Chapter 1 Notes: Here's the first chapter of a story idea that's been rolling around in my head for a while. I don't want to give too much away, but this is set shortly after the Year in the Life revival. It will take place in Philadelphia and Stars Hollow. Like most of my stories it will be Jess-centric, but it will include large amounts of Luke, along with some Lorelai, Rory and April and possibly some other townspeople. Between grad school and work, I won't be able to keep up with weekly updates for this one, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so I wanted to start writing it. Please let me know if this feels like a story that you would have interest in reading. The first chapter is a bit slow, but I wanted to set the scene. There will be more dialogue in future chapters.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own obsession with Gilmore Girls.
This wasn't it. He could tell at first sight. It wasn't going to work. This guy was all wrong. From the fitted tee-shirt showing off all the hours he spent working on his arms at the gym, to his strategically tousled long hair, his carefully careless-looking facial hair, and the huge, pretentious bookcase, teeming with books, that filled almost an entire wall of the apartment. The more he watched and listened to this guy, the more obvious it was. This guy wasn't looking to be a dad or find a kid to love. The guy was already in love with his own self-image. He should have just stayed at the last group home. It hadn't been bad there, and he wouldn't have had to switch schools that way. Again. And the result would have been the same. Him, on his own, alone in the world in every way that mattered. Again. He knew this was his last chance. He would turn eighteen in less than four months. He was disappointed at having been cheated out of something he wanted so much, but he also felt ridiculous for being stupid enough to have believed this could be it. That he could have lucked into a forever family in the eleventh hour.
He already knew in the car on the drive over, when Ms. Garcia had told him what to expect. A single man. Early thirties. First time foster parent. Worked in publishing. Lived in an apartment in Philadelphia. None of that was in line with his experience of families who wanted to adopt. Your odds were better if there were two parents. If they lived in a house outside the city. If they were age appropriate, meaning in their forties or fifties for him, and they had exhausted all other avenues of starting a family. This guy was too young to ever see him as a son. He wouldn't want to be a dad to a seventeen-year-old. Whatever his reasons for doing this, they were likely self-serving. Maybe this guy envisioned himself as some kind of do-gooding saint. Maybe he thought having a foster child would impress women. Whatever the guy's deal was, this wasn't it. He felt the disappointment turning his stomach. He wanted to cry. He always got emotional at the start of a new placement, but he had gotten much better at not showing it over the years. It always felt like a kick-in-the-teeth reminder of how alone he was. Meeting another stranger, sometimes a whole family of strangers, and knowing that the odds got lower each time that he would fit in and be accepted into their family. That he would have someone to hold onto for the rest of his life.
"Jeremy?" Ms. Garcia was looking at him now. He had missed something.
"Sorry. What?"
She smiled at him gently, her brown eyes warm with encouragement. She knew this was hard for him. She knew how much he still wanted a family, even though all the other kids his age that he knew in the system had given up trying years ago. She was the only one who didn't think he was pathetic for hanging on to the hope. "I asked if you're ok with me leaving now. Are you ready?"
He couldn't count all the times she had asked him that same question over the past twelve years. He knew he had been in ten different placements, some weeks and some years, but he couldn't remember them all. He returned the smile, trying to hide his disappointment. She had always been nice to him, and she had kept looking for placements with resource families for him long after the odds for adoption had turned against him. He didn't want to make her day harder. "Uh, yeah, I'm good. Thanks, Ms. Garcia."
"All right then, sweetie. You be good. I'll be back to see you next month." She squeezed his shoulder as she rose from her seat at the table. "Ok, Jeremy?"
He nodded wordlessly, small smile still on his lips. He watched the guy walk her to the door. Heard them exchange a few words about next month's check in. Ms. Garcia told the guy to call her if he needed anything. She waved at Jeremy and called out a goodbye before the apartment door closed behind her. Jeremy listened to the click of her heels receding as she descended the staircase. Then the guy was walking back to the table, standing beside it hesitantly, as if he was unsure whether he should sit down again or not. He took a half-step toward the chair the social worker had just vacated, the one closest to Jeremy, then changed course and pulled out the chair he had been sitting in before Ms. Garcia left. The one across the table. He sat down and leaned in, resting his forearms on the table, folding his hands together and looking very earnest, if still somewhat nervous.
