by Sue Seabury
Kyle.
“Hey, Jane,” he called through a crack in the door. “My mum’s here.”
Oh god. I could not face him like this, let alone his mum. I didn’t answer, hoping he would go away.
He didn’t.
“Jane,” he called, opening the door wider. “I know you’re in here.”
My nose was running. I sniffed. “How do you know?”
“Well, there’s the telltale evidence of you speaking to me now. But besides that, I watched you go in, and I watched you not come back out.” Okay, so that did not require a lot of brains to figure out.
He opened the door all the way.
I sniffed again, not having any tissues handy. “I don’t feel well,” I said, hoping the ten-watt light bulbs were helping to disguise my face.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said again. I wished he would stop it because it was making it very difficult for me to stay mad at him.
“Why don’t you just go?” I asked, water droplets dangerously close to leaking out of my eyes again.
“C’mon,” he said, walking into the bathroom. “It’s Valentine’s Day and it’s cold outside and you don’t want to be stuck here any longer and you don’t want to walk home either. Let me give you a lift,” he said, cleverly sidestepping the fact that he was not the one driving.
Which only reminded me that my former boyfriend could drive and was probably out driving right now.
I felt a certain coolness in a vertical line on my cheeks.
Oh god.
Kyle went into a stall and got me a wad of toilet paper. I snatched it from him and quickly mopped up the excess moisture. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
Kyle shrugged. “It’s just a restroom.” Then he started looking around. “It’s a lot tidier than the gent’s, though, I’ll give you that.” He sat next to me on the radiator and nodded approvingly at the cleanliness of the girls’ room.
It was all so absurd, I laughed a little. It came out as a half-sob since I was still all choked up with snot. I wiped my face again. “Okay, well, this is where the tour ends. I guess we shouldn’t keep your mum waiting.”
Kyle smiled at me and looked like he was about to take my hand, so I folded my arms up tight under my arm pits. I got a ring caught in a loop of my sweater which allowed Kyle the time to catch up and gallantly open the door for me. Pretending the door had opened automatically, I marched out without acknowledging him. Also, I didn’t want him to see me struggling to unhook my ring and offer to help. The very last thing I needed was for him to get his hands anywhere near my boobs, even if they aren’t as exciting as Mirabelle’s.
Strange but true scientific fact: Snowflakes form when the temperature inside a cloud falls below freezing. Ice crystals bump into each other and stick, forming a unique snowflake.
My heart felt like it had ice crystals forming in it, but not the kind that form pretty snowflakes. More like the kind that happen when you go out and die alone on the tundra.
It wasn’t grit in my lenses. Snow had dusted the ground while I had been giving Kyle a tour of the girls’ room. It was very pretty. Between that and the crisp air, it was like maybe nature was trying to help me wipe the slate clean.
But I wasn’t in the mood to wax poetical about any natural beauty on this day if the sign was going to be so ambiguous. How do I know that it didn’t include erasing my boyfriend entirely from my slate?
Eyeballs prickling once more, I dropped the door on Kyle and marched purposefully toward a vehicle waiting at the curb. I wanted to get to the car first so I could get a strategic position in the back seat where I would be hidden from his mum. If I could do that, I might make it home with a few vestiges of pride.
Following the rules of my usual luck, it didn’t work out the way I planned. Kyle insisted that I sit in the front, seconded by his mum. I was already half-way into the back of the car so I had to get out again. My bag, which got snagged on the lever that releases the front seat, suddenly slid off. I tumbled backwards and slipped on the snow, falling straight into Kyle who had to put his arms around me to keep us both from hitting the ground.
Eyelids brimming as I waited for him to climb in, I got angry at the weather for not being cold enough to freeze salt water. I said hello to his mum without looking at her and then sat with my head facing rigidly straight forward, as if our safety depended upon it.
