The Book of Jane (13 page)

“I'm sorry, Jane,” he starts, tentatively. “That night, I was—I was stupid. I was upset.”

I roll my eyes. “Trust me. You don't even know ‘upset' until you walk around in these shoes for a while.” I point down at my slipper-shod feet. “Well, not these shoes exactly, but other shoes. My other shoes. The black patent leather heels, maybe.”

He frowns. “I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me,” he looks at me like he's scared. “In time.”

I take a deep breath and try to calm down. I can't believe any of this is happening. This is just not how it was all supposed to turn out. This is not how I had it planned. Even yelling at Tyson feels so wrong. For a full minute, we are both silent. The tension is palpable. I finally exhale and decide to be honest with him, to try to explain why I'm so angry, to calm down. “I loved you,” I say, my voice shaking. I swallow and look at him. “You know that, right? That's why all of this hurts so much. I really loved you.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I know.” He takes a deep breath. “And for what it's worth, I love you too.”

I grimace a little and try to remember to breathe, glad we're at least talking now—wait, did he just use the present tense? I stare into his eyes searching for a sign that it was a mistake, trying to read what he's thinking. He meant to say “loved” too, right? I expect to see him staring at the floor or looking at me sadly, but instead he stares back, boldly. We fix eyes on each other.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A jolt of electricity runs down my spine. I am locked in his gaze. He's so beautiful. And then he rushes to me, takes the back of my head roughly in his hands, and kisses me, deep and long, pressing me against the wall. My whole body wants to kiss him back, and I hold him against me. He stops, but keeps his face close to mine. I can feel him breathing on my cheek. I hear him swallow. He gently brushes his lips over my forehead, my nose, back down to my mouth, and then whispers, “I have to go. I fly out from Kennedy at nine tomorrow.” I stay perfectly still and silent, afraid anything I do will make him leave. Stay, I pray. Stay. He finally pulls back from me. He looks at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath and then says, “Here,” and hands me the plastic bag. I take it numbly. He turns and walks away. I lean against the wall and watch him go, unable to breathe, wanting to scream, Wait, wait, as he walks out of my life, but I can't get the air to do it.

I stay still for a while, trembling with shock. But eventually I peek down into the plastic bag he gave me. Inside I see a T-shirt that says “Plain Jane.” I bought it at a thrift store in high school. It's charcoal gray and worn soft and thin. My signature T-shirt. The one I wore over one time to help him paint his apartment. It ended up living at Ty's place. Every time I hung out at his place after work, I would throw it on to relax and get out of my work clothes. I hold it up to my nose and it smells like his apartment, like him. I slide down the wall and sit outside my door. What on earth does this mean? Why would he return this? It's the worst thing he could have done. Does he really think I want this now, after everything?

“Jane?” I hear from the stairwell. “Are you home?” It's Lee. I open my door and throw the plastic bag with the T-shirt inside. I can't think about that now. It's too much.

“It's me,” I call down to him. “Here I come in my pajamas,”

I say. “What else is new?” he yells back.

I walk down the stairs, and Charlie follows behind me. When he sees Lee, his tail wags so fast and furious that I think it might fly off. Lee scoops him up, and he's wiggly with excitement. He kisses Lee all over his face, and I laugh.

“Listen, thanks for picking him up and keeping him for me. You got my note, right?” After I gave Mary Sue a bath, I left Lee a note that I was taking Charlie home. “I owe you,” I say.

He shrugs. “You'd do it for me. And just wait until you see all the tricks I taught him. He can dance now. Just say, ‘
Baila!
' and he'll turn around in circles.”

I look at Lee. “You taught him the command for ‘dance' in Spanish?”

He shrugs. “
Baila
is a cute word. Don't you think?”

I laugh at him.

“And here,” he says, ushering me into his apartment. “I've been doing some research.” He pulls an envelope from his bag and takes a seat on the couch. I sit next to him as he pulls out some glossy blowups of a woman's face. They look as though they were taken on the fly.

“Where on earth did you get those?”

