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 FOURTEEN
LOW GROUND CLEARANCE
Steven was cooking in the Pinciottis' kitchen when Jackie arrived. He'd told her tonight's dinner with Michael would be special, so she'd put on her favorite purple dress for the occasion and curled her hair. Steven's clothes were also fancier than his normal attire, a dress shirt paired with a denim vest and khaki-colored corduroy pants.
"Hi, Steven!" The thrill in her chest permeated her voice. Scents from the pan sizzling on the stove were exhilarating.
"Hey," he said. "Kelso's not here yet."
"That's okay. I'm early." She hung her coat next to Steven's by the back door. The temperature outside was cold, but her excitement at seeing Steven—seeing him cook—warmed her fast. The kitchen table and its chairs were missing, and a cloche covered a dish on the kitchen island. "It smells great in here. What are you making?"
She tried to peek at the stove over his shoulder, but he was too tall. He must've felt her closeness because he turned toward her. "Something you'll like," he said. "You and Kelso." He nodded at the door to the living room. "Let's get out of here."
The usually bright powder-blue living room was dim. The only light came from half a dozen oil-lit camping lanterns. They created a sense of intimacy, and she resisted the urge to squeeze Steven's hand. The sofa had been moved toward the bar. The kitchen table was in its place, covered by an embroidered tablecloth.
"You did all this?" she said.
"With Donna's help. She got the lanterns from the attic. Neither of us wanted Kelso near open flames."
She giggled. "Good idea."
He pulled out one of the dining chairs for her. She sat, raising her eyebrows at his politeness, and he said, "What?"
"You've become a gentleman at long last." He'd probably picked up the habit from dinners at her own house. Her dad always pulled the chair out for her mom.
"Blame Melissa."
She pressed her tongue against her molars. "Your ex?"
"She'd cattle-prod me if I didn't … nope, that ain't fair."
"You never pull the chair out for me at Friday dinner. What's different?"
He brushed his knuckles along his jawline and looked away. "This is a real date. Conditioning kicked in. Been ejecting Melissa's 'training' out of my system, but maybe I should've been more of a gentleman to you at your place. Sorry."
Conditioning. The word was a slap, stinging with its precision and familiarity. She'd done her best to condition Michael into the perfect boyfriend and failed. That wasn't how healthy relationships functioned. He'd needed to choose to be better and did, but the pain in Steven was glaring. Melissa had hurt him.
"I'm sorry," Jackie said, for what he'd been through. For what she'd put Michael through. "You are a gentleman, whether you pull out the chair for me or not. You don't have to change for me or whoever you date for real. If you're not enough for them, they don't deserve you." She drummed her fingers on the table. "So, will you be eating with us?"
"That's kind of not the point."
She pinched the edge of her cloth napkin; it had been folded semi-professionally. "Could you at least have the appetizers? Unless the main course requires your constant attention."
"It doesn't." He adjusted his sunglasses on his face. "Why do you want me here? You and Kelso are finally getting alone-time together."
"Because it's going to be awkward. He and I haven't really talked since he's been back. We try, but it's not … we need a buffer."
"Someone who can help you reconnect, you mean."
"Yeah, that."
He glanced at the kitchen door. "Okay, but just the appetizers, man. You gotta learn how to work out your crap yourselves." He gestured at himself. "I'm won't always be around, you know? If you think I'm goin' on your honeymoon, you're nuts."
She inhaled a shaky breath as he returned to the kitchen. His absence hit her hard, like the rare instance when no one caught her during a cheer stunt. She considered speaking to the table lantern. It wouldn't talk back, but Michael eventually would.
Awkwardness was a definite problem between them, yet not the only one. Michael's kiss at his homecoming should've overwhelmed her with romantic fervor. Instead, she was relieved once the kiss ended. That feeling could've been an anomaly, caused by their summer apart. Rather than finding out the truth, though, she'd avoided him for a month.
The front door clicked open, and she tossed her now-crumpled napkin to the table. Michael entered the living room, dressed in a slick gray suit. It had to be expensive. The only men she'd seen wearing suits that well-tailored were her dad and his colleagues.
Michael joined her at the table, and the lantern light flickered. "You look beautiful, Jackie."
"Thank you. You're wearing a very nice suit."
"It's Givenchy. Can you believe I even know what that is?"
"I would've said no last May, but yes. It looks like you've found what makes you happy."
He reached for her hand. "You make me happy."
She let his fingers wrap over her palm. It was uncomfortable. His fingers seemed ill-fitted for her hand, but she didn't withdraw. She couldn't understand what was wrong as he gazed at her lovingly. The lanterns lit the contours of his face, surface features that were etched in her memory. Whatever emotions lay beneath them, however, had become strangers
The kitchen door swung open, and Steven brought a platter of deviled eggs to the table. He placed it beside the lantern. She released Michael's hand, experiencing a sense of ease when Steven sat between them.
"Thought I'd eat a few with ya so I don't starve," he said. "Got more cooking to do."
Michael nodded, and Jackie chose a deviled egg from the platter. She bit into it, and the savory flavor banished stress from her body. The effect was incredible. Steven was not his mother's son where food was concerned, or much else.
"You must've had fancier stuff than this in Europe," Steven said to Michael. "Go for it."
"I'm allergic to eggs." Michael pushed the platter closer to Jackie.
