A State of Jane (20 page)

“Can we talk later, Ris? I'm really not up for a conversation right now.”

“What's wrong? Are you OK? I tried you at work and the receptionist said you were out sick.”

I buried my head under the pillow and mumbled into the phone, “Yes, sick. Sick and tired.”

“What happened? Did you and Andrew get drunk last night?”

“Ha!”

“Huh?”

“No, we didn't get drunk last night.” I sighed loudly and came out from under the pillow.

“Well, you can tell me all about it tonight.”

“Tonight?” I flipped over and lay on my back resting the pillow on my chest.

“Yes, tonight. When you help me shop for Katherine and Martin's anniversary gift. Remember?”

I remembered. “Marissa, I'm sorry but I can't go anywhere tonight.”

“Why not? C'mon Jane, you promised!”

“Yes, but that was before the fiasco which was last night. Andrew has a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“He has a girlfriend. And get this, he just met her on Tuesday! Can you believe it?”

“Oh man, that sucks, Jane!” Marissa chuckled. “I told you to prepare for the worst case scenario!”

“So not funny.” My head hurt like I had drunk a bottle of wine and not just a glass.

“Sorry. Hey, it's tough out there. I should know. Been out there much longer than you. Let me cheer you up! We'll go to Shake Shack after shopping. There's nothing a shack burger and a vanilla shake can't fix.”

“Ris, I really don't feel up to it. On top of Andrew having a girlfriend, I forgot to sign up for the LSAT.”

Sounding irritated, Marissa said, “So do it this afternoon. I have to get back to work in a few minutes anyway.”

“It's tomorrow!” Irritated by her being irritated, I calmly said. “Ris, please. Let's just talk tomorrow.”

Marissa didn't say anything.

“Hello?”

“Fine. Jane. It's obvious whose needs are more important in this friendship. I'm constantly listening to you bitch and moan and I always drop everything to help you out. I can't remember the last time you were there for me.”

I held the phone away from me and rolled my eyes. Bringing the phone back to my ear, I said, “Really? You're really gonna throw this at me now? I just blew off the LSAT. My parents are gonna lose it. And you're more concerned about your sister's gift. Isn't being married present enough for her? Let's talk tomorrow. If you haven't bought them something by then, I'll help you. How's that?” Silence. “Marissa?”

I put the phone on my nightstand and turned back over on my stomach. Why did my life have to suck so badly?

*   *   *

I was thinking about how cool it would be if I could turn the men in my life into beady-eyed mice with the mere wiggle of my nose, when the sound of my phone ringing woke me from my
Bewitched
imposed stupor.

Instantly nauseous, I picked up the phone. “Hi Daddy!”

“Hey Pumpkin. Getting ready?”

“Um hmmm.”

“I think you should stop studying and just get some rest now. Probably not much more preparation you can do at this point. Better to relax.”

Pulling the covers over my chin, I said, “OK. If you say so.”

“Knock ‘em dead kiddo.”

“OK.”

“Call us tomorrow.”

“OK. Bye Daddy.” After I hung up, I wiggled my nose wishing my dad would magically appear and tuck me in.

C
HAPTER
35

By the time daylight peeked through my blinds early Saturday morning, my body was sore from having spent so much time in bed. I had nothing planned for the day and since my family thought I was taking the LSAT, I couldn't call them or risk being seen by Claire in our neighborhood. After a quick shower, I jumped in a cab and told the driver to take me to the closest PATH Station. I was feeling adventurous and figured the likelihood of running into Claire or any other member of the Frank family in Hoboken was slim.

When the cab stopped at 33rd Street, I wished I had told the driver to take me to 23rd or 14th instead. After weaving in and out of the Macy's traffic and fighting the urge to stop and buy a new bottle of my favorite Ralph Lauren Romance perfume from one of the many sidewalk vendors, I finally made it to the top of the platform stairs. As if I actually had someplace to be, I quickly ran down the stairs and followed the signs to the PATH train to New Jersey. At the bottom of the stairs, I almost collided with a group of young guys, all dressed in green and wearing green-beaded necklaces. As I walked past, one shouted, “Erin Go Braugh” in my face. I turned around to look at them, muttered, “What the fuck” and quickly ran to the turnstile and dropped 1.75 in quarters into the slot.