"So, I think we should probably go over a few things. Just so we both know what to expect from each other, since this is a new situation for us. Well, for me anyway." The guy paused. "So, uh, you can just call me Jess. You probably would have guessed that anyway, but I didn't want you to think you had to call me Mr. Mariano like Ms. Garcia kept doing. That was uncomfortably formal. I'm not sure I've ever been called Mr. Mariano that many times in my own home before." He laughed lightly, the sound hollow and nervous to Jeremy's ears. "And, uh, I don't have a lot of rules or anything. But, since I am responsible for you, I need to know where you are. I need you to tell me where you're going whenever you leave the apartment. And who you're with and when you'll be back. All the standard stuff." He paused. "And you need to go to school. And do your homework. And pass your classes and all that."
Jeremy knew he was staring at this guy blankly. Go to school? Pass his classes? This conversation was ridiculous. He should have stayed at the group home. This guy was a joke. How the hell did he pass the class to become a resource parent?
"I think that's all I've got. That's not too bad is it?" The guy smiled broadly at Jeremy, who was about to shake his head in agreement, when the guy had another thought. "Oh, uh, maybe one more thing." Jeremy could tell from his pleased expression that the guy thought that whatever he was about to say was particularly witty. "I'm really into words and I absolutely hate the word 'whatever' as an answer to anything. As in, hey, Jeremy, do you want to go out for dinner tonight? Whatever, Jess. Or hey, Jeremy, how was school today? Whatever, Jess. You catch my drift?" Jeremy didn't nod. The guy laughed lightly to fill the awkward space. "It's a little pet peeve of mine, and I think we'll communicate a lot better if we use our words instead of whatever'ing each other all the time." The guy quirked one side of his mouth up in a half-smirk. "What do you think? Does that sound all right to you?"
This was the kind of guy who saw himself as charming and interesting. Whatever the reason he decided to foster, it was definitely about him. Jeremy felt a fresh wave of disappointment, this time tinged with anger at how unfair his life was. Something in his chest constricted. He made sure to maintain steady eye contact. "Yeah, Mr. Mariano. Whatever."
Jeremy watched the guy's expression shift, the tightening of his mouth as the smile disappeared and the barely perceptible hardening of his eyes. He knew he had already wrecked things, but it felt better that way. Easier. He would ride out his time here, until he graduated high school or was sent back to the group home, but he wouldn't get close. He wouldn't get his hopes up. For once, he would protect himself.
The guy sighed and looked down at the table in front of his hands. When he looked back up, his eyes had softened, and Jeremy found unexpected compassion there. But, it was too late. Jeremy knew first impressions mattered and he had ruined his. The thing foster parents hated most, especially the ones who were in it to prove what good people they were, was personal rejection from the ungrateful kid they were trying to help. It all suddenly felt like too much. All the past foster families he had let himself become attached to who hadn't wanted to keep him. All the years spent trying to convince other people that he was loveable and helpful and worth keeping. A lifetime lived with the stress of constantly auditioning for the role of 'son' and 'brother' and never landing the part. The idea of aging out of the system alone weighed heavily on him, his future looming before him, scary and uncertain. His last chance to have a family was here, but it was all wrong. And it didn't matter anyhow, because it was over before it had even started. In a mortified panic, he felt tears burning in his eyes and worked to force them back. When the guy spoke again, it was with more kindness than he expected. And it was more than he could take. "Look, Jeremy, I don't want us to get off on the wrong foot here. I'm sorry, if I-"
To his horror, Jeremy started to cry then. He didn't scrunch up his face or openly sob. He didn't make a sound as the tears ran down his face in a steady stream. He wiped furiously at his eyes and cheeks with his sleeves and the backs of his hands, feeling betrayed by his own emotions. He never did this. He was stronger than this. He lowered his head in shame to compose himself, and he started to panic for real when he couldn't stop his tears. He felt trapped and exposed. He hadn't even been shown his room yet and had no place to turn for privacy. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried like this in front of someone else. Most of his crying in the last few years had been done in private. Lying in bed, in the middle of a sleepless night, the feeling of being utterly alone in the world too much to bear, crushing him body and soul with its intensity, and forcing silent tears from his eyes.
