"We all slip-slide through the liminal spaces. The suspended animation between here and there. That's all there is really. I sometimes wonder if grace is just a word for the times that we manage to live in full trust of the graceless in-between." - Jeannette LeBlanc
o-o-o
Thursday, December 15th
The hinges whine in protest as I swing open the door, but the sound is absorbed by the sound of Bud's blasting television. Bud is passed out on the couch, the TV playing for no one.
I immediately squint my eyes because Bud also has every light on in the living space, including the kitchen. But what makes me set my jaw in frustration is the heater in the corner cranking at full blast…next to the open window.
That's what I go for first. The screaming door hinges didn't wake Bud, but I watch with smug satisfaction as he startles awake when I slam the window shut.
"Oh, hey, Steven." Bud visibly relaxes when he sees that it's just me. He purses his lips together as he watches me move from the window to the heater, which I turn off completely.
"It's a waste to have the window open and the heater on," I mumble.
"Actually, I find that if I don't open the window when the heater is on, it gets really dry in here," Bud says amicably. He is either choosing to ignore my frustration or is completely oblivious to it. "What, uh, are you doing home so late?"
Bud doesn't get up off the couch, but he twists his body as I head into the kitchen and start turning off more lights.
"Just got off work," I say gruffly, already mentally counting the number of extra shifts I'd have to ask Leo for just to pay what would likely be an astronomical electric bill this month.
I glance down at my watch. It was almost midnight and tomorrow was Friday, which meant I still had to get up early for school. I press my thumb and forefinger into the corners of my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down before I say something I will regret.
"Weren't you supposed to be at work tonight?" I ask. I try to ask in a way that comes off as mild interest and not accusatory.
It must work, because Bud doesn't react negatively. Instead, he just runs a hand through his hair as he starts to speak through a yawn. "Oh, yeah. I had to call out because I think I'm coming down with something."
"Oh yeah?"
I had not heard him once cough, sneeze, blow his nose, or anything of the like.
"Yeah."
There's an awkward beat as the elephant in the room - money - refuses to be ignored.
Bud clears his throat. "But its, uh, all taken care of. I traded some shifts with Terry so I'll be working some doubles right before Christmas."
The mention of Christmas reminds me of a conversation I had with Forman earlier today and I get an idea. I return to the living room and lower myself to the floor so I'm sitting closer to Bud.
"Hey, would it be cool if I had a Christmas party here?"
Bud looks genuinely surprised by the change in topic. Well, that or by my request in general. "A Christmas party?"
"Yeah. My friends and I usually have a small get-together right before Christmas at the Forman's house," I say, being intentionally vague. "Nothing too big, but his parents don't want him to have the party at their house this year. But you're cool with us having it here, right?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm definitely cool with that," Bud says, up to speed. "When, uh, do you want to have this party?"
"Well," I say, trying to play it cool. "I was thinking maybe one of those nights you're working. That way we don't bother you. When do you work?"
"Uh…next Thursday, Friday, and Saturday," Bud rattles off from memory.
I do some quick thinking. Thursday was a 'school night' which meant curfews and Saturday was Christmas Eve. "Friday, then," I say, and give Bud a winning smile.
"All right, yeah," Bud says. "That should be fine."
"Yeah, thanks, Bud." I rise and clap him on the shoulder as I pass him on the way to my room. "You're cool, man."
I should feel guilty for playing him like that, but I refuse to. If he could use me to afford this apartment, then I could use him to throw a party in it.
o-o-o
Sunday, December 18th
The door to The Hub flings open and Kelso beelines, a disaster of flailing limbs, over to our table in the back.
"I got the keg for your party," he announces as he pulls out a chair. "It's in the backseat of my van," Kelso says to me and hooks a thumb behind him. I follow to where it points to his van parked right outside The Hub.
"You got the keg already?" I make a face.
Kelso's face falls at my less-than-enthusiastic reaction. "Yeah. So?"
"The party's not 'til Friday. Where are you going to put that thing?"
Donna snickers and looks up from the holiday magazine she's flipping through with Jackie. "He'll put it away," she says, knowingly.
"It's already put away," Kelso says, missing the point. "Didn't you hear me? It's in my van."
"No, she means you'll 'put it away,'" Forman explains with air quotes. When Kelso's expression remains blank, Forman continues. "Kelso, man, you'll float that keg before Hyde's party on Friday."
"Nuh uh," he pouts. "I won't!" Kelso insists, crossing his arms defensively.
Fez tries to reason with him. "And Kelso, you can't leave it in your van all day at school. You could get caught."
Suddenly, in what is likely her attempt to get away from the table as quickly and quietly as possible, Jackie screeches her chair across the floor as she hurriedly stands. She flinches, but remains undeterred, letting her hair fall in her face as she silently flees our table. I frown as I watch her make her way to the ordering counter.
"Just make sure there's a full keg for Friday," I tell Kelso distractedly. Then I discreetly rise and make my way over to the ordering counter as well.