After I got my bearings, I scanned the various tracks. I had no idea which one went to Hoboken. I had never been there but was
told it was only a mile from one end to the other, much smaller than my other option, Jersey City. I figured a mile of exploration plus the commute there and back would take me about as long as the LSAT.

Of the four tracks, two were closed, one was empty save for about ten people either sitting quietly on benches or intently looking at their phones, and one was jam packed with more people dressed in green screaming over each other. Hoping it was the empty one, I approached a mousy-looking woman sitting on a bench reading a paper and tentatively said, “Excuse me?” When she looked up, I said, “Um, is this the track for Hoboken?”

The woman shook her head, her frizzy dark brown ponytail bopping up and down, and pointed behind her. “This is Journal Square. That one is Hoboken.”

I looked over at the mass of early twenty-somethings and frowned. “I was afraid of that. What's going on? Is it always like this?”

The woman laughed. “Thankfully, no. It's St. Patrick's day.”

“It's not the seventeenth yet!”

“In Hoboken it might as well be. Today's the annual parade. Any excuse for these kids to drink beer all day.” Looking at me curiously, she said, “You're young. You'd probably have a blast.”

“I don't want to have a blast!” Ignoring the woman's amused expression, I shrugged and said, “I mean, I don't like beer. I guess I'm not going to Hoboken today after all. Thanks.” I began walking back to the turnstiles wishing I could get my money back. I picked up the pace to get back outside and away from the men in green. I rummaged through my bag to find more coins, heard someone call out, “‘Jane!” and, startled, looked up into the smiling face of Bethany walking through the turnstile toward me.

“Hey! Small world!” I said.

Twisting the green strand in her hair that had previously been purple, she said, “What are you doing here? More importantly, why are you headed in the wrong direction?”

“Hiding. Long story. I was hoping for an adventurous day in Hoboken.” I spun around and gestured to the ever-growing crowd of people waiting for the train. “I didn't realize the St. Patrick's Day parade was today.”

“What could be more adventurous than the parade? Come with us. You remember my friend, Anne, right?”

I nodded and smiled at her friend who I recognized from the drunken night at Lex Bar. “Hi, there.”

She smiled and said, “Come with us, Jane!”

I glanced down at my outfit which was desperately lacking the color green. “I'm not dressed for the celebration.”

“Nonsense,” Bethany said. Then she removed a strand of green beads and a four leaf clover charm, one of her many necklaces, and put it over my head. “Ta da! Now you're aptly costumed.”

“I don't even like beer though!”

Anne laughed. “You'll learn to love it!”

Giggling, I said, “You guys are nuts!” I pondered my next move while the two of them stared at me expectantly. Apparently not willing to take no for an answer, Bethany locked her arm with mine and dragged me back toward the train which was slowly making its way down the track.

Breaking into a jog, she tightened her grip on me and said, “Hurry!”

Since I'd already paid the toll and had nowhere to be anyway, I acquiesced and helped Bethany push our way through the crowd onto the train.

Trying to be heard over the rowdy crowd on the PATH, I held the metal pole tightly for balance and loudly asked, “So where are we going anyway?”

A guy pushed against me and said, “Black Bear, cutie, wanna come?”

I could smell beer on his breath and wondered what time he started drinking. The train was too crowded for me to move away from him so I muttered, “I was talking to my friends” and turned so my back was facing him.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned back around. “I can be your friend,” said the drunk guy. He was tall and husky with dark, slightly unruly hair and a distracting beauty mark over his lip. I glanced over at Bethany and pleaded with my eyes for her to rescue me.

Bethany looked at him and smiled. “Been to the parade before?”

“Yeah, I can show you the ropes.” Looking at me, he said, “What's your name?”

Wondering if Bethany misinterpreted my plea for help as a sign of interest, I stared up at his beauty mark and shrugged.

He smiled. “You're cute.”

The train stopped and I turned toward the exit.

“Not yet,” Anne said as even more green-clad people entered the train, pushing me closer to Beauty Mark Guy. “Two more stops.”

I sighed. “So, where are we going?” I glanced at the guy who had his mouth opened to speak and said, “Besides Black Bear?”

Bethany and Anne laughed. “Actually, we're going to Black Bear.”

