Jack with a Twist (26 page)
Authors: Brenda Janowitz
“O
h, my God, Vanessa,” I say, staring at her as she comes out of the fitting room, “you look so beautiful I think I’m going to cry!” And then, since I’m not the type to let a good occasion to turn on the waterworks pass, my eyes begin to tear up.
“Please don’t cry,” Vanessa says.
“You just look so beautiful,” I say, dabbing at a tear.
We’re at Monique’s townhouse where Vanessa’s trying on muslins for the wedding dress that Monique will be making Vanessa for her wedding to Marcus. (Her
second
wedding to Marcus, for those of you who are keeping count. And if you’re my mother, yes, it’s her second wedding to a doctor. And I haven’t even married
one
doctor yet. Now, I know Marcus isn’t a Jewish doctor, but still, in my mother’s eyes, a doctor is a doctor is a doctor).
“I hate it,” Vanessa’s mother, Millie says, “take it off.” And then, to Monique, “do you have anything with capped sleeves? It would hide how—how—skinny her arms are.” She whispers the word
skinny
as if, though standing two feet away from her, Vanessa cannot hear her.
“I can hear you. And I’m not skinny,” Vanessa counters, “I’m a runner.”
“When we were models, we had curves.” Millie says to Monique. And then, to Vanessa: “Maybe you should stop running a few months before the wedding. Just to let yourself fill out a little.”
“I don’t need to fill out,” Vanessa says to no one in particular. I offer Vanessa the glass of champagne Monique served us when we walked in, but Vanessa shakes her head “no.”
“Maybe Brooke can give you some tips,” Millie says. “Honey, what do you do to keep your curves so nice and curvy?”
“I eat raw cookie dough straight from the roll when I’m upset.” I offer, going for the rest of Vanessa’s champagne, but Vanessa’s got it before I do and downs the whole thing in one gulp.
“You know,” Millie says, “when I got married, I was Yves Saint Laurent’s muse.”
I excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room just as Vanessa is formulating an answer to her mother. Something about inheriting the brains of the family instead of the hips.
It’s strange, but for the past month I haven’t been able to kick this stomach flu that’s been going around. Sure, since I began taking the lead on cases at my law firm, I’ve been busier, but I don’t think that I’m so run down as to be ill for a whole month. Or maybe it’s the stress from becoming so incredibly important to the firm. Now that I’m running cases on my own, I’m sure I’ll be making partner any day now. Surely that must be it.
“I was the same way when I was pregnant with Vanessa,” Millie says as I walk out of the bathroom and back into the showroom.
“But, I’m not pregnant,” I say, laughing. I subconsciously put my hand over my stomach. Sure, it’s not as flat as it used to be, but in my new role as perfect little wife, I’ve been cooking for Jack and myself just about every night, and everyone knows when you cook a lot, you tend to taste everything.
Okay, okay, well, not so much as
cooking
every night as ordering in and then putting it onto paper plates. But I’m sure to put it onto very
fancy
paper plates, thank you very much! And I already told you that I’m becoming absolutely indispensable at my firm, so I really don’t have much time to be home cooking all the time, so get off my back, would you?
And, anyway, my husband seems to think that I am a woman of many
other
talents, so there.
So, I certainly don’t have any time to be barefoot and pregnant. Which I’m not. And I most certainly do not
look
pregnant, thank you very much! And even if I was, I wouldn’t be barefoot. I’d be pregnant in, like, totally cute shoes.
“Yes,” Millie says, “you should never tell anyone before your first trimester is up. But we can quietly look for a matron of honor dress that is expandable.”
“I don’t need an expandable dress,” I say.
“She’s not pregnant,” Vanessa says, grabbing my hand and standing by my side.
“Do you think you and Jack will find out if it’s a boy or a girl?” Monique asks, getting up from her sketch pad and joining in on the conversation.
“I’m not pregnant!” I say.
“Are you kidding?” Millie says to Monique. “She’s clearly having a girl! Just look at her face.”
They both lean in and examine my face as if they were scouts for Elite Model Management. Just what any normal woman wants: two gorgeous former models examining every square inch of her face at close range.
“What’s wrong with my face?” I say, feeling my hand fly up to my face without even thinking about it.
“Well, you know what they say,” Millie explains, “when you’re having a girl, it steals your beauty.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Vanessa says, thrusting her body, skinny arms and all, between Monique and Millie and me. “She’s not pregnant. She’s still beautiful, and more importantly, today’s really all about
me.
So, please focus.”
“I don’t mean that you’re not beautiful, Brooke,” Millie says, to me, “it’s just a saying. It’s an old wives’ tale that when you’re having a girl, your nose gets wider.”
My nose? Isn’t it enough that society drives us crazy about our weight? That we endlessly obsess about our thighs and our butts and our tummies? Now we have to worry about how wide our
noses
are?
Vanessa and I retreat to the fitting room to try on another muslin. As Vanessa steps into a strapless A-line with a fishtail, she whispers, “You’d better not be pregnant. You were supposed to wait for me to get pregnant!”
Yeah, right. As if I want to wait to be pregnant with a woman whose biggest problem in life is that she’s just too darn skinny. (I can just see it now—Vanessa’s mom: “Why isn’t your tummy getting as big as Brooke’s?” Vanessa: “Because we’re only two months along.” Me: “That’s just the way my stomach looks naturally.” I don’t think so….)
“I just thought it would be fun to take one of those things, don’t you?” I say, as I unpack the premade chicken parmesan that I picked up at Bernard’s Market on Third.
“You thought it would be fun?” Jack asks, getting out the plates and silverware.
“Yes, Jackie, fun!” I say, laughing. Really, since getting married, sometimes Jack can be such a fuddy duddy!
