by Marilyn Grey
"Are you coming here on your trip? There are some Batman locations here. There's Nottinghamshire, Buckinghamshire, Essex. I'd love to show you around."
"I can hear the smirk in your voice, you know."
"Not trying to hide it, my lady."
I laughed. "Well, the first person I asked to come with me ... it was my mom. So she'll be there."
"That's fine." He paused. "Who was the second person?"
"My friend Donovan. The one that was here the other day when we were on the phone."
"You said you two are close. Isn't that a little weird? I never believed friendships like that could stay platonic."
"I don't know. I guess it is a little weird. We've cuddled and stuff. He was my first kiss. He always said he would marry me, but I rejected him so many times that he gave up."
"Why did you reject him?"
"I don't know." I thought for a minute as Alistair breathed into the phone. A minute turned into another minute. Comfortable silence. Again.
Many memories with Donovan spiraled through my mind as I tried to keep up. Tons of laughter and a few not-so-fun moments of anger and tears, like the time he told me that I needed to be with him or he could never talk to me again. I didn't want to lose him, but I was still so attached to myself that I couldn't give in. So I let him go and he turned at the last minute and said, "I can't stand you, Jane." He wasn't being funny and not an ounce of sparkle shined in his eyes. He was serious. And it hurt.
But I suppose in the end he never hurt me as much as I hurt him.
"Do you love him?" Alistair interrupted.
"Everyone has always asked me this and I've always said the same thing ... I don't know what love feels like. I've been raised by parents who display this overly affectionate stuff, staring into each other's eyes and bending over backward for each other. Mom and Dad don't fight, they discuss. Donovan and I fought a lot. Not a lot, a lot. But ... enough. When we disagreed it got heated and when things leaned the slightest bit oogly googly romantic I backed off. I didn't like it."
"Maybe you love him, but you just don't know it because you're expecting it to feel like what you imagine your parents to experience."
I pictured Mom and Dad in my head, talking in those sweet voices reserved only for each other. And both of them not being able to handle more than thirteen hours apart.
"I don't know," I said. "I'm eighteen. What do I know about love anyway?"
"How old were your parents when they met?"
I smiled. "Seventeen."
"Well, there you have it. Age doesn't matter so much, now does it?"
"I guess not."
"So maybe you love him." His voice turned down for the night. Quiet, relaxed. I pictured him under his blankets, one arm behind his head, phone in the other hand.
"Maybe." I inhaled and exhaled loudly. "I don't like thinking about it. Someone told me that you'll just know when it happens. You won't have to think about it. I wish that were true because I don't like this thinking stuff."
"Don't think then. Just experience him and see what happens." He paused. "I think it's true. When you know, you know." His voice trailed off into a sleepy row of words I couldn't understand, then he whispered, "It's easy. I knew I'd love her." He mumbled more nonsense. "Don't have to know to feel."
"Alistair?" I whispered. "Are you sleep talking?"
"Every piano has a key."
"Huh?"
"For them to find it."
"Alistair?" I held the phone away and laughed.
"Even Beethoven couldn't hear, but he could feel."
I stopped laughing and held on to those words. Maybe I was the opposite. Maybe I could hear, but not feel. Think, but not know.
I wanted to feel.
To know.
"Alistair," I said again.
"Jane."
"I'm gonna go now, okay?"
"Love you too. Goodnight."
I stared at the phone. What?
Did he mean that?
The phone made a weird sound. The Skype call was still on, but now the video was up. My heart raced and I had no idea why. All I could see was a candle flickering on a nightstand. A tea cup sat next to it, along with his iPad and The Killing Joke Batman comic book.
He rustled.
My pulse quickened so much it made me nauseous. I should had ended the call, but I couldn't stop looking at my screen. He moved again. The phone moved. For a second I couldn't see anything, then I saw his bare chest, covered in tattoos, rising and falling in the candle light. At this point any decent girl would've ended the call, but I guess I wasn't decent. I watched. And I found myself next to him, my arm draped over his chest as the candle lit our bodies.
