A State of Jane

by Schorr, Meredith

  Claire shook her head. “Neither do I. I don't care who you bring to your apartment. With the exception of ax murderers and rapists, of course. But why did you bring him to mine?”

  “I didn't want him to know where I lived. I didn't even know his real name.”

  Wide eyed, Claire stared at me. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Before I could answer, Claire's face turned pink and she said, “Wait. You didn't want to bring a strange guy to your apartment. So you brought him to mine? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  She has a point. “I don't know what I was thinking.” I shrugged. “But nothing was stolen, no one was raped. And we used protection!” I smiled hopefully. “All's well that ends well, right?”

  Dryly, Claire said, “I'm starting to see a pattern here in your thinking.”

  “What's that?” My heart started beating faster, sensing I wasn't going to like the answer.

  “You wanted to screw some random guy. You didn't want to bring him to your apartment. You didn't want him to know where you lived. You were thinking about yourself. And only yourself. With no regard to anyone else. Seems to be your thing these days.”

  “You have Kevin. You have a baby on the way. Mom likes you better. You have everything and I have nothing.” I felt tears burning the corners of my eyes and blinked them away.

  Claire stood up and flung her pocketbook over her shoulder. Facing me, she said. “You must be kidding.”

  Sniffling, I looked up at her and said, “No. Not kidding.”

  “I think it's very convenient how you recreate history, Jane. Again, to make it all about you. Who was the one in the gifted and talented classes all through grammar school and junior high while I had to go to the Huntington Learning Center for one-on-one tutoring? Who had a nine-year love affair with practically the first boy she ever kissed while I went to the senior prom with my best gay boyfriend? Who was daddy's little prodigy while I had to intern at his law firm just to get a little attention? I have everything? Please, Jane. Get over yourself. You've been single for less than two years of your adult life. Deal with it.”

  “This is my apartment and I don't have to deal with anything.” I stood up and placed my hands on my hips defiantly.

  “Then I'm leaving your apartment.” Claire put her coat on and walked to my front door. Turning around to look at me one more time she said, “No one has the perfect life. No one,” walked out and closed the door behind her.

  CHAPTER 38

  I sat in the passenger seat of my father's Audi and rolled down the window, letting the cool breeze hit my face.

  Taking a quick sideways glance at me before looking back toward the road, my dad asked, “You hot, Pumpkin?”

  “No. Just need a little air.” I felt a bit suffocated riding to my parent's house from the train station. I wanted to be anywhere else, but my mom broke down all of my excuses for not coming home for the day. I told her I had a tentative date, thinking that would make her happy, but she said “tentative” and “definite” were not the same and if he really wanted to take me out, he'd nail down plans. Then I said I had promised to go to brunch with Marissa if my date fell through, but she said I should just invite Marissa to their house. Thinking that was actually a good idea, because my mom would be less likely to grill me about men with Marissa there, I called her but didn't hear back.

  Who was I kidding anyway? My mother would grill me about my love life with or without Marissa in attendance. Even homeland security probably couldn't protect me.

  My dad pulled up the driveway, turned off the engine and smiled at me. “Home sweet home.”

  I smiled back, “Yup,” tossed my bag over my shoulder and followed him up the multi-colored tile pathway to the front door. I smelled cinnamon. “What did Mom make?” I hoped she'd waited for me to make breakfast.

  “Mom made French Toast,” I heard her say, before she walked out of the kitchen. She wiped her hands on the midnight blue polka dot apron she was wearing over a turtleneck sweater of the same color blue and winter white pants and pulled me in for a hug. “Hi sweetheart. How nice of you to grace us with your presence.”

  I dropped my arms to my sides and mumbled, “Sorry. Been so busy lately.”

  She motioned for me to take a seat at the kitchen table. Sitting down too, she said, “For instance?”

  “Like work! Is there any coffee?”

  “Have you had any yet today? You shouldn't drink more than one cup a day or it will…”

  “Stain your teeth.” I gave her a toothy smile. “My teeth are neither yellow nor brown, Mom. And I haven't had any coffee yet today,” I lied.

