A State of Jane (29 page)

“Ah, yes. You never did tell me about that one time.”

Without thinking, I said, “Which one time?”

Eyes wide open, Andrew said, “How many ‘one times’ were there?”

I stared off into the distance pretending to count and when I looked back at Andrew, he was gazing at me expectantly. I smiled. “Just two.”

“Two is better than one. But three would be better.” High-fiving me, he said, “It's a start!”

*   *   *

After I finished my glass of wine and Andrew chugged his two beers, he walked me back to the office before heading to Farah's apartment. Slightly buzzed, I decided doing billable work was probably a bad idea and since I had received a reminder earlier that week from the billing department to complete and enter my time for the month, I did that instead before going home.

As I walked down the steps into the subway, I flashed back to my last “date” with Andrew and how devastated I was upon hearing he'd started dating someone. Over the past year, Claire tried to convince me on more than one occasion that everything happened for a reason and even the pain I experienced was leading me where I was meant to be. I'd always shrugged off her advice as bullshit, figuring she was trying to appease me.
Or just shut me up
. But that night I wondered for the first time if she might be right. If Andrew hadn't volunteered that little piece of information, that he was off the market, I probably would have confessed my feelings to him like I'd rehearsed in my mirror ahead of time. Feelings I realized – once the jealousy, bitterness and self-pity wore off – that I had invented in my own head. He might have rejected my advances anyway, leaving my ego bruised and my self-confidence to plummet further. Or he might have returned my feelings and then what? We'd start dating and eventually, if not sooner, conclude that we were wrong for each other. And if we'd had sex, broken up, and still had to share an office?
Awkward!

Claire had a point, not that I planned to admit as much to her. I was still extra sensitive to her needs these days, after thinking she died while we were fighting, but that didn't mean I wanted to hear her say, “I told you so” with that knowing look on her swollen face.

When I walked into the apartment, I heard voices coming from the kitchen. I tossed my keys on the rack, hung up my jacket and greeted Lainie and Antoine. “Hey, guys.”

Antoine looked up from his laptop. “What's up, Jane?”

Before I could respond, Lainie said, “You're home late. Do anything fun tonight?”

I kicked off my shoes, leaving them in the middle of the floor and, ignoring the surprised look on Lainie's face, sat down. “Worked late. Had a drink with Andrew. Went back to work.”

“How'd that work for you?” Lainie asked.

Not sure if she was referring to the drink with Andrew or working late, I asked her to clarify.

“Both actually. You're a major lightweight, Frank. Drinking and working?” Shaking her head, she said, “Not likely.”

“Now be nice, Lainie,” Antoine said softly but I could see the amused look in his eyes even from behind his seductively long eyelashes.

I waved my hand in the air. “It's OK. She's right. I didn't accomplish much.”

“And how was Andrew? Still dating that slut?”

“She's not a slut, Lainie! But, yes, they're still an item.”

Lainie shrugged. “It's his loss. I'm sure you're prettier and no doubt more ambitious.”

“Amen sister,” Antoine said.

“Maybe he's intimidated by you,” Lainie said.

I got up and poured a glass of water from the Brita container which, surprisingly, was filled to the brim. “He's not intimidated. He just doesn't think of me that way.”

“But he'd nail you anyway,” Antoine said with a cackle.

“And now it's my turn to say Amen!” Lainie laughed.

“Seriously guys, Andrew and I are just friends. My guy is out there somewhere. Like Michael Buble says, ‘I just haven't met him yet.’” Tired and anxious to go to sleep, I began walking out of the kitchen

In response to my off-key rendition of the lyrics, Lainie called after me, “Don't quit your day job, Frank,” quickly adding, “Unless it's to make me dinner or bake cookies!”

“I'll take it under advisement,” I yelled out before closing my bedroom door behind me. Feeling rude, I opened it again, said, “Goodnight guys!” and closed it for the night.

C
HAPTER
51

The night before the LSAT, my phone rang as I was getting into bed, just as it had the last time. But this time, I happily answered it since I had nothing to hide. “Hi, Daddy!”

In his usual good-natured voice, my dad said, “How are you, Pumpkin?”

