#jaybirdsinging

[motherofstone]

jaybirdsinging

[ If her memory serves, Joshua should be done with classes by this time on a Monday afternoon, and if habit serves, he ought to be headed out for a run on his own within the next half hour.

But he never bounds down the steps toward the back door, and even as the sun sinks lower in the sky, he never comes into view outside, either.

But Joyce does, and when Ana sees her she spares little time. ]

Joyce, mi nuera, have you seen Joshua today?

[phenocrysticskin]

DAD! Dad, Grandpa won't get up!

[ Frank’s been at the mansion for a couple years now, at the insistence of the three Joyce and Josh as well as Josephine and he’s become an even bigger, more important part of Josh’s life in the process.

Age has been catching up the him both a little and a lot at a time, and it’s nice to have him nearby to keep an eye on him, to keep him from being too reckless whenever he can and to make sure he doesn’t neglect himself. And having him around for Frankie to grow up around is just great; the little boy loves him so, so much. ]

• • •

[ When dinner is about ready that particular night, Josh calls his son over to him from where he’s been drawing—pictures of Joyce with her wings spread wide, proud; Josh holding the boy up with one arm; Frank with his hands on his hips and a green cape blowing out behind him—and steers him by the shoulders toward the hallway. ]

Frankie, go get your abuelo. Tell him it’s time to eat, okay?

[ As the boy runs off toward Mr. Johnson’s room on his mission, Josh returns to help set the table, gently bumping his hand to Joyce’s when they both try to set the same place at the same time, barking out a word of caution as a bot of pasta starts to boil over in the kitchen, and laughing at a joke or two passed around by the others.

     They’re a family, this big, unruly group living under the same roof.

     They’re a family, not by blood but by common goals and loving hearts.

     They’re a family, human and mutant alike, and it’s a sign of hope for those old enough to see it; hope that this sort of thing could be global.

Everything good hangs in the air and comes crashing down when the boy runs back into the room, brown eyes blown wild and scared; when he exclaims that ‘Grandpa won’t get up,’ ‘Dad, he’s not moving!’ the entire room goes still, silent.

It’s Joyce that runs first, light and quick and terrified, dropping a handful of silverware that sounds like a detonation, waking everyone else from their stupor. It’s Joyce that slides out of the room and down the hall, with Josh just behind her.

It’s like running in a funhouse tunnel, trying to get down the hall to Frank’s room; he can’t get his footing and he feels he’s not moving fast enough for how fast his mind is working to tell him the worst. He’s not moving fast enough, and Joyce has disappeared into the man’s room well before he gets there.

By the time he gets, there, Joyce is alternating between taking his pulse at his wrist, his neck to cupping her daddy’s face in her hands, and she’s weeping openly, and desperately, angrily trying to bargain with the finality of death. He’s halfway across the room to his wife when their son catches up with them, too young to understand why his mommy is crying so hard and why Josh looks like the earth’s been pulled out from under his feet.

‘Daddy? Daddy?' the little boy's voice cries out, cracking from the emotion he doesn't understand that's filling the room, suffocating everyone inside.

Josh pulls him to his side, and pulls them both along to Joyce as he hikes the boy up onto his hip and kisses the top of his head. ]

Mommy’s gonna need us both right now.

[ He can’t say his little boy’s name; not right now. ‘Frankie’ just hurts too much. ]

We’re all gonna need each other.

[ They’re a family. ]

[phenocrysticskin]

the only way you can know (is give it all you have) || Joyce & Josh

[ Josh finds a rough chunk of granite while he's out for a walk one morning.

(He walks now, doesn't run as much anymore. Can't really bring himself to even try some day, though he misses it fiercely when he doesn't mange it.)

He finds that rock, picks it up, and weighs it in his hands, comparing it to himself and finding it so similar to the color and texture of the rockiness of his skin that he couldn't help but slip it into his pocket to keep for later.

The stone sits in a drawer by his bed for about a week, and occasionally he pulls it out to reexamine it when he can't sleep, when he has nothing better to do, or when he can't seem to gather the gumption to swing his heavy legs out of bed in the morning.

It takes a few days for the idea to form, but soon enough, he knows what he wants to do with it. He has it polished, shaped, engraved with a capital, cursive J--for Joyce, for Josh, for Johnson, for Jacobo--and it becomes a part of a necklace that already has a wing charm strung on it. 

Not bothering to wrap it, he pockets the chain and the charms and goes off in search for Joyce. When he finds her, his hand comes to rest gently over her hip as he leans in a bit from the side. ]

Hey, Babybird. I've got something for you.

