by Lacey London
To donate my eggs to the Lakes when he feels so uncomfortable with it would be unfair of me, but right now the Janie situation is causing me more concern. I have tried asking him nicely. I have tried giving Janie the cold shoulder and I have tried screaming until my throat is sore. I’m afraid to admit that I am running out of cards to play. Apart from demanding that it is me or her, I don’t really know what else I can do.
Leaving the boys to use the lift, I decide to take the stairs in a bid to work off the mountain of cheese I’ve consumed. As I march up the steps, I try to ignore the burning in my thighs and power on through. Talk about a rollercoaster of a day. I can’t remember the last time I experienced this whirlwind of emotions in such a short space of time. I’ve been up and down more times than a damn yo-yo.
Coming to a stop at our floor, I hold on to the railing and pause for breath. Between kicking Janie into touch and telling Eve that I’m not going to be the one who gives her what her heart desires, I have to find some time to get my arse to the gym. I am talking myself out of liposuction when Noah appears in front of me.
‘Jeez! What took you so long?’ He sticks out his tongue and reaches up to tug open the door. ‘A snail is faster than you!’
‘Don’t be cheeky.’ I whisper, gasping for breath. ‘And I think you will find that before you came along, I was in pretty good shape.’
Sticking out his tongue, he runs ahead and catches up with Oliver, who is busy trying to get his key in the door. As usual, Pumpkin’s snout is the first thing we see. She whines happily as Noah embraces her in a huge bear hug, clearly ecstatic that her best friend is home. I let out a yawn and unzip my coat as I follow the pair of them inside. A trip to the gym might be edging its way up my to-do list, but right now there’s a bubble bath with my name written all over it. Stripping off my coat, I hang it on the back of a chair and let out a sigh, hoping that Oliver won’t protest at me having a little me time.
‘I’ll sort out Noah and Pumpkin.’ Oliver mumbles, tossing his jacket onto the couch.
Taking that as my cue to escape, I nod in response and mouth thank you at him before disappearing into our bedroom. Dropping down onto the bed, I remove my jewellery and kick off my shoes. Without Janie here, the apartment is beautifully silent, a silence I’ve rarely heard since the day she arrived. I stretch out on the bed and savour the moment. Allowing myself a few wonderful minutes, I inhale deeply and feel my stomach rise and fall. This is how life used to be. Life before Janie seems so out of reach now, it’s almost like it has been erased from my memory. Oh, what I would give to go back to the days where my biggest worry was my mother’s latest inking.
Not bothering to reach for my dressing gown, I strip down to my knickers and head for the bathroom. Tearing out my hair clamp, I push open the door and let out an almighty scream. Sprawled out in my beloved roll top bath with her spindly legs draped over the rim, Janie throws back what looks like my champagne and flashes me a wink. Snatching a towel from the rack, I hold it against my body in horror as my heart pounds in my chest.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I yell, not caring that the window is open, meaning that the rest of the apartment block will be able to hear me. ‘Get out!’ Pointing at the door, my bottom lip trembles with fury. ‘I said get out! Now!’
Clearly finding my infuriated state amusing, Janie twirls her fingers around the stem of the glass and laughs. Her bronzed skin looks ridiculous against the white bubbles, which I can tell from across the room have come from my precious Jo Malone bath oils.
‘I mean it, Janie.’ I am so angry that despite my efforts to stop it, my voice begins to wobble. ‘Get out right now.’
‘Jeez! Who died and made you queen of the world?’ Boldly pouring another glass, she pulls herself to her feet and stands up straight.
Not bothering to conceal her modesty, she brushes away the bubbles and walks straight past the towel rack completely naked. Over the years I have become quite used to Janie’s strange obsession with wearing little or no clothing, but I still don’t want to see her over inflated chest if I can help it.
‘Would you mind covering yourself up?’ I scowl and throw a dressing gown in her direction, which she lets fall straight to the floor. ‘We don’t all what to see your lady parts.’
