(Untitled)

[gonna_live]

Jordie's over for dinner. And it's fun. And he helps, which is best of all; it offsets any strangeness there might be with the whole entertaining people thing. Jordie rides over protests and sets the table; he even dries dishes. And after dinner they all settle into the living room with wine and start to tell stories. Kaylee finds herself telling a

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[walk_ins]

"Because it shouldn't."

He's starting to sound angry.

"Look. I don't even know why I'm bringing this up. Let's pretend I didn't. It's -- what, two in the morning? Three? I call a do-over."

[walk_ins]

"They never liked me. And if I didn't marry her -- and neither of us wanted that, mostly because we knew they'd try to take it over, and she looked terrible in red -- if I didn't marry her, it meant -- "

He forces his voice flat. " -- that I was waiting for the next thing to come along."

[simon_doctor]

Simon opens his mouth, and closes it again.

He's remembering the funeral service, at the Whitakers'. Remembering Jordie outside, down by the lake. Almost as though --

Very low, and very tightly controlled: "They had no right."

[walk_ins]

"And I had no information trail. No joint account. No joint return. Nothing to prove it. You know the rules as well as I do -- no proof, and they can keep you out."

[simon_doctor]

He shakes his head.

"How long did they ...?"

[walk_ins]

"Until I shoved her records under their noses and pointed out the part in her handwriting that said I needed to have access and to make all the decisions."

His voice is low, tight, unhappy. Dark. "They didn't like it."

[simon_doctor]

"No," he murmurs, "I don't imagine they did."

[walk_ins]

"And if we'd even bothered to go through the motions of registering as common-law -- "

Jordie stops, and makes himself take a breath, and let it out.

"Anyway." Far more mild. "I suppose that by their definition I'm proving them right. Just waiting for the next thing to come along."

[simon_doctor]

(A very, very small part of Simon's mind is quietly noting down something about this conversation, to bring to his conscious attention later.)

"You do know that's not true."

He says it steadily, leaning forward into Jordie's peripheral vision.

[walk_ins]

Jordie very slowly turns his head toward Simon.

"If it weren't true," he says, "then I would be able to move past this. And just drink my coffee. Wouldn't I."

[simon_doctor]

"If it were true," Simon counters, "you wouldn't be tearing yourself to pieces over this in the first place."

[walk_ins]

"...that's just a little melodramatic, Tam, don't you think?"

[simon_doctor]

He tilts his head. "Possibly."

A beat.

"Melodramatic and therefore false?"

[walk_ins]

"Of course." Mildly. "Let's presume you'd slept the night through and woken up to find me awake. Would you still say I'm 'tearing myself apart'?"

The airquotes are audible.

[simon_doctor]

"If we hadn't talked about this at all? Probably not." Just as mild. "I'd still be concerned about how little you've been eating lately, and I'd probably still have asked you if you were seeing a psychiatrist yet."

[walk_ins]

Jordie's gaze sharpens. Darkens.

Crisply: "I don't think my dietary habits fall under your jurisdiction."