[ It's easy to forget the aches and pains and the strange malaise with this going on. All of this, openly expressing the extent of his affection, is new and it occupies his mind completely.

(With her, he forgets; doesn't tell her, because he doesn't remember.)

Slipping the necklace out of his pocket, he offers it to her, hoping she'll want to wear it. ]

[phenocrysticskin]

[ two people meme ] Joyce or Josephine?

[ No. God, no.

He freezes with his hands gripping the wooden arm of the chair hard enough to leave slight dents.

                                                                  Joyce who

               Josh has been in love with for years;

               returns his feelings;

               can be selfish and stubborn and immature;

               balances him;

               has the wings and the face and the hands of an angel;

               calls him Ponyboy and jumps on his back;

               left;

               returned.

                                                                  Josephine who

               is Josh's best friend;

               is more like family than most of his own;

               was so scared of what she could do;

               he's the most proud of;

               he doesn't hardly know at all anymore;

               has more forgiveness in her heart than he does

               stayed;

               left.

Why put him through this? ]

Joyce.

[ He hangs his head the moment her name passes his lips, ashamed that he'd chosen at all. ]

[phenocrysticskin]

How do you think it would've been, if they had all stayed?

[ If Joyce hadn't left, he might have told her how he feels sooner. He'd probably have all that much more faith in her; he wouldn't feel that if he's not careful, if he looks away for too long, that she might fly off into the night. 

(But maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't appreciate her being there quite as much as he does now. He might take it for granted that she's there in the morning and the afternoon and the nighttime. Maybe he wouldn't watch her with such lingering fascination.)

If Kes hadn't left, he wonders if he would've ever grown forgiven him, if he could have learned to be cordial, at least, to the other man who shared such a pivotal life-experience. 

(But, it seems, the time away from him is what has allowed for him to cool off, what has allowed him to recognize that the man is and was not at fault, and that he's someone he should have valued more all along. Maybe, unfortunately, Josh only learned that Kes is someone who shares his hurt and has his own because he left.)

If Josephine hadn't left, he might not have fallen; he might not have ever stumbled around and across the border into alcoholism. He might have been able to handle Joyce's absence with Josephine there.

(But, maybe, he would have fallen anyway, and maybe, he would have made her watch him do that to himself. Maybe he would have made her hurt more than whatever had made her leave ever did.)

If Cielo hadn't left, he could have been her rock. He could have tried, at least, to help her. He could have tried to help Elliot help her through the loss. He could have sheltered her.

(But he could have smothered her, too. He could have driven her from him just as easily, with how much he desires to protect everyone.)

If Luz had stayed, that light might still be there; she might not be so angry, so hurt. There'd still be cookies and pastries he could never seem to stomach littering the kitchen, and there'd still be the smiles on the faces of the others as they enjoyed them.

(But maybe she was just destined to burn out, to go dark. Maybe her being gone spared the others the pain of the eclipse.)

Different.

[ Maybe. ]

Best not to dwell in the past, though.

[phenocrysticskin]

Shouldn't you be used to people leaving by now?

[ His dad and his sister and his ex-girlfriend. 

                                               Kes and Joyce and Josephine and Ricky.

                      Luz and Rayo and Cielo and Paige.

                                                       Everyone else who'd come and gone,

                                                                                           just like that.

Maybe he should be used to it by now; maybe he should know that some people seem destined to walk out of his life, and maybe it's best for everyone involved if they can get out and live the life they think they want and need.

                                                              (And maybe he should be happy

                                                                            for them, for doing so.)

That might be true, it probably is, but that doesn't mean he's used to it; it doesn't mean he's as happy for them as he pretends to be. ]

Would you be?

[disintegrativeruin-blog]

I'd go back and talk to you when you were -- twenty-two, twenty-three? -- when we were young and everyone was here, I guess. And I guess I'd just tell you how important you were to me. Still are, Josephine. You were my first best friend and I guess I never told you how much that meant to me.

[phenocrysticskin]

What would you have done if she hadn't come back?

[ He knows, eventually, he would have probably ended up drinking himself to death if both Joyce and Josephine would have left and never returned. They understood him like no one else could.

                                                        But if Joyce…

Joyce was the one that kept him looking out the window, searching the skies. He’d had a sister leave before, and he’d learned long ago how to be happy for his family for following their own paths, so watching Josephine go wasn’t as hard as watching the girl he loved run. ]

Something stupid, probably.