“Caleb, what are you doing?”
“I’m packing up to leave with you.”
“Did that producer send you home because of me?”
“No, he didn’t send me home. I’m leaving on my own. And I’m keeping their damn tuxedo too.”
Jane grabbed his hand and stopped him from packing. “Caleb, you can’t leave because of me.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, it does. You were fine until I arrived.”
“I’m not fine, Jane. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of embarrassing you.”
“I’m not embarrassed, Caleb. I’m proud of you.”
“But proud of me for what, Jane? For lying? For selling out? For singing silly love songs to some girl I hardly know?”
He gave up trying to pack and dropped the duffel, then sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. His hair had come loose and was hanging down.
Jane sat next to him, then leaned in to his shoulder and put her arm around his back. She knew in that moment that she couldn’t tell him. Not here; not now. He was too close to success, and his dream was too fragile yet. And if she told him, he would leave with her for sure.
“Caleb, I love you. And I’m proud of you because you had the guts to show up to that audition, and because you found the courage to come all the way out here and give this thing your all. So what if you have to play this silly game with them? We each know who we love and that’s what matters. You’re too close now to quit.”
He lifted his head and looked over at her. “You think so?”
“I do,” she answered, nodding. “I do. And if you gave up because of me tonight, I’d never get over it.”
“But they’ve got us working around the clock, Jane. I can’t even spend any time with you and it isn’t fair.”
“It’s okay, because I’m going home.”
He turned to face her fully. “No, babe. You don’t have to go.”
“I want to, Caleb. I miss our apartment, believe it or not. And I need to get back and see about my job. I left for a family emergency, remember?”
“But you don’t even like that job.”
She reached and brushed his hair away from his face, letting her fingers linger on his cheek. “Well, you had better win this thing, then, so I can quit.”
He smiled, took her hand in his, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. Then he stood and pulled her up with him. “Let’s go out on the town tonight.”
“Out on the town? You mean in L.A.? Right now?”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t it be a shame to waste this tux and that dress? We’ll pretend we’re stars and we’ll go dancing. Then I’ll take you to Canter’s Deli, where Sean took me.”
Jane looked at his face, so sweet and so kind, the gentle man inside him always peeking out from just behind those haunting green eyes. She smiled.
“Okay. What the hell. But only if we can take a cab. These heels are killing me.”
“Baby, I’m going to have the hotel order us a limo and charge it to the producer. I think it’s the least he could do.”
Caleb kissed her, then sat on the bed and picked up the hotel phone. He was waiting for the concierge to answer when she stepped in front of him and lifted her foot onto the bed beside him, then hiked up her dress, exposing her leg.
“Don’t forget you promised to take these pantyhose off for me later.”
He hung up the phone.
“Hey, what about our limo?” she asked cutely.
He leaned his head against her thigh, looked up at her like a puppy, and asked, “Can you tie a bow tie?”
“Yes,” she said. “Why?”
He grinned and stripped off his bow tie. “Because Canter’s is open all night, as is the car service.”
Then he reached up under her dress and ran his fingers along the edge of her pantyhose.
“Hey now,” she said, closing her eyes. “What are you doing in there?”
“I’m just checking your garter for your gun.”
With his head still resting on her thigh, and his hand still inside her dress, she reached down and grabbed a handful of him through his suit pants.
“Whoa,” he said. “What are you doing?”
Jane leaned her mouth down to his ear. “You checked for my gun, I’m checking for yours.”
Chapter 21
Jane took a Capital Metro bus home from the Austin airport. The cheapest last-minute flight out of Los Angeles had had a two-hour layover in Atlanta, making it a long day of travel, and her mood was progressively worsening the closer she got to home.
The bus drove beneath darkening Austin skies that were heavy with clouds, and the early evening air was hot and muggy. She saw a young teen sleeping on the bus across from her, and when the boy shifted in his seat, exposing the inside of his arm on his lap, Jane could see purple track marks there. She wanted to wake him and talk to him, she wanted to take him home and clean him up, but she reached instead and pulled the cord for her stop. She stepped off with her bag and watched the bus drive away. Then she looked across the street for any sign of Marj, but the balcony was empty, the slider was closed, and the windows were all dark.
Inside her apartment, the air-conditioning was off and the air was stale and sweltering, and it smelled of the rotten kitchen trash she had forgotten to take out in her rush to leave. She thought she had asked Marj to water the plants on her balcony, but when she opened the curtains, the plants were as dead as any Jane had ever seen. A bad feeling crept over her, so she went out into the hall and knocked on Marj’s door, but there was no answer. Jane was suddenly aware of how much she needed to talk to someone and of just how alone she actually was. She took her phone from her purse and dialed Marj, only to remember that she had a landline when she heard it ringing unanswered on the other side of the door.
She passed the evening drinking herbal tea and watching Lifetime movies on TV. It was a lonely night sleeping in her bed without Caleb—no one to whisper about love in her ear, no one beside her she could reach out and feel. Just Jane, alone again, and not even a yapping dog in the next apartment to distract her from her thoughts.
