J Duncan - Deadworld

“They aren’t all your stepfather. There are a few good ones out there.”

She tried to grin. “That might be debatable.”

“Cut the shit! Quit hating yourself, hon. Forgive your mother for being weak and stop being scared you are just like her. You aren’t. Trust me.”

Anger billowed up inside. “I don’t hate myself! And what’s with all the psychobabble? All I did was smack Pernetti-”

“Because you’re half drunk! Why? To mull over the case? Bullshit! You don’t need six fucking shots of tequila to mull over anything.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Quit talking, Jack!” Laurel released her steel grip on Jackie’s hand and stabbed a finger at her again. “This isn’t about today or punching Pernetti. This is just the final straw, and I’ve got to say something before it drives me insane and makes me hate you.”

Jesus Christ. The ghost shit had really done a number on her. Clearly, she had to get something off her chest, so Jackie stayed silent and waited.

“I don’t want to hate you. I want…” She paused, gathering herself, and heaved a sigh. “Damnit, Jackie. You need to figure this out. I don’t want to cover your ass anymore on this stuff.”

Jackie shrugged. “Okay. Then don’t. You don’t need to do that. I’m a big girl, you know.”

Laughter half dissolved into tears. “That’s just the thing. You’re still that little girl inside who is terrified she’ll become her mother, and no amount of alcohol is going to hide that fear, Jackie. It’ll never go away until you face it down.”

“I, um…” What could she say to those tears? Everything inside turned to a quivering, gelatinous mess. Part of her wanted to lash out, tell Laurel to fuck off for being so presumptuous, but the problem was, she was right. “I will.”

“When, Jackie? When cirrhosis sets in? When you’re eighty years old and lonely and bitter and realize you’re going to die never having loved a single person in your life because you were too afraid to let them see who you are?”

“I don’t drink that much,” she said defensively.

“Only when you want to be with a guy. Because you’re too afraid they’ll see your mother in you.”

Tears welled up in Jackie’s eyes. “That’s not true.”

Laurel squeezed her hand, tears spilling down her own cheeks. “It is, and it’s ruining you, Jackie. You have to deal with this somehow.”

“I can deal with it fine.” The words did not even sound truthful to herself, and she wiped at the tear that threatened to spill. “I do just fine.”

“You ever want to love? You ever want a real, honest relationship?”

“Of course,” Jackie said with a laugh. They had to stop talking now, or she was going to burst into tears, and with her luck, the guys would all come walking through the parking lot just then.

“Then do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Next time you want to be with a guy, no drinking. Can you do that?”

What a stupid question. But deep down Jackie was not sure. She tried to imagine taking a guy home for the night, completely sober, completely herself. Christ. Jackie took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “I… Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” Laurel said, seemingly satisfied for the moment. She reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue. “Here. Scary thought, isn’t it?”

“What’s that?”

“Letting someone see who you really are. Inside.”

Jackie swallowed the lump in her throat and just nodded, wiping at the tears that ran down her cheeks now. She felt twelve years old all of a sudden.

“You’re a good person, Jackie. Amazing, really. You’ve got nothing to be afraid of in that regard.”

The tears kept coming, and Jackie nodded dumbly again. Laurel knew what she was afraid of, far more clearly than she had been willing to admit, obviously. Jackie could see the image of her mother now, floating peacefully, smiling. Sad how the only time she could recall her smile was in death. Her body began to shake now, overwhelmed by the dam of emotion that crumbled within.

“I don’t want to end up like her,” she said, stuttering through the sobs that welled up. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

Laurel’s arms came around Jackie then, holding her tightly. “I know, hon. You won’t. Trust me, you won’t.”

“How can you know?”

“I just do, okay.”

For some reason, that was enough. It was the soothing, motherly tone, perhaps. Or maybe she was just being psychic. Whatever it was, Jackie didn’t care. The release felt good, and she held Laurel for a long moment, savoring the brief feeling of security it brought. When the sobs had finally stopped wracking her, Jackie let go. “Thanks, Laur.”

“Welcome,” she said with a little laugh, “and I’m sorry for being a bitch. I had to say something for my own sanity’s sake. I’ve been ready to strangle you for a while now.”

Jackie chuckled at the thought and sagged back in the seat. She felt exhausted all of a sudden, beyond tired. “No. I had it coming, I think. I mean, you’re my only real friend, for fuck’s sake. If you can’t stand me, who else am I going to turn to?”

Laurel looked at her hard for a long moment. “Some things need to change, that’s for sure. For one, you can quit defending me against the dykey-witch insults.”

“Hey, now! I won’t put up with homophobic bullshit from anyone.”

She gave Jackie a hesitant smile. “Even if the accusation is true?”

“What?” Laurel’s words did not sink in right away, dawning on her slowly as Laurel watched her with a steady, expectant gaze. “You’re saying you’re a dykey witch.” Laurel nodded at Jackie, whose eyes suddenly went wide. “But… Laur! You aren’t… I mean, how can you be? Jesus fucking Christ!” She reached over and slugged Laurel in the arm. “How come you’ve never told me? Oh, my God.”

It was Laurel’s turn to slump back in her seat. “I’m sorry, Jackie. Honestly, I thought you knew.”

“Pernetti knows?” It was quickly becoming apparent that Jackie might be the only person in the bureau who did not know.

She winced at Jackie’s embarrassment. “I think most everyone does. They’re just afraid to make any remarks about it in your presence.”

“Damn straight,” she said, “or rather… um… Fuck, Laur.” Her mind just could not get around the idea. How could she have not known? “Am I that self-absorbed?”

“Oh, no,” Laurel said, laying a hand on Jackie’s arm, who abruptly pulled it away from her touch. “I didn’t want it to interfere with anything.” She looked down at Jackie’s arm with a resigned sadness. “I’m sorry.”

Wow. A couple shots of tequila sounded really damn good now. “Well, I’m in no position to say a damn thing, am I?” She laughed at the irony. “I don’t even know what to think right now. I can’t. I’m half wasted and tired as hell. But I’m okay with it. Being gay, I mean. I’m more shocked at myself, I think.”

Laurel nodded. “It’s okay. This is good though, us talking about all this. We’ve needed to get some things out in the open. For once, I guess we can thank Pernetti for being an asshole.”

Jackie laughed. “I’m just not sure what to do with it all.”

“Nothing.” Laurel started up the car. “Go take a hot bath. Sleep. Figure out what you’re going to say to Belgerman tomorrow about all this.”

“Shit. That’s not going to be fun.”

“Nope, and I hope it’s not as bad as it could be. Did you at least figure out anything more on the case?”

“No.” Jackie wadded the tissue up in her fist. “We’ll keep looking into Mr. Anderson and his company. There’s something there. We just need to find it.”