Chapter 19
Bucky comes home after ending another call with Sam, who just wanted to check in. He insisted he was fine, like the other calls, and it wasn't even a lie. He expressed his complicated feelings on the death of his father the same way he did with Steve. His dad was so out of his life most of the time he's not even sure him and Sam met, even though their friendship dates back to highschool. Sam seems to understand even though he checks on him almost daily still. It's been almost a week since his father's passing. He hasn't been at the Lakehouse much in case his mom needed something, his apartment was closer to her. Jack came along this time, though he noticed the dog's resistance from driving away from the house.
His apartment didn't technically allow pets but he's been friendly with the landlord for a few years so he convinces him to let him, just this once. Luckily Jack doesn't bark much so that was a strong push.
"Alright but anything past a month and I'm increasing your rent," his landlord leaves him with an empty threat, which Bucky laughs off.
His mom apparently didn't need him at all this week so he pretty much did stay for no reason so he figured he might as well stay until the memorial service. He misses Steve though. For a split second he thinks Well I can just send him a letter from the apartment. That's not how it works, Barnes.
The memorial service is in 2 days. He'll just wait until then and go back to the lakehouse as soon as it's over. He would go now for a few days but he really didn't want to move Jack back and forth again plus if his mom really did need something...(she won't)...but God he really did need to work on something to say at the service.
Just as he finishes up writing about a childhood memory with his dad that seems mostly made up he gets a call from her. Even though he's was expecting some sort of call from her all week he still doesn't know what to say. He answers with a "hello?" as if he didn't look at the caller ID.
"Hey, honey. It's mom. I was just calling to let you know the family talked it out a bit and you don't have to say anything up there on Tuesday. We can arrange it so there's no pressure or anything. So anyways just wanted to tell you that. If you have any questions let me know."
"Ma? You know this isn't a voicemail right?" Bucky gets out before she hangs up on him.
"What? Yes of course."
"So can I talk?"
"Of course..." She says again. He knows he caught her off guard.
"You guys don't want me to speak?" He asks, already readying him self for a bullshit reason.
"I didn't say that."
"Heavily implied there, ma."
"Well we just think it might be ...odd for people to see a son they've hardly seen get up there and say something..." She admits.
"'Hardly seen' hmm and who's fault is that?"
"Your father loved you..." She lets out, giving Bucky the answer to his question.
"Right. He was just ashamed of me."
"We were never ashamed of you," Bucky almost laughs at her combining her and his father and probably the rest of the family. "We just..."
"'Wanted better for me'" Bucky repeats, sarcastically. Words he's heard before.
He hears her sigh. "I thought it'd be easier for you. Figured it'd be hard for you to write something considering..."
"Our amazing relationship?"
She ignores the way he says that. "I mean..." she hesitates. "Were you writing something?"
"You asked me to," he says, as if to say 'I was doing it for you'.
"Bucky...?"
"I had a few things down but if you really don't want me to I won't."
"I don't not want you to. I just...I just want it to be genuine."
"Yeah," he looks down at the paper he was just writing on. He breathes in. "It'll be genuine, mom." He says softly.
"Okay," She matches his softness. "You can manage?"
"Just some very slight embellishments," he says lightly.
She laughs.
"But yeah I have a few stories."
She's quiet.
"If you still don't want me to it's...I won't be insulted. Funerals are for the grieving after all." He doesn't mean to imply that he wasn't part of the grieving just that she'd be, in all honestly, grieving more than he would.
"He's your father," she says. "You should." It's not an order more an offer and through those few words he can tell not having him up there wasn't her initial idea, probably took some convincing from some other relatives. It wasn't his father's either. They might've not got along but he wouldn't have gone so far as to put in his will My son James Buchanan Barnes will not speak at my funeral. Bucky lets out a sharp breath of air though his nose, amused at the idea of that.
"Okay," He says.
"Okay," She says back. Then after a long pause, "See you Tuesday."
"See you Tuesday," He repeats.
She hangs up. Bucky looks at the paper he was writing on before the call, scratches out some lines, thinks for another minute, and crumbles what he has into a ball. He takes out a new paper and starts writing fresh.
Tuesday comes and it goes as well as it could. People are pleasant to him, or as pleasant as they could be. They don't ask him about his life, or himself really, just offer their condolences.
The service goes smoothly. He gets up to talk. He tells two stories. One how when he was a kid, maybe 7 or 8, he'd always be in his dad's workshop trying to help out. He had a folding ruler but Bucky didn't know it was a folding ruler, just thought it was a regular one. The folding ruler would cut off to fold at every 7 inches. He'd play a trick on Bucky making him think he was inches taller by folding the ruler at Bucky's height and reading off the number closest to the next half foot. Bucky wouldn't believe so he'd tell him to feel above his head to see if he was lying and sure enough Bucky felt nothing.
"So I was walking around, not even double digits, thinking I was 10 feet tall," Bucky laughs and others along with him. "My dad made me feel that." He says. He doesn't mention how as soon as he reached his preteens he was knocked down foot after foot , until he barely felt 10 inches in his father's eyes. He doesn't because that will be cruel. His dad was many things but he's not sure he'd deserve that and he looks at his mom sobbing in her seat on the pew and he knows she wouldn't deserve it either.
