"There it is... where the young minds of Bowie are molded and shaped, or whatever."

JC slowed, and then stopped in front of a sprawling group of brown brick buildings. It looked like the typical elementary school, as if they're all born from the same plan. Single story floor plan- check. Giant flagpole- check. Circular Drive for bus pick up and drop off- check. Darkened windows so students can see out, but outsiders can't see in- check.

"And further up the road, here-" JC pulled out onto the street again and drove a few blocks to a larger building, made from the same brick, with the same giant flagpole, same blackout windows, but instead of Bel Air Elementary, the sign in front of the building boasted Bel Air Junior- Senior High: Home of the Bobcats.

"There actually used to be two separate schools. The Junior high was just what they called the Annex. And then in the 10th grade you went to the High school, the big building. This is all new, though," he pointed at the four story, massive complex. "They combined the Junior and Senior High a couple years ago."

"I've heard of that. It kind of seems like a lot of kids would get picked on."

"Yeah. But then when you're a senior, you got to do the picking." He paused and then mumbled something like, "If you actually got to go to the school."

"Well, so... how did they handle school for you? They just sent homework for you?"

"Yep. All my teachers would send it to our tutor down at Disney, and he'd make sure it got done. We had school before anything else, and my parents were real strict on that. Good grades, or they'd pull me. And they weren't kidding, man."

"I heard you were a little math whiz."

"Did ya?" His eyebrows rose for a second and then fell and he winked. "Wasn't that hard to me, I guess. And the sooner everyone finished the sooner we were done, so... I helped."

"Well, so...could you come back, for graduation?"

"Yeah. I made sure I could come back and graduate with my friends. That was cool. We had a little ceremony on MMC, which was nice, but..." His voice drifted off, maybe to where his eyes went. He seemed so far away, slowly canvassing the building from one end to the other.

I thought back to my high school experience, which was good, but not especially memorable. Still, I wasn't sure, looking back, that I'd have been willing to trade hanging out with my friends for hanging out with scripts and cameras, or going out for sports and going to games and parties and having a part time job for rehearsals and tapings and what had to be a sheltered existence. How he wasn't more messed up, I wasn't quite sure, but I figured-hoped, anyway-that it had a lot to do with Roy and Karen.

"So, here's my youth, in a nutshell." The trance had broken and JC pulled out again, driving slowly down the empty road. "Everything along here-pizza shop, 7-11, comic book store... we were in and out of these places all the time." 

He leaned over on one elbow, mindlessly chewing a thumbnail as he drove, his eyes traveling from one side of the street to another. Several blocks later, he sat up and gripped the steering wheel and sped up.

"One more stop, and then it's on to DC."

Minutes later, we were turning into an older neighborhood, onto a quiet, tree-lined street. Lawns and driveways were covered in leaves of multi-colored hue, a leaf or two floating on an occasional wind that drifted through crisp fall air.

JC stopped in front of a cute little ranch house-brick front, cream colored siding, single car garage, a window near the front door that must have been the kitchen, so "mom" could watch her kids get off the school bus or see when "dad" came home every night. Despite the cold weather, the lawn was lush and green, and mostly free of leaves and twigs.

"It's bigger than it looks. But that's it. That's home."

It was... surreal. To be sitting in a car, with him, looking at a place he'd called home for so long. Before there was the house in Winter Park with the ivy crawling up the side, there was this rancher, with a gorgeous bush next to the front door. Before the stark white mountain-top LA mansion, there was this little house in Bowie, MD, likely bursting at the seams. Having met the Chasez family, I imagined it to be full of fun and laughter, some scolding and discipline, but also a lot of love.

"Your family hasn't lived here, for awhile."

He shook his head, his lips in a side downturn. "Nah. After Tyler graduated high school, everybody kind of went to Florida. Then my mom got a job in Chicago, and so did my dad. And now they're kind of nomadic, between the two. Chicago winters are rough on my dad, so... Florida is where he likes to be. Tyler followed me to LA so he could go to Law School."

