by Ari Rhoge
At least Charlotte had left her the car. Well, she had bought it from her for a reduced price, given that the bumper was still missing.
“My bad,” Lizzy murmured, to herself. When nobody responded, she swerved around on her bare feet. Another new development — the apartment was empty. She slumped her shoulders. “I should get a dog or something.”
But at that precise moment she wouldn't be alone — the buzzer went off, and Lizzy opened the door, bleary-eyed yet smiling upon seeing Jane so early in the day.
Well, it was early to her. It was a pleasant surprise.
“Janie!”
“Can I be here right now? I don't want to be alone.”
“Why would you be —— oh.”
Lizzy took a moment to properly look at her sister — she took in the messy, knotted curls, the pale face, the dark circles beneath red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Jane's bottom lip trembled, and Elizabeth pulled her in wordlessly for a hug before the elder girl burst into tears.
11
—
Bruises
It would have been more convenient to stay, but Elizabeth knew very well that her apartment was unsuitable for this sort of thing. For one, the strongest thing in the pantry that Jane could down was caffeinated herbal tea.
“And Red Bull — I have Red Bull,” suggested Lizzy, lightly.
Jane hiccoughed.
Lizzy took her down the street to Mick's Pub. It was actually run by a Russian, not an Irishman, and the walls were crowded with pop culture memorabilia and film-noir movie posters. Also, topless chicks. They were the only women there, but it was Sunday after all — Sunday afternoon.
“More of this,” Jane murmured, pushing her empty shot glass toward the bartender. He obligingly refilled it with vodka. “Thanks, Vlad.”
Lizzy brushed Jane's dark-blond hair out of her eyes. “Tell me,” she encouraged, gently. “Tell me how it happened.”
Jane took in a breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and tossed back the shot glass. And then she started coughing.
“Oh, sweetie — you don't taste it.”
“I didn't mean to!”
Elizabeth covered her smile with her hand. Her sister was nearly 29 years old — she couldn't decide if her innocence was adorable or simply naïve.
“We broke up,” Jane explained.
“I got that part. —— How?”
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?”
Jane began to cry again. Quiet sobs this time, with fat tears sliding down her cheeks. “Janie,” Lizzy pleaded. She squeezed her sister's hand.
Jane's story was full of contradictions. Charlie had been slightly tipsy the night of the Netherfield banquet, but he had no desire to stay there — Jane drove them back to her place.
“He was so cute.” She laughed, despite herself, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. Vlad gave her a look, and Lizzy handed her a tissue. “His hair was all messed up, and he was tripping over himself. And Charlie… Charlie's pretty affectionate in general, but he was even more so then — kissing and hugging and holding my hand.”
“So? I don't understand the problem,” said Lizzy.
“The problem was that I didn't want to do anything,” said Jane, sternly, fixing her dark-eyed gaze on Lizzy. “I mean, I did. Obviously. He's…”
“… kind of a beautiful person.”
“Right. But he was a little drunk. He insisted he wasn't, but he was. I had this awful premonition of him falling asleep on me. Yeah — you laugh, but it's happened.”
“Brian?” Lizzy guessed, with a smirk.
“Yeah. How'd you know?”
“He took cold medication a lot.”
“Oh. —— Well — Charlie's very special to me.” Jane took in a breath too quickly, and it made her hiccup. “So, I told him that I didn't want to, then — and he completely took it the wrong way. Then again, I don't think he realized how much he had drank.”
“What happened?” prodded Lizzy.
“Suddenly he's like —— Jane, where are we going with this?” Jane sat up straight, wide-eyed. “Which is a legitimate question — I had been thinking about it, too. But I didn't want to talk about it then, so I told him we would talk about it later. And—”
“Hey.” A man who had been sitting three seats away interrupted her story. He had a draft beer in one hand, and his other arm was wrapped around the back of Jane's chair. He grinned at her. “You're pretty. Why are you sad? Let me buy you a drink.”
“Fuck off, we're talking,” said Lizzy.
The man raised his eyebrows and turned away.
