Hey guys! I am back from the land of examinations and once again, I've decided to warm up with a chapter about Valentine before I get stuck into the rest of what I've got planned. I hope you've all been well! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter. I'm so glad you enjoyed it and I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to reply to you all. The ending of BotB kinda consumed the months shortly after I published this so that took precedence. I appreciate it a lot though!
This particular chapter is also set before the events of BotB. At the beginning of that, Jonathan has just turned 18 so this is a couple of years beforehand.
I'll let it speak for itself.
Disclaimer: I do not own TMI or any of its characters, though I find it unnervingly natural to write from the point of view of a middle-aged father of two.
Valentine's Talk
"It's time," Jocelyn said, placing a hand on Valentine's shoulder. "You have to talk to him."
Valentine sighed. It was the eve of Jonathan's sixteenth birthday and as all fathers must do for their sons, it was now his turn to impart his worldly wisdom unto the unruly teenager.
Except, Valentine didn't really want to.
He had no issues at all with teaching important life lessons, such as the need for persistence and rationality – in fact, as an outstanding pillar of the community he felt it was only right to pass on his legacy – but there were certain things he wasn't ready for his own son to pass on. Just yet.
At least, not until he could be sure that Jonathan had inherited some of the valuable Morgenstern traits, though he wasn't showing any signs of them thus far. His white-blonde hair and chiselled features could have fooled those in his home country, but as soon as Jonathan opened his mouth, it was clear to anyone that he did not possess the authority or conviction of his father. He slouched, he slammed doors, he grunted in answer when called and, perhaps the most distasteful of all, he constantly found himself in detention.
The first time Valentine had been called into school, his shoulders drooped with the shame of birthing such an impertinent youth. Jonathan was five years old at the time and he'd spent the whole day stealing crayons from the school supply and planting them in his classmates' backpacks. The school had called the Morgensterns because initially, they were completely baffled. Jonathan kept no crayons for himself and he'd even targeted his best friend, Jace. There was no clear motive, no clear pattern. It was chaos.
Valentine knew from that moment he was dealing with something else altogether. His son was – though it pained him to admit it – a disturber of the peace. He caused trouble simply for the joy of it and despite all of Valentine's best attempts to keep him in check, he always resisted. Occasionally his mother would be able to rein him in, but even that was an uncertainty.
But still, Valentine did not lose hope. For every rule Jonathan broke, every child he brought to tears, Valentine doubled his efforts. Luckily his youngest, Clarissa, was a fine and obedient daughter who seemed to understand her father completely, so Valentine could afford to spend more time on conditioning Jonathan. If it didn't work, he'd just have to leave everything for Clary to inherit instead.
She may have been ginger, but these things can sometimes skip a generation.
Valentine squared his shoulders now as he stood outside of his son's bedroom door. Jocelyn was right, he had to talk to him. He knew only too well how Morgenstern men behaved and whether or not Jonathan displayed the characteristics of his ancestors, in this, he was certain to feel the same. Valentine brought his fist up to the door and gave it a single, proud knock.
He never saw the need in knocking more than once. If a person heard all three raps, by logic they must have heard the first. Otherwise, they would only have heard two raps. Why expend energy for the sake of rhythmic satisfaction?
Valentine waited patiently, his arms crossed behind his back and the package he'd kept for so many years dangling from one of his wrists.
There was no answer.
"Jonathan," he said, keeping his voice level.
Still no answer.
"Son," he said, a little more forcefully this time.
His hands twitched. Despite himself, he knocked on the door once again. It rattled in its frame.
"Jonathan!"
Silence.
Valentine sighed, moving away from the door. He tried to hide his relief as he turned to face his wife, who was watching from the other end of the corridor.
"It seems he's not in. What a shame. Perhaps I'll try again tomorrow."
"Val," Jocelyn snapped. "He walked past us not five minutes ago. Try again."
"But-"
"Valentine."
