A State of Jane (26 page)

Lainie was a self-proclaimed expert in everything so I didn't want to apologize for not blindly drinking the Lainie Kool-Aide, but she was just as patronizing single as she was in a relationship and it
didn't bother me before.
That much anyway
. Lainie hadn't changed as a result of her relationship with Antoine;
I
had changed as a result of her relationship with Antoine. Because I was jealous. For that, I wanted to apologize. Maybe not for being envious but for unleashing the bitch within. Or maybe for being bitter about her happiness. Or at least for
sounding
bitter about it. The truth was everything happened so quickly that I had no idea what I was sorry for. But harsh words were spoken and I knew I was primarily responsible for our fight. I also knew I had to express remorse in order to untie the guilt-imposed knot in my stomach.

Although Lainie hadn't been spending much time in our apartment, I knew she was home that night because I saw light peeking through her bedroom door and Mary J. Blige softly playing on her stereo. When I heard her go to the bathroom, I quickly left my room and pretended to walk to the kitchen so I could see if Antoine was with her. He wasn't. That was a rarity of late and so I took it as my opportunity to have a chat.

I sat on the edge of her bed, and while I waited for her to come out of the bathroom I leafed through one of her gossip magazines. Kim Kardashian was on the cover of almost all of them.

“Can I help you?”

I tossed the magazine to the side and looked up at Lainie. She was wearing a green facial mask and her almond-shaped eyes made her look like an alien. Trying to lighten the mood, I giggled and said, “Looking hot, Lainie.”

“Hmm. I don't recall inviting you into my bedroom so if you want to insult me, do it from outside.” She stood by the side of her door and motioned towards the hallway.

So much for keeping things light
. “I was kidding. I just thought we should talk. I saw that Antoine wasn't here and figured it might be a good time.” I nervously tapped my foot against the wooden floor of her bedroom, reminded once again that Lainie had still not complied with our lease's eighty percent carpet rule.

“I'm not going to feel guilty about having a boyfriend, Jane,” Lainie said, still not moving from the doorway of her room.

Trying not to sound annoyed, I said, “I don't expect you to. That's why I'm here.”
But why listen to me when you can hear the sound of your own voice?

Finally moving, Lainie turned her desk chair so it was facing the bed and sat down. “OK, talk,” she said.

Her feet were stretched out next to me on the bed and normally I'd have joked that they smelled, but I decided not to go there. “I haven't been myself lately and I know it's gotten in the way of my friendships, including ours. I'm sorry.”

Looking me square in the eyes, she said, “How have you not been yourself? Because you've been immature, spoiled, and controlling? You were all those things when we met, Jane.”

My cheeks burned as if she'd just slapped me across the face. I didn't want her to see me cry so I stood up and walked to her door. With my back to her, I wiped my eyes, said, “I'm sorry I bothered you” and started to walk out.

“Oh fuck. Jane. Jane, come back.”

I turned around and walked back to her door. “Yes?” I didn't know if I could handle further attack on my character and held my breath.

Standing up again, Lainie walked towards me. “I didn't mean… Oh crap, are you crying?”

“No.” When my lips began to quiver and my vision blurred from the tears, I changed my answer. “Yes! Sorry!”

“I shouldn't have been so blunt. I'm sorry.”

“But you really feel that way?”

Lainie didn't say anything. Our eyes locked and I silently pleaded with her to retract her comments. “Sometimes I feel that way. But, not always,” she said apologetically.

I wasn't sure that made me feel any better. “OK.”

“Most of the time, it's endearing. You're a type A, Jane, for sure. And you always think you're right.”

Reddening, I said, “
I
always think I'm right? Pot. Kettle. Black.”

Lainie's eyes widened behind the green goop on her face. “Me?”

“Uh huh! ‘You should play the field, Jane.’ ‘The NYC dating world is a zoo, Jane.’ ‘You should listen to me, Jane.’ Sound familiar?”

Lainie smiled for the first time. “Oh.”

“Oh,” I echoed.

“So, can we start over? What did you want to talk about?”

“I had wanted to say…” I cleared my throat. “Before you so harshly summarized my most egregious attributes, that I realized you've just been trying to help me and I'm sorry I was a bitch about it.”

