10. Chapter Nine #2
“Because your Dad is in Oklahoma,” he said. “Mine’s in an urn in the living room.”
Joe started to say something, stopped, and closed his eyes. “That’s not…” he stopped, opened his eyes, and tried again. “I’m not sure you should lead with that.”
Fair enough. Quentin wouldn’t trust himself with a pre-teen's tender emotions either.
“Let me try,” Quentin said. “You’ll be right here if I strike out.”
Joe looked unsure. “What about the plane?” he asked. “You’re in the middle of something.”
“The oil’s running slow,” Quentin said as he handed Joe the filter. “It’ll be fifteen minutes, at least. Go keep Benjy company, and I’ll be back before he has to do anything.”
Joe looked conflicted, but caved with a sigh. “OK. OK,” he said. “But tell her that I wanted to talk to her, that I will. I just…I don’t know.”
He took a long, still uncertain look toward the darkened bay that Jessie had disappeared into and then collected the babies before he went outside.
****
“My Dad died,” Quentin said as he slid down the hangar wall to sit on the ground next to Jessie. “That’s why I thought maybe you’d want to talk to me.”
Jessie hugged her knees and sniffed. “You were wrong.”
Quentin stretched his legs out in front of him. The knees of his work trousers were scuffed and stained, bits of hot tar glued to them. He picked them off idly.
“You want your Dad?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jessie said, the words muffled by her knees. “But he’s dead, so–”
Quentin winced. He pulled his legs up under him so he could rest his elbows on his knees. “I meant Joe,” he said. “Who might have had a point that I’m not the person to deal with this.”
Jessie picked at the pink nail polish on her thumb, chipping it off in chunks, and glanced sidelong at Quentin.
“You haven’t tried,” she pointed out.
“I did,” Quentin disagreed. “That was me. Trying.”
Jessie straightened up. She sniffed and wiped her face with her hand before leveling an aggrieved look at him. “That was it?”
“It was…the start,” Quentin said. “I thought the rest would come to me.”
“Did it.”
Quentin leaned back against the side of the building and squinted into the sun as he watched…probably Duffy…wheel his ultralight trike out onto the runway. Oversized shorts flapped around bony legs.
“No,” he admitted.
Jessie heaved an exasperated sigh. She pushed her curls behind her ears and started to count on her fingers. That was never good.
“You start by telling me that I get to feel whatever I want,” she said.
“I assumed you knew that,” Quentin said. “How would I stop you?”
“I’m ten,” Jessie said as she pointed a finger at her chest. “That’s the sort of stuff you have to tell me.”
“OK,” Quentin said. “Now?”
“No,” Jessie said. She moved on to finger two. “Then you tell me that you and Joe are just friends, even if it’s not true.”
This time she hesitated and looked at him expectantly.
“We are,” Quentin said. “I’d like to be more, but I’m not sure that Joe sees me like that.”
She looked at him and then sighed. His mom didn’t sigh at him with that level of built-up exasperation. It seemed over the top, to be honest. Quentin let it go.
“And then you say that even if you and Joe did…whatever, like kiss,” Jessie said as she reached her third finger. The thought made her grimace and stick her tongue out.
Quentin nudged her.
“Enough of that,” he said. “One day you might want to kiss someone.”
She stuck her nose in the air. “Only cats,” she said firmly. “And anyhow, even if you did kiss, I’d still be important even if I had to go and live with my grandparents or in an orphanage or something.”
That statement was accompanied by a brave little nod. Quentin looked at her.
“An orphanage?”
“That’s where orphans go,” Jessie pointed out. “My mom’s dead, my dad’s dead, and my grandparents…they’re alive, but I don’t think they want me. But it’s only going to be for eight years. Then I’ll be on my own.”
“And what happened to Joe?” Quentin asked.
Jessie shrugged and looked away from him. She stared at the Featherlite like it was the most interesting thing in the world as she shrugged.
“He’s not my Dad,” she said. “He’s not even my uncle. He’s just stuck with me because he was married to my Dad, but once he gets married to you…”
Her voice cracked.
Oh. Quentin cringed internally. He’d not realized the little bit of melodrama was just a Band-Aid. He started to reach out to pull her into a hug, hesitated, and turned it into an awkward pat on the shoulder instead.
