Jane's Melody

by Ryan Winfield

  She went to her room and pulled on sweats. She grabbed her purse and jacket. She rushed out to the car, backed from the garage, and sped away without bothering to hit the remote that closed the door. She passed a roadside LED sign, blinking an amber warning that clocked her speed at twice the limit, but she blazed past without slowing. When she pulled into the ferry line, she knew she was too late. The ferry was just pulling away, its lighted windows glowing brightly against the black water that spread before her like a chasm keeping her from her lover.

  Workday commuters were lined up already in their cars, many of them with their seats reclined as they napped, and the woman at the ticket booth told her the next boat was due in thirty minutes but was already full—she’d need to pull ahead into the overflow lane and wait for the one after.

  “It’s an emergency,” Jane said. “Can’t you squeeze me on the next boat?”

  The woman shook her head. She’d heard this before.

  “You can always walk on,” she said.

  Jane turned around without paying the fare, drove up and parked her car in the lot. She walked down the passenger ramp and waited there for the next boat. She was surrounded by tired commuters, all of them dressed for work, their heads buried in cell phones, or newspapers, or anything to avoid making eye contact with those around them. It was strangely quiet for how many people there were on the platform.

  Jane looked at them and she wanted to scream. She wanted to knock their cardboard coffee cups from their hands and stomp on their phones. How dare they act like this was just some other morning? Didn’t they know that her heart had been torn from her chest? Didn’t they know that she had chased away the only man she had ever truly loved?

  Didn’t they know? Didn’t they know? Didn’t they know?

  Of course they didn’t know, she thought. Because if they knew they’d all turn and laugh at her.

  “You fool,” they’d all say.

  The ferry arrived, and two tired-looking passengers trudged off, probably coming home from a graveyard shift somewhere. Shortly after, when the announcement came for them to board, the silent commuters pushed their way onto the boat and quickly dispersed, on their way to the cafeteria, or to find some quiet corner in which to continue their solitary morning in peace. Jane went to the front of the ferry, stood near the door through which they would exit, and watched out the window as the lights of the city grew ahead out of the gray.

  The crossing seemed to take forever and a day, although the sun had not yet risen when the ferry docked.

  Jane was the first passenger off the boat, and she rushed down the terminal steps and onto the street, jogging toward the line of waiting cabs. The drivers leaned against their trunks, ready to help fares with their luggage. They all watched as Jane ran past them to the cab at the front of the line, calling breathlessly to its driver, saying:

  “Airport! Airport! Airport!”

  She must have looked like an asylum escapee, but she didn’t care. She jumped into the backseat and pulled the door closed. As the driver got behind the wheel, she leaned forward and told him one more time, in case he hadn’t heard her.

  “Sea-Tac airport. I’m in a hurry.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” he said, setting the meter and pulling away from the curb. “It’s cheaper to go Airport Way, but the freeway is faster.”

  “Take the fastest route.”

  Jane settled into the backseat and watched the streetlights fly by out the window. When he merged onto the freeway, the lights disappeared, and the cab fell into shadow, the tail-lights of the traffic ahead glowing like a thousand pairs of tiny red eyes, staring at her from the gray. She could see the whites of the cab driver’s eyes against his dark face as he glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Departures or arrivals?” he asked.

  “Departures, please.”

  “What airline?”

  “I’m not sure. Do you know which one flies to Austin?”

  He shook his head.

  “Maybe Alaska.”

  “Well, just drop me there then.”

  They drove for a while in silence.

  The cabbie turned the radio on briefly to the local news and then seemed to think better of it and turned it off.

  He glanced again at Jane in the mirror.

  “You heading to Austin?”

  “No, I’m trying to catch someone who is.”

  He nodded, as if she’d only confirmed what he’d already guessed. His eyes hit the mirror again.

  “You sure they want to be caught?”

  He asked it quietly, almost of himself, and then he looked ahead to the road as if he didn’t expect any answer from her.

  “I don’t know,” she sighed.

  He nodded and drove.

  “Love puts the eaglet out of its nest.”

  “What’s that?” Jane asked.

  “Oh, just an old saying from my home.”

  “What’s it mean?”

  “I’m not certain it even translates correctly. But it means something similar to when people say: if you love someone you have to set them free.”

  “You mean: set them free and if they really love you, they’ll come back?”

  He nodded.

  “Although I’ve heard it turned into a joke also. Something about if they don’t come back, hunt them down and kill them.”

  They were quiet for the rest of the ride, and by the time they approached the airport, the sky had grown lighter. Jane watched a jumbo jet take off, angling up sharply into the pale sky before dipping left and flying into the sunrise. The cabbie exited onto the departures ramp, circled, and pulled over at the Alaska Airlines sign. He stopped the meter. It read: $44.35. Jane fished through her purse and handed him three twenties. He opened his change wallet, but she held up her hand.

  “Keep it,” she said.

  Jane grabbed the door handle, but she didn’t open it right away. Instead, she sat staring out the cab’s window.