"Hey…hey, c'mon." The concern he heard in the guy's voice only made Jeremy's tears come quicker. He felt humiliated. For acting like an asshole and giving the guy attitude when he hadn't even done anything wrong, other than not being who Jeremy had wanted him to be. And now for crying like an idiot, like a pathetic little kid. He rested his elbows on the table and hid his face behind his hands, fingers cupped on either side of his eyes, trying to hide himself, wanting to disappear. He heard the short scrape of a chair moving on the floor, then another. Then he felt the guy sitting next to him and a warm hand gently rubbing his back between his shoulder blades. "It's ok, Jeremy. I'm sorry if I upset you."
Jeremy shook his head side to side. Nothing was ok. Everything felt hopeless. He couldn't have made a worse impression if he had tried. This guy didn't sign on for some pathetic teenager having a breakdown at his kitchen table. No wonder no one had ever wanted to keep him.
"I know this has to be really tough for you. Moving in with a stranger like this. Uprooting your life and leaving your friends for your senior year." Jeremy listened as the guy spoke in a soft, careful voice. "I really want you to feel welcome here. I'm sorry we got off to a rough start. I didn't mean to upset you."
Jeremy could feel the tears slowing as he wiped at his eyes. He kept his head down even though the tears were stopping. He wiped away the last traces of wetness with his sleeve. He was too ashamed to look up. "I'm sorry." He said, his voice soft and full of hurt. He felt like a loser. Like a five-year old. He couldn't believe he had just melted down in front of this guy like that.
The hand momentarily paused on his back, and Jeremy braced himself to be spoken to sternly, reprimanded for his shitty attitude, before it resumed rubbing small, gentle circles. "Thank you. I appreciate that." The hand moved to his shoulder, squeezing gently, encouragingly, before it pulled back. Jeremy instantly missed the contact, but he instinctively knew what was expected of him. He gave his eyes one last swipe with his sleeve and sat up in his chair, his face flushed from crying and shame. He looked at his new foster father and was met with a soft smile.
"So, how about if we put the last twenty minutes or so behind us, and start fresh? I'm really glad you're here. I want you to know that." The guy, Jess, was smiling so warmly at him that Jeremy let himself believe it was true, no matter how unlikely it seemed.
Jeremy nodded slowly. "Ok." He tried to return the smile, but his own felt weak and inadequate in comparison, so he gave it up. "I'm sorry for what I said. I don't even know why I said it. I'm not really like that."
Jess shrugged. "It's ok, Jeremy. Really. We've all said things we've regretted later. And, I need you to know that I wasn't mad at you. I mean, I was annoyed that you were fuck-, uh deliberately messing with me." Jess smiled slightly at his own slip-up. "But I wasn't angry. I was more frustrated than anything. And even if I had been angry, or if I do get angry, I'm not going to do anything to you, ok? You don't need to worry about me hurting you or anything like that. I would never do that. I want you to know that. I don't even yell, I swear. I want you to know that you're safe here."
Jeremy took in the concern in Jess' eyes and accepted the statement for what it was intended to be, a caring reassurance. It wasn't Jess' fault that it didn't come close to addressing Jeremy's actual concerns. One of the things he always hated about starting in a new placement, was losing another piece of his past. He had learned a long time ago, that it was too exhausting to try to catch a new foster parent up on what his life had been like before he had met them. Exhausting and impossible. And pointless, since many of them didn't care about the details of his life before he had entered theirs.
He just nodded at Jess and did his best to look sincere about wanting to get along.
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Jess laid in bed that night thinking. He had given up on the book he had been trying to read, his mind too preoccupied with what he had gotten himself into to concentrate on anything else. He wasn't ready for this. He had made the kid cry within minutes of becoming his foster parent. That couldn't be a good sign. He had felt terrible about how scared and freaked out the kid had looked when he thought he had pissed Jess off. Like he had expected Jess to yell or smack him around for a few measly syllables of attitude. He hadn't enjoyed watching Jeremy cry, but he had been relieved when the kid had immediately backed down from the tough guy act. Jess could only imagine how much worse this situation would be if the boy had remained openly defiant. He hoped he had convinced the kid he wasn't an asshole, that he would treat him right, but he wasn't sure. The kid hadn't wanted much to do with him after their initial conversation. He hadn't been rude or anything, just said he had already eaten dinner when Jess had offered to make him something. He claimed he was tired and wanted to turn in early, but Jess had seen the light in his room spilling out under the door for a couple of hours after he had closed himself in there. He knew it was natural for the kid to want space his first night in a strange apartment with a strange man, but he still couldn't help feeling like he was being rejected. He hoped he hadn't already ruined things.
