Dedication Takes a Lifetime

“Stop. Fucking. Fidgeting.” I commanded through gritted teeth as Kal jiggled her leg and tugged at her hair and Deveraux bounced up and down in his seat. They’d been like this for the past hour; it was like having cracked out toddlers.

All four of us were waiting at the terminal for Jack’s plane to land. Jocelyn was leaning against a wall, twirling a drumstick in her hand. I was on the floor, gulping down hot coffee and Advil in an attempt to chase away the migraine left after a shitty day of school and work. Deveraux and Kal were sitting next to each other on matching blue chairs, twitching like nervous idiots.

“Fuck your fancy couch,” Kal cursed me absentmindedly, and I had to laugh. I remembered meeting her, two months back, and how cool and carefree she’d been about walking into a room full of famous musicians. Now she was falling apart at the prospect of seeing Jack Barakat; she had it bad.

“It’s been getting late for days,” a voice boomed from across the terminal, “And I feel myself deserving of a little time off!” We all perked up to see Jack Barakat shimmying his way toward us, belting one of his own songs at the top of his lungs, causing strangers to stop and stare with lifted eyebrows. He didn’t seem to notice. Instead he just sauntered along like no one’s business, looking incredibly cool with his large sunglasses and grey hoodie under a black leather jacket, his duffel bag tossed over his shoulder and his skunk-streaked hair poking out from beneath a Ravens ball cap.

“OmigoditsJackfuckingBarakat!” Before any of us had time to even wave him over, Deveraux had launched himself from his seat and was sprinting across the floor. I don’t know what I thought he was going to do (or what Jack’s reaction would be), but the possibilities did not include Jack dropping all of his things to catch Deveraux as he literally jumped into his arms and wrapped his legs around his waist. Jack, in turn, laughed and twirled the man around and around, like lovers meeting again after years of separation. If it had been anyone else, it would have been awkward and, quite frankly, gay. But with them, it just seemed…natural, I suppose.

“Deveraux, it’s been forever!”

“Fornever,” our bassist corrected, still clinging to the musician like a spider.

Jack smiled wildly, “My turn!” He dropped Deveraux, who almost collapsed due to his horrible coordination, but recovered just in time to catch Jack in his arms, one arm beneath his knees and one beneath his shoulder blades. Giggling like fools, Deveraux carried Jack bridal style all the way back to where we stood, pushing his duffel bag along with his feet.

“Oh, honey,” Jack buried his face into the crook of Deveraux’s neck, putting on a show for that people that had openly stopped to watch, “This is going to be the best honeymoon ever! Can you believe we’re finally hitched?”

Deveraux smiled in return, putting Jack back down on his feet and looking into his eyes, cupping his cheek and playing along smoothly, “These have been the best four years of my life; you have made me so happy.”

“I’m a better man because of you.” Jack looped a hand behind the bassist’s neck and started pulling him in, as if to kiss him. They’re faces were just centimeter’s apart when I finally snapped out of my state of shock and started cracking up. I doubled over, holding my stomach at the dull ache from the laughter. That’s when the two men broke apart, also melting into hysterics.

“Oh, man,” Deveraux clapped Jack on the back, “That was fantastic. Hi,” he said abruptly, sticking out his hand, “We haven’t officially met; I’m Aaron Deveraux.”

Jack shook his hand, “Jack Barakat. Good to finally meet you, honey.” He smiled and took a step past, offering his hand to Jocelyn, “You must be Jocelyn Cheshire; the little firecracker.” She nodded in affirmation, disregarding his hand entirely and going for a hug instead. After Jocelyn, Jack walked over to me, face taking on a serious expression as he got close enough and spoke in a voice so quiet that only I could hear.

“How are we, Miss Vader?”

I knew what he meant. Two days earlier, with the stress of his visit and our first show pushing me through an entire twelve-pack of Bud Lite, he’d been unfortunate to call at the peak of my solemn drunkenness. I’d told him everything, and I do mean everything. From the morning of the concert, to his phone call. Everything about Alex. Everything about Kal and Deveraux and Jocelyn. Everything about my doubts and insecurities. And while initially I’d been humiliated over the impressive example of Word Vomit, it quickly melted away to relief that I’d told him, because he’d turned around on me and calmed my nerves better than anyone ever could. He spoke to me like a big brother, with brutal honesty, but also with encouragement. He made me feel like a weight was lifted from my shoulders.

So now instead of blushing, I smiled at him confidently, “We’re still a little edgy, but much better than before.” He smiled back, happy with this response, and wrapped me in a brotherly bear-hug, which I readily returned.

