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JESSIE
"I hate to offend you if I'm wrong, but am I... involved?"
Jorgen's eyes rest on me, eight years later but still harboring the same intimidation.
I swallow, hard, knowing how he reacts to this very much could be my end-all be-all of survival. I get support from him and Connor and I are better off. I don't get support from him and it's all an uphill battle from rock bottom.
"I didn't mean for it to happen, I just, one day and then I couldn't do anything-"
"Jess," he clears his throat, "you're not at fault."
"I-I-" I shut my mouth, knowing nothing good is going to come out if I keep blabbering at him.
"Winter break of senior year?"
I nod.
"No offense, you weren't seeing anyone else?"
I shake my head.
"Just me?"
Nod.
"Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to seem rude or accusatory with that I'm just processing," he runs his hands down his face, "and why are you here of all damn places? You seem to be living here."
I wince.
"Is it family? Did you run out of money? is there another reason?"
"My mom, uh," I clear my throat, "it's just, Connor is... you know... like you, and she didn't..."
"What do you mean Connor is like me?"
I look up at him. I'm a redhead. Pure irish. So are my parents and their parents and their parents. We look like we have more to talk about with a bartop than another person. Sunburns and a prominent alcoholism gene, that's me.
Jorgen, Jorgen I don't even know. He's so not. He's tall and sturdy, nothing but a demand for attention, Michaelangelo's muse. He's interesting in all aspects, the only thing people find interesting about my family is our hair and anger issues.
"Nevermind," he says, "I know what you mean."
"And so she's been... mad," I clear my throat, "and, I don't know, the situation snapped."
He stays quiet, neverending eye contact with me.
"It's my fault, really-"
"If she's a racist then it wasn't ever your fault," he stops me.
"But that's not..." I shut my eyes and try to force myself to forget that he's here, that it's him. "I caused the argument, I was abrasive, I should've been self sustaining by now and-"
"You're twenty five. Not many twenty five year olds can self sustain much less self sustain with a child in Chicago, I'm assuming she wanted you to take him with you."
I swallow, "you self sustain." The only reason I know that is because when I moved here they told me as much about his situation as they could. He's working for an NHL team, he's a trained paramedic, he lives alone in Canada, he works with his uncle, he got taller since high school, he has an insanely well paying job, he keeps the Barn afloat when they can't.
His eyebrows go up, "I have had absurd luck, I live in a city a lot cheaper than this one, I have specialized education from a freedom of opportunity, and I do not have to sustain myself and a child. I am a fluke and I have entirely benefited from everything thrown at me. You, I assume, have not."
"Um, no," I mumble.
"How much money do you have access to?"
I shake my head, "almost none. I used..." I pause, "I used to be able to siphon out of my college fund but that's in their control."
"So you don't have access to it anymore? How much do you think was in it?"
"Forty... fifty thousand dollars? Maybe? It was more but I've been having to use it to pay for Connor."
He sets his hands on top of his head and then leans his hips back against the counter, taking a minute to think, "listen, Jess, I dunno what to do to help-"
"You don't ha-"
"I do."
"No, Jorg-"
"Listen to me," he stops the words dead in my mouth, his tone of voice flipping so easily from gentle conversation to a tone of unyielding opinion, telling me he's not backing down from this. "I'm helping. In any and every way you allow me to."
"I-I-"
"I don't know what to do about this. I don't know where to start with this. However, because of your situation and my relationship to you and him, I will be helping as much as I can, my parents too-"
"Jorgen, they don't have to be involved this is a-" my hands are shaking out of nerves, knowing one wrong move in this conversation will cost me, "this is my issue and-"
"Jessie," he stops me again. "I've never dealt with kids before outside of emergencies and you are on your own almost completely without senior adult assistance. My parents raised two exceptionally difficult kids. I'm involving them unless you have an argument that doesn't consist of not wanting to bother them with the issue at hand."
I stay completely quiet, hands wrung together in front of my body. He's putting me in an awful spot and I know I need that help. I just don't want to admit to needing that help. I've relied on other people for so long I don't need to become indebted to another group.
"Where do you work?"
"A dentist's office, right outside of U of I, Chicago."
He puffs out his cheeks, "do you have a lunch break?"
I shake my head.
"When do you get off for the day?"
