Chapter
JFK waited backstage of the annual Jewell family talent show. Really, backstage was just an adjoining room of the small indoor auditorium at the mountain cabin complex. One of the uncles—JFK couldn’t remember the name Clover had mentioned, but it started with the letter D—was singing a Weird Al Yankovic song. Before that two tweens had done a tap routine. The third act would be one that might be talked about for a very long time.
The very success of the skit depended on everyone in the family knowing about the incident in church between Justice and JFK. Or in other words, knowing what a hothead idiot JFK was, because they all already knew Justice had a stick up his butt.
In the two days since Clover had planned this, and Justice had agreed to it, JFK had wondered about a thousand times whether Clover really knew what she was doing. Sure she was considered a relationship expert in the family, but that didn’t mean she actually knew what she was doing or had any experience other than some vague involvement in Emily and Dom’s amazing love story.
Clover swore up and down that this skit was exactly what was needed, but to JFK it seemed more likely for this to blow up in his face and just make the entire family remember what an idiot he was. Not to mention embarrass him in front of Mercy, which was the opposite of what he wanted now that he wasn’t trying to sabotage his chances with her.
The uncle finished singing and JFK felt his pulse race. He looked over at Justice who wore a collared shirt with a tie and slacks. JFK wore his lucky Broncos jersey, and hoped the blasphemy he was about to commit against his team didn’t ruin the good juju of the jersey.
Justice raised his eyebrows in question and JFK nodded, acknowledging his readiness and willingness.
From the auditorium stage, the emcee said, “Great job, Uncle D! Let’s give him another big round of applause.” The audience hooted and hollered. “Next up: Clover, Justice, and … a special guest have a skit for our viewing pleasure. Give them a warm Jewell welcome!”
Clover gave them both an excited thumbs up, then walked out onto the stage, dragging three chairs with her. After ten seconds, Justice walked out. JFK counted to three and ran out yelling, “Taxi!”
At about the same time, Justice called for a cab as well. Clover, who was sitting in the front seat of the improvised taxi, mimed pulling over to the curb and both men stepped up to the invisible cab door.
Their eyes met, and each suspiciously and judgmentally examined the other—JFK in his Broncos jersey and Justice in his tie.
“Let me guess,” said Justice, “the … football stadium.” He said it as if he was licking a stadium urinal.
“Yep,” said JFK. “You heading downtown?”
Justice reluctantly nodded.
“Share?” They said at the same time. Then, “Share.” They both climbed into the waiting seats of the cab.
“My name’s Justice.”
“JFK.”
Introductions out of the way, they both pointedly ignored the other, looking out the window. A low buzz rolled over the hundred or so people sitting in the auditorium seats. Trying to be discreet, JFK lightly scanned the crowd for Mercy, but didn’t spot her right off. He did notice many of the Jewells leaning casually and whispering in someone else’s ear while keeping their eyes on JFK. Many of the people being whispered to shifted their eyes to JFK.
Oh yes, if he wasn’t well-known in the family this morning, he would be by the time this skit ended.
Out of the corner of his eye, JFK saw Clover making movements for the crowd. According to the script, she would be showing them two water bottles labeled, Truth Serum, then slipping generic water bottle labels over that.
“Water bottle?” she asked over her shoulder.
JFK said, “Sure,” and Justice answered, “Yes.”
They both accepted a bottle and JFK pretended to remove the lid and take a swig.
As JFK lifted the empty bottle to his mouth and faked drinking, he caught Mercy’s eye. She was sitting in a back corner next to Dom and Emily. It was hard to describe the look on Mercy’s face; the only thing he could say was it looked … alive. She was happy and also appeared curious.
He always thought he’d known how attractive she was, but every time he saw her, his expectations proved dramatically insufficient. What was he thinking even trying for a girl like her?
Emily shifted on her seat and drew JFK’s attention. She was even more curious than Mercy and looked ready to mock him to no end if he gave her any ammunition at all. It seemed to JFK as if she was telling him telepathically, Don’t sabotage yourself. You’re good enough.
“So you’re a Broncos fan?” Justice delivered the line while JFK still had the bottle to his mouth. JFK had been so distracted by Mercy that he’d been drinking way longer than the skit called for.
