#SOBSSDFDSFSDF

[alicelillianshaw]

'What did you write about?'

And that sort of shocks Alice out of her sorrow— for a beautiful minute, there's that feeling every writer has when someone shows interest in their work. Even more so because it's fucking Jack asking. She would have explained the paper word by word, if he asked.

And so Alice clears her throat. Scrubs at her cheeks, already straightening in preparation.

"It was— this paper, dissecting societal shifts during the 1800's and comparing them to sociopolitical events of today?" Alice sniffles. "That's such a vague explanation, sorry, but it was really long ... mostly, it was about dominant religions during the industrial revolution in Europe, and the clashes with Neo-Darwinism. And then comparatively, dominant religion during the Digital Revolution, specifically the early 2000s..." A beat, and Alice waves her hand, as if she knew she was explaining poorly. "...And then uh, how religious attitudes at that time influenced our policies and research about nuclear power."

She laughs, breathy and snuffly, grins at Jack as her head continues to shake.

"It sounds boring, and I explained it poorly, but I really loved it. Like —" her lips twitch. "I don't think you were able to see it in the pool, but when I got sober I got a whole tattoo kind of related to what I wrote."

Sort of related. Alice hadn't gotten a tattoo of a nuclear power symbol, at least.

It's funny. She feels ... more calm. Like when sediment settles down at the bottom of a lake and the water clears out. Jacks' doing, once again!

And so her throat feels a little less itchy. Her heart feels a little less wild. And the words he speaks after? It makes Alice look at Jack a bit differently— it makes her stare and scrutinize him, because what the hell!

Where had he been hiding all these words? This gift for writing?

'You made a mistake, but the things that you wrote were sincere when you wrote them. And even if you didn’t mean them when you wrote them — it’s like. Fuck. I don’t know how to explain it. Like, a surgeon does his job. Cuts into people and performs a flawless surgery, even when they’re having a bad day. Without intention. It's just ... what they're good at. What htey do. Even if they make a critical mistake the next day. It doesn’t take away from the work they did the day before, right?'

Her lips quirk. She stares at Jack a bit dreamily, wondering if he knew how he'd effected her. Made her heart ache, in a good way, and charmed her, all at the same time.

And then talking about her parents. Fuck. That makes Alice's lungs strain as she tries to hold herself together.

The emphasis Jack had put when he said they had Alice for a daughter. As if that were something special and good.

That despite all her mistakes, the clinking alcohol bottles on the floor of her room and the slurred assurances and the shaky hands and the thousand and thousands of wasted dollars— Alice was still good.

Still like the little girl who would run through the kitchen door, clutching dusty radishes to her stomach while ranting about her garden bed.

'If there's anyone that's undeserving...'

A line begins to form deep between her brows.

'How are you in my life right now?'

And then that really snaps Alice out of it.

"What does that mean!" she all but cries, clearing her throat with a rough sniffle.

"It's literally the other way around, like I said." Alice inhales, staring at Jack with narrowed eyes, disbelief etched into her features. Did he really believe that? "You invited me into your home when you're going through so much— you trusted me, even though you have absolutely no reason to. Put a lot of faith in me. And on top of that here I am ... just dumping all this on you, telling me all the selfish mistakes I made, and you're being so ... kind about it. Genuinely kind. You're the first person I've told whose been able to make me feel not so ... awful, towards myself, about it. You whip out that surgeon metaphor. You even made me feel better about my dumb crying face."

Alice pauses. She can't help the way she shifts forward on the couch; extends her arm, hand sinking into Jack's hair— a gesture that's half ruffle, half tender- touch.

Her face is back to feeling warm again, even when her hand retracts.

"You can't tell me you don't deserve all the right things."

The harder that Alice cried, the more that Jack wanted to pull her into his arms. How could he make this go away? It wasn’t about Alice crying; it was the fact that she was hurting by remembering all of this. How could he make it so that every drop of suffering from her body was meticulously plucked out? They had to invent something for that, Jack thought. He’d invest his entire portfolio if it existed.

Jack knew that taking away all of one person’s suffering wasn’t good either. Alice became the woman she is now by enduring all of that heartache. It was a strange feeling, and Jack figured that maybe, sometimes you cared about people enough to want them to have a good life even if it means they never would’ve found you.

Jack was at least grateful that he’d been able to make her laugh in the midst of all the tears. Her perfect smile and the sound of her giggle were rewarding. They boosted his dopamine levels through the roof, more than any other drug he’d ever taken.

“What did you write about?” Jack wondered. And how can I read it? He’d conveniently left the second part out. Whatever she’d written, it’d been beautiful enough to earn thousands and thousands of dollars worth of tuition. That was something to be incredibly proud of — even if she had lost it.

“I don’t think you disrespected anything.”

Jack didn’t know how to explain what he felt very well, but he was so sure of it.

“You made a mistake, but the things that you wrote were sincere when you wrote them. And even if you didn’t mean them when you wrote them — it’s like. Fuck. I don’t know how to explain it. Like, a surgeon does his job. Cuts into people and performs a flawless surgery, even when they’re having a bad day. Without intention. It's just ... what they're good at. What htey do. Even if they make a critical mistake the next day. It doesn’t take away from the work they did the day before, right?”

Jack sighed. Maybe that way of thinking took all of the romance out of writing.

“I don’t know if I’m explaining it right. And your parents … I don’t know them, but c’mon. They have you as their daughter. Maybe they were hurting for you at the time, but you weren’t intentionally disrespecting anyone or anything.”

It shocked Jack how easily the words were leaving his mouth. A lot of what he said could easily apply to him, too, but … well. It was much easier giving advice than taking it, right?

“Don’t say you wouldn’t have deserved it because that’s not true.”

"— I don't think those words would have felt the same, hearing it from somebody other than you."

Jack’s heart. It was going to burn up before his very eyes. Did he really matter that much to her already, on the third day? If they were going to talk about undeserving … it was Jack. Technically, he was still married. His wedding ring was upstairs. His wife still had his last name. Jack was also on the verge of having a criminal record and losing his job.

Basically, he was a fucking loser, but Alice was there anyway. Jack swiped at the tears on her face a little more freely now. A casual gesture that he'd done a million times (in his head).

"If there's anyone that's undeserving..." he trailed off, shaking his head, offering a crooked smile. "How are you in my life right now?"