Facebook Jeanie

by Addison Westlake

  About to head out the door, Clara turned and reluctantly remembered her itinerary: she had to check email first. With the pent-up energy of a racehorse kept at the gate, she perched at her desk and clicked on her giant chunk of a black PC.

  “Hello, granny,” she murmured. It took at least five hours for the dinosaur to power up and then connect its way through cyber space. “How did I stand this?” Clara muttered, her fingers practically twitching for her iPhone.

  Eyes wandering as she waited, she noticed her old CD player up on a shelf. She remembered her parents had given her her first iPod as a graduation gift—a couple of weeks from then. There the boom box sat in its final days, its swan song, speakers as big as grapefruits. The shelving system underneath held hundreds of CDs all organized, compliments of Cat, according to color.

  Finally connected to email, Clara clicked through a couple invites to parties, a reminder or two from sorority sisters, an ad for a band playing in town.

  And an email from Aleksander Novak. The old feelings of dread welled up, still remarkably fresh. That astronomy class had nearly killed her. She’d apparently emailed him yesterday, begging for an extra help session to finish her final astronomy lab. He replied “I can meet you at 6 tonight if you still need help.”

  6pm? Wouldn’t that interfere with getting ready for the casino night party? Clara dug into her backpack and pulled out her itinerary. Sure enough, 6:15-7:00pm: finish astronomy lab with TA. Clara sighed deeply. She guessed she’d just have to get dressed for the party before her TA session. Oh, how she longed to speed across campus on the wings of love, land in Brad’s room at his frat house and announce how excited she was to spend the rest of their lives together!

  But Jeanie had been clear: go through her day exactly like she had back in college. Until Brad, that was. Smiling at the thought of the gift at the end of the day, she sent back a quick reply “OK, see you then.”

  Bounding out into their tiny, utilitarian kitchenette she grabbed a bagel and quickly slathered on peanut butter and jelly. The lunch of champions and hung-over college kids eating breakfast at noon. Grabbing a bag of stale bread for the duck pond, she headed toward the door.

  Outside, the campus was exploding with springtime. A springsplosion. A flat, emerald green expanse of grass stretched nearly as far as eye could see, dotted with students chatting, reading, playing Frisbee, making out. Stately buildings framed the scene with gothic columns and wide stone steps. Clara paused for a moment, exhilarated, feeling as if she’d just stepped into well-funded movie set. A handsome guy riding a mountain bike called out, “’Sup Clara,” and gave her a blindingly gorgeous smile as he passed.

  Clara giggled, then nearly skipped down the path toward the student parking lot. What would pass for cold in California had the entire upstate New York campus sporting flip flops, shorts and tank tops.

  Across the lawn, a young student came rushing toward her, so skinny and gawky her backpack threatened to tip her over.

  “Clara? Clara Taylor?” she called out in an excited rush. Up close, she gave Clara a wide, braces-filled smile.

  “Hey, you.” Clara offered a noncommittal nod.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me! I sure remember you!”

  Clara looked at her blankly.

  “Cross-country? At Monte Loma High? I was a freshman when you were a senior!” She launched into a high-pitched gush of memories, occasionally snorting with laughter at the hilarity of it all.

  “I’m sorry,” Clara shook her head, conscious of the time. “I don’t remember.” She began taking a step away.

  “Jane! Jane Henderson!” the girl insisted. “Everyone used to call me Jane the Brain!”

  “Listen, it’s good to see you, but I’m sorry I’m on a schedule. I have to go.” Clara faltered with her next step, tripping over a tree root that had pushed up through the concrete walkway.

  “Watch your step!” Jane called out after her. “That tree root’s a doozy!”

  Clara waved a hasty goodbye and kept down the path, thankfully remembering where she’d always parked her car. There she saw it: her dad’s old burgundy Honda Accord. She’d inherited it her sophomore year. A wave of nostalgia hit her when she saw it, boxy and filthy from the long, Ithaca winter. Fitting the key into the lock—no power doors here—she recalled how the car used to embarrass her. Amidst the brand-new SUVs and Jeeps of her peers, she’d taken some razzing from her friends. Largely Brad’s frat brother friends, she remembered, slamming the door shut.

