The China Doll (8 page)

"Professor Hazlett must have hired him
because he can do something."

"Yeah, well, I don’t know what that is, but
it isn’t teach. He got it wrong, Miranda, he doesn’t know what he’s
talking about."

"Doesn’t know what?"

"Hippodameia. Pelops was married to
Hippodameia."

"Can you not speak Greek right now?"

"They’re studying the House of Atreus. The
class is going over the beginning, but he—Bobby Lester—and Jessie
started going over some more of it. Later in the story, Tantalus’
son marries a princess named Hippodameia."

"Congratulations."

"But he keeps calling her Hippolyta. And it
gets worse. She said they looked it up on Wikipedia and they had
the same name. Okay, first of all, who uses Wikipedia as their only
source for a university level class? Second of all, Wikipedia is
the only place I could find that has made that mistake. Everyone
else—every other book, every other online resource—lists the
correct name." She shook her head. "He’s sloppy."

Miranda shrugged. "Okay—well, maybe that
wasn’t his area of study. I mean, she hired you to do her research,
and you weren’t even an English major—or grad student, for that
matter."

"But I was with her during her meetings with
her staff. Joanna is fastidious. That’s why she needed the extra
research assistant for so long. I can’t believe she’d hire someone
like that."

"So why don’t you say something to her?"

Emily blinked. "I’m saving contact with her
for something special."

Miranda smiled. "Wow, you really hold a
grudge, don’t you?"

It was times like this that made Emily feel
like she was a member of a different species. "She played me, and
you know it."

Miranda sighed. "No, she didn’t. Alex
did."

"And she lied to me so he could."

Miranda shook her head. She couldn’t pierce
Emily’s armor right now. "Sometimes people have their own reasons
for doing things, Em. Maybe you should just trust that, and let it
go."

"Maybe you’re right," Emily conceded. "And
maybe I will—once I figure out what this guy is doing on her
staff."

On Saturday night at ten-thirty, Emily asked
Mitch to go get her a second serving of lemon sorbet at JP Licks on
Newbury Street.

Mitch frowned. "You just said you hated it."
He’d finally taken the bar—the sick, twisted, nightmare that it
was—and he wanted to do nothing more than celebrate alone with his
wife while his parents were watching Hellie; especially since
things had been so strained lately. But Emily had insisted that
they run all over Newbury Street instead.

"It’s the only thing they have here that I
can eat."

Mitch was already done with his white coffee
cone. "So we could just go," he said slowly.

"But I need something," Emily said,
half-to-herself.

"For what?"

Emily looked up and smiled, then pulled Mitch
into a kiss. "Will you please just get me the damn sorbet?"

"Fine," he said, then grinned. "But I deserve
another kiss."

Emily was halfway through nursing her lemon
sorbet fifteen minutes later when she kicked Mitch, who was
half-asleep, under the table. "Honey, wake up!" she whispered.

Before Mitch could ask what was going on,
Emily put on a big smile. "Jess!" she called out. Mitch wanted to
sink down further, but he sat up before Emily could kick him
again.

"Hey!" Jessie smiled as she bounded over to
Mitch and Emily’s table with Bobby in tow. "Mind if we join
you?"

"Please," Emily said, scooting over quickly.
Mitch reluctantly moved over too, but there was murder in his eyes
as he looked at his wife.

Jessie made the introductions as Mitch and
Bobby shook hands. Mitch held Bobby’s hand for just an extra second
longer than he needed to. "Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "You look
so familiar to me."

"Well, if you’ve been near the University in
the last two months, I’m sure you would have seen me."

"That must be it," Mitch said,
half-exhausted. "I just killed myself studying for the bar."

"How did that go?" Jessie asked. Mitch was
surprised. She was never this polite.

"I’m pretty sure I didn’t fail, but I don’t
think I’m going to go down in the books with any records for my
achievement either."

"From what I’ve heard," Bobby said, "just
getting through it is enough of an achievement."

"True that," Mitch said with a laugh.

Emily smiled. "So, Bobby, how did you get
this gig with Professor Hazlett?"

"The usual way," he said with a shrug.

"Well, that’s why I have to ask," Emily said
apologetically. "I mean, she gave me a job when she saw me crying
in the Quad. Seriously! I just want to make sure she didn’t find
you kicking the vending machines or something."

