The Book of Jane (8 page)

Chapter 10

I
knock
on Lee's door and prepare to meet Mary Sue. She's a mom. She'll know what to do about my roof. But when the door opens, I see Lee smiling at me.

“Look what the Chihuahua dragged in,” he says and crosses his arms over his chest. “How is Mrs. Matt Sherwin doing today?”

“Can it,” I say and push past him. I do a quick sweep of his apartment looking for Mary Sue. “Where's your mom?”

Lee strolls over to his sleek designer couch, now strung with a giant lace doily, and plops down. He's smirking. “She's not here, and you're avoiding my question.” He pats the seat next to him. “Why don't you come sit over here and tell me all about it. Is it true he had his teeth capped?”

I walk over and collapse for a moment, my head spinning.

“Well?” he says.

“What?” I wish he'd stop teasing me. I'm overloaded. I need to think.

“Jane, you're going to have to tell me eventually. You should just be glad I'm not mad that I had to find out from the tabloids.”

“Lee?” He keeps mumbling about loyalty and friends and telling each other all of our secrets. “Lee!” He looks up at me. “I am not with Matt Sherwin.” I take a deep breath. “My roof caved in. Tyson dumped me. I lost my job. Charlie is sick. My parents think I'm a failure. And I don't know what to do.”

He stares at me in shock.

“Your mom didn't tell you any of this?” I ask. “I saw her the other night, and she was a big help.”

“She mentioned you'd had a bad day and that I should call you immediately, but something was wrong with your cell phone, and I couldn't get through. I guess she thought you'd want to tell me yourself.”

“That must have been my work cell phone. They confiscated it. Along with my Blackberry and my dignity. The way those people were looking at me that day…” I lose myself for a moment thinking about it, but then I remember why I came down here. “Lee, I need you. Come upstairs. Now.”

As we open the door to my apartment, he gasps. “Well, I'll be,” he says quietly. I flip on the light to better assess the damage. The plaster around the skylight is soaked and has started to crumble onto my wooden floors. The rain has soaked my couch, and from what I can tell, the books on my shelves. I can see a good inch of water on my bedroom floor. I walk over to the desk and pick up my laptop. Water comes pouring out and splashes onto my shoes. Lee takes a deep breath and finally speaks. “I'm so sorry, Jane. This is really bad. Historically bad. It's almost like, like, you're cursed. And that statue—I'm so sorry.”

He's so dramatic. “Lee, I'm not cursed.”

“I don't know, Jane. Are you sure you haven't angered that God of yours that you're always going on about?”

“This from the guy who won't go outside if his horoscope is bad? Look, forget it.” I should have never come to him for help. I wish Mary Sue had been home. “Lee, I just need help right now. What should I do?”

“Let's go back down to my place and call the building manager. We'll figure something out.”

Lee and I call the animal hospital and arrange for Lee to pick Charlie up in an hour. The nurse reassures me three times that he is 100 percent better and out of danger. Then we locate Robert, the building manager, on his cell phone, and he gives me a contractor's number to call first thing in the morning. But he also warns me that I will have to cover the cost of the repair because it happened due to my own negligence in not securing the statue. I gulp, but I can't think about that now.

I go back upstairs and pack everything I can think of into a big rolling suitcase. Lee graciously offers to let me stay with him, but warns I'll have to fight with Auntie Di, who is coming over from Jersey tonight to stay, for a space on the living room floor. I can't do that to him. I'll figure something out.

As I start to trudge down the stairs, he calls after me. “So you really didn't kiss him?”

I shake my head.

“Well, good,” he says. “Because I really think he got his teeth capped and you can tell that when you kiss someone.”

I am
standing outside my building, about to dial Raquel's number, when my phone rings. “Hello?” I say quickly, putting it to my ear.

“Is this Jane Williams?” an unfamiliar voice intones. Whoever she is, she is all business.

“Yes,” I answer, my heart falling. She doesn't sound happy.

“This is Margaret Ann Markelson, for the Girl Scouts of Greater New York,” she says. “Bella's mom?”

“Oh, um, yes. Hi, Mrs. Markelson.” Why is Bella's mom calling me?

“I am afraid I have to inform you that we have found it necessary, in light of your recent…indiscretions…to ask you to relinquish all ties to Troop One Ninety-two. We the parents felt it is in the best interest of our children. Effective immediately.”

“What?” I screech, but inwardly, I'm not even surprised anymore. Of course the girls' parents don't want a harlot like me teaching their children values. “But that story about me in
Star Power
isn't true,” I say. “You can't fire me for something I didn't do.” I know I hadn't decided whether or not I would take over the troop, but now that I don't have any choice, I know I want them. They can be frustrating at times, but the look on their faces when they have just mastered a new skill or learned a new song…It breaks my heart to think I'll never get to help them again.

“I'm afraid I have no choice,” Mrs. Markelson says. “I am very sorry.”

“But I showed them how to roast marshmallows,” I say. “And canoe.”

“Well, isn't that nice?” she says. “Perhaps you should have thought about how much those little girls looked up to you when you were cavorting all over town with that actor.”

“But what I'm trying to tell you is—”

“Please, don't explain. I know everything already. The problem is you young, unmarried troop leaders never seem to realize that you're always a Brownie. You're not just a Brownie on the clock, during troop meetings or on campouts. You're a Brownie every day, and you should act like one, no matter who is watching.”

“I know that. I did. You've got to believe me.”

“I don't
have
to do anything.”

I shrug in helpless anger. What can you say to a livid Brownie mom?

“Look, the troop is now in the hands of a mother. I will take over for now. A mother will better understand the full responsibilities it entails.”