"Fine!" Valentine huffed, knocking on the door repeatedly in his frustration. "Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, I swear on all that is Swiss and holy that if you do not let me in right now I'll-"
"What?" The door flew open, revealing his floppy-haired son. He stood a few inches shorter than his father, but Valentine knew that would change soon enough. Children these days grew with unnatural speed. It would only be a matter of time before his daughter exceeded her five feet. "Did you call?"
"Did I call?" Valentine gasped. "Did I call!?"
"Well, did you?" Jonathan looked confused, blowing long pale hair out of his eyes.
"Did you not hear my first knock?"
"I had my headphones in," his son shrugged.
Valentine shuddered, glaring at the contraption around his son's neck. Headphones. Another unnatural thing. How could one be aware of his surroundings and prepared for all eventualities if he deprived himself of one of his senses? If it weren't for the fact that Jonathan's music was far more intolerable when played out loud, he would have confiscated those things a long time ago. Sometimes one had to pick the lesser of two evils.
"So, did you want something?"
"I wanted…well, I…" Valentine glanced at his wife once more. She gave him an encouraging nod. "Can we talk, son?"
"I don't know, can we?"
It will pass, Valentine told himself, trying to keep calm. His son always seemed to have a smart answer for everything and since he'd hit his teenage years, he'd constantly pushed Valentine's boundaries further than he'd ever done before.
"Jonathan, please. Can I come in?"
"I don't know, can-"
Valentine shouldered past his son, not waiting for a reply. The room was pitch black, Jonathan having painted all of his walls without his parents' permission and the only light emanated from the glow of his laptop. It highlighted the faces of the band posters on his wall, twisting their features into gruesome sneers. Valentine resisted the urge to shudder again as he flipped the light switch on. The faces on the walls looked even more terrible when you could actually see them. Piercings and tattoos and unkempt hair. Perhaps that's why Jonathan always kept it so dark.
"Ugh, Dad!" Jonathan groaned, shielding his eyes from the sudden onslaught.
Valentine paid him no mind as he stalked up to the double bed and perched on the side of it that looked the least dirty. He patted the sheets down beside him, shaking off biscuit crumbs and tried to ignore the many pairs of boxer shorts and socks that lay strewn about the place.
"Come sit down, son."
Jonathan didn't seem to have the same problems as his father as he jumped onto the bed, something crackling beneath him. He pulled out a half-empty packet of crisps and grinned, offering them to Valentine.
"None for me, thank you, Jonathan," Valentine grimaced, leaning away. "I'm quite full."
"Suit yourself," Jonathan shrugged, before taking out a handful and munching on them. "So what did you want to talk about?"
Valentine sat up straighter, eyeing the package that was still tied around his wrist.
"Tomorrow is the sixteenth anniversary of your birth, correct?"
"So I've been told," Jonathan rolled his eyes. "I can't really remember it. You should know, you were there."
"I was indeed," Valentine nodded, casting his mind back to the day Jocelyn had brought his first-born into the world. Valentine had shed a tear as he'd set eyes upon the little bundle, wisps of white-blonde Morgenstern hair resting on its head.
'My son,' he'd announced proudly. 'You will bring honour to the Morgenstern name.'
Valentine watched his son now, wiping Dorito dust from his mouth and managing to stain some of that precious hair in the process.
It will pass.
"As I was saying," he continued. "Tomorrow you shall be sixteen, a man by most accounts." He used the term 'man' loosely. "And as your father, it's necessary that I help make that transition as efficient as possible for you."
"Are you giving me money?" His son asked, perking up for the first time.
"No," he shook his head. "I'm giving you something far more valuable."
"A new drum kit?"
"More valuable than that, even," Valentine said, though he had been looking into whether silent drums existed. That would be a gift to the entire neighbourhood.
"What's more valuable than…"
"Wisdom!" Valentine cried, exasperated. "I'm offering you wisdom."
"That's okay," Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "I'll just take the new drum kit instead."
"Jonathan, this isn't easy for me as it is and you're only making it harder!"
