When I Was Jane

by Theresa Mieczkowski

  Merde. I wanted to be there when you saw her.

  “She isn’t going to rest until we’re in love, you know,” Jason says while we wait for the elevator. “The woman is a maniacal romantic. She’s going to make it hard for you.”

  “Why will it be hard for me?”

  “Because you seem determined not to like me.” Placing his hand on my back, he guides me in and selects the button for the ground level. Once we get to our floor, he guides me out of the elevator and down a long hallway past a security desk. I hobble alongside him and wonder how much longer the walk will be.

  I stop to adjust the pads on my crutches. “God I’m tired of this.”

  “I can get you a wheelchair if you’d like.”

  I glare at him. “Absolutely not. Your mother bought me some pretty magnificent heels—among other things—so I need to get strong enough to walk in them.”

  He grins. “What kind of other things?”

  “All sorts of things that shy Audrey apparently would never think of wearing that actually suit me pretty well.”

  Jason’s eyebrows lift. “Well that would certainly make getting to know you as Jane a lot more interesting.”

  ~21~

  I’m finally cleared to go away the last week of August. After weeks of painful daily physical therapy, my leg is finally strong. An ugly scar remains, but I keep telling myself I can deal with that later. I’ve become reinvigorated from the weight training and have begun yoga with my physical therapist. After many months of being confined to beds and crutches, having the freedom to walk slowly around the neighborhood with Daisy or go gently from floor to floor in the house is nothing short of miraculous to me. I miss having Dottie here every day, but she visits twice a week and sleeps over sometimes during Jason’s long shifts.

  Jason and I have settled into a much better place. Though I’m still living in the solarium for now, we’ve managed to find a way to get to know one another during his off weeks. Having him home for seven days and then away at the hospital for seven days has been an interesting way to begin dating. Just when we begin to get close enough to start feeling things for one another, off he goes again for a week.

  We always spend the evening before his shift drinking wine together on the back patio, red for him and white for me. It’s become a little tradition for us, and I’m getting more and more used to being part of an “us”.

  Seeing the way Daisy reacts to Jason and me being together fills my heart with more joy than I’m able to understand. There are times when she’ll sit between us during a movie holding both of our hands, repeatedly asking if we’re going to stay that way. She needs me to tell her more and more that I’m never leaving, that I’m still her mother, and that there aren’t going to be any more disasters. Her reaction to my accident reminds me of how one views a Monet painting. The farther away she gets from it, the more she can see the complete picture, and I think she’s just now realizing how serious it was.

  Sometimes when Jason is away at the hospital, Daisy stays in my bed and we greet in the morning giggling and singing. I don’t remember ever knowing happiness like this could exist, so when the voice inside my head wonders about all the secrets Jason has yet to tell me, I shake it away and tell myself that I’m happy, and that’s all that matters now. It’s easy to do when I’m with her.

  I’ve begun to realize I’m falling in love with Jason and wonder if he feels the same way about me. He never mentions anything about our relationship. He holds my hand and lets Daisy see us kiss and hug one another, but aside from that he’s been a perfect gentleman, waiting, as he once told me, for me to look at him in a way that will show him how I feel. I try to make myself look that way, try to let him see that I’m beginning to accept whatever life we can make for ourselves, but so far he either hasn’t seen it or hasn’t wanted to.

  I find I can go days without thinking about Audrey, without wondering what secrets could have been written in the journals with the pages missing. I know I could search for her boxes and find the memories to investigate, but I don’t want to. I’m too busy enjoying living, as my mother-in-law would say.

  And so it was decided that Jason and I would take a weekend away. Decided by Vivienne, of course, who was still clicking her tongue at the idea of me sleeping in a guest room and concocted an excuse to take Daisy for a few days. “Take her to the inn, Jason,” she had said one night over dinner. “Teach her to sail again.” And that was it. Jason and I were packed for a long weekend and booked in adjoining rooms at the Hawthorne House in Massachusetts, favorite local getaway of the Gilbert family, where I would get to sail and walk and shop and, if Vivienne got her way, finally wear the lingerie she’d bought me.

  Now he drives us down the expressway as I choose the music, and it occurs to me I have absolutely no idea what he likes. I don’t remember the preferences of a man I’ve been married to for years, and I haven’t even tried to figure them out before now. I stare at his playlist and begin to panic.

  “It’s not a hard decision, Jane. Pick something you like.”

  “But I don’t know what I like.”

  “Then pick something you think you could like.”

  The problem he doesn’t understand is that I don’t want to pick the wrong thing, something that jogs a memory for him, and have to see him get that forlorn look in his eye. Something that he and Audrey may have listened to on their way to the hospital when they were having Daisy. This is the kind of thing Dr. Patel never explained to me. How to cope with the ghost of the person you used to be. Watching Jason grieve the wife he lost and wondering if he’ll ever forgive me for taking her place. I sigh and click on a random artist.

  “James Taylor. Good call.” Jason turns up the volume, singing along with every word. After a few songs he turns it down again. “Sick of this yet?”

  “Are you?”

  He smiles. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe we could just not listen to music for now.”