“Fine,” I spit. “But I gave my everything for those girls. And I, for one, think we did all right.”

Mrs. Markelson laughs. “All right isn't good enough for the Brownies, dear. Good night.”

I stare at my phone in disgust. Raquel warned me that some people in the local Brownie council were a little crazy, but that call was worse than the Inquisition. I sit thinking about our first campout. I love those little girls. I can't believe they're taking them from me. My head spins at all the rumors that are inevitably being spread about me by the Upper East Side moms. I shake my head in disbelief.

I can't worry about this now. I think about the puddle on the apartment floor. I need to call Raquel about staying over. Maybe we can talk about the Brownies tonight, and she can fix it. I dial her number, and the phone rings for a while before Raquel breathlessly picks it up. “Hello?” she asks wearily.

“Raquel, it's Jane,” I say, cringing. She sounds really tired. Wait? Has she seen the article? Does she know about the Brownie thing? “Look, I'm sorry to do this to you, but I was wondering if I could come crash at your place for a few days. My roof caved in, and I—”

“Your what?” she asks distractedly. I hear a shrill yell in the background.

“My roof caved in, Raquel. And I need a place to stay while I figure out what to do, and I was hoping—”

“Haven, put that down!” Raquel shrieks just before a large crash erupts in the background. Raquel sighs. “You're welcome to come over, Jane,” she finally says. “You're always welcome. But, as you can probably tell, it's not the best time for us.”

“Raquel,” I say, unsure how to react, “I really appreciate that. You know I wouldn't ask if it weren't an emergency.” I realize she doesn't know a thing about the
Star Power
nonsense or the Brownies. I've never heard her sound so frantic.

“Jane, if it's an emergency, why don't you go home to your parents?” she asks. “They're right there, and they have the resources to give you anything you need.” I have to admit that from her perspective it probably seems like the obvious solution, but I can't go back there. Not after the way I left things today. I need space and time before I can face them again.

“I would,” I say, “but I went there last night, and they—they don't really understand my current situation, and—”

She sighs. “You're being silly, Jane. Swallow your pride and go back to them. Remember the prodigal son? Parents are always willing to take their children back and give them another shot, trust me,” she says, and I wince as I hear Olivia yelling for her father.

“Raquel, you just don't understand,” I begin, but she interrupts me.

“I understand that your parents are there for you if you'll just use them. That's the practical thing to do. You're single and mobile and should take advantage of it. Someday when you have a family, you'll understand,” she says.

My plan to crash at the Hardaway Hotel crumbles with her words. I know she's stressed out, and maybe logically what she's saying makes sense, but it's certainly not what I need to hear right now. “Um, I guess you're right. Okay, I'll do that,” I say, lying to get her off the phone.

“Listen, I remember when I was single,” she says, her voice softening a little. “You have these little problems, and you think they're the end of the world, but I can assure you, they're not,” she says. I feel myself getting angry. Thanks for the condescension, Married Lady. “Someday, you'll be a mom and you'll see what I mean.”

“Whatever,” I say, amazed at my own composure. Some friend. “I have to go.” And while my voice is clearly saying to her, You'd better not let me hang up like this, I'm so angry at you, I could scream, she says a quick “buh-bye” and is gone.

I sigh. I take a moment to calm down and think of who to call next. I scroll through my phone, but no one I call picks up. It's like the whole world has conspired against me. I keep scrolling and realize I only really have one option.

As I begin to walk resolutely to the subway in the darkening evening light, I remember in a panic that I've left my day planner behind, and I run back for it. At least that hasn't been ruined in the unexpected flood.

 

Within
a half hour I am at Tyson's apartment in Brooklyn with a lump in my throat. Thank goodness he hasn't moved to Denver yet, because I need him. He'll understand. I know I can depend on him. I thought of calling first, but remembered that he was screening my calls, so I decided I might as well just show up on his doorstep. He can't turn me away once I'm already here.

I knock on the door. “Who is it?” he asks through the door.

“It's me,” I say, and then swallow. “It's Jane.”

A long moment passes, and I get the feeling that he's looking out the peephole at me. I smile to appear happy. I don't want him to think I've been crying over him all night and have come over in some misguided attempt to get back together.

He opens the door. He is wearing the reindeer pajama bottoms that my mom gave him last Christmas and a white T-shirt. He stares at me but doesn't say anything.

“Um, hi,” I say, my voice wavering. “Sorry to come over in the middle of the night, but the thing is—”

“Jane?”

I stare at him and take a tiny step back. A vein in his neck is throbbing, and his Adam's apple is moving slowly up and down. “Huh?” I muster.

“It's not true, is it?” He looks mad, and a little sad too. I sigh, knowing immediately what he's talking about. I can't believe Tyson, of all people, would even question me. Doesn't he know me better than that?

“Of course not.” He nods, and I take a step toward the door. “I didn't think so, but…”

“Ty, I need a place to stay tonight,” I say quickly. “Can I crash on your couch? Just for one night?”

“I don't think that's a good idea.” He steps back so the door is in front of his body.

“My roof caved in. I have nowhere to go. Please, just let me—”

“I'm sorry, Jane, but I have to do this, or it will only be harder tomorrow.” He steps back, and closes the door calmly. I listen as he turns the lock.

I stand there for a moment in the silence, looking around, his words echoing in my head. The world has gone mad. I just try to take a moment to breathe. Eventually he turns off the stoop's lights, and I'm standing in darkness. I almost knock again, but I know it's useless. I look at my watch. It's already ten o'clock. Even if I wanted to go home to my parents now, I'd miss the last train out of Grand Central. My lip quivers for a moment, but then I tell myself that I'm not going to cry any more. Instead, I pray as I walk to the subway. Where has God gone?