“I'm good. Just taking it easy tonight.” I removed my pink bunny slippers and slid under the covers, ready for the Lifetime Movie to begin.

“No big plans this Friday night?”

“The night before the LSAT?”

After a brief hesitation, my dad said, “So, you're actually taking the LSAT this time?”

I shook off my first instinct to be insulted he even had to ask. “Yes, I'm really taking the exam tomorrow.”

“I had no doubt.” Whispering, he said, “Your mother was a little concerned though.”

In the background, I heard my mother yell, “I had every right to be concerned!”

“Tell her that not only am I taking the LSAT tomorrow as planned, but in the battle between Jane Frank and the LSAT, Jane will emerge victorious.”

Laughing, my dad said, “I'll be sure to pass that along. So you're really ready?”

“As ready as I'll ever be. Honestly, I can't study anymore. I've eaten, slept, and breathed practice exams for the past three months. I'm confident that I have the analytical, reading comprehension and writing skills to get at least a 165 and absent an unavoidable act of God during the exam, there's no reason I shouldn't.”

“Then hopefully there won't be an earthquake tomorrow. You know how prominent they are in the New York City Metro area.”

“I was more concerned about a tsunami, to be honest.”

“Al Roker hasn't predicted one so you should be OK, sweetheart.”

“Well then, in that case, yes, I'm really ready. And we probably shouldn't joke about acts of God.” As it turned out, the Lifetime Movie of the week was about a flood that left a single mother (played by Alyssa Milano) and her children stranded in the basement of their home.
Maybe I'll watch Hot in Cleveland instead.

“In that case, I'll just wish you good luck, honey. Even though you don't need it.”

Feeling superstitious, I said, “Well, good luck never hurt anyone, Dad.”

“OK, good luck then!”

“That's better,” I said, smiling.

“I'm proud of you no matter what.”

Maybe it was PMS, or that I hadn't felt worthy of my parents pride in a while (probably a little of both), but I choked up. “Thanks, Dad. Means a lot.”

“Do you want to talk to Mom?”

Without thinking, I said, “Not if she's going to make me more nervous!”

“OK, just call us tomorrow when it's all over!”

Laughing, I said, “Will do. Love you guys.”

*   *   *

As it turned out, there was no earthquake the next day. Nor was there a tsunami, flood, tornado, avalanche, or any other act of God. In fact, it didn't even drizzle and the breeze in the area was
welcome as it was an unseasonably warm June day; it felt more like August, thanks to the trademark New York humidity.

Although I had learned over the past year that proper preparation did not guarantee optimum results, thankfully all that studying did not go to waste, nor did the 2000 dollars I had withdrawn from my savings account to pay for the Kaplan course.

When I left the testing center, I was tempted to hop onto the subway all the way uptown to check out the Columbia Law campus, where I was now certain I'd apply and get into. But I'd already gone there a few years ago when I'd dragged Bob along with me for a day of window shopping New York City law schools. The tour included Columbia, NYU, St. Johns, and Fordham. Besides, I knew my father would want to check it out with me once I got in.(He might even insist on replacing the 2000 dollar as an investment in my future as a partner in his law firm.)So instead, I treated myself to a black and white soft-serve ice cream cone and glided home while daydreaming about my future. I finally felt like the real Jane. My life was back on track and although I had to start school later than planned, Claire spun it as a positive, saying I'd have more time to change my nephew's diapers and clean up his vomit while she and Kevin had date nights. I preferred to think about the quality time I'd have with my precious nephew while watching him laugh at his Aunt Janie's silly faces, but of course I'd change a diaper or two if Claire and Kevin weren't home. I couldn't leave my precious nephew sitting in his own poop! (Claire and Kevin hadn't agreed on a name, hence my referring to him as “precious nephew.” Last I'd heard it was between Zachary and Nathaniel. My vote was for Nathaniel because it sounded better with Williamson. But Claire informed me in a particularly heated hormonal moment that my vote didn't count since I wouldn't need stitches in my “va-jay-jay” after bringing Baby Boy Williamson into the world.)

Replaying the conversation in my mind momentarily took me out of my uplifting mood and reminded me that I was overdue for a pap smear. I shivered at the thought of my gynecologist telling me to “scoot” down and the painful insertion of the cold speculum, and quickly conjured up visions of law school where even the scariest of
professors practicing the Socratic Method would be impressed and inspired by their star pupil, Jane Alexis Frank, future editor of law review.