“Remember Brandon?” I nod, remembering his friend, a struggling actor who often starred in commercials and got bit parts on daytime dramas. “Turns out he and Matt Sherwin use the same talent agency. What luck, right?” He beams at me.

“Did he ever get past that whole fear of birds thing?” Brandon was set to star in a new daytime drama, but he withdrew when he learned that his girlfriend on the show had a pet parakeet who was integral to the plot.

“Not really.” He smiles sheepishly. “But he's auditioning a lot, and something will come up. And he was a gold mine of information.”

I sit down next to him and check out the snapshots. They are definitely of the red-haired girl we've been looking for.

“That's her! That's her, all right,” I say, taking them from him. I remember how she looks like a wealthy socialite. “But wait. That still doesn't explain the photos. How'd you get them?”

“Easy. Matt Sherwin's agent is a friend of Brandon's. So I got Brandon to ask Matt's agent to figure out who the red-haired woman in Matt's life was.”

“And he just had photos lying around?”

“No, silly. He just had a name and an address. I took these.”

“Oh. Of course. How silly of me,” I say and slap my head. “What kind of agent gives out that sort of information?”

“The kind who has a crush on Brandon.” I look at him like he's nuts. “What?” He really sees nothing odd about any of this. “So Matt's agent gave Brandon the red-haired girl's home address, and I waited until she came out and then snapped these. Apparently her name is Nina.”

Nina. “That's his personal assistant. Matt Sherwin was always talking about her. That's it.” I put it all together.

Lee smiles proudly, but the enormity of what he has done sinks in. He used his friend to get private information. He stalked someone. He clandestinely snapped photos of a stranger. “You have lost your mind,” I say, but then a smile spreads across my face. My devious smile. “And I love you for it. Let's hope Nina has some answers for us.” He laughs, handing me the thick envelope of papers.

“Hey, is your mom around?” I ask, craning my neck toward the bedroom.

“Oh,” Lee says.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh'?”

He takes a deep breath. “Mom's at the hospital. I guess I forgot to mention that.” I nod, as if I actually believe he forgot. “She's had a setback.”

“When?”

“This morning. They're worried it has spread. And then the drugs they had her on weren't mixing well, and she was really disoriented. It was scary. I took her to the emergency room,” he says and his eyes start to water up.

“Where is she?”

“There
are the apples of my eyes,” Mary Sue says weakly when she sees us. She looks small and tired. She smiles as Lee and I walk in her room in the ICU and struggles to sit up. You're technically only allowed one visitor at a time, but we snuck in separately and are now hiding behind the curtain that separates Mary Sue's bed from the others. I come around and hug her. It's very quiet in here, except for the beeping of medical equipment.

“I just found out you were in the ICU,” I say, “or I would have come sooner.” She waves in the air like Lee does, dismissing this comment.

“Don't you worry your pretty head none. These New York doctors just have worked themselves into a real fuss over me. I'm fine. I promise. I feel just like the day I was born,” she says, pausing a second to catch her breath.

“I wish I could have brought Charlie to cheer you up. I know he misses you,” I say. “And thanks for helping Lee watch him.”

“Lee, did you remember to turn off the oven before you left?” she asks.

“Mom, I haven't turned the oven on in a week.”

“The iron?” she asks him and then turns to me. “I swear if I didn't watch that boy he'd burn the whole apartment down.” I laugh.

“Yes, the iron is off,” he says, almost patiently.

“Good. Now come give your mama a hug.” He comes around and gives her a hug. When he pulls back from her she says in a loud stage whisper, “Did you remember to brush your teeth today?”

“Mom,” he whines at her. I crack up at their little family drama but decide to help Lee out by changing the subject.

“Mary Sue, is there anything we can get you? A soda? Some ice?”

“Aren't you just the sweetest thing?” She smiles weakly at me. “Are you sure you don't want to marry Lee?”

I laugh while he groans at her.

“He could really use some help, you know. Why, I don't even know how he's managed all these years without me.”

“By the skin of my teeth,” he says, forcing a smile.