  The engine roared to life and with it a song blared through the car: “I get knocked down! But I get up again!” Clara belted it out alongside Chumbawamba. A mixtape! That’s right, because her frugal accountant father hadn’t gone in for the fancy CD upgrade when he’d bought the car in the mid-90’s. Funny how that had mortified her back in college. After a decade of making her own car payments, now the idea of a free car in any shape or form seemed pretty sweet.

  She pulled up in front of the public library in downtown Ithaca right on time, 1pm. Frail Jessica with her big brown eyes and long brown hair sat huddled on the steps. Clara hated how her mother just dropped her off, as if she were fine cold and alone waiting outside the public library. Today Jessica wore a t-shirt, but in contrast to the co-eds on campus, she sat shivering and studying her tattered sneakers.

  Clara rolled down her window. “Hey you!” Jessica looked up, a shy smile spreading across her delicate features. “Hop in!” She climbed in the back seat. “Ready to feed some ducks?” Jessica nodded, her smile broadening.

  Only a ten minute drive away, Clara slowed as she turned onto the dirt road leading toward the park. Under the lush and dark canopy of trees, she already felt herself relaxing. Ithaca was famous for its stunning gorges, attracting tourists year-round with water catapulting down hundred-foot cliffs. But Jessica liked the duck pond.

  Part of a large public recreation area, the little tree-lined pond nestled next to a dog park and playground. In spring and summer, the walking path around it lay sheltered underneath the shady boughs of ash, oak and linden trees. Once winter hit, thought, ice froze the pond and the bare trees solid.

  No matter the weather, Jessica wanted to walk around the duck pond, slowly, stopping frequently to study moss on tree bark, cloud patterns, or watch the dogs frolicking on the field. When they’d first started spending Saturdays together at the end of her sophomore year, Clara had tried hard to mix things up. The park had a big lake, a skating rink and tennis courts, plus limitless trails leading up and away to all sorts of adventures including the breathtaking gorges. And when it got cold, Clara had come at her with all kinds of indoor ideas: a movie, a museum, heck they could probably even find a circus performing somewhere!

  Quietly, yet firmly, Jessica had politely declined it all and stayed the course. Like a postman devoted to his rounds, sleet, rain, snow or ice storm—and they’d seen it all—she wanted to walk around that duck pond.

  Together they’d seen foliage so bright it threatened to burst into flame. They’d seen the pond turned into a crystalline palace, each bough of every tree glittering in its own casing of ice. And once everything finally melted and stubborn shoots of green began forcing their way up through the softening earth, they’d celebrated the ducks’ noisy return and, eventually, their quacking and preening over a downy, fluffy line of ducklings.

  It didn’t take long for Clara to appreciate slowing down; on campus she constantly rushed from one activity to the next. Who had time to amble in contemplative silence amidst natural beauty? But once Jessica forced her, she couldn’t imagine her week without it. It reminded her, way back when she’d been Jessica’s age, how much she’d loved her weekend outings with her dad. They’d called their excursions “nature walks” to mom so she wouldn’t get nervous, but her dad had never treated her like a kid and together they’d scaled the highest mountains.

  And Jessica, Clara soon realized, desperately needed the weekly outing. She didn’t talk much about her home
life, but you didn’t need to be a child psychologist to realize that sharing a trailer with a mother, a grandmother, and three brothers and sisters didn’t afford much peace. The quiet and tranquility of the outdoors was her antidote.

  This afternoon, Clara gave Jessica her sweatshirt. She shyly accepted it, rolling up the sleeves and wearing it like a dress.

  As they walked, she looked down at Jessica, so young and fresh-faced and mesmerized by the ducks. What happened to her in the future? They hadn’t stayed in touch. A few years back—or ahead, she guessed, depending on how you looked at it—she’d searched for Jessica on Facebook but hadn’t found her.

  Jessica let out an uncharacteristic giggle. Clara followed her gaze and saw dogs nearly dancing with springtime joy in the nearby field. They twirled and leapt as they chased after tennis balls and Frisbees. Clara knew exactly how they felt. Today, she shared their restless energy.