"You planning on coming Friday?" I ask casually once Jackie has finished ordering herself a pop.
She turns, surprised to find me here. "Depends on if I'm invited," she says stiffly and turns back to the counter.
I knew it. Jackie hadn't been around earlier this weekend when I told everyone about the party and put Kelso in charge of getting the keg (since he was eighteen). It would have been a lot easier if she had been there; I wasn't sure the delicate precipice our friendship was balancing on could handle a direct invite. But here we were, nonetheless.
"'Course you're invited," I say casually.
Jackie raises her eyebrows, clearly not picking up my subtle clues to suggest that this was really not a big deal. "Then why am I just hearing about it?"
I set my jaw, unable to conceal my annoyance. "Because I just started planning this party two days ago."
"Oh," Jackie relents, her mouth making a perfect 'O' shape. After a moment, she bites her bottom lip in worry. "You're not just inviting me out of pity?"
I take a step back. That was not what I expected her to say.
"Pity?" I repeat, making sure I heard her correctly. Jackie nods minutely. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Jackie sags in defeat. "I don't know. I just…I don't want you to feel obligated to invite me because of the whole friends thing," she explains, gesturing between us with her hand. "Especially if you don't actually want me there."
She looks away then, hunching her shoulders in embarrassment. Instinctively, I reach out and grab her wrist, gently turning her back to face me. We make eye contact and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.
My voice is thick when I speak. "I want you at my party, Jackie."
And she has no idea just how true this is - that was the whole problem.
Her eyes widen slightly and I catch their gleam. "You do?"
"Yes."
She bounces on her heels. "Okay, then I'll be there."
Jackie's unabashed joy over simply being invited to my Christmas party is contagious. There is something intense but unspoken in the grins that we exchange now, and I can't help but recall that our last encounter – in the basement discussing the cheer squad – also ended much like this, with me and Jackie in each other's personal space, exchanging loaded smiles. An insistent voice in the back of my mind warns me that this game was starting to get dangerous.
Then as if on cue, as Jackie turns to grab her pop, my hand - which had still been holding her wrist - slips down and captures her own hand.
"Oh, sorry," Jackie says, immediately withdrawing her hand, her cheeks flushing nervously.
I clear my throat. "Don't worry about it."
I turn away from her before she can see me clench my fist, but it's pointless. The feeling of her fingertips curled in my palm lingers for the rest of the night.
o-o-o
Monday, December 19th
The final bell Monday afternoon is salvation. That is, until I pass a group of marching band geeks all decked out in their green and yellow Vikings uniforms and I halt in the middle of the hallway. It's then that I notice the flyers posted on classroom doors and lockers.
The pep rally.
The pep rally that Jackie eagerly worked on to make more interesting for the rest of the student body. For people like me.
I groan and slump my shoulders. Jackie never explicitly asked me to go, but it wasn't even a question. I told Jackie that I wanted to help and support her, so no matter how I felt about these events, I knew I needed to at least make an appearance.
I look down and find yet another flyer for the pep rally sitting under my boot. I sigh.
When I look back up, I see Fez headed in my direction. I grab his arm to get his attention.
"Hey, Fez. Wanna go hit on some desperate band geeks at the pep rally?" I say, knowing full-well that this was his bread and butter.
As I expected, he perks up excitedly. "You don't have to ask me twice, brother."
"Excellent."
Fez and I shuffle our way through the halls that are slowly emptying of students. I'm surprised to see a large crowd of our peers herding out towards the football field for the pep rally. All day the school had been hyping up a fresh and exciting pep rally, and it seems to have worked, I realize, especially once we get outside and find only standing room with the bleachers already full of students and teachers alike.
Whole Lotta Love is blasting from a tinny-sounding speaker somewhere, and I have to crane my neck over the crowd in search of a tiny brunette cheerleader. I spot a group of green and white clad girls sporting pom poms and although I can't pick out Jackie in that group, I figure that would be the best place to start. Despite the good music, I really didn't want to stick around here for long, so better to get this over with quickly. I'd go congratulate her on a successful pep rally, then I'd get the hell out of here.
"All right, Fez," I say, steering him in the direction of the marching band. "See those chicks? Now's your chance before they start playing. I'll be back."
Fez eagerly heads in the direction of a group of girls piecing together their trumpets. When I'm sure he's occupied, I start making my way to the other end of the football field where the cheerleaders are huddled together.
I'm starting to think that Jackie is not with this group of cheerleaders when one of the girls shifts to her right and I catch a glimpse of a very familiar denim jacket.
One of the cheerleaders facing my way looks up as I approach. "Jackie, someone is here to see you," they say.
The denim jacket-clad figure turns, and I watch silently as Jackie's peppy expression morphs first into confusion, then surprise, before finally settling on what I can only describe as mortification.
"Steven!" She shouts, her anxious voice confirming what is written all over her face.
