Waste All My Time Just Thinking of You, Part One
Masterpost
All My Children. The Price is Right. Maury. Dora the Explorer.
Nick Miller set down the remote with a sigh and ran his hand through his curls in frustration. Daytime programming sucked. School would definitely have been preferable at that moment.
Instead, he was stuck in bed, yelling abierto at the TV. Not that he was actually helping Dora or anything. But he was bored. He’d been given the all-clear to walk down the hall to the playroom if he wanted, but seriously, he was sixteen, not six. He had no interest in playing with toy cars with a bunch of kids.
Fortunately, Nick’s brother Kevin poked his head through the door at that moment. Nick scrambled for the remote to shut the TV off, extremely thankful for Kevin’s awesome timing (although he wasn’t in time to save Nick from getting the “I’m the map!” song stuck in his head). Kevin raised his eyebrows at Nick’s choice of show, but chose not to comment.
“Hey bro,” he said, sitting on the edge of Nick’s bed once Nick scooted over to make room. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m bored and fine and I want to go home,” Nick replied immediately.
Kevin frowned slightly and looked at him with a critical eye. “Are you really fine, or are you just saying that?”
Nick felt his face heat up as a dull blush rose in his cheeks. “I’m really fine. Mostly. They want my levels to be more or less stable for a couple more days before they let me go home.”
Kevin relaxed and smiled. “Well then, you’ll be home before you know it.”
“Yeah, if I don’t die of boredom first.”
“Is Dora not keeping you entertained, Nick?”
“Shut up,” Nick mumbled. “It was that or All My Children.”
Kevin snickered. “You know, there are books and stuff for kids your age in the playroom, I’m pretty sure.”
“I’m not a kid!” Nick snapped immediately.
Kevin rolled his eyes, but amended, “Fine, for people your age. Better?”
“Much,” Nick replied.
“No, but seriously. You could probably find something to entertain yourself in there,” Kevin said.
Nick shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe. I’ll go check it out later.”
Kevin grinned. “Good. You should do that. So you won’t have to worry about Death by Dora anymore.”
“Dork.”
Kevin just stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes in response.
“So how was your day at college?” Nick asked, switching the subject over to Kevin instead of himself and his hospital stay.
“It was fine,” Kevin replied. “I just got assigned a huge project for my psych class though.”
“Oh,” Nick said, trying not to sound too disappointed. “Do you need to go work on that? I’ll be fine here if you do.”
Kevin ruffled Nick’s curls. “Nah. It’s not due for a few weeks, I think I can spare some time to visit you and save you from boredom while Mom and Dad are at work.”
“Well, thanks,” Nick said, smoothing his hair back into place.
“So how about you?” Kevin asked. “Are you gonna have a ton of make-up work to do?”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t know yet. I asked Mom to stop by the school on her lunch break to see if they’ll put together a packet.”
Kevin chuckled. “I should have known you’d be on top of things,” he said fondly.
Nick blushed again and looked at his lap, where he started to pick at the hospital blanket. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I didn’t want to fall behind just because I was in the hospital for a few days.”
“You know,” Kevin commented, “most people would love to have a chance to take a break from school.”
Nick scowled. “Yeah, well I’m not most people. And I don’t need a break from school. A break from school is the last thing I need, actually.”
Kevin sighed. “Why are you so hellbent on graduating early, anyway? You’ve been saying you wanted to all year, but I’ve never heard you talk about your plans for after you graduate.”
“You’re not home that much,” Nick replied. “For all you know, I talk about my future plans all the time.”
Kevin shifted closer to him on the bed. “Do you wish that I was home more often?”
Nick shook his head vehemently. “No! I mean,” he added quickly, “it would be great to see you more, Kev. But I’m not like, having withdrawals or anything. Besides, this is your third year of college, I think I’m used to you being gone by now.” Nick flashed him a smirk. “Mom and Dad might say different though. If anything, they wish you were home more often.”
Kevin groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Dad actually gave me a lecture about how bad drinking is last night. I’m twenty-one and in college, of course I drink. I’m just not stupid about it like some of the people in my class.”
Nick suddenly became very interested in his hands again. He actually sort of agreed with their dad-but that might have had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t just go out and drink however much he wanted whenever he wanted or else it would be bad.
“And,” Kevin went on obliviously, “then he started lecturing me about my piercings, again. I don’t see why, there are so many things I could do that would be much worse than a few holes in my ears.”
Nick glanced at Kevin’s earrings. They really weren’t that bad, and they suited him. There was a ring in each earlobe and one in his right cartilage-and one in his left...inside-ear-thing? “Is that one new?” Nick asked, pointing to Kevin’s left ear.
“Hmm? Oh, the tragus piercing? Yeah, I just got it done a couple months ago,” Kevin replied. “In January, a couple days after I went back to college from Christmas break.”
“It looks good,” Nick said honestly.
“Thanks. Too bad Dad doesn’t agree and flipped out when he saw it.” Kevin sighed. “I don’t understand what his issue is. The piercings aren’t that big a deal, and it’s not like I get in trouble. My grades are good, I’m majoring in business like he wanted...” Kevin suddenly grinned. “Oh, did I tell you? I officially added that history minor I wanted, and a music minor.”
Nick smiled back. “That’s great, Kev.”
Kevin nodded happily. “Yeah. I kind of wish I’d majored in history instead, but I didn’t realize how much I’d like it until last semester. I’m gonna have to cram everything in to fit it as a minor as it is.” He shrugged. “I bet you’ve got your major and everything all planned out in advance though, huh?”
By his tone of voice and the teasing smile lurking in the corners of his mouth, it was obvious that Kevin was joking, but Nick ducked his head. “Um, I was thinking a double major in English and music?”
“Seriously?” Kevin asked. “Nick, you’re only a sophomore.”
Nick shrugged defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.”
“Well, no, I guess not.” Kevin replied. “But Nick-”
Nick was saved from Kevin’s next words by a perfunctory knock on the door before the day nurse entered the room.
