Jane's Melody

by Ryan Winfield

  The floor seemed to move beneath her feet as she made her way into the bathroom. She turned the water on lukewarm and ran a bath, brushing her teeth while she waited for it to fill. She tried gargling with Scope, but the taste of alcohol made her nauseous, and she spit it out as soon as it hit her tongue. She stripped off her underwear, wondering where her clothes from the night before had gone, and lowered herself into the water.

  She shaved her legs, nicking herself a few times because her vision was still blurry, and shampooed and conditioned her hair. When she had dried off from her bath, she found her favorite sundress and slipped it on and applied some light makeup in the mirror, trying her best to cover the dark circles beneath her eyes with concealer. But not too much—she didn’t want to look all gussied up either, like some hung-over hussy making a walk of shame.

  When she’d done the best she could, she plucked up her courage and went to find Caleb in the yard.

  The sun was up over the roof of the house and shining on his bare back where he worked in the garden, digging rows for seed. He stopped to watch her walk toward him.

  “Well, good morning, Sunshine.”

  “Good morning,” she said, trying to sound chipper.

  “Sleep okay?”

  “Waking up was a little rough.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m sure it was.”

  “Oh, God,” she said. “Just tell me. How bad was I?”

  “How much do you remember?”

  “Not much.”

  “Well, that’s probably best.”

  “That bad?”

  “No,” he chuckled. “I’m just screwing with you. You got a little sick is all.”

  “Did I get sick on you?”

  “No, the sidewalk outside the Pub. You got your clothes pretty good though. I ran them in the wash this morning.”

  She hung her head, ashamed.

  “I’m so sorry, Caleb. You must hate me.”

  “No way,” he said. “I could never hate you, babe.”

  “Not even a little?”

  “Nope. Not even a little. But I’ll tell you, I never knew you could sing so well.”

  “Sing? I remember dancing, but please, for the love of God, don’t tell me I was singing too.”

  “Oh, yeah, you were. You sang me all the Guns N’ Roses hits on the ferry ride back.”

  He must have seen how embarrassed she was, because he stuck the hoe in the dirt, walked to the edge of the garden, stepped over the railroad tie, and hugged her.

  When she looked up into his eyes, he was smiling.

  “I warned you about that Red Bull.”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m never drinking again.”

  “Well, now, it wouldn’t be a proper hangover without a swearing off.”

  “I mean it, though.”

  “How about coffee?” he asked. “You drinking coffee?”

  “I’d love some.”

  “Come on. I’ll make you breakfast.”

  After a light breakfast and several cups of strong coffee, Jane began to feel like herself again. Her headache subsided to a manageable ache, and her initial fear of having upset Caleb last night dissipated as he doted on her in the kitchen.

  “Shoot,” she said, suddenly realizing that it was Saturday.

  “What’s wrong?” Caleb asked.

  “I missed my Saturday morning meeting. First time in five years. Can you imagine missing an Al-Anon meeting because you’re hung-over?”

  He shrugged.

  “Maybe you’re in the wrong program.”

  “Ha-ha,” she said. “Very funny.”

  He grinned at her smugly.

  “Give yourself a break,” he said. “Relax a little. You could help me in the garden.”

  “What are you planting out there?”

  “Well, I got some lettuce and carrots down already. I plan on maybe some summer squash. Got arugula too. I wanted to plant you tomatoes, but Ralph at the hardware store said they needed to be sowed inside first. Might plant potatoes instead.”

  Jane was impressed.

  “Wow! Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Well, I’ve never told anyone this before, and it’s a little embarrassing, but I can’t kill spiders.”

  “You can’t? How can you be afraid of spiders?”

  “I’m not afraid of them. I just can’t kill them. I can’t kill any insect, really. But I’ll transplant them outside.”

  “But you eat meat,” she said.

  “Of course.”

  “Well, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Do you eat insects?” he asked.

  “That’s not even—” she stopped herself short and shook her head. “You’re a strange man, Caleb Cummings.”

  He sipped his coffee and smiled at her across the table.

  “What about a mosquito?” she asked.

  “I guess I’ve killed one or two,” he said. “But it was self-defense, I swear.”

  Caleb stood to fill his mug, but the pot was empty.

  “You want me to brew more coffee?”

  “Not unless you want it,” she said. “I’m good. I could use a manicure, though. Why don’t you come to town with me?”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “I think I’d rather work in the garden.”

  “The garden can wait.”

  “No way,” he said, “I’m not getting roped into that again.”

  “Come on; you liked it the last time.”

  “I did not. And you really need to get a girlfriend to do this stuff with.”

  “But you’re so much more fun.”

  He bent over and kissed her.

  “The answer’s no. But I’ll make you a deal. I’m taking you to dinner tonight. Just the two of us.Somewhere nice.”

  “Dinner?Really?What for?”

  “Because it’s Saturday and I’d like to take you out. Does a man need more reason than that?”

  “You said it was a deal. What do I have to do?”

  “You have to promise to put out at the end of the night.”

