Seek and Go Hide
part five
It was just past 9:00pm and Jack had just finished spilling his guts about Doug to his best friend. They had been on the phone for over an hour already.
"I don't know Jackers, I thought you were done with the straight boys a long time ago…"
"But he's not straight Jen," said Jack plaintively, "He's just …a late bloomer."
"What does Pacey say?" asked Jen seriously.
"I haven't really talked to Pacey about it. I mean not in so many words. Or with any words."
"Why not?"
"Well for one thing, I don't think it's my place to out Doug to Pacey," said Jack.
"Maybe Doug already told Pacey."
"That's incredibly doubtful."
"You never know. You said he was talking to somebody - maybe it's Pacey. And besides, what happened to the sneaky Jack I used to know? Sneaky Jack would be able to discover what Pacey knew before Pacey even knew what hit him. Sneaky Jack knew how to pump for information. Sneaky Jack had skills," teased Jen.
"I still have skills," pouted Jack.
"Then use them McPhee! What the hell?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Jen sighed, "What else?"
"I haven't felt like this in so long Jen. We have so much in common and we have fun and he's so kind and…" Jack's voice trailed off.
"And he's freakin' hot!" finished Jen. "Plus there's the uniform. I admit he presents a tasty package."
Jack laughed, "And you haven't even seen him recently! I swear he's gotten better looking! I look at him and I just go limp…"
"Jack, I know it's been awhile but going limp? That's actually a bad sign!"
"You know what I mean!" said Jack indignantly.
Jen relented, "Sure. Weak knees, tender heart, buzzing brain, sweaty palms, flushed cheeks. I vaguely recall the rush of desire."
"I know you do. So what do I do?"
"Well Jack, abandoned pregnant women aren't really known for their stellar advice, but I say go for it. Talk to Pacey. Or even better, go talk to Doug. Let him know you understand that he's in a vulnerable place but also let him know that you're interested in pursuing whatever it is between you two. If he feels it too, then you guys can go from there. But Jack…"
"Yeah Jen?"
"He may not want to do that. He may not be able to give you what you need. What you deserve. And if he's not capable of that, then you can't waste your time. Don't just set yourself up for failure. You've been hurt enough. Promise me you'll break this pattern.
"Jen…"
"Ok, then promise me you'll at least try to break this pattern," insisted Jen.
"I'll keep my eyes open."
"It's not your eyes I'm worried about Jack, it's your stupid, fragile, little heart that concerns me."
"Speaking of little hearts, how's the bean sprout?"
"Growing. None of my clothes fit right. Plus, who knew the second trimester would be all about my breasts. They are attention-getters! Oh! And according to the books, the baby now has hair all over its entire body. Which truthfully? Is a little creepy. Ever since I read that, I keep dreaming about an evil monkey living inside me and I constantly crave bananas. I might be insane."
Jack did his best not to laugh because he knew Jen was genuinely concerned. The shock of the pregnancy coupled with her dickhead boyfriend's departure, had left her completely at sea and more than a little moody. Though Grams assured him the moods had to do with her changing hormones and were not necessarily the hallmark of instability. "You're not insane Jen," Jack said soothingly.
"Well you've been warned. And if I give birth to a monkey, you're in charge!"
"Me? Why am I in charge? What do I know about monkeys?"
"It's an unwritten rule - godparents always take charge in case of simian births. You've heard that right? I'm sure I read it in one of my books…"
"Oh no…" laughed Jack. Then, realizing what she had just said, he sputtered, "Wait Jen. Hang on. You want me to be the baby's godparent?"
"Well I figure that's better than you being the baby's 'there-is-no-god-parent'."
"You're hilarious."
"Will you do it Jack?"
"Of course I will. Of course. I'm honored you asked me."
"There's no one else I would even consider Jack." Jen paused thoughtfully then said, "This baby is going to need you almost as much as I do."
"Well, that baby's got me. And so do you. Always. Hey, does this mean I get some input regarding the name? If so, I suggest Mojo if it's a boy and Koko if it's a girl."
"Jack are you prepared to be hung up on?" asked Jen sweetly.
"Yeah," smirked Jack.
"Good." And with that the phone went dead. Jack sat the cordless phone down on the counter and smiled widely. Talking to Jen had cheered him up and given him a renewed sense of hope. And a godbaby thought Jack. I'm going to be a godparent! The idea filled him with joy. I can't wait to spoil that kid! The phone rang under his hand. Unsurprised, Jack picked up the receiver knowing it would be Jen.
"I love you Jack."
"I love you too Jen."
"Night."
----------------------------------------
It was late, but Jack figured he take a little walk and see if maybe, just maybe, Pacey was around. He put on his coat and hat and headed toward the Ice House. It was colder than he expected it to be. Winter in Capeside was always so weird; sometimes it was almost balmy but often it snowed. Capeside: Land of Unseasonable Weather and Convoluted Emotions. It ought to be a bumper sticker thought Jack as he headed across town.
When he reached the Ice House, it was mostly dark. It was obvious that everyone, patrons and staff, had gone home long ago - everyone except the one man who never seemed to leave. Pacey had become a total workaholic since his return to Capeside. As someone who had been friends with Pacey for so many years, Jack found his utter devotion to the restaurant both impressive and worrisome. It didn't take a genius to see that Pacey was using work as a way to avoid everything else life might have in store for him. But try getting him to talk about it and you were likely to get an earful of denials and recriminations. And if you were really lucky, you might even get a sock in the jaw. Jack grimaced, remembering the night he had pushed Pacey a little too far regarding that very subject.
