Still curled in the chair, Jana felt anything but tense. It was after three, and she had to get up at eight, but it should be easy to get to sleep now.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
AT FOUR O’CLOCK on Monday, Jana stepped off the plane, and there was Ed waiting for her. He’d gotten a piece of poster board and written REPLANSKY on it, like the limousine drivers carried. With one of her pastels, he’d drawn a flower in the corner. She fell into his arms, hardly believing her eyes.
Yes, she’d been missed. “It’s sometimes so comfortable when we’re together that I find myself taking you for granted,” he told her. They needed to spend more quiet, passionate time with each other. Tonight he planned to make up for lost time—he’d take her back to the apartment, carry her over the threshold and straight into the bedroom. “I’ve got a bottle of wine breathing on the table, and dinner just has to be popped in the oven—filet of sole wrapped around asparagus with hollandaise sauce.” They’d work so hard at loving that they’d both be famished.
“Sounds fantastic.” Jana pushed through the crowd to get a better view as the bags began circling. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
It was almost five by the time they got out of the parking lot; most of the traffic was headed in the other direction, but driving through the city created an edge of tension that put thoughts of ravishing his girlfriend on the back burner. They walked in, poured wine, and Ed put the fish in the oven and boiled water for noodles. Everything in due time, he told himself, glad simply to have her home with him.
At last they finished eating. Ed put the dishes in the sink to soak while Jana began unpacking. She appeared at the kitchen door a moment later, holding up the sketch of the sheep standing confused before the fence.
“Where’d that come from?”
“Minnesota. I started counting sheep, and he just came out. It’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“So I noticed. Anybody we know?”
“I’m not quite sure. I think it’s someone who has sheepskin covers over his car seats,” Jana teased. “Someone who’s been looking a little woolly lately.”
“Are my teeth that big?”
“Right now they are.”
Ed grinned. “Remember what happened to Red Riding Hood,” he cautioned as he lunged toward her.
“Remember what happened to the wolf.” She fended him off for a moment until she could put the drawing safely away. “Your teeth aren’t the only thing that have gotten so big, I notice,” she said, turning back to him.
“The better to love you with, my dear.” He led her toward the couch.
“Is that really what the wolf did?”
Ed didn’t answer; his head was buried in her hair as she curled against him. Neither could seem to get close enough. Just as he was about to suggest they get rid of these awkward garments and move this same configuration to the bedroom, Jana jumped up.
“If you think the wolf’s good, wait till you see the drawings I did after I got him out of my system,” she said, rushing to get her portfolio. Ed stayed slumped on the couch where she’d left him, too stunned to move, while Jana presented an endless display of drawings. “So what do you think?” she asked.
“I think I want you back here.” He tapped the cushion beside him.
“I’ll be back in a moment. But seriously, Ed, how do you like the drawings? I think I’ve really broken through to something…”
“What is this, some kind of test? If my reaction’s appropriate, you’ll sleep with me?”
“What the hell?. .”
“You’re a cockteaser, you know that?”
“You’re out of your mind. All I wanted was to show you a few drawings I’m excited about.”
“Go call Gary! He’s a better critic than I am.”
“I don’t want a critic, I want a lover.”
“You only think you do.”
“Don’t tell me what I think, please,” Jana said as she started toward the phone. “I’m sorry if I spoiled your romantic moment, but to tell the truth, it wasn’t very romantic to begin with.”
“Excuse me! I thought you wanted a man who would take things slowly.”
“Slow, sure. But you take forever, when you have energy to do anything at all.”
“Look who’s talking. You’re so involved in your work you’re not even aware when I walk into a room sometimes.”
“You sound just like my parents. When I lived with them I had to be accommodating, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to drop everything because you want a glass of water. If I let the process be interrupted, I lose the inspiration, and the work’s ruined. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”
“You use inspiration as an excuse for everything, don’t you?”
“It’s not an excuse, it’s my life.”
“But it doesn’t have to be.” Ed grabbed her arm. “All I’m asking is for you to love me, pure and simple. Look at me! Sure, my hair’s white, but I’m not Dr. Waters. I’m not seventy years old. I’m with you because I love you, not because there’s no one else in my life. And I’m not trying to take advantage of you. But you’ve got to trust me, Jana. Don’t you even care enough about me to let go of the artist for a few minutes?” He stepped in front of her, ready to scoop her up in his arms again.
“No, I don’t!” Jana screamed, turning away and shoving the sketchbook back into her portfolio. “You seem to be forgetting, I am an artist.”
“And what am I, a chauffeur?”
“Nobody told you to pick me up at the airport.”
“Pardon me. I thought I was picking up my girlfriend!”
“I’m myself. I can’t just fall into some role you expect from a woman.”
“You’re the one playing roles, my dear! One minute you’re loving, the next minute you’re playing Little Miss Art Snob and treating me like a groupie or something. I want to be supportive in all aspects of your life, but I can’t just sit back and let you abuse me.”
