So, here is the next chapter of IWAALF. Because of all the things I need to sew up before this story ends, I've decided that I need one more chapter after this one. My goal is to have that last chapter posted around Thanksgiving, because that would fit, in a way.

I am planning a follow-up to this story that should debut in early 2009. Thank you all for reading and I'm glad that you are enjoying this ride.

It Was All About Love For

By: December

Chapter 8: Far Too Old to Care

Last time: "James, tell me what happened at Thanksgiving."

James took a deep breath. There was no more putting it off. No more just telling a story. At this point, it all turned personal and he couldn't pretend to be an objective third observer. He couldn't pretend that this didn't effect him or wasn't about him. That made continuing harder than he would like to admit, but he was the one who started this.

"Okay. As I – as I said earlier, I decided to go back to Canada for the U.S. Thanksgiving holiday. I flew out Wednesday afternoon, with no real destination in mind. Maybe I'd stay with my mother or with Nana Abby. Maybe I'd visit Harry's grave or maybe…maybe I'd go by the great Venturi's house."

"What made you want to see your father and his family?"

"I'm not sure I really expected to see them. Derek was huge by that point; I honestly thought he would have moved the most important women in his life to some swank place in Toronto. Or maybe to a quiet and secret place in Windsor."

"So why go by the house?"

"I…I really don't know. Maybe I wanted proof that they had moved on without me. Or maybe I wanted some kind of closure. I had always refused to talk about my time with them in rehab. Maybe I thought driving by the house would…do something, I guess," James ended with a shrug.

"Driving by?" Dr. Lawrence asked. "So you didn't plan to stop."

"Not initially. Not consciously. And I should have stayed with that original impulse."

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He didn't know why he was there. When the plane landed in Toronto, James knew he wasn't staying in that city. Part of him still associated Toronto with its drug culture and his drug past. So, he was always driving away from Toronto. He thought he'd end up in Windsor, possibly at the casino. Or that maybe he'd end up on his mother's doorstep, since she had moved to Sarnia.

He didn't think he'd end up parked in front of the house where he'd spent ten years of his life. Sure, it was "on the way" in a sense, to both Windsor and Sarnia, but there was no reason for him to stop there. He'd had to get off the Highway 401 to stop, after all.

The outside of the house hadn't changed much, James noticed as he sat in his rental car. The shutters were a different color than he remembered. The tree he'd used to sneak in and out of the house no longer had branches that reached to the windows of the house. A front porch swing had been added. But the rest of the house was the same. For some reason, that seemed to surprise him.

James got out of the car and closed the door. Venturi had made it big by that point. He'd probably moved. Well, maybe if James rang the doorbell, the new family might invite him in for tea.

Walking up to the door, James shook his head and himself. He was really going to bother these people for closure? He wouldn't have done this if he'd lived in the States at ten. Of course, people in the States tended to lock their doors and shoot trespassers, not give them tours of the house because they used to live there. But he was on the front steps now. Oh well.

Ringing the doorbell, James waited for an answer. He heard a muffled feminine voice shout, 'I've got it," before the door opened to a teenage girl.

The teenager at the door was a typical one in many ways, even though the way she was staring at him probably wasn't. She was wearing the latest style, another throwback to the 1980s – and he blamed Imani that he even knew that. The teenager was tall, only a little shorter than James six feet. She had wavy reddish-brown hair and blue eyes, which were still really wide with shock. She hadn't spoken since she'd open the door. Did he look that strange? James didn't think so. Sure the jeans and sweatshirt were a little rumpled from the drive after the plane ride, but surely he didn't look frightening?

Thinking he should say something to the poor teenage girl, he pushed his blond hair out of his face, a nervous habit he had, and said, "Um…I'm sorry to bother you. I was just driving through. I used to live here years ago. I wonder if-"

Whatever else James would have awkwardly gotten out was cut off as the teenager's face quickly moved from shock to pure joy. Letting go of the door, she practically tackled him with a hug. "Oh, my God," she whispered into his chest. "It's you, Mikey, isn't it? It's really you. I missed you so much!"

