The Family Man

Chapter 19

It was totally true: hospital pudding was the worst.

Not Jack's head wound or grade 3 concussion. Or the sharp smell of antiseptics. Definitely not his crushed BMW ("Will insurance cover, 'cause the headlights are in the trunk"). But the pudding. Oh, dear Lord. The pudding.

"It's got the consistency of diarrhea, but it's kind of congealed and frozen at the bottom," Lem dug with a plastic spoon. "Sad part is, I can't seem to put it down."

He grinned from his seat, leather loafers propped up on the edge of the mattress. Jack wasn't very motivated to push Lem off. In all actuality, he didn't much have the physical strength to do anything. But he was grateful. Lem was a little weirded out by it. Their conversations would have long stretches of silence, interrupted by constant thank yous. And apologies. Jack Kennedy didn't really ever apologize.

"Don't be sorry," insisted Lem. "I'm just happy you're not dead. They called me from the ER, thirty minutes into my dinner. A little shocking. I got steak stuck in my throat."

It was a karmic bonus; having the best friend resurrected. But it wasn't like anybody else was at his side. Marilyn was out of town with Pat; she promised to arrive Monday night (not that he really craved her company). And Eunice and Bobby...

Will was heartbroken. It was hard coming to terms with the fact that, in this life, he hadn't spoken to his baby sister in a year. He had let his family crack into shambles.

Jackie.

Lem's voice distracted him from his own thoughts. And thank God, because he had been suggestively eyeballing a butter knife for the last fifteen minutes.

After awhile, his best friend's answers dwindled into nothing, and Lem reluctantly had to pull himself away from Jack's side. Any moodiness was mistaken for a warped version of Post Traumatic Stress. He would be discharged in two days, and Jack was pretty happy with the prospect of staring at a white wall until his brain leaked out of his ears. It would be a comforting way to go. Then he wouldn't have to think about her anymore.

Monday was the day. And not a moment too soon; Jack could feel himself getting stir-crazy. He had already seen a gangly attending named Dr. Onassis flirt with a couple nurses outside of his room. Paranoia was eating him up.

"So there really is no Dr. Onassis?" asked Jack.

His nurse de-velcroed the blood pressure monitor from his arm and sighed, "For the last time, Mr. Kennedy, I haven't heard of a Onassis on staff here. And I've been here for 13 years."

But he looks just like him, I swear. Am I hallucinating?"

"Well, you are concussed," she laughed. Her smile reminded him of Mrs. Lincoln. "I'll be right back."

Jack thunked his head back down on the pillow. More than anything, he wanted to sleep. Sleep, sleep, dreamless sleep. Not think. Thinking was painful. His thoughts would burst back and forth like a competitive ping-pong match. He rubbed his cheek. I need to shave.

The armchair next to Jack was empty. If he stared long enough, Eunice would materialize there and harass him. Or Bobby, tipping a beer in his honor. Or Caroline, building an intricate palace out of lego blocks.

And this was how Lee Bouvier found him.

"You know," she said casually, dropping a bouquet of flowers into his lap. "I would say you look good. But I'd kind of be lying. So, maybe in theory."

"Lee," Jack was startled.

"Hi," Lee grinned, kissing his cheek.

"I don't—what are you doing here?"

"Well," shrugged Lee, brushing her bangs out of her face, "Lem let spill that we were supposed to meet you for dinner last Friday. Imagine my shock when I learned that you had gone to the extent of getting into a car accident just to avoid me." Before he could respond, she laughed and sat in the armchair, "I'm kidding. Unless it's true. Which would be a little tragic."

How are you?"

"I'm okay. Just wanted to give best wishes for your health. It's been a long time."

"I appreciate it," Jack said meaningfully. "Thank you, Lee."

"Sure thing," Lee laughed, "I always liked you. Maybe against better judgment. Because after you left, I swore Jackie I'd hunt you down and string you up on a tree by your toes. Kind of like Mussolini. But a huge part of me still believes you've got a good heart. Go figure."

"The problem here is that you always have faith in people who probably don't deserve it."

"Yeah, it's a curse and a blessing."

Jack bent his head low and plucked at the flower petals in his lap. Lee stared at him thoughtfully.

"I'll save you the trouble: Jackie's fine."

Jack looked up quickly, confronted with the knowing smile on her face. Many years ago, he had made the grave mistake of mistaking Lee's beauty with vapidness. But she knew much more than he had ever given her credit for. "I was gonna ask."

Yeah, but you were practically choking on the words." Lee flashed a pity glance. "But Jackie's good. I think for once in her life, she's across-the-board happy. Comfortable living, job that she loves, caring and gorgeous boyfriend. And he can cook, so she has me there. They're buying an apartment soon. Wait no, sorry, condominium."

Jack's voice was tiny and flat to his own ears: "That's great."

"Congratulations on your engagement, by the way. I've met Marilyn; she's a sweetheart. Classy girl you have there."

"Oh, right—thank you."

The nurse returned and Lee got to her feet. She shrugged into her jacket, pulling her braid out from under the green collar. "You might want to put those in a vase," she pointed at the daisies. "Before you leave, I mean." Jack nodded and she lingered at the doorway. "It's good to see you, Jack."

"You too, Lee."

Fifteen seconds.

"Lee!"

The girl crossed the threshold again.

"Listen, I get that this is very impromptu and probably borderline creepy and inappropriate, but I need your sister's number. I have to talk to Jacqueline. And I know I might be risking her happiness and interrupting her life right now, but you're just gonna have to trust me on this, grab a piece of hospital stationery and let me speak to her. The bottom line is that I was too much of a selfish coward to show my face on Friday, and that needs to stop. Like, now. I need to see Jackie."

The nurse had paused.

Lee cocked her head and smirked, "Is this a closure thing?"

"No. It's a please-give-me-her-number-or-I'm-going-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-wondering thing."

"Get me a pen."