"Can I ask a personal question?"

He reared back a little, like he was surprised I would think I couldn't. I wanted to be respectful, of course. "Sure, you can."

"Who sent to Ty to Law School?"

JC laughed, and ducked his head a little. "I know what you're thinking. But my parents sent him. And sent Heather to Vet School."

I blinked. "Uh huh."

He laughed again, but squirmed a little. "Okay, it's... it's not a secret or anything. They had help. But the bulk of it was them. And Heather got paid to get her Master's, so... they really just had to concentrate on Tyler. He worked for it, though. No free rides in our family. That's like... the motto."

I changed the subject back to something safe-the house. It made me uncomfortable to see him uncomfortable. "So, who lives here, now?"

"My cousin, actually. My uh... did you know my Uncle adopted a kid?" I nodded. "Well, he, my cousin, the adopted one, owns this house. Last I heard, he did anyway. It'd be totally embarrassing if I like, walked up in there and someone else lived there."

I giggled at the mental picture. "All ‘heyyyy. It's your cousin, man'! And it's totally someone else."

"Yeah, so maybe I'll confirm it before I go knocking down the door." He eyed the house again, like he didn't want to leave it. "We have other places to get to, anyway. We'll come back, if we have time."

"Okay. On with the show."

"Yep. On with it."

JC sighed, very heavily, so heavily he seemed to blow all of the air out of his lungs and he started to cough. He put the car in drive, and pushed forward. Several turns and side-streets later, he took the exit west, passing directly underneath a sign that announced ‘Entering District of Columbia'.

I chose not to talk during the trip-mostly because I didn't think JC would be listening anyway, and because he seemed to need the quiet. Whatever he was gearing up for, he had been gearing up for, it seemed, weeks. Farbeit for me to disturb his process. I didn't mind the quiet, anyway, and watched out of the window as DC went by. Except for the occasional tap on the arm and point to some monument or museum or historic building, JC was quiet and lost in his own little world.

We seemed to have been driving for quite a while. Certainly past the ‘main part' of DC, and coming closer to some rougher areas of town. I kept glancing over at him, thinking maybe he was lost, but I could see in his eyes and the decisive way he was driving that he knew exactly where he was and exactly where he was going. And then, all of a sudden, he pulled over, onto a random street, and parked.

"We won't stay long, if you're worried about your car," he said, unsnapping his belt and popping the door latch. I guessed we were getting out, here.

I stepped out of the car and was instantly shocked. The area we were in was very rundown. Houses were just barely standing, some completely boarded up. The lawns, if you could call them that, were in complete contrast to the lawns in Bowie. They were mostly dirt, yards full of garbage and old cars.

JC reached for my hand and I took it, letting him wind his fingers between mine and hold on tight. I couldn't have pulled away if I tried-and I wouldn't have pulled away, even if I could. I walked close to him, fell into step next to him, even though he was walking kind of slow-plodding, wandering, lazing down the street. In the distance I heard music thumping, a few people yelling, some old guys cackling and laughing at each other.

We walked on.

The street came to a dead end. Just... stopped. A large green dumpster sat at the dead end, full to overflowing with trash that had to be weeks old, at least. Flies buzzed and circled- I swatted and swatted but couldn't get them to go away. We walked past the dumpster, onto a gravel path, behind a little culvert and stopped. And then turned around.

"And this is... my other home. We used to live here."

I breathed in, the stench filling my nose, and breathed out. Taking it all in. I couldn't imagine living in this place, a place of desolate depression. A neighborhood full of the downtrodden and forgotten, people dumped in the same places as the daily garbage. I already wanted to cry.

"She had a car, at least. An old beater thing. Sometimes it ran. Sometimes it didn't. When it got really bad, or someone would hurt her or threaten me, she'd... do something... for money..." He drifted off and then glanced at me. I nodded that I understood. Regina ‘did things' for money, too. Which is why I started giving it to her, so she wouldn't have to ‘do things' for money, anymore.

"And uh..." He swiped under his nose a few times, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Trying to push the words out. 

