JESSIE
So, yeah, when Jorgen admitted that he didn't completely forget about me between high school and now I was caught a little off guard, watching him cook in the kitchen, cracking an egg with one hand, fixing us something to eat, then sliding the plate toward me like he didn't just say what he just did.
It's definitely a lot for me to handle, considering he never really left my mind since high school. It's not really that easy to go from loving someone like I did with him to being able to handle looking their kid in the eyes every day. He stuck around in my head like a bad taste would. Sometimes I would remember good things, but most of the time it was a reminder of how bad that decision was.
However, on the good days, I would remember how respectful he was about the whole thing, remember how good he really was to me, despite his situation, our situation, everything that was happening. He was a really respectful guy despite the drugs and despite his position and despite who I was to him.
So I guess I never really hated him, more just hated the decisions I made in relation to him. I could never really resent Jorgen.
But the fact that he never forgot about me, the fact that I altered the way he was able to have relationships, changed his life in a tiny way even when we hadn't seen each other in years? It wasn't something that I was expecting in the slightest.
"You said just a second ago that Ron thinks that I changed the way you were able to have relationships," I blink away from the document I'm reading, looking up at him. "What does that mean?"
He shrugs, looking down at what he's reading over his sandwich, "he goes on to say that I wasn't able to develop a relationship with someone that was any less than what you were to me. I have an odd memory of what was happening with us in high school and he said that it created a precedent for what I wanted in any relationship. You raised my standards very high."
"What... what are the standards?"
"Um," he looks up at me, eyes flickering over my face. "During our little spat, you were one of the only people in my life that just accepted I was like that. My parents wanted old me back, my friends wished I wasn't from the background I was from, kids from school didn't like that I had that privilege as well, it was a whole mess, but you in the middle of it, just saw me as who I was. None of you wanted to change any of me. It was a little safe spot for me. After I lost my leg it got worse, people really really didn't like who I was, what I looked like, all of that. I guess I just held you in my head thinking that if you were back in my life you'd be the same. You wouldn't care to change me, you'd see me as all of myself. If that makes sense."
"Oh," my mouth is a little dry.
"Where he says this changes things, though, is... gah, alright, this is weird to talk about with anyone but him. I had a sort of long term hookup with this girl about three years back, her name was Raja, she was a little odd, a senior at U of R, I was about two years older. She was my first anything after I lost my leg so there was a lot of territory there that I wasn't used to and she pressured me around. She wouldn't have known, I didn't act like I was uncomfortable, it's not something I'll ever blame her for. You get what I mean, yes?"
"Yeah," I nod, moving my fingers on his trackpad to keep the laptop awake.
"So it happened like that for, gosh, like six or so months? And it really was not good looking back on all of that, it kind of really messed with me but I ended it because I realized, honest to God, that I didn't need to stomach a relationship where she couldn't really look at me straight on because of my leg and she avoided putting her hands near my stomach because she was grossed out a little by the scar tissue there, and really all of it, but he basically says that the reason I was able to get out of that, because a lot of people would've stayed in it much longer than I did because it's incredibly addicting to have someone validate that you're still attractive after that long was because in the back of my head, you were perched up on my shoulder telling me that if I had gotten better before I could do it again. Reminding me that you... you loved me and my everything, not despite my everything."
I settle my hand over my mouth, processing that, "oh, Jay-"
"Shh, not done," he offers a weak smile. "So it went in a weird direction after that, I suddenly needed validation again because the way she treated me, especially with my leg, I hated it more than normal and after that ended I started back into my rather sexual streak I had during senior year, thus, now that I'm my own functioning adult, vasectomy, and thus a bunch of rather odd decisions that I don't really want to get into. And, I'll, I don't know, midwinter came around again and I just, I stopped, because I realized, I remembered how you loved me, how you treated me, how my brain extrapolated that out into how you'd treat me then too, and I lost interest. Because why would I go for anything else? Anything less than someone treating me like I actually mattered?"
"You're putting a lot of faith in me, Jorgen," I nudge his foot under the table. "What if I get your pants off and you have a... I don't know, a fish tail? Not so sure I'd be able to handle that."
He breaks his expression, laughing, "I assure you, I don't have a fish tail."
"Good, I'd be scared if you did."
"Anyway," he starts again, "that's all that is, that's what Ron explained to me, part of what you have been for me. If that's not too much expectation to drop on your shoulders at random."
"No, no," I glance back down at the papers. "We'll just need to take some time to get used to each other again, I think."
"Oh absolutely," he shakes his head. "I doubt we're going to just leap right at each other without some time to figure out our bodies in relation to all this again. It's been almost two years since I've had actual sex."
I snort, "six."
"I mean," Jorgen winces. "So we're both out of practice. But at least it hasn't been since high school?"
"Right, but very close," I pinch my fingers together. "I've only had sex with three people in my life, you, Evan, and Ben, the guy that I dated for about a year when Connor was two."
"Would I know said Ben?" Jorgen asks, frowning.
"No, he was a college kid at U of I. I never talk about him because he was... not very interesting? Is that a nice way of putting it?" I wince. "My mom liked him because she could push him around to do anything."
"Ah," Jorgen nods. "Interesting."