"I’m one of her grad students. I just did a
little work at BU, but I liked what I’d heard about this program,
believe it or not. And before that I graduated from Oberlin. Three
years ago."

"Oberlin. Really? Because that’s quite a
Boston accent you’ve got there."

"Would you believe that they let people go
out of state to study these days? And then they let you come back."
He smiled. "Would you like the spelling of my name?"

Jessie glared, and Emily laughed as if she’d
been caught. "Hey, I hope you wouldn’t expect anything less from
Jessie’s friends, right? I mean, I don’t think I’d be doing my job
if I didn’t grill her...TAs when I met them."

"No," Bobby said as he shrugged his
shoulders. "Perfectly understandable. And I get why you’d want to
make sure I was keeping up with your fine tradition of excellence
for Joanna. It’s a pity you’re not still there to keep all of us on
our toes."

By the tone of his voice, it was obvious that
Joanna had told him at least part of her dramatic exit the day
after she’d broken Miranda’s heart. What else did he know?

Emily sighed. "It is. My best job—until I got
this one." She smiled. "Well, I’m sorry. I don’t want to keep you
anymore." She made Jessie move so she could leave. She hugged
Jessie, who was still glaring at her. Then Emily turned around and
stuck her hand out at Bobby. "And it really was a pleasure to meet
you—I hope to see you again."

Bobby shook her extended hand, and Mitch
noted that his grip looked very firm. "I expect we will."

Mitch waved to the two of them, then took
Emily’s hand as they left. Once they were at the train station, he
turned on her. "Do you want to tell me what the Hell that was
about?"

"He’s a fake," she said solemnly.

"He practically gave you his social security
number."

"Right—and I bet if I checked that, I would
have found someone who was twenty-six and went to Oberlin. Just
like I’m sure that when I call Oberlin on Monday they are going to
tell me that someone named Robert Lester graduated three years ago.
But I’m not buying it until I see his face in a yearbook."

"I think you should let this go."

"Okay, honey. Sorry, I’m just waiting for you
to tell me that Jessie can take care of herself. Because it’s only
an eight-year age difference, and he’s her TA."

At that moment, the train came. Mitch didn’t
say anything. "What?" she asked once the train cleared out a little
bit.