"Well, she'd drive the half hour or whatever to Roy and Karen's and drop me off. She'd never stay long, herself. Long enough to get a shower something to eat, but she'd always says he had to go, and tell me to be a good boy and she'd be back.

"And while she was gone, you know, life was good. Karen took good care of me, even though she had a baby. Tyler's never like, known a life where I wasn't his brother. And she had Heather. And then one day, my mom would come back and be like, it's time to go. You're getting too comfortable. Life isn't always this easy; I keep trying to tell them that.

"So we'd leave, and come back here. And... live. Thankfully, I only really remember the last year or so of life out here. But what a fucking year to remember."

JC turned away for a second. I squeezed our hands together, just to remind him I was there. When he turned back around, he was blinking, and red in the face, and his eyes were glassy.

"One winter, it was pretty bad out here. We didn't have any food and no one was coming for her to... ‘do things' with, for money. So she sold some... stuff she had bought, for gas. And she drove me to the house. To Roy and Karen's. And she left. And she didn't come back, for awhile.

JC talked into the air, the sky, into oblivion. To me, to himself, to no one. I had the feeling this was either the first time, or the first time in a very long time he was telling the story.

"I think I was like, five. Turning five. Something like that. Or already five?" He paused to think then shook his head. "I don't know. Karen was doing her best to teach me stuff at home, but I mean... I'd been out in the world, you know? And my mom, she never talked to me like I was a kid. So, I knew things I shouldn't know, and didn't know things I should. I knew what a condom was, and what blow was, but not what comes after J, in the alphabet. Heather was smart, and I wanted to be like her. She knew all that stuff. And I wanted to go to school.

"So, a lot like Regina, she'd pop in and out. And one night, in the middle of the night, we hear this BAM! BAM! BAM!  on the door." He punched the air, violently, to mimic the force against the doors that night. I almost heard it in my mind, and felt the fear in my heart.

"And then again BAM! BAM! BAM! and it's her. And she's..." His voice broke, and he paused. I squeezed again, just a little message to him. He cleared his throat and continued.

"So, she's screaming give me my son, you're trying to take my baby, give me my son! Well, apparently Roy found her and offered you know, to take care of me, to adopt me. And that pissed her off. She didn't want to give me up. Didn't plan on giving me up.

"She burst into my room-I remember this like it was yesterday. I was in a room with Tyler, so he's screaming his lungs out-and she snatches me out of bed and she's like, get your ass up, we're leaving. And I'm screaming because I don't want to go, and Heather's screaming because she's scared and Karen is crying and Roy is pacing and my mom... is pissed. So Karen is like at least let me pack him some warm clothes, it's cold out, so she let Karen do that. And I had to march out to the car, in my pajamas and shoes and my little winter coat and my little duffel bag full of clean clothes and underwear. And get in that car and ride away."

He glanced at me, his eyes red, his brow creased. "It broke my heart."

The admission of which broke mine.

It was a few minutes before he spoke again, and when he did, he was a little quieter, his voice a little more shaky. He was holding my hand so tight I thought it might be going numb, but hell if I was going to say something.

"So we came back here, like usual. She's fidgeting and upset and like, ranting about them taking me away from her. And I just... start crying. I remember it being cold, so fucking cold, and I was so out of place in my clean clothes that were just getting filthy and stinky, and my shoes, like.... I had shoes that fit, that had soles, for the first time in forever and I was so pissed that they were getting dirty and destroyed. Some dogs busted into the car and like, tore up my coat, so I had like half a coat for a week. God, that sucked."

Light bulbs were starting to go off, in my head, dinging all over the place. I mean, maybe they didn't explain a whole lot of his neurotic behaviors, but any child who had to live through that was sure to build up an irresistible preference toward certain things, and have an almost OCD-like reaction to the opposite.