While it was nice of Kyle to put his mouth to good use for once and explain to his mum that I wasn’t feeling well, I still not opposed to giving him a knuckle sandwich to chew on for the way he had used that same mouth to screw things up with Ned.
“Oh, love, I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like to stay at our house till your mum can come get you? You can wrap up on the sofa and watch some telly and I’ll fix you up a nice cuppa. How does that sound, yeah?”
Kyle’s mum was definitely from some other country. Whether or not it was also an island was uncertain, since technically even Australia is one. But I wasn’t in the mood to engage in idle geographical chitchat right now.
These two were just killing me with kindness, so I had to be firm. All I really wanted was my own couch and telly and cuppa, whatever that was. If I couldn’t have Ned, lavender-scented laundry and jazzy music on the weather channel were all that I needed.
I didn’t tell them this, however. Even if I wasn’t ever planning on dating Kyle, there was no reason to have his nice family thinking I’m weird.
Although I would have liked to spring out of their car before it came to a full stop, I thanked Kyle’s mother politely and mumbled something to Kyle. I hope neither of them were listening too closely because I cannot be absolutely certain it didn’t contain obscenity.
Then, since they were so gosh-derned nice and insisted on waiting until I got inside, I had to pay extra attention to the steps so I didn’t slip again and end my interaction with them in maximum humiliation.
Strange but true scientific fact: Although it weighs less than a pound, the human heart pumps an average 2000 gallons of blood more than 60,000 miles each day. That is more than twice the circumference of the earth.
As I shut the door behind me, I was shaking so hard, I found I was unable to make it down to the basement where my therapeutic laundry pile awaited me and collapsed on the living room couch instead.
I lay there, my body numb and yet pulsing. It was like what I would imagine a person might feel after being electrocuted.
Some time went by. The front door opened. An ice age may have passed, or it might have only been twenty minutes. In my current state, I really couldn’t say. The one thing I did know immediately was the identity of the intruder. The heel clicks gave her away.
All I can say is, she had some nerve showing her face here so soon after insisting how busy she was. The acid comments I was about to impart on that subject were washed away by the cold fear that the school had already contacted her regarding my run-in with Mrs. Rochel (RWR).
All vital signs stopped as I listened for what I dreaded was going to be a pronouncement that would affect the rest of my life.
“So, what’s Kyle’s mom like?”
Anger, hatred, disgust, the full array of negative emotion coursed through my body. In 0.5 seconds, my heart went from a frozen block to a lit bomb ready to burst from my chest. Worries of school suspension evaporated. I could only stare in disbelief, unable to comprehend her callousness in the face of the biggest calamity of my life. Her cold-heartedness galvanized me into an upright position. I even broke my resolution to never speak to her again, but this was important.
“Mom. I was supposed to go out with Ned today.”
“Oh, yes, well, is he coming to pick you up later?”
“No. He isn’t,” I replied through gritted teeth.
Clueless mother of mine was starting to catch on. “Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened! Kyle happened! He kissed me right in front of Ned! Ned was so furious he took off without even listening to me! Then your p
recious Kyle had the nerve to ask me out on a date!”
I hadn’t really wanted to give Mom the whole scoop, it just sort of came out.
“First of all, young lady, there is no call for shouting at your mother. Second, it sounds like Ned is overreacting.”
Long have I suspected my mother of having more in common with the tin man than just helmet hair. I now had confirmation that she had no heart at all when she asked, “So, are you going to go out with Kyle?”
“Mom!” Then lowering my voice, “No, I am not going anywhere with that creep.” I escaped up the stairs.
Although my exchange with Mom had not been satisfying to say the least, it did make me think. Maybe Ned had overreacted and therefore maybe he was already over it.
I ran to the phone in my parents’ room for some privacy since Mom would soon be busy in the kitchen brewing something awful for dinner. A few tears squeezed out of my eyes thinking of the fabulous dinner I was sure Ned and I would have been sharing. I had to put a stop to that quick. I absolutely could not cry over the phone, especially not if I got one of Ned’s parents.