Mitch nodded at last. "I think he’s got more
than eight years on her. I don’t put him at a day younger than
twenty-eight."

~~~

Jessie cocked her head as soon as Mitch and
Emily left. "I hope you’re not expecting me to apologize for
her."

Bobby shrugged. "No, I appreciate that she’s
looking out for you. Of course, I think you need to tell all your
friends that they don’t have anything to worry about, because I am
just your TA, nothing more."

Jessie nodded. "Sure. Because I bet you hold
office hours for all your students on Saturday. At night. Over
dinner."

Bobby smiled, and Jessie thought she saw him
blush a little bit. "I just thought that might make conversation
flow more easily."

"Oh, right," Jessie whispered. "Too bad we
didn’t talk about class, at all. Between you and my therapist, I
don’t think I’ve talked this much about my parents since, well,
ever."

"What do you talk about with your
therapist?"

"What I remember about them dying."

"And what’s that?"

"Just about nothing," Jessie answered
honestly. "Blood, sometimes, but I don’t know why."

"How did they die?"

"My dad drowned. My mom died in her
sleep."

"How old was she?"

"About twenty-four." Jessie shuddered just a
little bit. "Just about Miranda's age."

"That’s awfully young to die in your
sleep."

"Heart condition, they said."

"Who’s they?"

"Richard and Lucy." Jessie shook her head.
"No. Just Richard."

"What did your aunt say?"

"Nothing," Jessie said quietly. "She just let
Richard do all the talking."

"How old was he?"

Jessie sighed. "Thirteen, I think."

"And how old were you?"

"Four."

"So how do you know you remember it
correctly?"

Jessie looked at him square in the eye.
"Because you know when you’re that age. When you’re a little kid,
you don’t have to go through the apologetic BS you do when you’re
older. When you’re eight, even. You just get it. And people think
you’re crazy or in the way or rude because you get it and then you
say it. So then no one wants to talk to you or they send you to
your room. Then you start making up excuses for why they must be
right and you must be wrong. Then you grow up, and you realize that
you had it right back then, and if your world seems messed up, it’s
because you bought into someone else’s lies. So don’t lie anymore,
and everything will be just fine."

"And when did you come to that nugget of
wisdom?"

"When I was fifteen," Jessie said quietly.
"And I’ve been very happy ever since."

"Did you mention that to your therapist?"

"No, because if I told him I was happy he’d
want to convince me that I’m not and that would just be annoying.
This guy only seems to be satisfied if I’m unhappy."

"Is it helping?"

"I guess. I mean, no episodes since he took
over."

"Were there episodes with the first guy?"

Jessie took a deep breath. "One. I...got a
weird note. I don’t even remember what it said. I opened it, and
Richard and Zainab said I couldn’t sleep again, and I was having
nightmares. I don’t remember too well. But I guess the doctors got
it before it...snowballed again."

"And what was the magic cure?"

"Sleep," Jessie said with a laugh. "Amazing
how essential that stupid little thing can be. And Richard always
calls me at eleven if he’s not home to make sure I’m in bed."

Bobby looked at his watch, then shook his
head. "Then I guess it’s bedtime for you, my dear."

"I thought you’d never ask."

Bobby took Jessie’s hand. "Jessie, will you
please let me drive you home?"

Jessie grabbed his other hand. "I’ll be happy
too—once I’ve seen the inside of your apartment."

"I don’t think that’s a good idea."

"All I want to do is check out your taste in
furniture. Anything else you’re thinking is all on you."

"I could get into a lot of trouble even if
it’s just showing you my apartment."

"I promise not to tell, and even Emily isn’t
that square." He looked down at her hand and didn’t say anything.
"And please don’t give me some line about being a nice guy, because
I don’t think I’d buy it."

Bobby looked up. "I’m not a nice guy, Jess.
And you’re smart enough that that should bother you."

"Are you...going to get me drunk?"

"That’s not my style."

"Drug me?"

"That’s really not my style."

"Pin me down? Against my will?"

"That would be a first."

She looked him in the eyes and smiled. He
didn’t shrink. "Then I’m not that worried."

~~~

Jessie laughed when they opened Bobby’s
apartment door. "You said South End, dude. This is looking pretty
Roxbury to me."

Bobby threw his keys onto the table. "Next
street over is Roxbury, but I assure you, we’re in the South End
right now."

"Whatever you say," Jessie said. She kissed
him quickly. He looked surprised, but she turned away and headed
for his CD collection. "Oh, what’s this?" She pulled out
Stan
Getz Plays Jobim
and giggled. "What are you, forty?"

"I am not forty," Bobby said as he grabbed
the CD from her. "But just for that..." He started his CD player,
then popped it in.
Corcovado
started playing. Jessie
laughed, then hummed along.

"Not so uncool, I guess," Bobby said as he
kissed Jessie just a little longer than she kissed him.

Jessie took off her jacket, then took Bobby’s
hand and walked him over to the couch. He rested his arm on the
back of the couch and leaned on his hand. She didn’t blink. "This
isn’t smart, Jess," he said at last. "I really should kick you
out."

"It would be beneath me to stop you, so go
right ahead."

He kissed her again. "This isn’t what I
thought it would be."

"You’re overthinking this," Jessie said.
"Don’t worry about before or after. Don’t analyze what it
means."

"Don’t you care about my intentions?"

"For God’s sake!" Jessie pushed him over and
kissed him again. He grabbed her arms, then her hips. She pulled
back. "I’m sorry, did you want to finish what you were saying about
this being a bad idea?"

"You’re wicked Jess," he said as he pulled
her back into a kiss.

She laughed. "And that’s why you like
me."

Sunday was extremely tense at the
Bartolome-Hendrickson house. Miranda came home at ten that morning
and found Zainab up. Zainab shrugged when Miranda asked after
Richard and Jessie. They were both about to go out for brunch when
the door opened. Richard, unshaven and sleepless, walked in. He
started apologizing for not calling, but Zainab shook her head.
Miranda was just about to invite Richard out for breakfast with
them when Jessie strolled in.