Jackpot! (5 page)

However, after four dirty martinis, and seeing Jennifer in a tight pair of True Religions one night when we happened to run into each other at
Hub 51,
this theory didn’t hold much water. I woke up in my agent’s bed the next morning. Instantly, I knew I screwed up. I realized I didn’t have romantic feelings for Jennifer, and that the combination of booze and stupidity had caused the hook-up. Nevertheless, I wasn’t a total jerk, and I did enjoy being with Jennifer and her perfect body, so I just sort of fell into a relationship with her. It was convenient. Plus, I figured maybe she would get me some better gigs now that I was her boyfriend, too. But I’d always been honest with her. In fact, we weren’t even committed to each other. She had told me just weeks earlier that she’d had a date with some guy she met at her gym.

“If you don’t say something I’m going to hit you over the head with this bottle.”

Softly, I managed, “Jen, I can’t have a baby. No way.”

“No way?”

“Look, I’m a history teacher. I make twenty-five thousand dollars a year and some pocket change on the side from the jobs you get me.”

“Danny, I make A LOT of money. That’s not an issue.”

“That’s not the only reason.”

“Then why else?” she asked.

“What about us?”

Her eyes welled with tears. “What about us?”

I gave her a gentle smile, “I think we both know we’re not in love.”

Now the tears started to stream down her face. “I know that, Danny. But we like each other, right? Please do this for me.”

I took a deep breath and then I hugged her and said, “I’m sorry, Jen. I can’t do it. It wouldn’t be fair to you, or to the baby.”

Jennifer pulled away from the hug and I watched her face go from sad and somber to psychotically angry. “You know what, Danny? You are an evil person!” she screamed, “After all I’ve done for you, you won’t even consider giving me the one thing I really want!”

“Jen, we’ve been dating for two months! Plus, why do you feel like I owe you this? You get commission from my jobs, don’t you?”

She stood up, went to the front door and opened it. “Get out!” she shouted.

“Please don’t do this,” I urged, “Let’s talk about it.”

“No! You’ve shown your true colors. I’m not good enough to have your baby.”

“Jen, that’s not it. I don’t want ANYONE to have my baby right now. I really like kids, but I may never want a baby. I’m not sure. What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” she said bitterly, “Just continue being your selfish, self-centered, womanizing self.”

Now I was getting pissed. The nerve of this girl! “Look, I might be a little selfish,” I said, “but I’m not going to feel guilty about this. I’m not doing anything wrong by not wanting to get you pregnant in the next ten minutes.”

“Get out of here! You make me sick!” she shouted, “And by the way, consider yourself agent-less!”

“Fine,” I said, walking out the door, realizing you can’t reason with an unreasonable person.

As I rode the elevator down to the lobby, I found myself feeling sorry for Jennifer. For her to ask ME, a guy she’d been romantically involved with for a little over 60 days, to father her child, she was obviously desperate. If I was her best option, that was sad.

I wasn’t sure I meant it when I told Jennifer I may never want kids. Of course, I wanted kids. Someday. Just not today, or next week, or next year, for that matter. I had a complicated life. I was a hard working history teacher, trying to mold rough, city high school kids into moral, upstanding adults. And I was proud of that. I really felt like my work made a difference. And it was a great feeling.

I was also a struggling actor with ambition and dreams of being wealthy. I felt guilty about wanting to trade in a life of selfless work for what my mother called a narcissistic, egotistical career. But I also wanted to have fun. I liked acting. I liked being in the spotlight. I wasn’t hurting anybody. I was just trying to enjoy my life as much as possible. After all, I was 34 years old. And although that may seem young to some people, my dad died when he was 27, so my theory was, anything can happen. Better enjoy yourself! So, along those lines, for some chick that I’d been dating for the blink of an eye to pressure me into having a baby, that was just purely unacceptable. But the bummer of it all was that I’d lost my agent, the person who was getting me jobs and exposure.

I got off the elevator, walked through the lobby, thinking how glad I was to be getting the hell out of this building, when suddenly, as I opened the glass door to leave, my eyes met the eyes of a woman walking in, and she literally took my breath away. She was beautiful. Dark skin, black wavy hair, and big gorgeous full lips. When she smiled at me, I think my heart stopped.

I suddenly understood the meaning of the phrase “love at first sight.” Of course, I wasn’t in love with her, but yes, I was definitely in love with her face. Not just because it was pretty, but because it lifted me, and made me light up like a Christmas tree. I wasn’t thinking I wanted to nail this girl, or even that I wanted to try to go out with her. It was strange, but just seeing her face, and the way she looked at me gave me inspiration and hope that love really did exist.

And ironically, I was leaving the building where I assumed she lived. Then again, I was leaving Jennifer’s building as well, and any sane person would have told me to sprint out the door after what she’d just asked me to do.

I held the door so Miss Stunning could walk in and then I walked out, briefly turning around to watch her walk to the elevators. She also turned around, saw me, and gave me another one of her dashing smiles. I thought about going back in to talk to her, but because of what had just happened with Jennifer, I thought it was best to leave it be. Yes, I could be a jerk, but I wasn’t a total asshole. I had feelings and I knew Jennifer was upset right now and probably still crying. And I felt sad for her. The last thing I wanted to do was hit on some chick who lived in her building. So I took a deep breath and started to walk, severely bummed out that I may have just passed up someone pretty damn significant.

