Tommy, Jack & Kathryn - 2 - "Impossible Words"
Chapter 3/7
Previous Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
As it gets closer to showtime, Kathryn and Jack help Tommy get ready.
Content: Extreme cold misery, with some mess.
It was clear how much Tommy’s cold was bothering him, but between Kathryn’s soft playing and Jack’s gentle attentions, they managed to get him to nod off. Even though it was a shallow sleep that didn’t look very restful, punctuated by sniffles and hard coughs, Kathryn thought it had to be better than nothing.
When Walter’s loud knock came and the tour manager shouted through the door that it was an hour ‘til showtime, Kathryn called back, “All right, we’ve got it!”
Walter rattled at the door handle, which they’d locked. “The doctor needs to look him over,” he pointed out.
“There’ll be time for all that,” Kathryn replied. She reached back to squeeze Jack’s hand, knowing he had to feel anxious about the tender little tableau they’d made—Tommy dozing with his head in Jack’s lap and Kathryn on the floor beside them. None of them wanted Walter or anyone else seeing that.
Tugging at the door handle again, Walter insisted, “Kathryn, I mean it!”
The noise was beginning to rouse Tommy, who groaned and rubbed his face. “Shhh,” Jack murmured, running his fingers softly through Tommy’s hair. “It’s okay.”
Setting the guitar on the floor, Kathryn stood up. “Don’t worry, Walter,” she replied. “He’s been laying down. We’re just getting him up now—give him a little time to wake up properly, and then you can send in whoever you’d like.”
“HAHHHHHHHH-uhhhhhhhh-shiuhhhhhhhh!” Tommy sneezed into his hands. “Who’s that, Walter?” he mumbled in a low, hazy-sounding voice.
“Yes,” Kathryn told him. She kept her voice raised so Walter would be able to hear. “It’s all right, Tommy, Walter’s gonna give you a chance to wake yourself up before anybody starts poking and prodding at you. Why don’t you sit up?”
Tommy looked a bit shaky as he pushed himself up on the couch—Jack gave him a hand.
Outside the door, Walter warned, “20 minutes. Then we’re coming in, even if I have to break the damn door down.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Kathryn said in the sweetest voice she could muster. “20 minutes ought to be enough.” She glanced down at her watch. “We’ll see you at 6:50, Walter.”
There was some grumbling on the other side of the door, then the sound of Walter’s footsteps stalking away. Turning around, Kathryn found Tommy leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The sight of him could’ve cracked her heart wide open.
But Jack placed his hands gently on Tommy’s shoulders. “What do you need?” he prompted. “How can we help?”
Tommy sneezed a loud “ehhhhhhh…hihhhhhhhh-CHIUHHHHHHH!” down toward the floor, then wiped his nose on the back of his hand, sniffling as he gave a long sigh. “Water,” he croaked.
Jack reached down to stroke Tommy’s cheek. “Good start,” he replied reassuringly. “That’s an easy one.” He grabbed the pitcher and refilled Tommy’s glass.
Why did seeing Jack’s sweet affection for Tommy just make Kathryn love him more? She didn’t understand how it worked, but she couldn’t deny that it was true.
Tommy took his first few swallows, wincing in obvious pain. He looked at Kathryn, his gaze a bit muddled. “Not just to drink, though,” he explained. Waving a hand vaguely toward a large bowl on the vanity table, he said, “I need that filled up, hot a--” he coughed, grimacing, “--as you can make it. Bathroom’s down the hall.”
“Got it,” Kathryn told him. She walked to the vanity and picked up the bowl, finding a second smaller one inside it. “This one too?” she asked, holding up the small bowl.
Shaking his head, Tommy said, “Not yet. That one’ll be as cold as you can make it. But I’ve gotta do the hot one f-- fir-iiirst…” He fumbled for his hankie. “huhhhhhhhh-CHIOOOOOOO!”
Kathryn winced—those sneezes had to be taking just about everything out of him. “Coming right up,” she promised. “Back in a minute.”