Jack knocked on the window, peering deep inside. Startled, Pacey looked up from behind the bar and the stack of papers he was apparently digging through. Seeing a dark, Jack-shaped figure, Pacey smiled and got up to let his friend in from the cold.
"Jackie! Whatcha doin?" enthused a pungent Pacey. "Come in! Does it seem colder than usual to you?"
"Hey Pace. Yeah, it's borderline frigid out there. You busy?" Jack followed Pacey back to the bar wondering why he reeked of alcohol. He sniffed, "Are you drinking bourbon?"
"Among other libations. You want one?"
"Not really," answered Jack. Seeing Pacey's face fall, he changed his mind, "Maybe small one."
"Righty-oh. Warm you up old school!" Pacey refilled his own glass and poured Jack a not-small glass of bourbon. He passed it over to his friend saying, "Here's too less regret and more fun! Cheers!"
Jack took a drink, feeling the warmth of the liquor spread though him. He relaxed a little. "Hey guess what? Jen asked me to be the baby's godparent!"
"Jen doesn't believe in God."
"See that?" Jack pointed back towards the kitchen and Pacey's gazed followed. "That's the point you're missing," cracked Jack as he shoved an unseeing and unsuspecting Pacey playfully on the shoulder.
"Oh!" exclaimed Pacey as he toppled over, crashing into the back bar before hitting the floor with a thud. "Congratulations! When'd you get so tough and mean?"
"Shit Pacey, I'm sorry!" Jack hurried around the bar to help his friend up.
"You probably did not notice that I am somewhat intoxicated," said Pacey as he regained his feet. He swayed slightly before walking around and sitting down heavily on a barstool. "How could you know?"
"Actually, I did notice. I just didn't realize it would make you a pushover."
"I've always been a pushover Jack. Ask anyone." Seeing the concerned look in Jack's eyes, Pacey tried to change the subject, "Howza momma-to-be doing anyway?"
"She's fine…you know, considering."
Pacey nodded, "She got a bum deal with that bum."
"Well, if you ask me she's better off without him," responded Jack.
"Maybe in the long run, but I bet it doesn't feel like it to her," Pacey frowned and his eyes drooped a little. "What does 'better off' mean anyway?"
"So Pacey, what's with you? Why are you three sheets to the wind?" asked Jack.
"I'm not three sheets or two or even one sheet to the wind. I am not sheety. I'm merely doing some late night paperwork." As he motioned to the pile of papers, he managed to knock them all off the bar and onto the floor. "My system!" laughed Pacey. "I may be a little," he gestured with his thumb and forefinger, "…a little, just a smidgen sheety." He squinted comically at Jack, "A little bit."
Jack bent down to pick up the papers, smiling and shaking his head. He asked again, "So how come the intox-ithon?"
"I just need to empty out the old brainpan. I feel bad." Pacey sighed and took another drink.
Jack looked up surprised. Getting a straightforward answer out of Pacey almost never happened. Jack set the papers neatly back on the bar and sat down next to his friend. "What do you feel bad about?" asked Jack gently.
"Doug."
To say Jack was surprised was an immense understatement. He waited for Pacey to continue.
"We went to Boston the other night…went to some clubs and I…I encouraged him…well he got into some… It wasn't a big deal but you know Dougie."
Jack had no idea what Pacey was talking about. "Yeah?" he prompted Pacey.
"He's so freaked out but he's trying…and I'm so proud of him 'cuz I never would have thought he'd have the nerve…and he made out with that guy. On the dance floor! Can you believe that Jack! A. He was dancing. B. He was kising. C. A hot guy!"
Seeing Jack's stunned look, Pacey laughed and continued, "I know! It blew me away too! But then the guy wants money and Doug flips his lid. Which, come on, is understandable because how was he supposed to know the dude was a hustler? He just wants to get caught up with the rest of the world, you know, but now this…I dunno. He's messed up good now. And he's my brother… I wanted to help him…and the road to hell is paved with my good intentions… and…and…and shit I shouldn't be telling you this. Doug would actually shoot me dead if he knew I was telling you any of this. Whoa. Soon I'll know what it feels like to be riddled with bullets…that's an odd thought…not comforting at all…" Pacey looked like he was going to be sick.
Jack was quick to reassure him, "It'll be ok Pacey. Doug won't shoot you."
"Yeah, he will. I'm a dead man. So go ahead, tell a dead man Jack," Pacey said wryly, "because if you can't trust a dead man, who can you trust? Tell me, do you really like him?"
"Pacey. It's not that simple."
"Bullshit. You're two peas in a pod of bullshit. Try again."
Jack didn't understand Pacey's peas reference, so he just ignored it. "I…I think Doug is terrific but…man, he's got issues. And when I try to talk to him, he just pushes me away. I don't know how to deal with someone who won't let me in. But then I can't stop thinking about him…"
"Is it a sex thing Jack? Or more than that? What do you want?" pushed Pacey.
Jack stared at Pacey unsure of his answer but not wanting to lie. "I don't know Pacey. I want to find out. I do know I haven't felt like this in a long, long time."
"Well, You need to give him some time Jack. He's gotta come around on his own. He's stubborn. And also, he's going to kill me. You might not want to get involved with a murder. Not that he doesn't have good reason…I mean, yes, I'm drunk but mostly, I'm just stupid."