“Hi, Nick,” she greeted him. “And you’re Nick’s brother, right?”
Kevin nodded as he stood up from the bed to get out of her way. “Kevin.”
“Well, hello Kevin. Nick, you know the drill by now, right?”
Nick nodded. Check his vitals, check his blood sugar-it was all routine by that point, three days into his hospital stay.
“Everything looks good,” the nurse said a few minutes later as she finished what she was doing. “All your vitals are normal, and your blood sugar is 110. I’ll be back in an hour or two. Is there anything you need before I go?”
Nick shook his head. “I think I’m all set, thanks.”
When she’d left, Kevin sat back down and smiled. “Well, it sounds like everything is on track. Guess you will be going home soon.”
“Not soon enough,” Nick grumbled.
Kevin laughed. “At least you’ll have Dora to keep you company.”
“Ugh, shut up,” Nick groaned. “There was nothing else on, seriously. Have you ever tried to watch TV at one pm on a Monday? Everything sucks unless you’re a little kid or a housewife.”
“So naturally you’re forced to pick Dora the Explorer.”
Nick nodded seriously. “Exactly. I had no other choice. It was Dora or being bored to death.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Kevin replied. He stood and stretched, then checked the clock on the wall above Nick’s bed. “Hey Nick, if you’re okay, I think I’m gonna get going. I’ve got a class this afternoon that I should get back for.”
“Yeah man, I’ll be fine here. Thanks for coming home last night and using your free morning to visit me.”
“Of course,” Kevin said. He leaned down and gave Nick a quick hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He pulled back and headed out the door, pausing to wave from the doorway.
Nick sighed and flopped back into the pillows once Kevin was gone. Well, that hour had passed quickly, but what was he going to do for the rest of the day? He could always go down to the playroom and see if Kevin was right and they did have stuff that wasn’t just for little kids-he supposed it would make sense, since even teenagers got put in the pediatric ward. And even if not, at least walking down and back would kill five minutes or so. Nick sat up again and reached for the button to call the nurse. He felt kind of bad about it, since she’d just been in there, but well, it was her job.
Only a few moments later, the nurse came back into his room. “Did you need something, Nick?”
“I was wondering if it’d be okay if I went down to the, um, playroom?” Nick asked, involuntarily wrinkling his nose at end of the question.
The nurse chuckled. “I know, it sounds a little silly saying that when you’re not really going to ‘play’ per se. But of course you can. I’ll get someone to walk you down.”
“I can go by myself,” Nick protested. “I know where it is. And I can walk, it’s not like I need a wheelchair or anything.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Nick nodded. “Positive. I just go down to the end of the hall, turn right, and it’s at the end of that hall. Right?”
It was the nurse’s turn to nod. “I guess you do know where it is. Okay, you can head on down. The playroom closes at eight, but you should try to be back here when they bring dinner around so you’ll eat on schedule.”
“I know,” Nick said, trying not to sound annoyed. He knew he had to eat on schedule. Evidence to the contrary aside, he knew how to manage his diabetes. And since it was only two, he doubted he’d still be in the playroom when dinner came around anyway. “Thanks,” he added, hoping he sounded friendlier.
“No problem,” the nurse replied cheerfully before leaving the room.
Nick got off the bed and stretched, then left the room himself. He took his time walking down the two hallways to the playroom, trying not to look into other people’s rooms but also enjoying the chance to stretch his legs, since he’d mostly been cooped up in the same room for three days with only occasional excursions to get blood drawn-and then he’d been pushed in a wheelchair, something about hospital policy. And okay, maybe he couldn’t have gotten there himself on that first day, but that was beside the point.
When Nick arrived at the playroom, he peered inside cautiously. There were ten or so kids already there, the youngest probably four and the oldest maybe twelve or thirteen. Four of the older kids sat at a table, immersed in a game of Monopoly, while a pair of the youngest sat coloring at an adjacent table. The rest of the kids were scattered throughout the room absorbed in books or dolls or cars by themselves.
Nick moved into the room, intending to try to find a book to read and maybe bring back to his room with him. But he was distracted when he caught sight of the small upright piano in the back corner.
“Hi there,” someone said, and Nick pulled his attention away from the instrument to the dark-haired guy in front of him. He couldn’t have been much older than Nick himself was, so Nick guessed he was a volunteer. A glance at his ID badge confirmed it.
“Hi,” Nick replied. “Uh, I was wondering, are we allowed to play that piano, or is it just for like, special occasions or something?”
The guy shrugged. “Well, that depends. Can you play?”
Nick nodded. “I’ve been taking lessons since I was a kid.”
He grinned. “Then go for it. We just don’t want kids banging on it if they don’t know what they’re doing, you know?”
Nick nodded again. “Yeah, I completely understand.” He gave the guy a small smile, then moved to the piano bench. He sat down and stared at the keys in front of him, wiggling his fingers slightly as he tried to decide what to play first.
He lowered his hands to the keys.
Joe Jonas lifted his hand from the little jar of makeup and brought it to his face.
He started with his forehead, painting a white streak across his skin. From there, he dipped the fingers of his other hand back into the jar and drew both hands down his cheeks. Then he began to rub in the thick lines he'd just drawn, spreading the white around and covering the skin of his face completely, swiping more makeup from the jar every so often.
Joe dipped his fingers into the makeup in the jar one last time to make sure he'd have enough to cover everything, including his ears and his neck. Satisfied that not even a hint of his tan skin could be seen behind the white makeup, Joe wiped his hands on a cloth and replaced the lid on the jar. Then he leaned in close to the mirror to make sure the makeup was evenly applied.
Joe smoothed out a few lines around his brown eyes, then picked up a cotton swab and wiped away the makeup covering his lower lip, as well as two circles at the corners of his mouth. He threw away the cotton swab and then picked up the powder. He closed his eyes and patted the powder all over his face to set the makeup. When he was finished, he picked up a brush and dusted off the excess powder.