I gulped down some air. My hands shook as I tried to dial. With the way my day was going so far, I knew that this would be the day his dad would answer. But Robin Jane must be brave in all types of emergencies. Clearing things up with Ned was more important than having to exchange a few words with some super-high-power finance guy. I added the digits in Ned’s phone number and then multiplied them to calm myself. I did it out loud to make sure my voice was steady.
The phone was ringing.
It rang.
And rang.
Someone picked up. My heart stopped.
The answering machine.
All the blood drained out of my heart at once, if that is possible. I replaced the receiver. A few more beads of water escaped my eyeballs. Maybe it was time to remove the contacts.
But if I did that, it meant definitely admitting defeat about my date tonight.
More saline drops, and some difficulty breathing. The reaction of my body’s autonomic nervous system to this crisis would have made an interesting study if it hadn’t been happening while I was supposed to be out on a big date.
I called back every twenty minutes. On my third attempt, a real person picked up. My heart stopped again. This can’t be healthy even in a person so young as I.
“Hello,” the voice singsonged. Ned’s mom.
“Hi, Mrs...Harley. It’s Jane. Is Ned there?” My voice was shakier than I wanted. I should have recited a few more geometry formulas before making the call.
“Why no, isn’t he supposed to be out with you?”
“Oh, yeah, we had a little argument, I mean misunderstanding...” I made myself shut up. I absolutely did not need to blather the details to any more people.
As I was trying to figure out what to say that didn’t make me sound like a pathetic loser and/or turn the conversation toward possible careers in the fashion field, I heard a sound that made me forget all selfish thoughts. It was the doorbell.
“Oh, let me go, Harley. I hear the door now. Maybe that’s him. Bye!” I hung up without waiting for her to reply. Not the smartest thing to do when you want a person to hire you, but it was too late to worry about future employment options. I bounded down the stairs, hoping my true destiny awaited.
What awaited me at the door was not my true destiny. At least, I hoped it wasn’t.
It was Diana with a tray of brownies. In an extremely unflattering shirtwaist dress in the absolutely most unflattering shade of orangey-red and knock-off sneakers for heaven’s sake. The girl who can’t remember to bring them for gym half the time promenades about town like this? I need to have that fashion consultation with her, stat.
“Hey, Diana.”
Diana smiled expectantly. “Hello, Jane. Is Trey at home?”
Oh, brother. I couldn’t even smile at my own pun. “I’m not sure. I just got here myself.” Even though I had not mentally checked into the house until a few minutes ago, it was odd I hadn’t registered any of the usual Trey noises, such as his snuffling around the pantry like a truffle pig.
“Well, can I come in?”
“Oh, sorry, of course,” I moved out of the way. “Maybe he’s in the basement.”
He was there, on my laundry pile. Well, technically they’re his clothes, but he’s too lazy to move them, so I consider them to part of my lumbar support system. A sickish wave washed over me as I wondered if he had overheard the scream session I had had with Mom. I waved Diana off to the excitement of watching a basketball game with Trey in the basement and went up to my room.
It did not cheer me up at all to think that my contour pile of laundry was being wasted on one poorly dressed girl who was imagining that she was on a Valentine’s Day date with my dorky brother who was probably totally unaware of this fantasy.
I lay on my uncontoured bed and tried to figure things out. Most important question: how dire was the situation with Ned? I hoped he was just driving around, blowing off steam and not out picking up a one night stand to drown his sorrows in and from whom he would contract some incurable illness.
I pictured myself as Jane Nightingale sitting loyally beside him as he lay on his deathbed, listening with great forbearance as he apologized profusely for his mistake. Wiping his sweaty brow, Jane Nightingale reminded him gently not to jump to conclusions about things like a silly kiss at a locker and how it definitely wasn’t worth catching deadly diseases over.
