The Rest of It

Previously: Chris gives Jeannie a big surprise.

Photo and Graphic by Annie Wilson

Chris didn’t offer up an answer. “Okay Chris, what about the rest of it?” She pressed, “I can’t just say yes to this, as wonderful as it is. I mean, a kitchen can’t fix us.”

“What do you mean?” He looked shocked. “You just said you wanted the kitchen, here it is.” He spat out bitterly. “You’re telling me this isn’t good enough for you?” Jeannie knew how wounded he was from his voice. Chris Rossi, the smoothest of smooth talkers, the closer of multi-million-dollar deals, the charmer, the favorite son, the one who could convince anyone of anything with a wink of his eye…he had miscalculated her and didn’t know how to handle it. Jeannie sighed and turned to face him, his face showing pure hurt.

“I mean…” Jeannie began slowly, “this is, this is beyond, Chris, as grand gestures go, this is the grandest. But, I…I would rather you just show up for me when I need you, and communicate, and help me plan a kitchen when I ask you to - I wanted it to be something we did together.”

“I always show up for you Jeannie.” He was curt.

“That’s not true. You didn’t even come to my graduation!” 

“I came to your graduation - I sat with your family!” 

“My law school graduation? Mom had just died - I was a fucking zombie! I barely even remember it. And yes, you were there, but you didn’t bother with my Academy graduation.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I see your eye roll - you think it’s ridiculous. Like, something I’m playing at. You didn’t even respond when I sent you the invitation! Remember? Not like you were around to talk to, even when you were, you just avoided me.” Chris began pacing. Jeannie knew this meant he was uncomfortable with the topic and had been trying to avoid it. “And this was after all the silent treatment I got after I failed the bar!” Chris spun at her, eyes flaring.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s what I told Brandon earlier, when I didn’t pass the bar, it was like — “ She was trying to breathe, “— it was like all of you looked at me with this disappointment all the time. It was like…like pity and scorn and failure coming at me all the time — you barely spoke to me, but it was all right there on your face. And here I am, a failure, and you just punished me for it.” Chris stared at her, disbelief contorting his handsome face. “Like I couldn’t punish myself enough.” Her tears wouldn’t stop.

“And I went to the Police Academy because, because I felt like I had to do SOMETHING. And it seemed to fit somehow. I would be helping people because that’s what I wanted to do. Maybe it was a plan B, but I thought it was a good plan B, and maybe I’d get it right and everyone would be proud of me again and they’d stop looking at me like I was a royal fuck-up. Silly me.” Her voice was a throat-aching screech. 

“And then your Dad —”

“It has nothing to do with my Dad! I mean, he needed us around, and you and I were like strangers at the time and no, I didn’t think it was a healthy situation for either of us, so yes, I moved into his place. But, he wasn’t the reason, Chris.” 

“You didn’t even discuss it with me!” His eyes were huge. “I thought we were partners, Jean. Partners talk things through and make plans together. You didn’t tell me about the Academy until there was a uniform in your closet - you didn’t even tell me you were leaving until you were gone.”

“You’re RIGHT- they do…make plans together, like a KITCHEN. You know what else partners do?” She yelled, she didn’t have it in her to modulate. “They encourage and support and love unconditionally, or at least try to. And I TRIED Chris, you know I did. I tried talking with you - I even apologized for failing the bar, because it felt like I’d failed you. And you just, you just…you were so wrapped up in your work. You made it very clear that you had better, bigger things to do than be around such a screw up - let alone want to fuck her.” She couldn’t even finish. She caught her breath again and whispered. “I’m so sorry I disappointed you. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet your expectations.” Chris looked at her completely stunned.

“Jeannie,” Chris began softly, “if anyone’s sorry about expectations, it’s me. I failed you. I should have helped you with the bar. It was a terrible time, I know that. I - I let you fail, just when you needed me, I know that.” He sighed. “And I — I felt — I feel, so guilty about that, and I didn’t know what to say or do. I still don’t. So I just, I just tried to stay out of your way.”

“Yeah. I noticed.” Her face was entirely wet.

