice time up here without me?" he murmurs, setting the food down and peeling his t-shirt off. "It must still be ninety degrees outside."
"It's a nice night," I mumble in reply. Jed strikes a match and for a minute his face is illuminated from the fire. He blows it out and all that's left is the reddish glow from his cigarette. "How's the family doing?"
"Oh, just great. You'd think Jonathan had graduated again from the way they're fawning over him in there. Mom seemed to sense that I was getting annoyed and told me I could go if I wanted. Dad and his brothers have been in his study almost since we got back here, talking politics I suppose. I've always wondered what they talk about in there," Jed says. He leans into the moonlight to flick ash out of the barn.
"You should have brought Delores up," I chuckle.
"She didn't stay long. Andrew and Simon both somehow ended up with the mumps," Jed says.
"The mumps? Aren't they a little old to be getting the mumps?"
"That's what I said, but you know Delores. Andrew and Simon are her whole world. And I don't think Mr. Landingham does too well with sick twins," Jed smiles. "I don't think the mumps will keep the two of them out of trouble, anyway."
I laugh at that. Jed's letters are always full of 'Guess what Andrew and Simon did this time' stories. The twins are the closest things Jed has to friends in Manchester. They're just fifteen, and they go to public high school, but Jed tutors both of them in Latin and they get along pretty well.
"What's she gonna do without you to boss around next year?"
"I suppose she'll survive. I'm gonna miss her, Leo," Jed sighs.
"I know. But she knows you've got to go. She knows you almost as well as I do," I reply, reaching for the bottle again. I can feel Jed's eyes on me, monitoring the alcohol intake.
"Well, anyway, I've got some news. Mr. Landingham's brother lives right outside of Boston, and he has an apartment above the shoe store he owns. Mrs. L said he'd agree to let us have the apartment for the summer in exchange for doing some stocking at night," Jed smiles.
"We could work for Jack during the day," I reply, and envision the two of us passing out anti-Nixon propaganda and getting drunk in my father's favorite pub.
"Indeed we could," he says, and reaches across the hay for the bottle. He takes a couple of swigs and returns it to my grasp. "I don't know how you drink that stuff."
"It tops communion wine, that's for sure," I smile. It's quiet in the loft for a while, and I can't help but think that Josie and Liz would love it here. Josie loved our neighborhood in Boston. It was more open than Chicago is. Liz is too young to remember I guess, but she loved it too. I can still see the two of them running around in their underwear while I sprayed them with the garden hose.
"How's Mom doing, Leo?" Jed finally breaks the silence. I try not to think about how she looked when I left. Like a ghost in her bed. But so much better than she looked at Christmas.
"The doctors think the cancer has slowed down," I say quietly. "She's still on all that medicine though, Jed. It took all her strength to get up while you were in town last weekend. She didn't want to miss seeing you though," I stretch my legs out in front of me.
"She wanted to see you graduate, Leo. She couldn't have been more proud," he replies. I smile, even though he can't see my face.
"I don't know what's going to happen when she passes," I mumble. I probably wouldn't say so much but for the alcohol in my system. "Josie and Liz will probably ship off to Aunt Mary's in Atlanta. I'll never get to see them. They'll forget all about me."
"Leo, they could never forget about you. You're their big brother. You've practically raised them," Jed sits up, and I can see his face and bare shoulders in the moonlight. "You're going to college so you can get a job and send them both to school, too."
"Aunt Frances left them enough money to go to school. And enough money for Mom to be comfortable until ... until..." I break off and grab the bottle, trying to swallow down the tears.
"Anyway, Mr. Landingham has a place for us in Boston. I say we get the hell out of here," Jed says, lighting another cigarette.
"Yeah," I reply, and turn to look out at the farm again.
*******************************************************
I startle out of my sleep just before dawn. I don't remember when I fell asleep last night, but it was obviously before Leo, judging by the empty bottle next to his still sleeping form. He's got hay stuck to his hair and pretty much everywhere else. I take the bottle and climb out of the loft in bare feet to get my chores done. It's Sunday, so I'll get showered and go to early mass with Mom before Leo wakes up.
Dad is sitting at the kitchen table when I walk into the house with the milk. He doesn't even look up from the newspaper. I clank the bucket down into one of the sinks, more loudly than I should have, and pad back through the kitchen. I can hear my father mutter something under his breath as I pass. I take the high road and climb the stairs two at a time.
I stand in the shower long enough to get the barn smell off of me, and towel off quickly before dressing for mass. My hair doesn't want to lay right this morning, but I'm not in the mood to fool with it. Mom comes out of my brother's room just as I leave mine. She reaches out and slides her arm around my shoulders as we walk downstairs.
"We'll be back for lunch, Jonathan," she calls to my father as we exit the house.
"Yeah," he says, and I'm surprised she got that much reply. I open the car door for Mom and then cross around to my side. We back out of the garage and I imagine Leo's still sleeping soundly in the hay.
