NOVEMBER
CHAPTER 2
NOTE: Changing point of views. I decided I wanted to tell the story both from Jen and Roger's perspective, and I can't really do that when I'm speaking from Jen's point of view all the time. ;) Thank you so much to Kelby, elodie, and Eponine54. It means a lot to me that you all take the time to review my story. 3
Roger crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me. "Did I miss something?"
Jen nodded, still biting her lip. "You've missed a lot, depending on how you look at it."
Roger looked a little disgusted by Jen's last statement. "Why'd you come here Jen? When you left, you made it sound like you had nothing to ever say to me again. I fucked up and you left. The end."
"I didn't want to leave," she said quietly. She hated arguing with him. She didn't come here to argue, she came here so he could meet his daughter. "I didn't have a choice."
He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah, okay."
"You were so self absorbed in drugs and fucking every other girl you met. You abandoned me a long time ago," she shot back, raising her voice.
He picked up Mark's half empty beer bottle and tossed it in the trash, missing by a few inches. It shattered, falling to the floor. "What do you want from me? An apology? Then I'm sorry, okay? If I could take it back, I would, but I can't! Did you want to fucking prove that you're better than me, because good, you just did."
"That's not the reason I came here."
"Then why did you?" he shouted at her, bending down to pick up the glass off the floor.
"Because Abby's your daughter Roger, and she deserves to know who her father is!"
"Then why didn't you tell me?" He had grabbed some paper towels off of the counter and threw them on top of the spilt beer.
"What were you gonna do? Get clean for us? For how long, Roger? A month, maybe two? You couldn't take care of yourself!"
She could tell that he was getting really pissed off. "But I can take care of myself now. I can't make three years up overnight. You sound like you don't even want me to know her or give me a chance."
"I wouldn't have come here if I didn't want to give you a chance. I don't want to keep her from you any more."
He looked up at Jen and finished cleaning the broken glass up and shrugged. "Then don't."
Some of the beer had started to seep into the edge of the carpet, and Roger had taken no notice, so instead she stood up, brushed past him, and threw a chunk of paper towels onto it and stepped on it. "Whatever you say Roger."
"Stay for Thanksgiving weekend."
Jen looked at him. "What?"
"I said, stay here for Thanksgiving weekend. Let me get to know her. That's what you want, isn't it?" he asked calmly.
She nodded, thinking it over. That was what she wanted, but wasn't sure if this was the right way to go about things. "I don't know."
"What's not to know? It's not like we're getting married or anything. Stay for the weekend and we can hang out."
"Well—"
"Please Jen?" His eyes were begging her, and she hesitantly nodded.
"Yeah, I guess. I'd have to go back to my place and get some stuff, but okay."
He smiled and Jen thought she would melt into the fucking carpet. "Good."
His watch started beeping and she glanced at the time on the clock. 5 PM. "Hungry or something?"
"What? Oh—um, no—I mean yeah, but that's not what. Never mind." He looked away and walked into the kitchen.
"Did you eat anything at practice?"
He shook his head. "Not since this morning."
"Do you want me to make you something?" He shrugged. "Abby's probably going to be hungry soon anyway."
"You don't have to do that."
God, he was so stubborn. "Look, just let me make you something to eat, okay?"
"Yeah. Fine. I don't know what we have though. There's some pasta in the cupboard, but you don't have to go all out—"
"Roger shut up." Jen headed towards the kitchen and started pulling cabinets open. There were three packages of pasta and two jars of tomato sauce, along with a box of Cap'n Crunch, some bread, Chips Ahoy, and granola bars. Not much to work with. "Just call Mark and find out if he wants to bring himself and whoever up here."
"Okay."
_______________________________________________________
The pot was set on the stove and the noodles were already cooking twenty minutes later. Roger and Jen had made idle attempts at conversation—mostly revolving around his band, her job, and Abby.
"What's her favorite color?" he asked, sitting at the barstool behind her.
"Last week it was green—but not regular green. A neon green, I think," she smiled, stirring the pasta a little. "Now it's black."
He seemed amused by this. "Black? I thought most girls liked pink…and purple?"
She shrugged. "Abby thinks outside of the box, I guess."
"Yeah." He seemed to get quieter and quieter as the minutes wore on, and Jen had a feeling it had something to do with Abby—maybe a mixture of guilt for not knowing in the first place, and depression because he had missed out on the simple things as she grew up.
"Can I ask you something?" Jen nodded and turned towards him.
"Yeah?"
"Do you regret everything that happened between us? I mean, do you regret ever dating me in the first place?"