"Sorry," his son mumbled, his expression guarded. "Go on." Valentine rarely admitted his own weaknesses in any capacity, so whatever he had to say, it must have been important.
Valentine coughed and tried again.
"You see, there comes a point in a man's life when he becomes somewhat more…aware of his surroundings. His emotions become heightened, difficult to control."
Jonathan looked on wide-eyed.
"And it is during this time that it falls upon an authority figure, usually the boy's father – though I would happily have stepped aside for your mother if she hadn't forced me to come in – to pass on their knowledge and experience so that the process is less daunting. In my own case, I have had a lot of experience and that is why I am talking to you today. Before, you had the good arm of the law to keep you disciplined, but from tomorrow, the responsibility will fall directly onto you. From tomorrow, you must practice your own restraint."
Jonathan scrambled to the other side of the bed.
"No," he shook his head. "No, no, no! We're not talking about this!"
"Jonathan, it is necessary!"
"No!" Jonathan dived under his pillows, clutching them about his head.
"Jonathan!" Valentine sighed, grabbing at his son's flailing feet. "Son, listen to me!"
The pillows shook violently as Jonathan protested once again.
"JO-NA-THAN!" Valentine wheezed, managing to get a tight hold of his right foot and yanking backwards with all his strength. Jonathan may have been growing rapidly, but he still had the lanky frame of a teenager and didn't have enough muscle to resist. His son slid across the bed, his head still buried under a mountain of pillows and exposed a trail of various snacks and empty drink cans behind him. "IF YOU HEAR ME OUT I WILL BUY YOU A NEW DRUM KIT!"
And just like that, Jonathan ceased to struggle. He threw the pillows off his head and sat up cross-legged.
"I'm listening."
"Good," Valentine caught his breath. Of course, he hadn't meant straight away. Jonathan often missed technicalities, but now would not be the time to bring that up. Yes, he'd buy Jonathan a new drum kit. But not right now. He had such a tendency to destroy anything he'd ever been presented with; he'd have to earn the right to own new equipment. Valentine would start small. A new set of drumsticks maybe, just to keep him at bay. He'd have to wait until he was at least eighteen for some new cymbals, those things were expensive. After that, he could fend for himself. "Very good."
"You were saying…" Jonathan kept his features perfectly composed. For a new drum kit, he would have done anything, even if it meant being uncharacteristically mature for five minutes. His band, Mallard Massacre, was finally starting to meld together and he felt it was time for the next step. They wanted to go out and perform, but for that, he'd need more than the tinny little kit he currently owned.
"Yes, I was saying that at this age, young men learn what their purpose on this world really is. Their bodies teach them of this purpose and their instincts work to accommodate it. The purpose I speak of is, naturally, procreation."
Valentine felt that the best way to deliver this talk was to be as objective and indifferent as possible.
"What's your point, Dad?"
"My point is that unfortunately, we Morgenstern men are very suited for survival. The universe is so eager for our bloodline to continue that it has made us incredibly fertile. Our drives are more potent than others and we must therefore work even harder to keep our gears in neutral."
"Actually, I changed my mind!" Jonathan began to edge away. His face had taken on a peculiar greenish hue. Metaphors were where he drew the line. "Keep the drum kit."
"Jonathan, this is important! It's not our fault, but it is our duty to practice restraint. After all, the Morgenstern name cannot be passed on if our offspring are not legitimate."
"Dad…"
"You may breed as much as you like, Jonathan, but only once you are married."
"Dad, please!" Jonathan brought his knees up to his chest and began to rock back and forth. He looked pained. "Stop."
"But until then, it falls upon me to teach you how to control yourself."
"I hate you…" Jonathan groaned, burying his face.
"Excellent," Valentine praised. "Pushing the female away with a display of malice can be very effective."
"I hate you, specifically."
"Even better, making her feel isolated. Alone. Though some strange ones feed off of that."
"Father, I hate you."
