While You Were Pretending

Chapter Two

Standing in line at the AMC concessions, we still have plenty of time before we need to be in our assigned seats for the six o’clock showing of Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker. A tradition shared between Peyton and me, we’ve gotten to the opening day of all the Star Wars films since The Phantom Menace, from getting out of school on Friday to midnight showings, and now Thursday showings. It’s hard to believe this could be it for a long while.

“There’s still baby Yoda,” she comments, meaning The Mandalorian on Disney Plus.

“True, but,” I gesture around us, “next time we’ll be doing this is twenty-twenty-two with the next Fantastic Beasts.”

We finally get up to the counter, ordering our medium sodas, cheese sticks and chicken fingers, and sweets. As we carefully maneuver through the crowd and get down the stairs, “It’s just another childhood experience that’s getting harder and harder to make happen.”

She laughs and bumps my hip, “You’re so nostalgic, huh?”

Being born at the beginning of Gen Z, I feel closer to being a Millennial. Technically a nineties kid, I wish I’d been born just a few years earlier. The rapid change of technology in my developmental years leaves me yearning for simplicity and structure. Like most people my age – give or take a few years – there’s something utterly appealing about the years before The Age Of Information. A time without hand-held computers, a time without constant distractions, a time before social media… the world wasn’t so big and the world wasn’t so complicated.

“I’m a little bit hipster, you know that.”

She bursts laughing, “Ohh, I know. Believe me, I know. You have this whole literature-loving, soft boy, plant-dad thing going on, with a car that has roll-up windows yet an aux cord, and a massive CD collection for your Walkman.”

I hold the theater door open with my foot, “You love it.”

Though she shakes her head, she’s smiling. “Of course, I do.”

Dead center in the theater, we find our seats aligned under the projector. Our conversation quickly goes away from my aesthetic and into the leaked plot we’d read for the movie. I fully believe Disney did that on purpose, trying to gauge the public’s reaction, but Peyton doesn’t seem to think so. She totally thinks what we’re going to watch will be a surprise, while I’m having doubts.

Just before the movie’s about to start, the theater lights dimming, she leans into me, “Oh, by the way, Jackie’s coming for Christmas.”

*

Leaning back against the back cushion, I fold my arms tight across my chest. After two-plus hours of being in the dark, the too-bright Steak ‘N’ Shake is making me squint. “Why the Hell is she coming home this year?”

Peyton points an onion ring at me, “Not ‘home’. She made that choice to live with Dad when she was ten, that’s her home. I have no f*****g idea why she wants to visit Mom this Christmas.”

I scratch at my brow, “I can’t even remember the last time she visited your mom at all. What… the Thanksgiving she was in eighth grade?”

She nods, “Yeah, because that next year she was a Freshman; high school was the final straw on the camel’s back….”

“Then why now?”

She digs a huge spoonful of shake. Taking her time with the whipped cream and cherry, she leans then back against the booth. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I wish I could say I don’t care, either, but you know how she makes me feel.”

Which is true. The word inadequate summing it all up. When her parents divorced, everything had gotten turned upside down. Not to say they had been rich, but they had been very comfortable for many years, and then Mister Gallagher left Midge for another woman, choosing another family over his own.

Jackie, who now very purposefully goes by her full name Jaqueline, followed her dad. In doing so, they avoided all the struggling and hardships Midge and Peyton had to go through. On top of that, any time Jackie had come to see her mom or messaged Peyton or posts anything on social media, it just oozes a better-than-thou attitude. Like she didn’t want to be associated with her original family, leaning into the life and style of her step-mom. Her hair always done just so, fake nails, perfect makeup, buying clothing from stores where a pair of jeans are roughly seventy dollars and a sweater is almost a hundred… she lacks authenticity, she lacks a personality.

I lean forward on the table, lowering my voice to comfort her, “Com’on Peyton, don’t let her get to you. You’re doing amazing! Your family is awesome, you’re kicking a*s in school, and you’ve got me!”

She empties her Coca-Cola glass then gives me a hard nod. “That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about?”

I c**k a brow, “What?”

She taps her thumb on the table, then her fingers flex my direction. “You – me having you. I’m wondering if you’ll be my boyfriend while she’s here.” After she sees my change of expression, she throws her hands up and laughs “Fake boyfriend! Fake boyfriend until she leaves.”

My brows come together and my mouth opens. Unsure what to say, I close it. I tilt my head, looking around the busy restaurant, not sure what to make of such an odd request. How could that possibly help?

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend right now,” she tries to explain. “I guess she and her high school sweetheart finally broke up before the start of class this year. She says she’s loving single life on f*******: and i********:, but she also posts on her Tumblr how hard it’s been and how much happier she is in a relationship.

“Now that I can prove my grades are comparable to hers and she’ll be able to see how great Mom and Eric are doing, I don’t know… it just seemed like the last perfect step to put her in her place.”

I look into her brown eyes, usually so soft and warm like hot cocoa. She can tell me every which way how this whole situation with her dad and Jackie messes her up, but I’ll never truly understand.

Jackie had proven she didn’t want to be a part of this family, my extended family. What harm could it do, anyway? “Okay… sure, I guess? As long as we don’t go overboard, it should be fine?”

She recognizes my hesitance, “I already talked it over with my mom. She didn’t exactly like it, but she says if that would make me feel better, so be it. So, my family will play along.”

I nod, already unable to believe I’m agreeing to this. “Right… and it’s just for Christmas.”

“Maybe New Year’s.”

“Maybe New Year’s.”