“Don’t ever think I don’t want to fuck you.” Chris crossed the floor to stand in front of her, tilting her chin up. “I thought that went without saying.”

“Well, you weren’t saying anything at all.” He swam in her vision.

“I’m sorry, Jeannie. I’m sorry. For everything. I failed you, I failed Maevy.” Maevy — Jeannie’s mother, Mary Frances. Her father called her Mae, and everyone else called her Maevy.

“What do you mean by that?” Jeannie whispered.

“I mean, when she was sick, toward the end, she and I talked. She said that she was glad we were together because she knew you’d need me once she was gone.” Chris’s eyes were shuttered with regret. “And I failed her. And you.” He whispered. Jeannie’s mind was completely blank. This admission was wholly unexpected and it was a swift stroke through the heart. “And I avoided you, and tried to just work and not acknowledge it because it scared me to know I let both of you down.”

“And you’ve been working ever since.” Jeannie shook her head slightly.

“What the hell does that mean?” Chris glared at her. Jeannie stood there for a moment, considering. She took a deep breath.

“It means be honest with me about your shit, Chris. What did you say to me on our first date?” She looked him dead in the eye, and he looked at the floor. “Chris, look at me, what did you say to me?” Reluctantly, he looked at her. 

“I said that I loved that I didn’t have to hide from you.” He whispered.

“Yes. And that no matter how much you tried to impress me, you knew I wouldn’t be impressed with all your trying. All your work, all your flash and dash.That with me, you could be you, because I saw through all of that. And that was why you knew you were in love with me.” She finished quietly. He blinked slowly, moving to lean against the counter. She stared off into space, thinking it through. “Wow, Chris. All these months — “ Jeannie shook her head. “I’ve been hiding from you, but you’ve been hiding from me more. And left me to feel inferior and dumb and a total failure.”

“Inferior? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the deal maker of Silicon Valley. You. You’re telling me you’re guilty but you’re really diving into work and living up this LIFESTYLE — steak dinners, and flying private, and bottles of DRC¹, and rounds at Pebble², and…and my God, I have never seen anyone more excited than the day you got your damn Black AmEX.” She chuckled through her tears. “You know I don’t want any of that, because it’s all fluff to me. But now that I’m a failure, I must not be good enough for it.”

“What’s wrong with being excited about these things? I’ve worked hard for years, Jeannie. And you’ve enjoyed the fluff plenty, even if you can see through me and everything else, you fucking enjoy it too.” His eyes flashed.

“Yes, I have, and there’s nothing wrong with being excited, but they’re just THINGS. They aren’t you. I want YOU, Chris. I want your time and your presence and your support and your partnership and your love - I want YOU. You know that’s all I’ve ever wanted. And for some reason, in the last year, that’s the hardest thing for you to give. You never once stepped away from work for me. Never gave me your time. You were too busy chasing these things, and you certainly weren’t chasing me.”

“You knew what my work life was like before we ever got together. You knew it.” He whispered.

“Yeah, and you hated it then too.” Chris looked away, stung. “I accepted it and supported it because for some reason, that’s your goddam dream: to be some big deal maker, even if you told me flat out that you hated the hours and the work. You have to chase it all because you want to be a big deal, but you were born a big deal, Chris, and I’ve always told you that.” She inhaled sharply. “You tell me you failed ME, but you didn’t change a thing: you’re out living it up - guilt free, I might add. And then, and then, the moment I have a new dream I want to pursue you’re nowhere. It was like… fucking Keyser Soze³: “poof he’s gone.””

“Your dream? Jeannie stop.” The second he said it, she saw red.

“STOP?” She yelled. 

“Yes, I’m sorry I missed your graduation thing, okay? There. Let it go.”

“Let go of the fact that once you found out about the Police Academy you wouldn’t even look at me? That you never encouraged me, you never even asked me anything about it? EVER? Do you have any idea how scared I was? And you were absolutely NOT there for me. Not physically, not mentally, not NOTHING. You just discarded the whole idea and me with it! Just like you’re discarding the issue right now!” She glared at him and he paced again.