"Now, there's no need to take this out on our Creator," Valentine clicked his tongue. "He made us this way, but lust is the work of Lucifer."
Jonathan gave up and flopped back onto the bed.
"I wish only to help you, Jon. I married your mother early, which meant that I did not have to hold back for long, but until that time, I fought with the same demons. I was as weak as any man in the presence of a beautiful woman. And your mother, she was the most beautiful of them all."
Jonathan let out a pain-filled whine.
"I know, it is shocking," Valentine nodded gravely. "A man such as myself should have no weakness, but this is why I am telling you this. It's okay to admit your feelings, Jonathan, for one cannot control what one hasn't accepted to be real. In my own case, whenever I felt the rush of hormones begin to claim me, I thought of your grandmother, Seraphina-"
"Oh my god, DAD!" Jonathan keened mournfully. "That's so wrong, no!"
"If you'd let me finish!" Valentine snapped. "What is it with kids these days? You're all so impatient. It's technology, that's what it is! All your XStations and your PS-Wiis, making you jittery and paranoid; the internet, filling your impressionable brains with mindless tat."
Jonathan appeared to twitch spasmodically, confirming his thoughts.
"What I was about to say," Valentine repeated, attempting to sound calmer. "Is that I would think of your grandmother, Seraphina Morgenstern, and what she had told me. 'Son,' she would say. 'Life is like an apple.' At first I used to believe she was referring to the forbidden fruit of Eden, but as I grew older, I understood the true meaning. And so now I will tell you what I had to work out for myself. Son," Valentine said, taking on a wistful tone. "Life is like an apple. From the outside it tempts you, succulent and red."
"Not all apples are red," Jonathan pointed out.
"Fine," Valentine groaned. "Life is like a Gala apple."
"Or Red Delicious."
"LIFE IS LIKE AN APPLE," Valentine yelled suddenly, stunning Jonathan into silence. "From the outside it tempts you, succulent and red. It draws you in with its smooth curves and promise of refreshment. It hypnotises us, so that at times, we may lose the privilege of judgement, and despite ourselves, we take a bite. Sometimes we are not disappointed. The apple is just as delicious as we thought it would be and next time, we practice even less caution. But sometimes, we will bite into that apple and find that it is rotten and be-wormed."
"I'm pretty sure that's not a word."
"And I'm pretty sure I earn most of the money in this house."
"Only pretty sure?" Jonathan quirked his eyebrow, then shut up again when Valentine gave him the deadliest glare he'd seen in a long time.
"However, if we practice restraint, if we take the apple and cut it through before we take that bite, we may determine whether or not it is in our best interests to proceed with consumption. We may understand the true nature of the apple and through that, the true nature of our own satisfaction."
"So you're saying girls have worms and I should cut them open?"
"Not literally!" Valentine smacked his forehead. "It's a metaphor, Jonathan!"
"Simile, actually," Jonathan smirked. "You said life is like an apple. If it was a metaphor, you would have said life is an apple."
"You want a metaphor, son? Okay, how about you are a brainless toad!"
"Touché, Dad. Though, I'll have you know that I washed my hair just three days ago, so if it's the whole slimy thing you're going for, it doesn't work."
"It didn't matter what I tacked on at the end. It was the 'brainless' thing I was going for. I handed you the knowledge on a plate, Jonathan!" The older Morgenstern sighed, gazing at the ceiling. He hoped it wouldn't be this hard when Clarissa came of age. "I'm saying that the female species are tricky and that it is the inner beauty that matters the most, so must take our time to get to know them before we act on our instincts. We must not let ourselves fall prey to seductive sirens, for they may be rotten within. Also, yes, some of them do have worms."
"Right, well," Jonathan sat up. "Thanks for that, Dad. I'm sure your advice will be burned into my memory forever."
"Oh, I'm not done."
"No?" His son moaned.
"No," Valentine shook his head and brought out the package he'd been carrying. "There are times when our sense and conviction is not enough to prevail, and in those times, we must take necessary precautions."