“Remind me what’s fun about taking a pregnancy test again?” Jack says, furrowing his brow.
“Well, I’ve never taken one, have you?” I ask. Jack regards me for a moment and I quickly explain: “I mean, a girlfriend of yours or anything.”
“There was this time in high school,” Jack says, “and then once in college. No, wait, twice in college—”
“You know what, forget it,” I say, and make my retreat to the bathroom.
I shut the door and put the pregnancy kit down on the sink. I look up at myself in the mirror. Having a girl steals your beauty. How ridiculous!
“How can you possibly be pregnant?” Jack asks me as I come out of the bathroom. “Aren’t you on the Pill?”
“Well, yes, Jackie,” I say, “I am. And I take it every day.”
“But…” Jack says. “I can tell there’s a ‘but’ coming up.”
“No ‘buts,’” I say, “I mean, there
was
this one day a few months ago, though, when I popped a Pill out of the container and it went flying into the sink and then down the drain. So, I suppose that I did skip just that one day. But, that’s okay, because I took it every other single solitary day that month, so I’m sure that it didn’t really count. I’m sure there’s residual Pillness left from all those other days that I took it, so I was covered.”
“Um, no, Brooke,” Jack says, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair, “I’m sure there’s not. That’s why you’re supposed to take it every day.”
“Well, I do take it every day,” I say, looking off out the window. “Almost every day.”
“Almost?” Jack asks, turning my head back to face him.
“No, every day!” I assure Jack. “Except that once. Most of the time, to be sure.”
“Most of the time?”
“Is the time up yet?” I ask Jack.
“No,” he says, “three more minutes.”
We both sit and stare at the digital clock on the microwave oven.
“So,” Jack says, grabbing my hand but still staring at the microwave clock, “I guess this means I should start looking into the baby Manolo thing, huh?”
T
hank you to Sherry and Bernard Janowitz, my parents, whose love and support means the world to me. A big thank you also goes out to my brother, Sammy, and sister-in-law, Stephanie. (And, heck, my nephew, Noah, too, whose cuteness undoubtedly inspired me.) I am so fortunate to have all of you in my life.
Thank you to Mollie Glick, my amazing agent. I am so lucky to have you—your constant support and guidance help me to become a better writer every day. You are a truly wonderful agent and have also become a great friend. Am I supposed to be having this much fun working with my agent?
A big thank you goes out to the fabulous team at Red Dress Ink. Thanks to Adam Wilson and Margaret Marbury for your endless support and inspiration. It was so sweet of you to invite Brooke to the party again! Thanks to Don Lucey and Megan Lorius for your fabulous PR skills. Your tireless efforts mean so much to me.
Special thanks goes to everyone at Mediabistro, especially Jessica Eule, who forces me to teach class after class on creative writing. And, of course, Mara Piazza for throwing the best book launch parties a girl could ask for.
Thank you to Grandma D for being one of my earliest readers and for letting me borrow your maiden name once again.
Many thanks to Shawn Hecht and JP Habib. Special thanks go to Selina McLemore, Danielle Schmelkin, Aunt Myrna, Robin and Jeff Kaplan, Jen and Scott Kaplan, Lauren Lindstrom, Cousin Melissa Kraut, Cousin Brandon Kraut, Jessica Shevitz Rauch, Greer Gilson Schneider, Esther Rhee, Donna Gerson, Tami Stark, Kim (Trattner) Kramer and all of my great relatives and friends who make my life so wonderful on a daily basis. Big thanks go out to everyone at Barnes and Noble in Chelsea and Philly, Books and Books in Florida, the JCC in Manhattan, Makor/92nd St. Y, the Cornell Club, Justine Reichman and Twilight at Vzones.com and the many book clubs who supported SCOT. It was so much fun to meet all of you!
And, of course, thanks to the Luxenberg family: Judy and David; Jen, Lee, Spencer, Oliver and Ruby; Stacey, Jon, Jordan and Ethan. I’m so excited to join your family on May 25th!
And last but not least, thank you to my honey, Doug Luxenberg. Who knew when we were walking the halls of Lawrence High School together that we’d end up here? I love you.
xoxo,
Brenda
- Brooke and Jack litigate the biggest cases of their respective careers against each other, and Monique and Jean Luc work in a business partnership with each other. Is it ever a good idea to mix business with pleasure? Have you ever had a relationship with someone you worked with?
- Brooke begins to question whether or not Jack is really the man she thought he was. Do you ever really know the person you are in a relationship with? If so, how long does it take? Do you ever really know yourself?
- Which would you rather: to finally find love after you’ve turned thirty and have had to endure bad date after bad date for years, like Brooke, or to have found love when you were eighteen, and then lose it and have to start all over again, like Vanessa?
- When Brooke and Jack’s families meet, they do not get along. This concerns Brooke, but Vanessa assures her that you marry the man, not his family. Do you think that you marry just the man, or that you marry his family, too?
- When Brooke and Jack go to look at flowers, Maximo gives them each a penny to throw into the pond and make a wish. What do you think that Brooke wished for? What about Jack?
- Do you think that Brooke and Jack’s marriage will last? Why or why not? What about Vanessa and Marcus? Monique and Jean Luc?
- Miranda tells Brooke that you can’t control who you fall in love with. Do you think that this is true? Have you ever fallen in love with someone who you shouldn’t have?
- If you were to make
Jack With a Twist
into a movie, who would you cast as all of the major characters? - This story is narrated by Brooke. How would it be different if it was told from Jack’s point of view?
JACK WITH A TWIST
A Red Dress Ink novel
ISBN: 978-1-4268-1885-1
© 2008 by Brenda Janowitz
All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission. For permission please contact Red Dress Ink, Editorial Office, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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