“I needed you, Chris, I needed to talk to you, I needed you to be my sounding board and my support and my best friend and…my MAN. And you were nowhere.” She sobbed. “Oh, sorry, not nowhere - you were on a golf course in the Caribbean or something. But you definitely weren’t here.” She breathed, “it was like living with a ghost.” Chris looked stunned. They were both silent. “And now I have to let it go. I have to accommodate you because you failed me and you felt so guilty you couldn’t even talk to me? Nice.” Jeannie felt her whole body shake with anger. “That is a complete cop-out. At least own your shit, Chris. You owe me that much.” Chris paced and they were both quiet.

“I just - I just don’t understand why you’d join the police. I’m sorry I don’t.” He finally admitted softly.

“Yeah, that’s pretty clear. I’m so sorry I made a decision to pursue something that doesn’t fit in with this version of us that you’ve held in your head, where I’m your perfect sidepiece.” Chris glared at her. “Maybe I’m just not perfect, Chris…maybe what you really need is a trophy wife who always looks good and makes you look good and does everything perfectly, and doesn’t need you at all.” She tried to breathe, “but I do need you. I’m sorry if that’s inconvenient.”

Jeannie stood rooted barefoot to the center of the kitchen, Chris stopped pacing and stared out the window, face contorted. She had to ask him the one thing she had always been afraid to ask. “Why do you hate that I’m a cop so much?” Chris spun around and stared at her, disbelief all over him.

“Why do I hate it?” He started slowly, dangerously low, eyes narrowed. “I mean, I just wonder if you know who you are any more.” His frustration was right at the surface. “You know me better? Well, I know myself. I’m the closer, I’m the asshole, I’m the guy that makes everybody all the money. I know what I am. It may not be a dream job, and it may not be noble, but I’m fucking good at it.” He sneered. “But, I know you, Jeannie. I may not have ideals, but you always did. You were going to go work for the ACLU and advocate for important things: human rights and civil rights and gun control - that was the dream I knew about - the one you always wanted. So you’ll understand my confusion, when, out of nowhere, you give up on all of that and you’re just gonna go be a cop? And carry a damn gun every day? EVERY DAY!” He shouted. She winced. “And statistically you know that makes you that much more likely to be shot.” Fury came out of his eyes. His body was shaking. “You could die every day you go to work Jeannie, and I cannot stand that.” She saw his eyes fill and he looked away. 

“That won’t happen, Chris.” She said softly.

“You don’t know that.” He shook his head at her and leaned back against the counter. “You don’t know that.” There it was, the whole thing. “I hate it because I worry about you. You are…you are everything to me, even if I can’t show you that all the time, you know it’s true. You know it’s true. It’s not some fucking Black AmEX, Jean. And I certainly don’t want some fucking sidepiece. I want YOU.” His eyes spilled over. “Jesus, I can’t…I just can’t stand that I can’t keep you safe.” He whispered. “I can’t stand that you joined the police because I didn’t help you more. But more than that - the bar is just a fucking test. You can take it again. But you just…” He wiped his eyes with his wrist. “You’ve never been a quitter, Jeannie.” Jeannie’s own tears melted down her cheeks. She realized that instead of seeing her as someone pivoting and regrouping, Chris saw her as someone giving up.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Chris shrugged, exasperated.

“Because it was done! You had decided and I didn’t get a say. Because there was already so much we weren’t talking about. And then…” He got quiet. “And then you were focused, and studying, and excited in a way that I hadn’t seen in, maybe ever — not even when you were at Hastings. And I didn’t want to be the bad guy. Again. So I stayed out of your way. I figured if this was how you were going to punish yourself, then…you knew what you were doing.” They were silent, their words still hanging in the air with the relief that comes after getting things said. “So I guess I’ve just…been avoiding all of this. It’s just…I’m terrified.” His voice breaking as he looked at her. 

“And hiding in work and all your bullshit.” She said simply. He nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Just like you.”

He said it and Jeannie felt a chuckle rise in her. That was so like them: totally aware of each other’s bullshit, totally disregarding their own. She burst out laughing, tears still streaming. Chris’ eyes were bright with surprise.