I was being ridiculously melodramatic, but the whole thing was ridiculous. I, Jane Grey, who had never even been kissed by a boy as of September of her freshman year of high school now had two boys battling over me. I hoped Ned would do battle for me. Images of pistols at thirty paces filled my mind. Ned would be quite striking in a top hat and tails, but with that lazy eye, Kyle would probably be the better shot.
Fantasies of jousting matches, rescues from high towers and shoot-outs in tumbleweed strewn towns lasted until Mom called me down for dinner.
Diana was still there, and apparently staying, although there were some distinctly uncomfortable looks crossing her face. Trey even seemed a little ill at ease, which was unusual for him. I shuddered to think what Mom had cooked up as a Valentine’s Day ‘treat’ and felt depressed all over again about the great dinner I was missing out on with Ned.
“I’m sorry it’s not very exciting,” my mother disclaimed. “Your father has a meeting tonight and I wasn’t really expecting anyone else to be around.”
Using my magical laser contacts, I incinerated my mother for her insensitivity about my lost date. But when she rematerialized with a platter of spaghetti and meatballs, I allowed her to live. Even though it was fabricated from turkey or some other low-fat, unpopular animal that doesn’t taste nearly as good as the stuff with all the cholesterol and she had combined it with chewy whole grain pasta, it did the trick. I definitely felt calmer.
Mom made a big deal over Diana’s brownies, although I could see she was calculating how much butter went into them and how little she thought that Diana needed the second one.
Okay, so maybe I was thinking the same thing after she scarfed down more than her fair share of truffles that morning.
Thoughts of truffles reminded me of Ned. My throat closed up.
Diana can have all the junk food she wants.
Scooping up his fourth or fifth brownie - it’s hard to keep track when a person eats that fast - Trey jumped up from the table and mumbled through half-chewed brown goo, “I’m going over to Matt’s.”
There is such an annoying double standard in this house. Mom cleared her throat and stared at him significantly but did not take him to task the way she would have if I had been the one trying to pull that with a guest in the house.
Trey of course is impervious to hints. He didn’t even wipe his mouth. He merely swallowed before saying, “Thanks for the brownies, Diana. See ya at school.”
Mom got up and followed Trey out to the kitchen. I heard
her say, “Turn around, young man,” but I didn’t have time to eavesdrop on that conversation because I calculated there were fewer than ten seconds between now and the moment when Diana would explode into tears.
Even though it was time to peel the scales from her eyes about Trey, I didn’t want her to humiliate herself in front of him. I had to get her away from Mom too. The last thing I needed right now was to get caught in the middle of an anti-man rant.
Even with her own heart breaking in two, Robin Jane never forgets the feelings of others. I said quickly, “You want to listen to some music in my room?”
She nodded, barely holding it together. I pushed her up the stairs and kicked the door shut just as the first sob escaped. Diana looked like her knees were giving out on her. Shoving aside a stack of magazines on the bed, I made room so she could sit down. I deftly sprinkled a few mismatched socks over them so I didn’t have to hear an encore of her thoughts on the exploitation of women in the media.
Diana’s blubbing was getting louder. There was a record on the player. It’s nice that my dad not only buys modern music, but allows me to store his collection in my room. I put the needle down and turned the volume up.
It might have been wiser to scan the title first. It was Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart. Not the best choice in this situation, especially the way it started with, “Turn around...”
Diana practically screamed. Then she stopped, her attention arrested by something on the wall. Sniffing, she nodded with her chin. “Did Ned make that?”
I turned my head to see what she was talking about. Ned’s oil painting.
“Turn around...” came the voice over the player.
Diana went into full banshee wail. I cranked the volume up to max and joined her.
A funny thing happened somewhere in the middle of the song. I stopped crying and started singing along. It was more like yelling along, but it dried up Diana’s tears too. Our eyes met and we were even able to smile a little. When we sang the final “total eclipse of the heart,” we weren’t totally out of harmony with each other.