None of JC's shoes were dirty. Ever. EVER. He couldn't stand a dirty shoe and washing them did no good. He had several pairs of stark white sneakers. All of his dress shoes gleamed with a spit shine. He might not shave every day, but he was clean, every day. Hated to be dirty. I still couldn't explain the layers and layers of clothing, but I thought, by nature, that he was a shy person and just didn't like anything obvious to be showing. JC preferred to blend, not to stand out.

"Anyway," he was saying, "After a couple of days, I was just quiet. And she kept asking, you know what's wrong with you? And I was like I want to go to school. I want to wear clean clothes. I don't want to live in this car.  And she's like, well this is where we live, so deal with it.  And..."

He paused, and swallowed, and looked up into the sky, squinted into the sunlight. "I think I said... I might have said ...well, I don't want to live with you anymore."

He shrugged, looking guilty. I'd probably feel guilty too. But I agreed that it had to be said.

"Then, she disappeared. For like, an hour. And then she came back, and drove to get gas. And then drove back to Roy and Karen's and dropped me off. I thought my mom-Karen-was gonna have a heart attack, when we showed up. It was freezing, that night, and everything she had packed me in that little duffel bag, I was wearing. She peeled all those clothes off, and gave me a bath. Gave me some food. I ate like, three plates of spaghetti, or something. Hot food was so good to me, back then.

"While I was eating, I heard them talking, and trying to convince her to stay. She said, No, but Josh wants to stay, and I want him to be happy. He needs to be healthy and going to school and eating everyday and not living in a car. So, do what you need to do. I think they gave her some food and some money and she was out. And little by little stuff started happening, like I was enrolled in school, and then one day I went down to the courthouse-everybody went-and we talked to the judge and they signed some papers and they said I was Joshua Chasez. Happiest day of my life."

I knew the feeling. I knew it, so well. No matter how many fights I'd had with my parents, I was never so happy as to come home with the Petition for Name Change, and we filled it out to change my name from Serena Karides to Serena Willis. And, unfortunately in my mind, I thought changing my name meant getting rid of Regina. It was just the beginning.

"So," JC said, heaving a sigh. "Now you know the whole story. The story behind the scrubbed, made-for-TV, PC, socially acceptable story. Not as fairy tale as you imagined it, huh?"

"I never imagined it to be a fairy tale, honey. I know it wasn't. I'm... it sounds lame and empty, but I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

JC shook his head, his eyes earnest, when he looked into mine. "It's not lame or empty. I know you mean it. And I know you think you had it worse off, but... at least you always knew a good home. You always knew warm winters and clean socks and winter coats that weren't two sizes too small and half eaten by wild dogs."

I felt like an ass, for all my complaining, and for being jealous of how his situation had turned out. He had always made it sound so glossed over, such an easy transition. Maybe that was the story he told himself, instead of facing up to the real one. I would have never known the real story either, had he never taken me to that place, that corner of the earth that must have haunted his dreams and supplied a lifetime of nightmares.

I looking around, seeing more than rundown and ramshackle, low income and destitute this time around. I saw a scared little boy-a child-- trapped by circumstance that would one day pretty much rule the world. Or at least one very small, personal world.

"You have questions?"

I nodded. "A couple. If you don't want to answer them-"

"Ask. That's why I brought you here. So you could know and understand where I'm coming from."

"Okay, then. Uhm. So, your mom. I mean, she had other kids and stuff..."

"Yeah. Uh. You remember what made Regina give you up, finally?"

My eyes grew wide as saucers. No. No, no, Roy and Karen did not have to buy this sweet boy, in order to provide a home, for him.

"Not quite money into fist, but they got her into a program where she could go to school and work. It was easier, now that she didn't have a kid to tow around.  She got a place to live, and could move out of the car. She got her GED and then started working at this restaurant. The manager guy took a liking to her. She resisted for awhile, because of her past, but I guess he was just... in love. Or something. I know what that's like."  He smiled, for the first time since coming out there.

"Anyway, they dated, off and on, and then she got pregnant. Oops." He laughed, his eyes bugging out, and then back to normal. "They got married right before I left for MMC. I saw them, quite a bit, actually. All grown up, now and her husband... he's a good guy."