I imagined his arm around me as his fingers ran up and down my arm. My ear against his heart, there between the two tattoos I couldn't make out.
I moved my head as though it would help the phone show me his face. I so wanted to see his face.
He twitched.
I jumped and my heart almost fell out of my chest.
Must've been one of those dreamy twitchy things. He didn't move after that.
Poor guy was so tired when we talked. It was only 7:24pm in my room, plenty of light still coming from the window, and it was already tomorrow where he slept.
The curtain that separated my bedroom from the outside world thrust open and Zoe flew inside.
I screamed.
She stopped and looked at me, her eyes nervously darting around the room. "Sorry, I just have to talk to you. Oh. My—"
"Zoe." I held up my hand. "I'll meet you downstairs."
"Jane, I think Donovan and I might be getting back together. He totally touched my arm today. I mean, it was quick, but I saw him when I was kinda sorta like driving down his street fifteen times today, and he went to the gas station so I followed. I'm like in shock because I was pumping and he talked to me and touched my arm. That's gotta mean something, right? I mean ... right?"
"Tell her not to be daft," his voice came from my phone.
"Who's that?" Zoe pointed.
I stared at the screen. His face, just ever so unshaven and tired, stared back at me. The candle was to his right, casting shadows on the left side of his face for this dramatic, dare I say ... sexy look.
"Who is that?" Zoe said louder.
"It's...."
"Me. It's me, Jane." He smiled.
"Uh-huh. It's Me," I said to Zoe. "It's just Me."
He smiled, laughed a little. I could still see the top of his chest. My eyes darted toward my own reflection to see what he saw, then I moved the phone so my little Skype image looked better.
And I realized I cared. I actually cared what he thought of my looks. What the hell was happening to me?
"I should go to bed." He hadn't stopped smiling. "And you should talk to your friend."
I nodded, trying to savor the image of his messy hair and the slow blink of his eyes as sleep called his name.
"Goodnight, Jane," he whispered.
"Night," I managed to say before Skype ended our call.
I fell back into my bed and held the phone to my chest.
"Um ... what was that?" Zoe said as my other hand fell to my face.
I covered my eyes with my fingers and shook my head. "I have no idea." I laughed. "Wow. I ... I have no idea what that was."
Chapter 24
So, a wee tad of a predicament. Alistair and I planned to meet in England and then Mom cancelled on me because Dad got sick and she felt like it was a sign to stay with him. It didn't upset me. Honestly, being across the ocean scared her, she just didn't want to admit it. A different time zone from Dad? Yeah. Nightmarish for her. So ... now Donovan was my traveling buddy and that would make for an interesting visit with Alistair. So interesting that I wasn't interested in going anymore.
Han came back from Korea and Donovan didn't tell me. Neither did she. But I could tell.
I knew as I cooked dinner for Don and Autumn that he wasn't actually with us. His mind was s
omewhere else. Thinking of her probably. So unusual for him. After a breakup Don would find another girl within weeks. I got used to his dating patterns only to be shaken up by Han.
"Got a new girlfriend yet?" I joked with him.
Autumn turned from the dough she was shaping into dinner rolls. He looked over at her, then me, with that annoyed look on his face.
"Well, it's only normal for you," Autumn said, turning back to the rolls. "How many girls have you gone out with now? Eight thousand? Or was it nine?"
"Technically it was seven thousand," he said. "And I'm afraid that's where it's going to end."
I threw a few potatoes into a pot of water and ignored that.
"So, Jane's been talking a lot to Alistair. She thinks he's sexy."
I chopped and tossed more potatoes into the pot, still ignoring.
"I'm sure he is," Donovan said. "When do we get to meet him?"
"Never." I dropped the last few potatoes and turned the heat up on the stove, then wiped my hands on my jeans and turned to him. "I was supposed to meet him in England during this trip, but I don't know if I can do that with you there. Kinda weird."