“Go on,” her younger sister encouraged.
“Um.” Jane hooked her blond hair behind her ears, and shook her head. “Charlie said that he couldn't understand why I was avoiding the conversation. I said that now wasn't the right time. He said that was bullshit. He said—” Jane bit her lip, and looked down at her hands. “—He said that I just didn't want a serious relationship like he did. He said that I had been pushing him away all week.”
She was crying again, and Elizabeth hugged her around the shoulders. “Oh, Jane.”
“It was ridiculous!” laughed Jane, brushing away tears. “He knew I had been busy at the clinic toward the end of January. I had five new patients — then Andrew fractured his spine, which was a nightmare all over again. Charlie… well, he was supportive at the time. But then it just came out of nowhere!”
“Did you explain that to him?”
“I did.”
“What happened next?”
“He was upset. He got up and paced a lot. Ran his fingers through his hair a lot. He does that,” she murmured, looking down into her empty glass. “Then he said he would be getting back to the city on Monday, which I already knew. And then he said he would be going to Zurich for a month, which I didn't know.”
Lizzy frowned, and squeezed her sister's hand. “When?”
“He leaves in late March. —— For business,” Jane said, softly.
“I wonder why he hadn't told you before.”
“Probably because he didn't think it was an issue. I mean, granted the last four months haven't exactly been serious business,” Jane air-quoted, gloomily. “We never sat down and had a proper talk about what was going on between us, and I didn't really want to. The last thing I wanted was to scare him off. But apparently you can do that, just the same!”
Lizzy glanced up at her sympathetically.
“I just wish I knew what had happened,” Jane murmured. “I was just thinking… who have you been talking to? If he had a problem, he should have spoken up. So, he either shoved his feelings down or discovered them all in three-and-a-half hours.”
“Yeah.” Elizabeth cast her a sideways glance. Or he actually had been talking to somebody. Oh, that bitch.
Jane asked for another shot, and finished her story. Having not had a single dispute in the course of four months, their disagreement had ballooned into a full-fledged fight. “I've never really fought with a boyfriend before. I mean this argument mutated, and grew five heads — and suddenly we were arguing about everything and nothing. And I do mean nothing, because we got nowhere. He wasn't telling me everything. He was holding back.” Jane shook her head in disbelief. “It ended with Charlie saying that he had to leave on Monday, and that maybe it would be best if we took a break for a little while.”
“A break,” Elizabeth echoed, slowly.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, sweetie — that's good! So, you're not really broken—”
“We are. —— I told him I couldn't do that,” Jane said, softly. “So, then he said fine, called himself a cab, and left.”
Lizzy frowned. She wondered if Jane knew that Charlie might have misinterpreted her words. Perhaps he thought that she “couldn't do that” because she wanted to break up with him. She opened her mouth to tell Jane.
“I got a message on my phone from Caroline Bingley this morning,” Jane said, before Lizzy could speak. “She had
no idea — I'm sure Charlie didn't tell her. She's going back to the city too, and she called to say how great it was to meet me. She said she was glad we got so close.”
Yeah — I bet she was glad.
“Jane, maybe she's the one who egged him on about that,” Lizzy suggested. “If she's leaving too, she could easily have suggested it to him.”
Jane lifted her head, shocked. “No. Then why would she leave me a message like that?”
“To throw you off.”
“Lizzy, I don't think she's that clever,” muttered Jane.
“Um, she's not exactly a ditz. —— Irritating, yes. Stuck-up, definitely. But I can smell a Daddy's girl who twists around facts to get what she wants from a mile away. This whole thing reeks of Chanel perfume.”
Jane shrugged. “Well, it came out of Charlie's mouth, didn't it? I broke up with Charlie, not Caroline.”
That was true. Lizzy frowned, and hugged her sister. “You love him, don't you?”
“Yeah,” Jane said, softly. Lizzy wiped the tears from her cheeks, and she looked up at her. “I love him. And I didn't say anything — and that's the problem. I fucked it up.”
“Well, did he say he loved you?”