Being called Mikey confused James. He almost said that the girl had mistaken him for someone else, until he remembered that a lot of people in that area would have known him as Mike or Mikey. It had just been years since he'd thought of himself that way. The hug, however, really baffled James. Was this the little sister of someone he was in school with? But that didn't make sense. He wasn't popular enough that any little sisters would know who he was.

"Excuse me," James looked down at the teenager trying to squeeze him to death, "but…do I know you?"

At that point, another feminine voice, probably belonging to the clinging girl's mother, began to move toward the door. "Emily? Invite whoever it is in, before your father invites himself out," the woman laughed.

James stared at the teen attached to him in shock. It couldn't be. "Emily? Emily Venturi?"

Before the teenager could reply, James heard a second, "Oh…my God. Mike? Is that really you?"

Looking up from the girl trying to squeeze him to death, he saw an older woman in the door. In some ways, she didn't look that different from when he'd first seen her over sixteenth years ago. Her brown hair was a little shorter and did have a touch of gray in it, although James couldn't tell if that was natural or bottle gray. She also had a look of shock on her face. Shock and disbelief. To be fair, James thought, this was probably a nightmare of hers.

"Mrs. Venturi," James acknowledged the woman he'd called Casey for years as a child and teen.

"Is there any particular reason why everyone is clumped around the door?" a voice that James had not expected to hear when he started his journey uttered. "If it's that worthless guy that been trying to talk to our daughter-"

"Adam is not worthless, Daddy!" Emily objected from her position on the porch. Apparently, discussing her boyfriend was enough to get her to loosen her death grip on James, but she still didn't let go.

By this point, the great Venturi had made it to the door himself. James felt himself stiffen as this older version of his father stared at him for what felt like forever. A lot of things seemed to fly across his face before he said, "Okay, you are at least twenty-two years old-"

"Twenty-seven," James interrupted the coming rant. He had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Surely he wasn't disappointed that Venturi didn't recognize him? Although, something odd did pass across Venturi's face when James shared his age.

"Derek…it's Michael," Casey Venturi said quietly.

There was silence for a few moments. An unreadable expression was on Venturi's face and his eyes narrowed in James' direction. The, he suddenly turned and said, "More reason for everyone to come in the house and not clump around an open door." The pronouncement was obviously enough for Venturi because he began to walk back into the house. His wife followed.

James might have stayed where he was if an excited Emily hadn't pulled him into the house. "Driving through, you said?" she asked with a smile, "Are you nearby?"

"No," James found he couldn't not answer the perky teen, "I flew into Toronto."

"Then that's your rental out in front? The Taurus? I bet your bag is in the trunk."

"In the passenger seat, actually, but-"

"I'll go get it," Emily let him go with a wink as she held up the keys she must have pulled out of his pocket. Then she rushed out the door.

"But-" James started to stop her, even though she was long gone before he'd realized what had happened, much less gotten any words out.

"If you drove straight from Toronto, you must be tired," Venturi's wife observed from where she was standing in the foyer. "Why don't you come in the living room and rest while Emily grabs your stuff?"

James found himself nodding and following Casey Venturi into the living room. It was like déjà vu all over again, following Casey through the house when he felt uncertain about his place and what was happening. He felt like he was eight again…without the chocolate chip pancakes.

When he entered the living room, he noticed Venturi was there, looking decidedly uncomfortable. His arms were folded and he had positioned himself so that he was blocking some case, which looked like it held awards and photographs. Did Venturi think that James would vandalize something?

Casey indicated that James could sit on the sofa, but the young man found himself walking to the mantle over the fire place. It was covered with pictures, mostly of Emily, Casey and Derek…but there were two on the mantle that surprised James.

The first was a family photo taken when he was fifteen. Emily was on his lap, smiling at the camera like the very happy five year old she was. Derek and Casey Venture stood behind the seated children. Derek had his right hand on his son's shoulder and his left arm around Casey. Casey was position in a similar way on the other side. James didn't understand why that picture was displayed at first, until he thought about it. Emily was in the picture, after all.