  “Here's your coffee. Just the way you like it. Skim milk and one Sweet ‘n Low,” my dad said placing a cup in front of me. When my mom got up again to check on the food, he whispered, “Don't worry, I used cream and sugar.”

  I whispered back, “Thanks” and smiled softly at my dad, wondering how such a down-to-Earth, laid back guy fell for my regimented no nonsense mom. Another case of ‘opposites attract.’

  “So, how do you think you did?”

  At least he asked the dreaded question when my mom was not at the table. “Not sure.” True, since how can I be certain how I did on a test I didn't actually take?

  Joining us with the plate of French toast, my mom said, “Columbia or Queens College?”

  My dad laughed. “She can do better than Queens College. At least Brooklyn Law, right sweetie?”

  “Right, Dad.” I dug my fork into a piece of toast and dropped it into my plate. “Can you please pass the syrup?”

  “You'll have to figure out where to apply. Narrow it down to a handful of schools. Application fees are not what they used to be,” my mom said before taking a small piece of toast into her mouth.

  “It's not that expensive,” my dad said. “Better to keep her options open than apply to too few.”

  I pushed my plate away. “Can we change the subject? Is Claire coming?” We hadn't talked since we fought at my apartment and I really had no desire to see her except to bond over how annoying our mother could be.

  “Not this time,” my mom said. “Do you not like the French Toast? I know it's not as good as your gourmet breakfasts.”

  “It's fine, Mom. Yummy. Just taking a break.” I moved the plate closer to me and took another bite. I decided I just wasn't hungry anymore and listened to the sound of metal crashing against ceramic as I dropped my fork onto my plate. “Why couldn't she come?”

  “She said she was tired,” my mom said.

  “That excuse never works for me!”

  “You're not pregnant, Jane. Meet a nice man, let us spend too much money on your wedding and get pregnant. Then you can use that excuse,” my mom said, smiling as if she didn't mean it.

  I exhaled loudly.

  “Someone PMS-ing?” my mom said, attempting a joke.

  “No!”

  “What's with the temper tantrum? When you chew your lip like that I can almost picture you dragging your father all over the mall crying because you lost your favorite Ninja Turtle doll.”

  “You were so cute,” my dad said, shaking his head at me as if remembering me at six years old in pigtails and Osh Kosh B'gosh overalls.

  “And so spoiled, but leave it to your father to romanticize.” My mom looked at my dad fondly. “Your father bought you a new doll just to stop you from crying.”

  He had actually bought me two — Leonardo and Donatello. I could still remember that day and how I kept crying in my dad's arms, even after he gave me the new dolls, until I fell asleep.

  “Did that boy nail down a date?” my mom asked, evidently bored with the current topic of conversation.

  “Yes. This week,” I said. “He's taking me to BLT Prime.” If I was going to have an imaginary life, I was going to be well-fed.

  “What's his name?”

  “William,” I said without skipping a beat.

  My mom looked at me strangely. “Claire said you suggested naming the
baby William. At least I know why now! What does he do?”

  “He's in medical school.” Maybe he was. Our respective trades never came up in conversation. “Anyway, I'm not sure it's going to work out. He has a beauty mark on his lip.”

  “It's not going to work out because he has a beauty mark on his lip?” my dad asked. “It's a good thing your mother didn't feel that way about my third nipple.”

  I got up and took my plate to the sink. “No. He's just really focused on school. Not sure he has time for a girlfriend.” I turned back to my dad. “Third nipple? Really?”

  My dad winked. “Just making sure you were listening.”

  “So why are you dating him?” my mom interrupted.

  “A girl's gotta eat!” I joked.

  “Seems like a waste of time to me,” my mom said. “But tell me about him.”

  “Can we change the subject?” I asked. Like what time I can go home.

  “Again?” my mom said.

  “I don't want to talk about boys or law school. Any other topic is fine.”

