Zooey pulled away after their lips briefly met. He could tell he had done something wrong immediately when he touched her as he did.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, suddenly conscious of his actions. He sat back, allowing her her room, and looked away, deeply disappointed with himself. "No, I shouldn't have," he said, looking at the sleeping boy on the couch. He hadn't moved. Their words were still quiet despite the emotion conveyed in them. 

Jane’s eyes widened as Zooey kissed all over her face, and Jane pulled back after he kissed her lips briefly. Completely overwhelmed by what was happening, when she met his eyes, she half-expected to see Holden’s as she had all those years ago. “Zooey…” She whispered, looking down at her hands that were folded in her lap, “Oh god, Zooey, what are we d-doing?”

The girl wouldn’t meet his eyes and curled her legs towards herself, wrapping her arms around them and increasing the space between the two of them. She needed a moment to let everything sink in as the similarities and the memories had shocked her. Taking in a shaky breath, Jane focused on calming herself and slowing her heart rate down.

Once she had brought her breathing down to a normal pace, she finally looked up at Zooey. Her voice sounded terribly small as she spoke, “I’m- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” She paused to wipe the tears off of her cheeks, “I shouldn’t have cried, I’m sorry. I should’ve had some control or something. Th-Thank you, though. For trying to help. You didn’t have to, but you d-did and- Thanks.”

Zooey pulled away, looking down on her face. His face was a mixture of concern and sadness -- sadness to see such a beautiful girl crying before him. He wanted her to stop. He didn't want to see her like this. He didn't even know why it had happened, but he didn't want her feeling this way any longer. The words wouldn't come from her mouth and her lip quivered. He leaned in again, kissing her on the forehead. He kissed her on her cheek, feeling the warm skin beneath his lips. He kissed her on her nose and on her jaw and on her lips. It wasn't right, but he didn't know what else to do.

Feeling the pressure of his lips on the top of her head, her sobs intensified, the déjà vu feeling of the moment too much for her. After a few minutes spent close to him with her back turned, her cries subsided slightly and she lowered her hands, turning to face him. Her lip quavered as she tried not to make a sound, the tears sliding soundlessly down her cheeks. She wasn’t quite sure what to say, and her mouth opened and closed without a word as she struggled to find the words to apologize.

She turned her face away from his, and immediately he regretted asking her the question. He wrapped his arm around her as he shoulders started to shake. He pulled her closer and with his free hand smoothed the hair from her face. Her hands shielded her face, and he sat blankly staring at her for a moment -- young and beautiful with tear stained eyes. Her crying was so heart-wrenching to him that all he could was lean forward and kiss her on the part of her hair. 

Jane shook her head automatically in response. Turning away from Zooey to try and collect herself. Instead, her shoulders shook as she remembered the events leading up to her last game of checkers with Holden , the last game of checkers she’d played at all, really. As before, a single tear fell from her eyes and landed on the arm of the love seat, and the girl reached over tentatively and rubbed it into the fabric with her thumb so it wasn’t so prominent. Jane hid her face in her hands as the tears formed a continuous stream, the river of memories pouring in, things she hadn’t thought about in ages, and for good reasons as they were best left forgotten.

Zooey smiled to know she was interested. It was a game he hadn't played in years since his childhood. He missed it. Zooey saw the odd look on her face, but took nothing from it. "No, I'm afraid we never did. Seymour always said he saw some, but I don't think I still could believe him," he recalled. "Jane, is something bothering you?" he asked concerned for a moment when he saw any hint of a smile fade at once from her lips.

"I’d like that," Jane’s mind reflected back on all that had happened those summers she’s spent with Holden Caulfield and all their checker games together, and she frowned slightly at the memory of the ever-present Mr. Cudahy. Along with the pleasant summer memories, the not so pleasant ones surfaced as well, and it showed on her face for a moment before she was able to collect herself, though it became harder to smile at his next words as her mind raced. “Did you ever catch any?”

Zooey smiled fondly as she recounted her memories. He never had very many like that as a child, and if he did, they all were with his brothers and sisters and he didn't like to remember them often or else he would find himself feeling rather low. "We should play checkers sometime," he suggested. "Franny never would play with me. She always said I cheated, but she just wasn't that good was all." 

"We never did very much. Trying to take seven kids along somewhere was never very easy. But I missed a lot of the family things being the second youngest, I suppose. Sometimes Bessie would take us to the beach and Seymour would take Franny and I searching for fish all day," he said.

Jane sighed and nodded half-heartedly, “I have a few. We were in the house right next door to the Caulfields; Holden and I would go to the movies and play checkers often. That was always the highlight of my vacations, really.”

Taking out a cigarette of her own, Jane lit it with the lighter on the small table next to the love seat. She paused to take a long drag before she continued, smoke billowing out of her mouth as she spoke, “What did the famous Glass family do for fun? Surely you didn’t just stay at home over the summer.”

The cigarette was ending its life quickly, and Zooey turned his face just slightly enough to take a final drag off it before pressing it out in the ash tray on the table next to him. He looked back at Jane and smiled at her.

"Sounds just lovely," he said. There was something a bit odd the way she answered at first, but he chose not to question it and pushed it off that he had caught her off guard with the question. "I would have adored a childhood like that with a summer house. I'm sure you have so many fond memories."