On the walk back to my apartment, I thought about calling Jennifer to see if she was okay. I didn’t, though. I thought I should leave her alone tonight. Plus, I hate to admit it, but all I could think about was the girl who with one smile, had just stolen my heart.

Chapter 4

It was a tradition in my family to have Shabbat dinner every Friday night at my mother’s condo. Frankie didn’t cook brisket or buy challah bread, though. Instead, we ordered Chinese. We’d been doing it for years, and although both my brother and I looked forward to the food; spring rolls, crab Rangoon, Kung Pao Chicken, and pork fried rice, we couldn’t stand the conversations. They were exactly the same, week after week after week.

For example, Frankie would ask Danny (in her most sarcastic tone), “So, who’s the lucky girl of the month?”

Danny would then reply by saying one of three things. “No one special, Ma,” “Let’s change the subject, Ma,” or my personal favorite, “None of your business, Ma.”

When it came to me, it was all about Max. “How’s Max?” or “Are you ever going to marry that sweetheart of a guy?” And every week, when I walked into the condo, before I even had my coat off, it was the same question. “Why didn’t Max come tonight?”

It’s funny. I had never brought Max to one of our Friday night dinners. Not one. Max and I took my mother out for dinner quite a bit, but for some reason, I chose to keep the Shabbat dinners as a threesome. Asking Max to join us just never seemed quite right.

On this particular Friday night, I took off my coat, realizing that Ma’s question, “Why didn’t Max come tonight?” would never be asked again. Ever. Frankie didn’t say a word about it. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all, and after a few minutes I realized that my break-up had disappointed her so much, that for the first time in her life, Frankie Jacobson was perhaps speechless.

I had called her that morning and told her that Max and I were through. My hand was shaking as I dialed my mother’s number.

“Hello?” Frankie answered the phone.

“Hi Ma, it’s me,” I said, realizing that my voice was shaking too. Breaking the news to Frankie seemed scarier than breaking the news to Max.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately. The funny thing about Frankie was that she could actually read my mind. Danny’s too. The woman was completely intuitive when it came to us. She was able to detect voice inflection, tone, and meaning behind everything Danny and I said, and even what we didn’t say! That was why I was dreading the conversation that was about to take place.

“Nothing, why?” I answered, knowing full well this was a pointless response, since I wasn’t going to fool my mother.

A moment of silence followed, before Frankie spoke again. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

“What?”

“You broke up with Max,” she said in a sad voice.

It was truly amazing. The mind-reader already knew. And all I could think about was my poor mother. There wasn’t a woman in Chicago who wanted grandchildren as much as she did, and now her chances of that had just gone from slim to slimmer. A future filled with sweet little voices, visits to the park, and trips to Costco for diapers and formula was more distant than ever. While her friends would continue babysitting their dozens of grandchildren, Frankie would remain a mother with two very independent, non-committal children.

My mother was fifty-four years old. My dad had died when I was a toddler, and Frankie had never remarried, or even dated, for that matter. She had lived alone since I left for college, clinging to the hope that someday, when we got older, Danny and I would expand the family. Frankie used to tell me her goal was to be a grandmother by the time she was 50. When I got divorced, I realized she would not hit her objective.

“How did you know?” I asked her, regarding the news I’d just delivered.

“A mother knows,” said Frankie in her self-pitying voice.

“I’m sorry, Ma.” I sat there wondering why I was apologizing to my mother for not marrying a man I didn’t love.

“I just don’t understand,” Frankie began, “Max is such a good man. He’s smart, he’s rich…”

As Frankie went on with a list of Max’s good qualities, I stopped listening and began to think about how much I had disappointed her over the years when it came to the men in my life.

“I’m just so disappointed, Jamie,” was the next thing I heard her say. I realized now, that just like Frankie could read my mind, I could read hers, too.

“Ma, I’ve got to go. I’m late for work,” I lied in a desperate attempt to end this conversation that was showering me with guilt I knew I didn’t deserve.

“I love you, Jamie,” she said.

Now I knew my mother felt badly about making the disappointment comment, and I realized her disappointment was in the situation, not in me. I also knew Frankie really meant it when she told me she loved me. And that’s how I was able to tolerate my mother and have a good relationship with her. I loved Frankie dearly, and I wanted to make her happy. But I couldn’t marry the wrong guy just because she wanted a Jewish son-in-law and babies.

I told her we could talk more about it more later, even though I had no intention of bringing it up ever again. Then I said good-bye and I avoided her calls the entire day, wondering each time I saw Frankie’s number pop up, what people ever did without caller ID.

Dinner seemed like a poker game, everyone at the table wondering who was going to hold out the longest and who was going to fold by using the “M” word (Max) first. I was a bundle of nerves, while my brother was enjoying the fact that tonight the focus was on me, and not on his non-commitment issues for a change.

Just as the shrimp fried rice was making its way around the table, Frankie made a subtle move. “So…” she began in a casual, polite voice that both of us knew was forced, “Josh Katz’s wife is pregnant with number three.”

“That’s nice,” I replied, remaining calm, as I took a couple spoonfuls of rice and then handed the container to Danny.