He thought about showing Jeremy to his bedroom, the one that had clearly been designed for a younger child. The cartoon dogs on the sheets. The Walter Dean Myers and Chris Crutcher novels lined up in the small bookcase. The colorful decals of trees and animals that transformed one wall of the room into what Jess had thought a ten or twelve-year old would see as a pretty cool jungle. He had been embarrassed by the room when he had seen it through Jeremy's eyes, knowing the impression it must have made on him. That he wasn't wanted. That he was too old. A poor substitute for the much younger boy whose arrival had been prepared for and anticipated. Jess had told him that they could fix up the room however Jeremy wanted. Take down the decals. Buy new bedding. Put up posters if Jeremy wanted them. And Jeremy was free to help himself to anything on Jess' bookshelf if he needed something to read. Jeremy had been gracious about it. Said it was fine. That the room was great. He'd lived in worse. And he liked dogs, he didn't mind the sheets. But, Jess knew some damage had been done. He should have kept the room more neutral. He knew he wasn't guaranteed the age group he had requested. But, seventeen? It felt ridiculous. He was only thirty-three. How was he supposed to be a parent to a seventeen-year old?
He suddenly felt foolish for going through with becoming a foster parent on his own. He let himself think about Charisse, knowing as soon as he opened that door that it would be a rough night. He knew he would never have become a foster parent, would never have even entertained the idea, if it hadn't been for her influence at the beginning, and then her, what…complete lack of faith in him at the end? Was it even fair to call it that? They had been together for four years, lived together for three. She had always wanted to foster and eventually adopt. She had been upfront about that from the beginning. And, Jess could admit now that in the early days of their relationship, he figured that they either wouldn't last or that she would change her mind and decide she wanted a baby of her own instead. He hadn't been too worried about it. During their third year together, she had started pushing for forward progress. Jess loved her. He didn't want to lose her. He agreed to become a foster parent. He could still picture the smile on her face when he had finally agreed. The love in her brown eyes when she pulled him into a kiss. She admitted that she hadn't been sure he would ever get on board with the idea. And that she loved him so much, and she was so happy that he wanted to do this with her, start a family together. It was going to great, he'd see.
Over the next year, they began a long and sometimes frustrating relationship with the Department of Child and Family Services. They moved into a two-bedroom apartment and watched their money more vigilantly to afford the higher rent. They filled out the comprehensive application for prospective resource parents that needed to be filed with the county. Then the one that needed to be filed with the state. They wrote a letter on why they wanted to be foster parents. They got letters of recommendation, his from his uncle Luke and from Chris at Truncheon, hers from her sister and the principal at the elementary school she taught at. They got finger printed and interviewed by social workers. They had home inspections, from both the county and the state. They spent five Saturdays in a row in a hot classroom on a community college campus taking the classes to become resource parents, another Saturday at the Red Cross getting certified in CPR. They fixed up the room down the hall. They went to bed each night, one day closer to their shared goal, whispering about what it would be like to have a child, anticipating family outings, trips to the zoo, the natural history museum, throwing a ball around in the park, teaching their little person to ride a bike, reading bedtime stories, sharing themselves and loving another person, being a family.
Those scenes played over in Jess' head. He knew there had been some nights like that, full of hope and excitement. He hadn't made them up. They just hadn't been the norm. He was getting good at only seeing what he wanted when he looked back, the happy parts of the last year he had spent with Charisse, the start of his journey toward parenthood. When he let himself look closer at the details, he could see Charisse growing frustrated with him. Could hear the recriminations in her words, and he knew now that he couldn't deny any of her charges, even though he had tried at the time. He saw himself scribbling down answers to a homework assignment at the last minute as she drove them to class because he had had a crazy week at work and hadn't prioritized this process. He thought about how he had held off telling his people until the last possible moment, not asking Luke and Chris for letters of recommendations until right before the application had to be turned in. He remembered Charisse overhearing him on the phone with Luke, telling his uncle that he didn't want to talk about the 'foster care thing', that he was tired of thinking about it. He knew even with Charisse, he had evaded more conversations than he had had about the process, the child, their future family. He pictured Charisse handling both home inspections on her own, even though she had had to use sick days while he had a flexible work schedule. He hadn't been fully engaged, or 'all in' as Luke liked to say. He had had one foot outside the door the whole time, just in case.