“… no.”
Elizabeth shrugged.
• • •
Jane ended up staying at Lizzy's place for the rest of the day — and about half of the following week, too.
There was a lot that Lizzy needed to tell her sister, but wouldn't. For one, she and Charlie had clearly fallen apart through a lack of communication. This was what happened when you threw together two easy-mannered, non-confrontational people. Everything would be felt and nothing would be said, and then somebody's cup would very much runneth over with pent-up frustrations and emotions.
“There's the flaw in my thinking,” said Elizabeth, to a fellow teacher the next day. They were out in the baseball field, both of their classes playing kickball in the pitch. “You would expect them to never argue, because they're so easygoing. But the truth of the matter is that everybody feels something — and if it's not expressed it's toxic, isn't it?”
Maggie King smirked at her. They were both sitting on the bleachers, watching Graham Rothman sprint ahead to first base. “You're preaching to the choir,” she said, laughing. “I have the opposite problem — if I have an issue with somebody, they're going to know about it.”
“Like the time I called the wrong Nature Center for last year's field trip,” Lizzy said, grinning. “Man, did you chew me out.”
“I'm sorry! I was pissed,” she said, chuckling. “If I don't say what I mean when I mean it, it's just going to curdle up inside me like bad milk.”
“Oh, delicious visual, Mags — thank you.”
“You're welcome. —— Kayla, keep your hands to yourself!” she shrieked. Lizzy flinched, and nearly spilled her coffee Thermos. Maggie turned, and smiled at her, pleasantly. “So, Jane's staying at your place now?”
“Yeah. I don't want her to be alone,” said Lizzy, sighing. The wind ruffled her hair, and she brushed it back into place, moving her bangs out of her eyes. “She insists she's fine. She looked put-together again this morning, had make-up on and everything.”
“Well, that's good!”
“But it's a front. I know Jane. I saw her crying in the bathroom after breakfast. She was just brushing her hair and crying, and I felt like somebody had walked over my grave,” Lizzy said, miserably. “Have you ever seen Jane cry? It's like seeing a bunny being shot.”
“You have to distract her,” insisted Maggie.
“I should probably buy something stronger than coffee, for the house.”
“Yeah, get on that.”
• • •
That evening, she decided she would cook for Jane. Toting groceries from her car, Lizzy rested the bag on her hip, and tried to find her keys. She had hurled them inside her purse somewhere. “Damn.”
“Hi, Lizzy.”
Greg Wickham stood on the walkway, his hands in his jean pockets. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Where did you come from?”
“Officially?” Greg grinned. Elizabeth didn't smile back, and he cleared his throat. “I parked in the visitor's lot, over on the other side.”
“Oh. Well, see you later.”
“Wait, Lizzy—” Greg sprinted up and put a hand on her shoulder. “Can I help you with that?”
“No,” she said, glaring.
“I came to apologize,” he said, sincerely, his brown eyes wide. “I wanted to go with you. I'm sure you looked beautiful—”
“I looked awesome — you missed out.”
“Fair enough,” Greg said, smiling. “Listen, I wish I had a credible reason — but I don't. And I don't want to lie to you. The truth is that I didn't want to run into—”
“I know,” Lizzy said, quietly. “I know you didn't want to see him.”
“You do? —— You must think I'm a coward.”
She shrugged. “It's your decision what you do, or choose not to do. But a little warning would have helped, Greg. It's not all about you.”
“I know. I'm an ass. I'm so sorry.”
Lizzy gave him the bag of groceries. “I don't forgive you. Not totally. But I forgive you enough to let you carry this inside for me — also because my back kind of hurts, and I can't find my damn keys.”
Greg grinned, and she hunted inside her purse. Half a minute later, she drew out her keys.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“So, did you wear a dress to the party?” asked Greg.
“Yeah, I did. I looked good. A lot of people were all up in this—” Lizzy gestured to herself awkwardly, losing the effect because she was bundled up in her coat, beanie, and bright yellow scarf. Greg grinned, and she laughed. “Okay, fine — no they weren't. The truth comes out.”