Next, Joe picked up a stick of black greasepaint. He expertly lined his upper and lower eyelids, finishing with two extended wings at the outer corners. Then he drew two high-arching, thin-lined eyebrows above his natural eyebrows. Joe replaced the cover on the stick of makeup and put it back down to pick up a tube of mascara. He applied two coats of mascara to his already long and thick eyelashes, then picked up a second tube and added a coat of glitter mascara. He set both tubes of mascara aside, closed his eyes, and powdered again.
Joe unscrewed the lid of another container of greasepaint, red this time. He dipped a small brush into it and filled in his lower lip, extending the color just below it, then filled in the two circles he'd cleared before. When he was satisfied, Joe replaced the lid, made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and powdered a third time.
Joe dusted his face of excess powder, then picked up a little compact of purple eyeshadow. He applied it lightly to his eyelids, so there was just a hint of purple around his eyes. He put the eyeshadow away and picked up a compact of blush. He brushed two circles high on his cheekbones before setting the blush aside and powdering his entire face one final time.
Joe dusted away the extra powder again, then stood up from the vanity and made his way down to the bathroom. He rinsed his face quickly to get off all of the extra powder and patted it dry.
Joe looked up at his reflection in the mirror over the sink and pulled a ridiculous face at himself, baring his teeth in an exaggerated grin, flaring his nostrils and widening and crossing his eyes. He snorted at his antics, adjusted the headband holding his dark curly hair away from his face, and left the bathroom to return to his bedroom.
Once there, Joe stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt. Clad only in his boxers, he opened his closet door and reached all the way to the right. He pulled out a purple one-piece suit with yellow ruffles at the wrists, ankles and collar and three yellow puff balls in a line down the center over a lime green sort of shirtfront, edged in more yellow ruffles. Joe laid the outfit across the bed before he ducked back into the closet, this time pulling out a pair of oversized black shoes and an undersized black top hat with a lime green band that matched the front of his outfit.
Joe pulled a pair of white stockings and a pair of white gloves from the inside of the shoes. He put the stockings on his feet and the gloves on his hands, and then unzipped the back of the suit and stepped into it. He put his arms through the sleeves, then reached behind himself to zip it up. He returned to the closet a final time, retrieving a longish curly yellow wig. He put the wig on his head and secured it with bobby pins, then arranged the tiny top hat on the wig, securing it with bobby pins as well.
Finally, Joe picked up a small bottle of adhesive and took off the cap. He reached for a small false nose on the vanity and painted the inside with the adhesive. He replaced the cap on the bottle and pressed the red plastic to the tip of his nose, holding it a moment and allowing it to bond. At last, he lowered his hand and surveyed himself in the mirror.
Jojo the Clown stared back at him, and Joe nodded in satisfaction as he made a few small last adjustments to his wig. “Lookin’ good,” he told his reflection, and gave a thumbs up. Then he laughed aloud at himself and his own cheesiness.
Joe slipped his feet into a pair of sandals and picked up his shoes before making his way out of his bedroom and to the kitchen. He grabbed a plastic shopping bag from a drawer with his free hand and shoved it in one pocket, then grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard and held it between his teeth as he snagged his wallet and keys from the counter and shoved them in his other pocket. Then he headed out the door and down the hall to the stairs.
Joe loved having his own space, but one of the reasons he was able to afford it was that the building didn't have an elevator and his apartment was on the top floor. When Joe was in a good mood, he'd just shrug and figure that going up and down four flights of stairs sometimes several times a day was a decent substitute for the gym membership he couldn't afford.
Of course, when he was in a bad mood, it was an entirely different story.
Fortunately, today wasn’t one of those days, and Joe barreled down the stairs, taking them three at a time as he tried to figure out how to unwrap his granola bar with only one hand. When he reached the ground floor, he paused at the door to open his granola bar with the aid of his teeth. He shouldered the door open, tossed the wrapper in the trashcan on the street in front of the apartment building, and began the walk to the corner of the street and the bus stop, munching on his granola bar as he went.
A little girl and her mother were already seated on the bench waiting, and as Joe approached, he heard the little girl squeal, “Look Mommy, a clown!”
Jojo grinned and waved at her. “Hi! My name’s Jojo,” he said as he sat at the other end of the bench.
“I’m Sarah! Are you gonna ride on the bus too?” the girl asked.
Jojo nodded. “I sure am!”
Sarah looked at him, then asked, “I thought clowns rode in little cars? And aren’t they supposed to have big feet? Your feet are normal, just your shoes are big.”
Sarah’s mother gave the clown an apologetic look, but Jojo just smiled. “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked Sarah. Her eyes lit up, and she seemed to forget her earlier suspicion as she nodded vigorously. Jojo leaned closer and stage whispered to her, “I was adopted by a family of clowns when I was a baby, so that’s why my feet are just normal sized. But I wear big shoes so that people don’t make fun of me.”
“You’re not supposed to make fun of people, it’s not nice!” Sarah exclaimed, looking scandalized. “I learned that at preschool.”
Jojo nodded solemnly. “I know. But some people aren’t as smart as you and me.”
Sarah looked thoughtful. Then she asked, “How come you aren’t wearing your big shoes right now?”
“It’s kind of hard to walk in them sometimes,” Jojo confessed. “I didn’t want to trip on the bus.”
“How come you don’t just take your car?”
Inwardly, Joe snorted. Yeah right, what car? But outwardly, Jojo remained cheerful. “My car is at the clown mechanic’s today. So I get to ride the bus instead!”
Sarah bounced a little. “It’s fun to ride the bus sometimes. We’re going grocery shopping. Where are you going?”
“I’m going to the hospital to visit the sick kids there,” Jojo explained.
Sarah nodded, then her eyes widened as she pointed down the road. “Look Mommy, look Jojo, the bus is coming!”
“Oooh, yay!” Jojo replied.