"Where are they, now?"

"They still live in DC. But just..." He looked around, from one corner of the junky area to another.  "Just way, far away from here. I don't think her husband has ever been here, but she's brought the kids out here. To show them what a life wasted looks like. It's definitely a lesson."

"I do have to agree with that."

"This wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be," he said, sort of to himself, but just loud enough for me to hear. "I think having you here helped. I haven't been here in a long time."

"It was my pleasure, to come with you. I'm glad you brought me." I leaned my head against his arm and then pulled back and laughed. "I should have told you what you always tell me."

His head rolled slowly toward, me, half a cocky crooked smile on his lips. "And what's that, honey?"

"That things will turn out how they turn out, whether you worry or not, so quit worrying." I bumped his shoulder and smiled up at him. "And you say I always blow stuff up in my mind and it's never all that bad."

"I say some pretty good things."

"See, I should have never said anything."

"Too late." He elbowed me and I tipped my face up to him. He bent to kiss me, and smiled. A relaxed, relieved, happy smile. "Let's go look at some shit."

"I thought you'd never ask."

The shit didn't turn out to be shit at all, but the home and grave site of Edgar Allen Poe. His house had become a museum full of artifacts and notable objects from Poe's life and, if you were just that morbid, you could take a tour of both his old and new resting place. We took our time on the tour of the house, looking at just about everything there was to see, but given the events of the day, we weren't quite that morbid.

On the way back to the car, JC's phone rang. I could hear Kacy on the other end, rambling away about something, not letting JC really get a word in. JC finally agreed to... something... and slid the phone back into his pocket.

"I hope you brought something nice to wear. Otherwise we're both gonna have to go shopping."

*

"You make being nice to you next to impossible," JC grumbled, all dolled up in his new shirt and tie, dark jacket, and matching slacks. Freshly shaved and head full of waves, he was looking dapper and handsome.

I was smug but comfortable, feeling elegant and worthy of being on his arm in a slinky, clingy black dress. I was pretty sure JC was upset when I walked out of the store, already carrying the dress inside the garment bag, but I ignored him. I was still independent. I could buy my own damn clothes, thank you very much.

I didn't tell him I used his American Express Card that I was still holding. He'd figure it out later. That's what he'd get, for grumbling.

"Let's just go, you grumpy old man." I snapped my new evening bag closed, reached for him and headed for the door.

"You're older than I am...."

"By three months, and you say that every time! Give it up, already!"

We bickered-lovingly-all the way down to the first floor, through the lobby and into the waiting car, where Kacy and Misty were waiting. And already laughing at our stupid argument.

As soon as we crested a hill, and the "The Pier Dinner Club" sign came into view, and under it, I saw ‘An Evening with Michael Buble`, I might have confessed my love to Kacy. It was a little hazy, what with being very excited and kissing JC over and over and thanking Kacy and Misty and then staring out of the window as the car waited in line to pull up to the entrance.

"Looks like there's a little bit of press," JC mumbled, leaning over my shoulder.

"Oh. Is that a problem?"

"Shouldn't be. It's not like LA. Just move fast, as soon as you get out of the car, and smile. When you hit the lobby, wait for me, in case I get caught up, alright?"

I nodded, orders given. The car pulled up to the curb, the driver got out and came around, let Misty and I out first, and then Kacy, and then JC. We filed through the thin crowd and a few cameras, shading our eyes from the TV lights. Behind me, I heard a little commotion and then lots of cameras go off, and bright, bright flashes that reflected into the glass of the front doors of the venue.

"I'm guessing they figured out who Josh is," Misty said quietly, almost laughing, moving to stand next to me in the shadows. A few moments later, JC pushed through the crowd and entered the doors, leaving the pack of cameras and flashes and questions and microphones behind.

He brushed each sleeve of his jacket, straightened his lapel, cinched his tie up a little further, and grinned. "No worse for the wear."