“Apology heard and accepted. I know how difficult it is for you to admit when you're wrong.”

“Yes. And I know how it pains you to rub it in my face.”

Nodding in agreement, Lainie said, “Yes, painful. It hurts.” Faking a cry, she said, “Hurts so much.”

“Oh, shut up, you alien!” I grabbed a magazine from her bed and threw it at her.

Looking confused, Lainie said, “Alien?” Then she touched a finger to her face and yelled, “My mask!” Running out of the room, she shouted, “How long have we been talking?”

“Not that long. Relax!” I said, laughing as I followed her into the bathroom and watched her scrub the mask off her face. “What did you think would happen? Your face would turn green permanently?”

“No! But over exposure could burn my face, right? Or over dry it,” she said, patting her face with a towel.

“I wouldn't know. Never used a facial mask.”

“You should. We're never too young to start caring for our skin. Down south, girls start getting facials in their teens.” Patting the top of my head, she said in her Southern accent, “You might be a few years younger than me, but you're no spring chicken,
Cher
.”

“Hmm, don't they say ‘Cher’ in New Orleans? And isn't your family from Atlanta?”

Lainie threw the towel on the floor and started walking out of the bathroom. “Once again, I try to help you and you miss the point!” Smiling, she said. “Want to use some of the mask?”

I picked the towel back up, placed it on the towel rack, where it belonged and followed her into the hallway. Glancing back at my room, I said, “I appreciate the offer but I really should take a practice exam. I signed up for the regular LSAT course, but think I should take the advanced course instead. It's focused on students who want to get into a top-tier school. I need to get at least a 158 on a practice exam to enroll and, as you might have noticed, I haven't really been studying much.”

“I hadn't noticed. Been too busy avoiding you.”

Chuckling, I said, “But we're good now, right?”

Lainie nodded. “We're good.”

“Cool. OK, I'm going to make some coffee and try to get in a few hours of prep.” I started walking to the kitchen.

“Jane?”

I turned around. “Yeah?”

“If you meet a cute guy in your class, please don't think it's fate that you signed up for the same course and imagine a life in the law firm of
Jane and Husband LLP
, OK?”

“Girl Scout's honor!” With my palm facing out and my thumb holding my little finger, I gave her the Scout Sign.

Shaking her head at me, Lainie said, “I should have known you were a Girl Scout.”

I shrugged. “I am who I am.”

Lainie smiled sheepishly. “I was one too. Troop 442.”

At the same time, we sang,
“Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other's gold.”

C
HAPTER
44

I should have realized it wouldn't take forty-five minutes to get across town to West 56
^th
Street and, because I gave myself an extra ten minutes to get a good seat and settle in, I arrived at the class almost thirty minutes early. There was only one other student in the room. He was reading so all I could see was the dark brown hair that covered the top of his head. He was sitting in the center of the second row, exactly where I wanted to sit so I sat down in the desk next to his and shyly said, “Hi.”

He looked up, smiled lazily and said, “Hey there. Another early bird,” before taking a sip of his Venti Starbucks.

His eyes were turquoise, like the water in Cozumel, Mexico where I had gone with Marissa right after I broke up with Bob. They were beautiful and I was momentarily rendered speechless. Feeling myself blush, I said, “Yeah, I didn't think the cross-town bus ran so often on Saturday mornings!”

Blue Eyes stretched his lean but muscular arms over his head and grinned. “I live in Park Slope. Not used to taking the subway into the city this early either.” Shrugging, he said, “So here I am.”

“You want to be a lawyer?”
Duh, Jane! Why else would he be taking the LSAT?

“Well, I want to go to law school. Not sure I'll actually practice law.”

“Really? Why not? I mean, why bother with the law degree if you might not even want to be a lawyer? Lots of time and expense involved, no?”

Maintaining a relaxed position with his head resting against the palm of his hand and his elbow on the desk, Blue Eyes faced me. “I already have an MBA. Having a legal degree too will definitely give me an edge in the biz.”

I had no idea to what “biz” he was referring, but he was so cute, it didn't matter and if he already had his MBA, he had to be at least my age, if not older.

“Cool,” I said, wondering what else
I
could do with a law degree besides practice law.

“You like U2?”

“The band?”

Blue Eyes nodded.

