May 2013
North Carolina
“Hey, mom, were you alive in the 90s?”
Harper’s question caught Courtney off-guard; previously, they’d stood silently together at the sink cleaning up after dinner. Harper rinsed and, as Courtney scrubbed, she’d stared at the window – her mind drifting away to JC. She didn’t like to think about him, but it was something that occurred more frequently as of late; especially after the pictures she’d seen at the hospital and the questions from Jake and Harper’s teacher.
“Uh, Harp, the 90’s weren’t so long ago.” She looked down at the little girl and smiled watching her making faces on a plate. “Why, you little cheeseball?”
“We’re having 90s day at school tomorrow and we get to dress up.” Harper answered, continuing to puff up her cheeks, cross her eyes, and stick her tongue out at her reflection.
The little girl reminded Courtney so much of JC, in more than just her resemblance. Harper knew very little about him, mostly because she hadn’t asked very much, but she emulated him in so many ways. It made Courtney happy and heartbreakingly sad at the same time; her daughter represented love given and love that didn’t last.
“Let’s go see what we can scrounge up in my closet.” Courtney was drying her hands on a dish towel when she heard a car door slam shut outside.
Eyebrows arched in confusion, Courtney laid the dish towel on the sink and walked over to the window to catch a glimpse of their unexpected visitor.
“MOM!” Harper had beat her to the window. “IT’S UNCLE LANCE!” She exclaimed loudly before running for the front door.
Courtney peered through the blinds just in time to see Lance’s dirty blonde head pass by the window. Confusion filled her as she followed Harper. It wasn’t unusual for Lance to visit, but he hadn’t mentioned it during their phone call the night before.
Harper was already out the front door by the time her mother walked onto the porch.
“Hey munchkin!” Lance dropped his bags, scooping the little girl up into his arms, spinning her around. “How are ya?”
“You like my new glasses?”
“All orange everything as usual I see.” Lance smiled, observing Harper’s matching t-shirt and eyewear.
“What are you doing here?” Courtney stood on the porch, hands on her hips.
“It’s always lovely to see you too, Courtney.” Lance responded, his sarcasm undisguised as he swept past her into the house, still packing Harper.
Courtney retrieved his bags from the yard and followed them through the front yard. “You know that’s not what I meant, Lance.” She rolled her eyes, playfully, shutting and locking the door behind her.
Lance shot her a wink before putting Harper down and immediately making himself comfortable on the couch. “Well, since you won’t let Harp come spend the summer with me, I figured I’d come to see you guys while I had a few free days.” Lance sighed, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and lacing his fingers behind her head. “Also, you sounded super stressed on the phone last night, so I figured you could use the help.”
Courtney crossed her arms, eyeing him suspiciously. She knew there was an ulterior motive somewhere in his statement. “I’m not going to change my mind, Lance.”
“Well, nobody’s ever accused you of being very flexible, Courtney.” Lance sighed again, staring at the ceiling. “Except JC, maybe.” He teased, raising one eyebrow at her.
Courtney gasped, and her jaw dropped. “Lance!”
“Mom, who’s JC?” Harper piped up from her spot next to Lance on the couch.
Courtney felt the heat rising from her neck to her face, and she knew she was blushing. “Lance, we were just about to explore my closet to find Harper an outfit for 90s day at school tomorrow.” She quickly changed the subject, ignoring Harper’s furrowed brow.
“What are we waiting for?” Lance slapped his thighs with the flats of his hands and grinned. “I can’t wait to see what atrocities are hiding in there.”
Irritation flowed through Courtney’s veins like a tonic as she sat on her knees in the floor of her closet, throwing bags out to Harper and Lance. She couldn’t believe what Lance had said in front of Harper and, inside, she was reeling from hearing JC’s name on Harper’s lips.
On the bedroom floor, Harper and Lance sat digging through mounds of clothes Courtney hadn’t seen in years. “Mom, you really wore this?” Harper held up a pair of acid-washed patchworked overalls, her face twisted in obvious disgust.
“Harp, we all wore questionable outfits in the 90s.” Lance replied.
Harper and Lance continued pawing through the clothes and making fun of all the neon windbreakers, Zubas, and oversized flannel shirts they could find.
Courtney was barely listening, still pulling out bags, when something in the back of the closet caught her eye. Tucked away behind all the bags and pairs of shoes she hadn’t worn in forever was one of Courtney’s old cigar boxes. Her breath hitched at the sight of it; she hadn’t seen or opened the box since the first time she’d moved out of her parents, to attend college in NYC. She thought she’d left it in her old room when she moved away to begin her internship.
With trembling hands, she picked up the worn box and brushed the thin line of dust off it. She opened it carefully as though it would crumble at any moment.
Inside were all the letters JC had written her during their tour of Europe and numerous old polaroid photos. Emotions swelled inside her chest as she picked up a tattered photograph, recalling the distant memory.
She couldn’t remember if the photo was taken before or after her high school graduation ceremony in 1995, but she was seventeen years old – wearing her cap and gown, beaming in her parent’s front yard. Next to her, JC stood holding his arm around her waist, planting a kiss on her cheek.
Her eyes seemed to smile as she looked upon it.
They’d only been dating a few weeks then, but they were no different from most young adults, trying so hard to grow up and not miss a moment.