The image of the boy on the bus kept creeping into her mind. She remembered the night she had collected Melody from the hospital after her first OD. She remembered the promises Melody had made to never use again. And Jane believed now, as she had believed then, that Melody had surely meant to keep that oath with every bit of willpower she had possessed within her courageous young heart.
But willpower proved no match for the beast inside her, clawing away at her sanity in its attempt to kill her. And Jane knew all too well that a huge risk factor in that deadly disease was heredity.
She lay wide awake, staring at the dark ceiling and trying to wish the thoughts away. She found herself craving a cigarette for the first time in a long time. But even that seemed off-limits now, after her mother’s stroke.
What was left? she wondered.
Grace’s face seemed to appear from the shadows, and she heard her soothing voice saying, “Don’t be a secret, Jane.”
But Jane closed her eyes and chased the voice away with thoughts that would have seemed silly in the light of day.
Some secrets were just so hard to share.
Jane walked into the restaurant, not quite knowing what to expect. It was cool and quiet and nearly empty inside, an expensive place for lunch. She stood at the hostess station until a young woman appeared.
“Table for one, ma’am? Or would you prefer the bar?”
“No. I’m meeting someone here.”
“Oh, yes. He’s in the dining room already. Right this way.”
Jane followed her into the restaurant, walking over a bridge that crossed an interior koi pond, complete with little waterfalls and colorful lights. As they approached the table, he stood.
>
“Hello, Jane. It’s good to see you.”
“Thanks for making the time, Mr. Blanco. I appreciate it.”
“Please, call me Manuel. Mr. Blanco makes me sound old.”
“I feel the same way when people call me ma’am,” Jane replied, casting a glance at the retreating hostess.
“Then I’ll make you a deal to never call you ma’am if you never call me Mr. Blanco.”
“I’ll take that deal,” Jane said, taking her seat.
She noticed Manuel inspecting her, and it made her a little uncomfortable.
“I like this new look,” he said.
“What new look?”
He motioned up to his eyes, signaling that he was talking about her glasses. She blushed and took them off.
“They’re for driving,” she said, putting them in her purse. “I keep forgetting that I have them on.”
Then she looked around at the swanky restaurant and at Manuel’s suit. She was glad she hadn’t worn her uniform, as she’d been planning to, since her goal in arranging a meeting was to get her job back.
“How is your mother?” he finally asked.
Jane sighed. “I’m so sorry for rushing off like that. The call came and I didn’t know what to do. But she’s going to be okay. It was a ministroke.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “And I understand. Family is family.”
If he only knew, Jane thought, sipping her water. “How’s your son?” she asked.
“Chandler’s great. He’s at football practice this afternoon. Thank you for being so kind to him at the meeting.”
“He seems like a good kid,” Jane said.
Manuel smiled proudly. “He is a good kid. And he really liked you, by the way. In fact, ever since we ran into you, we’ve been watching the singer-songwriter competition together.” Then he leaned forward and in a quiet voice quickly added, “I’m sorry to bring it up.”
“Why are you sorry?” she asked.
“It must be hard for you.”
“Hard for me?”
“I just assumed it would be difficult,” he said, picking up his menu. “Seeing what’s happened. And on live TV too.” He glanced up, as if to gauge Jane’s reaction. “Listen, I can empathize. I’ve been dating younger people myself. It seems like everyone our age is taken. I met a girl on Match.com and brought her here, and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how she acted. It was terrible. When our food arrived, she took a photo of her plate and spent five minutes posting it to Instagram before we could even eat. And after guzzling two glasses of wine, she climbed onto my lap and took a dozen selfies of us. Is that what you call them? Anyway, everything’s a hashtag with these kids. It’s like it didn’t happen unless they tweet about it. It isn’t easy getting older and feeling left behind, is it? But we don’t need to talk about your breakup if you don’t want to.” He closed his menu. Then he smiled at Jane. “It’s nice being here with someone close to my own age.”
“Caleb and I didn’t break up,” Jane said.
Manuel looked confused. “But I saw him and that other girl . . .”
“Jordyn? Yeah, that’s just for TV.”
“I don’t know,” he said, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “Their attraction looked pretty real to me.”
Before Jane could say anything further, their server arrived to take their order. Jane was still stewing over his comment and could hardly think, so she ordered soup and a salad. When the server had taken their menus and left, she leaned forward in her chair and spoke with a clear, measured voice.
“Not that it should matter, but Caleb and that girl are not together. It’s just some marketing ploy put on by the show’s producers. I was just there with him; I should know. So I don’t need to be patronized as if I’m some poor older woman who’s been left by her younger lover.”
“What do you mean, you were just there?”
“I mean I saw it with my own eyes. It’s all made-up lies and trick photography.”
“So you made up a lie about your mother having a stroke so you could go off to L.A.?”