Once he released me, I elbowed him in the ribs subtly and flicked my eyes to Kal, who’d stood up and was now playing with her fingers, wringing them, flecking away nail polish, pushing at her cuticles. Jack took my meaning with a nervous bite of the lip and made his way over to her.

“Aberman,” he said as casually as he could.

“Barakat,” she responded. They stared at each other for a long time, neither moving or speaking, both with matching serious expressions. Finally, Jack cracked a tiny smile and Kal let out a deep breath, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly, “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Mm, it’s good to see you, too,” he murmured into her hair, eyes closed and a content look stretching across his face. If I wasn’t a cynic, I would go into some long shpeel about “love at first sight” and how these two were “obviously soul mates; destined to be together forever.” But the most I could do was smile and hope that their happiness would last for the duration of his visit.

“Get me out of this place,” Deveraux started singing loudly, leaning down to pick up Jack’s bag and starting toward the airport entrance, “Before I cause more damage.”

Jack finally tore himself away from Kal with a goofy smile and started following our bassist, singing along, equally as loud. “A small price to pay for building houses out of match sticks.”

Us three women waited until they were far enough away before we followed, pretending to be disassociated with their obnoxious behavior. Especially when Jack broke out in a string of what we assumed were meant to be pirouettes, and Deveraux started doing an awkward pelvic thrust in the direction of a group of elderly women.

This was going to be an interesting week-end.

-- -- --

One of the most difficult things I will ever go through in this world, I think, is having to deny Jack Barakat something while he’s staring at me with those Labrador-puppy-chocolate-brown-eyes. If you have or ever do have to accomplish this feat, just close your eyes and think of Brussels sprouts. Or some other vegetable that you hate. That’s the best advice I can offer you.

“Please, please, please,” he pouted. We’d been back at my house for an hour, so it was close to eight o’clock and the others had gone out on a take-out run, leaving Jack and I alone in my kitchen with two beers and his curious personality. He’d asked me to sing, since he’d never heard me before, but I refused.

I bit my lip. Brussels sprouts, Brussels sprouts, Brussels sprouts. “No, Jack,” I told him firmly, “I want it to be a surprise on Saturday, okay?”

He sighed and grumbled, “Fine,” before slumping down in his seat and taking a swig of his beer.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Keep sulking and we won’t be playing any video games this week-end.” He perked up then, instantly wiping away the pout and replacing it with a wide, toothy smile.

“Video games?” I nodded and he started pumping his fists in the air, “Yayyayyayyay! Let’s go!” He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the living room, forcing me to load Guitar Hero: World Tour into my Xbox 360 so we could compete over his favorite songs.

We were in a heated struggle over “Ramblin’ Man” on Expert when the others came back, but we were so dead-set on winning that we didn’t even realize the extra company. “You,” I said as I gritted my teeth in concentration, slamming my fingers against colorful buttons, “Are going…down…Barakat.”

“In your dreams, Darth.” I growled a little and dug my heel into his toe, making him yelp in pain and drop his controller. I finished the game as he tried to pick up the pace again, but it was no use; I won. I whooped and hollered in victory, doing a little dance into the couch cushions as Jack looked on with a little-kid-who-just-lost-a-foot-race face.

“You cheated!”

“Did not.”

“You hit me.”

“My foot slipped.”

“With full-body force into my toe?”

“These things happen.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not, Darth!” And then, “OUCH! See, like that! Exactly like that,” he whined, holding the foot I’d stepped on for the second time. Then, as if we’d rehearsed it, we fell against each other in laughter at the same time.

It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat with a dainty “ahem” that we turned and noticed we were no longer alone. Kal, Deveraux, and Jocelyn stood in the archway that separated the hallway from the living room, along with Tomas, all of them with arms full of various paper bags.

Jack looked up and immediately launched himself from the couch, “Food! Awesome.” He went straight to Kal and moved to take the two bags she was struggling to balance in her arms, offering her a sweet smile, “Here, let me help you with that.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled with a little blush, following him into the kitchen. We all gathered around my kitchen table, catching Jack up on our party plans, including the booze Deveraux planned to bring, the countless fliers Kal and I had handed out at our schools, and the “No Bullshit buddies” Jocelyn was bringing along to act as party security on Saturday. Then we told him what our set-list would be, and all the things we were nervous about.

The entire time, Jack sat still, listening intently and eating a little of everything our friends had brought back with them. Every so often he would offer a helpful comment and then fall silent again, just listening. His goofiness was so dominant that I don’t think any of us would have expected him to be such a good mentor, but our dinner that stretched out to three in the morning proved that he was. And the way that he kept tilting his head to look at Kal from the corner of his eye when she wasn’t looking proved that he was even more than that.

He was a real person.