I fell into step next to him, as he offered me an elbow. I slid my arm into the crook of his and let myself be led inside the dimly lit club with tables for two or four set around the room. A piano, a microphone, and a band stand were at the front of the room, ready to be filled with musicians and music.

"I didn't think these places still existed. This so nice."

"To tell you the truth I've never heard of it," JC said, looking around, taking it all in.

"Me either," Kacy said. "Someone offered me these tickets, said the gig was sold out, so I figured it had to be good. This should be nice."

And it was. A nice Italian dinner, a smooth wine, great company, quiet piano music to accompany light conversation. At 9:30 the house lights darkened and a spot light appeared and the stage was graced with the presence of Michael Buble, owner of a voice so silky and smooth, I was always instantly comforted by the sound of it.

I leaned over toward JC, so I could speak directly into his hear. "I love his voice," I said, wrapping an arm around his. "It's so rich. Reminds me of you, a little."

JC rolled his eyes and leaned toward me. "You don't have to suck up to me, honey. You got me."

I tapped his arm, not even taking an eye off of the angel on stage. "Don't do that, JC. Your voice is beautiful. I really, really love it. And I'm not just saying that. Just say thank you. Damn."

"Thank you. Damn."

We laughed together, then and then sat back, arm in arm, to enjoy the show. Every once in awhile I would glance over at JC and he seemed so lost in the performance, in the voice, in the music. And I found that he was right, again-jazz was a soothing, peaceful genre of music. It spoke right to the heart and let it sing.

The beginning strains of Kissing a Fool began to play-strings and then piano, and then a soft, classy voice. JC sighed, next to me, and began bobbing his head to the lilting rhythm, almost directing the orchestra with his hands, under the table. His arm was pulsing, like he wanted to pump them along to the full sound filling the room, especially when the horns swelled and the drum beat and fingers danced along the keys of the piano with passion and fury. When he sucked in his bottom lip and grinned, rocked his head from side to side to the beat, then looked over at me, I knew he was into it, and oddly, I kind of wanted to cry, again. I loved seeing him happy, and being there to witness and, maybe, be a part of it.

He lifted his arm and settled it over the back of my chair, his hand curled around my shoulder, his fingers drawing little curlicues on my bare arm. I closed my eyes, just trying to capture the moment, in case I needed to remember it, for like... forever. JC started to sing the song into my ear as my head bobbed along in time with his.

But remember this
Every other kiss
That you'll ever give
Long as we both live
When you need the hand of another man
One you really can surrender with
I will wait for you
Like I always do
There's something there
That can't compare

Head. Over Heels. Completely in love with him. He sang, seriously, without me having to beg him to do it. It was beautiful music to my ears that traveled to my heart and around and around until I was submerged in it. I would never forget it, as long as I lived.

Another song started to play, the rhythm almost Latin in flavor, a little spice thrown in with the jazzy feel. A few couples got up to twirl around the small dance floor in front of the stage. Kacy and Misty got up and found a corner, arms wrapped around each other, eyes closed and lost in each other. JC stood, to my surprise, and offered a hand.

"I'm not gonna offer again. Take it or leave it mama." His eyes twinkled, and his smile was bright and, of course, I didn't want to miss out on a chance to dance with him. I took it, following him to the dance floor, pulled into his arms like a magnet and then falling into a slow, gentle, hypnotic sway. 

Michael's voice was the soundtrack to something, that night, as we danced together, just staring at each other, smiling like fools and not really caring.

You'll never find, as long as you live
Someone who loves you tender like I do
You'll never find, no matter where you search
Someone who cares about you the way I do
I'm not braggin' on myself, baby
But I'm the one who loves you
And there's no one else... No one else...

"You know why I like jazz?" He turned us, moving smoothly across the floor. "Well music in general, but Jazz?"

I stared up at him, not particularly caring what the answer was, so long as he didn't stop moving, stop smelling so good, stop staring at me like that. But I played along.

"Nope. Why?"

"Because I can say stuff like... I like the way you wear your hat, the way you sip your tea, the way you hold your knife, the way we danced till three...and not sound creepy. Or lame. Music lets me say what I want to say, the way I really want to say it, without like... losing man points."

