Crossing Off the List

by SJSmith56

Set during and after the Flag Smashers, Bucky Barnes needs the help of a retired librarian to acquire his GED. This is a story of friendship between Joyce, hanging on to life while fighting cancer and Bucky, an old soul in a younger man's body wanting to understand and experience what he has missed since his life changed, after he fell into that mountain chasm in 1945.

3. Chapter 3 Interactions

Chapter 3. Interactions

That first session with Joyce was enlightening for Bucky. It wasn't the first time he had been in the library. He had already acquired his library card and had taken out reading material, almost all fiction, although he preferred to own his favourites, re-reading them whenever the fancy took him. He also littered the pages with sticky notes as he picked up something new each time. Thank God for that invention, as it kept the pages free of the scribbles he would make as he read.

Most of his owned reading material were the fiction classics he grew up with, leaning heavily towards fantasy and science fiction. He did read newer materials, liking The Martian, as much for its premise as for its easygoing banter between the different characters. It reminded him of when he was part of the Howling Commandos, the joking and exchanges between them, followed by their snapping into their roles on the team when the circumstances called for it. His non-fiction reading preferences had leaned heavily towards the history that occurred since the war, science and inventions.

This session with Joyce, actually using the online catalog to find resources for his GED had worried him for a while. For some reason he thought she would be critical of him, but instead she was calm, patient, and informative as she quickly showed him how to find what he needed and limit the results to narrow down his choices. His first instinct, to take all of the resources, was related to his anxiety. He knew that and she reacted like she would with any student, calling him out with just a look, a look that reminded him of his mother. Glancing towards Joyce as she was pointing out a feature of the guide, they were looking at, he just blurted out his question.

"Do you have any kids?"

She made eye contact with him. "Yes, I have a son and two daughters, and four grandchildren. Do you?"

"No," he chuckled. "Just the look you gave me when I asked if I could take all of these reminded me of my mother. I figured you would have a lot of practice using that look, although you likely used it a lot in your work."

"I did," agreed Joyce. "Some kids didn't have a lot of boundaries in their lives, so I made sure they were aware that in the library, at least, they didn't cross any. Nothing drastic, just no raised voices, no food, no fighting, and no sex."

Bucky was in the middle of sipping his coffee at the last one and coughed as he inhaled a little of the dark liquid too quickly.

"Sex in the library? Is that even a problem?"

"Gosh, yes," replied Joyce. "Some kids have no idea about how to behave in public because they weren't taught at home. We had a hallway in the school that had to be enclosed because it was used as a make out space. I use "make out" as a euphemism for more intense activities. Before I started working at the school the shelves were arranged in a way that there were blind spots and teenagers were resourceful enough to exploit those blind spots, over and over again. I had to make sure I had lots of resources on sexuality as well, as the ignorance was almost blinding."

"Didn't their parents talk to them?" he asked. "Didn't they learn the basics in health class?"

"You would think so," she answered. "Those same politicians that think libraries are frivolous are also against sex education in school. They think it gives kids a green light to be sexually active. So many are active already, and they have no clue how to protect themselves from the emotional or physical aspects." She looked critically at him. "Don't get me started. I tried to keep my own kids informed and the older two got through puberty okay. The third one, well, let's just say at some point she tuned me out and listened to her friends instead. She's been through a lot of heartbreak as she seems to gravitate towards the wrong guy, and he breaks her heart." She stopped, then took a sip of her coffee. "Sorry, I just worry about Hope, that's my youngest. I won't always be around to help her pick up the pieces of her broken heart."

She smiled grimly at Bucky and refocused her attention on the guides. By the way she was trying to steer the conversation back to the task at hand he wondered if Joyce had her own issues that she was dealing with. Bucky was just polite enough not to press the matter and started going through the guides with her. As she compared the different guide's features, he began to understand what she meant about picking one and sticking with it. They all covered much the same material but in slightly different ways. The information overload would have overwhelmed him at some point, and he may have thrown all of the books out of the window in frustration. Having Joyce's help in sharpening his focus had really helped and he finally put his hand on one of the guides.

"This one," he said. "I like how it's laid out and it explains it clearly. Just by what it says I'm pretty confident at tackling the reading and writing portions of it. The math should be mostly okay as I had to take some advanced math classes during the war, although I could probably use a refresher in that."