“No, I wasn’t lying.”
“Then why were you there and not Seattle?”
“I just stopped in on my way home. Does it matter?”
He shook his head. “No. I guess it doesn’t matter. Listen, Jane, about the job. We had to make other arrangements while you were gone.”
“What other arrangements?”
“You were still in your review period, and you just up and left without approval.”
“So you replaced me?”
“There was nothing I could do.”
“Then why did you agree to meet with me?”
“Because I wanted to tell you in person. That’s fair, isn’t it? And after we met at the meeting . . . after I saw the show . . . I was thinking . . . you know . . . I thought maybe we could see each other personally . . . outside of work.”
“Oh, I see. I’m the new girl in the Al-Anon group, so you just thought you could take me out and buy me lunch and thirteenth-step me. Is that it?”
“No. It’s not like that.”
“Then you tell me what it’s like.”
“I thought I felt something between us.”
“Do I have a job or not, Mr. Blanco?”
He looked at her across the table, and she thought she saw genuine sadness in his eyes. For what, she couldn’t be sure. He gently shook his head and Jane stood up to go.
“Don’t leave,” he said. “I’m happy to just be a friend.”
Jane reached into her purse and tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table.
He appeared hurt by the gesture. “That’s not necessary,” he said.
But Jane had already turned and was walking away. She was crossing the koi pond when she slipped on the wooden bridge and nearly twisted her ankle. She knew he was watching, but she straightened herself up and continued on her way. When she got outside, a wind had come up and people were hurrying past with their hands up to hold their hair in place or to hold on to their hats. A newspaper went blowing by. But Jane faced into the wind and let her hair fly, marching back to her car. However, when she arrived where she had parked, she looked around, confused. Her car was gone. Then she noticed the ELECTRIC VEHICLES ONLY parking sign. It was a free charging station.
Oh, the irony, she thought, if that’s what irony even means.
She briefly considered going back into the restaurant and apologizing to Mr. Blanco, then asking for a ride to the impound lot. She knew she had been too hard on him and that it wasn’t his fault that she was upset. But she couldn’t face him again. And besides, she thought, it wasn’t even losing the job that she was worried over. It was something else entirely.
She saw a bus approaching the stop across the street and she ran to catch it. She wasn’t even sure where it was going, but she didn’t care. Take me anywhere, she said silently to herself, climbing aboard, anywhere but right here, right now.
She slid a dollar into the pay slot and went and sat in the back. There were maybe a dozen other riders, equally dispersed among the seats so as to avoid any possible human contact. And Jane was okay with that. She sat and watched the scenery slide by outside her window and she thought about her life, about her hopes and dreams, about her losses and her disappointments. She wanted things back the way they had been, before she’d learned the news, back when she could leave the past in the past and not have a constant reminder growing inside her.
Above the bus windows were poster advertisements for iced coffee and cell phones and car tires, and Jane noticed one for Planned Parenthood. She got out her cell phone and went onto the website. Two bus transfers and an hour later, she was standing in front of the building.
Two picketers sat on the sidewalk next to homemade signs. They were eating sandwiches and they had an air about them of havi
ng given up. When they saw Jane, one of them switched his sandwich to his other hand, then picked up his sign and held it out for her to read.
YOU DON’T NEED BIRTH CONTROL,
YOU NEED SELF-CONTROL!
Jane resisted the urge to say something smart and walked past them to the entrance. The first door brought her into a vestibule with another locked door and a call box. She pressed the button and waited. She expected a voice to come on the speaker and she was wondering what she’d say, when there was a loud buzzing and the inner door popped open. The reception room was bright and quiet and clean. It reminded Jane of every other medical building she’d ever been in. The woman behind the counter seemed tired, but she was friendly enough when she asked Jane if she had an appointment.
“No,” Jane said, “I don’t. But I’d like to talk with someone about an . . . abortion.”
It was a hard word for Jane to say, but the woman showed no reaction to hearing it as she handed her a clipboard of forms to fill out. She wrote out her insurance information and medical history, including the birth of her daughter, then handed the forms back and sat down to wait. There were a few others in the waiting room, but it wasn’t a place for idle chitchat, so she picked up a copy of Women’s Health and passed the time by reading an article on eating healthy for glowing skin.
An hour later, a young woman came out and called Jane’s name, then led her into a back room. She said they needed a urine sample, and gave her a container and left her alone. When Jane had filled it, she knocked on the door as she’d been instructed, and a minute later the woman came back in. She checked the urine with a simple test strip and wrote something down on the chart.
Then she brought Jane to another room and introduced her to a doctor. He had beautiful brown skin and kind amber eyes. He said his name was Adam and asked Jane if she was okay talking with a male doctor; she said that she was. He offered Jane a seat. Then he sat across from her and spent a minute reading over her paperwork. The room was absolutely silent, not even a clock ticking on the wall.
“So,” he finally said, setting the clipboard aside to look at her, “you have one child now.”
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