“We’re both ridiculous.”

“Completely.” He agreed, a smile starting. “I’m not perfect either, obviously. I’m pretty terrible, at least I feel that way. I hate that I let you down, Jean.” He sighed. “Do you think - maybe we can be ridiculous and imperfect?”

“Yes.” Jeannie offered weakly. “Two idiots are better than one.” It hurt just to look at him. “Why does everyone else think we’re so perfect?”

“Because we are — we’ve always been perfect for each other.” He smiled at her. “But, what do they know? I mean, all that matters is that we know.” She took a steadying breath, nodding.

“This moment feels far from perfect.”

“I know. But, I don’t think avoiding things has been good for either of us.”

“True.” She knew this was a big admission from Chris. “You know, I’m not punishing myself by being in the police, Chris. I did it so I would stop punishing myself for not being a lawyer.” She breathed. “I had to - I had to put it behind me. I’m sorry you think that means I gave up. But I had to, to forgive myself, even — even if you and my family still didn’t...don’t. Failing the bar — it was too much, too soon. I don’t want to re-take it — at least not in the near future. Something broke in me that day. I think I’m only just realizing it. Or maybe I was broken before I ever took it.” She looked at him, hoping he’d understand.

“Jeannie, there’s nothing to forgive. It’s just a test. It’s not you.”

“Now you tell me.” She tilted her head at him. “You’re right though: being a cop was the last thing I thought I’d do, but I’m kind of good at it.”

“You’re good at everything.” He said softly, deep blue eyes pleading. He was quiet for a few long seconds, and then it was his turn to laugh. “You’re so good at everything, you’d be a perfect trophy wife.” Jeannie tried to roll her eyes, but chuckled instead.

“Are you making me an offer?” Her voice was low, spent. This was very dangerous territory. Chris chuckled again, crossing his arms, considering her with a slight smile. That glint in his eye was her favorite thing. He bit his lip.

“I’ve thought about it. But I didn’t know what you thought about it.”

“I’ve thought about it. I think we both need to think about it more.” Jeannie admitted.

“I do too. And then…eventually think about it together.”

They considered each other silently, the afternoon sun turning the room into autumn gold. Their mutual admissions floating away in the light. It really was a beautiful kitchen. “You know, with the Academy - I kind of wish you had gotten in my way. Or at least asked some questions. All this time I thought you didn’t care.”

“Jean — don’t ever think that. Please.” 

“You still have to talk to me, Chris. Especially when you don’t like something.”

“I’m the one that’s been trying to get us together for weeks. I know I avoid things, Jeannie, but I’ve been trying.”

“I have been TRYING just to keep my head above water all this time. It’s been so much, Chris. My life went in a completely new direction between, between Mom, and the bar, and the Academy, and new job, and my Dad, and you and me…” Jeannie felt like she could hardly breathe. She opened one of the new cupboards and found a glass and filled it in the pristine sink before gulping half of it down. “Chris - you - you’ve been my rock, and I - I, I feel like you aren’t that any more. And I’m just spinning out.” Her voice was a tiny squeak. “And I hate it.” Her face ached from crying. Chris came over to her, his beautiful, strong chest in her vision. 

“Jeannie - “ he whispered. “I’m here.” His arms moved around her, and she sobbed into his bare shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” She felt him exhale deeply. “But you are the only one who can center yourself. I can be here for you - and I am - but I can’t give you the answers.”

“I know.” She whimpered. “But I don’t need answers, I just need you to hear me.” He hugged her tighter.

They stood like that for a few long minutes, not saying anything more, both of them quaking with relief. It was wonderful just to touch him, to feel his warm skin. To just hold him, to be held by him. To feel safe. There was still a lot to work out, but at least it was all out there. Chris stroked her hair back and kissed her face, taking her tears away. She reached up to wipe his with her thumbs. 

“I love you.” He whispered. 

“I love you.” She took a long look at his beautiful face. “We have more to say, but I have to go.” 

