Confucius Jane (11 page)

“Jane! Careful!”

“Sorry. I'm sorry, Aunt Jen.”

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Would you mind letting Minetta know, if you see her?”

“Sure. No problem.” Jane wanted to hug her for offering the perfect excuse to drop by Noodle Treasure. “I'm on it.”

Aunt Jen opened her mouth to say something else, but Jane darted past and out the door before she could speak. When a gust of cold wind made goose bumps rise on her forearms, she belatedly looked down at her attire. In her rush to leave, she'd left her sweatshirt behind. Her crimson “Where's the Beef?” shirt wasn't exactly the sexiest of garments, but at least it was better than that Joe Camel tee. In the act of crossing the street, a pang of insecurity made her suddenly want to turn tail, but Fate intervened in the form of a speeding taxi and the momentum carried her to the front door. Resolutely, she pushed.

Sutton always sat in the corner at the window counter, and Jane forced herself not to look that way. Instead, she scanned the depths of the restaurant for Min, who was seated in the back near the kitchen.

“Hey, Min,” she called. “Dinner in thirty.”

Min looked up, frowning. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Your mother says so.”

“Okay.”

Steeling herself, Jane turned around. Sutton was looking directly at her, and suddenly, Jane couldn't breathe. Dressed in pale green scrub pants and an NYU sweatshirt, her honey-colored hair pulled back and her glasses sliding down her nose, she looked rumpled and exhausted and even more beautiful than usual.

Jane raised her hand in an awkward little wave and immediately hated herself.

“Hi,” Sutton said.

Taking the greeting as permission to approach, Jane threaded her way around the tables. “Hi. It's good to see you.”

Sutton took a sip of tea before saying, “Same.”

Okay, so far so good. They were talking. Sutton hadn't ignored her. She hadn't spoken in anything other than monosyllables, either, but for now Jane was going to take what she was given. She rested her arms on the counter. “How was your day?”

Sutton's smile held a touch of awe. “It ended up being … amazing, actually.”

Jane was fleetingly jealous of whatever had put that expression on Sutton's face, but she also never wanted it to leave. “What happened?”

“This afternoon, I got to assist one of the residents with an emergency ventriculostomy.”

“I'm afraid I'm going to need that in plain English.”

“Sorry. It's a procedure for people who have a condition called hydrocephalus, which happens when cerebrospinal fluid builds up in the brain. If the fluid isn't drained, mental disability or death can result.”

“That sounds … terrifying. How do you treat it?”

“A surgeon inserts a shunt into the brain that drains the fluid. That's what I helped with.”

Jane didn't know what to say. Sutton had spent her day saving someone's life, while she spent her day delivering cookies and writing fortunes. She felt her confidence falter. “Wow.”

Sutton made a dismissive gesture. “It's not actually that big of a deal.”

“Oh? Really? Saving someone's brain function and life isn't a big deal?”

“I only helped keep the field clear and then sewed up the patient afterward. I'm not allowed to do anything more complicated than that, yet.”

“I still think you're remarkable.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Jane knew they'd been a mistake—not because they were in any way dishonest, but because they were too much. In the ensuing awkward pause, Sutton looked down and reached for her chopsticks.

When she brought one of Mei's homemade dumplings up to her mouth, Jane forced a smile. “I love the dumplings here. Do you want to know a secret? My aunt buys them frozen from Mei by the hundred instead of making her own.”

“I don't blame her,” Sutton said.

“What kind are those?”

“Pork and cabbage.”

“Excellent.” As she watched Sutton attempt to grab another, inspiration suddenly struck. “Have brunch with me on Saturday.”

Dumplings forgotten, Sutton looked up at her with a slightly panicked expression. “Jane…”

At Sutton's tone, Jane felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Sutton was already using breakup voice, and they weren't even together yet. “Yes?” she asked, hoping her own voice was steady.

“I don't want you to get the wrong idea.”

“What idea? I am idea-less.”

“My life…” Sutton shook her head. “My life is just so chaotic. Soon, I'll finish my degrees and I could end up doing my residency anywhere in the country or even internationally, and … and I'm babbling. I'm sorry.” For an instant, she allowed their eyes to meet before she looked away. “I don't have the time or energy for anything but a friend right now. And I probably wouldn't be a very good friend, either.”

