There's a Word for That

by Sloane Tanen

  Gail had even put the squeeze on Amanda. “Janine didn’t take anything away from Hailey,” Gail said. “She was trying to help her. And if it works out, when and if the twins are ready, maybe Janine would be in a position to help them.” Maybe, Janine had thought, not quite as confident that this supporting role was the career kindling Gail insisted it was. She hadn’t committed to Ransom but was already caught up in a myriad of concerns, questioning her talent, wondering whether she was actually good or just a carnival sideshow for the press to pick apart when the time came.

  The root of Gail’s sudden good-naturedness had revealed itself over their last family dinner at Directions two nights earlier in the form of a diamond-encrusted Cartier trinity ring. “What do you think?” she trilled, waggling her finger. “The news isn’t for public consumption yet but…we’re talking about getting married! I picked it out yesterday. It’s just a placeholder, of course.” She slipped the ring off her finger so the twins could try it on. “You’ll want to pick out the real ring,” she said to Marty, who didn’t look up. He was busying himself with a scoop of salted-caramel ice cream as if he were an eight-year-old. Jaycee and Hailey passed the ring back and forth, pretending not to notice the sudden chill in the room. “Maybe we’ll find something in Paris,” Gail said with a wink. Her mascara was so thick that her top and bottom lids stuck together for a second.

  Janine watched with detached amusement, glancing at Amanda, who looked back at her sister in disbelief. Had her father really held out the promise of marriage so that Gail would allow him to go away for two weeks?

  The upside, of course, was that Amanda and Janine were united in their outrage. They’d smiled politely and congratulated the happy couple, but their indignation that Gail would manipulate their dad in such a way helped loosen some very old, very stubborn knots. They’d gone out for coffee after dinner and hurled such spectacular insults at Gail that the twins had begged to be dropped off at Menchie’s for frozen yogurt so that mom and aunt could continue vituperating “the bitch” without an underage audience. At least she and Amanda were talking again. Their truce wasn’t the stuff of Hallmark cards, but the Kesslers had always been more Arrested Development than The Waltons.

  * * *

  Janine ignored her ringing phone as first Gail and then Amanda pulled up to the valet. She knew it was Henry calling. She wanted to talk to him more than anything, but she was embarrassed at how she’d overreacted to his leaving, mortified that she’d nearly thrown up on him, and terrified that he’d feel some obligation to her if he found out about the baby. Mercifully, she’d managed to avoid him at Directions all week. She hated that she liked him so much when all she wanted was not to like him at all. She wished he’d stop texting because every time she heard those chimes, she imagined the baby kicking. That was crazy, of course. The baby wasn’t even a baby yet. Just a bean. Not even a bean—just a few cells.

  More to the point, if Henry couldn’t even handle her family, how the hell would he take that news? And she still hadn’t decided what she was going to do. She wasn’t in any position to be anybody’s mother. She couldn’t shake the gnawing possibility that she was inherently defective. Viewed through the lens of Janine’s impending motherhood, Pamela’s suicide illuminated what she had always secretly suspected: that her own mom didn’t think her daughter was worth hanging around for. Part of Janine wondered if she had been right.

  Her phone rang again while she stood there, waiting for the valet to write out the tickets. Janine didn’t even reach inside her bag for it.

  “Are you going to get that?” Gail asked. “It might be your father.”

  “It’s not.” Her father’s ringtone was set to Bessie Smith’s “Tain’t Nobody’s Biz-Ness If I Do,” his favorite song. Gail was “The Imperial March” from Star Wars. Amanda was the theme song from Jaws.

  “You went to the market, right?” Gail asked.

  Janine shook her head. “I’ll go after he’s discharged. I’ll meet you all at the house afterward.”

  “You didn’t go to the market yesterday?” Gail asked again, as if she hadn’t understood. “You said you were going yesterday!” Her voice was verging on shrill, as though not having snacks in the house was tantamount to not having electricity. This was a big day for her. She clearly needed Marty to know how well she’d handled things while he was away, what a good wife she was going to be. She sighed, exasperated. “Make sure you get gelato and yogurt. The Yoplait. Strawberry-kiwi. And the coconut one too,” she added. “Why don’t I call and send my assistant to get them now.”

  “I’ll go,” she said, wondering why Gail had an assistant and what on earth that person assisted Gail with. “He’ll be knee-deep in strawberry-kiwi before his blood sugar dips.”

  Amanda laughed. Janine’s phone rang, this time Bessie Smith crooning, “If I should take a notion, to jump into the ocean…” A welcome interruption.

  “Where the fuck is everybody?” her father asked.

  “We’re coming in now.”

  “I’m sitting here with my bags like an asshole at a train depot.”

  “On our way, Dad. Okay? Hello?”

  He’d hung up.

  Bunny

  Bunny wished Martin hadn’t left. She had nobody else to tell about her farewell Gather. Mitchell, the founder of Directions, had made a florid speech and given her a diploma and a pair of black abalone earrings. As if people walked around London with endangered-sea-snail shells dangling from their ears! And yet Mitchell had been very kind, stressing how proud they all were of her and of the progress she’d made. She had done well and it felt nice to have that acknowledged. She was sober. Her nose had healed. She had a tan. And Henry was taking her to the airport tomorrow. Maybe Directions hadn’t been a complete farce after all.