He pictured Charisse telling him that she had cried as she decorated the room down the hall by herself after he had begged off another request to do it together. She had told him later that that had been the breaking point for her, when she finally admitted to herself that what they were doing wasn't going to work. She knew that things wouldn't have been that way, with her setting up the child's room by herself while he went to the gym, if this was something his heart was really into. She felt like she was already doing this on her own and they didn't even have the child yet. If she wasn't going to get the support she wanted from him, she might as well be alone for real and go into this thing as a single parent. She had no illusions that everything wouldn't be hard enough without trying to drag another person along with her when he clearly wasn't interested. She didn't think he was ready to be a parent, and that maybe he wasn't cut out to adopt at all. She had wanted this so badly, and with him, that she had convinced herself that he was ready, but he wasn't. She knew that now. She had overlooked his selfishness, and his constant need to have things his way and on his schedule. She wished he had been honest with her from the start, and that they both hadn't wasted so much time. She wished she had been honest with herself about him, too. She wanted so much to foster a child and be a mom to a kid who needed a home. She had always seen herself doing that, even when she had been a kid herself, she had already seen it as her calling. But, she had come to the realization that she no longer wanted to do it with Jess. She had stayed with a friend for the following two weeks, until school let out. He could still feel her in his arms as they held each and cried before they loaded the final boxes into her car and said goodbye. He had offered to let her keep the apartment, but she had turned him down. She was moving back to Baltimore to stay with her sister for the summer and regroup.
He had loved Charisse, still did if he was being honest with himself. And the breakup still hurt. He often found himself dwelling on the reasons she had given for ending things, his selfishness, his need to have things his way. And while he wasn't sure he could refute the accusations, he hadn't liked hearing them from someone he had been so close to and who had known him so well. After the breakup, he had been left with the task of explaining that they wouldn't be moving forward with fostering when the social worker called to follow up. Ms. Garcia had been understanding. She told him to take all the time he needed. That it was wise to give himself some time to grieve his relationship before moving forward with the process. To give her a call when he was ready to start again. That the only change he would need to make would be to resubmit a few pages of his application as a solo candidate. He had started to tell her that Charisse had been the driving force here, that he had no interest in moving forward in the process without her. Ever. But, something had held him back. Instead, the idea of fostering as a single parent had lurked in the back of his mind all summer. The idea surfaced when he broke the news to Chris and Matthew, who were both in long-term relationships and had had babies within the last couple of years, and they had each expressed their sympathy at the loss of Charisse before asking if Jess was relieved about getting out of the whole foster care thing. They had never really been able to picture him doing it. The idea gained mental traction when he had gone back to Stars Hollow over fourth of July weekend and talked to Luke about the breakup. Luke had hugged him and told him how sorry he was to hear that, reassuring him that someday he would find someone who wouldn't ask him for more than he could give. Jess had averted his eyes from his uncle as he absorbed that blow.
Jess liked to think that he had spent that summer thinking about all the kids in foster care who needed a loving parent to take care of them, a positive male role model to help them grow up, someone, anyone, who cared and could make this very difficult time in their lives a little easier. That he had reflected on his own situation, unwanted by his mother at seventeen, his father nowhere to be found, knowing that Luke's being there for him had saved him in so many ways that he wanted to pay that forward to some other kid in need of a safe place to live, a roof over their head and some parental attention and affection. Those reasons had to have played into his decision to call Ms. Garcia that August, to resubmit his paperwork with a new stipulation that the child be a boy and old enough to meet all his bathroom needs independently and not need a babysitter if Jess needed to run out for an hour or so. At least he hoped they had. He was comfortable with those reasons. They were solid and responsible, dripping with compassion and the desire to do good. He was not an expert on this, but he had the deep down feeling that fostering a child just to prove that he was the kind of person who could was a pretty shitty reason.
As soon as Jess switched off the lamp on his bedside table, he remembered the pattern of glow in the dark stars that Charisse had painstakingly affixed to the ceiling in Jeremy's room in the shape of real constellations and sighed. He really needed to do something about that bedroom.
