Chapter 23: Michelle Harker

[Jeanette's POV:]

There aren't many things I would do over if I had the chance. I believe that what we go through changes us, and if we were to talk back any of it, we wouldn't be the same people. But if I could take back how I've treated my sister, how horribly cold and judgmental I've been toward her, I would.

I was waiting to meet Michelle outside the small, family-owned-and-run diner she worked at, hoping to catch her for just a moment on one of her fifteen-minute breaks. I hadn't realized she had gotten a job near the library I worked at, and I wanted a chance to see her again. I had already apologized over our brief, awkward phone call, but I wanted to do so again, in person, so she knew I was sincere. As it stood, however, things did not seem like she would be exiting the diner any time soon. Bracing myself, I sucked in a breath and walked inside. It was a dingy little place with a somewhat gloomy atmosphere, and I was given to the impression the only customers present were regulars that had been probably been coming there for years.

What a dingy place. Years ago, Michelle would have died before ever setting foot in here.

"Sit anywhere ya like, hon." A surly middle-aged, heavyset woman said, brushing her wispy blonde ponytail over her shoulder in irritation as she squinted between two of her menus.

"A-actually," I replied, "I was just here to see if Michelle had a moment to talk?"

The woman glared at me skeptically. "Yeah. Who's askin'?" She demanded, clearing the back of her throat like she was preparing to hack up phlegm and spit it at me. I had to resist the temptation to be just as rude back to her. After all, I was there for a good reason.

"I'm her sister," I answered, "Jeanette."

The woman's eyes immediately went wide, and I heard shifting as some of the diner's regulars turned to look at me, their expressions expectant. I glanced at a few of them, a chill running down my spine, my stomach twisting in apprehension.

"Hold on a second." The woman said, the sour tone gone from her voice as she turned and yelled through the window into the kitchen. "Michelle! Get your tuckus front and center, girl! You've got a special visitor!"

There was some scrambling and gentle crashing of dishes, followed by a voice I knew well.

"coming, I'm coming!" My sister call, and a moment or two later a side door opened, and she bustled out, straightening her white apron, apologizing hastily for being so slow. Then a second later she looked up and saw me, her jaw dropping. "Jeanette?!"

"H-hey, Michelle." I mumbled, idly swinging my hands at my sides, unsure whether or not I ought to hug her. But in a moment, I had little choice, as she surged forward and flung her arms around my neck, starting to cry. Awkwardly, I hugged her back, blinking.

"Jen, you didn't have to come here!"

"I-I wanted to," I answered shakily, trying to avoid looking at anyone, "I just wanted to tell you I was sorry...i-in person. I felt horrible just apologizing to you over the phone. I felt that wasn't sincere enough."

She pulled away from me slightly, her eyes red and puffy, and I squeezed her shoulders, on the verge of tears myself.

"Michelle, I'm sorry," I said, taking a deep breath, "I am so, so sorry for the way I've treated you over the last several years. I was stupid and angry and I jumped to conclusions rather than hearing out your side of the story. Please, let me try to earn your forgiveness—"

She hugged me again, cutting me off.

"Jen, I already forgave you. Thank you, thank you for coming back to me." She sobbed, and this time, I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Of course, Michelle." I answered, trying to keep my own voice from breaking. "You're my sister."

Someone began clapping. Then the clapping grew a little louder. I glanced up. The other diner employees and the regulars were applauding and smiling, some of them with tears in their eyes. The sight stole my breath, and I felt a different sort of weight upon my heart. Had they all known? I knew my sister had a way of endearing herself to people after a while, and it wouldn't have surprised me if her co-workers and customers all knew a lot about her. But had she told them about the rift between us? Had she spent years telling them she wanted to reconnect with me? Was that why they were clapping for us?

Michelle gave me another squeeze before she pulled back again, and despite the tears on her eyes, her smile lit up her face.

"My sister Jeanette, everyone." She said by way of awkward introduction, sniffling slightly. "I've got my sister back."

I glanced around, feeling my face flush, and was incredibly grateful when the middle-aged woman with the ponytail dismissed Michelle for ten minutes to speak with me. My sister pulled me to a booth in the very back of the diner, insisting that I take a seat.

"Do you want something?" She asked, wiping tears from her eyes. "Coffee? A soda? Can I get you a piece of pie?"

"No, thank you." I answered hastily, feeling rather ungainly at that moment. "I wouldn't want you to waste your break getting me something."

She looked for a moment as though she would insist on arguing the matter, but then she sighed, smiled weakly, and took the booth seat opposite mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke. I folded my hands in my lap and studied the surface of the table. I had apologized, but now what was I to do? I hadn't been expecting to get a window of time to really speak with her; That had been more of a wistful hope than anything. Abruptly, Michelle cleared her throat and I looked up at her again.

"S-so..." She mumbled, twiddling her thumbs. "You're working at the library now?"

I nodded, then gestured half-heartedly. "And...you're working here? I would not have believed a place like this to be your speed." I replied, and she smiled in a wistfully sad way.

"Things change." She murmured softly.

I managed a smile back.

"Speaking of a change," she sighed, "I broke up with my boyfriend. A couple of years ago actually."

