# Jeff



## HLGStrider (Jan 13, 2005)

This is sort of a "feel-good" story I wrote for myself over the Summer, inspired partly by a friend joining the Marines though this Marine is nothing like my friend and has a totally different family situation, and the story is really more about the father than the Marine. It was just sort of a strange little piece that came to mind, but I like it so I thought I'd put it up for viewing.

It was one of those Saturday afternoons that occurred so often nowadays when neither of them was sure what to do with the other. All ideas were rejected on the basis that the activities were too much like what their parents had done at this point in their lives, and they weren’t their parents . . . not yet anyway.

Greg therefore set aside the creeping urge to go wax the Grand Prix. Lexi rejected utterly anything with a semblance to gardening. It was as if beginning those projects would pull Greg into retirement and hasten the turning of Lexi’s hair to gray. So they simply sat. Breakfast had been cleared away. The paper was finished. The house was clean. There was nowhere to go. 

Somehow these Saturdays were the hardest. When Greg was at work, Lexi always found plenty to busy herself: housework first, various church and political activities second. Finally there was the pet project she’d began while still teaching high school English: an annotated bibliography of everything she felt one should read before their twentieth birthday. 

It had been that project that had brought them together. She had made such a picture, sitting in a coffee shop with a copy of _The Divine Comedy_ to her left and _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ to her right, scribbling frantically on a legal pad. The young computer programmer couldn’t resist stopping to ask what the heck she was doing. When he’d married her she’d been in the D’s, somewhere after Dahl and Dante. When he’d last inquired she’d been working on Tolkien, a good bit of work for thirty years.

This project was still the sum of all the things he adored about his wife: her childish sense of humor and joy; the enthusiasm with which she tackled everything; and the great range and depth of her interests. All of this, however, was the part of her he enjoyed as an observer only. In much of their relationship he was the audience. She did things and would show him the results. She rarely asked for his help or input, and he was fine with that. He’d come home from work and ask what she’d done that day and sit back and listen to a half-hour speech on the subject before giving a five minute summary of what he’d done. Then they’d settle down to read, talk about things in more detail, or just relax in each others arms. On weekdays it worked quite well. 

Saturdays, however, he was home the whole time. They had to find something to do together. When the kids had still been home, this would’ve been seen as a gift, time when they could actually talk without being interrupted by someone wanting to borrow the car or inquire as to what was for dinner. Now, however, that time was frequent, and it was getting harder to come up with more to do. 

It was worse today. Today they needed to talk about Jeff, something neither of them was ready to do just yet. Time was ticking, though. Greg looked at the clock. The call would be about noon. Jeff always called about noon. Food wasn’t important to the young man, and if he had to spend some of his free time speaking with his parents, he would spend his lunch hour. There had to be a way to just get this over with without a long discussion--with Lexi _or_ Jeff.

“Did you see the picture Carrie sent us?” she inquired. “I left it in the inbox for you.” 

He nodded, gazing out the window. The lawn needed cut. Perhaps it would be wise to cut it now. He could say he had forgotten Jeff was going to call. 

“It’s so clear! Ultrasounds have improved since I had Jeffrey.” She managed to get the name into the conversation. “Can you believe we’re going to be grandparents?” 

“Yeah, it’s quite a stretch of the imagination, but it’s that time of life,” he replied. “Carrie is going to be quite a mother.” Lexi nodded, coming to stand beside him.

“She said she might name it after you if it is a boy. I thought that was sweet.” She slipped her arm about his waist. He smiled laughingly.

“I hope she changes her mind,” he said. “That would be confusing.” He rested his arm about her shoulders, comfortably. Their relationship was very comfortable with one exception—and that exception was due to call in twenty-five minutes. Lexi cleared her throat.

“I can’t believe how time is passing. Carrie is married and going to be a mom and Ana is engaged. Only Jeff is unattached, and he’ll be twenty as of tonight at eleven.” Greg stiffened, suddenly realizing what topic she was trying to work into the conversation. She drew a quick breath and leapt right in. “Greg, darling, when he calls promise you won’t fight? It _is_ his birthday. He needs you right now, and you make him feel two inches tall. You can’t do that today, please. If you love me at all, you won’t.”
Greg groaned inwardly. Why did she have to make this an issue of whether he loved her or not? Of course he loved her, but the problems with Jeff didn’t go away just because he loved his wife. It wasn’t as if he intentionally started things. The boy did just as much as him.

“I don’t seek out these arguments, Lex. . .”he began. 

“Bull!” She pulled away from him. “You leap on him at the slightest chance. Maybe his choices weren’t what you wanted for him, but they’re over and done with . . . and you don’t tell a twenty-year-old who may be shipped to Iraq at any time that he is wasting his life—not if you have a heart you don’t.” Now that was a low blow.

“I wouldn’t do that.” He frowned.

“Oh, it’s not stated but it’s implied.” She sat on the love seat between two big, beige pillows, pulling her knees up against her chest like a thirteen-year-old in rebellion. “The ‘How long are you in for now?’ jokes . . . asking about college scholarships all the time. . .”