The next story he tells of how he was in early high school and his dad caught him skipping school. But he wasn't skipping to 'be an asshole', a phrase which Bucky does say out loud in his speech in a room full of uptight churchgoers. He realizes what he said and swallowed hard hoping no one heard him but he was met instead with laughter again so he breathes a sigh of relief.
"Anyways like I said I wasn't doing to be an...to be a bad kid," Bucky stops himself from saying the word again.
"I was in love," Bucky laughs. "Or as in love as you can be at 14," He hears some laughs again.
"I had um taken one of my dad's hats that I though was really cool and I wore it to school in a failed attempt to impress the person I though I was in love with. They laughed at me, called me cheap, said they never wanted to be with me they just wanted to see how far they could go. You see I was some bet that they lost or some game..." Bucky pauses for a moment, clears his throat.
"So I took off. I went to the mall and I was just sitting there in the food court wishing I had some money so I could buy a pretzel or a smoothie but I didn't. All the sudden I hear this grunt behind me and I turn around and it was dad. First he was mad of course. 'Why aren't you in school? Tell me right now, James! Why aren't you in school?' And I tried to think of a good excuse, or something but nothing came out. All I could think about was how the day before I had a b...I had someone who loved me and then the next day I didn't. It was the first heartbreak I had and I don't know if he could tell in my face or maybe I started to cry but finally, after what seemed like forever I managed to calm down and wait for him to yell at me some more, punish me, ground me, tell me how disappointed he was. But nothing came. He left for a few minutes and I sat there thinking what he'd tell my mom. What they'd do. How long it would be till I could see my friends outside of school again, if ever. My eyes didn't leave the table until I felt his presence over me again. When I finally got the courage to look up he was standing there, holding a strawberry banana smoothie. One for me, one for him. He gave it to me and said lets go. We went to the movies. One movie for him, one for me. He bought me popcorn and mike and ikes and we sat in the dark and watched. He took me home, made some excuse to mom why I was home early, and didn't even mention the stolen hat I wore on my head. It was the best day of school I ever had," Bucky ends lightly earning some small laughs between nose sniffling.
"I never told anyone that. We never spoke of it." Bucky looks down at the podium, not able to remember how he wanted to close this, what else he wanted to say but a sudden feeling came over him that that was enough. Nothing more needed to be said. He looks up from the podium and says a small "Thank you" before he heads back down the stairs and to his seat. His mother holds his hand and he passes her to his seat behind her.
After the service a few of his cousins invite him out after, an offer which he denies until they convince him to go. They talk, they laugh, they don't talk about his father, don't mention the stories he told or question who the person 14 year old him was in love with. They end their night promising to keep in touch and swearing they're the cool cousins. Bucky saves their number in his phone.
The next day he packs his car up, Jack and all, and heads back to the Lakehouse. Though the day before was good, reminiscing on two fond memories of his dad, the longer drive to the lake makes him think how he felt before the service, before his mom's phone call. His mind is lost again, his heart has a hole where a father's love should've been. He's mad again, mad that he never got the chance to ask his dad why he felt the way he felt about him, mad he never got answers, mad he never knew how his father truly felt about him. He wants to know what made that day at the mall different?
Despite denying it he really did want once last chance for his father to make amends, something he always wished on. But now it was too late, now he'd never know.
He doesn't want to be sad when he goes to the house, awaiting a letter he knows Steve delivered. He wants the anger to go away.
He pulls into the grass by the mailbox, smiling at the flag being up like he knew it would be.
He reaches inside and pulls out what feels to be a stack of paper. Shit how long was I gone? Bucky thinks. He looks at the stack and concludes either Steve had a fuckload to write or he tried to wrap something up in his letter. He tucks it under his arm and he brings everything inside, Jack included.
He sits down and starts reading the letter, turning the stack over in his hand. There's a lot of emotional I'm here for you, I love you type stuff. Condolences again. Well wishes that the service goes smooth and then Buck gets to what seems like the end.
So when I read what you said about your dad writing a memoir I ...did something I shouldn't have. I researched him. Or rather I made my friend research him in case you know you came up or something. Anyways, I know how you felt about him and I know how hurt you feel you never got closure. I know I shouldn't have but I also didn't think you deserved to wait 2 years to find out what you meant to him. I hope this works but I wrapped the book up in this letter so carefully pull it away?
I just should say, so you don't immediately throw this in the trash, but he...he did love you. He had a bad way of showing it but he did. And I'm not saying it'll take the pain away or the void you might feel that he wasn't there for you but maybe it'll ease it? I'm sorry again. I hope I didn't cross a line.
I love you to the end of the line.
Love,
Steve.
Bucky pulls the letter carefully from the book, wanting to keep both in tact. He looks slowly at the book, flips to the About Author just to make sure it's really him, his heart still stops at the familiar face. He opens the book carefully and starts flipping through the pages. He gets to the dedication and pinches his nose as if to hide what emotions he's feeling even though he's alone. He starts to read starting from chapter 1. He reads and he cries, reads and cries.