  After the usual appointed time, Jessica paused and then began to turn around on the path.

  “Hey,” Clara asked, touching her shoulder lightly, which still made Jessica start. “Do you mind if we walked a little further today? I’m feeling restless.”

  Jessica cocked her head, looking at her inquisitively. “You’re different today,” she observed, studying her.

  Clara met her quiet, intense gaze and began to formulate a protest.

  “I don’t mind, though,” Jessica said, matter-of-fact. She shrugged and kept walking.

  Around a turn they broke through the heavy shade and entered full sun. Clara instinctively reached for her sunglasses in her bag, always with her in California. Finding neither, she caught up with Jessica who’d wandered over to a patch of wild violets.

  Perhaps it was simply the aftermath of Jessica’s odd, insightful moment, but Clara suddenly felt strange, as if she were being watched. Looking up, she saw the park’s small wooden snack hut. It was where you could rent ice skates in winter or grab a cold lemonade in summer. Not that she’d ever done that with Jessica, but Clara had been there a few times over the years with friends.

  A guy sat behind the counter. He had his baseball cap pulled down low and his gaze decidedly fixed in a book. As they lingered by the violets, she continued to have that unmistakable feeling of being watched. But each time she snuck a peek back over he seemed to be reading. She was really too far away to tell.

  “Hey, Jessica,” she said casually. “Feel like a snack?”

  “We get snacks at the coffee shop. After we visit the pond.” True enough, that was their routine.

  “How about today I get you something here?” Clara asked, hopefully. “Because it’s so sunny. We can enjoy being outside the whole time?”

  Again, Jessica studied her in her quiet, serious manner. “OK,” she finally said and started off in the direction of the snack hut.

  As they approached, the guy stayed head down, buried in a textbook. At the counter, she had to clear her throat to get him to look up.

  “Excuse me, please,” Clara began hesitantly, then stopped speaking all together. He had dark, intense eyes, very nearly black and she might have found them attractive had he not looked up at her with a mixture of annoyance and displeasure. She’d know that look anywhere: the look of the TA who hated her, Aleksander Novak.

  “Oh.” Clara swallowed hard and looked down, around to the ground, over at the dog park. Jessica had had the right idea all these years; why veer from a routine that worked so well?

  “Do you want something?” he grumbled.

  “Um…” She studied her fingernails, then stole another quick glance up at him. His cheekbones stood out more than in his Cornell magazine cover photo, but it was clearly him. The knight in the shining lab coat. Sitting here behind the desk of a public recreation area snack hut. With surprise, she asked, “You work here?”

  “Yeah. There’s nothing wrong with working here.” He leapt to defend himself.

  “No, I didn’t mean… I only meant…”

  He exhaled and continued, “Just Saturdays. It’s not that busy. I can get work done. Plus, I get to do it here.” He motioned to his view, bursting alive with blossoms, leaves and trees far into the hillside beyond.

  Clara nodded, remembering quite clearly his all work no play ethos. She’d never seen him here, though; she’d figured he was more the type to hunker down in the basement of the science center, shining a tiny flashlight at a textbook the size of Jupiter as he studied through the wee hours. “Have you worked here long?”

  He shrugged. “Couple years.”

  “That so strange.” How had she been there every Saturday and never seen him?

  “It’s not that strange.” Now his voice had gone angry. “Some of us have to have jobs to make this thing called money.”

  Drawing back, Clara met his eyes again. Her mouth opened in a round O of surprise and she began to protest, “Why would you think—?”

  “Can we go?” Jessica asked in a small voice. She did not like fighting.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Clara turned toward her and crouched down so they were the same height. Smoothing Jessica’s hair back and behind her ears, she said, “Everything’s all right here.”

  “I want to go.”

  “OK.” She took Jessica’s hand and stood again. Walking away from angry Alek, she said, “We’re going to head back.”

  “Wait,” he called. She turned and he looked decidedly awkward if not apologetic. “Did you get my email?”

  “Yup.”

  “So, six o’clock in the lab?”