Displaying a mouthful of straight, white teeth, our new best friend patted me on the back and said, “Awesome!”

Ten minutes later, we stood at the back of the very long line to get into Black Bear. I would have suggested going someplace else if the line for every other bar and restaurant we passed on the street was not equally long. Actually, I
did
suggest we go someplace else, to escape Beauty Mark Guy, but Bethany and Anne wouldn't have it. Apparently, Anne's friend from her book club said she'd heard from their mutual friend's cousin that a lot of people who graduated SUNY Buffalo their year would be at Black Bear.

It was cold out, which made the wait seem excruciatingly long. Shivering, I hugged myself to keep warm. “My God! How early do you have to get here to beat the line?”

Anne pulled her green ski hat over her ears and said, “Bars open at eleven, but the locals know to get in line early.”

I looked at my watch in disbelief. “It's only eleven-thirty! What time do people get in line?”

Applying lip balm, Bethany said, “Nine, maybe?”

“Nine last night?” I was only half joking.

“Ha ha.” Bethany handing me her lip balm. “Want some?”

As I reached for it, I heard a guy say, “Good. Keep those red lips soft and moist for kissing me later.”

I turned around and rolled my eyes at Beauty Mark Guy. He gave me a devilish grin and walked over to us. He was carrying a brown paper bag.

Trying to peek inside, Bethany said, “Whatcha got in there?”

Winking, he said, “Milk. I'm a growing boy.”

“Yeah right,” Anne said. “Got some for us?”

He looked at all three of us. “‘Cuz I'm such a nice guy…” Gesturing toward me, he said, “and you girls are so friendly, OK. But be slick.”

After Bethany and Anne each took a can of beer, he said, “If you see any sign of a cop, put the beer down on the ground and play dumb.” He looked at me and said, “You can have one too.”

Shivering, I spotted the Dunkin Donuts across the street and wished Beauty Mark Guy was offering me a thermos of white hot chocolate instead. “No thanks. I don't drink beer.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Why am I not surprised? Loosen up, Rainbow Brite.”

In quick defense, I said, “I am loose!” When he sneered at me, I looked down and corrected myself, muttering, “I mean, I don't need beer to loosen up.”

Jumping to my rescue, Bethany put her arm around me and said, “Hey, be nice to my friend Jane here!” But then she gave me a serious look. “Jane, maybe you should have a beer. I'm not even sure they'll have a full bar today. Might as well get used to beer.”

Piping in, Anne said, “After the first few, you won't taste it anyway.”

I reluctantly reached into the bag and grabbed a cold can, but only to prove I wasn't uptight.
Not that I care what Beauty Mark Guy thinks.

He grinned and tousled my hair. “There you go, Strawberry Shortcake!” He moved closer to me and said, “We should all huddle close to hide our beers.”

“Nice try!” I said.

Moving in to make our little circle even smaller, Bethany said, “He's right, actually.”

I pulled the tab off of my beer, praying it wouldn't spray all over my jacket and took my first small sip. I held my hand over my mouth so no one would see me snarl involuntarily from the sour taste.

“See?” Anne said. “It's not so bad.”

I held my breath and took another sip, this one bigger. “Not bad at all.”
How many do I have to drink before I won't taste it anymore?

About a half hour later, the line had moved about ten feet and Beauty Mark Guy, whose name was actually William, was telling us how he ran into Paula Abdul in McDonald's the previous weekend.

“She was drunk off her ass! But I guess she was craving Mickey Dees,” he said as his friends, who had finally joined us, nodded in agreement.

“She was high on more than booze,” one of them said.

I brought my almost empty can of beer to my mouth and looked up at William.

He whispered, “Put your beer down.”

I decided he was not so bad after all. “Huh?” I glanced over at Bethany as she slipped her can of beer into the arm of her bulky wool sweater. Then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. In a slight daze, I turned around to face a blonde haired, blue-eyed guy, probably in his early thirties, in a police officer's uniform. “Can you come over here a second?”

I looked over at the others who were watching me with concerned interest. I shrugged my shoulders, “Uh, OK.”

He stepped aside and I followed him, nervously biting my lip.

Ignoring the kids in line who had halted their own conversations to eavesdrop, he looked at the can of beer still in my hands and said, “You know an open container is prohibited outside, right?” His eyes bored into mine.