CHAPTER 6
In answer to the question of whether or not I should wear a tie, Jack shrugged and said, "If you can find one you like that doesn't clash with the jacket, why not?" He then took his uniform down from the hook on which it had been hanging and followed me up the stairs.
"I think Dad had a plain brown one once upon a time," I said in reference to a tie. "Mind if I look for it?"
Jack shrugged again as we entered the master bedroom. "Help yourself," he said, as he laid the suit bag out on the bed and unzipped it, removing a set of clean underwear from what would've been the bottom of the bag if it had still been hanging up. Surprisingly enough, the shirt and the shorts were both white. "Just remember to put it back before you leave town."
"Hey, I'm not a kleptomaniac. I always return what I borrow," I said defensively, as I searched through Dad's closet.
"True," Jack admitted, as he removed his spare uniform, its accompanying shirt, and their respective hangers from the bag. "Sometimes it takes a few years, but you do eventually return things."
"When did I ever borrow anything from you and not return it right away?" I asked, finding a tie I thought might work and removing it from its hanger.
"My Boy Scout manual. You borrowed it when you became a Scout and didn't return it until you graduated from college." Jack laid each of his clothing items in a pile, with his jacket on the bottom and his underwear on top. The only thing missing was a pair of socks. He went to the dresser and searched for a pair of Dad's.
"So? You didn't need it anymore," I said in response to Jack's comment about the Scout manual. "What do you think? Is this tie the right shade of brown?" I held it up against the pants Jack had loaned me.
He tilted his head and looked at the tie and slacks thoughtfully. "It looks okay to me. . . Anyway, whether I needed the Scout manual again or not isn't the point."
"No, it isn't. The point is that you're always criticizing me for something."
"'Always' is a relative term—especially since we see so little of each other."
"But every time we do, you're on my case about something."
"Maybe because you're so thickheaded. It takes forever to get anything into your skull."
"You are the most insufferably conceited older brother any man could have the misfortune of laying claim to!" I ranted, shaking a finger at Jack.
He smiled impishly. "Gotcha!" Then he began to whistle while getting undressed. He took a suit hanger from Dad's closet and started hanging his used uniform jacket and tie on it.
Despite being distracted by my brother's actions, I was fuming; but I eventually found my voice again. "You deliberately baited me!"
"Yep; and you fell for it, too."
"Not anymore, bro; not anymore." I shook my head. "I don't know what in Hades Darla sees in you . . . ."
Jack turned serious then. "Maybe tonight you'll find out, Little Brother. You wondered earlier about our history—mine and Darla's. I'm going to bring it up tonight over dinner. I think we both need to be reminded of how that crush she had on me actually started. Sometimes the past can be a springboard to the future. I hope, in this case, that it will be."
"There's a part of me that, strictly out of habit, wants to say something snide in response to that statement. But your feelings for Darla are so sincere . . . saying something snide would be disrespectful to her; and I have nothing but the highest regard for that little lady—except when it comes to her feelings for you."
Jack looked at me, mildly amused. "Well, I'm glad we both agree that Darla deserves our respect and esteem, no matter what our issues with each other might be. But, FYI, I intend to be a regular Prince Charming around Darla tonight and try to win back whatever points I might've lost when I married Liz. . . You said it yourself, Mac: Darla obviously still has feelings for me; and I think it's time I reciprocated. So, until further notice, I'm calling a truce between you and me. All I wanna think about for the next—" he looked at his wristwatch "—six to eight hours is pleasing Darla." He unfastened his belt and tossed it to the bed. "I just hope you and Jamie hit it off: An uncomfortable silence between the two of you could really put a damper on the evening."
"I'll do my best to be sociable," I said in a somewhat gruff manner.
"Just let her do most of the talking," Jack advised me. "Darla says Jamie's very passionate about everything she's involved in. Just broach a subject and let her go. If she asks for your opinion, give it to her, but keep it short."
"And what makes you such an expert?" I asked.
Jack shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just telling you what Darla suggested. She's known Jamie her entire life. If the two of you hit it off right away and you think you might like to try to develop a relationship of some kind with her, it behooves you to follow the counsel of someone who knows what she's talking about."
I nodded. "Yeah, it does. I just thought—"
"You thought I was talking through my hat, I know." Jack sighed. "Bro, I wouldn't presume to advise you on what to do on a date—especially with someone I haven't even met yet."
"I appreciate that."
"No problem," Jack answered. He then turned to face me, which was a bit discomfiting, as he was, by this time, stark naked. "Although this is going to be a double date, I suggest we try to keep our conversations separate as much as possible. You and Jamie need time to get to know each other, and Darla and I need time to . . . reminisce. You're welcome to eavesdrop occasionally if you hear something interesting; but keep the comments to a minimum, please."
"I have no desire to intrude on anything . . . personal," I assured my brother. "But if, as you say, something interesting (that's not necessarily private or intimate) comes up, I may put in a word or two. Who knows? Even Jamie might like to ask a question now and then."
"She just might at that," Jack replied. "See you downstairs in a while." Then he entered the bathroom and closed the door.