Jana had no comeback for that one. She slumped down on the sofa and stared off into space. What could she tell him—that lately the roles had been getting confused for her, too? That sometimes she found herself wanting to go back to the uncomplicated life she’d had before she’d met him, when all that was expected of her were the demands she made on herself? That she didn’t know who she was anymore, she felt herself losing control? “I don’t mean to be abusing you,” she said weakly “And I’m certainly not aware when I’m doing that. Sometime I catch myself snapping at something you say, and I have no idea why.”
“I know that,” Ed said, sitting down beside her, close but not touching, “I’m aware this is your first relationship, and that it’s confusing at times. I try to be patient, but you have to realize there’s a limit.” Almost in tears, he shifted his head away. She was hard to understand sometimes. For over six months they’d spent every night together; if she went through any changes, he’d be the first to notice, and he couldn’t help feeling slighted now. That sheep resembled a stuffed animal, yet she didn’t even seem to realize their conversation about stuffed animals might have prompted the drawing. Whatever he said or did seemed of no importance anymore.
“So you’re counting sheep, are you?” he asked. It was the only safe thing he could think to say. It reminded him of when he used to sleep at Kathe’s. Near the end, when she had only two or three dogs left, she often let them sleep on the bed. If he was there, they’d come around to his side and whine to be picked up. He’d pick up one then another would cry, the first would jump off then cry to be picked up again, and so on through the night, an endless stream of little dogs crying to be picked up. It was the closest he ever came to counting sheep. And who knows, maybe Jana’s obsession with her career was as bad as Kathe and her dogs after all.
He sat there holding her for a few minutes then softly asked if he could see the drawings again.
“Not now,” Jana responded. “I’m exhausted. I just want to get t
o bed.”
They gave in and lay side by side on the freshly laundered sheets. Tired as she was, Jana quickly found her mind churning. She tried one position, then another. In her few days away the bed seemed to have become lopsided, Ed’s side sinking further than her own—she found it hard to keep her balance.
Ed’s heavy body motioned toward the foreign object beside him; he lifted his head off the pillow. “Oh, I forgot to tell you—Natalie called last night.”
“I know, she was confused about when I was corning back. She reached me at the hotel.”
“What did she want?”
“Some complication about one artist coming to town. I didn’t get the details—I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” Jana turned away from him, fluffed the pillow under her. She had half a mind to get up, go out to the living room, and work. Only she didn’t exactly want to draw. “I’m probably overtired,” she mumbled aloud.
“And you have every right to be.” He went on to lecture her about how important it was that she get a good night’s sleep: she had to go into the gallery tomorrow, there was probably a stack of work waiting for her. “It’s always hard getting back to work after a vacation,” Ed whispered, running his hand along her back.
“No, it’s not. I mean, it never used to be. Besides, this wasn’t a vacation.” She lay silently, swallowing her tears. “Sometimes I think I’m no good to anyone, including myself, unless I’m painting, and right now I don’t feel very much like an artist,” she told him. “I come home all excited about new perspectives I want to work toward, and instead of getting down to work I have to go play curator tomorrow.” Instead of getting down to work, Ed expected her to make love to him. Wearing two hats was bad enough, but three was impossible. Small wonder she was getting the roles confused.
“You are an artist,” Ed assured her. “A three-person show at the Walker is nothing to scoff at. And you’re turning down other shows—what about that woman who wanted to give you a show in New York last month? I don’t understand why you didn’t want…”
“I don’t need another line on my resume.” Jana pulled away from him. She stared up at the ceiling as she talked. “Audrey would give me a show, she’d put up the paintings, although last time she didn’t even manage that very well—instead of hiring union workers, she arranged for some art student to hang it. An hour before he was due at the gallery he called to say he was involved in a painting and couldn’t make it. The two of us worked till two AM, and I was a wreck at the opening. And once the show’s up, Audrey won’t do anything else for me—she won’t bother to get out press releases, she won’t get in touch with critics, the gallery doesn’t even have a list of regular patrons.”
“What’s preventing you from calling the critics yourself? You certainly know plenty of them; you and Natalie are constantly taking critics out to dinner. And it would be a chance for all my friends to see your work.”
“It’s not the artist’s job to get in touch with the right people, and artists who push too hard aren’t respected. If I had a show with Audrey, it would cost over $1,000 to get everything framed, plus all the time and energy that would go into preparations, and I wouldn’t get enough in return. At this point, it might even be detrimental. I can just hear Nancy Hoffman now: Why, darling, I’d truly been planning a show for you next fall, but you’ve just had a show, haven’t you? We must not flood the market. You of all people understand that, don’t you, dear?”
Ed laughed at her impersonation; he’d never met Nancy Hoffman, but he could just imagine what she must be like. It was a forced laugh, though. He was laughing to cover his initial anger and embarrassment at Jana’s treating him as if he didn’t know the first thing about marketing artwork. He told himself again she didn’t realize what she was saying, or how the words affected him. He tightened his grip on her. He tried to let his muscles speak all the tension and love he had in him, but his body lost its hold. Jana settled her head on his chest and drifted off to sleep. It was Ed who lay awake, feeling a surge of delight that she had fallen asleep at last in such a trusting position, that she had, indeed, returned home to him. Long after she rolled over onto her own side of the bed, he lay awake rehashing everything that had happened this evening. He fixed the sheet so it covered his nostrils, to make sure she wouldn’t waken from his breathing, then lay there guarding her sleep for as long as he could.