  “Is there any chance you can meet earlier?” Clara knew Jeanie said to keep everything the same, but what could be the harm in bumping up her study time? Then she could focus on really getting her sparkle on for the party.

  “What is six cutting into your social life?” His eyes looked hard again, with a sardonic glint. “You need to hit the frats early tonight?”

  “Actually, yes.” She stood defiantly, placing her free hand on her hip. “What’s wrong with that?”

  He gave a disgusted exhale. “I’m working here until two and then have to get something done for Professor Irvine this afternoon.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We can cancel.”

  Remembering how much she needed him she added quickly, “No! No, six is fine. I’ll see you then.”

  He reclined back into his chair, picked up his textbook and immersed himself as if he’d never been interrupted. All business. She guessed that kind of focus was how you went from the snack hut to the cover of the alumni magazine. Giving Jessica’s hand a reassuring squeeze, she turned around and led them both away from the scary angry work robot.

  Funny, but she could have sworn she felt him watching her again as they walked away.

  CHAPTER 6

  FIST BUMP!

  Who’s that girl in the mirror? Clara swung around, her long blonde hair cascading over one shoulder. Giving herself a seductive look, she murmured a husky, “Hi Brad.” She coyly twirled a strand of hair, then looked up feigning joyful surprise. “What’s that? You want to move to New York after graduation? Me too!”

  “Talking to yourself, champ?” Cat emerged from a steamy bathroom, towels wrapped around her body and hair. “But hold up!” Cat raised her hand in the air. “Check. You. Out.”

  “I know, right?” Clara hopped up and down with glee, not a small feat in her sassy red high-heels.

  “I knew you would rock that top.”

  “You have the best eye for clothes.” Clara couldn’t help but strut her stuff again in front of the full-length mirror, cat-walking away from it and then back in a dramatic turn. She had on the exact outfit she’d remembered, with black leggings and a gold lamé off-the-shoulder top.

  Cat had laid it out for her after they’d returned from the Sig Ep pig roast they’d attended from 3:45-5:15. They’d had fun out in the sunshine, flirting with boys and dancing to some band. But she’d left promptly, adhering to Jeanie’s tight schedule.

  “OK!” Clara exclaimed with anticipation, clapping he
r hands. “Who am I?” She sashayed toward Cat, sex on heels and dropped an imaginary cigarette to the floor. Grinding it out under her shoe, she looked up and said, “Tell me about it, stud.”

  “Grease! The ending!” Cat laughed. “But she was all in black.”

  “Still.” Clara admired herself again. “I feel so badass.”

  “Then let’s go for it.” Cat grabbed some product from her dresser. She sprayed a creamy dollop into her palm and scrunched it into Clara’s hair at the roots. “Now flip it all over.” She pointed at the hair drier. “Super hot, right at the roots, and you’ll get crazy volume.”

  Five minutes of blow-drying later and Clara looked like one of those iconic Guess jeans ads with the tousled, bedhead of a Claudia Schiffer cum Bridget Bardot.

  “Now look up.” Cat came at her with black eyeliner. A few smudgy strokes plus some more mascara and Clara had enough sex appeal to set the building on fire. Surveying her, Cat declared, “I so want to give you one of those naughty little scarves tied around your neck, like the Pink Ladies wore.”

  Though tempted, Clara definitely didn’t remember any neck scarves from her evening the first time around. Jeanie had warned her: stick with the program. So instead, Cat settled for finishing off the look with large hoop earrings and a set of bangley bracelets.

  It was already a few minutes past six. Clara yelped, noticing the clock. “I’m late!” She quick-spun around the room, suddenly void of any idea of what she needed to bring. Her wallet? A calculator for the lab? Maybe some pencils? She began shoving random things into her bag.

  “What are you doing?” Cat took a step back in alarm. “You’re not accessorizing with…” She pointed to the offending contraption. “A backpack?”

  Holding up her hefty astronomy packet, Clara explained, “I have to do this lab thingy before the party.”

  With a sound of disgust, Cat strode into her closet, then emerged with a sleek, black clutch. “Fold it up. It’ll fit in here and no one will have to know.”