“I’m simply concerned about my son’s welfare. The military is not a career that can stably provide for a family.” Greg knew the objections by heart. “The pay is bad. You get sent all over, out of the country, into God knows where, and you can get shot at. What sane father wants that life for his son? . . .Especially after saving for two decades to give him the education to be a doctor if he wanted! Instead he drops in his second year like a nincompoop! That kid can’t stick to anything!”

“That’s not true,” Lexi whispered. “Oh Greg, how can you think that about Jeff? How can you let him know you think that? Don’t you see how it hurts him? It makes him feel like dirt.”

“All I know is what I saw, bad grades and wasted time. . .” He shook his head. “Maybe he could use a healthy dose of shame. Maybe it’ll give him the sense he needs to get back on track.”

Lexi kept her eyes lowered.

“I’m going to tell him you’re gone when he calls,” she breathed. “I’ll say you got called into work on some sort of bizarre computer emergency.” He hesitated.

“OK,” he then replied.

“He’ll know I’m lying—but I don’t want you to say those things to him. You’ve already crushed him too many times.” She stood. “I’ll . . . I’ll be in the study.” She left the room.

Greg stared after her. He felt like a heel. He couldn’t leave it at this. It was all right when his quarrels with Jeff were between him and Jeff, but he couldn’t let them spill over to hurt Lex. That wasn’t right. He knocked on the door to the study. There was no answer so he pushed the door open.

“I wanted to be alone,” she choked out. 

He winced. He should’ve known she’d start to cry after that. She sat upon the floor, huddled down defensively, her back against the side of the worn couch. He eased himself next to her, his back to the wall, and took her hand.

“Lex, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. . .”

“You . . . you don’t know. You just don’t know!” she wept. “You expect him to be like you, but he’s not. He’s not you and he’s not me and he’s not Carrie or Ana either. He’s him! You never understood that.”

“I don’t expect him to be me,” he soothed.

“Oh yes you do!” she snapped. “You and your IQ and degree . . . Greg, did you ever stop to notice that Jeff barely got a diploma?” Greg blinked.


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## HLGStrider (Jan 13, 2005)

“What are you talking about?” He frowned. She turned away, flushing red. “Lexi, what do you mean he barely got a diploma? Jeff was a hard working student when you taught him. He’s a perfectly bright kid.”

“Who you think should’ve gotten better grades in college?” She smiled bitterly.

“He simply didn’t try in college,” he replied. “He was more than capable of C’s and he was flunking.”

“Greg, that boy of ours is all try. He’d bang himself into brick walls trying,” she interrupted. “Oh, he could charm a room with his smile all right, but give him a book and he’d . . .” She blinked away tears. Greg gazed at her.

“How come you never told me about this? Where was I?”

“He was the youngest and the only boy,” she began after some hesitation. “Girls are supposed to be a little quicker academically. Then when he had to learn to read I thought he might be a little dyslexic, but I didn’t want to label him or worry you and the girls didn’t need as much help so I could just concentrate on him. You only saw the results when you got home. I never showed you the hours it took going over and over _Hop on Pop_ to get him to grasp simple phonetics. Plus the early grades weren’t so bad. It wasn’t until high school that it got so hard. . .”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he pressed. “I could’ve helped.” 

“He didn’t really need help and he . . . he made me promise not to say anything. I’ll never forget. He said, ‘Mom, please don’t tell Dad. I don’t want him to know I’m an idiot.’” Greg’s heart almost stopped beating. “Of course, I told him he wasn’t, but he begged so hard that I promised not to tell you about his struggles. It was our little secret. He showed you the finished work without explaining how hard it was to get. He tried so hard . . . because he wanted you to be proud of him. I couldn’t bear betraying him. Even now it feels like I’ve done something awful.”

“You should’ve told me . . . but his test scores! They were at least a B- average. That’s good. How come in college he couldn’t keep it up?”

“In college instructors don’t have five hours a day to devote to one student, and that’s what Jeff needed. If I hadn’t homeschooled him, he would’ve dropped out two years into high school or at least been held back for forever. As it is, he can read, write, and do all the math he’ll need to, and I for one think he’s a hero. I’m glad I can say Private First Class Jacobs is my son. I’m proud that he’s willing to risk his life for his country—and I just wish you were proud of him too because it is eating him alive that you aren’t.”

“Oh Lex. . .” It was all he could manage. Words flew about his mind making no sense. In one moment the image of the boy he’d known for twenty years had evaporated, replaced by a young man he possibly wasn’t even acquainted with.

Thinking back, none of his memories of Jeff were in anyway academic. He remembered baseball, a game he hadn’t cared for until he’d seen it through Jeff’s eyes. He could remember the outdoors, how the boy’s face lit up when he’d seen his first bald eagle. He could remember him setting up an animal hospital in the back yard. At that point Jeff had wanted to be a veterinarian, but now he seemed headed towards being a vet of another sort. Gosh, he missed that kid.

He snapped out of his memories when Lexi’s arm twined around his neck. 