Leaving the small bowl for now, Kathryn left the dressing room and walked down to the bathroom with the other. Most girls, she reasoned, would feel jealous or upset to see their boyfriend looking at someone else the way Jack looked at Tommy. And if it was at another man? Kathryn wasn’t sure if that’d make it better or worse in their eyes, but she couldn’t imagine they’d like it much.
So why was it just the opposite for her? Why did Jack look so beautiful when he smiled at Tommy, when he kissed Tommy, when Tommy held him in bed? And when Tommy’s poor sick misery threatened to break her heart, why did Jack’s soft care for him glue it back together?
In the bathroom, Kathryn let the water run until it was good and hot, then filled the large bowl with it. Maybe it had something to do with seeing Jack’s affections from the outside. Kathryn knew how he felt about her, but it looked different when she was getting his love face-to-face. It got all tangled up in her own feelings—her love for him, her insecurities, her everything—and sometimes it was like she was seeing it through a filter. But with Jack and Tommy, she could see Jack’s love as it really was, none of her perceptions getting in the way.
Maybe it was that seeing Jack open himself to Tommy was like seeing a whole different side of her boyfriend, a side that she and Jack were both learning about in real time. After the second night they’d shared together with Tommy, Kathryn had sat out on the fire escape with Jack the next day, listening to him talk about how he’d had “those sorts of feelings” since he was about 14, and how he’d never understood them because he liked girls too. How he’d filed them away in the back of his mind and taken a look, don’t touch approach to them. How being with Tommy felt like reaching out to a part of himself that he’d thought he couldn’t fully be. Kathryn remembered how he had his handkerchief out—he’d cried a little—and he kept folding and unfolding it while he talked.
And maybe it was that Kathryn knew how she felt about Tommy, and it was only natural that Jack felt the same way. How could he not?
Returning to the dressing room, Kathryn knocked at the door with her foot. “It’s me,” she called, and she waited for Jack to let her in.
When she came inside, Tommy rose from the couch, standing steady but looking dead tired. “Thanks, Kathryn,” he said, sniffling hard. “You can just set it down there.”
Carefully, Kathryn set the bowl of hot water back on the vanity. Tommy plunked himself down in the chair, and even though he’d only been on his feet for a minute, he looked relieved to be sitting again. Grabbing a towel off the vanity table, he lowered his face over the bowl and draped the towel over his head like a tent.
Steam. Effective for clearing up congestion or soothing your throat, but pretty unpleasant to get it that way. Tommy was already feverish—he had to be roasting.
“Huhhhhhhhhh-SHOOOOOOOO-ehhhhhhhhh!” he sneezed, a wet, messy sound from under the towel. He let out a few congested coughs and sneezed again, a “hihhhhhhhh-CHIUHHHHHHHHHH! Unnnhhhhhh…”
Kathryn rubbed Tommy’s back. “I know, it’s awful,” she murmured. “Just get as much of it out as you can.”
“Uh huh,” came Tommy’s muffled voice from under the towel, sounding thick and stuffed up. More coughing. “C--” he sniffled, “could you get the cold water now?”
As Kathryn started to reach for the small bowl, Jack touched her arm. “I can go this time,” he offered.
“Thanks,” Kathryn replied. She handed Jack the bowl, then walked with him to the door to point out where the bathroom was.
Shutting the door behind Jack, Kathryn turned back to Tommy as he let out another miserable-sounding “haaaahhhhhhhhh-CHIOOOOOOOO!” He coughed, clearing his throat, and it sounded like he spat into the bowl. “I’m sorry…” he moaned.
“Hey,” Kathryn said gently. She squeezed his shoulder. “What did we say about apologizing for being sick?”
“I-it’s just—it’s real ugly,” Tommy explained. Sputtering with a few more coughs, he raised his hands to rub his temples through the towel.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Kathryn told him, slipping her hands underneath his. “I’ve got it. Right here?”
Tommy nodded. “Y-- yeah-hehhhhhh…ihhhhhhh-huhhhhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHHHHHH!”
A couple of weeks Tommy had been sick, that’s what he said. Had it been this bad the whole time, or had he just been getting worse and worse?