“Hey, you’re on this shirt, Uncle Lance!” Her reminisce was interrupted by Harper’s voice.
Before Harper or Lance could see, she quickly returned the photo to its place and shoved the box back into the darkness of the closet.
Using her sleeve to wipe the moisture starting to form in her eyes, she turned her attention to Lance and Harper outside the closet.
“Oh, wow.” Lance snatched away the black t-shirt Harper previously held. “You still have this?” He held up what Courtney recognized as the tour shirt from the guy’s “No Strings Attached” tour in 2000.
She didn’t have time to form an answer before Harper asked, “What’s NSYNC?”
“NSYNC is the band I was in, Munchkin.” Lance answered.
“You were in a band?” Harper studied all five of the men on front of the shirt. “Wait!” She snatched it back, eyes wide. “THAT’S JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE! YOU WERE IN A BAND WITH JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE! MOM DO YOU KNOW JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE?” She looked at her mother with eyes opening wide and her lips falling apart.
All Courtney could do was stare, speechless at Harper’s reaction. She wasn’t even aware her daughter knew who Justin was – nevertheless that she was clearly a huge fan.
“Your mom and Justin were great buds back in the day, Harpsy.” Lance nodded, proceeding to dig through more clothes.
“YOU KNOW JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME!” Harper continued, clutching the shirt.
“It was a long time ago, Harper.” Courtney finally found her voice.
“Whoa, JC was looking for this!” Lance blurted out, pulling a red and white basketball jersey out of a bag; the same one JC had worn in one of the group’s older music videos.
“Oh wow.” Courtney was quietly shocked. “That just goes to show how often I clean out my closet.”
“Mom, who is JC?” Harper asked again, pointing to the white embroidered initials on the back of the jersey.
Lance spoke up before Courtney could change the subject. “JC was your mother’s boyfriend until she chose this life of celibacy.” He picked up the old tour shirt Harper had discarded. “This is him.” He pointed JC’s image out to Harper on the shirt.
The little girl silently considered the picture on the shirt with a look of curiosity and finally replied, “Can I wear that one?” Her eyes went to the red jersey in Lance’s lap.
Courtney hesitated. Part of her definitely wanted to say no.
Her eyes danced from Harper to Lance, but he was eyeing her as eagerly as the little girl. “Fine.” She just wanted Harper to be happy, but internally the groaned. “I guess we can tie it up in the back and put a t-shirt under it.”
“Thanks, mom!” Harper took the jersey from Lance and stood up. “Can you show me your band, Uncle Lance? Are you guys on YouTube?”
“Sure, Harper.” He also stood, taking her hand. “Let’s go pull out the ole laptop.”
With that, they left Courtney sitting alone in the middle of clothes and multitudes of confusing thoughts and feelings.
Courtney sat on her bed, trying to focus on studying for her upcoming annual in-service exam, but her ability to do so was crowded by thoughts of him.
For what seemed like the millionth time since she’d retired to her bedroom, her mind went to the cigar box in her closet.
She shoved her pen in her mouth, chewed the end and frowned as she contemplated going through the contents again - now that she was alone.
Was she truly aching to take a stroll down a memory lane that was, for the most part, a very painful walk for her?
She put her notebook and pen to the side before taking a deep breath, letting out a long and resigned sigh. "I’m nothing if not a glutton for punishment." She muttered and got up to retrieve the box from her closet.
Returning to her bed, she crossed her legs and sat the box in her lap. She took one more deep breath and began to sift through the memories.
There were countless photos of her and JC at various points in their relationship and tattered envelopes with stamps originating from too many countries to count, but it was a photo at the very bottom that caught her eye.
She picked up the photo and reveled in it. It was the last photo they’d ever taken together, the sweet memory making its way back from the hidden corners of her mind.
Her 24th birthday dinner at her parents’ house, the two of them sitting at the dining room table with their faces covered in the chocolate birthday cake. JC had shoved her face in it when she went to blow out the candles, she remembered.. Her mother had snapped the photo, capturing the moment right as Courtney retaliated, smearing a handful of the confection on his nose, mouth, and chin in return. Both of their eyes were shining with happiness, wearing wide grins.
They looked so happy, so blissful.
Courtney rubbed the photo gently between her fingers; it felt like a life-time ago.
She wished she could go back to that time - things seemed so much simpler.
“The munchkin is out cold.” Her journey back in time was interrupted by Lance leaning against the doorframe, a glass of wine in each hand. “She finally passed out after we played a lovely game of twenty questions about Justin.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if you noticed, but she’s clearly a big fan.” Courtney greeted him, warmly.
“She also wanted to know all about her mom’s boyfriend.” He winked at her before entering the room and plopping down on the bed next to her, careful not to spill the drinks in his hand.
Courtney frowned, taking the glass he offered. “I wish you wouldn’t bring him up, especially around Harp.” She took a gulp, washing down the emotions she refused to acknowledge.
Lance’s eyes were on the photo in her hand. “Do you still love him?”
She quietly pondered the question, swirling her wine gently in her glass. Was it possible to still love someone after so much time? In all honesty, she wasn't sure how she felt about him, herself, anything.
Courtney took another sip of wine, as if she could swallow the bitterness rising in her throat. “What would it matter?”