‘Well, why doesn’t that surprise me?’ She throws back her head and cackles. ‘I suppose your vagina is made of flowers and rainbows, huh?’
Slamming the bathroom door shut behind her, I march over to the tub and yank the chain. For a moment I contemplate letting it go, but a sudden rush of adrenaline takes over my body and I am powerless to stop it. Tying the towel in a tight knot around my body, I throw open the door and prepare myself for a fight. She’s not getting away with it this time. Following the path of wet footprints across the carpet, I march out into the living room.
Thankfully, Janie is now wrapped up in Oliver’s robe, but unbelievably she is still drinking my champagne.
‘Why were you in my bath?’ I hiss, folding my arms angrily. ‘Why were you in my bath when there’s a perfectly good bath in your room?’
‘Mine needed cleaning!’ She protests, waving her arms around in that nonchalant manner that makes my blood boil.
‘Then clean it!’ I yell, my stomach churning with anger.
She rolls her eyes and I look over at Oliver for backup. Maddeningly, he just shrugs his shoulders and pretends to be captivated by Noah’s tablet.
‘I’m sensing that you’re a little sensitive about your bath...’ Janie giggles and drapes her bare legs over the arm of the chair.
‘I’m not sensitive about my bath! I’m sensitive about my rude mother-in-law using it when she’s already made a mess of my other bloody bathtub!’
Janie runs her fingers through her matted hair and frowns at her many split ends. ‘Lighten up! It’s just a bath!’
‘It’s just a bath.’ Noah repeats from his position on the couch, looking at me as though I am a mental patient.
Oliver glances up and nods in agreement. They don’t get it, do they? None of them get how difficult this woman is to live with. Tears prick in the corners of my eyes as I turn on my heels and stomp back into the bedroom. I won’t let myself cry in front of Noah, I won’t. Dropping down onto the bed, I lean forward and hold my head in my hands. Why does she get to me so bloody much? No one else in the entire world makes me as angry as she does. It’s her outrageousness, her complete and utter refusal to be a normal person. The way that she takes everything for granted and crosses the line every single day. She’s like a naughty child, pushing the boundaries and waiting for a reaction. A wise man once told me that a bad attitude is like a flat tyre, you can’t go anywhere until you change it. Ironically, Janie actually isn’t going anywhere.
Pacing around the bedroom, my eyes land on the huge photo above our bed and I let out a sob. Lianna made this for me before she left for Barbados. We spent weeks rifling through my old memory boxes and photo albums. I still remember the moment she gave it to me as we waited for our ride to the airport. The pretty canvas is covered in a collage of one hundred snapshot images. Everything from our first night out together to my pregnancy pictures and wedding day photographs are compiled in a beautiful timeline. Lianna has created a vision of my life over the years and looking at it now, I don’t think I know what the next pictures are going to be.
I know this is going to sound dramatic, but I can feel Oliver slipping away from me. I can see it every time we have a cross word about Janie. Every time I flash her a glare and every time that I dare to say something vaguely derogatory about his precious mother. Where has his sudden protective nature over Janie come from? I ask myself that question every single day and I still don’t have an answer. I look down at my wedding ring and feel a fresh surge of determination. I’m not going to let Janie come between Oliver and I, at least, not without a fight. Pushing myself to my feet, I swap my towel for a pair of pyjamas and twist my hair up into a bun. My reflection stares back at me as I throw op
en the door once more, reminding me that my marriage is something worth fighting for.
Still sprawled across the armchair, Janie smiles up at me as though there hasn’t been a cross word between us, only fuelling my fire.
‘Janie, can I talk to you, please?’ It takes everything I have to keep my voice light, but inside I am about thirty seconds from crumbling.
Oliver glances over and turns up the volume on the television, clearly sensing that all hell is about to break loose.
‘Sure.’ Handing me the now empty glass, she rolls out of the chair lazily and waits for me to speak.
‘Not here.’ I hiss, pushing her towards the spare bedroom. ‘I want to talk to you alone.’