Mary Sue turns to me. “I'm fine, shug. Don't you worry about me. I got this real nice nurse, and she's got me all set up real comfortable here.” She's probably charmed the entire hospital staff by now.

The curtain snaps open, and a nurse pokes her head in. “I'm sorry. Only one guest at a time. And visiting hours end in five minutes.” She looks at us firmly.

Lee and I look at each other. “I'll just meet you in the lobby,” I say to him.

“No, wait,” Mary Sue says. “Lee, honey, can I have a moment with Jane? I want to have some girl talk with her.” Her joke falls a little flat, but I try to smile anyway.

“Sure, Mama,” he says. He kisses her good-bye and then follows the nurse out.

I go over to Mary Sue and hold her hand.

She takes a deep and labored breath. “Shug, I don't feel so well is the truth of it.”

I squeeze her hand tight and fight back tears.

“I hope it's just a little setback, but if it ain't, can you tell me one thing?”

I nod. “Of course. Anything.”

“Does Lee,” she purses her lips and goes quiet for a moment. “Does Lee think I'm a burden? I don't want to be an inconvenience to him.”

“Of course not, Mary Sue. He loves you to the end of this earth. He would do anything for you. He loves having you around.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I know it's been hard on him to have me here all along. And I don't want to disrupt his life. I just wanted to see him. And I know I've been a bit, well, controlling, maybe. I just want to make sure he's okay. If I know what he's doing, I feel like maybe I can hold on to him a little longer.”

I look down, not sure of what to say. “He's loved having you. More than anything.”

“Now Jane, I'm no fool. But he, he—”

I look at her soft, wrinkled face.

“He doesn't really need me anymore. I guess all along even down in Charleston I was still living for him. When his daddy died, Lee was all I had left. I figured, okay, Mary Sue, your boy needs you. That's something to live for. But now I'm here and I see plain and simple, he doesn't need me. He's all grown up.” A tear slides down her cheek. I place my cool hand on her forehead.

“Honey,” I say in my best Southern accent, “you're plumb wrong about Lee.”

She looks at me hopefully.

“I've never seen a boy who needs his mama more than Lee.”

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“I'm positive. He's a mess when you're not around.”

She smiles and I kiss her on her forehead and say good-bye. As I walk away, she seems so small and fragile.

Chapter 16

I
ignore
the stares as I walk through the terminal. I am carrying a giant pink stuffed elephant—so what? I hold my head up. This is New York. There are crazy people everywhere.

Last night when I came home from the hospital, I saw the T-shirt Ty returned and burst into tears. I pulled it on and crawled into bed, enjoying the smell of him. It was like having his arms around me again. I realized that he was really leaving. I thought about what it meant, about how I would probably never see him ever again, this man I thought I was going to marry. And then I thought about the kiss. We both felt it.

And I realized what I had to do. My mom was right. I couldn't let him get away. I had planned to spend my life with him, and I had to make it happen. I needed to make a grand gesture to stop him, show him I am serious about this. About us. No matter what it takes.

I got up at the crack of dawn and put on the jeans he loves so much and his favorite black top of mine. I took the train to Coney Island, praying that the vendors would still be there even though it's the end of the season, and then convinced a man on the pier to sell me a stuffed animal, just like the one Ty won for me on our first date, the one I got rid of after a week, because what kind of grown woman has a giant, pink stuffed elephant in her room? Then I called a car and rushed to Kennedy Airport.

I stop and scan the departure board. Good. His flight isn't boarding yet. I walk toward the security screening area.

“Ticket and ID, please,” the guard barks at me.

“I just need to go inside for a little while,” I say, smiling my best smile, trying to look as sweet as possible. I shift the elephant to my other arm. How did I forget about security?

“Can't get past without a ticket and ID,” he says, waving me aside.

“Please, I promise I'll come right back,” I say.

“Ma'am, this is a secure area,” he says. “It is a violation of federal law to let you past without a ticket and ID. Are you asking me to break the law?”

I smile hopefully. He shakes his head no.