"Six."
"When do you go in?"
"Eight."
"Who picks Connor up?"
I wince, "Kazian, Ian and Pitty, Duke, and Luka have been alternating through different shift blocks at their works to get him when he's done and keep track of him back here."
"Who is it today?"
"Luka."
One of his eyebrows raises, "you realize that it's Luka, right?"
I nod.
"Okay," he stops and thinks, "is it okay if I come get you from work and take you back to my parents house to talk about how we're going to help you fix this?"
Instantly, I'm dreading it, "it works, I guess."
"Good."
We're cut short by Connnor sprinting back down the stairs, Kazian hot on his tail. He skids to a stop on our side of the counter and when Kaz approaches it, takes off again around the side, sprinting through to the living room area and back toward the stairs.
"God he's fast," Kazian whips around to chase.
There's a soft oof from halfway up the stairs, "oy, what are you sprinting around for at five in the morning, Conn?"
"Kazian is threatening me with brushing my hair!"
"He won't give you a mohawk. Where's your mom? She's the best with your hair."
"Downstairs with a big guy she said was scary, I don't think he's scary, though."
There's a pause, "what does he look like?"
"A little angry, he's got a cool looking watch. He doesn't look like you."
A longer pause, "what was on his shirt?"
"Dunno, it was black, though, maybe blue too."
An even longer pause, and then a shout, "Jorgen?"
"Surprised you didn't hear me break in!" Jorgen calls back, a slight lift to one side of his lips.
"You didn't say you were getting back today!" There's a movement on the stairs and before I know it, Duke is standing in the kitchen with Connor slung up over his back.
"My flight got moved," he reaches his hand forward and does a little fist bump maneuver with Duke.
Duke looks over toward the stairs, "Luka! Luka get out of bed!"
There's a loud groan from upstairs.
"Jorgen's here!"
The irritated groaning stops and then I hear feet hit the floor. Connor, still on Duke's back, is playing with the twists in his hair.
A thundering of feet down the stairs and a blur of blonde hair later, Jorgen gets thrown a little to the side by a hug.
"Gimme a hug, bitch!" Luka shouts, ruffling Jorgen's hair and jabbing his sides with his hands, "how's Canada, how's the peg leg? Any girls? Any new hockey things? How long are you back?"
Jorgen rights himself again and lifts his hands up, pulling his hair back into the tie that was keeping it in place, "Canada is fine, cold, but fine, leg's alright, very few girls, no new hockey things, I'm back for ten days."
"Very few?" Luka puts his hands on his hips, "listen if I was that hot I'd fuck so much. You lack courage. Probably because nobody wants to take off their clothes because it's Canada. Anyway, ten days? Why does this shit keep getting shorter every year? Have you met Jessie yet?"
He nods over to me, "yeah I've met- re-met- Jess, and it's shorter because I have a volunteer spot with Regina EMS and Fire this summer so I need to be back before that starts."
He rolls his eyes at Jorgen, "I'm Jorgen and I have so many people that want my attention oooo I have a first responder job-"
Jorgen smacks Luka upside the head softly, but enough to knock him to the side a little. "I'm coming back at the end of the summer, jeez, I'm just trying to avoid Peter."
"Isn't he like thirty now? He has to have simmered down."
Jorgen shrugs, "twenty eight. I'd stay longer but he's getting married and no he hasn't simmered down."
"He's getting married?" The whole kitchen is now fully paying attention to Jorgen. Connor is not, but that's because he's looking out the window at something.
"Yeah, he is. June 29th," Jorgen yawns, "I'm avoiding it with a first responder requirement that I made up. I could definitely take that time off to be here but no way in hell am I going to his wedding."
"... he's your brother though?" I mumble.
Everyone sucks in a breath all at the same time and I immediately understand that what I said was not a widely approved sentiment.
Jorgen's demeanor changes. I don't know if he changed his position at all, nor his expression, but suddenly the energy in the room has gone dead cold and I know it's him that's causing it.
"Peter Hadley is no more my brother than anyone you could point to off the street." Dead. Cold. "So no, I won't be going to his wedding."
I step backward away from him, laterally placing myself behind Duke, "sorry, I didn't know."
"I know a Peter," Connor kills the tension, "he's nice, though. This one doesn't sound nice."