Not daring to look back at Oliver, I follow her inside and allow the door to slowly close behind me. Janie drops her towel and I shield my eyes as she tugs on a pair of hot pink and totally inappropriate pyjamas. This damn room is worse than I have ever seen it and it takes me a good few minutes to find a spot where I can stand and not be violated by her belongings.
‘What is it that you wanna talk about?’ Janie gives me a smile that says she knows exactly what I want to talk about, but she’s going to enjoy playing with me first.
Taking a deep breath, I decide to stop beating around the bush and come straight out with it. ‘Well, this for a start.’ I motion to the pigsty that is surrounding me. ‘Look at this place! It’s an absolute mess!’
She casts her eyes over the room and gives me a swift nod in response. ‘OK, then I’ll clean it up.’
‘You… you will?’ I ask, a little shocked by her willingness to cooperate.
‘Yeah.’ She reaches down and grabs a pile of dirty laundry from the floor.
Shaking my head in an attempt to regain my train of thought, I bite my lip and watch in amazement as she gets to work at changing the bed.
‘Why haven’t you cleaned it up before now?’
Janie shrugs her shoulders and scans the room for fresh bedding. ‘You’ve never asked me to.’
Passing her a new duvet set from the wardrobe, I rack my brains and try to recall the many times I have told her to sort out this mess. ‘Well, I shouldn’t have to ask you. You’re a grown up, you should just do it.’
She chuckles and studies a bottle of neon polish that falls out from her pillowcase. ‘Clara, when have I ever been classed as a grown up?’
Panic sets in when I realise that she’s about to paint her nails on my Egyptian cotton sheets. Turning to face the window, I look down at the busy street below.
‘It’s not just the room, Janie. It’s everything. You’re rude, you swear in front of Noah, you bring random men here, you don’t respect anything that I say…’ My voice trails off as I hear a sudden squawk behind me.
‘You’re kidding, right?’ She whispers, her face falling as she realises I am serious. ‘Why didn’t you say something before?’
My jaw drops open as I spin around to look at her. ‘I’ve tried to say something! Come on, Janie. You know that you’ve crossed the line with me.’
‘I always cross the line! That’s who I am. You knew what I was like when you agreed to have me come live here.’
I pause for a moment, wondering if I am going to regret what I am about to say. ‘That’s the thing, I didn’t agree to having you live with us.’ Janie opens her mouth to speak, but my tongue seems to have a life of its own. ‘What I did agree to was having you with us for a little while whilst you sorted yourself out. This was never supposed to be a permanent fixture.’
We stare at each other in an excruciating silence and I suddenly hate myself for ever starting this conversation.
‘Are you saying that you want me to leave?’ She murmurs, a look of devastation washing over her taught face. ‘Where would I go?’
I bite my lip and start to feel incredibly guilty. ‘I don’t know, but you can’t stay here forever. You know that, don’t you?’
Janie collapses onto the bed and pulls the sheets over her legs. ‘No, Clara. I did not know that. I did not know that at all.’
I rub my throbbing temples and close my eyes, not really knowing where to go from here. It’s only when I force myself to open them again that I notice Janie has tugged her leopard print suitcase from beneath the bed. I am about to ask her what she is doing when the door squeaks open.
‘What’s going on in here?’ Oliver asks, obviously annoyed at walking in on a scene similar to that of the other day. ‘This is becoming something of a habit.’
‘I’m packing.’ Janie squeaks, picking up random thongs and tossing them into the suitcase.
‘What?’ Oliver looks at me furiously and reaches out for his mother’s arm. ‘Why?’
‘Clara has made it quite clear that I have over stayed my welcome.’ She shoots me a pitiful look and tugs up the straps on her camisole.
‘Alright, this has gone far enough.’ Oliver ushers Pumpkin out of the room and looks between the two of us. ‘I’m going to put Noah to bed and then the three of us and are going to sit down and talk this out.’
