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Joan liked going to the docks to think.
She always timed her visits perfectly so she could watch the sun dip below the horizon and revel in the vivid oranges and reds that bathed the sky. The docks were her own little safe space. Abe had been there a few times, but usually he visited earlier than her, which meant that she didn't have to encounter him most of the time.
Abe.
The gnarled wood planks creaked beneath her black combat boots. Once she had reached the end of the dock, she sat down right on the edge, the tips of her shoes touching the water. She was already relaxing a little.
Abe and Cleo.
The gentle waves lapped against the wood stakes holding up the dock. Seagulls chirped in the distance. The sun was as brilliant and striking as ever. The skies were a light peach color, scattered clouds dappling its surface.
Abe and Cleo, together. Making out in the hallways. Hanging out after school. Holding each other's hands and smiling and laughing.
Joan shook her head. She didn't need that right now. She focused on her breathing. In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
In and--
Footsteps were clicking against the wood of the dock right next to Joan. Caught off guard, she gasped quietly and turned her head to see who had approached.
JFK?
"Oh. Er, hey there, betty," he chuckled awkwardly. He looked downtrodden, like a kicked puppy. He was slumped over, his eyes were trained on the ground, and his brow was furrowed. He perched himself at the edge of the dock, like Joan.
"Uhm, hi, Kennedy," Joan mumbled uncertainly. She didn't know what to say. She returned her head to its original position, staring up at the sky.
There was a period of silence that was thick with awkwardness. Joan didn't know there'd be another visitor. She found it harder to get lost in her thoughts when there was someone right beside her, especially when that someone was JFK. Of all the people that could've visited this dock, she expected him the least.
"So," JFK said, shattering the silence, "why, er-uh, are you here?" Joan snapped halfheartedly, "None of your business."
JFK winced, making Joan feel a little guilty. The man sitting beside her was clearly troubled. He didn't deserve her usual harsh words right now.
"Sorry," she sighed heavily, "I'm just not in a very good mood." He chuckled, "Er, that's okay. I'm, uh, not doin' too well either." His voice was pretty much devoid of emotion. Joan frowned. Kennedy was normally loud and proud, speaking whatever came to mind and parading his various girls around like trophies. This seemed like an entirely different person.
"What's up with you?" Joan asked in an attempt to help. Maybe talking about his feelings would help him. She would assume that he didn't have many people to confide in. After all, he was a stud, jumping from woman to woman. He probably didn't have real friends.
"Er, ya really wanna know?" he asked hesitantly. Joan turned to him and gave her best attempt at a warm smile. "Sure. Gotta get your feelings out somehow."
JFK was staring very intently at the muddy blue water beneath his feet. "I'm, er-uh, missin' Cleo. I'm sure you've, uh, seen her with that Lincoln kid."
Joan had to hold back a laugh. "That's almost exactly my problem. I want Abe," she explained. Looks like her and JFK were a bit more similar than she had thought.
"Really? What, er, a coincidence." Kennedy grinned at her. His grin was sad. "Yeah."
The silence that followed was far more comfortable than before.
"You seriously, uh, like Lincoln? He's a chowderhead," JFK remarked. He sounded genuinely perplexed. Joan felt offended.
"Hey, he isn't that bad. He's really nice and honest and cute. Cleo's the chowderhead," she replied sharply. JFK shot her a glare. "Don't ya dare talk about my, er-uh, girl like that," he growled. Joan couldn't understand why he was so defensive over such a boring, disingenuous whore.
"Well, she isn't really your girl, now is she?" Joan retorted, a small flame of anger burning in her. No one talked bad about Abe, not on her watch.
JFK gasped, his posture stiffening. "W-Well, I'm sure that, uh, Lincoln isn't into you!" he countered heatedly. Joan could tell that she struck a nerve, but he struck her right back.
She couldn't hold back her thoughts anymore. "You think I don't know that? He dismisses me every time I talk to him. He never listens to me. He's constantly shoving his tongue down Cleo's throat. I... I already know that he doesn't feel the same. But that doesn't stop me from loving him." She got progressively quieter as her little speech went on. JFK seemed to calm down slightly.
He let out a long, heavy breath. Eventually, he said quietly, "I know that, er, Cleo is usin' me. Everyone's just usin' me. I think I'm, er-uh, lonely."
Joan chuckled. "Me too," she said.
"Wanna be, er, lonely together?" He was staring at her.
"That sounds nice."