Just another magical crack fic

The Shakes

It seems that everyone in my life needs a heart-to-heart all at the same time. It's extremely stressful and certainly not what I signed up for when I decided to have "friends." Despite my best efforts to determine some romantic intentions with Tate, too many things were left unresolved. He seemed dissatisfied and I was frustrated at the lack of finality of our post-coital discussion. Apparently, the answer, when someone is stupidly pledging their heart to you, is not "that sounds great, but can't you step it back like three steps so we don't fuck each other over?" There was yelling, there were slammed doors, and now we're in some sort of strange limbo.

The next big talk I have on my list is with Jack. Truthfully, it would probably be easier if I talked with Charlie first, especially after finding out that Jack is, in fact, NOT a merman, as we had all been led to believe. However, Charlie has been conspicuously absent after his return from the beach trip. Apparently there was some sort of accounting retreat (aka frat boys in Patagonia vests swinging from hotel chandeliers in Atlantic City) that was, in Charlie's words, "Hella more interesting than whatever this (waves metaphorical hand at me) is. However, because I am empathetic as fuck, I recognize that Charlie needs space and time to have this conversation. Surely, *surely* being at the fucking beach with his erstwhile "merman" has clued him in to some extent. He cannot be as oblivious as he seems. Right? He's a grown ass man. He is taking time to reflect and gather his thoughts before we have this conversation.

Or maybe he's just getting high on the boardwalk with a bunch of toolbag accountants.

And so, here I am, waiting on my patio for Jack to finish a phone call. We decided that our regular coffee arrangement was not sufficiently private nor alcoholic. I am more than a little antsy, not only because of the discussion topic, but also because the last time I drank on my patio with Jack, we unwittingly went to second base.

The patio door slid open, and I hastily blew smoke between pursed lips and mashed my cigarette butt into the ashtray next to my wine glass. Jack just seemed to bring out the chainsmoker in me. "You got another one of those?" Jack asked, as he sunk down into the chaise lounge next to mine. I shifted the ashtray between us and tossed the pack over after pulling another cigarette out for myself. Maybe we could just not talk. Maybe we could just sit here in the sunset and chill on the patio getting lung cancer.

No such luck.

"You know why they call me Shakes?" Jack asked me, propping the unlit cigarette between his lips and breaking the sweet, merciful silence.

"You know I don't," I replied, unintentionally vague about whether I knew the answer or the fact that I don't actually call him by the stupid nickname.

"Well, when Lana's mom got pregnant, I split for a while. We didn't get along all that well from the beginning, and we were just sort of hanging out when we found out we were pregnant. I took off, told her to do whatever she wanted to do." My mouth hung open for a second because literally the only thing I like about Jack is what a good dad he is. "I was just so scared," he continued. "That wasn't what I wanted at all. I didn't really want her." His voice faltered here, and he took a brief breath and a long drag. "I didn't want the responsibility. I was still young, ya know? I had this idea that it would all go away if I could ignore it. It was probably the least I ever had my shit together in my entire life." I couldn't even enjoy that last statement coming from him because that was my life right now and I could definitely empathize.

I left him space to continue, but he just stared off into the backyard and let his cigarette burn down. After what seemed like a decade, I finally asked, "So what happened? I mean, you obviously changed your mind."

A small, half-smile pulled at Jack's lips and he huffed a little laugh. "Yeah, I obviously did. My ex got into a car accident a couple months after I dipped out on her. I was interviewing around, trying to move away and start over. I figured she would sue me for support or whatever if she wanted to keep the baby, but I wasn't going to get involved with her. Then I got this call that made my blood run cold. I was her emergency contact, and they needed to do surgery right away. She was only 29 weeks pregnant, and they had to deliver Lana early. Even though I didn't really want to be with her, we got married by a JP so I could help with the medical bills and stuff. I felt like that was the least I could do, you know? I felt like such an asshole because I walked out, but then there was this bigger thing that hit me so much harder. I saw this tiny little alien person in the NICU – Lana was in the NICU for almost three months – and I couldn't touch her. They tried to get me to touch her, for bonding and all that, but I felt like I was so disconnected from her, that I didn't deserve to be there. I had left. I had wanted her gone, and this awful shit went down. Lana was doing much better, but she still needed observation, so I would go and sit with her after work. I'd go sit in the corner of the room where her incubator sat and just watch. I didn't want to get too close or too involved. At some point, a nurse finally called me out on my shit. She said she knew whose daddy I was, and if I wasn't going to act like it, I needed to get the hell out. She lifted the tiny little body out of the incubator and practically forced Lana on me." He slowed his speech thoughtfully and he emphasized each of his words. "When I first held my baby, she was two months old, and I was wracked with guilt and sadness and happiness all at the same time." Jack's voice cracked, and I could sense the tears starting to form in his eyes. He made a clandestine swipe at his cheek and rested his head in his hand. "She made me literally shake. It wasn't the only time, either. Throughout the entire hospital stay and for several months after we got home, whenever I held Lana, I would shake with relief, fear, agony, whatever I was feeling, and I couldn't hold it back. Everything poured out of me when she was in my arms." He halted and cleared his throat, chasing it with some wine.