Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

Author's Note: This story was written for the 2022 Zenmasters Anthology on tumblr.

CHAPTER TWO
CROSSROAD AHEAD

Jackie's dad called her into his parlor after breakfast, but she needed to get ready for her ice skating date. This was the last Friday before winter break ended. School would start on Monday, and she'd had an amazing two weeks with Michael. Mom was at a real-estate agent retreat in Alpine Valley. Dad had been busy with work during her free time, so this impromptu meeting seized Jackie's heart.

Blood circulated her body like '74 Dodge Charger speeding through her veins. She remained near the parlor's cased opening and said, "Yes, Dad? I've only got a minute—"

He gestured from his armchair for her to move closer. It wasn't a suggestion. She walked slowly, heel-toe, heel-toe, and stood in front of him. "You're dating Michael again," he said.

It wasn't a question.

"No, I'm not." She clasped her hands together at her stomach. The drawstrings of her sweater collar brushed against her fingers, adding to the tension in her body.

Dad adjusted his glasses and looked up at her through them. Despite that his head was at the level of her waist, she cringed with the sensation of being looked down upon. "I'm not," she said.

"I've invested money into a potentially lucrative idea Mr. Pinciotti has for tissue boxes—" his legs were crossed, and he laced his fingers over his knee; she unclasped her hands in case he was imitating her—"and we recently had an interesting conversation."

The grandfather clock outside the parlor ticked and ticked. Her heart thumped and thumped, and the sounds threatened to drive her mad. Her dad was using the silence to let his statement sink in. She'd witnessed him do the same with other people when negotiating business deals. But she wouldn't give him what he wanted.

"That's great! Donna will finally be able to afford some new clothes. I'll help her."

She turned to leave, but Dad said, "Mr. Pinciotti thought my daughter's boyfriend would make a good model for his invention. I said, 'Boyfriend? Jackie's not dating anyone.' And Mr. Pinciotti said, 'Then why is she smooching and hugging that idiot Kelso all the time in my backyard?'"

"Daddy—"

"How long? The truth."

"I don't know … last spring?"

Dad uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in the chair. "You've hidden your relationship with him for almost a year?"

"What's a year in this town anyway?" She laughed; he didn't laugh with her. "Okay, but Michael's changed! He's not the lying cheater he used to be."

"Oh? So he's honest about it?"

"No!"

"So he's still a liar."

She clenched her fist at her hip. "I'm not a witness in a courtroom! Stop manipulating my words."

"You never used to talk back to me." Dad pushed himself up from the armchair. He was only five-foot-seven, three inches taller than her, but everyone who encountered him viewed him as six-feed-tall. "This is that go-nowhere kettlehead's doing."

"Actually—" Steven was the one who'd taught her how to stand up for herself—"Michael had nothing to do with it."

Dad sliced his hand through the air. "Unless you you end your relationship with him, I'm cutting you off from your charge cards, and you won't get one red cent from me."

"You can't do that!"

"Yes. I can," he said, but his expression softened. "I'm doing it for your own good, kitten. Michael hurt you before, so badly you became depressed." He sank back into the armchair. "Your grades have been slipping. I couldn't understand why because you used to get straight As, but now I do."

He shut his eyes and pressed on his temples. He was either extremely disappointed or getting a headache. "You're dumbing yourself down, afraid of making him feel inadequate."

She had a response, but her voice caught in her throat.

"I could've married any vapid woman as pretty as your mother." He pointed to a framed picture of Mom on the side table. "But your mother's not only beautiful. She's smart and independent. … Sweetheart, you deserve a man who raises you up, not one you think you have to lower yourself for."

Blood rushed into Jackie's face. "But I love him!"

"How can you love someone who's made you frightened to be yourself?"

"He hasn't done that."

"Hasn't he?"

"No!" She patted the center of her chest. "I'm 'talking back' to you, aren't I? Being myself by telling you how I truly feel."

"You're living in a fantasy world. It's time you get a dose of reality." He removed his wallet from his slacks pocket, made a show of how much money was inside, the credit cards. Then he placed the wallet back into his pocket. "Unless you stop dating that imbecile, you'll be on your own financially—except for necessities like food. You have until tonight to break up with him."

"Oh, yeah? Well, when Mom gets home, we'll see about that."

She headed for the hallway. She had a date to prepare for, choosing the perfect skating outfit to keep her warm but not smother her beauty, but her dad said, "I spoke to your mother on the phone last night. We came up with this plan together. You have until Sunday to decide."

She screamed, a shriek torn from her soul. Her dad might've approached her, might've tried to speak, but she fled to her bedroom upstairs. This day was supposed to be about cute sweaters, cuddling, and kissing. Instead, her life was about to change completely.

Jackie caught Donna in the Formans' backyard. They were both going to the basement, and Jackie told Donna her predicament on the stone steps. The stairwell's retaining walls sheltered them from the January wind.

"Oh, my God, that's horrible," Donna said, laughter obscuring her last word.

"There's nothing funny about this!" Jackie said, but Donna reached the basement first in her chunky winter boots. Jackie couldn't match Donna's speed safely in her heeled shoes.