"What kind of advanced math?" asked Joyce.

"I was a sniper, but we didn't have all the gear that the marksmen today have that gives them a readout of conditions," explained Bucky. "A lot of it had to be done in my head on the fly. I had to accurately estimate all the factors that could affect a bullet's trajectory and point of impact. Things like range to my target, wind direction and velocity, my altitude and elevation in relation to the target. Even the air temperature could have an effect on the trajectory of the bullet. Now the marksmen have a spotter who figures a lot of that out, but I had to do that by myself as well and figure it out in my head most of the time."

"Don't take this the wrong way but were you good at it?" asked Joyce.

Bucky clamped his mouth shut and Joyce noticed a little pucker at the side of his cheek as he swallowed. "Yeah," he said quietly. "When HYDRA realized who I was they exploited my skills for their benefit. I was one of the army's best snipers, even though I took no pleasure in it. They turned me into their killing machine."

The bitterness in his voice made Joyce quiet then she placed her hand next to Bucky's. He looked at it and nodded so she put her hand on his.

"I'm sorry that my question reminded you of something bad," she said. "It wasn't my intent. I think you're an intelligent man who had the shittiest misfortune to be abused by a bunch of fascists who twisted your knowledge and skills to their benefit. Galileo said, "Mathematics is the alphabet with which God has written the universe." All sorts of studies have shown that there is a correlation between math and music, which uses both the logical and imaginative part of your brain. Even Pythagoras knew that. HYDRA may have taken so much from you, but I think you have already gained so much back. Here you are trying to get a piece of paper that indicates you've achieved an academic standard. If you were good at advanced mathematics then you'll be good at a lot of other things, Bucky. I know that and you should believe that."

He exhaled and nodded, glancing at her with a tight smile. It hadn't been his intention to give into the rage he still felt about what was done to him and for a moment he wondered if he had scared her off but when she placed her hand next to his, giving him the option to accept or reject her touch he knew she was reacting to him in a way that he missed. That alone almost sent him in another direction emotionally, but he held it together while he signed the guide out, then walked with Joyce to her car and waved goodbye to her. All the way back to his flat he suppressed the feelings building up in him.

Once he was inside his flat and closed the door behind him, he removed his jacket and gloves, kicked his shoes off and went to the small bookshelf he had, pulling out the photo album. It was the last thing Steve gave to him before he returned to the past as he had made the effort to assemble the pictures of the family he thought of as his own. Then Bucky opened the album up and found it, the picture of Ma and Dad, Rebecca and him on the day before he shipped out. A neighbour took the picture, having a couple of exposures left on his camera roll. He was so young then; his smooth face wasn't lined with anxiety and fear. His whole life was ahead of him. All he had to do was make it back in one piece.

Gently he guided his finger over Rebecca's face. Even though she was still alive he hadn't reached out to her yet, afraid of what would be in her eyes once she saw the hand and the arm, knowing what he had done for so long. His dad, so stoic and proud but at the same time afraid for what his son would face in battle. He had tried to talk to Bucky about it, as he still suffered from his own experiences in World War I, but they didn't treat veterans for those issues the way they did now and so his dad turned to alcohol to deal with it sometimes. How many times had he physically dragged his father away from terrorizing Ma and Rebecca? Then to watch Ma go back to him, offering comfort, because that is what a good wife did for her husband because the marriage vows said: for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death us do part. Ma ... that's when Bucky finally allowed the tears to flow. He missed her so much.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have tried harder to get home. Please forgive me."

He sat like that looking at the picture, for some time before finally wiping his runny nose and closing the photo album up. Surprisingly the sun was almost down, and he went to the fridge to see what there was to eat, but he already knew there was nothing in there. Picking up his phone he looked at the contact list and on impulse dialled Joyce's number.

"Hi, Bucky here," he said. "Have you had dinner yet? I ... fell asleep on the couch and when I woke up, I was craving pizza or something. Just thought I wouldn't mind the company." She asked him about Yori. "He doesn't like Italian. You don't have to ..." She was agreeing. "Alright, Patsy's. I'll call and get a table. They're good about fitting me in since I went there back in the day."