But there was another picture displayed, taken when James was eight, before Emily was even a thought. The entire Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team had crowded around Derek and his son for the photo. Why in the world did Venturi display that picture? Surely he had another picture of him and the hockey team that didn't include James…or he could get one.

So lost in thought, James only heard the tail end of a question that was directed his way, "…wasn't it, Michael?"

"Huh?" James turned to see a still uncomfortable Venturi and his wife desperately trying to make conversation. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Venturi. I didn't hear you."

"I was just asking about your trip," Casey Venturi replied. "And…you can call be Casey, Michael."

"I'm a little more comfortable with Mrs. Venturi," James shared. He told himself that the twist he felt in his stomach was not due the way Casey Venturi's face fell at his response. "And, it's James."

"What's James?" Venturi finally contributed to the conversation.

"My name," James replied. "I don't use Michael anymore."

"Oh, really," Venturi asked with a raised eyebrow. "You answer to Michael for over half of your life and suddenly you want to answer to something else?"

"Yes," James replied. At the look on Venturi's face, he felt pushed to add, "I'm not asking for permission. I'm just sharing that I probably won't answer to Michael."

"Derek," Casey interrupted. 'I'm sure that Mi – I mean James – has a reason for deciding to use his first name."

"Yeah, he's hiding from someone or something I bet."

"Derek –"

"Look," James inserting himself back into the conversation. "I answer to James. Period." James sighed. "I really don't see why this is a problem. Mom didn't seem to mind the change when I told her," he muttered to himself.

Clearly, he didn't mutter his thoughts quietly enough, because the great Venturi heard him. "You've…you've talked to your mother?" he asked quietly.

"Most recently last month," James shared. He added in his head that he'd called her during the Canadian Thanksgiving, but he didn't think anyone in the room needed to know that.

"That's…wonderful," there was something off about Venturi's voice. Was it really that hard to say something nice to him, James had to wonder.

"I'm getting a drink. Want a beer?" Venturi again threw over his shoulder has he started walking toward the kitchen.

"Um…actually, water is fine, if you have it," James quickly answered. As much as he would love to get lost in a beer…no. He wouldn't go down that road again. Because if he died from it, Harry would bitchslap him in heaven.

At that moment, James really missed Harry.

"So, Mi- James," Casey Venture began to talk to try and fill the silence, "how was the drive from Toronto?"

James shrugged. "Fine, I guess. It has been awhile since I've been on Highway 403. Did they add another lane?"

"I think so…last year," Casey nodded. "You…drove Highway 403 a lot?"

"Not a lot, no," James shared. "But it is the major roadway to Toronto."

"This time of day though, it must have been exhausting, especially after a flight. Even if it was a short one from Quebec?"

Why in the world was Casey Venturi trying to talk to him about traffic? It James didn't know better, he'd think she was digging for information. She might be at that. He'd bet the second Mrs. Venturi was still a planner – more than likely, she was planning a way to hasten James out.

James shook his head in answer to her posit about traffic. "There are worse ways to drive 403," James replied. Like when he had to ride the highway behind the hearse carrying his best friend's body. How he didn't wreak then still amazed James to this day. Rush hour wasn't shit compared to that.

Suddenly a loud noise was heard from the front of the house. It sounded like a boom of some sort, but, Casey Venturi didn't jump. She sighed instead. "Emily, sweetie? Please try not to slam the door."

Emily didn't answer he mother as she came into the room with James' duffel bag. "This is it?" The teen asked in dismay. "This isn't all your worldly possessions, is it?"

James had to laugh at that. Was everyone under twenty melodramatic? "No, it didn't make sense to pack all of my worldly belongings. My flight leaves Sunday."

"Oh," the teen seemed a little sad suddenly. "Sunday. So, I guess you are in a hurry to get to your hotel."

"Where are you staying?" Casey asked

"Well…" James was a little embarrassed to admit this, but they had asked. "I hadn't actually gotten as far as getting a hotel room. I just thought –"

"So you can stay here!" Emily quickly cut him off. "He can, can't he, Mom? He can even stay in his old room. All we need to do is air it out."