  “I spoke to Mrs. Krauss. Bob and Trish are having the wedding at The Water's Edge.”

  “How nice for them.” I wanted to tell my mom that Bob-related news fell under the subject of “boys” and was supposed to be off the table, but I didn't want her to think I was jealous or give me a pep talk about how pretty I was and how I'd meet the perfect man at the right time and in the right place. She'd make me feel better for about three seconds before telling me where Bob and Trish were planning to go on their honeymoon. “So William wants to be a surgeon. Pretty impressive, huh?”

  * * *

  Later that night, I defrosted the homemade fudge I had made a few months earlier and lay in my bed watching television. I decided to avoid Lainie so she wouldn't have the chance to avoid me first. I also opened and closed the cabinets really loudly so she'd be clear that I was home but just not speaking to her. Immature, I know, but I was bored. Marissa was MIA and didn't even call to watch True Blood. I couldn't call Claire and I had no boy drama to occupy my time. I thought about calling Bethany, but she was a bad influence and I was afraid a night with her would result in me upping my “number” again. Although I felt a sense of relief that I made it through an afternoon with my parents without getting caught in my lies, and pretty impressed with how easily I spun said lies, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be forced to come clean. I needed a distraction from thinking about it but even after scrolling all 500 channels on my television, I came up empty. After eating the fudge until my stomach cramped, I brushed my teeth and settled on the best ever mode of avoidance. I shut off my light and went to bed at 9:00.

  CHAPTER 39

  As I sat on the M102 Third Avenue bus after a festive Friday night food shopping at Trader Joe's, I reflected upon my week. Work, followed by dinner, followed by television, followed by sleep. All of the above peppered by the occasional session at the gym. A pretty solitary existence all in all, but I couldn't bear concluding the week with episodes of Grimm and Blue Bloods (Both were repeats anyway). After my disastrous solo trip to Mad River, I was too afraid to go to a bar alone. I considered either food shopping or a movie but felt weird going to a movie alone on a Friday night and decided to save it for Sunday in case nothing else came up. So far, I hadn't been flooded with offers so I took out my Blackberry to check what movies were playing at the nearby Loew's theater just as my phone rang. I quickly pushed aside my wallet and hair brush until I felt my phone. I removed it from the bottom of my bag, excited that someone besides a work colleague, the cashier at Trader Joe's, or the guy at the front desk of the gym might want to talk to me. Until I saw who it was — Kevin.

  I immediately felt my heart beat at an increased rate and my mouth went dry. He was probably calling to urge me to apologize to Claire. He'd tell me she was at a vulnerable state right now and I should be the bigger person. And he'd tell me that it was pretty screwed up of me to bring a strange guy to their apartment for sex.

  I felt my face drain of color and hoped Claire hadn't actually divulged all of the details regarding that day.

  I was certain he'd make me feel horrible and I didn't want to hear it. I stared at the phone, waiting for it to go into voicemail but it didn't. I felt the color return to my face. I couldn't be expected to call him back if he didn't leave a message.

  I turned to the woman sitting next to me on the bus and smiled in relief. She smiled back at me. “Happy Friday,” I said, as I dropped my phone back in my bag.

  She opened her mouth to say something just as I heard my phone alert the receipt of a text message. I muttered, “For the love of God, leave me alone!” as I read Kevin's message: “Call me.”

  “Bad news?” The woman next to me asked.

  Still staring at my phone, I said, “Kind of. My brother-in-law is stalking me.”

  Looking at me with concern, she said, “Stalking you?”

  I exhaled deeply. “Not exactly stalking. But first he called and didn't leave a message and then he sent me a text to call him.”

  The woman, who I guessed was around the same age as my mom but either didn't use as expensive moisturizer, spent a bit too much time in the sun, or smoked, gave me a worried look, the horizontal lines on her forehead deepening. “Maybe something's wrong. Is this your husband's brother or your sister's husband?”

  “I'm not married.” Thanks for reminding me. “He's my sister's husband. He wants me to apologize to my sister.”

  “Are you not sorry for whatever he thinks you did?”