“Well, you'll need some sort of midday meal on Saturday, right? Why don't you join me for dim sum? Have you heard of it? Chinese dumpling extravaganza?”

“Jane…”

There was that tone again, and Jane furiously tried to summon a quick response that would forestall Sutton from rejecting her outright.

“Min's been wanting to go for ages. Come with us. Ten o'clock. We'll be done by eleven.” Holding her breath, Jane mentally crossed her fingers that Minetta's presence would clinch Sutton's acceptance.

When Sutton continued to looked dubious, Jane acted on instinct. Looking over her shoulder, she called, “Min! Dim sum Saturday?”

“Where?” Min said, never even looking up.

“Golden Unicorn.”

“Sure.”

Jane turned and mustered her best carefree grin. “C'mon. You'll laugh a lot. I promise.”

“Well, seeing as Min and I are so compatible…” Sutton said, the hint of a smile curving her lips. “All right.”

“All right!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jane realized she probably should have tempered her enthusiasm. She needed an exit strategy posthaste, before Sutton rescinded her acceptance. “Speaking of Min, I'm going to see how she's doing on her homework. See you Saturday.”

Without glancing back, she made her way toward the rear of the restaurant and sank into the seat next to Min, who was paying no attention to her math textbook whatsoever.

“So I'll be your chaperone, I take it?” she whispered as she typed out a text message.

“More like a third wheel.”

“Sounds fun.” The words fairly dripped with pretended sarcasm. “I can't wait.”

“Me, neither.” Jane laced her hands behind her head and stared up at the streamers that still crisscrossed the ceiling. “Me neither, kiddo.”

 

C
HAPTER
S
IX

A
S SHE CROSSED HESTER
Street, Sutton felt her pulse elevate. Sometimes, being more in tune with her body than the average person was a curse. Right now, she knew that her autonomic nervous system was provoking a mild “fight or flight” response—diverting blood away from her digestive system and into her skeletal muscles while simultaneously dilating both the bronchioles in her lungs and the pupils in her eyes. And all because she was just a few minutes away from seeing Jane again. The human body truly was a miracle. Now, if only controlling attraction were as easy as saying “no” to a date.

Not that she'd actually managed to turn Jane down. If she had, she would be joining her friends for brunch at Sarabeth's on Central Park South right now, or enjoying a quiet cup of coffee at home. Instead, she was bucking the wintry morning breeze on her way back into Chinatown for another cultural experience.

Sutton shook her head. Who was she kidding? The promise of more traditional Chinese fare hadn't enticed her to say yes. Something about Jane was irresistible. Her eyes, maybe, or her laugh. Her spontaneity, or her sense of humor, or the subtle layers that Sutton occasionally glimpsed beneath her laissez-faire attitude. There was a complexity to her that Sutton found refreshing. Jane had virtually nothing in common with her friends or former crushes, and she was nothing like the driven, intensely focused woman with whom Sutton had shared a whirlwind relationship. Maybe those differences were the source of Jane's magnetism.

Since their brief chat earlier in the week, Jane hadn't appeared in Noodle Treasure, and the prospect of seeing her had made it difficult for Sutton to doze off again after waking with the sun this morning. Min's presence today notwithstanding, Sutton was getting closer and closer to date territory. If Jane kept asking, she was going to say yes in a weak moment. And then she'd regret it. Sutton hated regret. What a useless, energy-draining emotion.

Are you so sure you would?

That tiny voice was back. Sutton tried to ignore it. Maybe she was becoming schizophrenic. Schizophrenia did, after all, tend to manifest in one's twenties.

“Oh, stop it,” she muttered as she caught a glimpse of herself in the window of an organic grocery. At least she looked good. The chill had dusted her cheeks with a light blush, and her hair shone golden in the sunlight. The collar of her blue turtleneck sweater—chosen because it matched her eyes—peeked out from beneath her jacket, and black jeans hugged her hips and thighs in all the right places.