The girl hopped off her seat and bounced on her toes, waiting impatiently as her mother also got to her feet. Then she all but dragged her over to the now-stopped bus.
Jojo followed at a more sedate pace, pulling his bus pass out of his wallet as he did so. He waited while the woman fed change into the machine at the front of the bus, and then he swiped his card through the reader on top. He made his way to a free seat at the back of the bus, waving to the little girl as he passed her. She giggled and waved back.
Saraj and her mother got off the bus three stops later. As the girl skipped down the aisle, she paused, turned around, and waved. "Bye Jojo!" she said loudly, and Jojo grinned and waved back.
Joe's own stop was the next one, and after disembarking from the bus, he paused outside the hospital to slip his feet out of his sandals and into his clown shoes, stowing his sandals in the plastic bag he’d brought along. He walked through the main entrance, waved to the receptionist, and continued over to the elevators. Once inside, he pressed the button for the seventh floor-pediatric wing.
He was joined in the elevator by a family with a boy about eight. He looked up at Jojo shyly through his eyelashes.
"Hi," Jojo said. "I'm Jojo, what's your name?"
"Billy," the boy said shyly.
"Hi Billy," Jojo said, crouching down. "Are you visiting someone in the hospital?"
Billy nodded. "My grandmother. She had a stroke."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Billy. I hope she gets better soon."
"Thanks," Billy said, as the elevator dinged and he and his family got out on the fourth floor-ICU.
When the doors had slid shut behind the family, Joe slumped against the wall and sighed. He loved kids, and he loved what he did, but some times were a little harder than others to keep a smile on his face. Especially around little boys that age, they reminded him too much of what could have been.
The elevator doors opened with another ding on Joe's floor, and he stepped out and headed down the hall to the reception area.
"Hi Maria," he greeted the receptionist, and she smiled at him.
"Hi Jojo," she said. "you can go ahead and sign in.". She pushed a clipboard across the desk to him. Jojo filled out the necessary information, as he did every Wednesday, and gave the clipboard back. He accepted the visitor's badge she gave him in return and clipped it to his pocket. Finally, she handed him a list of room numbers of kids who were too sick to go to the playroom. Jojo took it with a grin and a “Thanks,” then took off down the hall, studying the list as he went.
He peeked his head into each room on the list. In the rooms where the kids were sleeping, Joe just gave the tired parents a smile and carefully retreated. But in the rooms where the kids were awake, Jojo stepped fully inside the room and talked to the kids for a minute or two, just enough to get them to laugh or smile. By the time he’d hit every room on the list, half an hour had passed, and he headed down to the playroom.
A large number of kids sat on the floor, in chairs and in wheelchairs at the front of the room, chattering amongst themselves and obviously waiting for him. At the back of the room, a few more kids sat reading books, working on puzzles and in one case, playing the piano. They all looked up when Jojo entered though, as a hush fell over the kids grouped in the front.
“Hi guys!” Jojo said brightly, setting his bag against the wall behind him. “My name’s Jojo. I thought I’d come hang out with you guys today, maybe tell you some stories. If you don’t want to listen, it’s okay, you can keep playing.” A couple of the kids at the back returned to their books. The older boy at the piano looked back at it for a moment, before sighing and returning his attention to the clown. Joe caught his eye and gave him a tiny nod, indicating that it’d be all right if he kept playing.
The guy brightened and immediately began playing again, although it sounded like something different from what he’d been playing before, something that became more background music than anything else.
“Well,” Jojo said to the rest of the kids, pulling his attention away from the guy at the piano, “We should get started, huh?”
The kids all nodded vigorously, so Jojo launched into his usual routine, reciting kids’ poems in funny voices and with outrageous hand gestures. As he got to the third or fourth poem, this particular one by Jack Prelutsky, he realized that it sounded like the guy on the piano was actually changing his playing to match the tone of the poem and Jojo’s recitation of it.
Wanting to see if he was right, Joe switched up his routine and busted out with a poem he usually only used around Halloween.
“Double, double toil and trouble;/Fire burn and cauldron bubble,” he began, and the kid at the piano immediately started playing the Twilight Zone theme song.
Joe grinned in delight, and finished up the Shakespeare piece, trying to put more of a silly spin than a spooky spin on it, since it really was nowhere near Halloween. When he finished and moved on to the next poem, he made an effort to be even more silly and exaggerated in his recitation, giving the guy more room to be more exaggerated in his playing.
Finally, with a glance at the clock, Jojo announced, “Okay, last one kids, and then I’ve got to go. This one is called ‘The Toucan’, by Shel Silverstein.” Then he launched into the poem.
Instead of simply reciting as he’d done before, though, Jojo sped up the tongue twister of a poem until he was practically rapping it. The guy on the piano caught on quickly enough, hitting a chord every three lines at the rhyme.
When Jojo finished, he took an exaggerated bow to enthusiastic applause. “Thanks everyone. And let’s get a hand for-” here he paused and looked at the guy on the piano.
“Nick,” he mumbled, turning red as all the younger kids swiveled around to look at him.
“For Nick,” Jojo continued, “on the piano!”
The kids all applauded again, and Jojo turned to reclaim the bag his sandals were in. When he straightened up again, he was surrounded by kids all clamoring for his attention. As he tried to say something to each of them, he noticed Nick slip by the crowd and out the door.
Joe cursed inwardly to himself. He’d wanted to catch him and say thanks for joining in on his act. Now he’d either have to forget it, or go hunt him down in his room.
Another glance at the clock, and Jojo gently pulled himself away from the kids. “Sorry guys, I’ve really gotta go! I’m glad you had fun though!”
He slipped out the door and wondered if he had time to find Nick before he had to get down to the bus stop to make the next bus home. Catching sight of a nurse making her rounds, he decided that he did, and he quickly stopped her.
“Hey, could you tell me which room Nick is in? He really helped me out with the kids, and I just wanted to say thanks.”
