#catch me in a nursing home age seventy writing the final chapter

[letsprayitwritesitself]

groundhog dave part 7 day five

Relief. Unadulterated and alien it washed over him when he woke up on February 2nd. Shame from upsetting Jack remained annoyingly in the pit of his stomach - he had still done the thing, after all - but Jack did not know. He wouldn’t say the wrong thing, now. He’d do better.

Because the day had still been useful. He was glad he’d dared to rely on the fact that it would disappear - he’d learned more about Jack, for example, namely that he was sensitive about how he came across despite appearing not to be (and having no reason to be) and that he was genuinely... a good guy. Dammit.

He now knew truths about himself, too. It made him cringe to think back over his four years at the station, apparently swanning around lofty and presumptuous, acting like he was too good for it all - humiliating, but fixable, surely.

There was still a jarring streak of gratitude through this embarrassment. Like someone pointing out you had spinach in your teeth - vexing, but you ended up glad that they pointed it out. Where “spinach” here equalled asshole behaviour.

Was that why this was happening? He had struggled, of course, with trying to identify the source of this thing, phenomenon, event - science? God? A powerful hallucination? If this were a movie it would clearly be a way to bring Davey’s attention to what needed changing in his day to day - and sure this was not a movie, but if he leaned into that point of view a little bit, what was the worst that could happen?

So he had already made a couple of changes. Taking the guys breakfast in the morning felt nice, and it showed that he appreciated their effort. Going with the flow where the weather was concerned, instead of getting mad that they couldn’t force the van through the storm? Way easier.

Shit, maybe Jack did have a point.

So he did this day almost - almost - the same as the one before. Not the underwear thing, though that had been novel and fun (also cold). He stopped for coffees, greeted the storm with a grin, told the guys that he was sorry for being an asshole on the way, then headed to the diner for just pancakes. Yesterday was a fun indulgence. Today might be the time to see what he should do.

They sat in the diner. Davey didn’t need to ask what he had desperately wanted to before, which felt good, and he let himself be a little glad that he had asked after all. Instead he could focus on figuring out how to built a rapport with Jack. He was clearly onto something - his advice about devaluing other peoples’ opinions was something Davey could remember and use, and it made him frustrated with himself that he had never thought to give Jack the time of day before.

‘So, you’re from New York?’ Not really a question. He remembered this from their first night out.

‘Yup. Born and raised.’

‘Why Philly?’

‘It’s where the job was, right? And like, why not. Something different.’

‘Wanted a change?’

‘Kinda. Like, feel like a change is normally a good thing. Shake it up.’

‘Do you go back much?’

‘What, am I being interviewed?’ Jack laughed quietly, tearing his slice of toast into halves and then quarters. 

‘Sorry, I just. Feel like I don’t know anything about you, which is terrible. We’re colleagues, y’know?’

‘Alright. Sure. I haven’t been back that much. I really like Philly, and like, once you meet a few new people in a new place it gets easier to stay. Aren’t you from New York too?’

‘Yeah. I moved for the job as well.’

‘Think you’ll go back?’

‘One day. Probably. It’s where my family are, you know. Old friends. Childhood memories, kind of thing.’ Davey watched as Jack stiffened, averting his gaze. ‘Not the same with you?’

‘I don’t really, ah, have a “family” in the sense of - in any sense.’ He emphasised the word family with air quotes, a move that tugged on Davey’s heartstrings. ‘But it’s fine - good, even. Maybe. Nothing tying me down!’ Davey hadn’t heard this in any of their conversations. He wondered if Jack was opening up because Davey had first, and marvelled at how quickly he had surrendered this obviously crucial bit of information once Davey had expressed an earnest intention to get to know him. Like it informed more of Jack’s life than he realised, maybe.

‘That’s a great way of looking at it. And awesome that you’ve been able to build bridges in Philly so fast?’

‘Yeah, I was a keen bean in my first week or so. Like, sending everyone facebook requests my first day. Went on like sixteen dates.’

‘Dates?’ Interesting. ‘Anyone I know?’

‘One or two from the station. Lisa. Amber. Albert. Not like date dates, just kinda. Drinks. Movies.’

A blip of white noise exploded in Davey’s ears for a second. Did he know that Jack liked guys? He would have remembered if it had come up in their previous talks. 

‘I - I remember that feeling. When you first get here - so many people, right?’

‘Exactly! All trying to impress each other and be heard. It’s wild, but I love it.’

‘I know what you mean. Sort of. Actually, not really.’

‘How about you, is there a Mrs. Creative Producer back in Philly?’

‘No. Um, it would be a Mr. Creative Producer. But there’s not one of those, either.’

‘You must meet so many people though?’