Sutton took a deep breath as she approached the crooked sign for Baxter Street. As soon as she turned the corner, she saw them waiting—Min in a bright pink coat with a faux fur collar, and Jane in a dark gray zip-up hoodie. Instead of admiring her lanky frame, or the way a few strands of her dark hair had resisted her gel and lay feathered across her forehead, Sutton focused on Jane's unseasonable garb. Did she ever wear anything heavier than a sweatshirt?

“Good morning.”

“Hi.” Jane's smile held a touch of puppyish enthusiasm that was wholly endearing, and Sutton's traitorous heartbeat sped up in response. “Ready for dumplings?”

“I am,” Sutton said as they turned south toward Canal. “But is that really all you're wearing?”

“Jane doesn't like coats,” Min said. “She's a freak of nature.”

“Oh, thanks.” Jane elbowed her. “Maybe I just run hot. Ever think of that?”

Min and Sutton exchanged a glance, and Min rolled her eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I see I'll be heckled all through brunch.” Jane turned to Sutton. “How was the rest of your week?”

Sutton hesitated, not sure of how much detail to go into. She didn't have much practice at discussing her research with laypeople. “Not nearly as eventful as the first half. But I did turn in a draft of an article to my advisor yesterday.”

“Congratulations. What's it about?”

“Do you really want to know, or are you just being polite?”

“Sutton,” Jane said gravely. “I'm not a fan of pretense. When I say something, you can be sure I mean it.”

Flustered, Sutton looked away down the street, past the gold-sellers and the tiny stores selling handbags and knickknacks and T-shirts. “I didn't mean to imply that you … well.” She watched her breath float away on the air. “This article grew out of some of my doctoral research on using surgical techniques in combination with medication to treat several common neurological disorders that affect memory.”

“So like … Alzheimer's?”

“Yes, and other kinds of dementia.”

“That sounds like a pretty big deal.”

“It might be.” Sutton made a snap decision to share a little more. Jane really did seem genuinely interested. “The model I've been working off of is epilepsy treatment, in which surgery is often used if medication doesn't work.”

As they turned the corner, a quick series of loud popping sounds preempted whatever Jane had been about to say. Gunshots! Without conscious thought, Sutton took two quick steps to stand in front of Min in an effort to shield her while scanning the packed street. Her earlier fight-or-flight reaction felt like child's play. Why wasn't the rest of the crowd in a panic?

When Jane touched her arm, Sutton whirled so quickly that Jane immediately raised her hands in a show of innocence. “Easy. It's okay. Just someone stupid enough to set off a real firecracker.”

Sutton exhaled as the relief hit home. Ahead, a small cloud of white smoke was dissipating quickly into the air, and the raucous laughter of what sounded like adolescent boys filled the street. Firecrackers. Of course. To frighten away the demons.

The high-pitched whirr of a police siren filled the air, but Sutton had a feeling the perpetrators had already dispersed into the throng. “I wasn't expecting that,” she said lamely. At least Min, whose attention remained riveted on her phone, hadn't noticed her reaction.

“Throwing yourself into the line of fire goes way above and beyond the Hippocratic Oath,” Jane said softly as they continued to follow Min along the sidewalk.

“Depends on your definition of harm, doesn't it?” Sutton was glad to give her brain something to do other than wallow in embarrassment. “Standing by and doing nothing can be just as bad as inflicting pain.”

Surreptitiously, she watched Jane think. Her face scrunched up a little when she was concentrating hard on something. It was cute.

“I'd call that inaction,'” she said finally. “Not harm.”

“What about neglect?”

But Jane shook her head. “No, neglect is when you do nothing but you're supposed to do something. You're under obligation. Nobody except the Secret Service is under obligation to throw themselves in front of a bullet, right? And then only for their protectee.”

They paused at a crosswalk and Min spun to face them. “You guys are scrambling my synapses.”

Jane jerked her head toward Sutton. “Blame her. She's the neuroscientist.”

“Guilty as charged.” Sutton glanced at their surroundings. Across the street to the east, a tall, brown brick structure towered over the nearby buildings, dominating the field of view. “I meant to ask this on New Year's,” she said, pointing to it, “but what is that?”