The nurse nodded. “Sure, he’s in room 727, down the next hall.”
“Thanks,” Jojo said, before hurrying off in the direction she’d indicated. When he started to get close, Joe slowed down, reading the numbers on the doors. 731...729...727.
Joe rapped his knuckles on the door frame and peeked his head in. “Nick?” he asked.
Nick looked up, apparently startled. “Uh, yeah?”
“Hey, I just wanted to say thank you. Your playing definitely improved my act.”
Nick shrugged. “Well, I’m sure the kids would have enjoyed it either way. I hope I wasn’t stepping on your toes or anything.”
Jojo shook his head. “Definitely not. Not even with these huge feet.”
Nick snorted at the terrible joke, but couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Well, you’re welcome.”
Jojo smiled brightly, then caught sight of the clock in Nick’s room. “Fuck!” Joe blurted aloud, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Uh, I mean-”
Nick just smirked. “Running a little late?”
“You could say that,” Joe muttered. “Thanks again Nick, see you!” With that, he dashed out of Nick’s room and down to the elevators, making it in just before the doors closed. He grinned quickly at the other occupants of the elevator, and send a brief thanks zinging skyward as no one else got on between the seventh and main floors to slow its descent. He walked quickly across the lobby and out the front doors, breaking into a full sprint once he hit the pavement.
Joe reached the bus just as the last passenger was climbing the steps, and he panted for a moment as he fumbled around for his wallet and bus pass. He swiped the card, then made his way to the back.
It was late afternoon by now, and the bus was mostly empty, it not being quite late enough for the after-work commuters. The four stops between the hospital and the end of Joe’s street were uneventful, and Joe smiled and thanked the driver as he descended the steps.
Joe toed his clown shoes off, scooping them up and unceremoniously dumping his sandals on the ground. He slid his feet into them and set off towards his apartment, swinging the oversized shoes absentmindedly.
Once Joe had made the trek back up the stairs and kicked off his sandals, he rummaged around in the fridge and pulled out a plastic-wrapped plate of leftover spaghetti. He removed the plastic and stuck the plate in the microwave, before setting it for two minutes. Then he continued through the apartment into his room, where he unzipped his outfit and carefully stepped out of it, hanging it back up neatly. He stripped off his gloves and stockings, tucking them into his shoes before lining his shoes up neatly on the floor of the closet. Finally, he unpinned his hat from his wig and the wig from his hair, setting both on the closet shelf. Then he pulled off his boxers and headed down to the bathroom naked.
In the bathroom, Joe set the shower going, then opened the cabinet. He pulled out makeup remover and a facecloth and began wiping away his Jojo makeup. When the majority of the makeup was on the cloth and no longer on his face, Joe pulled the headband from his hair and stepped into the shower, sighing softly as the hot water poured over his back. He washed his face again, this time with soap, and then quickly washed the rest of his body and hair. Finally, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying himself quickly and wrapping the towel around his waist. He returned to the cabinet and retrieved his moisturizer before applying it to his face. Finally, Joe went back to the kitchen and hit the “add 30 secs” button on the microwave.
He grimaced at the feeling of the lotion still clinging to his hands and washed them at the kitchen sink, drying them on the towel still hanging from his hips. He finished just as the microwave timer went off, and he took his pasta out, grabbing a fork on his way by, then sat down at the small table. Joe twirled his fork around in the pasta and took a bite.
Nick shoved the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and stood up, still chewing, as the bell rang. The librarian glanced over at him as he hurriedly crammed his books back in his backpack and took off for his next class. Even though he’d gotten a packet of work he’d missed from the beginning of the week, he still had work from Wednesday and Thursday to do, plus some stuff teachers had forgotten to send from Monday and Tuesday, and Nick just really wanted to get it done and over with, so he’d taken his lunch to the library to work on it. He was almost done, and wouldn’t even have much extra to do over the weekend.
Nick made his way to his next class, arriving nearly last and sliding into his empty seat at the front next to Dylan Sprouse. He pulled out his binder and took a small stack of papers from the inside pocket. Nick straightened the pile and set it neatly at the corner of his desk before pulling out his textbook and a pen. Then he sat quietly and waited for the teacher to come in.
She entered after only a few moments and began her lesson. Nick paid attention and took notes diligently, although in the back of his mind he couldn't help wishing that he could just doodle in his notebook and daydream during the lesson like everyone else-history was boring and Nick didn't understand what Kevin saw in it. Soon enough, however, the eighty minutes had passed, and Nick packed up his stuff slowly and hung back after everyone else had rushed out of the room.
"Here's the work I missed when I was out," Nick said to his teacher, handing her the neat stack of papers he'd set aside earlier.
She took it, looking surprised. "Thanks, Nick. I didn't expect this until Monday at the earliest."
Nick shrugged. "I just didn't want to be too far behind.". He shouldered his bag and headed to the door.
"Have a good weekend!"
"You too," Nick called over his shoulder, already outside the classroom. He navigated his way through the crowded halls and stopped beside his locker. Running through a mental checklist of the classes he still had to do work for, Nick piled books out of his locker and into his bag, and was ridiculously pleased when he realized he could even put a couple back into his locker from his bag instead.
Nick slammed his locker shut and hefted his bag up onto his shoulder again. He followed the rushing tide of students towards the exit and down the front steps of the school. He started the short walk home, but partway into it, Nick decided that he deserved to reward his hard work that week by stopping at Starbucks, and he took a left at the next intersection instead of the right that would bring him home.
By the time Nick pushed open the door to the coffee shop, he was regretting his decision to go. He didn't deserve a reward at all, since it was his own fault he had to work so hard in the first place. But since he was already at Starbucks, it would be pointless to leave.
The cafe was mostly empty, only a pair of college-age girls sharing a table in the corner and a barista wiping down the counter. Nick frowned slightly as he approached, trying to figure out why the barista looked so familiar. He was about Nick’s height, maybe a little taller, with a mop of loose dark brown curls and big brown eyes. Nick couldn’t remember ever seeing him before in his life, and yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had somewhere.
