OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT
for Taytober- Invisible string with Jack Abbot coming to the realization he’s in love with his late wife’s best friend who’s been there for him every day since she passed (what he doesn’t know is that his wife begged her to take care of him if she ever died because “Jack needs someone to take care of- to love, and If it’s going to be anyone let it be you”)
(Is this too cliche?😭)
EVEN IF IT IS TOO CLICHE I LOVE IT!! LETS GOOOOO
TAYTOBER DAY 1!!!
as always not proofread
A string that pulled me Out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar Something wrapped all my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons Wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold Tied me to you
Carmen and Jack were brought together through accidents. Through loss. She'd been hit by a drunk driver, resulting in severe nerve damage in her left shoulder and arm. They met in the waiting room of their physical therapy office. For weeks, they shared glances and casual conversation and "Have fun"s. It took Carmen making the first move for anything to happen. Offering to make him a cup of coffee while they waited, she quickly scrawled her phone number in sharpie. He was still in the parking lot after his appointment when he called her. She told the story at their wedding.
You, and especially not either of them, ever expected for that story to be mentioned in a eulogy. At least, not so soon. Far too soon.
You watched your best friend live on top of the world for six, almost seven years. You'd never seen her so happy as when she met Jack. Every day after, a smile was always on her face. Even the days he forgot he wasn't still overseas, even the days her arm ached to the point she couldn't lift it. They stood strong through medications and breakdowns and some of the worst the world could throw at them.
In the end, though, he had to face the worst alone. She had a stroke. It was sudden and horrible and completely unexpected. Only during the autopsy, it was discovered that her heart had just stopped. She was raised by her paternal aunt and uncle was never warned to be worried about potential heart conditions because it was inherited from her mother's side.
Her sister- biologically, her cousin- made the calls. She said Jack "just couldn't." Horrified, heartbroken, you were left with one thing you never thought you'd have to do: Go to the bank and open the secret deposit box Carmen opened years before. It was the only secret she kept from Jack. One she made you swear to only ever unearth once she was dead.
You'd laughed at the time. But you weren't laughing as you walked into the bank after the funeral. And you certainly weren't laughing once you opened the box.
Inside was a single envelope. Knowing better than to open it in public, you thanked the teller who walked you into the room and went home. You cracked open a bottle of wine and sat on your couch before finally ripping into the paper. There, in the prettiest handwriting you knew, laid words that you feared might make your own heart stop.
Lovie,
My best friend, my sister. If you're reading this, I have passed on. It's my hope that you are reading this when you've already turned old and gray. It's my hope that we grew this way together. But I am a realistic woman and, at the end of every day, I know that people die whether they've lived what we deem as "long enough" or not. If this has happened to me, I have one last thing to ask of you.
I've always felt that I'll go before Jack. He'd joke that it's his luck, but you know I've always trusted my gut on these things. Like when we were in college and I woke up just knowing my grandmother had just died. Assuming my gut has not let me down, I've left you and Jack behind. Feel free to hurl curses at my grave as you've always promised to if I dared do this.
There's no two people I love more in this world than the two of you. And that is why I know that there is no two people that will need each other more than now. I'm writing this after driving home from admitting Jack into a treatment facility for what I pray is the last time. I'm sure I'll tell you all about it in the morning since this all happened so late.
All of that to say, I need you to take care of him. He can't be alone. And, as much as you like to pretend to, you don't deserve to be. He needs someone to fix, to care for. And you need a shoulder to cry on. It's both of your natures. There is no one I trust to pick your pieces up than him. And there is no one I trust to hold him together more than you. For all the love I hold for you both, please. Please, please, take care of each other. Take care of him for me, and I know he will take care of you. I hate that I can no longer do it myself.
With all of the love in the world from the other half of your soul,
Carmen
It took days before you could really get off the couch. Your entire world had ended with her passing, and now she was asking promises from beyond the grave.
At first, you ignored her. It was easy to lose yourself in your grief, in your pain. "Fuck Jack, I knew her longer. Loved her longer." You'd bitterly thought more than once. Though, those thoughts only ever surfaced after several bottles in.
And then the guilt kicked in. If you were suffering, then Jack would be too. He'd be suffering and she had begged you to not let that happen now that she's left him as your responsibility. "Like a fucking dog." The bottles had made you think.
So you stopped by the apartment. You helped him clean up, helped him cook when he was too tired (too depressed) to do it himself. It pulled you from your own dark world slowly, despite still crying yourself to sleep virtually every night. It took weeks for him to stop outright protesting your presence, and months for him to start finding comfort in it all.
You cry in each other's arms, you crash on each other's couches after drinking too much, you pick each other's pieces up bit by bit and try to glue them back in place. There's no closeness he can bring to replace the hole in your soul Carmen left behind, as your sure is mutual, but he helps. By just being there, letting you show up- and eventually showing up for you- he does.
Through all the time you spend together, he begins to heal parts of you you'd never planned to confront. You see him start to genuinely smile again while you finally shed off layers of the past you've been hiding beneath for years.
It's late- early, actually. Nearly 1 AM.
Not that it matters, though. You've taken the next day off work, knowing you'd be useless even if you just stayed in bed and slept a full twenty-four hours. Today is the day Carmen died a year ago. A year that's felt like forty.