“You’re what?” Ed backed away from the phone.
“I’m going back to my place after I finish up at the gallery. I need to be alone for awhile.”
“So what time will you be over? Do you want to wait and have a late dinner, or would you rather eat alone?”
“Ed, I’m saying I won’t be over. Or I don’t think I will. It’s hard to think straight. As I said, I need some time alone.”
“You haven’t even been back for twenty-four hours.”
“Well, then, it should be easier for you to adjust to my being away.”
“You’re still upset about last night, aren’t you? Look, I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. Anger does strange things to people.”
“I know; I said a lot of things I didn’t mean, too. That’s why I want to be alone for a few nights, to sort things through.”
“Where does that leave me, if I may ask?”
“Oh, come on, Ed, we’ve never structured our whole lives around each other. I’ll give you a call in a day or two, okay?”
“Have it your way,” Ed said. “I may or may not be home.” This wasn’t the sort of conversation he wanted to be having from work, but on second thought, at least the office environment prevented him from telling her what he really thought. At times like this, he wondered if she was worth the effort. He was starting to understand his father better, to realize why his father worked late, or on other nights walked away from his mother’s “dizzy spells.”
Jana brushed his anger aside; there were too many other tasks requiring her attention, like that artist from Los Angeles who’d phoned while she was in Minneapolis.
“Oh, thank God you called,” the harried voice so different from Ed’s began. “I’ve got to change my plane reservations. I don’t believe it, but the college won’t let me reschedule my Wednesday evening Art in Life class, which means I can’t get out of here until Thursday morning.” She went on, complaining about having to teach Art in Life for the third term in a row, how jealous her colleagues were about anyone with a career off-campus. Here she was in a major exhibition and they couldn’t care less.
Jana stared hollowly around her and realized that, no matter what was going on with Ed, at least she was in better shape than a lot of other people. She went through all the necessary calming motions, then called Phyllis Mason’s office. She explained the situation to Phyllis’ assistant, who promised to get the departure date changed on the tickets, then call and give the artist the new flight number.
Most of the other things piled up at the gallery were equally trivial, but Jana busied herself there until after eight. Then, remembering she’d more than likely have free time tonight, she threw the guest list for the gala into her pocketbook, wanting to check it over one more time before the invitations went out.
Niels was walking down the stairs as Jana entered her building. “Where in the world have you been hiding yourself?” he asked the moment he saw her.
“Working,” Jana said. Niels hadn’t been in her apartment since she’d returned to the city last September, had he? That day Ed had picked her up at the bus station. They used to sit around talking, gossiping, and drinking once a month at least. “We’re putting on this huge city-wide exhibition, and it’s driving me crazy,” she continued.
“The environment exhibition? That is yours, then—I thought I recognized the name of the gallery. I’ve seen your posters all over the city.”
“Great,” Jana smiled. “That means our media blitz is working.”
“I guess you are going to be in town over the next few weeks, aren’t you? I’m in a play in Cincinnati, of all places, fr
om May 15 to June 22. I didn’t see you around and was worried I’d have to ask that awful Mrs. Horowitz to take in my mail. You know she reads everything. I’d come back to find that how much I owed on my Visa card was neighborhood information.”
Jana laughed at Niels’ description of their neighbor, finding his effeminate gestures a refreshing contrast to the macho act Ed had pulled last night. “I’ll be in town, and I’ll be happy to take the mail in,” she said. “I’ll probably be working like crazy till the exhibition opens May 30, but if you don’t catch me around, slide the keys under my door, okay?”
They chatted a few more minutes before Jana found an appropriate chance to say how exhausted she was and to apologize for not being a good neighbor lately. “As soon as you return from Cincinnati we’ll have dinner,” she promised. It would be fun to sit around with him, but before she could relax with Niels, or anyone else, she needed time alone with her art again.
She shoved a slightly bent key in the mailbox lock. Who picked up her mail while she was away this time? Ed, of course. He’d gone out of his way to come over here. Running into Niels tonight couldn’t have been better timed to prove she didn’t have to be so reliant on her lover, or whatever he was. Hurriedly she flipped through the envelopes in her hand—nothing but bills. She was still waiting for that check from Blue Cross; she’d paid Dr. Barbash months ago and hadn’t been reimbursed yet. She should be lucky she was getting anything back—this individual insurance policy cost over $2,000 per year and provided rotten coverage. Besides taking forever to reimburse a claim, they were continually sending her half what she was expecting, along with a note stating it was the maximum allotted for a particular treatment. She would have to work for a large company in order to get decent insurance, someplace like APL. She’d have no trouble paying the medical bills if she and Ed were married, she thought sourly.
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