"The funniest thing happened to Jackie," Donna stated as Jackie hurried into basement. Michael and Eric were seated on the top edge of the sofa. Steven was in his chair, and Jackie clutched her purse strap. She wished she could hold onto it and Michael, but nothing could protect her from the chill of what she had to say. Not even her expensive faux-fur coat.

"Michael, my parents found out we're back together. And if we don't break up, they'll never give me any money ever again."

He stared up at her from the sofa. "Hold on. They didn't know we were dating?"

"They think you're a bad influence on me—" she clutched her purse strap tighter, remembering all the nasty names her dad had called him—"so I kept our love a secret. And I have to decide between you and money by Sunday."

Donna, Eric, and Steven offered no sympathy. They butted in with unnecessary comments, and Donna went further, saying, "Hey, let's take a poll. Who thinks Jackie should keep Kelso?"

No one raised their hands. Michael was standing now, and his shocked expression matched what Jackie felt in her chest.

"The money?" Donna said, and she, Eric, and Steven raised their hands. Donna smiled with glee, like Jackie's dilemma brought her pleasure. The support Jackie had shown her, and continued to show, since she and Eric broke up apparently meant nothing.

"You guys," Jackie said but was glaring at Steven, "this isn't a joke."

"But it's funny like a joke," he said.

Donna's delight in Jackie's pain was obviously real, but Steven's could've been fake. He'd once told her she could do better than Michael, confessed he'd tried to make her and Michael fight after they'd gotten back together. So maybe he was hiding his empathy; he rarely displayed it in public anyway. Or he did view her and Michael as entertaining buffoons.

Regardless, his and Donna's opinions weren't important. Neither was Eric's, and Jackie returned her attention to Michael.

"How do I choose between something that makes my whole life complete," she said, anguish pinching her voice, "and you?"

He gazed at her sadly. "Well, I don't know, baby, but I love you."

Tingles excited her stomach. He hadn't demanded she choose him. He simply told her his feelings.

"Oh, Michael, I love you, too," she blurted without thought, but she was certain of what she wanted. "Okay, I choose love. I choose love!"

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he hugged her waist, lifting her off her feet. Groans of disgust rose in the background, but Michael's joy was palpable. He whispered, "Aw!" in her ear and lowered her to the floor, and her grin was so wide it hurt her cheeks.

"Yeah, aw!" She grasped his hands, but her grin faded. The memory of her dad's vanishing wallet flashed through her mind. "Okay, now get a job because I need a ton of money."

Michael's hands grew heavy in hers. He seemed confused, but he had to get unconfused fast. Any man worthy of her love would provide for her financially.

Jackie paced the Formans' basement, waiting for Michael. She'd gone straight there from cheer practice. A week had passed since she'd chosen love, and a lot happened during that week. She was running low on the cash from her bedroom safe. With no access to her checking account or credit cards, she made sacrifices on quality beauty products. She read gossip and women' magazines bought by Donna, with the quizzes filled in with Donna's indelicate scrawl.

Donna was reading one of those magazines while Jackie paced. They were alone, and Donna sat on the sofa silently, as if Jackie's life wasn't in jeopardy.

Michael had struggled every day after school to get a job. On Saturday, he went to Wilson & Son Mufflers, but the shop had only two positions, and they were filled by Mr. Wilson and his son.

On Sunday, Michael tried Fatsoburger. A waste of time, which he should've known. Jackie's dad owned that fast-food chain, and every store from Point Place to Kenosha had a photo of Michael behind the counter with the words Do Not Hire written underneath.

On Monday, Michael asked Mr. Forman to hire him at PriceMart. Due the industrial film fiasco, Mr. Forman refused to hire Michael for anything again.

As of today, Friday, Michael was still jobless. Jackie's hair had split ends from the generic conditioner she was forced to buy. Her skin had visible acne because her cover-up was running out. She was getting desperate, but Michael finally arrived in the basement.

"Well?" she said.

He draped his jacket beside hers on the hooks by the back door. "Bombed. I interviewed at the mall's new store called The Cheese Palace, but they said I wasn't what they were looking for."

"I don't understand." She reached toward his face and stroked his cold cheek. "Anyone would buy cheese from you. You're so handsome!"

"That's the problem. They want a cheese maiden, and I'm a guy."

"You should sue," Donna said and put down her magazine. "That's sexist discrimination. Put a little makeup on you, and you're Jaclyn Smith."

"Thank you!" Michael plunked on the armrest of the couch. "I told them that exact thing. I'm not just handsome. I'm man-pretty, but the owner said he'd really prefer a girl for the job."

Jackie was a girl. The prettiest one in town, and the mall would close in less than an hour.

She grabbed her jacket by the back door, ditched basement, and dashed to the closest bus stop.

The next afternoon, Jackie was offering cheese samples to passers-by in the mall. She'd interviewed at The Cheese Palace herself yesterday and, unlike Michael, was hired. Being a cheese maiden required her to wear an orange-and-white dirndl. To spout rhyming puns about cheese: "The Gouda is so good-a ..." and pretend not to be humiliated by both

For money … and for love.