The barista looked up and noticed Nick then, and he frowned slightly before plastering on a typical customer service smile. “Hi, what can I get for you today?”
Nonplussed by the guy’s reaction to seeing him, and still not knowing where he’d seen him before even after reading his nametag, Nick gave his usual warm-weather Starbucks order. “Could I get a grande iced latte please?”
The barista nodded. “Sure, is that it?” At Nick’s nod, he added, “And your name?”
“Nick,” Nick answered, and started digging out his wallet.
But instead of telling Nick his total, the barista completely ignored the register. Instead, his eyes lit up, and he gave Nick a real smile. “Oh, Nick, hi! I was wondering why you looked so familiar.”
“Uh...I was kind of thinking the same thing about you, but I’m still wondering,” Nick admitted.
The barista chuckled. “Sorry, last time we met I was wearing makeup and really big shoes.”
Nick frowned for a minute before realizing. “You’re the clown from the hospital.”
“Joe Jonas,” the barista introduced himself. “Oh, and uh, that’s $3.38 for the coffee.”
Nick handed over a five dollar bill. “I’m Nick Miller. But you knew that.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Nick Miller,” Joe replied, giving Nick his change. “I’m glad to see that you’re out of the hospital now.”
“Yeah, it’s good to be out of the hospital. I’ll be all set as long as I don’t put myself back in it again.”
Joe cocked his head as he started making Nick’s drink. “What do you mean?”
“I...nothing, never mind,” Nick said hastily. “Anyway, I should let you get back to work.”
Joe shook his head. “Nah, we’re not busy. I have time to chat if you do.”
“No, really, I should go. I mean, you don’t even know me.” Nick felt his face heating up. Why had he even said anything?
In response, Joe took a step back and stuck his head through the door marked ‘Employees Only.’ “Demi, I’m taking my break now!” he yelled, and Nick heard a female voice yell back, “Okay, I’ll be right out!”
Joe turned to face Nick again and grinned. “There, see, the next fifteen minutes of my life are all yours.” He pushed a few buttons on the register, probably logging himself out, and then stepped around the counter, Nick’s coffee in hand. “Come on, let’s sit over here.” He led Nick over to a table in the opposite corner from the girls and sat down, then set the cup at the place across from him. He looked up expectantly, and Nick sat down.
“You really don’t have to-” Nick began, but Joe cut him off.
“I know,” he said simply. “Now, what did you mean when you mentioned putting yourself in the hospital?”
Nick suddenly realized what Joe must have thought he meant. “I didn’t mean on purpose,” he said quickly. “I just-I have diabetes, and if I don’t take care of myself, I can get sick and end up in the hospital, that’s all.”
“Well, it’s not like you can control it all the time. So it’s not really your fault, it’s not ‘putting yourself if the hospital,’ right?” Joe asked.
Nick sighed. “But I should be able to control it, I know how.”
“How long have you had diabetes?” Joe wanted to know.
“Since I was thirteen,” Nick replied. “So, about three and half years now. Long enough that I shouldn’t be ending up in the hospital anymore.”
Joe shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about that. Sometimes you can do everything right and your body just doesn’t cooperate.”
“I guess,” Nick said doubtfully, sipping at his latte. “So, this is your day job, huh? When you’re not moonlighting as a clown?”
Joe laughed. “You could say that,” he agreed. “And I also take classes over at the community college.”
Nick raised his eyebrows. “Wow, sounds like you’re a pretty busy guy.”
Joe shrugged. “Nah, not really. It’s just a job, a few classes, and volunteering once a week. How about you, do you keep busy?”
Nick shook his head. “Not really, I just have school and music lessons. I was thinking of starting a band though.”
“You’re really good,” Joe told him, leaning toward him to emphasize his point.
Nick ducked his head. “Thanks. I also play guitar and sing. And uh, I’m in the process of teaching myself to play the drums too.”
Joe’s eyes widened. “Whoa. And I thought I was doing good being able to play piano.”
“You play piano?”
“Well, I used to. I haven’t since I was a kid, so I’m probably not much good anymore.”
Nick had just opened his mouth to reply when the girl who’d taken over for Joe at the counter-Demi?-yelled across the room, “Joe, quit flirting and get back here!”
Joe blushed and sat back. “I uh, I better get back to work. But it was great talking to you, Nick.”
“You too,” Nick replied. And he meant it; Joe was easy to talk to.
“Would you want to maybe do it some more?” Joe asked. “Like, we could text or something?”
Nick couldn’t help but smile a little at Joe’s awkwardness. “Is that your way of asking for my number?”
“Maybe.”
Nick laughed. “Give me your phone.”
Joe’s face fell. “I don’t have it with me, we’re not supposed to have them while we’re working.”
Nick shrugged as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Then you’ll just have to give me your number instead.” He went into his contacts and added a new one, then offered the phone to Joe.
Joe took it and started typing, just as Demi yelled again, “Joe! Get your cute little ass over here!”
“I’m coming!” Joe called back, pressing a few more buttons and handing the phone back before standing up.
Nick stood as well, glancing down at the phone and seeing that Joe J had been added to his contacts list. “I’ll send you a text so you’ll have my number too,” he told Joe.
Joe smiled. “Great. Talk to you soon, Nick.” He waited for Nick to gather his coffee and school bag and then walked with him across the store, waving when he got to the counter. Nick waved back and then headed out the door.
A few feet down the sidewalk, Nick took out his phone again and opened up a new text. hey its nick, he sent, then put the phone away and headed home, sipping his latte as he went.
When Nick arrived home, he greeted his mother and then headed straight to his room, intending to finish as much as possible of his remaining work before dinner. He sat down at his desk and opened up his backpack, pulling out the first textbook and lifting the top of his laptop with a sigh.