After hanging up Bucky went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. Then he called Patsy's Pizzeria and got a table for two. When he got there Joyce was already seated, waving at him from the table. He shook hands with the host then slid into the chair across from her.

"Thanks for coming out," he said. "It's nice to have company to eat with."

"Thank you for asking," replied Joyce. "I was facing leftovers and watching TV. I'd rather be out." She started looking at the menu. "So, you came here when you were young?"

"Yeah, I brought dates here." He realized what he said. "Not that this is a date. I don't ..."

"It's okay, I know what you mean." She smiled at him. "Bucky, we're friends. I think it's safe to say that, right? We spent a lot of time together at the library today. I enjoyed my time with you. You go out to lunch with Yori a lot and nobody calls those meals dates."

"Yeah, that's right I do. You're a friend, too; just an older lady friend." He groaned and placed his hand on his forehead while Joyce giggled a little. "Shoot me now, please."

"Let me save you from yourself," said Joyce. "What kind of pizza do you like?"

"From here? Macellaio pizza," he replied, right away. "I'm a meat guy; meatballs, pepperoni, sausage, tomato sauce and mozzarella. What about you?"

"Capricciosa, prosciutto, portobello mushrooms, black olives, tomato sauce and cheese, with a nice glass of red wine to wash it down."

"Alright." He looked for their waiter and ordered for each of them, then looked at Joyce who was giving him a look. "Was that alright? Ordering for you?"

"This time, yes, next time let me order for myself," said Joyce. "You don't date much, do you?"

He blushed a little. "No, in fact, since I got back to Brooklyn earlier this year I've been out once, and I messed it up."

"Oh no! What happened?" Joyce looked at him with concern.

"I kind of had an anxious moment, excused myself and walked out," he admitted. "I didn't go back. It wasn't my best moment. My friend, Sam, had me set up an account on Tinder and I've looked at some of the women on there but it's ... so different than when I was young."

"I can imagine," she replied. "Were you popular then?"

He blushed again and smiled that brilliant smile that Joyce thought most women would easily fall in love with.

"Very popular. I went out a lot."

The waiter brought their drinks, red wine for Joyce and beer for Bucky. She sipped her glass and observed him as he took a drink of his beer. He still had his gloves on as well as his jacket, even though it was warm out.

"What were you like then?" she asked, curious.

"Confident, I liked to box, dance, going to the jazz clubs, always dressed up for a date. Had to keep the ladies happy." He smiled and shook his head a little as he drank some beer, then his eyes softened. "I'd bring some flowers for my date when I picked her up. I did that for my date with Leah. She didn't seem to like that ... called it old fashioned. Whenever I could I borrowed my dad's car. Usually, we'd go out for dinner then to a movie, or to the park for a walk, or we'd just park."

He smiled a little at that last comment then seemed to be a little sad. She felt sympathy for him obviously missing what were simpler times for him. "You must miss those days very much."

"I do but they're gone, right? I skipped over 70 years and now here I am in the 21st century, where girls don't want a guy to woo her, they don't want doors opened for them, or even to be called girls. I'm 106 years old. Even you're a girl to me."

"It must seem that there aren't many women who would appreciate those things, but they are around," said Joyce. "You grew up in a time where you treated a woman with respect although I get the impression that you were... how do I say this delicately... physically active with the ladies." Bucky blushed again then nodded his head in acknowledgement. "It may seem that women are more forward, but they still have a lot of the same hopes and dreams of women in your time."

"Women in my time were looking for a husband, to give them a home and a family. I don't see much evidence of that now."

"It's there but there's a lot of pressure not to settle," said Joyce, then she noticed that Bucky was frowning. "By settle, I mean they're kind of inundated with influencers, celebrities, the perfect looking man with money and status. A lot of those perfect looking men didn't look that way to start with, but it takes time and effort for them to grow into being that person and young people want it all now. I think of my husband, Bob. I met him in college. He was 5 foot 9, 160 lbs soaking wet, wore black socks with his runners, and didn't know much about sex when we started dating. But he was earnest and honest, he listened to me, always told me I was beautiful, and never lied to me. It took us a couple of years of marriage before we finally figured out what we were doing but he was loving and giving. He wasn't the perfect man when we met or even when we got married but he was perfect for me, and I was lucky to have 40 years with him."

