The Family Man

Chapter 12

Bob Kennedy was, by nature, a bit of an ass.

Only in the sense that he had the tendency to let himself into the JFK residence, steal a can of Coke, and pass the time watching a Seinfeld rerun in their living room. This was usually indulged in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, after Bob would pick up little David Kennedy and Caroline Kennedy from the bus stop down the street. Jackie worked late on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Bob came home from work at three sharp. He was a bona fide babysitter for the typical Kindergartener. Two, in this case, since David and Caroline shared the same class. It had been a smart little arrangement between brothers.

Ethel had always asked her husband why he didn't just take the children into their own home. And he had answered honestly that the JFKs had a plasma screen, for God's sake.

Still, as a man who couldn't find it in himself to face the rest of the day, Jack Kennedy had come from work early that afternoon. And, upon swinging open the door, had thoroughly screamed his pants off.

David dropped his legos and Bob burst out of the armchair so quickly that he nearly knocked down the coffee table. Jack gasped.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

"It's Tuesday," Bob scowled. "Jesus, way to scare the kids. I think David crapped herself."

A little six year old with peered up, eyes saucer wide and bewildered.

Jack contemplated the scene around him and said lamely, "You picked them up?"

"Did you want to?" asked Bob, misreading his question entirely. "I didn't know you would be home early. Let me know next time."

"No I just-I guess I forgot." His eyes darted to Caroline, who was sprawled out on the hardwood floor, scribbling in a coloring book. "Buttons, how was school?"

The girl looked up for half a second. "Good."

"Learn anything new?"

"No."

"Cool."

Bob raised his eyebrows. "That's as introspective as it's gonna get, I hope you know that."

"Yeah," muttered Jack. He dropped off his messenger bag by the coffee table and collapsed onto the couch, massaging his temples. "Sorry for losing it. I realize how odd my behavior's been looking for the past week, and I apologize if I've been standoffish or inconsiderate. It's pretty clear that you help us out a lot by watching Caroline, and the last thing I should do is scream at you."

Bob laughed, "Aha, this is the one where Jerry drops his girlfriend's toothbrush in the toilet. Classic." He pointed at the television screen.

"What?"

His brother turned. "What? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Forget it," Jack snorted. He stood up and stretched. After awhile, he interrupted Bob: "Look, I'm really sorry, but I was kind of bent on watching something when I got home. Something important."

"No problem. Remote's yours."

"Um, it's not on cable. It's personal footage."

Bob raised an eyebrow. "Personal footage? What are we talking about here, a sex tape or something? There are children in the room, Jack."

"No, just family videos." The lie came to him quickly then: "Jackie wants me to convert VHS to DVD, so I have to see which ones are still in good condition."

"I'll watch with you."

"Isn't that a little invasive?"

"Yeah, but I'm already in your house."

Bob helped him carry over a stack of tapes from the study. Will selected a tape titled "Caroline Bouvier Kennedy" and hoped to God he hadn't been stupid enough to capture footage of the actual childbirth. Suppressing a cringe, he popped it in and sat cautiously on the edge of the couch. Beside him, Caroline continued scribbling and David took up his abandoned legos again.

A blue screen flashed away as Eunice's voice filled the room, giggly and excited. She narrated briefly and spanned out across a hospital room, littered with bouquets of flowers and blue themed baby balloons. "Eunice Shriver here, future Diane Sawyer, and first-time Auntie to one adorable, slightly premature Caroline Bouvier Kennedy!" The camera flickered across the room to where Janet Bouvier delightfully cradled a little wriggling bundle whose face was hidden from the camera. Beside her, Lee Bouvier's head was bent low as she cooed at her niece, her hair falling out of its braid.

And update on the new parents!" The screen darted to the hospital bed. Jack suddenly saw himself, a little younger and a little scragglier (loss of sleep was evident). He was laying on the bed, but leaning at the periphery. He grinned massively at the camera, and Eunice laughed at his happiness. Jackie was curled up next to him, her head cushioned by his shoulder as his fingers laced with hers. Her hair was sprawled out and a little frizzy, and color had just started to work its way back into her cheeks. Who knew how many hours had passed.

"How do you feel right now, Jack?" asked Eunice.

"Happy."

"Expressive, you are," grinned Bobby.

"Elaborate," Eunice continued, right on cue.

Jack laughed, "I don't think there are enough words. I'm a dad, it's so surreal. And he smells like baby."

As opposed to what, chimpanzee?" suggested Lee with a laugh.

"Anything else to share?" giggled Eunice.

"Um," he glanced back at his wife and she stirred when she felt him staring at her. "I kind of love this woman beyond any rational thought." Jack grinned and brushed his hand across her cheek and her eyes opened. Jackie broke out into such a soft, secret smile that suddenly reminded Darcy why he had ever fallen in love with her in the first place.

"Aw," said Lee, only mildly sarcastic.

Yeah, you're not touching me again," murmured Jackie, laughing.

"She's making me promise," Jack explained.

"We'll see how that goes," muttered his sister.

Janet Bouvier was absolutely affronted: "Eunice Shriver!"

"My bad, Mrs. B."

Jack found his mouth quirking up as he watched the scene unfold. Eunice continued to do some decidedly 'Eunie' things, like zoom-in on inanimate objects and stay there for fifteen seconds. And finally, the last fleeting still. Jack was resting back on the bed with Jackie, his arm around her waist. He was murmuring something into her hair and she giggled. And in that moment, despite the exhaustion and pallor, she seemed truly beautiful. Happy.

Until Eunice zoomed in on the dirt on the window pane and ruined the mood. Then the screen went fizzy with black and white.

A stretch of seconds passed where neither of the men said anything.

And then Bob added intelligently, "So, our sister can't film for shit."

"Yeah," Jack murmured, distracted. He watched the screen where the images had been, replaying what he remembered.

It surprised him then, the bizarre feeling that wormed its way into his chest and filled him with a deep, palpable sadness. It was only later that he realized it was regret. Regret and loneliness. How could he have missed this?