“Fine,” I say, turning toward the ticket counter. I wait in the line, checking my watch every few minutes. I have to make it on time. After fifteen frustrating minutes, I make it to the front of the line. “How much is a ticket to Denver?” I ask at the counter. “On the flight that leaves in forty-five minutes.”

“It looks like we have a seat available,” she says, punching keys on her computer. “That will be eight hundred dollars.” She looks up at me and smiles.

“Eight hundred dollars?” I mouth weakly. “But, I…”

“We have a later flight. Let me see if there is any room on that one,” she says, looking back at her screen and smiling.

“No, that's all right,” I say, turning to go but then stop. I take a deep breath. I hadn't intended to go to Denver, but if that's what it takes, that's what I'll have to do. I pull out my brand-new credit card. “I'll take it,” I say and wince. I'll be paying that off for a year. But it's worth it. No price too high for true love.

Ticket in hand, I rush back toward security. The screener eyes me warily as I hand him my ticket and driver's license. He nods, and I rush past him, throwing the elephant on the conveyor belt. It doesn't fit through the opening.

“Ma'am, that won't fit in the overhead bin,” the man behind the X-ray machine barks.

“That's ok. Hopefully I don't need it to,” I say breathlessly, trying to stuff it into the mouth of the machine.

“It won't fit. Don't force it.” I bite my lip. He looks at me, skeptically. “You can't bring that inside, ma'am.”

“But I have to,” I say, pushing on the pink fabric. I turn it over so its trunk is on the conveyor belt and give it another push. It slides under the lip of the machine, and I beam. “See! It fits!”

“You cannot bring that inside the boarding area,” he says. I look at it on the little screen as it slides through the X-ray machine.

“Please,” I say. “I need to bring Judy Garland in with me.”

“Judy Garland?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I think Judy Garland is a good name for her,” I say. “Pinky was too obvious, and Poppy just didn't fit.” He cracks a smile.

“How about Roger?” he asks, pointing to his nametag and smiling.

“She's a girl!”

“Fine,” he says, shaking his head. “But ma'am, I'm afraid I can't let you bring Judy Garland inside the boarding area,” he says, softening slightly. The man behind me in line clears his throat.

“Look,” I say leaning toward him. “There's nothing wrong with the elephant. She checks out on X-ray, right?” He nods. “It's for my boyfriend,” I say. “I mean, my ex-boyfriend.” He listens. “And hopefully, my future boyfriend. I need to get Judy Garland to him before he gets on the plane.” I look to see how he's reacting to my speech. He watches me. “Please,” I say. “He's the best thing I've ever had.” I look at Judy Garland, emerging from the other side of the machine. “I can't let him get away.”

The guard looks at me. “This elephant is going to help you get your boyfriend back?” He laughs. I nod, tears pooling in my eyes. He has to let me in. This just has to work. The man behind me clears his throat louder this time.

“Fine,” the guard says quietly, waving me through the electronic gate. “Take the elephant. But please be discreet,” he says, as I pick up my hot pink stuffed elephant that blends in so naturally in this run-down terminal.

“Thank you,” I say, blinking back tears as I look for gate A9.

“And good luck!” he yells as I start to walk away. I turn back and smile. He just shakes his head. I throw Judy Garland over my shoulder and rush toward the wing marked Gates A1–A15. He can't be on the plane yet. I still have time. I rush through the terminal, weaving around confused tourists and slow vacationers. I knock someone in the head with Judy Garland's trunk and yell sorry without looking back. I'm almost there, and I slow down. I scan the boarding area.

There he is. I see the back of his blond head. He's looking out the windows and is slouched down in his chair, staring straight ahead, his headphones in his ears. I step out of sight behind a pillar and take a deep breath. I hadn't really planned what I was going to do at this point. Do I go sit down next to him? I wonder if I should sneak up behind him, set the elephant down next to him, and see what happens next. Surely he'll see it and realize he's making a mistake and stay. Or I'll get on the plane with him and surprise him in the air? Or is that a little too crazy? That's a long flight if he's horrified.