  “I think I can do that.”

  “And you have to promise to stick with drinking water.”

  She laughed.

  “Can it at least have bubbles?”

  “It can have bubbles.”

  AS JANE SAT IN THE PEDICURE CHAIR, flipping through a three-month old issue of Cosmopolitan, she saw a picture that reminded her of Michelle from the Pub last night. She hated the jealousy that it aroused in her. Plus, now that she thought about it, she was just a little upset that Caleb hadn’t mentioned anything about having dated her.

  “You want your usual French?” the pedicurist asked.

  Jane shook her head.

  “Let’s do something different today. How about that black cherry polish over there? On the top shelf. I saw it last time.”

  After having her toes painted and her nails to match, she walked across the street to her hair salon.

  The girl behind the counter smiled at her.

  “Hi, Jane. Don’t we usually see you during the week?”

  “I don’t have an appointment, but I hoped maybe Sharon could squeeze me in.”

  The girl frowned.

  “Sorry. She’s not working today. But Tyler could see you.”

  “Do you think Sharon would mind if I did? It’s kind of an emergency appointment.”

  After reassuring Jane that her regular stylist wouldn’t mind at all, the girl offered her a bottle of water and asked her to wait while Tyler finished with his current client. Jane sat in the small waiting area and looked out the window at people passing by. She avoided the fashion magazines. It wasn’t long until she was seated in Tyler’s chair and looking at herself in the mirror as he stood behind her, lifting her hair in his fingers and letting it fall.

  “Oh, you’d look so cute with it short,” he said.

  What was it about male stylists, Jane wondered, that they always wanted to chop off her hair?
/>
  She shook her head.

  “I’m thinking just a trim. But I’d like to add highlights.”

  He lifted a hand to his cheek theatrically.

  “We can do that. We can definitely do that. Maybe foil in a little natural highlight for you. Give you that just-home-from-Cabo look everyone loves.”

  “I was thinking more chunky. You know, dramatic.”

  “Okay, so a younger look. We can do that. But you sure you don’t want me to bob it first? You’d look so cute.”

  “I’m sure. Just the highlights.”

  By the time he finished her hair, it was late afternoon and the salon was closing. She didn’t have time to really get used to her new appearance before leaving, so she sat in her car and looked at herself in the mirror. He’d done what she had asked him to, and it was impossible to miss. She liked it. She did. She just wished she’d gone with something a little more subtle.

  When she got home, the bike was gone from the garage. She assumed Caleb was over at Mrs. Hawthorne’s place again. What exactly he did for that woman and why, she couldn’t imagine. All she knew was that he had better be home in time for their date. She went inside to pick out a dress for dinner.

  She was ready and watching through the kitchen window when she saw him ride up and stow the bike. He came through the garage door in a rush, and then froze mid-step in the entrance to the kitchen when he saw her.

  “Wow,” he said.

  She spun around so he could see the dress.

  “You like it?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. But I would like to grab you right now and show you how much I love it. Except I’m covered in dust and dirt. You look amazing, Jane. Really amazing.”

  “Do you like my hair?”

  “It looks different. What did you do?”

  “Just some highlights. Too much you think?”

  “No. I like it. I liked it the other way too. But this is nice.”

  Not exactly the response Jane had been hoping for.

  “Let me just rinse off really quickly,” he said. “I won’t be a few minutes.”

  Oh, how wonderful it must be sometimes to be a man, she thought, when he stepped back into the kitchen less than ten minutes later, looking dapper in a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt that Jane hadn’t seen before.

  “Well,” she said, admiring him, “I guess I’m not the only one with surprises in my closet. Where’d you get that shirt?”

  “I picked it up in town the other day, before the barbeque. I wanted to have some options to look good for your friends.”

  He held out his hand for her.

  “Shall we go, my lady?”

  “Isn’t this lovely? Are you going to lead me to your horse and carriage now, my sir?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you’d hand over the car keys.”

  She laughed.

  He drove her to the nicest restaurant in town, a quiet little steakhouse known for great service, even though its name was Slacker Jack’s. She was impressed when Caleb told the captain that he’d made a reservation under his name. The captain led them to a private table lit with candles, and Caleb pulled her chair out for her before sitting himself. A perfect gentleman.

  After their server had explained the specials, Caleb ordered a bacon-wrapped filet, and Jane went with the halibut cheeks. They asked for a bottle of sparkling water, and when the server brought it to the table and presented it to him, Caleb joked that he hoped it was a good year. They talked quietly during their meal, and the attention Caleb paid to her made her feel like a real lady. And it felt good.

  They were looking over dessert menus when Jane opened her purse and slid an envelope across the table to Caleb.

  “What’s that?”

  “The rest of your pay.”

  Caleb weighed the envelope in his hand, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to accept it or not. Then he tucked it away in his back pocket and smiled at her.

  “And I’m picking up dinner tonight, too,” Jane said.

  He shook his head.

  “Please,” she said. “I’d like to make up for last night.”