He smiled. "I can go out alone for a night."
My phone beeped from the kitchen counter where it sat on top of a huge container of coconut oil. I picked it up and froze in place. My hands trembled as I stared at the screen.
"What?" Autumn said, leaning toward me and reading the notification. "No way."
I set the phone on the kitchen table as though it were a bomb, and slowly backed away.
Donovan raised his eyebrows like Jim always did in The Office. "Want me to read it for you?"
I nodded as Autumn glanced from me to him over and over again.
He slid the phone toward himself and raised his eyebrows again. "Welp, there we have it." He peered up at me. "You're sure?"
I nodded.
"Okay, then." He clicked a few buttons and cleared his throat. "Hi Jane, It took me a long time to email you back and I'm sorry about that. I don't check my email very much and when I read this I wasn't sure how to respond. Do Anna and Laurence know you emailed? I don't know what to say or how to answer your questions, but I'll try." Donovan looked up at me as I bit my nails. I nodded and he went on, "I guess the reason I had Anna raise you instead is because she raised me and I trusted her. I'm not like her at all, even though we were raised by the same people and I just knew she was more responsible." Donovan stopped again. Autumn looked at me. I nodded, he inhaled and continued, "Let's see ... you also asked how old I was when I got pregnant. I was fourteen when I was raped and I know who the father is, but I'll let Anna tell you about that. Anyway, I'm sorry if this upsets you. Anna always told me she would keep it a secret because I pretty much begged her. She never breaks promises. I wish I was more like her. So ... Oh, your last question. You asked if I named you before they adopted you. Yes I did. I named you Jane Elizabeth Kelley and when Anna took you they only changed the last name and then decided to change your middle name at the last minute. Anna said you seemed more like a Maryanna than an Elizabeth. Anna thought I would come back one day, but my life isn't the best. I hope you understand. I'm in rehab again right now and I don't know if it would be a good idea to meet in person. I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, that's why I gave you to Anna and Laurence. I knew they wouldn't hurt you like I would. I'm sorry, Jane. I was so young, but I think about you all the time and Anna sends me pictures. I don't know what else to say...."
Donovan slid the phone back toward me, clasped his hands on the table, and stared at the phone. Autumn also stared at it. And me.
My real mother was my mother's little sister? My aunt?
Raped?
Autumn squeezed me into her arms and kissed my cheek. "I love you, Jane." She squeezed harder. "And yes, Jane. Looks like you've been Jane all this time after all."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Donovan mouth, "Don't joke right now," and I almost laughed, but I couldn't. My mind was still fixated on the words he read. Reeling through them over and over, trying to make sense of it all. Why didn't Mom tell me she had a sibling? That I was the result of a crime? That my mother spent her life in rehab without anyone to help her?
I wanted to help. I wanted to meet her. Maybe if she saw me it would help. Or maybe it would just remind her of her own pain. I didn't want that.
"Maybe you should call your mom," Donovan said.
"Yeah," I said. "I'll probably visit. I don't want to do that over the phone."
"Don't shove it inside, okay?" he said. "Deal with it. If you need anything you know Autumn and I would do anything for you."
"As long as Han isn't around." Autumn smiled. "Donovan, go find her, would you? You're reminding me of a lost puppy dog. Or you could have this fine Jane Austen right here." She waved her hands in front of me. "She comes with nerdy Batman shoes, shirts, pants, belts, and decor. You'll love her."
"Tempting." He stood and walked over to us, then pulled me into his chest. "But unfortunately this one doesn't let people love her. Poor Alistair will find out soon."
I pulled away. "That was a jerkish thing to say right now, Don."
"Sorry." He took my hands and looked right into my eyes. "I'm here if you need me, but it's true ... you try to handle everything on your own and you push people away when they love you."
"I don't push you away." I snapped my hands from his. "I don't push anyone away. You just say this because I never kissed you back. I never let romance in, Don. That's different than love."
"Not when you romantically love someone."
