The Long Goodbye
by Karen and LB
© 2002
"I can't believe that it's really happening. Today." JC folds another shirt and hands it to Lance to add to his half-packed suitcase. "I knew it was coming, but it happened so fast."
"And I'll be back before you know it. July. That's not so far away." Lance pats down the shirt to make room for more.
"I know. We'll both keep so busy we'll hardly even notice we're apart. Right?"
"Right. I expect you to have the album half-written by the time I get back."
"And a symphony."
"And you can rearrange the sock drawer while you're at it," Lance adds, throwing some of the socks in question into his suitcase.
JC smiles. "That's one thing I won't miss. Socks on the floor."
"I'll leave some just for you. And Jackson."
"Gee, thanks." JC picks up another shirt and folds it, slowly. As if by slowing down this task of packing he can keep Lance with him a little longer.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Cry. I can tell you're about to cry, and if you cry I'll cry and we'll never get this done."
"I am NOT crying."
"You were going to. Your eyes are all, like, watery."
"Allergies."
"Liar."
JC blinks rapidly, then looks up at Lance, his eyes dry. "See? I'm fine."
"Okay, if you say so." He smiles, knowing how hard this is for JC and loving him even more for showing such restraint with his emotions. "I think that's it."
JC glances around the room. "I guess it is." He has no opportunity to say anything more because Lance's mother knocks on the door and asks if they're almost ready.
"We'll be down in a minute." Lance zips the bag and moves closer to JC. "I am really going to miss you."
"You better. Or I WILL Cry."
Lance takes JC in his arms. "I'll miss you every day. I promise." So it had come to this. No more parties, no more fanfare. Just this quiet, final moment.
JC squeezes Lance as tightly as he can, memorizing the way he feels in his arms, his scent. He makes sure his eyes are tearless before he pulls back to look into Lance's eyes.
"Lance, honey, we have to leave now," his mother calls from the hallway.
"We gotta go," Lance says quietly.
JC says, "I know." But he doesn't let go.
Lance gives one more squeeze before gently pushing away. "We REALLY have to go."
JC reaches over for Lance's bag with one hand, and takes Lance's hand with the other. "C'mon."
There's quiet chitchat in the car, and much bustling about at the airport. JC is allowed to go out to the tarmac through special clearance, and now they stand before the private jet, engines humming loudly. "Don't forget to feed Jackson."
"I won't And I'll play with him a lot. He's going to miss you, you know."
"I'm going to miss him so much. Listen, I left a copy of my schedule on the computer, and Beth has it too. I'll call you the minute I know my new number. Joey's expecting you for dinner tonight, so you better go or I'll know about it."
"I'll go." JC pauses. "Lance?"
"What?"
"Just . . . be really careful, okay? And take care of yourself? Because if you aren't back here in July I'm coming to get you."
"I may just have to hold you to that."
"Lance, it's time." Jim's voice breaks in, and he stands at the bottom of the stairs, beckoning.
"I'm coming back, JC. I love you."
"I love you, too." JC squeezes Lance's hand, then releases it.
Lance backs toward the plane, grateful for the breeze blowing his tears away. He smiles as he gazes at JC, longing for one last kiss, one last touch, but when his foot touches the bottom step he knows he can't draw this out any longer. With one last wave he climbs the stairs and disappears inside the plane, then hurries to the first window he sees and holds a hand up to the glass.
JC raises his hand, and it's as if he can still feel Lance's hand held in it. He doesn't move as the plane's doors are shut and it starts preparing for takeoff.
Lance watches the ground, watches JC disappear as the plane ascends, and then he closes his eyes as the tears start to fall.
JC doesn't move, doesn't even lower his hand until he can't see the plane anymore and he can blame the dampness in his eyes on squinting into the sun.
*****
"Dude, you wanna see a movie?" Chris's voice asks over the phone.
"Lance really DOES have you guys on a schedule, doesn't he?"
"Lance who?"
"Funny. What do you wanna see?"
"Funny you should say something funny. How about something funny? The New Guy just opened."
"Dude, that has the potential to be the worst movie ever made."
"I know--it'll be great!"
JC laughs. "Fine. I'll be over in a few. We can get lunch first or something."
*****
"So you saw him off?" Chris asks, picking at his fries.
"Yeah, helped him pack and went with him to the airport and everything."
"That had to be rough."
"Yeah, but it had to be that way, too. You know, like, what memories did I want him taking with him?"
"What memories DID he take?"
"Us, working together. Me, not making it harder on him. At least, I hope so."
"So you didn't cry?"
"No. I'm okay. I really am."
"We'll all miss him."
"I know. And he WILL be here in July."
"And if he plays that country music of his, maybe sooner. The Russians'll send him packing."
"He did bring lots of CDs."
As predicted, the movie is silly and provides the distraction both boys need. Chris convinces JC to hit the arcade, and then mooches an invite to Joey's for dinner.
Between Joey and Chris, JC doesn't have a moment to think, or feel sad. Lots of food, lots of laughter, a few beers.
"Hey, let's go to the Roxy. I hear Tobey Maguire's in town throwing a party."
JC smiles and shakes his head. Apparently the plan is "Don't allow JC one moment to himself where he might actually be sad." But he agrees. They party well into the night. There's much drinking and dancing and revelry.
"You want to crash at my place?" asks Joey in the parking lot.
"Thanks, dude. But I have to get back to the puppy. I shouldn't have left him alone this long."
"You sure? You can bring the dog."
"That's okay. I'm just gonna crash when I get there."
"Okay." As he turns to leave, Joey pauses. "The offer stands. You know, as long as he's away."
"Thanks, Joey. But I've gotta, you know, get used to this."
"You will. He'll be home soon."
"I know. Thanks, dude." JC climbs into his car and drives back to Lance's house. He'd thought this would be hard, but it isn't. He lets himself in, using the security code that's his own birthday, without a pang.
Jackson runs up to greet him, his entire body wagging in greeting. The puppy pauses for a moment, confused to see just JC standing in his foyer, but then succumbs again to the excitement of having someone home.
JC brings Jackson outside and lets him play for a few minutes after doing his puppy thing, then lets them both back into the house, carrying Jackson to the kitchen and filling his food bowl.
JC moves slowly through the house, trying not to imagine Lance everywhere. Staying strong. He's fine, really. He'll just keep busy for a couple of months, that's all. Do a lot of writing, and producing. He's got a life, after all.
JC walks up the stairs, thinking about what today must be like for Lance. Embarking on his big adventure. His dream of a lifetime. JC hopes that Lance knows how truly proud of him he is.
Finally, he reaches their bedroom. It feels as if it couldn't have been just this morning that they were here, waking up together, dressing, packing. But the indentation of that final suitcase is still there, marring the neatly made bed. JC sits down and runs his fingers over the marks in the comforter.
Jackson comes into the room and whimpers a little, wanting to be petted, to be held. JC picks him up, then lies down on the bed with him. "I know," he croons. "I miss him, too. But Daddy's doing what he really wants to do. And he's gonna be so happy when we see him again, 'cause he's living his dream." The boy and the puppy both drift off for a while.
JC wakes up about twenty minutes later, wanting to brush his teeth and get out of his clothes. He walks around the bed toward the bathroom, and his foot touches something. Socks. Lance's socks. Lance's stupid socks. The one thing they fight about, as far as house stuff goes. Lance's stupid habit of leaving his stupid socks wherever he peels them off. And it's that one, stupid, familiar thing that breaks JC. He sits down on the floor, next to the socks, leaning on the bed, and lets his tears fall.