"You did?!" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. "I thought the two of you were—"

She cut me off with a shake of her head. "The concept of marriage didn't suit Bryan all that well. We always talked about it in high school, but I don't believe he thought I was serious. Then, when I made it clear that I was serious, he bailed on me, and I found I was much happier for it. I felt free. I decided it was time I stopped depending on him and on Mom, and to make my own way. I wound up here, and to be honest, Jeanette, I'm thankful for it."

I couldn't say anything to that. She was so...sincere. She meant every word of it. She hardly sounded anything like the Michelle I remember growing up with.

"But look at me, just babbling on and on," she muttered, waving a hand dismissively, "I'm probably boring you to tears. That, if anything, would be a waste of time."

"No, Michelle, you're not. It's fine."

She gave me a sly smile, and there was an old, familiar twinkle in her eye.

"Don't lie to me, Jen. I'm boring you, admit it." She said briskly, and, not giving me an opening to reply, "I take it Mom called you?"

"Yes." I answered sourly. "Though thanks to her, here we now sit. I wasn't sure...that we would ever talk to one another again, just you and I."

Her expression softened.

"I hoped we would. Honestly, I was afraid to say anything to you, Jen. Afraid of being judged. But I kept praying for a miracle to happen."

"Well then, I daresay your prayers were answered."

"Yeah," she tilted her head to the side, eyes glassy for a moment, before she raised her eyebrows at me. "So, who's this man you met?"

I jerked my head. What in the name of Jane Austen?

"Don't lie to me!" She said, waggling an accusing finger. "I can tell you met a guy, and you can't hide from your big sister! So who is he?"

"Don't change the subject, Michelle!" I spluttered. "We're not here to discuss my dating life, we're here to reconnect with one another!"

"Yes, and this is part of reconnecting." She insisted, looking utterly smug that she had countered my point. "So what's his name?"

I glared at her and mumbled.

"What, Jen? That didn't sound like a name to me."

I grumbled and let out a sigh. "Lance, Michelle. His name is Lance Pendragon."

Her eyes popped wide open.

"Lance Pendragon?" She blurted out. "Jeanette, how can you just say that so casually? He's Bruce Wayne's business rival!"

"What do you think that has to do with anything at all?" I returned. "I am positive there are many men in Gotham who are considered business rivals of Bruce Wayne."

"Jeanette, Lance Pendragon is wealthy and prestigious and comes from a really proud family line." She hissed back at me, half-leaning across the booth table. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have caught his attention?"

"We met because I fell off a step-ladder at work and he caught me."

"So? Whatever works! My point is, Jen, do you like him?"

I nodded without hesitation, my cheeks growing warm. I did like Mister Pendragon, all things considered. Lycanthropy and all, I liked him.

"Yes." I whispered back, looking down at the surface of the table again. "He's charming, intelligent, kind, handsome. What isn't there to like?"

"Are you two dating?"

"Sort of. I mean, we have gone on one 'date' to a coffee shop, then an...unofficial boat ride, and we have a dinner date set for Friday."

There was a sharp intake of breath and I knew I had no need to look up; I knew full well the sort of over-excited expression Michelle had, and braced myself for her inevitable scream of delight.

"Wait! Wait right here, don't move!" Her scream instead came out as a squeak, and before I could question her, she dashed around behind the counter and vanished through a door to the back room of the diner. I glanced at her boss, raising a questioning eyebrow, but she only shrugged helplessly back at me. But we didn't have long to wait; Michelle was back out in moments, skidding to a stop before the booth table and whipping something out from behind her back and spritzing me in the face with it.

"Wha—augh, Michelle!" I tried to spit the sudden taste of heavy, scented chemicals out of my mouth and raised my hands to shield my face.

"Oh, calm down, Jen." She shushed me. "It's just body spray. You never use anything even vaguely perfume-y. Hold still, I need to make sure you're sprayed evenly."

"You're going to get in trouble." I argued, twisting away as best as I could. "This has to violate some food safety rule!"

"I'm on break right now, remember?" She countered. "Ahh, there we go! Perfect! Now, that's sure to really grab Pendragon's attention!"

Considering that the smell was practically asphyxiating me, and that Mister Pendragon's lycanthropy meant his sense of smell was far stronger than any human's, I had a feeling my sister's body spray would probably frighten him off, if it didn't knock him unconscious first.

"Oh," I coughed, "Oh, I've no doubt of that."

"Here," she said with a genuine smile, handing me the bottle of body spray, "Go on, take it! Use it for your big date and think of me!"

"What? No, Michelle! No, this is yours!"

"Don't try to argue with me on this one, Jeanette! I'm your sister, and may pigs fly if this isn't something I'm going to let you do on your own. Take it, it's the least I could do for you. And don't worry about it, I can always get more."

My attempt at a plea fell silent. What in the world could I say to that? I partially wanted to refuse out of stubbornness, but Michelle was my sister, and despite my irritation, I was moved. This gift wasn't much, but it touched my heart. My throat constricted and I felt tears threatening to form. I had let years pass without talking to my sister, and now here we were, and the first thing she wanted to do was help me with my dating situation.

I leaned forward and shut my eyes tightly.

"You okay, sis? Are you sick?" She asked, concern in her voice.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. Hot tears began to roll down my cheeks, burning trails into my skin, and something loosened in my chest as I began to sob quietly.