"Pacey, stop it. He's not going to kill you. Look, you should head home and get some sleep. Sleep this off. You'll feel better tomorrow. I'll lock this place up. Can you get home by yourself?"
Pacey nodded. "Maybe you're right," he handed Jack the restaurant keys and looked around for his coat. "But if not, wear a nice suit to my funeral. And tell Joey…tell her…that being riddled with bullets wasn't so bad compared to …to some other wounds I could name." Putting on his coat, Pacey headed for the door and didn't even look back at Jack.
--------------------------------
Doug had been sitting out on the beach for several hours. He was desperately trying to clear his head and usually the ocean helped him do that. If it was working at all tonight, it was taking an awfully long time. Doug hadn't been sleeping well the past couple of days. He had taken a few days off work, holed up in his apartment, stopped returning phone calls and had even stopped shaving. His mysterious absence had caused a stir both at work and among his family. Everyone was so concerned. They had no idea what was wrong. Except for Pacey. But Pacey knew what was good for him, and so he backed up Doug's story and told anyone who asked that the Sheriff had the flu but would be fine in a couple of days.
Doug had spent most of the first day after the Boston debacle recovering from his hangover. He hadn't felt that dreadful for as long as he could remember. But once the hangover was gone, it left Doug free to dwell on the events of that ridiculous evening. At which point he wished, more than anything, that he still had the wonderfully distracting, introspection-stopping hangover.
So it's $35 for hand, $55 oral - which you want? What? Did you think this was some love connection we had going on? Gimme a break. You fuckin' idiot. So it's $35 for hand, $55 oral - which you want? What? Did you think this was some love connection we had going on? Gimme a break. You fuckin' idiot. You fuckin' idiot. You fuckin' idiot. Over and over it played out in his head. It was crazy he knew, to obsess like this. Objectively he told himself that Dr. Olson had been right - that no one died from embarrassment no matter how severe, and that this was all part of the learning process. But I'm an officer of the law! I should know better! If anyone found out, I could lose my job! The thought of losing the one thing that had historically meant the most to him turned his stomach and made his blood run cold. Is it worth it? Can't I be happy the way I was? This thought was quickly followed by a sinking sensation and the knowledge that no, he couldn't go back, couldn't be happy that way and in fact, had never been happy that way.
So there Doug sat, in the cold night air, huddled by the small driftwood fire he had built when the cold had finally soaked though his jacket and into his bones. He felt like he was being pulled apart. He was scared to go forward and refused to go back. So where does that leave me? he thought.
"Aren't open fires on this beach illegal?" asked Jack as he appeared from nowhere and startled the hell out of Doug. Seeing Jack again caused Doug's heart to leap into his throat. Once again, happiness and terror vied for dominance inside Doug's troubled mind. Not now Jack, please, not now! Doug thought frantically.
"So call the cops," Doug snarled and then proceeded to utterly ignore Jack.
Jack stared down at Doug. He looked tired and ragged but Damn! thought Jack, the facial hair makes him look sexy as hell. Slowly Jack lowered himself to the sand. He sat close, but not too close to Doug and said, "Right. Well it's a nice night for a fire anyway." He rubbed his hands over the flames and grinned at Doug. When he got no response, he tried again, "So. Whatcha doing?"
"Nothing," grunted Doug. He didn't understand what Jack was doing here. The last time they had seen each other, Jack had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with Doug. Jack wasn't afraid of anything and Doug knew that Jack would never be able to tolerate or comprehend the tight grip of fear that Doug was constantly battling against. Sometimes it seemed like each breath, each thought was struggle. Jack could never understand that thought Doug.
"You know Sheriff; it's uh, physically impossible to do nothing."
"Ok, then Professor Literal, I'm staring."
"Cool," said Jack making a big show of staring out at the water. "Mind if I join you."
"Stare away," answered a reticent Doug.
"Thanks." After a few minutes Jack turned his gaze and stared not at the water or the fire, but directly at Doug. Jack settled in and gave himself over to the pure, unadulterated joy of staring at Doug's handsome face and strong hands and broad shoulders…every bit of him was a delight to Jack's eyes.
Feeling Jack's admiring gaze upon him unsettled Doug. "What are you doing?" he almost barked the question.
"Nothing," teased Jack. He hoped that he could jolly Doug out of his sour mood and get him to open up a little. He smiled playfully at Doug, tilted his head slightly, and was aware that he was flirting - just a little bit.
"Go home Jack," said Doug, slamming that door firmly shut.
"I talked to Pacey."
"Yeah?"
"He told me about Boston…" Jack said unexpectedly. Shit! Why did I bring this up? Why? My stupid mouth! Jack's thoughts raced berating and disparaging his inability to truly think before he spoke. "He what?!" exclaimed Doug.
He started to jump up but Jack stopped him by grabbing his arm and saying, "He didn't mean to - he was a little drunk and it slipped out. He feels terrible about it."
Defeated, Doug sank back into the sand and started shivering. Shivering that had nothing to do with the cold. "That's great. So you know. Wonderful. Really. And just think - five minutes ago I thought private humiliation was the worst of it. And now - lucky me - there's a whole new dimension of deep personal disgrace." Doug ran his hands through his hair and down across his face. He scrubbed angrily at the new growth of stubble there and growled, "I'm going to kill him,"
"Yeah, Pacey is worried about that actually. Don't freak out ok? Your brother wasn't really too forthcoming with details. Really all I know is that you had a bad night at some dance club." Jack thoughtfully vagued up what little he knew, hoping it would settle Doug down a little and possibly save Pacey from the wrath of his brother. Just don't think about Doug kissing someone who wasn't you Jack told himself.
