The Ferryman (9 page)

And maybe there is,
he thought.

He kissed her cheek. She smelled like cinnamon.

He smiled a bit sadly when he thought of that old song. David held Janine at arm's length and felt something pass between them. All of his nervousness dissipated in that moment.

“You look great,” he said. “As usual.”

“I'm a wreck,” she replied with nonchalance. “It must be the Zoloft the doctor's got me on, but thanks for saying.”

With that, she led them inside.

The apartment brought back even more memories. He spotted the elegant glass sculpture he had given her after they had been together a few months. It was of a dancer in a beautiful gown. It still held a place atop the entertainment center in the living room.

The spring breeze made the leaves of Janine's jungle of plants quiver and sway. Something soft and jazzy played on the sound system in the room. Deliciously spicy odors filled the apartment.

“What's that smell?” Annette asked. “I thought we were just going to have sandwiches.”

“I felt like cooking,” Janine said with a small shrug. “Kung Pao shrimp with cashews.”

“You didn't have to do that,” David said quickly.

“No big deal. I haven't cooked in a while. The mood struck me. I'm unstoppable when the mood strikes me.”

“Yes, we know,” Annette put in.

Janine shot her a withering glance, then strode toward the kitchen. Annette glanced at David and rolled her eyes. She wore a tiny smirk.

“It's just about ready,” Janine called from the kitchen.

“Hey,” David said softly.

Annette frowned at his tone of voice.

“Maybe she doesn't need that right now,” he suggested.

“It's exactly what she needs,” Annette replied. “To be with her friends, and to think about something else.”

A moment later, Janine called them in to fill their plates and they sat around the living room quite informally, eating Kung Pao shrimp and studiously avoiding any talk about Spencer Hahn, past relationships, or the baby Janine had carried inside her.

Its ghost lingered in the room with the Oriental spices and the soothing jazz music.And yet David thought that was probably all right. That loss was part of Janine's life now, part of who she was. Though they never discussed the pain she so obviously felt, it did not seem awkward to him that they avoided it. It was
her
pain, after all. She would share it if and when she wanted or needed to.

 
What are you doing here?

The words echoed through Janine's mind time and again during David and Annette's visit, but she dared not speak them. As they ate, and later as they simply sat in the sun-drenched living room, the temperature just cool enough for steam to rise from the cappuccino she had made, she sneaked glances at him from time to time and just marveled that he had come at all.

I hurt you,
she wanted to say.
Why are you here?

The answer that kept coming back to her was a simple one: He was there because she was hurting, and he cared. Somehow she was managing to survive despite the huge, agonizing wound torn in her heart by the loss of her baby son, and yet David's presence—and the forgiveness implied by it—was enough to bring her nearly to tears.

In so many ways, she felt like an imposter there in that apartment. Smiling, participating in small talk, showing interest, and all of it a mask to cover the numb, frozen core of her where nothing mattered anymore. And yet, whether she could truly feel it or not, this did matter. These friends mattered, or she would not even have made the attempt at normalcy. The pull of anxiety and depression dragged at her, but with Annette and David there—and, she had to admit, with the drug her doctor had prescribed—she knew there was more to the world than mourning. It felt as though she were trapped in some impenetrable bubble with her grief, but now, at least, she could see what lay beyond it.

For the most part, they talked about St. Matthew's, and a little about Medford High. They talked about their students and about teaching, and though the subject of Ralph Weiss's death came up, they spent only a few minutes on that subject, as though death were too nearby at the moment and might overhear them and be drawn down to listen more closely. And nobody wanted that.

David seemed blissfully unaware of her complicated feelings about him, and Janine was glad. She had a lot to work through before she could focus on something so trivial as romance.

Still, it was a comfort being around him. David seemed so relaxed within himself, and Janine envied that easy confidence. He sprawled in his chair in the living room in gray pants and a white shirt, the remnants of the suit he had worn to the funeral, and he focused on her. After the time she'd spent with Spencer Hahn, whose attention had always seemed to be turned inward, just a few hours with David was refreshing.

Annette noticed, of course. Janine caught her smiling a few times as the conversation turned in lazy circles. It made her love Annette all the more. She did not think she had ever had a better friend.

The afternoon rolled on and the sun shifted in the sky so that the windows threw bright silhouettes onto the floor that seemed to stretch out and warp like reflections in a funhouse mirror. Janine grew tired. She did her best to hide it, but Annette noticed.A little after four o'clock, she glanced over at David.

“We should probably get going,” Annette said.

Janine expected more, some comment about how tired she looked or how much she needed her rest. But Annette added nothing to her declaration. David did not need the situation clarified to him. He glanced once at Annette, once at Janine, then nodded in understanding and stood up.

“We really should. I need my beauty rest.”

The women both laughed and David gave them an injured look that Janine remembered well.

Annette stood as well, and Janine walked them both to the door. She could feel the empty apartment behind her back, the silence that awaited her when they were gone, and a bit of melancholy settled in. Yet somehow she did not mind. If she could only take the time to become accustomed to her pain, on her own, Janine thought she would be all right.

“Thanks so much for coming. Both of you.” She pulled Annette into a tight hug and whispered in her ear, “You're the best.”

“Someone's gotta be.” Annette kissed her cheek before stepping out onto the second-floor landing.

Janine took both of David's hands in her own. They were warm and strong, and she squeezed tightly.

“It means a lot, you coming to visit.There are so many things I—”

“Hey,” David interrupted, his voice soft. “You don't have to.”

She raised her eyebrows, dropped his hands, and poked him in the chest.“No interrupting. It's a guy thing, I know. But no interrupting.”

With a thin smile, he raised his hands in surrender and nodded once for her to continue.

“I did a lot of things wrong. Not just wrong, but stupid,” Janine said. She hugged herself a moment, then let her arms hang limp, her hands fluttering awkwardly, unsure what to do with them.

She allowed herself a tiny shrug. “I guess what I'm saying is, I'm glad you don't hate me. I'm glad you came.”

David gazed at her expectantly, as though making sure she was through speaking. He did not want to risk interrupting her, apparently. Then he nodded again.

“Me too.” His wistful smile disappeared then, and a flicker of pain passed over his features.

Janine stepped in to slip her arms around him. David held her close and she could feel the heat of his breath on her neck, the power of his hands on her back.

“I'm sorry, Janine,” he said, his voice low. “For all of what happened to you, but especially for the baby. If you want to talk at all, or you want to just get a coffee or whatever, call me. Nothing complicated. I just want you to know I'm your friend.”

They ended the embrace, but she held on to his hands again. “I know that, David. I really do.”

Annette promised to call the next day, and a moment later Janine closed the door behind them.

She took a long breath and leaned against the door.Tears began to slip down her cheeks. Janine wiped them away quickly. It had grown chilly as the afternoon waned, but her windows were still wide open. Goose bumps rose on her arms and she hugged herself tight.

Nothing complicated,
David had said.

“Too late,” Janine told her empty apartment.

 
That night, she dreamed of a river.

 
The place is familiar. Janine has been here before.The air is heavy and damp and the ground beneath her feet is a wet, gritty mire.

Where is he?
she thought.

This isn't right.

A tiny sound escaped Janine's lips as her eyes opened abruptly. There was no passage between sleeping and waking. Rather, she was instantly aware of the room around her, the streetlamps outside just enough to deepen the shadows and cast a sort of gloomy illumination upon the floor and the edge of the bed.

Something rustled in the shadows by her door.

Janine sat and stared, wide-eyed, around her room, unnerved by the dream, which did not dissipate the way most dreams do after waking. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she peered into the dark around her, gazing at every corner, convinced that she was not alone.