Jonathan eyed the little box warily as his father placed it between them.
"Such as this." Valentine flipped the lid and removed a thin, silver object.
"A triangle!?"
"A triangle," Valentine confirmed, holding the instrument out in front of him. He looked upon it fondly, remembering simpler days. "When I found that my desire was too great, I thought it helpful to focus my concentration on other things, like music. I chose the triangle in particular because of the purity of its tone. I hoped that its clean, heavenly sound would inspire the same spirituality within me."
"Are you serious?"
"Very much so. Watch." Valentine raised the beater and with an exaggerated motion, he tapped it against the gleaming steel. He then closed his eyes, listening to the brightness of its chime and how the sound reverberated through the air. He let it consume him, losing himself in that single note and exhaling only when it began to fade away.
Valentine opened his eyes. Jonathan sat opposite him, dumbstruck.
"Wasn't that beautiful?"
"Quite."
"Now you try," Valentine said, ignoring his son's sarcasm and passing the sacred instrument to him. After instructing him in the proper way to hold it, he made Jonathan repeat the process of hitting it again and again until he was satisfied with his technique. "Do you see how this will help? By focussing on the note of the triangle, you may learn to control your emotions and harness them in a way that is far more pleasing to your mother."
"Great, can I go now?"
"There's just one more thing." Valentine pulled out the other item in his box.
A mobile phone.
One so old that Jonathan didn't even recognise its make.
"What am I going to do with that thing? Throw it at seductive sirens?"
"No. As a last resort, if the words of my mother fail you, the music of the triangle cannot restrain you and you find yourself on the brink of temptation, you will call me."
"For what!?"
"So I can stop you! My number is programmed in the speed dial."
"This thing has a speed dial?" Jonathan turned it over in his hands, still not believing his father actually meant what he said. As if he'd call him.
"Jonathan, this is important."
"How long do I have to keep this?"
"Until such time that someone needs it more than you." Namely, his sister. Valentine despised having to resort to technology. Though in this he deemed it necessary, he'd be damned if he'd have to buy more than one.
Jonathan would keep the phone until Clarissa needed it more.
Though, since Clary was such a good child, Valentine doubted that would be within the next decade. She was more focussed on her studies than she was on boys. As she should be.
"Are we done now?" Jonathan asked, placing both the triangle and the phone to the side of him. There was a light sheen of sweat coating his forehead.
"Yes, but-"
Valentine never got to finish his sentence, because Jonathan had bolted out of his room faster than he'd ever seen his son run before.
"Jonathan?" Valentine scooped up the 'items of restraint' and followed him out. "You forgot your-" He paused outside the bathroom door as he heard the sounds of retching coming from within.
That was another thing he really had to deal with.
His son's stomach was far too weak. In fact, he was surprised he'd made it through the entire talk without vomiting all over the bed.
Valentine shook his head and left the triangle and the phone on the floor.
"Right, well. Good talk, eh, son? Good talk. Yes."
He walked away, muttering to himself.
Next time, Jocelyn was definitely taking care of it.
Poor thing, he had no idea what was to come.
As for the apple thing, don't ask. I'm not sure where I pulled that out from, though I may tell it to my kids one day. Seems pretty legit.
And regarding 'bewormed' - can we please make that into a real word? If dewormed is a thing, I feel it is only right for bewormed to have a place in the english language. How cool is it to say, 'my apple is bewormed' or 'my garden is bewormed' or even (unfortunate though it may be) 'I am bewormed'!? I will fight for this.
Right, so. Please let me know what you thought! I'm still reeling from the events of COHF so I needed to get straight back to writing and this scene made its way into my head first. I'll be getting to work on the BotB outtakes soon, but for once, something else will take priority over them. That something is my NEW FULL-LENGTH! I've got it almost entirely planned out and I'm really excited to share this one with you guys.
So yeah, watch this space.
Not this space, specifically. But like, watch my account. Things will be happening.
Thanks again for reading :)
Till the next time...
smim xx