Being in love-ish might have let him tap unexpected reserves of patience, but he hadn’t made his social skills any smoother.
“Come on,” he said. “You know Joe wouldn’t do that. He loves you.”
Jessie’s jaw trembled. “I’m mean to him,” she said and shot a quick, sidelong look at Quentin. “Like all the time and…and…what if…”
Quentin put his hand on top of her head and gave her a gentle shake. She was jolted into an unexpected laugh as she reached up to push his hand away.
“What if he stops loving me when he stops loving my dad?” she asked.
“He won’t,” Quentin said.
Jessie scrubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes. “You want him to,” she said. It wasn’t quite angry, more a mix of sullen and dispirited. “You want him to love you.”
That was…
It was stupid. Quentin was well aware of how much he liked Joe. Everyone was aware of how much he liked Joe. For some reason, Jessie’s blunt accusation still made him want to splutter denials.
…I mean, maybe one day but not yet…
…we’ve not even been out on a date…
…that’s a bit previous, but…
He rubbed the back of his neck and took a second to let all that settle like sediment.
“I’d like that,” he admitted. Years of pragmatic, cool-tempered Quentin made him add, “One day, I’d like that. But that doesn’t mean he has to stop loving someone else.”
“My friend Frankie’s parents got divorced, and now they have to swap him in McDonald's,” she said.
“Divorce is different,” Quentin said.
“Why?”
God.
“OK,” Quentin said. “I have not prepped for this, but…they didn’t stop loving each other because they got divorced. They got divorced because they stopped loving each other.”
It sounded good to him, but he wasn’t sure it was at a ten-year-old’s comprehension level. Jessie didn’t look confused, but she didn’t look convinced either.
“Does your mom still love your dad?” she asked.
“...I don’t know,” Quentin said. “I’ve not asked in a while. Want me to?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry I said your plane was stupid,” she said. “It’s not.”
That seemed like a big concession from a ten-year-old. Quentin was going to take it as a win and wrap this up. He braced his feet against the ground and pushed himself up the wall of the hangar, brushing the seat of his trousers off once he was on his feet.
“Want to go and see if Joe and Benjy spilled any oil?” he asked as he offered her his dusty hand.
She looked at it for a moment, then sighed and grabbed it so he could pull her up.
“You make Joe happy,” she said, without looking at him, as they headed back into the hangar. “He’s always smiling when you’re there. So…you know.”
Quentin would definitely take that.
****
The oil had come out quicker than Quentin had thought, but the transfer of the hose from one jug to the other had gone almost without incident.
“Dean said I did a good job!” Benjy said smugly as Quentin’s stepdad coughed and pretended to be occupied with fitting the filter, hands wrapped in plastic as he worked on detaching the old one. Like he was only there for a mechanical assist and not to pry.
“Then you did,” Quentin said. “Dean’s forgotten more about planes than I ever knew.”
Benjy beamed and scrambled up the side of the plane to watch what Dean was doing.
Joe wiped oil off his face on a rag and gave Quentin a wry smile.
“Apparently, everyone gets dirty the first time,” he said. His expression faded from amused to worried as he glanced at Jessie. “Is everything OK?”
Jessie bolted forward and hugged him, quick and fierce. Then she sidled over to the plane to see what was going on.
Quentin watched her for a second and then looked at Joe. He took a deep breath.
“I’ll tell you over dinner,” he said.
There was a crunch and a strangled yelp from Dean as he banged his elbow on the side of the plane. Quentin ignored him.
Joe hesitated as he glanced at Jessie.
“I don’t…I don’t know if this is the right time?” he said. “The kids need…Jessie’s obviously…I can’t just make plans without getting a babysitter.”
There was a joint groan of protest from Jessie and Benjy.
“We don’t need babysitters!” blended with, “I’m ten! I could stay home alone!”
“Dean,” Quentin said. “Can you and Mom babysit tonight?”
There was a pause as Dean pulled his head out of the engine. He pretended to think about it before he shrugged and nodded.
“It shouldn’t be a problem,” he said. “Kathryn doesn’t have to leave for the conference until Tuesday.”
Quentin looked back at Joe and raised an eyebrow.
“If you want to say ‘no’,” he said. “Say it now, because otherwise I will make it happen.”