"A bad night? If only that's all it was…"
"You want to tell me about it?"
"Not really," Doug sneered peevishly. Jack just waited because he had a feeling that Doug did want to talk about it. "I made a fool out of myself. Can we just leave it at that?"
"Sure. I guess. But Doug, just so you know, we all have our moments…things we want to take back."
There was a long silence and for a moment Jack couldn't help but think about Ethan. He had wished for years that he could take that moment back and save himself that particular scar. The thought that Doug felt, right now, the way that Jack had felt then, broke Jack's heart a little. The first bumps and bruises were always the worst. And they took the longest to heal.
"You know, I can't help but feel kind of responsible…"
"How can you possibly be responsible for this?"
"I pushed you…I…"
"Look, you said it yourself - you didn't make me gay. And you were right Jack. You didn't make me gay. I've been gay for a long time. But you know what? You did make me want to be ok with being gay. The thing is, I don't have any idea how to be gay! Let alone how to be good or even just ok with it. I don't know how but I have to figure it out."
"You don't have to do it alone." Tentatively Jack reached for Doug and took his hand - it was ice cold.
Pulling his hand back as if it were burning, Doug yelled, "Yeah I do!" Doug took a deep breath and continued in a somewhat calmer tone of voice, "Jack, you woke something up inside me. And I'm grateful for that - it's something that I thought I was… lacking but… But you're not obligated to me. It's not your job to fix me."
"I don't want to fix you Doug; I just want to help you…"
"No." Doug's voice got harder, "I've got to be the one to help me! Don't you see that? I've got to figure this out on my own. I can't expect you to hold my hand and explain the ways of the world to me…"
"What if I want to Doug?" whispered Jack. "What if I want to hold your hand," he reached for Doug again and finished, "and share this experience with you?"
Doug jerked away and stood up. "Get away from me."
Too hurt to be angry just yet, Jack tried again, "Doug…why are you acting like this?" He stood and looked Doug in the eye.
Doug didn't falter. He didn't even blink. "Leave me alone Jack." He stared stony-faced at Jack and told himself that as long as Jack left, he'd be ok. He just had to keep it together until Jack left.
"Doug… we're friends aren't we?" stammered Jack.
"No. We aren't. You said it yourself. We're nothing. Nothing! And I don't want to be your pet project Jack." With that said, Doug turned his back to Jack, squatted down and started throwing sand on the fire.
"Doug please…"
Doug could hear the hurt in Jack's voice and it made the angry, inadequate part of him incredibly happy. He knew he was lashing out, taking out his frustration and hurt on Jack but in that moment, it seemed not only fair, but also so right. He wanted to hurt Jack so much that he never came back. Doug wanted to be alone now and forever.
"Aren't you listening to me? Don't you get it? I don't want it! I don't! And I don't want you around making me feel like a failure! I don't want you!" The rage and bitterness spilled out of Doug in an angry, overwhelming flood.
The silence that followed Doug's outburst was heavy and painful. Jack stared open mouthed at Doug. Doug stared furiously at the fire. There was no way he would back down now. Still, Jack just stood there.
"Aren't you gone yet?" demanded Doug.
Jack responded in a tight, bitter voice, "Fine. Have it your way."
With that Jack turned and trudged away and, like Pacey earlier in the evening, he didn't once look back.
Doug felt sick. He wasn't some dumb kid. He knew he was hurting Jack as a way of punishing himself. But the truth was, the potential that Jack represented was too much for Doug to handle right now. The struggle of wanting something so badly and not wanting to want it at the same time made Doug lash out. He wanted to destroy everything soft and tender and chaotic inside himself until all that was left was calm control. But knowing why he did it didn't make the pain and anger go away. All it did was add regret to the bitter of cocktail of emotions that he seemed to be living on these days.
Doug finished putting out the fire. He stood up, brushed the sand from his pants and pulled his jacket tighter around his body. I'll never be warm again he thought sadly as he looked out at the ocean. The inevitable pull of the tide drove the water high onto the sand then lured it back out again. Push. Pull. In. Out. Give. Take. The ocean didn't mind. And neither did the sand.
So many people live in my town
And mind to my business but none of their own
They're all so happy to hear now that I've done wrong
I'm surprised they don't come up to thank me.
So if you want moral advice,
I suggest you just tuck it all away
I'm in the mood to burn bridges
Not in the mood to dig ditches
Don't cross me on either a day...baby
Don't make mistakes or be human
They savor your every false move
And the few that they hide - man that'll break
If ever confronted with truth
So if you want moral advice,
I suggest you just tuck it all away
I'm in the mood to burn bridges
Not in the mood to dig ditches
Don't cross me on either a day...baby
From the well of their hearts spring a poison
That mix with suspicion and reckless derision
Something they read on a church toilet stall
They think that their lives are much better
Than mine on the soapbox and ladders stand tall
So if you want moral advice,
I suggest you just tuck it all away
I'm in the mood to burn bridges
Not in the mood to dig ditches
Don't cross me on neither a day...baby
I see those arrows in front of me.
I hear you right behind me.
Don't cross me on neither a day.