He was committed to graduating early, but sometimes he wished he had more free time. Getting started on his real life, the life that would come after high school and after college, as soon as possible was important to him, and he wanted to prove that he could do it. But sometimes, a little time to breathe would be good too.
An IM window popped up and interrupted Nick’s musings, and his research. He sighed and started typing a reply to Kevin’s hello.
-
Nearly three hours later, Nick put down his pen and stretched his arms above his head, feeling and hearing his back give a satisfying crack. He was nearly done with everything and only had to read a few chapters of a book for English before he’d be completely caught up.
“Nick!” his mother Denise called. “Dinner’s ready!”
“Perfect timing,” Nick said to himself then headed down to the kitchen.
Both his parents were already there, and Nick slid into his seat quickly, taking each of their hands as his father said grace. Then they all began to serve themselves from the dishes on the table.
Nick had just plopped some mashed potatoes on his plate when Denise asked, “So how was school today?”
Nick shrugged, putting the serving spoon back in the bowl. “It was okay. I’m almost all caught up on what I missed from the rest of the week.”
“Already?” Denise asked, sounding impressed. “That’s great, Nick.”
Nick swallowed his bite of salad, then said, “It’s not a big deal. I just thought, you know, I’m responsible for the work I missed and I should get it done as soon as possible.”
“I’m glad to see you being responsible again,” Nick’s father, Kevin Sr., said, and Nick looked down at his plate, face heating up.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, before shoving potatoes in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to say anything else.
Denise turned to her husband. “And how was your day, dear?”
Kevin started talking about his work, and Nick tuned him out, thoughts turning instead to his hospital stay and everything he should have done to prevent it. However, thoughts of the hospital soon turned to thoughts of Joe, and Nick couldn’t help but hope that they could at least become friends. He knew that was unlikely; Joe was old enough to be in college, and Nick was just a stupid kid. But still, something about the older boy fascinated Nick, and he wanted to know him better.
Nick was jerked from his thoughts by his mother looking at him expectantly, and he realized he’d just been asked a question. “Sorry, what?” he asked.
“I just asked if you felt okay, honey,” Denise said, the beginnings of worry appearing around her eyes.
Nick nodded quickly. “No, I’m fine, I’m just tired.” He scooped the last bite of his dinner onto his fork, chewed, then said, “I’m done. Do you need any help in the kitchen?”
His mother shook her head. “Just rinse your plate and put in the sink, please. Then you can be excused.”
Nick did as she asked, then headed up to his room. He opened his door just in time to see his phone vibrate itself right off the edge of his desk and fall to land on the carpet. Nick sighed and picked it up, his stomach jumping a little when he saw Joe J on the display.
u will never geuss what i saw on my way home 2nite, the message read, and Nick grinned as he slid open the phone to text a reply.
Joe hit send, then slipped his phone back into his pocket as he walked through the front door of Starbucks to begin his shift.
“Ooh, texting Nick again?” Demi teased from the register.
After checking quickly for customers, Joe flipped her off good naturedly. “Shut up.”
Demi followed him to the back, watching him exchange his jacket for an apron. “You don’t even have to answer me, it’s obvious that you were.”
“I could have been texting my mom or something for all you know,” Joe retorted as he clocked in.
Demi shrugged. “You could have been, but you weren’t. You don’t get a goofy smile on your face when you text your mom. Or at least I hope you don’t.”
“Gross, Demi,” Joe replied, making a face and stashing his phone and jacket in his locker before heading back out and taking his place at the other register.
“I’m just saying.”
Joe groaned. “Ugh, please shut up. And I do not get a goofy smile on my face when I text Nick. I barely know Nick.” Yes, they’d been exchanging texts every day since they’d met two weeks ago, but the sorts of texts they’d been exchanging weren’t anything very soul searching. They were mostly just little observations about their days, anything quirky or odd that they thought the other might be amused by.
“Doesn’t matter,” Demi said firmly. “You totally have a crush on him. Not that I blame you,” she added speculatively. “He’s pretty cute.”
“I do not.” Joe stuck his tongue out at her.
Demi looked unimpressed. “Uh-huh, very mature,” she commented. “You should ask him to hang out. It wouldn’t be a date,” she added before Joe could say anything, rolling her eyes. “But then you’d know him better.”
“Maybe,” Joe said, hoping that Demi would get the hint and shut up about it.
Thankfully, she did. The rest of Joe’s shift passed by uneventfully (although that may have had something to do with the fact that Demi’s shift ended an hour after Joe’s began) and soon enough, Joe was pulling off his apron and clocking out. He retrieved his jacket and phone, then headed out.
As soon as Joe got to the bus stop, he pulled out his phone to text Nick. He found a text and a voicemail already there, the hours-old text from Nick saying ok ttyl in response to the i gotta go, work Joe had sent, and the minutes-old voicemail from his mother, “just checking in.” Joe hit 7 to erase the message, making a mental note to call his parents later, before opening up a new text.
so i was wondering, would u wanna hang out sometime?
The reply was almost immediate, as Nick’s replies usually were, unless Joe texted him while he was at school. yeah, definately
cool, when? Joe hit send, then climbed onto the bus that had just arrived. By the time he’d swiped his card and found a seat near the front, Nick had texted back again.
r u free tomorrow?
Joe considered it. He didn’t have to work at Starbucks the next day and it was Sunday so he didn’t have class either. i am all yours.
i think slavery is illegal. maybe i’ll just borrow u for a little while. i have church in the am. wanna meet up for lunch?
sure. meet me @ the park? does noon work? Joe asked, as the bus drove by the aforementioned park.
noon at the park absolutely works. see u tomorrow!
see u! Joe put his phone in his pocket and started mentally planning what he and Nick could do the next day, and the bus pulled to a halt at his stop and he got off.