  The ramp was packed with travelers hugging goodbye at open car trunks. She saw one couple kiss, and she watched the wife wheel her carry-on luggage toward the doors. The husband looked longingly after her before getting in his car and driving away. Still, Jane sat without getting out of the cab. She looked through the glass doors into the busy terminal. She saw lines of travelers waiting to check their bags. She scanned the faces, just in case. She sat watching for what seemed like a long time. The cabbie said nothing, as if the moment were too important to interrupt. Eventually Jane released the door handle and sunk back into the seat.

  “Can you take me back?” she asked

  The cabbie looked at her in the mirror and nodded.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  She thought she saw him frown as he pulled away from the curb, but she wasn’t sure. He left the meter off this time, and as he exited the airport for the freeway, he quietly said:

  “I go back anyway, so I’ll take you for free.”

  BY THE TIME THE FERRY DOCKED at Bainbridge Island, the sun had fully risen on what looked to be a beautiful spring day. But there was no sun bright enough to chase Jane’s clouds away. She got in her car and drove to Grace’s condominium building and parked. Then she took her phone from her purse and sat with it in her lap for almost an hour. She lit a cigarette, but it burned out in her hand before she even took one drag as she sat staring through the windshield at a NO PARKING sign, puzzling over its meaning until the words bled together in a blur, and she forgot where she even was.

  A rapping on the car window startled her, and Grace’s husband stood outside with a concerned look on his face.

  Jane rolled down her window.

  “Jane, are you all right?”

  “Hi, Bob,” she said. “I’m okay.”

  “I was pulling out, and I saw you sitting here with your car running, so I thought I’d check. You sure you’re all right?”

  Jane nodded.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay
. Well, Grace is upstairs if you want to go on up. She’d love to see you. I’m off to Denver. If the guest spots are all full, you can park in mine. Number fifty-three.”

  “Thanks, Bob.”

  He hesitated at her window a moment longer. It seemed like he wanted to tell her something, but then he appeared to think better of it. He turned and walked back to his car. Jane turned the key in her ignition, but her car was already running, and the starter gears ground loudly. Bob heard it and looked back, pausing at his door and squinting at her, as if checking one last time to be sure that she was really okay. She smiled and waved goodbye. He got in his car and pulled away.

  Grace buzzed Jane up without a question, met her at the door, and let her in. Her eyes were rimmed with red, as if she’d been crying, and she looked tired to Jane.

  “Are you okay?” Jane asked, momentarily forgetting her own grief.

  “I’m fine,” Grace said, “Just fine.”

  “You know what fine stands for, don’t you?” Jane asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  Grace laughed.

  “Yes, I know it all too well. Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. And aren’t we a couple fine, fine, ladies. Forget about me; I just have rough mornings sometimes. Come in and sit down. I’ve got hot coffee.”

  They sat in the living room, near the window overlooking the marina, and drank their coffee.

  “So,” Grace said, once they had settled, “tell me what’s going on. You don’t drop by this early just for my coffee.”

  Jane sighed.

  “Caleb left.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow, waiting for more.

  “Well, he didn’t just leave. I sent him away. I found out he had a job offer in Austin. A good one. Doing what he loves—music. And I knew he wouldn’t take it unless I made him go. I didn’t have a choice, really.”

  Grace sat back in her chair and looked at her, but she didn’t say anything. Jane hated the way she could do that—ask a question without even speaking.

  “Well, maybe I had a choice, but it was for his own good, right? I mean, it was the selfless thing to do, wasn’t it? Release them with love. Isn’t that what you always say?”

  “I might have said that, dear, yes, but I was talking about alcoholics who need to hit bottom. From what I know about Caleb, that sure isn’t him.”

  Jane started to say something, but she stopped herself and sighed. She sipped her coffee and looked out the window. A seagull flapped across the marina and landed on a dock pylon.

  Jane looked back to Grace.

  “Wouldn’t he have stayed if he really did love me?”

  “Were you testing him then?”

  “No, I wasn’t testing him.”

  “Then that’s hardly fair, is it? To expect him to treat it like a test of his love for you.”

  “I guess.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I told him it would never work. That something like this would always come between us. First he offered to stay. Then he wanted me to come to Austin with him. Can you believe that? Me moving to Texas? I told him ... oh, God, Grace ... I told him I didn’t love him.”

  Grace’s face scrunched up as if it pained her to hear what Jane had said. After several seconds of silence, she asked:

  “Did you mean it?”

  “No, I didn’t mean it.”

  “When did all this happen?”

  “Last night. And this morning. I’ve been chasing around like an idiot since dawn. I even went all the way to the damn airport, but I chickened out at the last minute. But then I’m not even sure he went there, anyway.”

  Jane paused to let out a long, involuntary breath, as if she’d been holding it all morning. She bit her lower lip until it hurt.

  “What have I done, Grace?”

  “Done is done,” Grace said. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t matter?”

  “No. What matters is what you do now.”