"You miss him," said Bucky. "Do you date?"

"I've thought of it but I'm afraid I would compare him to Bob and that's not fair," she said. She looked past Bucky. "Here's our food."

The waiter put their pizzas down in front of them and they both took the first slice of their respective pizzas, biting into them and chewing. They each finished that first slice, then picked up the second. Bucky wolfed his second one down starting on his third before Joyce was even halfway through her second.

"I have a very high metabolism," explained Bucky. "I need about 10,000 calories a day to function. After rent, my food bill is my major expense and I spend way too much on eating out or takeout."

"You don't cook?" asked Joyce.

"I do but most days I just don't feel like it. Honestly, I don't enjoy eating alone but I find it hard to make friends. Other than Sam, I only have Yori and you for friends."

Joyce finished chewing what was in her mouth and put her slice down to look at him. "Can I ask you something personal?" Bucky nodded. "How do you stand it? You don't get lonely?"

He stopped chewing and his mouth tightened a bit as he looked like he wished he could have avoided answering this question. But Joyce was giving him that look again, the one that set him off in the afternoon and he coughed a little.

"Some days I don't leave my apartment. There are days I feel very alone."

"You have hobbies though," stated Joyce. "I've seen you at book sales. You said you have your friend Sam, he's Falcon, right?"

"I read and I work on my other list. Sam lives near New Orleans, so I don't see him that much plus we're not always in sync." He blushed when he mentioned it and took a deep breath. "I have anxiety issues, the PTSD, and this."

He lifted his left hand and just as quickly dropped it down to his lap.

"What made you invite me out for dinner?"

He was quiet for some time and Joyce wondered if she had pressed a nerve then he smiled hesitantly.

"You reminded me of my mother, and I just felt like I wanted to be around you."

His face was pink with embarrassment, and he drank his beer again before savagely biting into his pizza slice.

"How long since you last saw your parents?" she asked gently.

"June 1943, when I shipped out for England," he answered. "We wrote letters, but I don't even have those anymore. Steve Rogers, when he woke up, found my sister, Rebecca. She was still alive and had some photographs. He made copies and put them into a photo album as our families were close. After his Ma died in 1936 my parents looked out for him. Before he left, he gave me the photo album."

"It's always hard when your parents die but it must have been doubly hard for you because they didn't know the truth, did they?" He shook his head. "Have you reconnected with your sister?"

He shook his head again. "She's 93. I don't even know if she remembers me. Likely has dementia or something." His face darkened. "Don't know if I can face her to be honest."

"Can I tell you something?" asked Joyce. "I had two brothers, older than me. One of them died in Vietnam. We got his diary back after he died, and he went through some terrible things. He made some bad decisions, hurt people, killed civilians, it really messed him up. He put a bullet in his head because he was so ashamed of what he did." She looked directly into Bucky's eyes. "I wish, with all my heart, that he chose to come home. Even as messed up as he was, we would have been there for him, helped him and loved him. Without him, there's a hole inside that will never ever be filled again. I know we don't know each other very well but speaking as a sister and a mother, don't wait to connect with your sister. You have a chance to fill that empty space inside of her that's been there since you were declared dead. Excuse me."

Joyce pushed her chair away and went to the ladies' room. Bucky watched her leave and for a moment he felt like running out, but he breathed deeply and stayed, realizing that she was speaking from experience. For all of his advanced years he had to understand that the people he left behind suffered as well. When she returned, he stood up, held her chair for her and pushed it in before seating himself back down. Her eyes were red and puffy as she obviously had cried in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll try to find the courage to contact her. It's hard for me."

"I know. Is it one of the things on your blue book list?"

"Yes, it's there." He started to say something then stopped and looked away before coming to a decision. "Could you help me with some more things? Every day I think of another thing to put on the list in the blue notebook and it seems to get bigger instead of smaller. If it's too much, I understand but I could use some advice on things."

"Like what?"

Reluctantly, he handed over the blue notebook and she looked at the list.