  He shrugs. “OK.”

  He seems so boyish to me sometimes. I often wonder if the problem between us is that he doesn’t pick up on cues very well—which could explain why he hasn’t tried to get any closer to me. Then again, it’s also possible that he simply doesn’t want to be closer to me. I look over at him drumming on the steering wheel and realize I could be severely overthinking things about a person whose only concern for the long trip we would share was whether or not I packed enough Oreos.

  “Tell me about your mom,” I say. “About how your parents met.”

  “You’re pretty captivated by her, aren’t you?”

  “She’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.” I really have to stop using phrases like this since I don’t remember meeting many people.

  Jason nods. “Everybody says that about her.”

  “I’d imagine they do. She has such a life force. I want to be better every time I talk to her.”

  “She and Audrey were very close.”

  I’m so tired of hearing things like that. I want to have my own relationships with people without wondering if I’m as important to them as Audrey was. I decide to shelve it but let him hear my frustration. “How nice for them.”

  Jason looks over at me and clears his throat. “She and Dad met in France. He was married to his high school sweetheart when he was young, and it didn’t work out. They divorced before they were twenty-five, and Dad traveled around Europe for a while trying to find himself.”

  “Your father was divorced? I’m surprised his family would allow something so scandalous.”

  “What’s so scandalous about divorce?” he asks but continues talking before I can answer. “My mother was a television actress in France. Soap operas. He fell in love with her instantly. She wasn’t as sure of him, though. It took him a long time to woo her.”

  “What didn’t she like about him?”

  “She liked him a lot. It was love at first sight, actually. But once she learned he was recently divorced, she decided he needed to work on bein
g alone for a while.”

  “Wise woman. So she was always that way? I got the impression she became really introspective after your brother died.”

  “No, she was always that way. She had a difficult life; it can make you pretty introspective. Her father was an alcoholic, not a good man, and her mother left them when she was young. She had to raise five brothers and sisters in a terrible environment with very little money. Sometimes she had to steal things so she could take care of them.” He glances over at me. “I know what you’re thinking; it doesn’t fit the image, right?”

  “I wouldn’t have expected that of her.” I immediately realize I’ve botched what I was trying to say.

  He looks at me quickly. “Of her? The way she was raised isn’t her fault. You can’t judge someone on the terrible circumstances they were in.”

  I want to explain what I mean, but he keeps going.

  “And that’s the best thing about my mother. She doesn’t consider any of it her fault. Not anymore, at least.”

  “Did she at some point?” I ask.

  “She had a hard time after she married my father, once she knew everything was going to be OK. She told me that there’s something terrifying about getting a fairy tale ending because you suddenly have everything you ever wanted and you’re scared to lose it. So when she finally got a decent life for herself, all of the issues from her past started bothering her. She’d been so busy surviving she couldn’t look at her circumstances objectively until she met my father and her life calmed down. Then she was forced to survey the damage and process it, and it was hard for her.”

  I think about the Monet paintings again. How once you step back from something, you can see it more clearly.

  “So what was the damage?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t really know the specifics. Things kind of backed up on her; she had problems. But being the person she is, she took action. She volunteered with kids who were raised in similar situations. She helped out in treatment centers so she could better understand her father’s perspective. She takes advantage of my father’s career to help others.”

  “She’s an amazing person.” I imagine that Audrey probably went to her for help a lot. I wonder what Vivienne said to her after she lost the baby and why, with someone like that at her disposal, Audrey was unable to overcome it.

  We travel in silence for a long time. Every so often Jason’s cell phone rings and he has to deal with hospital business. I find myself nodding off and rest my head against the seat.

  I wake to Jason singing quietly and turn to the window to stretch my neck. I nearly jump from my seat. “Oh my God, Jason, look!”

  He yanks the car over to the side of the road and stops.

  “The ocean,” I say, putting my hand against the glass. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Holy God. You scared me half to death. I thought we were about to get in an accident.”

  He sits holding his chest as I unbuckle my seatbelt and run from the car down a grassy hill, taking care not to put too much weight on my bum leg. My heart pounds excitedly. I just have to see it up close; I have to touch it. Large waves rise into foamy white peaks, roaring as they crash onto an empty beach. Seagulls circle overhead, squawking at one another.

  “Jane! This is private property!”

  I kick my shoes off at the edge of the grass and walk over the gritty sand to the water. Salty air blows in my face and sends my hair flying out behind me. I stare out at the horizon in complete awe. The ocean goes on forever.

  Jason comes up behind me and bends down to catch his breath. “I can’t believe you ran the entire way. What kind of physical therapy did they have you doing?”

  “It’s so beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like this before.” I turn to him. “Have I?”

  Jason looks down at the sand with the same lost expression that he always has when something like this comes up. “You have.”

  I dip my toe in hesitantly and laugh, gathering my skirt in a knot at my knees so I can wade in. “It’s not that cold.”

  “Don’t go any farther. The tide’s rushing in, and you aren’t a great swimmer.”