-- The Mood to Burn Bridges
By Neko Case
part five
It was just past 9:00pm and Jack had just finished spilling his guts about Doug to his best friend. They had been on the phone for over an hour already.
"I don't know Jackers, I thought you were done with the straight boys a long time ago…"
"But he's not straight Jen," said Jack plaintively, "He's just …a late bloomer."
"What does Pacey say?" asked Jen seriously.
"I haven't really talked to Pacey about it. I mean not in so many words. Or with any words."
"Why not?"
"Well for one thing, I don't think it's my place to out Doug to Pacey," said Jack.
"Maybe Doug already told Pacey."
"That's incredibly doubtful."
"You never know. You said he was talking to somebody - maybe it's Pacey. And besides, what happened to the sneaky Jack I used to know? Sneaky Jack would be able to discover what Pacey knew before Pacey even knew what hit him. Sneaky Jack knew how to pump for information. Sneaky Jack had skills," teased Jen.
"I still have skills," pouted Jack.
"Then use them McPhee! What the hell?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Jen sighed, "What else?"
"I haven't felt like this in so long Jen. We have so much in common and we have fun and he's so kind and…" Jack's voice trailed off.
"And he's freakin' hot!" finished Jen. "Plus there's the uniform. I admit he presents a tasty package."
Jack laughed, "And you haven't even seen him recently! I swear he's gotten better looking! I look at him and I just go limp…"
"Jack, I know it's been awhile but going limp? That's actually a bad sign!"
"You know what I mean!" said Jack indignantly.
Jen relented, "Sure. Weak knees, tender heart, buzzing brain, sweaty palms, flushed cheeks. I vaguely recall the rush of desire."
"I know you do. So what do I do?"
"Well Jack, abandoned pregnant women aren't really known for their stellar advice, but I say go for it. Talk to Pacey. Or even better, go talk to Doug. Let him know you understand that he's in a vulnerable place but also let him know that you're interested in pursuing whatever it is between you two. If he feels it too, then you guys can go from there. But Jack…"
"Yeah Jen?"
"He may not want to do that. He may not be able to give you what you need. What you deserve. And if he's not capable of that, then you can't waste your time. Don't just set yourself up for failure. You've been hurt enough. Promise me you'll break this pattern.
"Jen…"
"Ok, then promise me you'll at least try to break this pattern," insisted Jen.
"I'll keep my eyes open."
"It's not your eyes I'm worried about Jack, it's your stupid, fragile, little heart that concerns me."
"Speaking of little hearts, how's the bean sprout?"
"Growing. None of my clothes fit right. Plus, who knew the second trimester would be all about my breasts. They are attention-getters! Oh! And according to the books, the baby now has hair all over its entire body. Which truthfully? Is a little creepy. Ever since I read that, I keep dreaming about an evil monkey living inside me and I constantly crave bananas. I might be insane."
Jack did his best not to laugh because he knew Jen was genuinely concerned. The shock of the pregnancy coupled with her dickhead boyfriend's departure, had left her completely at sea and more than a little moody. Though Grams assured him the moods had to do with her changing hormones and were not necessarily the hallmark of instability. "You're not insane Jen," Jack said soothingly.
"Well you've been warned. And if I give birth to a monkey, you're in charge!"
"Me? Why am I in charge? What do I know about monkeys?"
"It's an unwritten rule - godparents always take charge in case of simian births. You've heard that right? I'm sure I read it in one of my books…"
"Oh no…" laughed Jack. Then, realizing what she had just said, he sputtered, "Wait Jen. Hang on. You want me to be the baby's godparent?"
"Well I figure that's better than you being the baby's 'there-is-no-god-parent'."
"You're hilarious."
"Will you do it Jack?"
"Of course I will. Of course. I'm honored you asked me."
"There's no one else I would even consider Jack." Jen paused thoughtfully then said, "This baby is going to need you almost as much as I do."
"Well, that baby's got me. And so do you. Always. Hey, does this mean I get some input regarding the name? If so, I suggest Mojo if it's a boy and Koko if it's a girl."
"Jack are you prepared to be hung up on?" asked Jen sweetly.
"Yeah," smirked Jack.
"Good." And with that the phone went dead. Jack sat the cordless phone down on the counter and smiled widely. Talking to Jen had cheered him up and given him a renewed sense of hope. And a godbaby thought Jack. I'm going to be a godparent! The idea filled him with joy. I can't wait to spoil that kid! The phone rang under his hand. Unsurprised, Jack picked up the receiver knowing it would be Jen.
"I love you Jack."
"I love you too Jen."
"Night."
----------------------------------------
It was late, but Jack figured he take a little walk and see if maybe, just maybe, Pacey was around. He put on his coat and hat and headed toward the Ice House. It was colder than he expected it to be. Winter in Capeside was always so weird; sometimes it was almost balmy but often it snowed. Capeside: Land of Unseasonable Weather and Convoluted Emotions. It ought to be a bumper sticker thought Jack as he headed across town.
When he reached the Ice House, it was mostly dark. It was obvious that everyone, patrons and staff, had gone home long ago - everyone except the one man who never seemed to leave. Pacey had become a total workaholic since his return to Capeside. As someone who had been friends with Pacey for so many years, Jack found his utter devotion to the restaurant both impressive and worrisome. It didn't take a genius to see that Pacey was using work as a way to avoid everything else life might have in store for him. But try getting him to talk about it and you were likely to get an earful of denials and recriminations. And if you were really lucky, you might even get a sock in the jaw. Jack grimaced, remembering the night he had pushed Pacey a little too far regarding that very subject.