  “Not exactly,” I said, feeling my face get red. “I messed up.”

  The woman smiled. “Saying the words ‘I'm sorry’ is easy. Putting aside your pride to actually do it is the hard part.”

  I debated telling her she had a poppy-seed stuck between her two front teeth but didn't want to hurt her feelings and it was small enough that only someone sitting right next to her, like me, would even notice. “Yeah. I guess. But she's such a know-it-all. She doesn't understand me!”

  “Older sister?”

  “Yup.”

  The woman nodded. “I had one of those too. I think they're all know-it-alls.”

  At last, a kindred spirit. “I know! She's always giving me advice and acting like she's so life-experienced compared to me. We're less than two years apart in age! I'm a grown up too but just because she's married and pregnant and I'm not, she thinks my life is simple and easy.”

  Lips pursed, the woman nodded. “Your life is complicated and difficult?”

  “Compared to hers! She already found a husband.”

  “And you don't think marriage is difficult?”

  “Not as difficult as finding a husband.” I pointed out the window of the bus. “Especially in this Godforsaken city!”

  The woman laughed, flashing the poppy seed again. “May I ask how old you are?”

  “Twenty-six.” And counting.

  “I thought so. Why are you in such a hurry to find a husband? Speaking with thirty-plus years of marriage experience, I assure you marriage has ups and downs. Many downs.”

  “Yet, you've been married for thirty-plus years!” I hated when married women insisted marriage was overrated. I'd bet, if Glamour magazine surveyed one hundred married women, ninety-nine would say they wouldn't trade places with a bachelorette, despite the freedom they claimed to miss so much.

  “I got lucky, for the most part. But I didn't have the choices you had. There weren't many twenty-six year old women living on their own in the big city. This was years before Sex and The City, and twenty-somethings weren't encouraged to play the field.” Winking at me, she said, “And those who did had bad reputations.”

  “I had a long-term boyfriend and I've played the field and I gotta say, I much prefer being in a relationship.”

  “The grass is always greener, I suppose. What else do you do besides date?”

  “I'm supposed to go to law school.”

  The woman repeated, “Supposed to?”r />
  “I messed that up too,” I said, looking down at my thighs.

  “Do you want my honest opinion?”

  Only if it agrees with mine. Nodding, I said, “Sure.”

  Looking straight ahead, the woman paused for a second and then turned back to me. “I think you're way too young to be so focused on getting married.”

  “I know twenty-six is not that old. It's just…” I couldn't find the right words to explain. “I always thought I'd have my first child by thirty at the latest and at the rate I'm going, I'll still be single at thirty-five. When I was a kid, I thought everyone got married at twenty and died at a hundred. By those standards, I'm way behind schedule!”

  A light chuckle escaped the woman's lips. “While you're so worried about the future and your ‘timeline,’ your life is happening. And sweetie, you're missing it!” Staring off in the distance, the woman said, “If I was young again and living in the city, I'd see and do everything. I'd go to plays and museums, dance at the hottest clubs, dine in the trendy restaurants, and meet interesting people.” Looking at me again, she said, “It's too late for me but it's not too late for you.”

  “And I'll probably find ‘the one’ when I stop looking, right?” I asked hopefully.

  The woman laughed again. “There are no guarantees in life, sweetie. But I don't see why not. But a man won't make you happy unless you're already a happy person. Even then, he might make you miserable!” The bus pulled over to the right and the woman stood up. “This is my stop. Good luck to you!”

  I stood up to let her into the aisle and gave her a closed mouth smile. “Thanks for your advice, I appreciate it.”

  With a wave, she said “My pleasure.” She began walking toward the rear door but then turned back around to face me. “One more thing. Call your sister.” Her voice shaky, she said, “I wish I could call mine.”

  Before I could ask why she couldn't call her sister, she said, “She's no longer with us.” As if acknowledging the finality of her statement, she shrugged and with a turn of her heel, walked down the steps of the bus onto the sidewalk as the doors closed behind her.