That was the kind of statement that either made you laugh or cry, and for Jen, it seemed to have the opposite effect. "God no. You were one of the best things that ever happened to me." She realized what she had just said and laughed a little. "Did that sound too movie clichéd and cheesy?"
Roger shook his head and smirked. "Nah. I kind of realized after you left that you were good for me to."
"Yeah."
The loft door opened and Abby came running in and around the corner into the kitchen. "Mom! Look at the picture that I drew!"
Jen crouched down to Abby's level and took it from her. "Wanna tell me about it?"
"Kay. See, this is…Mark's house, and that's you, and Roger. And you're holding hands, because you both have blue eyes. That's Collins, and then that's Maureen and Joanne, and they're holding hands because Mark told me their in love!"
Roger burst out laughing and Mark grinned sheepishly from the door. "Way to corrupt a 3-year-old," Roger added, shaking his head at Mark.
Jen started laughing too. "Good job Marky. Bring Collins with you?"
"Yup. Collins said he'll be up in a second, and so will Maureen and Joanne."
"So I guess the grass was greener on the other side for Maureen, huh?" Jen teased. Mark blushed, which only made Roger laugh harder.
"I don't get it," Abby said, staring at everyone curiously.
"That's okay sweetie, it's just us grown ups talking."
"Oh. Alright." Abby took her picture back from Jen and handed it to Roger. "For you."
Roger got off the bar stool and smiled. "Thanks. Want to come help me find a spot to hang it up? Then maybe I can show you something really cool, like my guitar, but only if your Mom lets you." Roger looked over to Jen.
"Mom he's got a guitar!"
"So I heard. Go ahead," Jen added, smiling back at Roger.
"Sorry about telling Abby about Maureen and Joanne." Mark took off his coat and placed it on the couch.
"No, it's fine. I'm trying to teach her to be open minded."
"Is it working?"
"The kid's favorite color is black, what do you think?" Jen smiled, pouring the two cans of sauce into a separate pan.
"I take it things went well with Roger?" Mark asked, collecting the plates from the cabinet and placing them on the kitchen counter.
"Definitely not at first. We started arguing, but then we both calmed down. He wants us to stay for Thanksgiving weekend."
Mark added some glasses to the counter. "Are you?"
"Yeah. I really want to give him the chance Mark, I do, but it's hard."
Mark nodded. "Don't let the past stop you. I'm serious Jen, he really has changed, and this time it's for the better."
"I'll take your word on that."
"So, are the fireworks going off yet?"
"Let's just try to get him used to the idea of being a father first."
Mark laughed and pulled out his camera. "Good idea. Look at them."
Jen looked over his shoulder in the direction of Roger's room. Roger's door was opened, and Roger was sitting on his bed with his guitar, Abby perched next to him. "I can't believe you still have that old thing."
"I really do."
"Dork."
"Shut up. November 25th, six PM, Eastern Standard Time. Close on Roger and Abby, bonding together after being separated for three years. Jen's here too. Say hi Jen." Mark panned the camera over to Jen, who gave a little wave and made a goofy face.
"Hi Jen."
"Loser!"
"Shut up, Cohen. Now put the camera down and help me with the food."
"I'm here to serve."
____________________________________________________________________
Jen was just dishing the pasta into a larger bowl when Collins, Maureen, and who Jen assumed to be Joanne entered the loft. Collins had brought a large loaf of Italian bread with him, and Maureen had brought what smelled like brownies.
"Hey," she greeted. "I'm just finishing up in here."
"No problem," Maureen added cheerily. "Oh, Jen, this is my girlfriend Joanne. Joanne, this is Jen. She used to live with us back in the day."
Joanne smiled warmly and shook Jen's hand. "It's nice to meet you. Your daughter is charming."
"Thanks. She tries."
"We could all eat in the living room? Mark suggested.
"I'll cut the bread." Collins headed off into the kitchen.
"Jen, where should I put these?" Maureen questioned, holding the brownies in her hand.
"On the counter, I guess. If Abby sees them, she'll make a beeline and a holy mess." Jen brought the pasta out from the kitchen and set it on the coffee table. "Abby, Roger, dinner!"
Abby ran out of Roger's room with a big smile on her face. "Roger let me play his guitar!" she beamed, taking a seat in between Jen and Maureen. Roger sat on one side next to Jen, while Collins, Mark, and Joanne filled in the other side.
After half an hour of various conversations, everyone was finished eating, including Abby—who had managed to get more of it on herself than in her mouth.