What was his line again? What had Justice asked? Oh yeah. The Broncos. Time to go into actor mode. The tough part would be trying to not sound sarcastic. In as flat a voice as he could manage, he said, “Nah. I just want my buddies at the fire station to think I’m cool so I waste hours and hours every week watching football. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I pay way too much for overpriced, scratchy jerseys that chafe the tender skin on the insides of my forearms. ”
“Football is the gladiator’s arena of the modern age,” replied Justice. “It’s barbaric and pointless.”
JFK didn’t think Justice needed to drink truth serum to deliver that line. “Unless you consider giving the fans a chance to beat their chests like apes, a valid point, I agree.” What was he saying? People here would hold his words against him for years. A few people in the crowd chuckled, but overall they weren’t fully in on the joke yet. There was nowhere to go but onward. “What’s that magazine?”
Justice pulled a folded magazine out from under his arm. “The Actuary.”
“Isn’t that insurance stuff about using long formulas to guess how long someone will live or what the chances are of a sixteen-year old wrecking daddy’s car?”
“Basically. I only use it as an insomnia cure,” said Justice with a straight face. JFK knew Justice loved the nerd numbers stuff, but Justice actually pulled the line off.
“It’s the middle of the day,” said JFK. “Why are you carrying it around?”
Justice looked at the magazine and said, “Oh, this one’s just a front.” He slipped the cover of The Actuary away, revealing an obviously fake cover that read Artsy Fartsy Magazine.
The audience cracked up, finally getting in on the gag.
With the faintest sneer, JFK said, “You like pointless art cinema films about nothing?”
“Love them,” said Justice.
JFK paused, maintaining the sneer as Clover had told him to do when they’d rehearsed. If Clover knew what she was doing, her family members were hanging on his response. It was the turning point of the skit where it would go from silly to completely absurd.
Transitioning to an excited smile, JFK said, “Me too!” As predicted the audience cracked up, but more importantly, Mercy was laughing harder than any of them. “Black and white films?”
“Yeah!” said Justice, as excited as JFK had ever seen him. “Why have color in movies just because the technology makes it so easy? What about dialogue? How do you feel about characters just saying what they’re thinking?”
“Dialogue is the worst in movies.” JFK tried to keep a straight face, but many members of the audience were wiping tears of laughter from their eyes.
“I know,” agreed Justice. “The problem with dialogue is it rams the message down your throat.”
JFK nodded, “Right? I want my movies to give me their highly interpretive message through their silences.”
Justice sighed in satisfaction. “Why aren’t there more movies with no talking? Just long stretches of sad violin music?”
“Because the movie-going public consists of drivel-craving ignoramuses.”
“Indubitably,” said Justice.
In unison, they sighed loudly then nodded in silence.
JFK looked at Justice, then scanned his tie and fancy shoes. “When I first saw you, I thought you were a stuffy, self-righteous prig.”
This was a dangerous part since each of them was speaking actual truth, not just truth-serum truth. The audience went silent, holding their breath. It was Justice’s turn for a pause and he turned exaggeratedly slowly toward JFK.
Cracking a huge smile, Justice exclaimed, “That’s because I am!”
The Jewell family hooted and laughed and clapped. JFK let out the breath he’d been holding in the whole time.
“When you climbed in, with your football jersey and fireman ball cap, I used my superior odds-making skills to deduct that you were most likely a knuckle-dragging clod incapable of any career outside of public service with the IQ of an NFL-watching ape.” He laughed sharply, bending over at the waist. “Boy was I wrong!”
JFK slapped him on the shoulder, perhaps just a touch harder than necessary, and with a loud laugh of his own, said, “No, you weren’t!”
They fake laughed along with the audience’s real laughter for an annoying length of time.
Clover made some driving motions then looked over her shoulder. “Here you are, sirs. Football stadium on the right, Museum of Insurance and Accounting on the left.”
JFK put his hand on a fake door handle, knowing that Justice was doing the same, and looked out at the pretend football stadium as Justice gazed at his nerd museum. Once again, they sighed in unison, then turned back around to face each other.
“Hey,” they both said at the same time.
“After you, sir,” said JFK.
“How kind,” said Justice. “The museum is going to be here forever, but I was reading in Artsy Fartsy that the Contemporary Museum of Exhibition Institute Centre across town has a non-objective art exhibit entitled Studies in White. Every piece in the exhibit is composed entirely of white paint!”
“No way!” said JFK. “I was going to recommend the Yak Hair Cenotaph they constructed on the site of the birth of the albino yak on this date 117 years ago. I mean, it would be amazing to be there on the exact date, but I can go some other time. I can’t miss Studies in White.”