I screw up my nose and scowl, really not wanting to get into yet another argument. Hearing him inform Noah that it’s time for bed, I rub my face and try to avoid making eye contact with Janie. Confrontation has never been my strong point, especially when it involves the people that I love. No matter how much I rehearse it, I let my heart rule my head and keep my real opinions hidden, meaning that I am the one to lose out every single time. I am debating returning to my room to cry when Oliver pops his head around the door for a second time.
‘Alright, get your butts out here.’ He bangs his hand on the wall and motions for us to follow him.
Feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, I exhale sharply and give him a quick nod before following him into the kitchen. I notice that he’s poured three drinks and I pull a glass towards me before taking a seat at the far end of the bar. Not wanting to look at Janie until I absolutely have to, I take a sip of wine and try to steady my breathing. I can already tell that I’m going to come off the bad guy in this. If Oliver tries to make me the villain in this piece I am going to lose it. I sneak a peek at Janie, who is sitting on her stool with a little girl lost expression plastered on her face. She certainly didn’t look like that when she was lay spread eagle in my roll top bath.
‘So, how are we going to do this?’ Oliver sighs and swigs from his beer bottle. ‘Do we need a talking cushion or are you two gonna be grown-ups?’
I look down at my feet and fiddle with the stem of my glass, secretly hoping that we do go with the talking cushion idea.
‘We don’t need a cushion.’ Janie sniffs and throws back the contents of her glass in one gulp. ‘Clara has made her feelings towards me staying here crystal clear…’
I roll my eyes and rest my elbows on the table. ‘Janie, you must understand where I am coming from with this?’
‘No, Clara. I don’t understand. I don’t understand at all.’ She wipes a tear from her cheek and I try to work out if this is solely for Oliver’s benefit. ‘You told me to make myself at home and that’s exactly what I did.’
I squint suspiciously at her and wonder if those are crocodile tears. ‘I feel like I have been more than fair with you, Janie, but it’s like you go out of your way to annoy me and despite what you say, I genuinely believe that you enjoy doing it.’
Janie scoffs as though this is the most outrageous thing she has ever heard. ‘Well, I can assure you that most certainly is not the case.’
‘You can’t think that your behaviour has been acceptable?’ Oliver kicks me under the table and I choose to ignore it. ‘You tell me that swearing in front of Noah, bringing men here for God knows what and treating our home like some cheap hotel is OK and I won’t say another word about it.’
‘I’ve been through a pretty tough time, Clara.’ She shakes her head and looks at Oliver with glassy eyes. ‘I guess I have let my hair down a little, but that’s only because of what happened to me...’
‘What happene
d to you? People go through a lot worse than a bloody divorce, Janie. Isn’t it about time that you moved on? I mean, it was you that orchestrated the damn divorce!’
‘That doesn’t mean that I’m not hurting about it!’ She retorts, any sadness in her voice melting away.
‘Well, you weren’t hurting about it when you were cavorting around Orlando with a spotty teenager!’
‘I’m gonna step in here and say that was a little harsh.’ Oliver points his beer at me and frowns, evidently not happy at being reminded of his mother’s infamous conquests.
‘But it’s true!’ I protest, starting to feel like I am being ganged up on. ‘This was a temporary arrangement, Janie…’
Her bottom lip trembles and I suddenly feel pretty bad. After all these months of pent up anger and frustration, you would think it would feel better to get things off my chest.
‘I’m not saying that I haven’t enjoyed having you here.’ My cheeks colour up as I blatantly lie. ‘I’m just concerned that in the time you have spent with us, you don’t seem to have made any plans at all for your future.’
‘She does have a point.’ Oliver chips in, making my jaw drop open with shock. ‘What are your plans for the future?’
I look at Janie with bated breath, praying to every known God that she wants to book the next flight back to America. Obviously caught off guard, she looks between Oliver and myself cautiously. ‘I guess I haven’t put much thought into it...’
Oliver nods, looking deep in thought as he reaches down to stroke Pumpkin. ‘That’s understandable, but I do think Clara has raised a valid argument. We should start to formulate a plan to get you back on your feet.’