  “You can make up for that when we got home. Do you have any idea how cheated I felt last night because I couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of you while you were drunk?”

  Jane almost spit her water.

  “Yeah, right.Like you’d have wanted anything to do with me last night while I was puking all over myself.”

  “You were actually really hot on the dance floor. Before you kind of tipped over the line there.”

  “Was I as hot as Michelle?”

  “Michelle?”

  “Yeah. You know, Michelle from last night.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come on, I saw you looking at her. And I can’t blame you. She’s very pretty. Plus, she’s obviously still into you.”

  Jane looked down at her dessert menu, as if what she had just said meant nothing to her at all.

  “Is that what this is about? The new hair and everything? You think you need to compete with Michelle?”

  “Oh, I’m competing with her now, am I?”

  “No. You’re not competing with anyone. Why would you even think that?”

  “You didn’t tell me you two had dated.”

  “When would I have told you? I didn’t even know she was going to be there last night. Zach invited her.”

  They were interrupted when the server came over to take their dessert orders. Caleb chose the carrot cake; Jane said she didn’t want anything. When the server had left again, she said:

  “Let’s face it; I’m just too old for you.”

  Caleb leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling, as if imploring some god above for patience.

  “I’m so tired of hearing about your age. Why is it that no one has a problem with it except you? You’re the only one who even brings it up, Jane. Ever.”

  “Really? Like that bouncer at the pub last night who didn’t even want to see my ID? They check everyone’s ID there.”

  “Come on, Jane. He waved you through because you were obviously there with me.”

  “Whatever. What about Michelle then—making her rude comments about the eighties coming back?”

  “Listen, Michelle’s a bitch. Sorry. I hate to use that word, but she is. She is and she always has been. We dated for like a minute. You’ve got to get over it, Jane.”

  “You mean she’s not the steady girl you said you dated for six months?”

  “No. That girl moved to Boston for school.”

  “What about the girl you wrote the song about?”

  “I told you. She’s raising kids in Redmond. Jesus, Jane, get off this weird insecurity kick you’re on. It’s starting to be a buzz kill for real.”

  They were interrupted by the server delivering the carrot cake. He brought two forks, as any good server should. When he had retreated again, Jane sighed.

  “I’m sorry, Caleb.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry.”

  “But I am.”

  He reached over and took her hand.

  “I love you, Jane. Just the way you are. Just the age you are. I know it might have been hard to know if I was here for the job or not before, but now the job’s done, and the money’s in my back pocket, and I’m still here. I’m here because I want to be here. All my life I thought there was nothing I could ever love like I love music. But then I met you.”

  Jane looked across the table at his face as he spoke. The candlelight reflected in his eyes, and she could see that he meant what he said. In fact she couldn’t recall having ever heard one dishonest word cross his very kissable lips, except when he let her believe he knew Melody better than he did. Maybe all this insecurity of hers was born from silly fear—fear she’d conjured up herself because she didn’t feel worthy of being happy.

  “You really love me that much?” she asked.

  “What can I do to prove
it to you?”

  She bit her lip cutely and smiled at him.

  “How about sharing your carrot cake?”

  HE TOOK HER HOME and made love to her twice.

  The first time was filled with pent-up need and passion; the second time was tender and slow. She lay awake in his arms long after, not wanting to sleep, even though she was tired. She felt so good, and she was terrified the feeling might slip away while she slept. For the first time there was nothing between them. No work he needed to do, no money that she owed him. They were finally equals in everything, including love.

  She kissed his chest and said:

  “I hope you’ll love me forever.”

  But she fell asleep before he could answer.

  Chapter 21

  JANE HAD JUST ENOUGH TIME between sales appointments to catch the noon ferry into the city to retrieve her credit card from the Paradigm Pub. She couldn’t recall a more gorgeous spring day in Seattle. People seemed to be out everywhere—jogging the waterfront, riding bicycles, walking dogs. She even saw a group of tourists clumsily balancing on Segways as their guide led them along the pier. What ever happened to Segways, she wondered. Weren’t they supposed to change the world?

  The pub was cool, dark, and empty. The weather was too nice for anyone to lunch inside, with the exception of one poor guy who was already half drunk and picking idly at a bowl of bar peanuts.

  Jane looked around for the bartender.

  The man cracked a peanut on the bar with his fist.

  “You know what the peanut said to the elephant?”

  Jane turned toward him. He looked harmless enough.

  “No,” she said. “What did the peanut say to the elephant?”

  “Nothing. Peanuts can’t talk.”

  He slapped his knee and laughed outrageously, as if he’d just brought down the house. When he got a hold on himself, he cracked another peanut and popped it in his mouth.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “They can’t talk. And I can prove it. The bartender told me these were complimentary peanuts. But I’ve been sitting here two hours now, and not one of them has said anything nice to me at all.”

  He laughed and slapped his knee again.

  Jane heard clinking glass and was saved from another bad joke by the bartender, carrying out a box of bottles from the back. He set them on the bar and addressed her:

  “You looking for lunch or just drinks?”