  I continue to walk deeper. The pebbles at the bottom feel rough on my feet. “I love the way you can feel it pulling you when the waves go back in.” I let go of my skirt, not caring if my clothes get wet. It’s very Vivienne of me, I think, to jump right in and experience the magnificence of the sea. When I’m waist deep, I turn to face him.

  “Seriously, can you please come back to the car?” Jason has to yell over the sound of the crashing waves. “It’s getting dark, and we need to check in. There’s a storm coming.”

  I spread my arms out wide and throw my head back, thoroughly enjoying my first experience in the ocean. I look back just in time to see a look of terror cross Jason’s face. Before I know what’s happening, I’m knocked forward by a tremendous force of water and pinned down as the wave rushes over me, turning me over and over again beneath the surface until I don’t know which way is up. I flail around, struggling to find the bottom to push off from.

  “Audrey!” In an instant, I’m yanked to the surface. Jason has me by the back of my shirt. He secures his arm around my chest and drags me from the water and onto the beach, cursing the entire way.

  I lie in the sand trying to catch my breath, smiling from ear to ear. I feel so alive.

  Standing above me, soaking wet, Jason furiously removes his watch and shakes out his cell phone. “What’s the matter with you?” He kneels in the sand next to me and rips my skirt all the way up to check my scar.

  “Stop it.” I yank a piece of fabric back over me.

  He pulls me closer to him and puts his ear to my chest.

  “Jason, what are you—?”

  “Quiet!” He takes my wrist and measures my pulse.

  “I’m fine,” I say, pushing him away as I try to stand up. My leg gets caught in the ripped material, and I stumble backwards to the ground.

  He leans down and grabs my arm. “You’re disoriented.”

  I yank myself away. “No, I’m not. I’m fine. I tripped. On the skirt you just tore to shreds. I’m sorry about your fancy watch and your phone.”

  “Screw my phone! You can’t swim. Is it not enough that you nearly severed your femoral artery in a car accident? When are you going to stop these antics?” He looks up at me and I see it again. The resentment in his face.

  “My antics? Screw you! My leg is healing, and I’ve never seen the ocean before. It amazed me, so what? I wasn’t going to drown in waist deep water.”

  Jason opens his mouth, but I roll my eyes and put my hand up to stop him. “Spare me the doctor knowledge about how many people drown in waist deep water,” I say, trying to catch my breath. Up to this point, I’ve never unleashed my anger on him.

  “Screw me?” He tries to hide a smile.

  “Yeah, screw you. You think you have it so hard because you’re stuck with me, don’t you? Poor you, having to bring home this disaster into your pretty life. Having to babysit her and take care of her all the time. How do you think it feels to be me?” I kick a pile of sand and march back towards the car. “I’m trying to take over for somebody I don’t even know. With people I don’t remember.”

  He follows behind me and grabs my arm. “Jane.”

  I pull away from him. “I know you’re just humoring me by calling me that. I heard you call me Audrey when you thought I was drowning. You’ll never get used to me. Admit it.”

  He bends over to pick up my shoes from the sand and hand them to me. “I was scared, OK?”

  “Scared of what? Of the weirdo living in your wife’s body who doesn’t remember ever having seen the ocean? Scared of me acting like an idiot? Scared at the thought of having to put up with my antics for the rest of your life?” I almost feel guilty for yelling at him like this since it’s clear by the look on his face he has absolutely no idea what to do with a furious woman. I laugh at him. “So you thought poor little Audrey was g
oing to drown? God, was that girl made of glass or something?”

  Jason sucks in his breath, looking like he’s just been slapped. I’ve somehow hit a nerve.

  “Honestly, I feel like poor Audrey was just this sweet little thing that everybody loved and tiptoed around all the time. Poor Audrey was so sad, poor Audrey had two nice doctors taking care of her so she was never alone. Poor Audrey!” I realize I’m getting to a point where I’m not going to be able to restrain myself. “Well, guess what? After poor Audrey smashed her fancy car into a tree, she couldn’t handle her life anymore and she checked out, leaving me here to deal with her crap. I’m not poor Audrey. I’m the one she called in to deal with everything she couldn’t. So you don’t need to worry about me drowning anytime soon, because unlike Audrey, I can take care of myself.”

  Jason stares at me in silence as I turn, shaking, and walk off towards the grass. The sun has gone down and I’m soaking wet. There’s a breeze coming in with the looming storm, and the temperature seems to have plummeted. On the road above us, cars whiz by with their headlights on, oblivious to the scene taking place below.

  Jason clears his throat. “I just can’t lose you again. I’m always terrified of that.” The pain in his voice cuts through me.

  I suddenly get it. “Is that what the problem is here? Do you not want me because I’m not Audrey or because you’re afraid to want anyone again?”

  “When did I say I didn’t want you?”

  “You don’t need to say it. You make it pretty clear.”

  He bows his head. “Then I’m more of a fool than Thomas said. I thought I was giving you time to see if you wanted to accept me or not.”

  I blink back tears. “That’s what I was doing with you.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Did you really mean what you said? That Audrey was weak and needed you to take over?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your—”

  “She was weak.” His eyes begin to fill. “It kept her from being able to see what she meant to me. Maybe you have some of that in you, too.”