Chapter 2: Oh, God, It's Her
Disclaimer: I don't own the people you recognize. And one person you might not recognize. I stole her name from a spoiler that means nothing now. NOTHING! …Sorry, I'm still a little touchy about the whole no-spin-off thing. They ruined him for nothing! He's been an asshole for the past, like, four months, and they ruined him, and now he can't come back cause he ruined everything with Rory!! God!!!
A/N: Okay, sorry about the outburst. But, this story is a Lit, yes. This chapter is the same day that Rory just had, except from Jess' point of view. Brett will be explained here. And I don't want anyone to tell me that the four-year-old is out of character. She's based on my sister, who's four, so I figure I've got a pretty good idea what a four-year-old acts like. Of course, she's also got some Jess in her. Anyway, the in-depth summary will be in a paragraph or so, but first let me explain about Brett's mom.
I read a spoiler a very long time ago that talked about Jess running into these skaters, and one of them was Ivy—I seem to remember the last name Johnson, but I probably made that up—and that during the show Jess and Ivy were going to become kinda-friends. So that's who Ivy is. The in-depth summary this time is from Jess' perspective, because it was once again in the story, but was crappy there, so it's in the A/N!
In-depth summary of Jess' life and his kid's life and why they're in the South: Ivy Johnson was this utterly annoying skater girl I met in Venice Beach when I lived with my father. We were never really in love, but one day…I guess we were bored, and we had sex. We both realized it was a mistake the second it was over, but unfortunately, it's one of those long-lasting mistakes. Not that I don't love Brett. I do, I just…wish she'd been born under different circumstances. Ivy, not one for responsibility, split en route from the hospital. Haven't seen her since. After talking it over for way too long, my father's girlfriend sent me to her dead mother's empty house in Atlanta, and Jimmy set me up with a job in a bookstore with an old friend of his, from when he'd lived there.
Catherine Brett Mariano, so named after the two female leads in Hemingway's A Farewell To Arms and The Sun Also Rises, and I have lived in Atlanta since the day after her first birthday, May 5, 2005.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jess~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Shit!" I exclaim, hanging up the phone. I edge my way out of the small office and into the bookstore. "Alice?" I call, walking from behind the counter into the stacks. She sighs as soon as she sees my face.
"Fine, go."
"Thanks," I start to leave, but stop when she calls me back.
"I know she's feisty, but you need to find someone who can keep her so you can work from eight till three."
"I know."
"Eight till three's not that long to ask."
"I know. Have I thanked you for this yet today?"
She half-smiles. "Not yet."
"Well, thank you." I turn and start to leave again, but Alice once again calls me back.
"If worse comes to worse, bring her here."
"We'll see." I wait a second, to see if she has anything else to say, and then run from the bookstore to the train.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Daddy!" she calls the second I open the door, running into my legs. Catie glares at me from the block corner, and then stands and walks over to us.
"I'm doing you a favor, Jess," she hisses, trying to smile at a little boy who is staring at her.
"I know," I sigh.
"I know her mother ran out, and believe me, knowing Ivy, it was gonna happen sooner or later, but I can't handle Brett and her attitude against the other children!" Catie turns her glare to my four-year-old daughter, and I lower a hand to Brett's back, as if to protect her from the bitchy woman's stare of ice.
"I'll look into some of my other options tomorrow."
"Sooner if you can, Jess! I can't handle her one more day!" Catie glances around at the little children and then leans closer to me. "She hit another child for a book today!"
I suppress a smile at the way she whispers the news, as if it's sure to cause the world to end. Then I realize the weight of the words and glance down at Brett, who is now behind me, sticking her tongue out at a girl through my legs.
Catie crosses her arms across her chest and starts tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for me to acknowledge the weight of her former comment.
"Uh…for a book, huh?" I resist the urge to say 'that's my girl', and instead just shake my head. "Anyway, we've got to be going."
"I mean it, Jess!" Catie hisses after me once more, and then promptly returns to being the happy teacher once again. I close the door behind me, and pry Brett from my legs.
"A book, huh?" I ask, swinging her through the air and throwing her onto my back. She squeals, and hangs onto my neck with both hands. I lift my hands under her tiny bottom and hold her. "Why are you hitting?"
"It was my book from the other day."
"That doesn't make it right, Brett."
"Yes it does!"
Knowing that she wants to cross her arms and stamp her feet and pout at me, I swing her back down and set her on the floor. She immediately acts out her inner brat, and as she glares at me, I see a flash of her mother. I sigh and place a hand behind her head, leading her to the exit.
"What do you want for lunch?"
She falls out of her pose long enough to jump up and down and proclaim the wonders of ice cream.
"No ice cream for lunch."
She returns to her brat face, and I just shake my head and gently push her head to get her walking.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I'm back, Alice," I call wearily an hour and a half later, walking back into the bookstore with Brett, covered in ice cream. I finally convinced her to have a sandwich, but she only agreed after I promised her ice cream.
Alice wanders from one of the back stacks, and starts when she sees Brett. "Oh, my! Someone's a little messy!"
