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Cowardice	By : saucyminion Category: G through L > Lord of the Flies Views: 17461 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Part 11 – Scars II

    It was nearing the end of the workday and everyone had run out of jobs to do. To pass the last ten minutes before closing, Jack and Ralph were sorting section “A – K” on the fiction shelves, putting everything back in its rightful place after the day’s customers had rearranged everything to their convenience.
    The two men worked in silence. They had spoken little to each other, aside from the necessary instructions regarding categorizing, genres, packing, unpacking, restocking, and so on. It was relatively simple work and Ralph found that it might have been enjoyable if he wasn’t so very aware of Jack’s constant presence. Beside him. Behind him. He was always dashing back and fourth around Ralph in the narrow spaces between the high bookshelves. Jack always seemed so busy and hurried, while Ralph was never aware of any deadlines pressing customers. Now though, they simply stood, silently finding stray books and putting them back in their properly marked positions.
    “Perhaps if…” Jack broke the silence but seemed to reconsider his unspoken statement or question at the sound of his own voice.
    Ralph glanced at him but continued carefully arranging the books. He waited, but Jack said nothing, so Ralph turned his attention back to the bookshelf. He noticed an “A” where the “H”s were and reached out to remove it from its place. At the same time, Jack had done the very same thing and their fingers knocked together for a moment before each of them withdrew their hands and shifted apart slightly, unconsciously.
    By that point, it was certain that more physical contact had passed he and Jack, in the past two days, than anyone else Ralph had encountered in a very long time. It was not only that thought that bothered him a little, but also the fact that it would actually occur to him to calculate such a thing.
    “What I mean is…” Jack continued abruptly. “Perhaps if you are not already engaged for the evening, you’d like to have supper with me tonight. At my house. Nothing formal. And I will not be offended if you decline, it’s nothing mandatory…” Jack was staring holes into the bookshelf.
    Ralph felt naturally enthusiastic about the idea and didn’t have time to ask himself why before responding. “Why?” He hadn’t meant to ask it. It just came out. But now that he’d asked, he hoped for an answer. Indeed, why was Jack; his boss and… whatever else he could put such a relationship into terms for, inviting him to supper? And did either of them need a reason, or excuse?
    Jack was looking down, his fingers resting on the bookshelf. “I don’t know… I suppose it was very familiar of me, asking you like that. I just though that maybe we could… eat. Together. And talk. A continuation of our previous discussion over tea?”
    Ralph sank to his knees slowly and gathered up a small stack of misfit “J” books he’d collected earlier, and stood, bringing them to his chest. He took a couple of seconds to consider as he did this. “I don’t know what we were talking about over tea yesterday. It was all nothing, really. Why do you want to talk… to me?” Why did he have to keep asking questions that did not need to be asked?
    Jack looked at him, fingers still having a light grip on the bookshelf. “I need to talk to someone. You know why, don’t you? I thought you might understand… I just… need to talk about it. To somebody who understands.” His voice was low even though they were the only ones left in the store.
    Ralph realized that he’d been looking at Jack’s faintly distressed eyes for too long. He diverted his attention and ran his fingers over the fresh angle of the page corners of one of the novels he was clutching. “What about your therapist?” he asked. “Don’t you talk to him?” He felt ashamed to have suggested such a thing, but interested in what Jack had to say to it. He knew that Jack hadn’t had time to go to the appointment with his therapist the day before. He knew he’d lied. And that didn’t make Ralph feel any less insensitive for acting as such an interrogator. He wanted to talk to Jack and eat with him at his house. In fact, he felt flattered and interested that Jack wanted to speak openly to him about what they’d been through as children. There was no reason he could find for his almost instinctive run of questions. It was clearly making Jack uncomfortable.
    “Oh.” Jack chose not to respond conclusively, as if “oh” was simply enough.
    Ralph wasn’t certain if he should say something. Apologise? How rude did he really sound? Jack finally continued.
    “I’ve stopped seeing my therapist,” he admitted. He let one hand drop from the bookshelf. “I… we had a disagreement, about a month ago. Actually, that day we met for tea… when I was on my way to my appointment, I was thinking about something you’d said to me. You know, about your former psychiatrist, the liar. And I just kept thinking… about some of the things Dr. Berkley had been – oh, that’s his name, Berkley – had been saying. Well… I realized that I didn’t want to go back to that… that old quack.” Jack scratched his head. “I stopped at a payphone and rang Berkley’s office, and told the receptionist to cancel all my appointments. And then I came back here to check on the store, to see if anyone had responded to the notice… and there you were. And here we are now.” Jack rubbed his neck and laughed nervously. He seemed to do that a lot. “More information than you needed.”