*   *   *

When I got home that afternoon, there was something I wanted to do after calling my parents. I walked to my closet, knelt down, and reached to the back for the DVDs of
Beverly Hills 90210
. I was going to send them to Bob. It was time for him to start over with Trish and I didn't want to hold onto anything that technically belonged to her now.

As I put the DVDs in a mustard-colored padded envelope I had bought at CVS, I thought better of it and decided to send them directly to Trish. This way, I wouldn't be blatantly breaking the “no contact with Bob” rule. I removed a sheet of scented stationary I had purchased back in high school and rarely used and lay on my stomach. With the back of a ballpoint pen in my mouth, I contemplated my note.

Dear Trish,

Bob told me you were a big fan of 90210. I did a clean sweep of my apartment this weekend and found these DVDs in the back of my closet. I thought you might like them. I loved the show too. We have that in common. What we also share is affection for Bob. Although my feelings stopped being romantic many, many years ago, I still care about him. He was an important part of my life and I truly want him to be happy. You clearly make him happy and so I will respect your wishes to stay away, although I must confess it hurts to lose a friend I've had since I was sixteen. I hope someday you will reconsider, but in the meantime, I wish you and Bob a lifetime of happiness.

All my best,

Jane.

I folded the note, inserted it in the envelope and pulled off the label before sealing it closed and dropping it in the mail.

C
HAPTER
52

I sat up in bed and sucked in my breath. I looked down at the shape of my body under the covers and at the walls of my bedroom and realized it was just a dream. I had been dressed in a navy suit, sitting at a conference table, ironing out the details of an agreement between my client and a third party. I was a fifth-year associate at my father's law firm and well on my way to making partner. It was everything I'd always wanted.

So why was I sweating?

I got out of bed and, as I passed Lainie's bedroom on the way to the kitchen, I called out, “You're in luck, roommate. I'm making a loaf of raisin nut bread.”

C
HAPTER
53

Lost in thought, I looked out the window of my cross-town bus. Seeing Dos Caminos Mexican restaurant on my right, I realized we were only in the 50s and turned back towards my book. Marissa was right; it was a pretty fast read. But I still had two more of the series to go and we were supposed to have a movie marathon that weekend. Marissa insisted I choose between Team Edward and Team Jacob.
Not like she's twenty-seven years old or anything…

I finished a chapter and looked back up to see a familiar face in the opposite aisle one row ahead. As I stared at her fifty-something profile, I wondered if she was the mother of one of my friends or a friend of my mom or maybe a former colleague. Then, it dawned on me and I sucked in my breath. What were the chances of randomly running into a person twice on the same cross-town bus?

I leaned over and tapped her on the shoulder.

She quickly jumped in her seat and turned around. “Yes?” But then she smiled in recognition. “Oh, hello!”

“Hi,” I said cheerfully. “Small world, huh?”

Shifting her body so her legs were now facing the aisle, she said, “I'll say! How are you?” I noticed there was no poppy seed stuck in her teeth this time.

“I'm well. Really well, actually.”

“Let me guess. You're engaged?”

I raised my ringless left hand. “No. Still single, but I'm OK with it.” Shrugging I said, “For now at least.”

“Good for you. Life's too short.”

I nodded. “And I'm going to law school. Columbia, fingers crossed. My application is with admissions as we speak.” The thought made me anxious and I wasn't sure why, since I was pretty confident I'd be accepted.

“I'm happy for you!” Glancing out the window, she said, “Oh, my stop is coming up.” Leaning over the man sharing her row, she pulled the lever to request the stop and stood up. “I wish you the best of luck in law school and beyond and maybe I'll see you on the bus again sometime!”

“Maybe!”

When the bus stopped at the light before her stop, she waved and began walking to the front exit. Suddenly, I remembered something. Anxious to tell her, I called out, “Lady!” realizing I never got her name. She didn't hear me which I instantly decided was a good thing since calling someone “lady” was beyond rude. So, I grabbed my shopping bags and ran after her. I tapped her shoulder once again and she turned around looking startled.