  She was headed to the spa for a farewell massage when she saw Janine curled up on one of the big leather chairs facing the ocean. Martin was gone. What was Janine doing still there? She was staring at her phone, which was ringing. Bunny thought this a perfect opportunity to talk to her. After all, the girl might be pregnant with her grandson! Maybe she could help. She pulled her kimono snugly around her waist.

  “Janine?”

  Janine started.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Bunny said with what she hoped was a friendly laugh. The girl was white as paper. “Do I look that grisly?”

  “No. God, no. I just. I thought…I thought that you’d left already.”

  “I’m leaving for London tomorrow.”

  “Congratulations.” Janine started to stand up.

  “Sit, sit,” Bunny said, taking the chair next to her so that they were positioned like two passengers on a bus. Bunny’s tête-à-tête with Henry was still fresh in her mind and here was Janine, in practically the same position as Henry had been, clearly in need of her counsel as well. “Did you get your father all packed away?”

  “Yeah. He went home with Gail and my sister. I should probably go.” She didn’t make an effort to get up. “He was in such a bad mood,” Janine said after a minute. “He threw his certificate and flower in the trunk like a subpoena and a hot gun.”

  “Darling, can you blame him? A diploma and a rose?”

  “I get that ceremony isn’t his thing, but he wasn’t even reflective. I mean, is he better? Is he clean? Who knows?” She seemed to be talking more to herself than to Bunny. Bunny understood Martin’s misgivings. It wouldn’t be easy going home. All the loved ones gathering around. Dreadful. London felt like a bad memory and she was trying not to think about going back.

  “So…” Bunny began. “The carnival’s left town but here you are?”

  “I needed a minute. He’ll be happier to see me later anyway. It’s like he wants you around, but it’s better if you have someplace else to be.”

  Bunny could see that Janine was clever. And pretty, despite her pallor. Her looks weren’t an advertisement like her sister’s, but there was something about her.

  “I wouldn’t be too di
sappointed that he didn’t check out a changed man. There’s only so much that therapy and organic green shakes can do.”

  “I guess I was just hoping for a little personal growth. Or maybe a thank-you.”

  “Some people don’t go in for personal growth, or thanks, or apologies,” Bunny said, wondering if the same thing could be said about her. “But he’s an original. A deeply decent, funny man who tries to do the right thing by everyone. I think he’s top-notch.”

  “Yes,” Janine said, smiling. She visibly relaxed as she looked out at the ocean. Her phone rang again.

  Bunny felt sure it was Henry calling. She cleared her throat. “May I ask why you stopped acting, Janine?”

  Janine didn’t say anything for a minute. Then: “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” Bunny said, because she was. She could see that Janine had glued herself back together, but there were fracture lines in every gesture she made.

  “Don’t be. You didn’t even know her.”

  “My grandfather committed suicide,” Bunny said. “Not that it’s the same.”

  Janine looked at Bunny. “That’s hard.”

  Bunny suspected Janine didn’t think that counted. Losing a grandfather was not the same as losing a mother. Or maybe she just didn’t want to talk about it with Bunny. Fair enough, Bunny thought, but she wasn’t finished. “The suicidal are incapable of considering who they might be hurting other than themselves. There’s no rational thinking. They just want the pain to stop.”

  “Like alcoholics?” Janine asked. “Or drug addicts?”

  Bunny felt the reprimand like a slap. “It’s different.”

  “How’s that?”

  “My mother was destroyed, obviously. She found him. He’d shot himself. He didn’t leave a note. Then my father left her and she was forced to raise us alone. She was angry, bitter, miserable. My brother and I grew up hating her, hating each other. And we were living on the breadline on top of it all. We just wanted to get away from our childhoods as quickly as we could. Start over. And it wasn’t her fault, really. I can see that now. But that’s how it played out. His selfish act.”

  “Substance abuse is selfish too,” Janine said, not letting it go. “If you have kids. Maybe suicide is more courageous than slowly dragging everyone along.”

  Bunny knew Janine was thinking of Henry and blaming her for her bad parenting. What had Henry told her? Had he no sense of propriety? For a moment, she wanted to choke Janine.

  “I didn’t drink when Henry was small,” she said, her voice full of righteous indignation. “I turned my pain into my work.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you and Henry.”

  “No?” Bunny didn’t believe her.

  “I was thinking of my dad. Nobody wants to think of their parents as being so unhappy they have to get high alone. At least a suicide is over quickly.”

  “You’re a grim little creature, aren’t you?”

  “Sorry. I guess it all just seems sort of thankless.”

  “We all do the best we can,” Bunny said. “The key is to stay busy.”

  Janine laughed in a way that left Bunny feeling exposed. “I have to go.”

  “I asked about the acting because your father told me about the film role,” Bunny said, changing the subject, trying to get her to stay a minute longer.

  “I’m not sure I’m doing it. I have a life in New York.”

  “Do you?” Bunny asked, sensitive to the personal ground she was traversing and aware of the fact that she barely knew this girl.