“I'm sure they were. You're a very pretty girl.”
“Yeah.” Lizzy snorted, softly, glancing down at her keys again.
But Greg was looking at her, unsmiling, and his hand reached out to touch her cheek. Lizzy glanced up at him. He leaned in closer and tucked a strand of her hair over her ear, his eyes lingering on her mouth.
“Stop.”
Greg frowned, and pulled back. “I'm sorry. I thought…”
“No — I like you, Greg,” Elizabeth said, quickly. She looked down thoughtfully for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. “It just doesn't work that way. I mean… you stood me up. And you left a voicemail. That was shitty, no matter what way you slice it. You can't just apologize and kiss me and think it's okay. It's not. At least not with me.”
“You're right. That was stupid,” Greg muttered, staring at his shoes.
“It was.”
“Well, let me make it up to you. What are you doing tonight?”
Lizzy blinked. “Cooking dinner for my broken-hearted older sister.”
“What's wrong with Jane?” Greg asked.
“She's broken-hearted? —— She broke up with her boyfriend.”
“Oh, bummer… What are you cooking?”
“Um, you're not invited!” Lizzy laughed. “But nice try. … Actually, no, I'm not that vindictive. The truth is that I bought enough groceries for two. I would say it's because I don't want leftovers — but it's mostly because I'm cheap.”
Greg raised his eyebrows, and she shoved him. He laughed. “What?”
“Not that kind of cheap.”
“Don't worry — your reputation is still intact,” he said, smiling again. “Can we do a rain check? I'll make you dinner. Maybe this weekend, if you're free.”
“I'll think about it,” Lizzy said, quietly.
“Okay. I'll call you.”
“Okay.”
She smiled back at him, but felt like she wasn't necessarily allowed to like men at the present moment — it was an act of betrayal against Jane. The men-are-bastards mentality had to last at least a week after a sister's breakup, or even that of a best friend — for supportive reason
s, obviously.
When Lizzy finally walked inside her apartment, it was clear Jane had not remembered when she would be back. She was sitting on the sofa, in her pajamas, numbly watching a Lifetime movie. Wads of used tissues were in her lap. Jane's eyes flickered to the doorway. “Oh. You're back.”
“Jane, you went to work today, right?” asked Elizabeth.
“I did,” Jane explained. “But then I left early. I didn't feel well.”
“… Okay,” said Lizzy, softly. She set the bag down on the kitchen counter, and shrugged out of her coat, tossing it over an armchair. “Do you want me to make you some soup? I'll put the kettle on.”
“No, that's all right,” Jane said, smiling. “I think I'm just tired. I'm gonna go to bed.”
“Are you sure? It's not even eight yet. I was gonna make us some dinner.”
“I'm not hungry. But thanks, Lizzy.”
Jane got up, and cleaned after herself. She threw away the tissues, and placed the dirty cups into the dishwasher. Then she walked down the hall and took a right into Charlotte's old room — Charlotte had left her mattress there, and Lizzy had laid out new sheets the night before. The door closed behind her.
Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “That can't be good.”
12
—
The View from the Afternoon
February tapered off into March — wet, cold, and miserable. In truth, the blame could not be wholly pinned on the weather. It just so happened that any person, laid-back or cheerful, could become a pessimist when rooming with one. Elizabeth's mood plummeted several notches down the ladder.
She had to get Jane out.
“I have to get Jane out,” Elizabeth said, miserably, during lunchtime in the teacher's lounge. Kevin Zimmerman, a fourth-grade teacher, looked up from his Caesar salad. “Seriously, Kev. —— I love her, but this is detrimental to my mental health.”
“Is this the sister?” Kevin asked, chewing thoughtfully. “The pretty, heartbroken one who won't split the apartment's rent with you?”
“That's the one,” Lizzy said, sighing, and slumping back in her seat. “I mean, I suggested that she sell her own place. It isn't rent-controlled. But then she argues that it's her home. And then I argue… well, then, go live in it!”