Brett nods proudly, claps her hands together, and jumps up and down, her tongue snaking from her mouth to lick the last remains from her cheek.
"Come on. We'll get you cleaned up, and then we can set you up on the reading chair with a stack of books." Alice leads my daughter away.
"This tall?" Brett asks, holding her hands as far apart as her four-year-old arms will let her.
"Yeah, and maybe even bigger!"
"Yay!" Brett jumps up and down again, all the way to the bathroom sink, only pausing to stick her tongue out at me once. I reciprocate, and then collapse into the plastic chair behind the counter. Brett has always been a handful, just like her mother.
"Excuse me?" a nasal female voice asks, and I stand up, ready to comply with the customer's needs.
"Yep."
"Oh, I didn't think anyone was here."
"I have a four-year-old." It's my ready-made excuse, especially with women, whenever I seem worn out. And it's the truth. "And she's a handful."
"Ah," she nods. "I remember when my sister was four. Horrible."
"Yep. So, whaddya need?"
"Oh, I'm looking for that book about that movie…you know…the one with Ben Affleck…." She trails off, and I guess I'm supposed to deduce what movie and book this is by her saying, 'you know, that movie with Ben Affleck….' I haven't seen a movie that wasn't made by Nickelodeon, Disney, or Pixar since 2004.
"Check the back section." I point, and she nods and hurries off. I collapse back into the plastic chair and close my eyes for a second. I'm interrupted from my moment of peace seconds later when a little body slams onto my stomach. "Oof!"
Brett giggles. "You made a funny noise."
"I always make that funny noise when you jump on top of me." I move her from her spot kneeling on my stomach and wheel her around so she's sitting on my lap. Alice smiles at us, and then clears her throat and becomes the boss again.
"I'm not paying you to sit around, you know."
"I know," I groan. "Go look at some books." I lower Brett to the floor and stand up. She resumes her brat pose, this time with her hands on her hips.
"I can read, you know!"
"I know. Go read, then."
She scampers off, Alice not far behind her, and I pick up a box from behind the desk and move to the stacks to start shelving them. Alice's idea of good reading music, The Ramones, plays in the background. We've had a few complaints about the nature of the music, but Alice and I don't understand, because we can read just fine. Whenever people complain, we either offer to turn it down a little bit, or remove the stick from their ass so they can sit more comfortably, in the hopes that if they sit comfortably, they'll like the music. People usually storm out after the second comment, but they always find their way back, mainly because we've got an eclectic collection that rivals most libraries in this little bookstore.
"She's a handful," is the first thing Alice murmurs to me when she reaches me.
I snort. "Don't I know it."
She gazes at me, sort of proud. "You know, if I didn't know for a fact you were Jimmy's son, and at 23 years of age, I wouldn't believe it." She shakes her head, and starts shelving books with me. "Jimmy was nowhere near as responsible at 35 then you are now."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Believe me, it is. Not that I don't like Jimmy—I love him like a brother—but he's not the most reliable."
"He's gotten better," I say, almost defensively.
"I know," she says, matter-of-factly. "I guess I'm just saying that I'm proud of you. I look on that little girl like a granddaughter—"
"You're not old—"
"Oh, shush." She interrupts my interrupting. "I am too, and you know it. I'm ten years Jimmy's senior, and thirty years yours. But as I was saying—that little girl's like a granddaughter to me, and you're doing a wonderful job of raising her."
I open my mouth to protest, to mention all the things that have been getting worse lately—but she holds up a hand to stop me.
"Even if she does wake up in the middle of the night, even if she does get in trouble in school, you're still a big part of her growing up." The bell at the front desk dings, and she starts to walk away. "Good job."
She disappears from my line of view, and I stare, shocked, at the newly shelved books. What just happened? What was that little outburst of emotion? Suddenly the date hits me, and I realize why she's emotional. It's the anniversary of the day her son ran off, and it's been seven years since she's seen him. She must see me as a son.
I shudder. I can't think about another person that I can't disappoint. The weight on my shoulders is already almost too much for me to bear.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Whee! Whee!" Brett calls as I try to get her to stand up and walk up the stairs. I'm holding one of her arms with both of mine, and she's deliberately swinging around.
"Brett!" I scold. She ignores me and continues swinging. "Catherine Brett!"
She stops and lets go, sprawling on the step below me. "I don't like that name."
"I know. That's why I used it. Come on, we're gonna miss the train!"
She's sitting on the step now, her arms folded across her chest. "I don't wanna go!"
I sigh, and lean down to scoop her up. She wiggles against my arms, but at least she's not screaming, and I manage to seat her next to me on the train, then hold my arm in front of her, preventing her from moving. She huffs and crosses her arms again. I pull a book from my back pocket and start reading, ignoring the little huffing sounds from my left side. After about three stops, the huffing stops, and then she moves my arm from in front of her to behind her.
"Brett! I was reading. You made me lose my place."
"I want to see her," she points, and I follow her arm with my eyes. Oh, God. It's her.