"Okay, so who's up for coffee and brownies?" Maureen asked, picking up a few dishes.
"Oh! I am!" Abby yelled out.
Jen picked Abby up and wiped her face with a napkin. "How about we go get your face washed and then you can have brownies with Roger and Mark so I can go get some of our things from our apartment?"
"Yeah. We're staying here?"
"Yup. For the weekend."
"Cool." Roger, Collins, and Mark laughed at this, as Maureen and Joanne smiled.
Jen carried Abby into the bathroom as Mark and Roger finished cleaning up.
"Davis does dishes. Shocking," Maureen said, sarcastically running the water over the glasses and dishes stacked in the sink.
"Fuck off," Roger said, flipping her off.
"Language," Joanne scolded, laughing. She and Maureen left to go sit in the living room with Collins, who was grading some papers he had brought with him.
"So what do you think of Abby, Rog?" Mark asked, getting the coffee started in the kitchen.
"She's great Mark. Seriously. She's so smart. I just wish I could have been there throughout everything."
"Yeah, but you were a different person back then, and Jen had her reasons," he added.
"I know."
Jen walked out with Abby, setting her down on the couch next to Collins. "Can you guys keep an eye on her for a little bit? And Mark, make sure she doesn't have too many brownies. She tries to guilt trip you sometimes."
"Do not," Abby said, watching Collins grade papers. "What's guilt trip?"
"How about a brownie sweetie?" Maureen asked, changing the subject. "Can you get them for me, pookie?" she added, referring to Joanne.
"Hey Jen, can I go with you?" Roger asked. Jen shrugged and nodded, grabbing her jacket from the rack, tossing him his leather jacket as well.
"Guess some things never change."
"What, like you and me sneaking out in the middle of the night?" he smirked.
"Nah, I was talking about the leather jacket."
___________________________________________________________________
A short subway ride later, Jen and Roger had reached Jen's apartment building. She found her key and opened the door, flicking on the lights.
Roger did a double take as he walked in. "Wow, it's pretty nice."
"Yeah, minus the whole expensive rent deal," Jen said, setting her keys on the table. "I'm gonna go get a few things, so make yourself at home."
Roger nodded, his eyes resting on the wall by the couch. A large group of pictures were scattered along it in chronological order. Roger made his way to the end—or beginning, depending on how you looked at it. There were a few pictures of himself and Jen in the beginning, and god did they look young. They must have been about 17 or 18 years old. Then prom, graduation, and a few more taken in the city after Jen and Roger moved into the loft. The familiar faces started disappearing after that, and before long Roger noticed how the people gathered in the pictures become almost nonexistent. He saw a few of a very pregnant Jen showing off her belly and making a crazy face with a girl Roger didn't know. Jen in the hospital with Abby, Abby sleeping, crawling, standing, walking. Abby coloring, watching TV, Halloween, Christmas.
He really had missed a lot.
Roger wandered down the hall and found Jen searching through a dresser in a very pink room that he could only assume was Abby's.
"Need any help?"
She looked up and shook her head. "No, I was just getting some clothes for her. Her blanket, a few books, Pinky."
"Pinky?" Roger asked.
"Yeah." Jen held up a stuffed Pink Panther animal. "Pink Panther? C'mon now."
"Oh. I had a Cookie Monster."
"I remember. It used to sit on your bed. Kind of hard to make out with someone when it's staring right back at you in the face."
"Weirdo."
"That's so 80's. Weirdo. Nice comeback," she teased, tossing the Pink Panther at him.
"Do you have everything?" he asked.
"Yeah. My clothes, her clothes, liquid Tylenol, her vitamins, toothbrushes. I brought her baby book and a photo album with me. I don't know, figure you might want to look at them later."
Roger nodded. "Okay."
"Look, I'm not trying to force anything on you. Abby gets attached to people easily, but if you're gonna let her down they just let me know ahead of time." Jen walked past him and down the hall, checking the messages on her answering machine.
"Jen, it's Mom. Give me a call back and let me know if you and Abby are coming up for Thanksgiving. Love you, bye."
"Jen, it's Kelly. Your cell's off. Can't find the sketches for the article, help! Can you fax them again? Later."
"Hey Jen, it's Michelle. What do you think about you, me, and Cancun in March? I'll explain later. Bye."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Fine."
"Jen."
"What?"
"I'm not."
"I said fine."
"Fine."
"Let's go."
"Fine."
[A/N: I really do have a stuffed Pink Panther named Pinky, lol. Except mine's about 17 years old and ready to fall apart.]