“An entire cenotaph built of yak hair?” Justice looked at his watch, then up at Clover. “Driver! To the Contemporary Museum of Exhibition Institute Centre!” With a cheesy grin at JFK he added, “But don’t go far, because there’s a yak hair structure calling our name.”
JFK and Justice stood in unison and the audience picked up on the fact that the skit was over. They responded louder than they had all day. In the back corner, Mercy was on her feet, still laughing and wiping her eyes. Everything else aside, that made the skit a win in JFK’s book.
He turned to his co-star and saw him holding out a hand to shake. Pushing past the hand, JFK gave Justice a bear hug, picking him up off his feet and bouncing him up and down. When JFK set him down Justice was laughing along with the rest of the Jewells.
With a wave at the crowd, JFK jogged down the auditorium steps and up the side aisle toward where he’d seen Mercy. She was waiting for him at the top of the aisle, grinning brightly.
How did her beauty get him every time, even when he thought he was prepared for it?
She was smiling, but tentatively biting her lip and holding her hands together in front of her. The emcee was saying something from the stage, but JFK paid no attention, too busy trying to sort through his doubts about this woman as he climbed the final half dozen stairs. He felt many of the eyes of the people in the auditorium on them, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Mercy to look at them.
What should he say when he reached her? He wanted to say something about what a dork Justice was, or something insulting about the amateurish acts in the show, or, he didn’t know, just belch loudly or something worse to give her an excuse to push him away. It would be so much less painful than reaching out to her and having her shy away, or hitting him where it hurt when he was vulnerable. Just as she’d done after that kiss.
It wasn’t too late to run away. He could wave or make the phone sign with his hand toward Mercy, then duck out. That would be so much easier than taking a risk he’d never taken with anyone else.
But instead he drew on the wisdom that little Mrs. Wilson had given him about no one ever being good enough for their spouse. Another step and he thought about Clover hunting him down if he started doubting himself at this point. Two steps separated them but JFK had some momentum now, and thinking of how right Emily was about sabotaging himself got him up one more.
The last step loomed between them. And there stood Mercy, still grinning, but also a little unsure. As he had worked up courage to cross the final steps he’d thought the last one would be the hardest, but being so close, he had the best reason of all.
Mercy. She was enough, worth any risk. Why the perfect woman would be interested in him was beyond comprehension, but after keeping himself away from her for so long, he was suddenly basking in the glow of the sun after a month of cloudy days. Why had he ever doubted? What in the world could possibly make him not take the biggest risk ever for a chance with her?
JFK took the last step and spread his arms. Mercy leaned forward immediately into his embrace as if they’d rehearsed some cue.
She wanted him, too. Probably not as much as he wanted her, since that was impossible, but he suddenly forgot all those other reasons that had brought him back to her because the only reason he needed was her. And now that he was allowing himself to open up to her and actually touch her, he knew he’d made the right decision. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Learning manners and giving up his home brew felt like they were a million years ago and as inconsequential as losing a penny in the couch cushion.
He was hugging her. He was hugging her! And she was hugging him back, arms under his, softly rubbing his back.
JFK didn’t have a bad life. Not anymore. But it definitely wasn’t a life that made him feel blessed by any means. Until this moment. Holding Mercy so close, smelling her deep vanilla scent, feeling the softness of her body against him, being accepted and wanted … JFK was happier than he’d ever been in his life.
That day when he’d made his move and been pushed away was a million miles behind them as well. He still had no idea what had freaked her out that day, but he was ready to take the risk all over again.
So he did the next natural thing and turned his head as he leaned away from her, then closed his eyes and kissed her. The moment his lips met her soft, accepting lips, he felt his turn up in a smile and that life-highlight happy feeling expanded by a factor of a hundred.
The crowd went wild!
It took JFK a second to realize that the crowd wasn’t in his imagination. Mercy’s family was cheering and whistling.
As he pulled his face away from hers, he caught a glimpse of her mischievous smile. She hadn’t minded the public display of affection one bit.
“C’mon,” she whispered in his ear, practically turning his legs into jelly with her mere breath. “Let’s continue this somewhere more private.”
JFK thought his face might catch fire from blushing so hard as Mercy took him by the hand and led him from the auditorium.
The catcalls that followed them out only made him blush harder.