Robby is three weeks in his sabbatical when he receives the weirdest call from Jack.
"If that's a trick to get me come back, it's a jerk move."
"You really think so low of me?"
"I think you'd bullshit your way to get what you want, yes, even if it would mean hurting me."
Jack falls silent. And Robby thinks maybe this time he went too far. After all, he's just trying to not lose him too. The one making a jerk move is Robby.
But then his phone buzzes with the notification of a message. It's a photo from Jack.
Still on call with him, Robby opens it. And he's hit by the most horrific uncanney valley feeling.
That's him.
Same eyes, same nose, same shape of the lips half hidden under a thick beard. He has more hair, though, and none grey. Little to none wrinkles.
Probably 15 or 20 years his junior.
"Do you believe me now?" Jack says.
"What did you say his name was?" Robby asks, not being able to stop scanning that face.
"John Carter. From Chicago."
"And he just showed up at PTMC asking about me."
"Pretty much."
From Jack's voice Robby can say he already did his researches and verifyied that this man is saying the truth.
"Where he's staying?"
"Well..."
"I don't like that 'well'."
"I'd have offered to stay at mine, but Andrew came to town."
"Andrew is there?"
Robby can't hide his surprise about the news. Jack's cousin is a recurring issue that the man won't give up. He guesses it's part of his peculiar brand of self sacrifice, this stubborness towards lost causes.
"I'm taking he's not leaving soon."
"That's what I hope."
"So, where is this..."
"John Carter. From Chicago."
"...John Carter form Chicago staying?"
"Well-"
"Do not 'well' at me again!"
"Whitaker took him home."
"You mean my home?"
"Well-"
"I swear to God-"
"He's Huckleberry, what did you expect?!"
"For you to stop him from taking home a stranger with my face?!"
"To be fair, he told Whitaker it wasn't a good idea."
"He?"
"John Carter from-"
"I get it!"
"But Whitaker insisted, so..."
"So there's a stranger with my face in my house."
"I don't think he's a stranger, brother."
"No shit..."
"You coming back?"
"What do you think?"
"Good. See you in three weeks."
"Make it two."
There's a snort from Jack.
"Afraid your younger version could replace you in the boy's heart?"
"Oh fuck you, Jack."
Another chuckle, then: "Travel safe, brother." and the call ends.
Robby pack his things, checks out at the motel he was staying, and hops on his bike.
As the road runs, the conversation replays in his mind over and over.
John Carter. From Chicago.
The name doesn't say anything to him. The city, though...
It rings not a bell, but a whole orchestra.
Because Chicago was listed among the sparse informations about his mother whereabouts.
her putting her hands on your waist and pressing herself into you as well
her humming into the kiss big yes
i think cassie is very touchy with the right person. people she's comfortable with or she considers friends.
when you start dating, she couldn't keep her hands off of you. it's her hand on your lower back, on your waist, on your arm, on your shoulder, or just simply holding your hand. also she's very fond of getting your attention by tilting your chin up with her index and middle fingers because it makes you blush.
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