‘Yeah. I do.’

They slipped into a silent lull. Davey couldn’t tell what Jack was thinking but he was now casting his mind back over the sparse handful of dates he’d enjoyed in his four years of working (and of course those he hadn’t enjoyed.) He’d been out with Albert too, plus one guy from the research team, Specs. Then Skittery, the runner, and Darcy, the old weatherman. One a year, interspersed with the odd (very odd) match from Tinder or friend of a friend, and not that he was desperate or anything, but - that lack of direction, the frustration of feeling stuck, it was only amplified when he came home to his empty apartment or woke up to zero texts. Not desperate, but ready. So ready.

‘C’mon.’ Jack broke the silence. ‘Why don’t we go see what else Punx has to offer?’

It was still snowing. Jack was great company. Davey nodded and stood up.

As they stepped out the door Davey caught a look at the clock tower overlooking the main road. It was 10:30. Their conversation had lasted exactly as long as yesterday’s had, the one where he’d upset Jack (that, phew, again he thanked his lucky stars had disappeared.) He felt good, this felt like maybe how the day should be going - like he had started to realise what he needed to retain and amend from different versions of Groundhog Day, and the more right he got it, the more he felt like this ordeal might be winding down. 

Otherwise what hope did he have?

But. If he was leaving the diner the same time they had the morning before...

He paused outside the door, holding out his hand to stop Jack walking away.

‘What?’

‘Hang on. One second.’ He adopted a power stance, feet planted on the sidewalk, crouched down, ready. 

Jack shifted on his feet, glancing around awkwardly, pulling his coat round himself to shield against the snow. ‘You alright there, Davey?’

The puppy barrelled down the street, but Davey was there. He had to dive to the side just a little to grab it, but he managed to scoop the wriggling animal up into his arms, hugging it close to his chest as it squirmed and panicked.

‘What the heck - how did you see this little guy?’ Jack’s eyes widened as he watched Davey try to calm the dog.

‘I just - did. Here, can you?’ Davey passed the puppy over to Jack, elated that this bullshit day had given him an opportunity to do something moderately impressive in front of him. Jack held it tight, whispering soothing shushes into its ear, and Davey took a second to watch before nodding towards the direction of the motel. ‘I, uh, I know the owner. I think she’ll be this way.’

They continued down the street, and because Davey knew he could rely on the relentless repetitiveness of the day’s events, he was ready when the delivery man fell out of his truck and sent the boxes of cupcakes flying - haphazard and clumsy he managed to grab them in his arms: one large and flat, then four slightly smaller on top, they still landed with a crash but none of them hit the floor. The truck driver stumbled out and grabbed Davey’s shoulders to steady himself, gushing out an apology. 

‘Shouldn’t make me do these fuckin’ deliveries in the snow, listen, you saved my ass, you really - look, take one, they won’t notice if one’s gone,’ he took the boxes from Davey and flipped open the top one, taking a red velvet cupcake out and pressing it into Davey’s hand. 

As he hurried into the bakery Davey turned to look at Jack, keen to see his reaction and vaguely concerned that this might appear almost choreographed. Jack stared at him with raised eyebrows. The puppy strained up to lick Jack’s face.

‘This much adventure always follow you around?’

‘I think everyone’s just going a little crazy cuz of Phil.’

‘Is that right?’ Jack directed this question down at the puppy, and a weird, warm feeling started to stir in Davey’s stomach. Uh-oh.

He took a bite out of the cupcake as they kept walking back towards the motel and offered the other half to Jack. Jack struggled for a sec, trying to shift the weight of the dog into one arm so he could grab the cake, but the thing was wriggly and scared so he settled for saying ‘Can you just -’ and opening his mouth after a quick nod towards the cupcake. With the faintest blush Davey took the hint and fed Jack the remaining half, trying to mirror how casually Jack seemed to incite this physical contact but struggling just a little, and at the same time marvelling at how far their dynamic had transformed since the night before (well, you know, however many nights before.)

At the gate to the motel, sure enough, was the puppy’s owner, weeping into Mrs. Bloom’s shoulder, and Davey let Jack take the lead in reuniting them. He watched Jack grin from ear to ear as the pup slathered it’s mom’s face in kisses, before movement stirred from across the lawn and caught his eye.

Oh Jesus. He’d almost forgotten there was one more thing to prevent.

He crossed over to where he knew the man was about to fall off the ladder, intending to steady it so it didn’t slip into the soil, but he seemed to get there a second too late. The man fell, toppling backwards, landing directly on Davey.