“Love them. My best friend's family is practically off-the-boat Irish and loves all things Ireland, including Bono, The Edge, and especially Larry Mullen Jr. I've seen them three times with her and her sister. Why?”
Dare I hope he's going to ask if I want to go with him to a concert? Or see a cover band?

“I love them too. Was just listening to ‘Rattle and Hum’ on my iPod. They just don't make music like that anymore.”

I said, “Agree completely!” before turning around to check out the group of people who had joined us in the classroom. We all acknowledged each other's presence with a nod, a smile and a soft “Hi,” but then I turned back to Blue Eyes, hoping to resume our conversation and see what else we had in common. He was on the phone but smiled at me. I smiled back and fidgeted with my notebook while struggling to hear his end of the conversation.

“Me too. OK, bye,” he said. He placed his phone in his messenger bag and said, “My wife — calling to wish me good luck on my first day of school. She was still sleeping when I left this morning.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Your wife?”

“Yeah, she's a teacher. Kindergarten.”

“Your wife?”

Furrowing his brow, Blue Eyes said, “Yeah, why?”

Why? Hello? You aren't wearing a ring! And gorgeous men should always wear a ring when chatting up hopeful, single women!

That is what I
wanted
to say. But I didn't dare. Embarrassed, I said nonchalantly, “I wasn't sure if I heard you the first time.” Boldness and a bit of anger quickly replacing my shame, I gestured towards his left hand and added, “And married men usually wear rings. You know,
wedding
rings?”

Blue Eyes chuckled. “Yeah, my wife took it to be polished. She suggested that I wear a cigar ring in the meantime so I wouldn't mislead all of the single ladies.” He adopted a girl's voice for the last part that I assumed was supposed to sound like his wife. In his normal voice, he said, “But I figured I could manage to stay out of trouble for a few days. Everyone at work knows I'm married and I doubt anyone in this class would be concerned about my marital status.” He laughed again. “There are much cheaper ways to get a date than this!”

Feeling my face burn, I said, “Totally.” Then I opened my notebook to the first page and wrote my name in script in small letters on the upper left corner. I looked up at the ceiling.
I know, Lainie. I know.
Then I wrote “Focus” in big letters underneath my name.

Drawing to mind the drinking game we sometimes played in college, I silently chanted to myself,
“What's the name of the game
?” Drum roll.
“The LSAT course!” “Why do we play?”
Drum roll.
“To get into a good law school!”

C
HAPTER
45

“See you next week,” I said to Roberto (formerly known as Blue Eyes) before walking out of the classroom and onto 56
^th
Street a few weeks later. I had the entire day ahead of me and had no desire to spend the afternoon studying. I had gotten a score of over 160 on my last two practice exams and still had seven weeks to further improve my testing skills. I needed a break and decided to walk home. It was a warm, sunny day and I unbuttoned my trench coat, put on my sunglasses, and began walking north, figuring I'd cross town through the park. I heard my phone ring and stepped aside to answer it. “Hey, what's up?”

“Please come over tonight,” Claire said, a hint of desperation in her voice. “I just can't bear to spend another night harvesting virtual crops on Farmville!”

And if you update your status one more time about what Kevin is making for dinner, I might have to de-friend you.
“OK, I'll pick up a movie.”

“Something funny. And no child-birth scenes.”

“No worries. I rented
The Backup Plan
with Marissa last weekend. It was so dumb. Can I get a romantic comedy, or will Kevin throw me out?”

“I'm letting Kevin go out with the guys.”

“Cool. Ladies' night!”

“Pick up Mallomars. Or Chips Ahoy! Or Double Stuff.”

Laughing, I said, “No worries. I'll bring goodies. Seven?”

“Can you make it six-thirty? Not sure I can stay up much past nine.”

Realizing the closest Blockbuster to my apartment was all the way on First Avenue, I resumed walking at a brisk pace so I'd get there before sundown. “OK. I want to get up early for the ten-fifteen spin class anyway.”

“Ten-fifteen is early?”

“For those of us who don't have the luxury of staying in bed all day, yes.”

“Luxury? Just wait till you're preggers, little sister!”

“Whatev! Bye Claire.” After hanging up, I threw the phone in my pocketbook and hailed a cab.