  “Then what should I do?”

  “Do you want me to answer that question as your sponsor, or as your friend?”

  “Well, what would you say as my sponsor?”

  “I’d tell you to write an inventory on it.”

  Jane looked out the window again.

  “And what would you tell me to do as a friend?”

  There was a long pause before Grace spoke, as if she were considering the question, or possibly deciding whether or not to even answer it. Then she said:

  “I’d tell you to go to Austin and never look back.”

  Chapter 23

  THE DAYS GREW LONGER, and so did the grass.

  Her house was empty and sad. Jane’s thoughts seemed to echo there like so many cries, bouncing off the walls to join one another inside her head until the silence was maddening.

  She took as many sales appointments as she could get in order to afford her some reason to escape, but even then she would sit across from her clients and think of her empty home, her empty life—a void left in both by Caleb’s leaving. At the end of the day, she’d go home and eat dinner alone and sit and do Sudoku puzzles until her eyes hurt. Then she’d cry in bed with her nose buried in his pillow.

  She was home early on Friday when the postman knocked on her door, because her box had filled. She sorted through the advertisements and bills and found Caleb’s health insurance card. Seeing his name printed on the envelope conjured up fresh waves of pain, and she carried it to the backyard and sat with it in her hand as she stared at the fountain. The sun went down, the air got cold, and the fountain retreated into shadows until she could hear it running but no longer could see it.

  The following morning she rose before her alarm, and her car drove her to her Saturday meeting as if on autopilot. Grace was not a gossip, and the other ladies had no idea that Caleb was gone. They all rushed to tell Jane what a wonderful time they had had at the barbeque two weekends prior, and how amazing they each thought Caleb was, and what a great couple they made. She smiled and nodded, knowing it would be easier to let them down as a group.

  When it came her turn to share, she felt guilty before she even spoke. She knew this crisis was somehow of her making, and she felt as though she’d delivered enough bad news into their Saturday morning club. But she needed to get it off her chest nonetheless.

  “Let me explain to you all how I’m an idiot,” she began. “I chased away the only man I might have ever truly loved. You know, I just don’t get myself sometimes. I don’t know whether I’m afraid that nobody could ever really love me, so I sabotage it before they can prove me right, or whether I’m just a scared little girl hiding in the body of a forty-year-old woman. I don’t know what to do and I’m sick over it. My sponsor suggested I do an inventory about it, but I can’t get past typing his name. Then I delete it. Then I write it again. Maybe I need to write on paper. I don’t know. Then she said I should just go to Austin and be with him. But everything I know is here. You guys. My job.My house.My memories of my daughter.”

  She felt tears coming on, so she paused to hold them back. She sipped her coffee to buy herself a moment.

  “Anyway, I’m aware that I’ve been Debbie Downer enough around here. So thanks for listening to me all these tough years. I know I’ll get through this; I know I’ll get over him. I have to. What other choice do I have?”

  After the meeting the women all hugged Jane, but none of them told her it would be okay, or that the sadness would pass, and she silently thanked them for that. Before she left Grace asked for a ride home. Jane knew it was her habit to stay and visit with the other ladies, so it was clear that she wanted to speak to her alone. But Grace didn’t say a word as they walked to her car, and she just stared out the window as they drove.

  When Jane pulled into Harbor Condominiums and parked, Grace stayed in her seat and didn’t move.

  “Are you mad at me for something?” Jane asked.

  Grace sighed but didn’t say anything.

  “Did I say something wrong in
the meeting? About you telling me to go after him to Austin? Because I know you gave me that advice as a friend, and if you didn’t want me to share it in the meeting, then I’m sorry.”

  She received no response from Grace.

  “Do you still think I should go after him? Grace?”

  When Grace finally turned to her, she had tears in her eyes and a forlorn expression on her face.

  “It isn’t always about you, Jane.”

  Jane couldn’t remember Grace ever having spoken to her like that, and it was clear that something was very wrong.

  “Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ... what’s wrong, Grace? Is something going on with you and Bob?”

  “Bob? He’s drinking again.”

  “He is?”

  Grace nodded.

  “Apparently he has been for over five years. He said he just doesn’t want to hide it anymore. He says he’s able to drink normally, whatever that means.”

  Jane didn’t know quite what to say to comfort her friend. She knew how often Bob was away from home, but she never had imagined him keeping this kind of secret from Grace.

  “What did you tell him?” she finally asked.

  “I didn’t tell him anything,” Grace replied. “Truth is I hardly care what he does.”

  “You don’t?”

  Grace turned herself in her seat to face Jane fully.

  “Jane, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Okay. You can tell me anything, Grace. You know that.”

  “I know. But this is hard.”

  “I won’t judge you,” Jane said. “No matter what it is.”

  Grace looked into Jane’s eyes, and Jane almost thought she saw an apology there, as if Grace had somehow let her down and needed to confess it. But as hard as her mind was working to puzzle out what it was that Grace needed to tell her, nothing prepared her for what came next.