"And put new sheets on the bed," Casey conceded. "If you need a place to stay, we'd love to have you."

James marveled at the strength of Mrs. Venturi. He wondered what that statement must have cost Casey and how hard it must be to keep that tentative smile on her face.

"Actually, I –"

"Great!" Emily interrupted before James could back out. "Mom and I will get the room ready," the teen insisted and she grabbed he mother's hand and began to pull her out of the room. "And I'll leave your bag in there, too," Emily shouted as the two crossed the threshold and headed toward the stairs.

"Where are they going?" Venturi asked as he re-entered the room with an open bottle of beer and a glass of water.

"Your daughter has decided that I'm staying here and pulled your wife into getting a room ready."

"That sounds like Emily," Venturi smiled. "She's very determined about some things." Venturi handed James the glass of water. "We learned what Emily wants, Emily gets."

"Like father, like daughter," James shrugged.

Derek took a swig of beer before answering. "Not with her methods. I think she's a little more like her mother in this."

James didn't answer, just sipped his water. Tap water in a glass. This was very different from the last time he had water while a guest in someone's house. At the Lawrences, after that crazy endurance walk Mr. Lawrence had dragged them on, Dr. Lawrence had merely shouted, "Heads up" and tossed a bottle of Evian at his head. Luckily he caught it.

Looking over at Venturi, James opened his mouth and…"Your wife lets you drink from the bottle?"

"Wouldn't use the word 'lets', but there was a conversation about it," Venturi allowed.

Drinking habits after traffic discussions? This was a little awkward.

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"It sounds it," Dr. Lawrence interrupted, "But-"

"But?"

"Are you sure they didn't want you around?"

James just stared at Dr. Lawrence.

"I mean," the academic continued, "Are you sure you didn't misunderstand what was happening? I mean, they hadn't seen you in about nine years, right?"

"About."

"So, how do you know they didn't want you around?"

"The uncomfortable meals were a big hint. It was more hearing things that I shouldn't that clinched it for me."

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He wasn't sure how he ended up having dinner with the Venturi family again. He had offered to grab fast food or something elsewhere, but everyone had objected. Emily just wanted him to have dinner with them. Casey kept insisting it wouldn't be a problem. Venturi had mumbled something about them having people drop by in the middle of the week all the time, why would this be different. James was pretty sure that he was being sarcastic.

It just got weirder from there.

After an uncomfortable silence in the beginning, Casey suddenly said, "Why don't we invite everyone over to dinner tomorrow?"

"Everyone?" James asked.

"Yes, everyone. Mom and George wouldn't mind coming by. Marti would love the break to come visit. And Liz and her husband aren't that far away. I think Ed's still in town, isn't he, Derek?"

"Yeah," Derek confirmed after he swallowed.

"And your mother could probably come in. I'm sure everyone will come. They will want to see…James, after all."

"What reason are we going to give them a reason for coming to a huge family dinner? On a Thursday?" Derek asked.

"Oh…well, I'm not sure. I guess we can't call it a homecoming, can we, James?"

"No," James agreed. He directed his eyes to his plate. No need for him to see the relief in Casey's eyes that he wasn't trying to stay.

"Maybe something celebrating fall?" Emily suggested.

"Or that dinner we never had to celebrate the nomination of your latest documentary?" Casey added.

"It's Thanksgiving in the States," James found himself mumbling.

"Excuse me?" Casey asked.

James took a deep breath. "It's Thanksgiving in the States. For some reason, they wait until November to celebrate."

"That's right, they do," Emily added. "The exchange student from the States in my literature class said something about it last month."

"How did you know that?" Venturi asked James.

James shrugged. "I'm just a font of useless information, I guess."

"Well, we didn't get the chance to do a big Thanksgiving dinner last month because of that film festival. So we could-"

"It is a lot of effort," James pushed himself to say. "I wouldn't want to you put yourself out, Mrs. Venturi."