//

He sat sullen in the emergency room, broken arm cradled in his lap. The day had been going so well. Too well. Almost perfect. But of course, it couldn’t be perfect, because this was Davey. He’d briefly fallen in love with the idea that being nice to Jack, and saving the puppy, the cakes, and the window washer, things he wouldn’t have done before this whole sorry experience, were the key to being liberated from this horrific cycle, but apparently they were just a ticket to actual bodily harm. Sure, when he’d ignored them the other day, it didn’t feel good but it felt better than a literal snapped bone.

He remembered with a jolt the day before, when he’d seen the man fall, that he had sat up right away proclaiming how fine he was. So he probably didn’t even need to try and save him? Talk about biting off more than you could chew. If he was bored with this fucking existence before, now he was actively pissed off by it.

Jack sat next to him, trying in sparing attempts to cheer him up but somewhat aware that the moody producer he’d known before was probably back for the time being. 

‘This has gotta be a good few days off, though, right?’ He nudged into Davey’s side, trying to draw his eye away from where he was staring at the grubby waiting room wall.

‘I want to be at work.’ He replied curtly. ‘I wanted to be there this morning, too.’

‘God, you don’t switch off, do you?’

‘I’m annoyed that I didn’t want to be here today and now I’m in the E.R., alright?’

‘You might have broken your arm in Philly? This might have always been written in the stars. 

You have no fucking idea.

He resisted the urge to snap at Jack, instead tipping his head back and letting out a long sigh. ‘You don’t have to stay,’ he said, staring up at the ceiling. ‘I’ll understand if you don’t want to spend your day here listening to me complain.’ God, just half an hour before he had literally been feeding Jack a cupcake. He couldn’t have asked for a better morning. How could he have been so misguided?

‘C’mon, I’m not leaving you on your own. They might put you on really strong pain meds, and that’s something I wanna see.’

Davey smiled. In the heavy silence of the emergency room he let himself dwell on two things. One: How much his fucking arm fucking hurt. Two: How in theory he had now spent five days with Jack, thinking about Jack, getting to know him and starting to open up to him, and how if this was normal life then he’d be totally justified in starting to feel something for him. He couldn’t have predicted any of this, not the cycle of the same day, nor the fixation on Jack that it would lead him to, and especially not the ability it somehow gave him to plan days with Jack that led to this weird almost-tension. Even now, sitting here, it felt almost natural and completely tempting to just lean into Jack’s side, thanks to that now kind of pathetic, sick-kid feeling that had settled over him. He felt completely entitled to some physical comfort, but resisted. 

The problem, though, was that was much as through this day he had fostered something new with Jack, if the morning came and it was February 2nd again, it would all be gone, and yet this tiny little inkling of a crush would still be there. And it would keep growing, because Jack would still be Jack. Davey would have the bad luck of having developed a crush seemingly overnight, in reality that had come from days of contemplation. How the hell was that fair?

‘Dave? Can I ask you something?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but... Did you ever ask not to be sent here?’

‘Did I...’

‘Like. You seemed really annoyed about it. But you never said whether or not you had a choice.’

‘I didn’t have a choice. I mean. I don’t think I did?’

‘Could you have found out? I know it’s too late now. But.’

‘I’m still a tiny cog in the machine, Jack, I don’t think any of them care what I want.’

‘But you don’t know, do you? Listen, I’m only saying because now I’ve started to get to know you, I can see that you’re not the dead-eyed producer-bot I thought you were. I feel like I know that you can do better.’

Davey opened his mouth then closed it. He sighed. ‘I’ve never tried. You’re right. I’ve never -’

‘David Jacobs?’ A nurse finally, finally appeared in the doorway. ‘You can come through now.’

//

‘You didn’t have to wait for me.’ He said this through a smile as he walked back into the waiting room and saw Jack engrossed in an old copy of Good Housekeeping.

‘Shut up, yeah I did.’ Jack stood up, holding out Davey’s jacket then reconsidering. Davey’s arm was now in plaster and tucked against his arm in a sling, so Jack draped the jacket round Davey’s shoulders, gently tugging it together at the front. ‘You all fixed up?’

‘Ish. Six weeks in this, which is hilarious. You’re going to have to drive us back if we ever get to leave this place.’ He walked through the front door which Jack was holding open for him.

‘I wanted to say, Dave - I’m sorry if I overstepped, what I said before. It’s none of my business what you do or don’t ask the executives. I just, I’d hate to think of you languishing in Punx for no reason.’

Davey laughed quietly. ‘Languishing is definitely right. No, I really hate to admit it but you have a point.’ It was around 3pm. The sun was blinding. The wind, cold. ‘I’m heading back to the motel. I think I’m done for the day.’

‘I’m sure you are. Can I walk you back?’