“You’re staying with us tonight, after the gig,” Kathryn informed him as he rubbed his temples. “What’s your favorite kind of soup? The deli near our apartment is open late—we’ll bring some home for you to eat before you go to sleep.”
“I’m not picky,” Tommy replied.
“Nope,” Kathryn retorted. “I’m not allowing that. You’ve obviously been having a horrible time, Tommy. You need to have your favorites.”
“It doesn’t even matter!” Tommy protested. “I’m too stuffed up to taste anythi--huhhhhhhhh-ehhhhhhhh-SHIOOOOOOO! HEHHHHHHHHH-chiuhhhhhhhh! uhhhhhhhhhh-CHOOOOOOO-ehhhhhhh!” The sneezes burst out of him like a storm. He gave a wet sniffle, but his breath was still hitching. “aaahhhhhhh-hehhhhhhh…ihhhhhhhhh…HAHHHHHHHH-shiuhhhhhhhhh!” With an exhausted groan, he folded his arms on the table and sank down even closer to the bowl.
Kathryn winced. “Bless you, honey,” she crooned, stooping to kiss the top of his head through the towel. “See, that’s exactly why you need it. It’s no fun to eat when you’re feeling awful—you need your favorites to get through it.”
Tommy coughed, then let out a shaky sigh. “...Chicken noodle,” he admitted. “I know that sounds like I’m just making it up to get you off my back, but it’s really true.” He cleared his throat. “Always hits the spot when I’m feeling lousy.”
“That’s good,” Kathryn replied. “We can easily get that. If you’d said something special that you can only get in North Carolina…well, that’d have been trickier.”
A slight chuckle from Tommy brought on a bout of hard coughing, and Kathryn rubbed his back. “You still woulda thought of something,” he observed.
Kathryn smiled. “You know me so well.”
The door opened, and Jack came back in. “I’ve got the cold water,” he said.
“Mmm, you’re a lifesaver, Jacky,” Tommy told him. “Th-the-ere…hehhhhhhhh-CHIOOOOOOO! Unnhhhh—there’s, uh, a washcloth, somewhere on the table here.”
Kathryn spotted it. “Here,” she said, reaching past Tommy to grab the cloth.
“Th-- thanks,” Tommy replied, sputtering with a cough. “If you could just--” he sniffled, “--get it wet and then put it on--” another cough, “--on my neck.”
Jack did just that. He dipped the washcloth in the cold water, wrung it out, and draped it across the back of Tommy’s neck. “Is the steam helping?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Tommy said, sniffling again. “Just feel like I’m cooking under here.”
Leaning against the vanity table, Jack took Tommy’s hand and squeezed it. “Extra crispy?”
Tommy laughed, then coughed hard. He stifled a groan. “Naw,” he replied. “Well done, though.”
“Why don’t you come out from under there?” Kathryn suggested. “I know you need to see to your throat, but your temperature isn’t doing you any favors either.”
“In a few mihh-- min-uhhhtes…” Tommy told her, trailing off into a strong “HAAAAHHHHHH-ihhhhhhh-chiuhhhhhhh!” He sniffled and cleared his throat. “Steam doesn’t last much longer than that anyway.”
When Tommy finally emerged from under the towel, his face was flushed and sweaty. “Babe, bring him some more water to drink,” Kathryn said to Jack. She took the washcloth off Tommy’s neck, rewetting it before she gently took his chin in her hand and wiped his face with it. Pushing his damp hair away from his brow, she planted a small kiss on his temple.
Jack came over with Tommy’s glass. Sidling up behind Tommy, Jack gave him the water and then wrapped him in a hug.
After going to Nashville for Christmas, they’d both agreed that it felt like something had shifted. It wasn’t the two of them, and Tommy. It was all of them, it was Kathryn and Jack and Tommy together. He didn’t live with them, and neither of them were ever photographed on his arm or holding his hand, but he was just as much a part of their relationship as either of them were.
“Hey, c’mon now,” Tommy told them, and Kathryn caught the hint of a tired smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. “Y’all start fussing over me like that, a fella could get used to it.”
Jack looked up at Kathryn with a smile that practically melted her, then leaned in to kiss Tommy’s cheek. “That’s the idea,” he said.