    Ralph felt his face burning and looked down. He felt painfully ashamed for being so suspicious of Jack when he knew so little of the man he presently was. But then, maybe that was enough to justify suspicion. “I would really enjoy dining with you. I haven’t got any plans.”
    Jack’s expression relaxed immediately.
    “But why do you want to talk about… I mean, I assumed you wanted to discuss –“
    “You were there with me. All those doctors and social workers and therapists… you went through that all too, didn’t you? They don’t know. They weren’t there. And I need to talk about it… to somebody. To you.”
    Ralph thought he saw some colour coming to Jack’s cheeks under his faded freckles. He must have been embarrassed. Ralph could also feel his face burning, but he didn’t feel threatened or intimidated at all. The fact was that even talking about talking about the island made him itch with discomfort.
    Ralph repeated, “I’d love to come to have dinner with you,” and was suddenly struck by himself. Why did he say “love” instead of “like” or “appreciate”? He’d always been prone to exaggeration. He wouldn’t “love” to eat dinner with Jack at his house at all. The very thought terrified him (while he was very interested and willing). But “love” certainly didn’t seem like an exaggeration of “terrify”. He made himself keep talking. “…But hasn’t anyone told you that if you pick at old wounds they won’t heal?” Ralph himself had maintained a poor childhood habit of picking at his scabs.
    “Yes, I’ve heard that.” Jack nervously stuck his hands into his pockets, not sure what to do with them having stacked all his books. “But scars – the dreadful, deep kind – don’t heal, anyway.”
    Ralph considered that for a moment. “Then why bother trying?” More questions. He wanted to slap himself.
    “Do you… do you really not want to? Don’t you ever feel like you need to talk about it?” Jack let out a deep sigh and shifted his feet. “Maybe I’m insane for hanging on to it all these years…”
    Ralph had a distinct urge to put his hand on Jack’s shoulder in an attempt to assure him, but he never would have actually made that contact. It was not invited. “But you’re right,” Ralph said. “You’re right, I do… I want to talk about it. Desperately, I do.” He shook his head. “I don’t really feel like I want to talk about it though. I need to. I really think I do. Whether I like it or not.”
    Jack waited a second before nodding, not sure how else to respond.
    As they both stood in silence, the deserted library seemed to grow even quieter. The walls and shelves seemed to stretch higher than they’d been before, and Ralph began feeling very small. He pressured himself to speak again, to clarify his response.    “Thank you for your invitation, I appreciate it very much. I good meal with a friend is just what I need.” Had Ralph been too foreword there? He felt as though he’d forced the word, but what else could he call Jack? He could never really call him “boss.”
    Jack smiled. His eyes looked brighter when he smiled. “I’m really glad to hear you say that.”
    Ralph wasn’t sure if “that” was his acceptance to the invitation, or the “friend” bit. Either way, Jack was glad, and that put Ralph at ease.
  “Why don’t you dive back to my house with me then, and I’ll give you a lift back to your flat after supper?” Jack looked over Ralph’s shoulder at the clock. “I think it’s safe to close for the evening.”
    “That sounds like a plan to me.”
    “I’ll clock us both out. Just find the home for those there,” he said, pointing at the stack of books in Ralph’s arms, “and I’ll be at the front.”
    Ralph finished placing the few stray novels and soon found Jack fumbling with some store keys at the front entrance.
    “I’ll have to apologize in advance,” Jack said, opening the front door for Ralph. They both stepped onto the sidewalk into a patch of rusty light from a street lamp. The road was narrow and deserted, which was odd for that time of the evening.
    “What for?” asked Ralph cautiously.
    Jack locked the door and stuffed the keys into his pocket. “My cooking. Normally my fiancé prepares supper, but she’s out of town visiting a cousin. She’s really not much of a homebody.”
    Ralph felt as though he’d suddenly stepped into a patch of quicksand.
    Jack had a fiancé.
    Ralph desperately tried to get a grip on himself as he followed Jack to his parking space outside the shop. Perhaps a fiancé would explain why Ralph had found Jack asleep with a self-help book opened to a chapter called ‘Unconventional Relationships: The Next Step’. A soon-to-be wife was not the conclusion that Ralph had initially come to, and suddenly he did not feel very hungry anymore.
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Cowardice