‘Yeah.’ Punx was small enough that it was barely a ten minute walk. ‘It made me think, what you said. I think that this... Me getting fucking maimed on the job - it might have given me enough fuel to. Y’know. Do something.’

‘Alright, I like it. Do what?’

‘Call them. Talk to the execs. Be heard.’ It had felt like an epiphany. It had happened as he sat in the X-Ray room, waiting for them to ascertain that the arm was broken (something he felt fairly confident he could tell them for free) - the realisation that everything he had been sad and annoyed and disillusioned by, in this version of this day, might be on the verge of being fixed. He had made a better impression on Jack and Crutchie, there was this new spark that he knew he wasn’t imagining - the last thing had to be his job. So if he could call up the producers tonight, make his case, tell them with reason and logic why he was better than this - that would leave no reason for him to have to do this day again. He would have learned his lesson.

‘I think you’d be really happy that you did. They really like people who speak up, I mean, you know that.’

‘I do. In theory.’ But then he had come to expect this day to repeat itself. It was one thing to think that he had this right, and quite another to actually be right.

Didn’t that just mean there was literally no harm in trying?

They stood at the bottom of the motel staircase. 

‘Guess I’ll go find Crutchie and fill him in.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He’s friends with basically everyone in this town; he’ll be in some restaurant or living room somewhere.’

‘Thanks for... Thanks. Today’s been bananas. In a... not-terrible way.’

‘You’re telling me. Give me a call if I can pick you up any painkillers or candy or, I don’t know. Grapes. Sick people stuff.’

‘I will. Thanks, Jack. One thing you can do?’

‘Go on?’

‘Will you sign it?’

With his good hand he dug a marker out of his pocket and handed it to Jack, who accepted with a smile. He waited for Davey to gingerly extricate his arm from the sling, and held it gently. He cradled Davey’s hand in his own as he wrote, meaning Davey could barely breathe as he focused on the dizzying scrap of skin-on-skin contact where Jack’s fingertips touched the very top of his palm, and his thumb imperceptibly stroked across his knuckles.

‘Here.’

It was a cartoon of a groundhog with a cast on it’s arm, and the message Little shit couldn’t predict this. Take it easy, superstar. Jack.

Davey cradled the arm back against his chest like it was precious. ‘Thanks.’

‘I’ll check in on you later, alright?’

‘Yeah.’ He took a step backwards up the stairs, and with a smile Jack started towards the door. Davey took a deep breath in, and said one more thing. ‘Jack?’

Jack turned.

‘Um. When we’re back in Philly, do you wanna - can I buy you dinner? Say thanks for waiting?’ An agonising pause. Jesus. Say something.

Jack nodded, eyes crinkling in a smile. ‘Yeah. Yeah, you can.’

//

‘Andy?’ Even as he spoke on the phone to his boss, even as he had a twinging broken arm laying across his stomach, and even as snow piled up outside and the sky grew darker despite it being not even five, a persistent smile played about Davey’s lips. The day was perfect. But... perfect in an imperfect way. Not a fairytale, but something like it. It was hopeful. ‘Just keeping you posted from the front line.’

‘Sure thing, Dave, shoot.’

‘We’re staying here through the storm. I’ll be working on the ACLU thing from here and I can send you plans and scripts as I have them. I, um, I broke my arm. So there’s that. If we could make sure Jack’s insured to drive the van back, otherwise we have to do something.’

‘Broke your arm? Jesus, Jacobs. Feel free to take tomorrow off.’

‘No, it’s fine. It’s fine - Andy, I need to ask something. I don’t want to wait until I get back.’

‘Go for it, kid, but quick.’

‘I don’t think I should be sent on these things anymore. I think... I think I’ve made my case for being kept on the big stuff at home. And I know I’ve always done it, but I think maybe that’s because I’ve never said I don’t want to. And I don’t. Obviously if you decide to keep me o these, I’ll do a good job, you know I will. But. Just in case you didn’t realise. I’m a good producer and I think I could be utilised better.’

God, another painful pause. People had to stop doing that to Davey.

‘I agree.’

‘What?’

‘You’re good at the Groundhog Day stuff, but I know you’ve got the skills to take on bigger projects. This is what happens when you don’t speak up, kid! We’ll talk Monday.’

‘Oh my god! Thank you, Andy, thank you so much!’

‘Get some rest, kid. Didn’t need to break your arm to get my attention.’

‘No. Right. Thanks.’

He put his phone down on the nightstand and fired up Netflix on his laptop before settling down carefully in bed. He could tell, he was sure that he had done everything he was meant to, particularly because remembering the night they had arrived in Punx, he never could have predicted any of what had happened this day. Tomorrow would come. February 3rd would come. He was sure. It had to.

Right?