“Don’t go yet.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers.

“No, I have to — I have to make dinner.” She sighed, slipping out of his arms, moving toward the hallway. She felt worn out and wobbly. 

“Wait - I’ll shower and I’ll go with you, and help with dinner.” He suggested, following her down the hall.

“You know, I —” she didn’t want to say no to him, but, “— that’s a lovely offer, but I think, I think I just need to be alone for a little while. I need — to process all of this.” She gulped, pulling on her jeans, then zipping up her boots. “I’ll be better at dinner.” She grabbed her turtleneck and jacket. “I’ll give you back your sweater.” Chris just stood there, his bare torso tempting her, a slight smile on his face.

“You always look better in my clothes.” His eyes raked over her. “But don’t forget your gun.” He said wryly, nodding to her holster on the floor. 

Jeannie’s shoulders sagged as she scoffed at him. Suddenly her anger rose up again. It was so like him to offer up an apology and then say something glib to re-balance the power in his favor. He always put shit back on her. She felt hot; her tear streaks drying on her face. Chin set, she glared at him, shrugging off his sweater and dropping it on the floor, leaving her bare from the waist up. His eyes grew wide as he looked her over. “What are you doing?” He asked quietly. She reached down, plucked her bra from the floor and put it on, staring at him right in the eye, and then did the same with her turtleneck. Finally, she pulled up her holster by the strap.

“What?”

“You know Chris, it’s not a gun, it’s a pistol.” She began softly, taking slow steps toward him leaning against the wall. “In this case, it’s a Sig Sauer P226 service weapon. They’re chosen by both the military and police because they’re not only powerful but also light and accurate. It’s basically a 9mm, but this one is chambered with .40 caliber rounds. Why would that be, you ask? Well, apart from the long debate about wether 9mm is better than a 40-cal, it’s because a 40-caliber round has more stopping power. That means, it’s more likely NOT to kill someone when you shoot them. Unless of course, you shoot for the head or the heart.” She raised an eyebrow at him. He was transfixed. “However, a 40-cal has higher recoil, which means you really have to have a lot of control.” She paused, daring him silently.

“When it’s loaded,” she shrugged her holster on over her shoulders, “like mine is right now?” Her voice a low warning, “it means it has 12 rounds in the clip and 1 in the hole. Plus, I carry two extra magazines of 12 rounds each — that’s 37 rounds on me at all times. And this?” She tapped her police star, clipped to her waistband, his eyes glancing at it. “This means I’m an officer of the San Francisco Police Department. It’s called a star. And I earned it.” Chris was perfectly still, blue eyes flaring. “Show some fucking respect.” She whispered dangerously. Chris blinked.

“You have never been hotter than you are in this moment.” He whispered, stunned. She glared at him, jaw set. She didn’t plan on the speech, but it made her feel more powerful than she had in days. She wanted him on his knees again. She got very close, staring into his eyes.

“That’s because I know who I am, and how hard I’ve worked. You think I’m a quitter? You think I’m playing? All these months, I couldn’t count on anyone, so I bet on myself. You just weren’t around to see it.” Her eyes narrowed. “You counted me out.” She spun away from him and grabbed her jacket.

“Jeannie — Jeannie, I didn’t count you out.”

“Really?” She gave him a final glare over her shoulder. “I might not be all together, I might not be centered, but I have a direction. And I am doing my best.”

“I know that.” Of course he’d say that. She shook her head slightly.

“How would you know that?” She huffed, shrugging. He said nothing. “Don’t be late for dinner.” She walked out the door, straight-faced.

1. Domaine de la Romanée Conti - considered one of the world’s best wine producers, from Burgundy, France. Made of pinot noir grapes, it is consistently one of the most coveted, most expensive wines in the world.

2. Pebble Beach - The top public golf course in America, two hours south of San Francisco outside of Carmel, California. Site of multiple US Opens, annual PGA tournaments, as well as a popular annual Pro-Am. A round of gold currently costs $675 per player.

3. Keyser Soze - Fictional villain from the 1995 film The Usual Suspects, played by Kevin Spacey.