"I didn't romantically love you."
"Oh, shit," Autumn said. "The potatoes are over-cooked and looks like you two are gonna start boiling too."
"You pushed me away the other day. I was just looking out for you. As a friend. No romance."
"Please go, okay?" I felt the tears coming. "It's too much."
"I'm trying to be here for you. Just let me for once."
"It's true," Autumn said. "You've always pushed him away when he tries to love you even like a friend."
"I'm not leaving." Don crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. "I'm too hungry for that anyway."
I shook my head and sighed. "Fine." I turned back to the counter and started dicing up an onion. "Just don't talk to me for a while. I need to think." The onion juice dropped on my fingers and its potency seriously made my eyes sting. Good excuse, I thought. It'll hide the tears.
"Want me to stay the night?" Autumn said as she draped her purse over her shoulder. "I can if you need someone here."
"It's really not a big deal," I said. "I'll be fine. Seriously."
"You always say that." She sighed. "I don't believe you."
"I'll be fine. It's fine."
She closed her eyes and scrunched her lips toward her nose. "Okay. Call me if you need me."
Donovan stood next to me. Hands deep in his pockets. We listened as Autumn's footsteps disappeared down the steps. The back door opened and closed.
And he turned to me, moved the hair from my eyes, and tapped my nose. "This gets red when you're trying not to cry."
I shook my head. "It'll be okay."
"It will. Yes. It always is. But will you be okay?"
"I think so."
"You really want me to go?"
I nodded.
Zoe was at the beach with her family and he knew I'd be alone, but I needed to be alone. I'd be okay. Mom probably waited too long to tell me the truth knowing I wouldn't have been able to handle it at a younger age. But now ... I thought I could. I believed in myself.
Until he closed the front door.
I finally collapsed on the floor and let the rib-hurting, stomach-twisting sob fest begin. I rocked on my knees with my face in my hands. Tears didn't fall. They poured. And poured.
The door flung back open, banging against the wall. His body knelt beside mine and the warmth of his chest against my cheek soothed me. It really did. His hands cradled me
with strength and gentleness all at the same time as my wet face soaked into his shirt. He kissed the top of my head and ran his fingers through my hair. I cried until it was all out of me. Every last drop. It felt so good to let him love me. And we stayed like that. Right there on the living room floor. Forever.
Chapter 25
I hate crying. And I have a lot of reasons for it. One, the next day you wake up with a migraine. Two, it never really seems to change anything. Three, it opens the dam for more crying. And I hate crying. I tried to avoid reasons to cry, but sometimes it just happened.
I woke up around sunrise with Donovan curled up on the other side of the bed. Snoring. All too familiar of a sight. I remembered back to the time our families went on vacation together and we slept in the same room. Probably the summer before third grade. He didn't snore then, but he popped up randomly and had conversations that made no sense. Completely freaked me out as a kid and he didn't remember anything about it when he woke up. Every now and then he'd still do that. Shoot straight up and talk to you like he was awake, only it rarely made sense and he definitely wasn't awake.
I tapped his shoulder and made him turn toward me.
He rubbed his eyes. "Morning, Jazz. You doing okay?"
"Don't you need to work with your dad today?"
"Oh, man." He pulled the blanket over his head. "I hate plumbing."
"Well, it's a job for now and your dad's expecting you."
"Yeah, I know."
Birds chirped on the window ledge as their silhouettes danced on the shades. He kept the blanket over his head and within a few seconds began to snore again. I poked his shoulder about six times until he flipped the blankets off and sighed.
"Doesn't it feel better to cry and get it out?" he said, still groggy.
I nodded, but I guess it was another lie because I honestly felt like crap after that. But it's okay. At least I could visit Mom and Dad without the emotional volcano bubbling inside.
I planned on leaving after breakfast and a shower. I half-dreaded it though. But really wanted to start facing things head on instead of avoiding all odd and conflicty type situations. Is conflicty a word? If not, it should be.