Steven exhaled loudly through his noise. "Shit. Why is the news to me?"
"You could've used that info as a weapon when we were kids," Michael said, "so I never told you, Eric, or Donna."
In solidarity to him, Jackie hesitated to eat another deviled egg. But she grabbed one after a few seconds, and a smile rose on her lips while she ate it. Michael might've stuck gum in his mouth. She wasn't sure. Her focus was on Steven. "I heard Eric knocked Mitch Miller unconscious at the putt-putt course today."
"One swing, man. Ball careened off the lighthouse—" Steven held up a deviled egg to represent the golf ball—"and struck Mitch in the skull."
He ate the egg while Michael said, "Little dude dropped like a sack of golf balls."
"Was he really hurt?" she said to Steven.
"Kid regained consciousness as the ambulance got there." Steven tapped his forehead. "Has a slight concussion."
She turned toward him in her chair. "Donna said the guy who owns the place was livid. I know Al. He's part of my dad's business circle. He's a big man. Were you scared when he came out and saw Mitch lying on the ground?"
"Kelso was there, too." He pointed to Michael. "You tell her."
"So Al looks down at Mitch and the purple splotch on his forehead, and his own face goes plum-y."
Jackie flicked her eyes to Michael, but her gaze returned to Steven as Michael continued talking: "He says to us, 'I get it. The kid's annoying, but did you have to use him for putt-putt practice?'"
She grasped Steven's hand and grinned. His skin was warm against hers. "You laughed, didn't you?"
"Both of us did. Kelso and me lost it," Steven said and gently removed his hand from her grip. "Anyway, I better get to the pork chops before they burn."
He left for the kitchen. Jackie didn't want him to go, but she reluctantly gave Michael her attention.
Hyde carried two plates into the living room, both stacked with seasoned pork chops, onions, and peas. He set them in front of Jackie and Kelso, but Kelso stood from the table.
"This sucks," Kelso said and bolted to the kitchen.
Hyde chased after him. Kelso hadn't shut the door to the backyard. Hyde grabbed his coat, kicked the door closed, but found Kelso slumped on the Pinciottis' yellow couch. He was staring down at the grass.
The house's back lights brightened the yard, but stars and the three-quarter moon lit the sky. Could have been a romantic night if it weren't freezing. Should've been that kind of night for Kelso and Jackie.
"She doesn't love me anymore," Kelso said as Hyde shrugged on his coat, "not the way I love her." He trained his grief-stricken stare on Hyde. "She loves you that way now."
"Nah." Hyde buttoned his coat. This year's autumn was damn cold. "She's been around me since the summer. She has to readjust to bein' with you is all."
Kelso's eyes grew wet. "I have that modeling gig in Chicago in like, a week, and I'm getting booked for more." Tears fell down his cheeks. "This isn't gonna work, me and her." He wiped his face on his shoulder and sniffled. "It's my fault she's got feelings for you. Let her down easy, okay?"
Hyde's fingers were becoming red from the night air. He rubbed his hands together and breathed on them, but the warmth that created was temporary. Same as whatever Jackie believed she felt for him. "Man, when you get back from Chicago, her head'll be on straight."
Heart, too. It belonged to Kelso, but Jackie had loaned it to Hyde before. "She's afraid—"
"Thanks for trying," Kelso said, "but any idiot can see the truth. Even me." He pushed himself off the couch. "Don't feel bad. You did your best. Me and Jackie just aren't meant to be."
He trudged from the backyard, shoes shuffling in the browning grass. His van had to be parked out front, and Hyde leaned his head back. None of the stars in the sky offered heat, only cold light. Jackie couldn't love him. She never would, and he accepted it.
Abandonment and betrayal were her bogeymen. Kelso's career clearly had her spooked, how far away it might take him. But she was wrong about Kelso, and he was wrong about her.
Hyde hurried from the frigid backyard to the kitchen. The scent of his cooking hung in the air, and his stomach growled. Two deviled eggs weren't going to cut it. He needed to eat, but first Jackie needed a peaceful a resolution to this shitty date.
In the living room, he slung his coat over Kelso's empty chair. Jackie had finished two-thirds of her pork chop, and she said, "Where's Michael?"
"He's nauseous, so he went home. I think the deviled eggs screwed with his brain. What kind of allergic reaction does he get from those suckers?"
"He swells up like a blimp. He almost died once. His parents rushed him to the hospital."
"Hell." Hyde's weak bluff was a winner.
"Yeah, it's that bad." Jackie gestured to Kelso's plate of uneaten food. "Will you have dinner with me then?"
"It's gotta be cold."
"I've watched you eat chicken that's practically ice. Pork's not much different. "
No denying that. He moved his coat to the other empty chair and took Kelso's place at the table. He dug into the pork chop. It was slightly colder than room temperature, but it tasted good on his tongue. Easier to swallow than Kelso's interpretation of events.
"What's wrong?" Jackie said. "You're not happy."
"I'm fine."
"Steven, I can tell when you're upset and when you're lying."
Crap, she could. He'd taught her how to read past his words, but his and Kelso's deception was a deep one. She wouldn't guess it. Hyde still believed in the goal—securing the future Jackie hoped for—but the goal was getting lost. She didn't know Kelso asked him to get close to her or why. That had to change, but not here and not tonight.