"Oh."  I nodded, hiding a sarcastic smile. "Because man points are very important."

"They really are. You just don't know."

"I guess I know, now?"

"Yeah, but... I never really had any man points to begin with... so." He shrugged a shoulder, smiling down at me. "I can pretty much just say that I love everything about you. Everyday. All the time. I know that you have faults. I love that you have them and I don't want you to fix them. I love that you're stubborn. I love that you argue with everything I say. I love that you're independent. And I love that you don't take me-and everything I am- for granted. And I apologize if the fact that you don't expect me to give you the world just... makes me want to give it to you."

"Wow." It was all I could do to kee breathing and keep moving and not just stand there and stare at him. No one had ever said that, to me before. I had always felt like I needed to change and be perfect, and once I was perfect, I had to change in another way, to be more perfect. I never felt loved, exactly the way I was.

"Thank you," I finally said, stepping close and saying it in his hear, to make sure he heard it. "You don't have to apologize, sweet man. It's one of the reasons I love you. And don't go changing."

"To try to please you?"

I drew an arm around him, tighter, balanced my chin on his shoulder and smiled, my cheek against his neck. Sometimes, when a conversation was too deep and too much and he needed to back up, he would toss in a joke or something. I picked up the clue-he had shared a lot that day and was pretty much at capacity for openeness.

"I can't remember the words to that song. But yeah. And I won't work on not being so stubborn, if you don't want me to."

"I don't. I want you stubborn as a damn mule."

I laughed, the sound a happy accompaniment to a beautiful song and pleasant company. "You don't want that. I probably shouldn't get any worse. But to reward you, I'll surprise you every once in awhile but just... doing as you ask and not arguing."

"There ya go." He laughed and twirled us around as the song faded into light applause. "Shake it up, a little."

*

The car stopped at the entrance of the hotel, the occupants inside quite sleepy and worn out. And quiet. JC and I piled out of the car and walked through the lobby and up to our room without a word. As soon as the door closed, I caught him by the arm, before he headed to the bedroom and pulled him toward the couch.

"I want to talk to you, for a second, about today."

He stared at me for half a second, and blinked a few times, then said, "Okay."

He sat, loosening his tie, removing his jacket, and then relaxing against the cushion of the couch. His slacks fit snug, in all the right places and I was almost distracted, tracing the lines from his shoulders, down his arms, to his waist, down his thighs, legs, to his sock clad feet in shiny new wing tip shoes.

There was only one lamp on in the room, and in the low light, the shadows playing off of his most prominent features-forehead, cheekbones, nose... lips- worked very well in his favor. He was just so incredibly handsome, right then, right there.

"So, when you met me, you said that Fan Rule Number One was that there's the story, and then there's the story behind the story. And... I wanted to thank you for trusting me enough to let me in, to let me see that."

"You're welcome," he said quietly, slipping off his tie, folding it, and then playing with it.

"And uhm. So, you said something to me that pretty much made it so that I'm whole and I'm happy and I can love you and I can let you love me without feeling like I have to tie you to something, to get you to stay."

"I do give great advice," he said, without looking up.

"Yeah, I'm counting on you feeling that way, because I want you to take your own advice." I paused, waiting for any kind of reaction, but it didn't come. My suspicion was that he was expecting this, what I had to say. The request I was about to make of him.

"See the thing is that... I stood out there today and you bared your soul to me and saw so many years of hurt and pain and maybe some guilt, for what you said, to your mom. And I'm gonna say the same thing you said to me, that there are some things that someone should have helped you through, a long time ago. And I just...I know you probably think it's lame and useless, and you don't have to go forever, but will you just make an appointment, and promise to go? For me?"

I couldn't really see his eyes, because his eyelids were so low. I just saw him blinking. His chest barreled with the deep breath he took. He kept playing with the tie, running it through one hand and then another.