GED

Connect with Rebecca

Get caught up on books, movies and music

Star Wars movies

Bridget Jones movies

Godfather movies

Mission Impossible movies

Harry Potter movies and books

Beatles, Rolling Stones,

Marvin Gaye

Motown

Heavy metal

Hip Hop

50 Shades of Grey books and movies

James Bond movies

Learn what women want now in life and in bed

Get a girlfriend

Better wardrobe

See Niagara Falls

See Grand Canyon

Go to San Francisco

"That's it?" she asked. "70 years a prisoner and this is it?"

"Well, some of them were Sam's suggestions for me to get caught up," he explained. "Others are things I wanted to do before the war, and some are from what I've heard other people saying. I know there's more, a lot more, but I have to start somewhere. How much more is there?"

"A lot," agreed Joyce, exhaling loudly then handing the book back, "but adding on to this list might make it seem like there's too much for you to cover. What items on this list are your priorities?"

"The GED because that's for my own sense of satisfaction, Rebecca because you're right. She deserves to see me again." His face turned pink once more. "I would like to know more about what women want and even though Sam says he'll help he always makes fun of me while he does it and it drives me crazy. I just want to know what's changed since I last slept with a woman. The clothing update would go hand-in-hand with that. When I was young, I was very well dressed when I went out. Jeans were for working, not going out for dinner in. T-shirts were for sleeping."

He sat back and slouched a little in his chair, looking and feeling like he was already defeated. Reaching out with one hand he grabbed his beer bottle and drained it, then raised it up for another. Joyce looked at him, wondering if she really wanted to get that involved in his life. She felt bad for him, she truly did but she had her own issues. What if someone had reached out to Allan? She closed her eyes for a moment. Why did her conscience do that just then, remind her that if Allan, her brother, had someone to help him deal with all of these warring emotions in him, he might not have taken his own life?

"Okay, here's the deal," she said. "I have the time to help you but there are some boundaries I will not cross. We'll research what books the library has on sex, and you will take them out. There is one title that was groundbreaking when it came out in the 1970s and I think it had a new edition in the early 2000s. It goes through sexual positions and whatever, so you know the mechanics. Do not discuss the details with me as I don't think I could stand the embarrassment. I don't even talk to my girlfriends about it. In the meantime, you can look up Cosmopolitan magazine and Men's Health magazine on your tablet. They always publish articles online that you can read for free. If you go to the side menu, the one marked with three little lines, you can go down the list to the Sex and Relationships heading. Don't ask me how I know this, I just do. They're both published by the same corporation so they should have similar advice as they likely share office space and writers. If they don't, use the Cosmopolitan information as that is supposedly geared to women and you want to know what women want. They also have lifestyle and fashion information. All of what they say, you can take it or leave it. There is nothing that says you have to do everything. Start slow and if it sounds icky, don't do it."

Joyce slouched back in her chair then reached for her glass of wine, draining it then raising it for a refill. She looked across at Bucky who had been writing her rant into his notebook and had an amused smile on his face. They both started to laugh and leaned forward, taking another slice of pizza each. After finishing his last slice of pizza Bucky began eyeing Joyce's and she pushed her tray towards him.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll get the books myself, either through the library or the book sales. Would you agree to a weekly movie night with me? What do they call it when someone makes you a list of titles?"

"Curate," replied Joyce. "You want me to curate a bunch of movies for you? I won't watch the 50 Shades of Grey movies with you. They're not that good anyways. Even the sex in them seems forced and frankly, a little icky to me." He looked askance at her. "Yes, I've seen them. I'm into old movies as well. We should start there because there are some incredible movies that you missed out on over the years. We can do an old one and one of the newer ones on your list – maybe even find a link between them. Oooh, we should do some movies that involve cryosleep. I know you lived it but there are some that used it as a plot point very effectively. Planet of the Apes, Sleeper, Alien, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Austin Powers ... Not all of them are dark dramas either."

Bucky looked amused again. It had been the right decision to ask Joyce out for dinner. She had the same combination of caring and no-nonsense attitude about life that his mother had. Even when she chewed him out, she didn't do it in a way that made him feel foolish or old. Maybe that's what he needed more than anything, someone who would be truthful but thorough as they helped him get used to this time.

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Author notes: The high school hallway referred to really existed at a school I worked at, and was enclosed after a young couple were found in the middle of something that they should have done somewhere else. The renovation to enclose that portion of hallway was done in record time.