Jackie clearly had not anticipated me showing up here. The fact that she was wearing my (no-longer) missing jacket made that much obvious.
I cock my head, careful not to give away anything as I assess the situation. Zen. "Nice jacket."
"What are you doing here?" she blurts, and I don't know if she even registered my comment.
The cheerleader who had alerted Jackie to my presence rolls her eyes playfully. "Why wouldn't he be here?" She taps Jackie's shoulder. "I think its sweet that he came to support his girlfriend."
I take in the appraising glances of the cheerleaders, Jackie wrapped in my denim jacket, and consider the 'girlfriend' comment. Then it clicks.
Jackie had spun a well-crafted tale in which I unknowingly got cast as her boyfriend, and then shared that story with the rest of her cheer squad.
She must realize the second that the lightbulb goes off in my head because she visibly flinches.
"Jackie, can I talk to you?" I ask, forcing myself to keep a light tone. "Alone?" I emphasize.
She glances around at her squad members anxiously. "Yeah. Yeah, um, over here." She grabs my forearm and drags me just out of earshot of the squad. "Steven, I am so sorry. I can explain."
"Starting with this."
I reach down, lightly gripping the bottom of my jacket and give it a small tug. Jackie, completely flustered, loses her balance at this slight tug and stumbles, taking a step closer to me. A glance at her cheerleader friends reveals them watching the two of us unabashedly. Jackie is standing so close to me that she has to angle her head up to meet my eyes, but she refuses to step away. We are being watched and she obviously has a pretense to keep up.
"What the hell, Jackie?" I ask, starting to lose my patience when she doesn't say anything at first.
"I'm sorry," she blurts again. "You…you left the jacket in my car the night of our date. I was going to return it to you, I swear, after the pep rally, but I needed to wear it, because, um…"
"Because you told them we're dating?" I push.
"Yeah." She sighs as though relieved she didn't have to be the one to say it. "Are you angry?"
"Of course, I'm angry, Jackie!" I wouldn't yell, but I still raise my voice. "I thought we were going to try to be friends. Then you go and pull a stunt like this?"
To her credit, she still looks remorseful, but never one to accept defeat, she protests. "We're not actually dating. So what's the harm in a little white lie?"
"What's the harm?" I practically spit back in surprise. "You pursue me for weeks until I finally agree to go out on a date with you. We kiss, and after all that you drop me without so much as a second thought. I still agree to try the whole friendship thing with you anyway, and then you use me, without asking me or letting me know, to elevate your status with the cheerleaders. And you're asking what the big deal is?"
"Hold on, Steven. What exactly are you saying?" Jackie asks, confused.
"You can't be that dense, Jackie," I say hopelessly.
Apparently she was, or she refused to see what I was clearly spelling out for her. This relationship might not be real, but I have very real feelings for you, I scream internally.
Jackie looks away and shakes her head. She shrugs off my jacket and hands it to me gently. "Here. I have to go get ready to cheer." Her voice is shaky, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she says for the hundredth time.
"I know a lover's spat when I see one," says a blond cheerleader as she approaches us. "But you gotta nip this in the bud, Jackie. We can't have you looking less than perfect when we go out and cheer." Her tone is condescending. "So, kiss and make up, then put on your game face, got it?"
"Leslie, no," Jackie protests. "I need to, um…I need to tell you guys something and - "
"No, Leslie's right," I say, intervening. I put my arm protectively around Jackie like I would've done if I were her boyfriend, especially since I did not care for this chick's tone. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I upset you before your big cheer?"
Jackie turns in my arms to face me, her expression as shell shocked as I feel.
Leslie groans impatiently. "Okay, just kiss and then let's go, Jackie."
Jackie's eyes drop to my lips when Leslie speaks. I don't think she expects me to go through with it, which is part of what compels me to bring my free hand to her cheek. I bring my face close to hers, but let her close the distance. She does.
This kiss is not nearly as intense as our first. Just a soft parting of lips as Jackie's hands land delicately on my waist. But there is something about the simplicity of it - its the kind of kiss two people in a grounded, solid relationship shared as part of their everyday lives - and that makes it feel all the more intimate. It makes me ache for something I've never had, never thought I even wanted, really.
I pull away first this time, and watch as Jackie takes a moment to recover and open her eyes.
Was that still 'nothing'? I desperately want to ask, but I don't. I can tell by the faraway look in Jackie's eyes and the way she brings her fingers to her lips that she is remembering our Veteran's Day kiss right now as well.
"All right, let's go," Leslie says, impatiently grabbing Jackie by the elbow.
I slip out of Jackie's embrace and immediately turn and walk away, putting further and further distance between the two of us.
Everywhere Jackie had touched my body suddenly feels cold. I shrug into my jacket in the hopes it will offer some warmth.
It doesn't help.
Author's Note: Chapter 14: Man Traps & Mistletoe will be posted Friday, May 3, 2024.