"Do you know-" His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and started again. "I don't mean this in a jerk way, but I didn't have to like... go after you. I wasn't looking to date anyone or anything and I could have left things like they were, put you on the plane to Atlanta and never thought about you again. Do you know why I kept calling?"

My eyes shifted, right to left, in thought. Wasn't this a question I'd been asking myself for over a year, and really had yet to come up with an answer? Wasn't this question the root of every evil in our relationship? I had no idea why he went after me.

"Uhm... I'll take a guess. Because I make a mean pancake?"

"No." His chest jumped with a silent chuckle, but you couldn't see it in his face. "Well, yes. And..."

"And... I was already half way in love with you before I even met you, so it'd be totally easy to get me?"

He glanced up, then, his expression completely serious. Very solemn. "Easy is not a word I would use for you. Being with you is more than you being willing to give yourself to me."

"Okay...so enlighten me, because I don't honestly know."

"Because... I thought you were cute. And... I just wanted to hang out. See what happened, and if you were willing...." He closed his eyes, nodded his head a little. I understood. I was meant to be a one night stand. He opened his eyes again and breathed deeply.

"And then you told me about Regina, all the shit you went through. But you were like... a happy person. Pretty much. I just started thinking that you were a really strong person, like a go-getter. I liked that about you. I wanted to be around someone like that, to love someone like that and have someone like that in my life. No matter how weak you think you are, I've always thought you were strong. And for all my ‘whatever' attitude, I'm kind of weak, especially where all of this... two moms and two families, and adoption shit is concerned. You had some work to do but... I thought maybe if I could help you, by being there for you, then... maybe you could help me."

The tears were streaming, but I didn't dare move, in case he stopped talking. A solitary streak appeared down the left side of his face, and when he lifted his eyes to me, I saw so many years of pain behind them. Pain I had never seen before. Pain he never let me see before.

"No one ever asked me to go, before. To make the appointment. Maybe they thought I thought I didn't need it, and were afraid to ask. My parents would hint around about it and stuff, but never outright asked me to make the appointment. No one has ever dared to maybe piss me off, or hurt my feelings, to help me get better."

"Did I piss you off?"

He shook his head, slowly. "Not at all."

"Did I hurt your feelings?"

He shook his head, again, and let go of the tie and grabbed a hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. "So... we're gonna have a great vacation. And when we get to LA..."  He sucked in a breath, cocked his head back toward the ceiling, and slowly let out his breath. "Uhm...I'm gonna make an appointment. Will you go with me?"

I could have said yes, if I wasn't sobbing so hard, and trying so hard to hold it in, so I just nodded. JC sat up, and pulled me close to him. I threw my arms around his neck and let everything loose, and cried even harder, when I felt his chest convulsing against mine and tears falling onto my shoulder.

When I could control myself, and was only hiccupping and sniffling, I pulled back, finally. JC got up and went into the bathroom and came back with a handful of Kleenex, half of which he used to wipe his own face and nose.

"I hate my crying face."

"You're beautiful. But if you tell anyone I cried... man..."

"No one would believe me anyway," I said, sniffling and laughing.

"Good thinking. Let's keep that between us." He tossed the used Kleenex onto the table and sat forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "Anymore questions, missy?"

I sniffled. "Don't you think that's enough, for one night?"

"Just making sure. I'm pretty tired, and we have to drive, tomorrow. Do you think we could--" He motioned his head toward the bedroom with a wink and a smile.

I shot up from the couch, halfway to the bedroom before I answered.  "Yes, let's." 

By the time we finally rolled over into sleep, we were both exhausted from the day. Mostly the pent up emotion, some the beautiful evening, some the passionate, almost needy moments between us. JC snuggled up closer to me, his arm across my waist, like always. I held his hand, under the sheets, making my regular inspection of his thick fingers and his large palms and the veins that traveled just under the skin. I knew that hand, much better after that day. I understood so much more about him after that day.

But I had yet to really figure him out. I had a feeling that was going to take a while. I also had a feeling that, if I wanted it, I could probably take the rest of my life to do it.