Joe made his usual four-flight climb up to his apartment, toed off his shoes, and tossed his phone, wallet and keys on the counter. Then he went into his room, changing his work pants for jeans and taking his work shirt off, leaving him in just a black undershirt. He meandered back out and flipped on the TV, hit the button on the DVD player, grabbed his phone from the counter, and flopped down on the ancient loveseat in front of the TV, folding his legs underneath himself Indian style. He waited for the DVD to go through its title screens, then selected an episode, watching as the beginning of Lost appeared on the screen. Then, since he’d seen the episode like five times already (the perils of having no cable and only so many DVDs), Joe figured he might as well call his mother.
The DVD menu was playing again by the time Joe hung up with her, his mom having talked through two whole episodes and then some. She’d wanted to fill him in on the latest gossip from town, and then to hear everything about his life. Sometimes Joe regretted that he’d opted for the SmartTalk phone with the unlimited everything card. Another monthly bill to worry about might have had its advantages when it came time to get off the phone with Mom. But then he felt bad for thinking it. He understood that she missed him, he did, especially since he’d moved so far away and everything else.
Joe sighed and turned off the DVD player with the remote. He’d only been half-watching the two episodes, but it didn’t matter since he’d seen them before. He stood up and stretched, then turned off the TV too. He made his way over to the fridge and looked inside for dinner possibilities.
There wasn’t much inside; he needed to go shopping again soon. He eyed a package of deli turkey, then decided against it. Turkey sandwiches were better suited for a picnic than dinner alone inside. Joe opened the freezer instead, and pulled out a package of chicken breasts. He stuck it in the microwave to defrost, wishing he’d thought to take it out that morning instead. Then, struck by a sudden thought, Joe opened the refrigerator again. Down in the crisper drawer, there was a full package of baby carrots and a half-full package of strawberries. Joe grinned, then returned to the couch for his phone.
how do u feel about picnics? he sent to Nick.
i don’t have anything against them, Nick’s return message read. r we having one?
if u don’t mind. Joe opened up the microwave and took out the chicken, poking it experimentally before putting it back. His phone vibrated again just as he hit the button to start the microwave for a few more minutes.
a picnic sounds fun. want me to bring anything?
ive got turkey sandwiches, carrots and strawberries. so u can bring something if u want.
we have potato salad, i can bring some of that? and i can pick up some drinks on my way.
that sounds good. thanks.
no problem. so what are u up to?
Joe opened the microwave and poked the chicken again, removing it when he saw that it was no longer a meatsicle. He opened a drawer and pulled out a sharp knife. just making dinner. u? Joe took out one of the breasts and began cutting it up. When he’d finished, and put the other two breasts in a plastic bag in the fridge, he had another message from Nick.
doing hw.
on saturday?!
if i do it today i don’t have to worry about it tomorrow when we’re picnicing.
o good point. maybe ill do mine tonight 2. i geuss ill let u do that now. see u tomorrow! :o)
Joe poured some oil in a pan and dumped the chicken in, then pulled out a few of the carrots from the fridge and chopped them as well, adding them to the pan. Finally, he checked the freezer again, doing a little victory dance when he found a bag of frozen broccoli florets. He threw a handful into the pan and turned the burner on. Joe then opened the fridge, pulling out a few various sauces and condiments, pouring them into the pan at random. When he had enough sauce for a decent stir-fry, Joe put everything back, then grabbed a spatula and stirred the contents of the pan, flipping the chicken and vegetables and mixing the sauces together. He swiped his finger along the edge of the spatula and sucked it into his mouth, pleasantly surprised when it actually tasted pretty good.
Joe left the stir-fry to cook a little bit, and filled up another pan with water, setting on the stove and turning that burner on as well. Then he rummaged around in the cupboard and came up with his last boil-in-bag rice packet. He sighed and added rice to his mental shopping list, wishing he could make rice the normal way and save a couple dollars. But after a few utter disasters with attempting to cook it, Joe had realized that maybe bags of rice were only sixty-eight cents, but the boil-in-bag kind would actually make it to his plate.
Soon, the water was boiling and the chicken was all white, rather than pink. Joe put the rice in and set the timer for ten minutes, then turned the heat all the way down on the stir-fry and covered the pan. He searched around in the backpack that had been carelessly flung down in one of the extra chairs at the table, and came up with the two articles he was supposed to read for his classes on Monday evening and a pen. He put the readings down at his usual place, then went and filled a glass with water from the tap and put it next to them.
Joe took the cover from the stir-fry and stirred it, scraping the bottom of the pan a little with the plastic spatula where the Teflon was scratched and the food was starting to stick. He snagged a fork from the drawer next to him and stabbed a piece of carrot with it. The carrot was soft enough for the fork to go through, so Joe turned off the heat and stuck the carrot in his mouth. The timer read three minutes, so Joe went to the cupboard and retrieved two bowls.
Joe scooped the stir-fry from the pan into one bowl with the spatula, then put the empty pan in the sink and filled it with water. The timer went off just as he got back to the stove, so Joe turned the heat off the rice burner as well and lifted the rice packet out with the fork. He allowed most of the water to drain off, shook it a little, then set the steaming bag into the second bowl.
Joe ripped open the packet with the aid of the fork, then dumped half the rice in with the stir-fry and the other half in the empty bowl. He stuck the fork in his dinner, then covered the leftover rice with tinfoil and set it in the fridge. He mixed the rice in with the stir-fry and carried the bowl over to the table. Joe uncapped his pen and started to read the first article, underlining and making notes as he went, and every so often clumsily lifting a forkful of food to his mouth with his left hand.
The food had gone lukewarm by the time Joe reached the end of the article, only half-eaten, and he wrinkled his nose as he set the papers aside and focused his full attention on his dinner. He finished in three huge bites, and got up to put his bowl in the sink, still chewing.
Joe debated between reading the other article or doing dishes first, before finally deciding on dishes. There weren’t that many, and it shouldn’t take very long. He moved all the dishes to one side of the sink, before putting the stopper in the newly-empty side and beginning to fill it with water, squeezing in a few drops of soap and watching the bubbles appear on top of the water.
Part Two