Judy Garland weighs more than I thought. My arms are getting tired. And then I study her and see how cheaply made she is. She's actually pretty hideous. Would anyone really want this thing? Why do I have this stupid animal, anyway? Maybe it's a kind of apology, an offer to start fresh. I guess I was hoping it would bring him back to our first date and help him remember what it felt like, that first rush of love. My mind drifts back to that magic afternoon—the sunshine, the salty air, the kiss—and I sigh.

I step forward to walk toward him when the woman at the gate announces that the flight is beginning to board. I see Ty look up and put his headphones away, then stand up and grab his carry-on bag. It's now or never. But as I try to walk forward again, I stop.

He loves me. He said it himself.

But is it enough?

Yes, I tell myself. I can't live without him. This was not how it was supposed to end. I have to stop him from leaving.

But I can't make myself go. This doesn't feel right. I sigh and look at Judy Garland. I notice she's not even the exact same kind of pink elephant that Ty won for me. Oh no. Why on earth do they give away more than one kind of pink elephant? I messed it up. But maybe he won't know. I should have just kept it the first time. Then I wouldn't be in this predicament. I look over at the line. Ty is at the back of it. I look at the stuffed animal again. But I didn't keep it. Does that mean something? Why didn't I keep it? What if the truth is, I knew even then?

Ty is three people away from the front of the line. I open my mouth to say something, but I can't make a sound come out. I look at my feet and tell them to move, but they are planted in place. I shift Judy Garland in my arms and look at her. All of my dreams of reconciliation seem childish. I'm standing in the airport with a giant stuffed elephant, and all of sudden I know it's not enough. This isn't going to work. Ty isn't ultimately the kind of man I want. The whole time, I guess I knew deep down that it wasn't going to work, but I was willing to live the lie.

I've been lying to myself.

I watch as Ty heads for the agent and pulls his ticket out of his pocket. I swallow back a lump in my throat as he hands it to the woman. I watch, helplessly, as he turns and looks around the terminal one last time. And a tear leaks out of my eye when he steps through the doorway and into his new life.

Slowly, I turn and walk away.

I check
the address on the paper and hop out of the cab I caught outside the airport. Thank goodness computer centers are so common in airports now. I juggle Judy Garland in my arms as I pay the driver and slam the car door and march through the plate-glass doors of the SoHo loft building. I tuck the stuffed animal under my arm and hold my head up as I stride confidently past the doorman's slick mahogany desk and through the sleek modern lobby. I learned long ago that if you look like you know what you're doing, people tend to believe you. He doesn't stop me.

This is exactly the kind of place he'd live. The concrete floor and high ceilings speak to the building's former factory days, but the built-in flat-screen television playing images of ocean waves, the Eames chairs gathered around a tiled coffee table, and the modern art on the walls remind visitors that it costs a lot to live like you're poor in this city. The brushed-chrome elevator doors slide open soundlessly, and I step in. I push the button for the twelfth floor and look at my reflection in the mirrored walls. The jeans and black top aren't too wrinkled. I smooth down my hair and take a deep breath.

When the door opens, I step out into a long hallway with gray carpeting. I look for number 1214. I pass several doors with welcome mats and crayon drawings taped to the door, but 1214 is austere. The heavy metal door is tall and intimidating.

I raise my hand to knock, then bring it down again.

He's going to think I'm crazy. I can't just show up at his door. I'm still holding this ridiculous elephant. I'd better just go.

I turn to go back toward the elevator when I hear noises inside. I lean in to listen. That's definitely Neil Diamond. I can't help but laugh. Okay. I can do this. Surely he'll be so embarrassed to be caught listening to “Sweet Caroline” that nothing I say will be a big deal.

Before I lose my nerve, I knock on the door. I hear footsteps, and I steady myself. The door opens, and he's standing there in dark blue jeans and a tight gray T-shirt. He looks…good. And he is smiling. Before he can ask me what I'm doing here, I blurt it out.

“I know it was you.”