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Jess dragged himself out of bed the following morning. He was usually an early riser, often hitting the gym or going for a run before work, but he had had trouble falling asleep the night before. Remembering what had kept him up, tossing and turning with worry, jolted him back to the reality of the teenage boy living in the room down the hall. He grabbed his phone off his nightstand and checked the time, 8:47. Shit, it was late. Chris and Matthew wouldn't care if he rolled into the office late, but he hadn't wanted Jeremy to wake up to an empty apartment. He should have been up first, making the kid breakfast, like a good host. He corrected that thought, like a good parent. He put on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers and pulled a tee-shirt on over his head. It was early September and the weather was still hot and sticky with humidity. He had gotten into the habit of sleeping in just his boxers, but he would have to remember to at least wear a tee-shirt too, from now on in case he needed to get up in the middle of the night for an emergency or if Jeremy needed something.
Jess walked into the living room and saw no sign of Jeremy. The boy had been careful about taking all his baggage into his bedroom with him the night before, all being one backpack and one large black trash bag full of his things. Jess had made a mental note to buy the kid a duffel bag or something. The garbage bag had depressed him. Jess walked back down the hall past his own room to Jeremy's. The door was ajar. The kid must have gotten up during the night and not closed it all the way. He was surprised he hadn't heard Jeremy walking around since he had spent most of the night awake in his own bed. He peeked through the opening in the door, not wanting to knock if the kid was still sleeping. It was Friday. He figured he would let the kid take the day off to get settled in and then enroll him in school on Monday. Making him start on a Friday just seemed mean. And, it was a moot point now, since they had slept in and likely missed school anyway. Jess paused in thought, realizing he didn't know what time school started. He would need to look that up before Monday. He had a couple of things he had to do at the office this morning, but he was thinking he could duck out early and spend the afternoon showing the kid around. Jess pushed the door open a little wider to get a view of the bed. It sat neatly made in the empty room.
His heart thumped in his chest. Shit. Had the kid run off? He remembered hearing about runaway foster kids in class. Was he supposed to call the police? Or his social worker? He vaguely recalled something about an emergency DCFS hotline that he was supposed to call to report a runaway. He wished he had paid more attention in class and taken actual notes. He needed to find his information binder. He hurried into the kitchen and stopped short at the kitchen table, grabbing up the folded piece of paper with his name on it. He paused before opening it, grateful the kid had left him a dear john letter but not looking forward to reading the kid's reasons for running away. Had Jess made that awful of an impression in one night? Was Jeremy going to reiterate Charisse's points that he wasn't the right type of person to take care of a child, that it didn't feel like his heart was in it? Could Jeremy have seen that already?
Jess unfolded the paper and read the small, neat printing: Good morning Jess, I didn't want to wake you, but I wanted to tell you that I went to school. I'll lock the door behind me when I leave, but I don't have a key and won't be able to get back in. I'll get out of school around 2:30, so I'll just wait out front until you get home. Jeremy.
Jess' instant relief was quickly supplanted by harsh self-criticism. What kind of parent oversleeps on their kid's first day at a new school and makes him enroll himself? Even Liz had managed to get Jess enrolled in a new school whenever they had moved school districts. How had he messed this up so badly already? He should have asked Jeremy when he wanted to start, instead of assuming that the kid cared about school as little as Jess had at his age. He should have given him a key. And money. Shit. How would he even eat lunch? He hoped the kid had money on him. But, what if he didn't? Was Jess supposed to go to the school and bring him a packed lunch in case he didn't have money? Or was that just something that parents did on TV? Would that make things worse? He stared at the note. He decided to believe that Jeremy knew what he was doing and had lunch money on him. He looked around the kitchen, hoping the kid had at least grabbed something for breakfast or taken something with him. He pulled open the door to the cabinet where he kept ready to eat snacks, like nuts and protein bars, but it didn't look like anything was missing. He checked the fridge, then the fruit bowl on the counter for a missing banana, but all were accounted for with two left, as there should be on Friday. He ate one every morning and then went grocery shopping on Saturday. Shit.
Jess put the note back down on the table with a sigh and headed to the bathroom to shower, feeling like a failure on his first day as a foster parent. He figured he couldn't do anything to help the situation for the moment, so he might as well put in a few hours at work. He would still leave early, Chris and Matthew wouldn't mind, and he would make damned sure to be the one sitting out front waiting for Jeremy at 2:30.