“Even if you aren’t proud of him, you can at least tell him you love him. That’s true, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice caressing his ears. He nodded.

“Heck, yeah,” he answered. She kissed him. He kissed back, laying her slowly down on the ground. They embraced each other. “I love you too. . .” he whispered into her ear. She smiled lovingly and held back, running her lips over his cheek. He began to relax.

_Ring. . ._

They both froze. 

_Ring. . ._

“I’ll get it.” Lexi managed to escape his embrace and scurry across the room to the desk. “Hello? . . . Oh, Jeff, happy birthday!” Her voice and manners went from those of Greg’s lover to Jeff’s mother in one word. Greg stood up. It was a transformation that had once been common, but he hadn’t seen it in awhile, and somehow it was now thrilling. He smiled at her, and for a moment the lover crept back into her eyes. Then Jeff responded and she began to talk back. 

Lexi sunk into the desk chair, laughing and talking to her baby boy. He listened. She seemed to be doing very well. Perhaps Jeff didn’t even want to speak to him. Perhaps it was too late to try again. 

There was a long period of Lexi just listening, and her face slowly fell: first her eyebrows furrowing, then her mouth hardening to a frown, then her lips melting and her jaw hanging just a bit open. 

“That soon? Will you have any time off first? . . .I see. . .Well. . .are you ready for that, Jeff?. . .Yes, I’ll pray for you everyday. You know I will. You’ll be all right . . . I love you.” 

Greg’s stomach felt empty. 

“Yes, he’s here. Do you want to talk with him?” she inquired. “Yes. I’m pretty sure he wants to speak with you. Jeffrey, I love you, baby.” She held the phone towards her husband, a pleading look in her eyes. Greg swallowed and took it.

“H . . . Hello?” he said.

“Hi, Dad.” Jeff sounded as nervous as his father felt. “I just told Mom that we’re shipping out at the end of this month.”

“Iraq?” Greg asked.

“Where else? There isn’t exactly a great need for the Marines in Maui,” the young man laughed. “I’ve been expecting it for awhile now.” Greg could hear him shift the phone from one ear to another. “I’m ready for it.”

“How long will you be over there?” Greg asked, his throat dry. He could already see his son as a news headline. Died in action . . . died in a terrorist attack . . . died of heat stroke. . .

“Officially? Eighteen months, but we all know it depends on how it goes, and they can’t predict that. No one but God knows. I suppose it’s a little comforting that He does, but I would sort of like in on the whole thing.”

“Yeah. Well. . .” Lexi got out of the chair and let Greg take her place. She kept her hand on his shoulder.

“Dad. . .” Jeff’s voice quavered a little. “I. . .I know this isn’t what you want for me, and maybe you’re right, maybe I am an idiot, but somehow I’m sure that this was the right thing. I think God wants me here right now . . . or wants me there, more of. I don’t know why, but I know enough to be sure.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Greg responded. “You’re a man now, Jeff, and you need to do what you think is right. I . . . love you.”

“I love you too, Dad.” Jeff’s smile was audible, if that was possible. “I’ll make you proud. I swear I’ll make you proud.” 

“You have already. I just. . . God bless you, Jeff.”

“Thanks. You too. I’ll be home before you know it! G’Bye!”


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## HLGStrider (Jan 13, 2005)

Greg put down the phone, laying it upon the desk still on. Lexi sat on his lap.

“You OK?” she inquired. 

“No,” he whispered. “You know, I may have been a lousy Dad, but he turned out all right. Did you do that alone?”

“I seem to remember you there somewhere.” She smiled, resting her face against his neck. “I think you were a fine father. A bit clueless at times, but just fine. . .” She reached over to push the phone’s off button, but he pulled her back.

“Leave it off the hook for awhile.” He smirked. “Where were we before Jeff called?” She laughed and kissed him. 

“Right here.” 


THE END


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## Zale (Jan 13, 2005)

Hmn. Well, it's better than mine (but completely different). Just one thing: "I think you were a fine father" after "You've already crushed him too many times": I got the impression Lexi wasn't so proud of Greg on the subject. Nitpicking, really.

Oh, and does "Polish the Grand Prix" mean they have a Formula 1 car in the garage? (Forgive me for being stupid, but I'm English.)


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## HLGStrider (Jan 24, 2005)

A Grand Prix is a Pontiac sedan over here. If Sedan is the right word. I don't know a lot about cars, but I know that my grandparents drive a Grand Prix.

I think Lexi was proud of her husband's fathering up to that point. The falling out with Jeff had been after he left college (a year or so before) for the military. Up to that point Greg had had everything under control and was being a fine father. He just couldn't understand or accept his son's decision.


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## e.Blackstar (Jan 27, 2005)

That, my dear Elgee, is lovely! I like it a lot!


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## Hobbit-GalRosie (Feb 16, 2005)

*sniff* That's a beautiful story, Elgee, I really love it. It's emotional without being sappy and it makes you feel like you're right there experiencing all this with them. Thanks so much for posting it, it's brought a bright spot to my day.


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