  “It sounds like my dad or Henry or somebody has given you full disclosure on what a loser I am, so there’s really no need for me to be part of this conversation.”

  “Wait.” Bunny stretched her arm across Janine’s chest just as she made a move to stand. Janine sat back and looked at Bunny. “Your father adores you. He’s proud of you. You’re all he talks about.”

  Janine rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to go to the market and buy strawberry-kiwi yogurt.”

  “Nothing happens in life if you don’t do anything with it. You just get old. Inertia is a terrible thing, Janine.”

  “I’m not inert. I just know my limitations.”

  “I know that. But just look at what’s happened since you’ve been here. You took your niece to an audition and you got a part. You came to Directions to see your father and you met Henry. It seems to me the world does want you.”

  Janine bit her lip. “Who said it didn’t?”

  “You did. You say it with every decision you choose not to make. Henry says you won’t call him back.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but this has nothing to do with you.”

  “I know. But I’ve never seen him so blue. Couldn’t you forgive him for whatever he did?”

  “He didn’t do anything.”

  “For whatever he didn’t do, then. It all amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? The expectations we have. The injustices we collect. It’s just armor against being happy.”

  “I don’t love him.”

  Bunny wasn’t convinced. “You could still call him.”

  “And say what?”

  “How about telling him you’re pregnant?”

  Janine’s mouth arranged itself into a circle. “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t know. I guessed. Vomiting on a Buddha is often the first sign.”

  “Does he know?” Janine asked.

  “I suggested it might be a possibility but he didn’t believe me. He was quite ludicrous about the whole thing.”

  “Are you going to tell him?” Janine asked.

  Bunny certainly thought Henry had a right to know but she wouldn’t say anything to him. Not yet, anyway. “It’s not my place to tell him.”

  “And my dad?”

  Bunny shook her head. “No.”

  Janine grabbed her purse and stood. “I really have to go.”

  “Yes,” Bunny said. She tried to smile. “They’ll be wondering where you are.”

  Bunny watched Janine leave, knowing there was nothing more she could do. Henry would have to work things out for himself. The only thing she’d ever done well was make up stories. Disappointed children were so much easier to manage in fiction. Maybe Janine was right. Maybe it was better to know your limitations and accept them. All Bunny really wanted was a drink.

  Henry

  Henry was feeling emotional. He’d dropped his mum at the airport and had immediately driven over to see Janine. Now he wasn’t sure if it was better to wait in his car or stand in the driveway. The car seemed the more natural choice, but it would involve an element of surprise that might not be welcome. He opted for the driveway. That way he wouldn’t startle Janine. Still, there was something awkward about just standing around, staring at the gravel, whistling to himself like the village idiot.

  It struck him that he’d never actively pursued anything in his life other than his career. Certainly not a woman. Overt acts of sentimentality embarrassed him. He suddenly felt preposterous, as if he were doing an impersonation of some floppy bloke in a romantic comedy. Why on earth was he standing like an ass in her father’s driveway? It was no good. He started dashing back to his car just as Janine drove up.

  “Henry,” she said from the window. She pulled into the driveway. “What are you doing here?”

  He couldn’t help but notice that she looked a tiny bit pleased to see him. Her eyes were smiling even if her mouth wasn’t.

  “Oh. I was just, um—well. Hullo. Seeing as you’re still not returning my calls I thought I’d pop round. I wanted to ask if you were feeling better. I just dropped my mum at the airport and, well,” he said, his voice a bit too high-pitched, “I was hoping we could talk.”

  “It’s not a great time.” She got out of the car and began unloading shopping bags from the trunk. “I’m on standby market duty. I’ve been there three times since yesterday. Gail needed vegetables. My dad wanted more ice cream.”

  “Let me help you with th
at.”

  “I’ve got it. Please stop it, Henry.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Smothering me.”

  “Smothering you?” He was aghast. If there was one thing Henry had never been accused of, it was smothering. Being cold? Yes. Emotionally cut off? Without a doubt. But smothering? It was a ridiculous accusation. “That’s a ridiculous accusation!” he said.

  “Is it?” She shut the trunk while balancing one bag on her knee and one in her hand. “You have to give me some space. You have to please stop calling and texting.”

  Henry didn’t say anything for a moment. He needed to calm down. This was his mother’s fault. She’d kissed him good-bye at the airport and whispered something to him about making very certain the girl knew how he felt about her. That’s what he was doing! “I just want to talk to you, and given that you are playing some sort of game, you’ve really left me no choice but to show up unannounced.”

  “I’m not playing games. I’m not mad anymore. I’m sorry if I overreacted. I just need to sort my own stuff out.”

  “So sort. You don’t have to ignore me while you’re at it, do you? I’m trying to let you know how I feel here.”

  Her expression softened for a moment but then she arranged her face into a mask of resolution. “I can’t do this now. Things are really complicated in my life and with my family. I just can’t.”

  She slammed the driver’s door with her hip and headed toward the house.

  “Stop,” he cried, trailing after her. He felt like a clown.

  “Henry,” she said, suddenly stopping and turning to face him. “What is it you want?”

  “I don’t want anything. I just don’t want to not see you again.”