Jack knocked on the window, peering deep inside. Startled, Pacey looked up from behind the bar and the stack of papers he was apparently digging through. Seeing a dark, Jack-shaped figure, Pacey smiled and got up to let his friend in from the cold.
"Jackie! Whatcha doin?" enthused a pungent Pacey. "Come in! Does it seem colder than usual to you?"
"Hey Pace. Yeah, it's borderline frigid out there. You busy?" Jack followed Pacey back to the bar wondering why he reeked of alcohol. He sniffed, "Are you drinking bourbon?"
"Among other libations. You want one?"
"Not really," answered Jack. Seeing Pacey's face fall, he changed his mind, "Maybe small one."
"Righty-oh. Warm you up old school!" Pacey refilled his own glass and poured Jack a not-small glass of bourbon. He passed it over to his friend saying, "Here's too less regret and more fun! Cheers!"
Jack took a drink, feeling the warmth of the liquor spread though him. He relaxed a little. "Hey guess what? Jen asked me to be the baby's godparent!"
"Jen doesn't believe in God."
"See that?" Jack pointed back towards the kitchen and Pacey's gazed followed. "That's the point you're missing," cracked Jack as he shoved an unseeing and unsuspecting Pacey playfully on the shoulder.
"Oh!" exclaimed Pacey as he toppled over, crashing into the back bar before hitting the floor with a thud. "Congratulations! When'd you get so tough and mean?"
"Shit Pacey, I'm sorry!" Jack hurried around the bar to help his friend up.
"You probably did not notice that I am somewhat intoxicated," said Pacey as he regained his feet. He swayed slightly before walking around and sitting down heavily on a barstool. "How could you know?"
"Actually, I did notice. I just didn't realize it would make you a pushover."
"I've always been a pushover Jack. Ask anyone." Seeing the concerned look in Jack's eyes, Pacey tried to change the subject, "Howza momma-to-be doing anyway?"
"She's fine…you know, considering."
Pacey nodded, "She got a bum deal with that bum."
"Well, if you ask me she's better off without him," responded Jack.
"Maybe in the long run, but I bet it doesn't feel like it to her," Pacey frowned and his eyes drooped a little. "What does 'better off' mean anyway?"
"So Pacey, what's with you? Why are you three sheets to the wind?" asked Jack.
"I'm not three sheets or two or even one sheet to the wind. I am not sheety. I'm merely doing some late night paperwork." As he motioned to the pile of papers, he managed to knock them all off the bar and onto the floor. "My system!" laughed Pacey. "I may be a little," he gestured with his thumb and forefinger, "…a little, just a smidgen sheety." He squinted comically at Jack, "A little bit."
Jack bent down to pick up the papers, smiling and shaking his head. He asked again, "So how come the intox-ithon?"
"I just need to empty out the old brainpan. I feel bad." Pacey sighed and took another drink.
Jack looked up surprised. Getting a straightforward answer out of Pacey almost never happened. Jack set the papers neatly back on the bar and sat down next to his friend. "What do you feel bad about?" asked Jack gently.
"Doug."
To say Jack was surprised was an immense understatement. He waited for Pacey to continue.
"We went to Boston the other night…went to some clubs and I…I encouraged him…well he got into some… It wasn't a big deal but you know Dougie."
Jack had no idea what Pacey was talking about. "Yeah?" he prompted Pacey.
"He's so freaked out but he's trying…and I'm so proud of him 'cuz I never would have thought he'd have the nerve…and he made out with that guy. On the dance floor! Can you believe that Jack! A. He was dancing. B. He was kising. C. A hot guy!"
Seeing Jack's stunned look, Pacey laughed and continued, "I know! It blew me away too! But then the guy wants money and Doug flips his lid. Which, come on, is understandable because how was he supposed to know the dude was a hustler? He just wants to get caught up with the rest of the world, you know, but now this…I dunno. He's messed up good now. And he's my brother… I wanted to help him…and the road to hell is paved with my good intentions… and…and…and shit I shouldn't be telling you this. Doug would actually shoot me dead if he knew I was telling you any of this. Whoa. Soon I'll know what it feels like to be riddled with bullets…that's an odd thought…not comforting at all…" Pacey looked like he was going to be sick.
Jack was quick to reassure him, "It'll be ok Pacey. Doug won't shoot you."
"Yeah, he will. I'm a dead man. So go ahead, tell a dead man Jack," Pacey said wryly, "because if you can't trust a dead man, who can you trust? Tell me, do you really like him?"
"Pacey. It's not that simple."
"Bullshit. You're two peas in a pod of bullshit. Try again."
Jack didn't understand Pacey's peas reference, so he just ignored it. "I…I think Doug is terrific but…man, he's got issues. And when I try to talk to him, he just pushes me away. I don't know how to deal with someone who won't let me in. But then I can't stop thinking about him…"
"Is it a sex thing Jack? Or more than that? What do you want?" pushed Pacey.
Jack stared at Pacey unsure of his answer but not wanting to lie. "I don't know Pacey. I want to find out. I do know I haven't felt like this in a long, long time."
"Well, You need to give him some time Jack. He's gotta come around on his own. He's stubborn. And also, he's going to kill me. You might not want to get involved with a murder. Not that he doesn't have good reason…I mean, yes, I'm drunk but mostly, I'm just stupid."
