The Family Man

Chapter 11

Patricia Lawford was not happy. This disappointment stemmed from your common shitty Tuesday.

Poor Pat had burned her tongue on coffee, forgotten to pay her electric bill and gotten a speeding ticket all in one morning. And now she bitterly sought to dump all of her frustrations on an unassuming brother who probably deserved it, judging by her most recent phone call with her favorite sister-in-law.

Also, working in a stuffy office building in Annapolis was making her a little stir-crazy. So Pat Lawford called in sick, took Route 95 South and parked at Bouvier Booksellers at eleven in the morning.

Inside, Mrs. Lincoln was imploring a young girl to buy the Sookie Stackhouse series over the Twilight saga. Unfortunately, this seemed like a lost battle. Pat grinned and waited at the front counter, inspecting a stack of mail. Mrs. Lincoln finally whipped around with a grin: "Ah, who have we here?"

"We've met, Mrs. Lincoln."

"I know, dear. Your brother's in the back contemplating suicide."

"Hey!" Kate's face shot up from a stack in the back, outraged.

The old woman shrugged, "Well it looks like it."

Snorting, Pat wove her way around the bookshelves and pushed into the storage room. Her brother's back met her. He was sitting in the center of the room, an automatic label maker in his lap. Jack didn't seem to be doing anything more than staring at the carpet.

"You know, they have prescription drugs for this kind of shit now."

Jack turned around sharply, his jaw slack. His face transformed in an instant. "Pat!" Suddenly she was up in his arms, laughing and struggling to break free.

"Holy crap, Jack," Pat teased, pulling apart mid-hug. "You act like you haven't seen me in years. I just bothered you guys two weeks ago."

"No," Pat murmured, grinning ear to ear. "No, it's been years. Only Christmases and the occasional phone call, you've been in California with Peter all this time!"

Pat arched an eyebrow and laid her palm flat against his forehead. "Sick, Jack? You start to sound loopy during a spike in temperature."

His expression changed, as if Jack suddenly remembered something vital. "Oh God, that never happened either. Shit. Fuck, it's so hard to keep track of this acid trip Alterno-life. You stayed close because I was still in state, right?"

Pat looked at him pleasantly and hopped up on onto the desk. "Yeah so, Jackie warned me about this."

"About what?"

"Oh, nothing. Just that you're going batshit crazy. Did you know that Bobby thinks you have minor head trauma?"

Jack made a face. "I was not aware."

"Tell me." His sister took an orange from a bowl on top of the microwave and began peeling thoughtfully. "Seriously, I'd like to know what's going on with you. Mrs. Lincoln thinks you're going to kill yourself, and apparently you don't recognize your own children anymore."

He opened his mouth and closed it. Something seized up in him, wishing desperately to explain what happened. But as he watched her, he knew he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Jack's shoulders slumped. "I'm just having a bad week."

"I'll say. What kind of a man abandons his family on a Saturday without saying anything?"

"Jesus, you really do talk about everything with Jackie."

"We're like this," Pat crossed her forefinger with her middle. "It's your fault for marrying somebody so likeable."

He thought about this. Whatever spark had been in Jackie Kennedy seemed washed out. Distant and wary. It was his doing and he knew it. Well, save for rare moments of alcohol induced bliss. Jack closed his eyes and was strongly tempted to bury his head in his hands and keep it there. Guilt and confusion had wracked him all night. All he wanted to do was confront Jackie about what she had done. About why she had never told him. But it was as if the rewind button had already been pressed. It had never happened.

Pat dunked her orange peel into the trashcan and cheered, oblivious to her brother's struggles.

Maybe you're stressed out," she offered helpfully. "Which is bizarre, because it was your job before this that was stressful."

He looked up with a jolt as she continued: "Then again, I never found politics appealing. But you were trying to hop that wagon off of the Senate and onto the Presidency and you were spreading yourself too thin. Too competitive."

"I was going to be president?"

"You were trying to work your way up, sure. But then the thing with Jackie's dad..."

"Right," he murmured, rising to his feet.

Slowly, the pieces of his life were fitting together. It was almost less of a headache than it was before.

"Anyway," Pat clapped her hands, "are we on for lunch? I'm craving paninis like a mother."

"Yeah, you're on," Jack smiled. She laughed and hugged him, and he suddenly felt true happiness amid all the confusion for the first time in days. His own sister, here with him. Maybe things were looking up.

The back door opened a smidge and Ari Onassis poked his head in. "Hey Jack, I'm out for lunch but Joe is covering—oh. Sorry, I didn't know you had company." He smiled at the pretty brunette next to his boss.

"It's fine. This is my sister, Patricia."

"Pleasure," Onassis extended a hand. "I'm Ari."

"Oh," she snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ari grinned and lingered. At last he said "See you around" in a decidedly awkward way and disappeared.

Pat slung her purse over her shoulder. "What a tool."

Jack snorted and grabbed his keys from the back counter as his sister held open the door for him.

"By the way," pat said, "I might have been snooping around your mail when I first got here. But the famous invitation finally came in."

"Invitation?" asked Jack warily.

"Well yeah," she laughed. "Lee's wedding invitation."

"Lee Bouvier?" concluded her brother, enunciating.

"No, Oswald," Pat rolled her eyes. "Yes, Bouvier. You're so slow today."

Jack sighed and shook his head. He was past arguing. Better to let every speck of news hit him as it came. Maybe there were no surprises left. "Right. Who's the lucky man?"

"Some Billings...Lem or something?"