Jane watched as Zooey went over and soothed the sleepy boy, smoothing out his curls and giving him a reassuring smile as he whispered that his parents would soon be home. She couldn’t help but note how good he was with Lionel, and a smile slowly spread across her face as she looked on.

The girl scooted over to try and make room for Zooey as he returned to his spot beside her, and she shrugged at his question. “Just- Like anyone else’s, I suppose.” There was no need to go into her stepfather, and she tried to skirt around the topic as she continued, “I grew up in New York, you know that. My mother raised me on her own for a while, and we’d go up to our summer house in Maine every year.”

A small smile spread upon Zooey's lips, although his attention was diverted when he heard the boy stirring on the couch. "She's only a friend," he muttered softly. He dropped his still burning cigarette into the ash tray, and he walked towards the couch. Crouching down, he smoothed the boy's hair and smiled to him. "Mamaí and Móraí will be home soon." The little boy nodded sleepily, and Zooey stood over him smoothing his hair until his eyes fluttered back closed. He returned to the small loveseat he had been sharing with Jane and picked up the cigarette again as he smiled at the now sleeping boy. "Tell me, what was your childhood like, Jane?"

Jane leaned back into the sofa and hugged a pillow to her chest as the two talked. “I bet you were just as adorable.” She giggled, careful to keep her voice quiet. However, the boy across from them blinked his eyes open slightly and she have him a small smile. “Zooey, who’s that?” Asked the small voice.

Zooey relaxed back into the couch, making room as she sat next to him, and casually he put his arm on the back just above her. "He's four now, I suppose," he replied in a hushed tone so as not to wake the sleeping boy. "I looked like any other kid -- curly hair, big nose and big ears. Alright, maybe a bit like Lionel."

Jane joined Zooey on the couch opposite the sleeping Lionel and frowned as Zooey explained what had happened. She hated how people would always talk about others, but it was especially awful when they did it around children, who would hear their words and think too much about it. “That’s horrible… How old is he, anyway?” As the man denied her claims that the two looked similar, she smirked and shook her head, “So what’d you look like when you were younger, then?” Despite her hushed tones, Lionel stirred and she glanced over at Zooey as he did.

"No clue," he replied as he pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips. "All I know is that they went out shopping for the afternoon." Zooey shrugged and lit the cigarette as he took a seat on the nearest couch. "She called my brother-in-law an awfully nasty word for a Jew and poor Lionel overheard. Of course, he wasn't quite sure what she said and thought he called him a 'kite,' but nonetheless it's awful. I mean, to still be so prejudiced nowadays. It's remarkable how ignorant some people can be." He frowned and took a long drag. "I've gotten that a lot before, but I don't think so. He looks more like Seymour when you look at all the old pictures."

"Okay…" Jane said quietly, feeling a great weight lift off her shoulders, "Great. So I suppose it’s just the two of us until they get back, then. Any idea when that will be?"

"What’d she say?" The girl asked, frowning slightly. But it lifted soon afterwards as she really took a good look at the sleeping boy, "He looks kind of like you, you know." And indeed it was true. Lionel had large ears that were disproportionate to the rest of his head at the moment, but which  he would grow into in time. His curly hair was also the same color as the man’s, and she hadn’t seen his eyes, but if they were blue as Zooey’s were, they might as well have travelled back in time to when Zooey himself was that age.

"You can stay. I'm not sore or anything. It was merely a comment. He does have a nasty habit of trying to run away. In fact, it's why he's here at the moment. Boo Boo thought it'd be a good idea to send him down here after he tried running away last week because of a nasty comment the maid made."

"Look, I don’t have to stay, Zooey. If you want me gone and to look after him on your own, by all means, kick me out."

"But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think it has to do with them not trusting you more than it does them not trusting him. Apparently he’s got a problem when it comes to staying in one place."

"Well that shows just how much they trust me with him."

"I got a call yesterday from a Beatrice Tannenbaum about looking after her son- Lionel."

"I call her Boo Boo, but yes. How -- how do you know that?"

"Your sister’s Beatrice Tannenbaum?"

"He's my nephew -- my sister's kid."

"Stuck babysitting for the day?"

I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not quite sure either. Ah, well, anyway it's too late to still be celebrating St. Patrick's.

I would offer you a kiss but I’m not entirely sure if that’s appropriate or not.

[ ♔ closed ] ❝Could you be quiet? I just got him to finally lay down for a nap.❞

[ ♔ open ] ❝It's a shame I missed out on the whole kiss me I'm Irish thing.❞

Zooey walked from the cabinet to the other corner of the room, where he sat down in his chair and lit the cigar he had been carrying in the front pocket of his shirt. He took a brief puff from it as he listened to her, and he sat back letting it burn between his fingers. "You don't have to pretend you don't want to talk about it. I'm not a child after all," he said with smoke seeping from his lips. "I can handle all you have to say."

"Yes, I’m goddam trying, Zooey!" Jane snapped, bristling at his words. "I’m sorry I’m not a master at disguising the fact that I had no intention of running into you and now that I have I have no idea how to possibly face you." The girl scowled, looking down at her hands that she fiddled with, folding and unfolding them on top of each other in an attempt to distract herself and not get too embarrassed at the painfully awkward tension between them.