"Pacey, stop it. He's not going to kill you. Look, you should head home and get some sleep. Sleep this off. You'll feel better tomorrow. I'll lock this place up. Can you get home by yourself?"
Pacey nodded. "Maybe you're right," he handed Jack the restaurant keys and looked around for his coat. "But if not, wear a nice suit to my funeral. And tell Joey…tell her…that being riddled with bullets wasn't so bad compared to …to some other wounds I could name." Putting on his coat, Pacey headed for the door and didn't even look back at Jack.
--------------------------------
Doug had been sitting out on the beach for several hours. He was desperately trying to clear his head and usually the ocean helped him do that. If it was working at all tonight, it was taking an awfully long time. Doug hadn't been sleeping well the past couple of days. He had taken a few days off work, holed up in his apartment, stopped returning phone calls and had even stopped shaving. His mysterious absence had caused a stir both at work and among his family. Everyone was so concerned. They had no idea what was wrong. Except for Pacey. But Pacey knew what was good for him, and so he backed up Doug's story and told anyone who asked that the Sheriff had the flu but would be fine in a couple of days.
Doug had spent most of the first day after the Boston debacle recovering from his hangover. He hadn't felt that dreadful for as long as he could remember. But once the hangover was gone, it left Doug free to dwell on the events of that ridiculous evening. At which point he wished, more than anything, that he still had the wonderfully distracting, introspection-stopping hangover.
So it's $35 for hand, $55 oral - which you want? What? Did you think this was some love connection we had going on? Gimme a break. You fuckin' idiot. So it's $35 for hand, $55 oral - which you want? What? Did you think this was some love connection we had going on? Gimme a break. You fuckin' idiot. You fuckin' idiot. You fuckin' idiot. Over and over it played out in his head. It was crazy he knew, to obsess like this. Objectively he told himself that Dr. Olson had been right - that no one died from embarrassment no matter how severe, and that this was all part of the learning process. But I'm an officer of the law! I should know better! If anyone found out, I could lose my job! The thought of losing the one thing that had historically meant the most to him turned his stomach and made his blood run cold. Is it worth it? Can't I be happy the way I was? This thought was quickly followed by a sinking sensation and the knowledge that no, he couldn't go back, couldn't be happy that way and in fact, had never been happy that way.
So there Doug sat, in the cold night air, huddled by the small driftwood fire he had built when the cold had finally soaked though his jacket and into his bones. He felt like he was being pulled apart. He was scared to go forward and refused to go back. So where does that leave me? he thought.
"Aren't open fires on this beach illegal?" asked Jack as he appeared from nowhere and startled the hell out of Doug. Seeing Jack again caused Doug's heart to leap into his throat. Once again, happiness and terror vied for dominance inside Doug's troubled mind. Not now Jack, please, not now! Doug thought frantically.
"So call the cops," Doug snarled and then proceeded to utterly ignore Jack.
Jack stared down at Doug. He looked tired and ragged but Damn! thought Jack, the facial hair makes him look sexy as hell. Slowly Jack lowered himself to the sand. He sat close, but not too close to Doug and said, "Right. Well it's a nice night for a fire anyway." He rubbed his hands over the flames and grinned at Doug. When he got no response, he tried again, "So. Whatcha doing?"
"Nothing," grunted Doug. He didn't understand what Jack was doing here. The last time they had seen each other, Jack had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with Doug. Jack wasn't afraid of anything and Doug knew that Jack would never be able to tolerate or comprehend the tight grip of fear that Doug was constantly battling against. Sometimes it seemed like each breath, each thought was struggle. Jack could never understand that thought Doug.
"You know Sheriff; it's uh, physically impossible to do nothing."
"Ok, then Professor Literal, I'm staring."
"Cool," said Jack making a big show of staring out at the water. "Mind if I join you."
"Stare away," answered a reticent Doug.
"Thanks." After a few minutes Jack turned his gaze and stared not at the water or the fire, but directly at Doug. Jack settled in and gave himself over to the pure, unadulterated joy of staring at Doug's handsome face and strong hands and broad shoulders…every bit of him was a delight to Jack's eyes.
Feeling Jack's admiring gaze upon him unsettled Doug. "What are you doing?" he almost barked the question.
"Nothing," teased Jack. He hoped that he could jolly Doug out of his sour mood and get him to open up a little. He smiled playfully at Doug, tilted his head slightly, and was aware that he was flirting - just a little bit.
"Go home Jack," said Doug, slamming that door firmly shut.
"I talked to Pacey."
"Yeah?"
"He told me about Boston…" Jack said unexpectedly. Shit! Why did I bring this up? Why? My stupid mouth! Jack's thoughts raced berating and disparaging his inability to truly think before he spoke. "He what?!" exclaimed Doug.
He started to jump up but Jack stopped him by grabbing his arm and saying, "He didn't mean to - he was a little drunk and it slipped out. He feels terrible about it."
Defeated, Doug sank back into the sand and started shivering. Shivering that had nothing to do with the cold. "That's great. So you know. Wonderful. Really. And just think - five minutes ago I thought private humiliation was the worst of it. And now - lucky me - there's a whole new dimension of deep personal disgrace." Doug ran his hands through his hair and down across his face. He scrubbed angrily at the new growth of stubble there and growled, "I'm going to kill him,"
"Yeah, Pacey is worried about that actually. Don't freak out ok? Your brother wasn't really too forthcoming with details. Really all I know is that you had a bad night at some dance club." Jack thoughtfully vagued up what little he knew, hoping it would settle Doug down a little and possibly save Pacey from the wrath of his brother. Just don't think about Doug kissing someone who wasn't you Jack told himself.