You had almost been reckless, with this day. You'd thought about calling an ex- even that dick Evan who had a girlfriend and a child the entire time you were together because at least he was a good lay- and drowning yourself in a cloud of drunken lust.
But then you'd talked to Jack, and he spoke so gentle on the phone. He told you to "Make it a good day. For her." That was enough to sober you. So, you made the entire day revolve around her, just as it should be. You ordered breakfast from her favorite restaurant and ate it at her grave, leaving behind her favorite flowers. You walked around her favorite stores and even bought a sweater you know she would have grabbed for. While you cooked her preferred pasta dish, one of her favorite movies played. More than once, you'd text to check in on Jack.
Now, you're eating a pint of ice cream you actually quite dislike while another movie she loved plays. Through mouthfuls, you mutter along the dialogue- something she did that used to drive you wild. Your phone rings, making your heart drop. It had been doing that all day, as if your body was ready to receive that call again. This time, it's not Olivia's name but Jack's.
Swallowing both ice cream and that terrible feeling, you answer it.
"Hello." You greet kindly, knowing this can't end well.
There's almost too much background noise as he clears his throat. "Hey."
"Is everything okay?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Everything's great." He says, and now you catch the slur to his speech.
"Jack, where are you?"
"Downtown..." He answers with some hesitation. "At Murray's. They took my keys."
You sigh. There was no way this day was going to end well for him. You're just glad he only got drunk, that this call isn't something much more serious.
"I can be there in, like, twenty minutes." You're already standing up.
"Thanks. This uh, this... Thanks." He says gruffly.
"Yeah. Just sit tight okay?"
The bar- one you recognize too well from wild, stag-hunting nights- is practically empty when you walk in. Jack is slumped over the bar, sitting four seats away from another man. He's still in his scrubs from work and you have to wonder why the hell he didn't call off today. You wave over the bartender, pointing to the pile of a man you're here to pick up. He scoffs as he grabs Jack's keys. Tossing them, he says, "Good luck." You bite back something snarky because, at least he didn't let him drive.
You step over to him and place a hand on his back. He grunts in response, barely looking up. "Hey, you ready?" You ask, trying to catch his bloodshot eyes.
"Oh, hey." He sits up as he finally recognizes you. "Nice sweater."
"Hey." You smile thinly. "Let's go."
He nods. "Yeah, okay. I think that's best." He gets up slowly, like he has to make each limb move individually.
You sling a heavy arm around your shoulders. "Your place or mine?" You joke, having to use more strength than you expected to keep him upright and walking.
He lets out a breath, you think it was supposed to be a laugh. "Your pick, sunshine." He grumbles.
You roll your eyes and help him stumble out to the parking lot. He virtually collapses into your passenger seat.
"Buckle." You mutter, securing yourself into the drivers.
He says something that's too quiet and too slurred to understand so you let it slide. As you pull out of the parking lot though, he asks, "No music?" like it offends him.
"Had other things on my mind." You glance at him, seeing he's curled half-sideways.
He grunts in what you guess is protest and paws at the radio until he finds some old rock song, then cranks the audio. Using the steering wheel, you lower it by a notch every few seconds to not be complained at while still saving your car's speakers. He's staring out the window, already distracted from the song.
As easily as driving home, you go to his place. Turning off the car is what makes him turn and look at you.
"Sorry." He says quietly.
You shake your head. "Let's just get you in bed, okay?"
Helping him up to his apartment, he apologizes a dozen more times. You kindly remind him that "this is what I'm here for" and "it's okay, I promise."
You make it to the living room couch before you have to dump his all-but dead weight. He lands with a grunt, easily shifting to lay his full length across the cushions. Wordlessly, you get him Advil, a bottle of water, and the bathroom trashcan. You pull the blanket from the back of the couch and lay it across him.
He groans softly. "Hey," A hand comes out, just barely grabbing your wrist before you pull away. "Thank you-"
"Jack, stop talking." You say softly.
"No, no." He shakes his head and moves to sit up on an elbow. "Really. You've always been here. I never asked you to before tonight, but you showed up every time I needed you. Even when I didn't know I did."
You bite your lip, feeling the too-familiar sting of tears. "You don't have to thank me-"
"I do." He nods, too hard. "I do. I was awful to you there in the beginning. I-I- you should've told me to go to hell."
The night feels like it's crashing down on you at once, making your knees buckle until your butt hits the coffee table. "I wouldn't have-"
"You're too good." He goes on, blinking heavily. You doubt he's actually waiting for any input at all. "Too... too good. Just like Carmy."
You cringe. "Jack, please don't." There's been a million drunken conversations about her over the last year, of course. But not tonight, you just can't do tonight.
He sits up, the blanket falling away. "You're right." He sighs. "I'm s-"
"Don't apologize again." You say, more firm than you've been with him all night. "I'm..."
I'm only doing what Carmen asked me to. You hesitate because, well... that's not the complete truth, is it? You could've just called him an Uber, you'd though about it even. But thinking of Jack stumbling his way back into his and Carmen's place alone, probably winding up on the kitchen floor, made your heart twist.
"I'm doing this because I want to." You say softly.
After a second, he nods. Slowly, he lays back down. "For what it's worth." He mumbles, almost incomprehensibly. "I'm really glad you stuck around."
Fighting a sniffle, you smile softly. "Me too, Jackie. Now try to sleep."
Divider Tag: @uzmacchiato