"We only had sex a couple times, honest, it... none of it was all that noteworthy," I wring my hands together. "He was studying to be an accountant."
"Yikes," Jorgen raises his eyebrows. "I mean, my Dad's an accountant, but, you've met him."
"What about you?" I ask, a little confused the second it's out of my mouth as to why I even wanted to know.
"How many people?" He breathes out. "God, um, I don't really want to think about that, ick, um, quite a few? Probably enough to have a pretty sturdy hockey team. Maybe not a full bench, but it would be enough."
My mouth pops open and he continues before I can say anything.
"I've had two very astonishing whore phases," he shrugs. "That's... that explains most of it. All of it."
I can't help but giggle at his word choice and he just smiles back, a little warm in the cheeks out of embarrassment.
"Alright, let's please finish the paperwork before I lose my mind," he clicks open his pen and that's that. We're back to work.
It takes another three hours to get to a stopping point where we then head out to pick up Connor from school. Jay's uncle offered to take Connor for the evening so we can keep working through the paperwork so the hour between school and when Bernie, who Connor refuses to call anything but Squid Man, comes to pick him up, we feed Connor, get him a little bag together, and then wait.
He's right on time, big smile on his face, standing in our kitchen in a jacket that Jorgen has the twin of, except instead of MEDICAL written big and red across the back as an identifier, his is blank on the back and just says Coach Hadley on the sleeve.
"Have him bring a toothbrush and pajamas too," he suggests. "I've got a spare room and you two need a night off, especially because I'm pretty sure with the way Jorgen works he'll struggle with this through the night if you don't get it done early."
I look over at Jorgen, a little uneasy but if Jorgen thinks that's a good idea I'm alright with Connor staying over.
He shrugs at me, "we will probably be up pretty late with this and if Connor needs us to come get him, their house isn't too far away and we can just go get him," he looks down at his kid. "Conn, how are you feeling about that?"
He shrugs, "I can stay over with Squid Man. We can have a sleepover."
"Cool," Jorgen nods.
That is an incredibly good solution to my nerves around it and Connor seems absolutely alright with it so I let it go, "sure, that works for us."
"Awesome," Bernie nods. "Conn, I have this lego set from when my sons were still in the house with me and it's been disassembled, but how do you feel about the Death Star?"
Connor's eyes go wide and he looks back at both of us, seeing if we share the same sentiment toward the prospect of this, then he looks back up at Bernie, "you have the Death Star?"
"An early version of it, yes," he smiles. "It's been waiting for a worthy opponent, it could be you."
"It's me," Connor decides.
Bernie looks up at the two of us, "Jorgen, you've given me the run through like eight times in the last three weeks on what he likes to eat and what he doesn't, so I've got that down, and I know that he's allergic to bees, though that's not really an issue in late November in Regina, and May is absolutely excited to have me out of her hair building Legos on a Friday so she can watch Project Runway in peace."
"Sounds like a plan," I respond. "If he wants to come home or you want to send him home, we can come get him."
"Of course," Bernie nods. "Alright, champ, we've got four thousand lego pieces to get to."
"Four thousand?" Jorgen whispers, mostly to me.
"Might take several weekends," I mumble in return. "I think we're losing Connor privileges on Friday's for the foreseeable future."
"Nah," he brushes his elbow against mine. "Knowing Bernie they'll be done in two weeks, if I'm being generous maybe by ten pm tonight."
"Scary," I smile.
We get back to work at five and by five thirty, our stopping point at three has a weird sort of breakthrough and suddenly we're not struggling to understand everything we have to understand.
And then it's watching dominos fall. We tear through the rest of the paperwork, labeling things as done as we do them, filing them into piles of things to keep in our possession and building the packet of things we have to keep and the one we have to mail.
Finding out how to go about this was definitely the hardest part of the process. We had to apply to Canada and apply to Saskatchewan for a second pass through in the provincial nominee filter. Jorgen was an absolute champion trying to get the information off their incredibly convoluted websites and then through the city offices.
"Okay," Jorgen sets down his pen. "I think that's it. I think we've got it."
"Really?" I walk over and look at it, having gotten up when I set down my pen to make some tea.
"Yeah," he slides me the final small stack of papers. "I've run my printer out of ink, my computer is almost out of battery, we've had to reprint more pages than I can count because of little screw ups, I spelled Connor's name wrong once, which was embarrassing, we've eaten close to nothing today, I'm a little lightheaded from staring at these papers for so long, but I think, after weeks of toiling with this, that we've got it." He looks up at me, hands on the stack of papers. "We should read them over all the way."
"Does Canada have those big blue mailboxes?" I ask.
"Yeah, but they're red. Why?"
"I kind of want to just throw it all in the envelope and then toss it in one of those tonight," I settle my hand on his shoulder, looking down at the front page. "Then we'll be done. My first job applications are in, Connor is in school, our stuff is moved into your house, and if we drop this off, we're clear."
He thinks on that for a second, "the one I'm thinking of is at the end of the block and one street over, it'll be a little walk but not that bad."
"Want to eat, check it over, then be done with it?"
"Absolutely."
***
yo, sorry, late chapter, again, the weird time goo where im on break and im not sure what day it is
also i've been workshopping a scene coming up for like 4 days straight and its going weird and things but i hope yall like it
-rabid