"A bad night? If only that's all it was…"
"You want to tell me about it?"
"Not really," Doug sneered peevishly. Jack just waited because he had a feeling that Doug did want to talk about it. "I made a fool out of myself. Can we just leave it at that?"
"Sure. I guess. But Doug, just so you know, we all have our moments…things we want to take back."
There was a long silence and for a moment Jack couldn't help but think about Ethan. He had wished for years that he could take that moment back and save himself that particular scar. The thought that Doug felt, right now, the way that Jack had felt then, broke Jack's heart a little. The first bumps and bruises were always the worst. And they took the longest to heal.
"You know, I can't help but feel kind of responsible…"
"How can you possibly be responsible for this?"
"I pushed you…I…"
"Look, you said it yourself - you didn't make me gay. And you were right Jack. You didn't make me gay. I've been gay for a long time. But you know what? You did make me want to be ok with being gay. The thing is, I don't have any idea how to be gay! Let alone how to be good or even just ok with it. I don't know how but I have to figure it out."
"You don't have to do it alone." Tentatively Jack reached for Doug and took his hand - it was ice cold.
Pulling his hand back as if it were burning, Doug yelled, "Yeah I do!" Doug took a deep breath and continued in a somewhat calmer tone of voice, "Jack, you woke something up inside me. And I'm grateful for that - it's something that I thought I was… lacking but… But you're not obligated to me. It's not your job to fix me."
"I don't want to fix you Doug; I just want to help you…"
"No." Doug's voice got harder, "I've got to be the one to help me! Don't you see that? I've got to figure this out on my own. I can't expect you to hold my hand and explain the ways of the world to me…"
"What if I want to Doug?" whispered Jack. "What if I want to hold your hand," he reached for Doug again and finished, "and share this experience with you?"
Doug jerked away and stood up. "Get away from me."
Too hurt to be angry just yet, Jack tried again, "Doug…why are you acting like this?" He stood and looked Doug in the eye.
Doug didn't falter. He didn't even blink. "Leave me alone Jack." He stared stony-faced at Jack and told himself that as long as Jack left, he'd be ok. He just had to keep it together until Jack left.
"Doug… we're friends aren't we?" stammered Jack.
"No. We aren't. You said it yourself. We're nothing. Nothing! And I don't want to be your pet project Jack." With that said, Doug turned his back to Jack, squatted down and started throwing sand on the fire.
"Doug please…"
Doug could hear the hurt in Jack's voice and it made the angry, inadequate part of him incredibly happy. He knew he was lashing out, taking out his frustration and hurt on Jack but in that moment, it seemed not only fair, but also so right. He wanted to hurt Jack so much that he never came back. Doug wanted to be alone now and forever.
"Aren't you listening to me? Don't you get it? I don't want it! I don't! And I don't want you around making me feel like a failure! I don't want you!" The rage and bitterness spilled out of Doug in an angry, overwhelming flood.
The silence that followed Doug's outburst was heavy and painful. Jack stared open mouthed at Doug. Doug stared furiously at the fire. There was no way he would back down now. Still, Jack just stood there.
"Aren't you gone yet?" demanded Doug.
Jack responded in a tight, bitter voice, "Fine. Have it your way."
With that Jack turned and trudged away and, like Pacey earlier in the evening, he didn't once look back.
Doug felt sick. He wasn't some dumb kid. He knew he was hurting Jack as a way of punishing himself. But the truth was, the potential that Jack represented was too much for Doug to handle right now. The struggle of wanting something so badly and not wanting to want it at the same time made Doug lash out. He wanted to destroy everything soft and tender and chaotic inside himself until all that was left was calm control. But knowing why he did it didn't make the pain and anger go away. All it did was add regret to the bitter of cocktail of emotions that he seemed to be living on these days.
Doug finished putting out the fire. He stood up, brushed the sand from his pants and pulled his jacket tighter around his body. I'll never be warm again he thought sadly as he looked out at the ocean. The inevitable pull of the tide drove the water high onto the sand then lured it back out again. Push. Pull. In. Out. Give. Take. The ocean didn't mind. And neither did the sand.
So many people live in my town
And mind to my business but none of their own
They're all so happy to hear now that I've done wrong
I'm surprised they don't come up to thank me.
So if you want moral advice,
I suggest you just tuck it all away
I'm in the mood to burn bridges
Not in the mood to dig ditches
Don't cross me on either a day...baby
Don't make mistakes or be human
They savor your every false move
And the few that they hide - man that'll break
If ever confronted with truth
So if you want moral advice,
I suggest you just tuck it all away
I'm in the mood to burn bridges
Not in the mood to dig ditches
Don't cross me on either a day...baby
From the well of their hearts spring a poison
That mix with suspicion and reckless derision
Something they read on a church toilet stall
They think that their lives are much better
Than mine on the soapbox and ladders stand tall
So if you want moral advice,
I suggest you just tuck it all away
I'm in the mood to burn bridges
Not in the mood to dig ditches
Don't cross me on neither a day...baby
I see those arrows in front of me.
I hear you right behind me.
Don't cross me on neither a day.
-- The Mood to Burn Bridges
By Neko Case
end part five