"What's he like?" Jorgen sits back against the counter and the weight in the room lifts. Even the rest of the guys relax down, Kazian unfreezing and heading to the fridge, Luka hopping up on the counter and stretching his arms. I feel it too, like a rod has been taken out of my back with Jorgen's change in demeanor.
"Well," Connor flops his chest forward across Duke's head. "He plays tag with me as recess and he's too fast so I stay away from him. But he's really big so he's bad at hide and seek. He makes us all play tag all the time because he's the best at it."
"Well maybe you should tell him that you should play different games if he's making you play tag," Jorgen is eye to eye with Connor despite Connor being up on Duke's shoulders.
"But I don't want to be mean to him and tell him that."
Jorgen shrugs, "you don't have to be mean to be in charge."
Connor frowns, "but the nuns are mean, they're in charge."
"But you don't have to be, you can be nice and in charge."
He seems to think about that for a moment, I know Connor's Evil Idea Creation face better than the back of my hand, "how do you get in charge?"
"Act like you are and it'll happen."
Connor tries Jorgen again, "how?"
Trying not to smile, Jorgen responds, "if you're confident about it, you're automatically in charge. People look to the most confident people in a group. Say stuff like you mean it and think about what you say. That's about the easiest way to pull it off."
Connor, getting let down from Duke's shoulders so Duke can go, first off, fix his hair, and second off, get to work, is still staring up at Jorgen like he's some kind of prophet. "What do I say?"
"Just tell everyone you wanna play a different game, easy as that."
"But what if it hurts Peter's feelings?"
"Negotiate."
"What's that?"
Jorgen's eyes flicker up to me for a moment before I see a tiny fraction of Connor's Evil Idea Creation face reflected in him. Uh oh. "Negotiating is when you discuss your options and make compromises that please more than one party."
"I'm not going to any parties?"
"Party as in group of people with the same opinions," Jorgen responds, "so you talk about what you want to do and what he wants to do and say that today you'll play a different game and tomorrow you'll play more tag. Then hold true to that or else you're being mean and a bad leader."
Connor's eyes narrow, "but what if he doesn't want to play a different game."
"Give him incentive."
"What's that?"
"Reasons to play a different game," Jorgen shrugs, "offer up similarities between tag and whatever other game, lots of running, places to showcase his speed. Compliment his talents. You're trying to win him over and get what you want so that you can get what you want more often."
Connor, looking like he's been blessed with some sort of secret information, "does it work on everyone?"
Kazian leans over to me, then in a whisper: "you know how I told you that I thought Jorgen would be a good figure in Connor's life?"
My attention is drawn back to the two of them interacting: "If you're confident enough that it's going to work, it will."
Kazian continues: "I lied, this was a horrible idea, Jorgen's poisoning him with his a-type person-in-charge personality. It makes sense because Connor is a leo and Jorgen is an aries-"
"What does that mean?"
"You don't know your zodiac signs? I swear when I was a repressed scene middle schooler I knew these fluently, whatever, they're both fire signs, so the chances that Jorgen is passing on his naturally completely in charge personality to your kid are high and this just made them-"
"Do you think I could get longer recess?"
"-higher."
Jorgen gets a slow and easy grin at that, "absolutely. Bring evidence and research. You got pretty privilege from your mom so that'll help too and you're going to need a hell of a convincing smile but you totally got it."
"What's pretty privilege?"
"People listen to attractive people. You're a smart mind with a cute face, use it."
Connor spins on his heels to me, Darth Vader shirt and ridiculous grin.
"Connor, listen, don't try to argue for longer recesses, I don't need to be getting calls from school," I say, patting his head.
"Alright, Mom," he's not fooling me with that.
"Connor."
"I know, I won't."
"You better not."
***
i just got the second dose of the vaccine but tomorrow is Cowboy day at school (it's spirit month for the seniors because I'm graduating) and i have literally the best outfit for it with full on overalls and a cowboy hat so I better not be too sick. I do have to be a little sick though because there's a track meet tomorrow and they put me in the 200m even though I do only throwing. Just flat out in the 200 for some damn reason. I look like I'm fast but let me tell you, five foot ten and no muscle mass does not get moving as quickly as you'd hope.
anyway
-rabid