************************************************
Judging from the sun in my face, I assume it's about noon when I wake up alone in the loft. I forgot today was Sunday. Jed was probably up before dawn to milk the cow and go to church. I can't help but laugh at the thought of Jed carrying the cross up the aisle before mass. And this whole thing now with studying for priesthood. I don't imagine that will last through first semester. There are big things in his future, and hearing confessions isn't one of them.
I don't think he realizes that he has, like, a destiny. He's going to change the world. I'm not really sure how he's going to do it yet. I'm sure, once he realizes he needs to major in economics, that that destiny will reveal itself. Right now, however, I'm perfectly content on being along for the ride.
I stretch my legs and arms before standing up and attempting to brush most of the hay off of me. I'm sure there's pieces stuck somewhere, but I'm too hung over to care much. I peer out of the barn to see Mr. Bartlet helping Jonathan put his stuff in the car. I take my cue and climb out of the loft, sneak across the yard, and hustle upstairs to get in the shower before Mr. Bartlet has a chance to shoot me a dirty look.
I'm careful to check my tracks and make sure I didn't leave hay behind me as I pad through the kitchen and up the stairs to Jed's room. His room is at the end of the hallway on the second floor. I open the door to see that pretty much nothing has changed since I was here over winter break. He had pennants hanging on the wall for each school he applied to last time I was here. There's only two hanging now, Notre Dame and Michigan. He didn't apply to Michigan, but I brought it to him when I was here last time. The American flag is still hanging above his bed, and his bed is still unmade. I flop down on his bed and turn over to look at his nightstand. The picture Josie took of us last summer is framed and sitting on top of a wooden box. He's wearing his Red Sox cap, and I'm wearing my White Sox cap, and we're sitting on our stoop playing chess. I still can't believe he sat right there in the middle of Chicago with a Red Sox cap on. Jed Bartlet is a pompous ass.
I reach over and gently remove the box from under the picture. I'm guessing he made it, because it's pretty pathetic looking. The top is carved in a nice pattern though, surrounding the seal of the Roman people. I roll my eyes and open the box. There are a few ribbons from school competitions, and some postcards his uncle sent his father from Italy. I imagine Jed just liked the pictures. I lift out his Saint Christopher's medal and wonder why he isn't wearing it. Then I notice the clasp on the chain is broken and I put it back in the box.
I'm about to close the box when my finger slips and pushes the bottom of the box up. I hold it up and realize there's a false bottom in it. I roll my eyes again and wonder what he could possibly need a false bottom in this box for. I lift all the junk out and pry the bottom up, to find several newspaper clippings and what I imagine is every letter I've ever written to him. My untidy scrawl covers what must be over a hundred dingy envelopes. I can't believe he saved them all.
I take a closer look at the newspaper clippings and realize they're from the Chicago Sun-Times. There's a clipping from the results of the Illinois Forensics Tournament, which I won; a clipping from the State Latin Convention, where several of us were nearly arrested for disturbing the peace, photo of yours truly in a toga included; and Aunt Frances' obituary. Jed must be subscribing to the Chicago Sun-Times, because I didn't send him these.
I replace everything like I found it and make my way into the bathroom. If Jed went to early mass, he should really be back by now. I wonder what they're doing. The shower does wonders for my headache. I towel off, pull on a pair of jeans, brush my teeth, and go back to Jed's room, where he's sitting on the bed pulling off his tie.
"How was church?" I ask.
"Just fine," he says, without looking up. He's probably upset that Jonathan left without saying goodbye to him. I don't know why Jed expects his brother to all of the sudden take an interest in him. Jonathan is too much like his dad.
"I saw Jonathan leave this morning," I say, sitting down next to him on the bed.
"Yeah," Jed says, and tosses the tie behind him. "Mr. Landingham talked us into coming over for brunch after mass. The twins were apparently getting restless and were in desperate need of entertainment. I had the mumps when I was eight so it wasn't a big deal," he continues as he pulls his dress shirt off. "Mrs. Landingham told Mom all about the apartment over the shoe store, and Mom seemed to be fine with it. I almost told Mom she should come with us."
"Good thing you caught yourself," I reply. The first, and consequently the last, time Jed ever suggested divorce to his mother was the first time she ever struck him. Mrs. Bartlet is more devout than Jed is, if that's humanly possible.
"I hate to leave her here, Leo. Although, who knows. Maybe once I'm gone Dad will return to human form, and Mom will be happy again," Jed sighs. I sigh too.
"Delores is here. Your mom has friends at church, and she's got work in the registrar's office. She'll be fine, Jed. You've gotta grow up sometime," I say, trying to sound reassuring.
"Yeah," he says. He still doesn't look up, and I know this will bother him all summer. Jed knows what he's got to do. I've just got to be patient while he works up the courage to do it.
TBC