"It wouldn't be a problem, really-"

"Besides, I'd feel a little guilty in causing a big family dinner. You probably just had everyone over last month…or you met up with everyone at someone else's house. It's really not a big deal," James continued. He hoped making it sound like he didn't want to cause work would give them an out not to do this. The last thing he wanted was to be even more uncomfortable in a room full of people he barely knew. Sure, Nana Abby might be there, but he'd rather see her on his own terms.

"Oh, but-"

"Casey, I think he's saying he'd rather not have a big dinner," Venturi said quietly from his end of the table.

"Oh. Well…okay then. But if you change your mind?"

James knew he wasn't going to change his mind. He was just glad that that big dinner thing was stopped in its tracks.

"So, what are we doing after dinner?" Emily asked.

"Well, you're finishing up your homework-" Casey told her daughter.

"But, Mom-"

"No buts. You have practice in the morning-"

"Practice?" James decided to ask instead of watching a family fight. "Ballet or Hockey?"

Casey smiled at James' question. "Emily actually decided, since I was championing dance and Derek was plugging hockey, to create a compromise-"

"So neither one of us would get what we wanted," Derek laughed.

"Ha, ha, Daddy," Emily giggled.

"So, what was the compromise?" James, surprisingly, was interested in what Emily decided to do.

"Figure skating," Emily smiled. "I'm getting better. I've almost got the triple axel down."

"Figure skating? Really," James shook his head. Imani would love his sister. Blinking at the strange thought, he quickly corrected himself in his head. Imani would adore Venturi's daughter Emily. But, if he remembered correctly, so did the rest of the world.

"Yeah, it's a little like dancing…but I'm on skates on the ice, like hockey," Emily explained, although her smile had dimmed a bit.

"Emily, I'm not sure James knows a lot about figure skating-"

"I wish," James muttered after Casey tried to reassure Emily, but given that all the eyes at the table turned on him, he guessed he didn't say it quietly enough. "Oh…it's just that I have a…friend who is really into figure skating. I get an earful."

That was enough for Emily to talk a little about her most recent routine for awhile. But soon it came back to after dinner activity. Before Mrs. Venturi could suggest game night or twenty questions or something else uncomfortable, James quickly said, "You know, I think the flight and driving have finally caught up with me. I'll probably go to sleep after dinner."

"That makes sense. What are you plans for tomorrow?" Casey asked.

"Tomorrow?" James blinked. He hadn't thought that far ahead, but they would probably need to know if he didn't leave tomorrow, when to let him back in the house. It's not like he had a key.

"I could take the day off; you know, so we catch a game or something. Just in case you can't get decent sports were you are," Venturi offered.

The offer surprised James a little, but he knew better to take it. "Oh, no. I'm not going to be the reason a Venturi film was late getting to the public. Hate to hold up progress, and all."

"It's a day. Not a big deal," Venturi replied.

James shrugged. "Anyway, I was thinking of visiting a friend tomorrow," he countered. After he uttered the phrase aloud, he felt convicted – why was it just now that paying respects to Harry occurred to him?

"You can always bring the friend with you," Casey ventured.

"Um…that wouldn't quite work," James' felt his lips turn up a bit at the picture that popped into his head of him bringing Harry along.

"Or your father could come with you to meet up with this friend," Casey suggested.

"Doubt he'd want to spend all day in a graveyard," James shared.

"A…graveyard?" Casey asked, sounding confused.

Interestingly enough, it was Emily who understood first. "Oh, Mikey, I'm so sorry. Were you close?"

Ignoring the elder Venturis, who were probably processing that James was going to visit a dead friend, he instead say. "Yeah, we were. He was my brother in a lot of ways. It's been odd, celebrating birthdays without getting pulled into some crazy thing to commemorate the day." James blinked a few times, sure that it was tiredness and not tears that were blurring his vision. "And today's travel is finally catching up with me. May I be excused?"

"Sure," Casey quietly granted permission.

In his room that night, James found that he stared at the ceiling for most of the night. It was surreal, being in that house. It wasn't just strange being in that house; it was strange being there and not being able to call Harry. Harry would have laughed his ass off about some of the stupid things James had done at this point. But then, Harry might have known what the hell to make of Venturi. James found he didn't sleep well that night.

- to be concluded –