Lion's Share (28 page)

“You're
what?
” Ed backed away from the phone.

“I'm going back to my place after I finish up at the gallery. I need to be alone for awhile.”

“So what time will you be over? Do you want to wait and have a late dinner, or would you rather eat alone?”

“Ed, I'm saying I won't be over. Or I don't think I will. It's hard to think straight. As I said, I need some time alone.”

“You haven't even been back for twenty-four hours.”

“Well, then, it should be easier for you to adjust to my being away.”

“You're still upset about last night, aren't you? Look, I said a lot of things I didn't mean. Anger does strange things to people.”

“I know; I said a lot of things I didn't mean, too. That's why I want to be alone for a few nights, to sort things through.”

“Where does that leave me, if I may ask?”

“Oh, come on, Ed, we've never structured our whole lives around each other. I'll give you a call in a day or two, okay?”

“Have it your way,” Ed said. “I may or may not be home.” This wasn't the sort of conversation he wanted to be having from work, but on second thought, at least the office environment prevented him from telling her what he really thought. At times like this, he wondered if she was worth the effort. He was starting to understand his father better, to realize why his father worked late, or on other nights walked away from his mother's “dizzy spells.”

Jana brushed his anger aside; there were too many other tasks requiring her attention, like that artist from Los Angeles who'd phoned while she was in Minneapolis.

“Oh, thank God you called,” the harried voice so different from Ed's began. “I've got to change my plane reservations. I don't believe it, but the college won't let me reschedule my Wednesday evening Art in Life class, which means I can't get out of here until Thursday morning.” She went on, complaining about having to teach Art in Life for the third term in a row, how jealous her colleagues were about anyone with a career off-campus. Here she was in a major exhibition and they couldn't care less.

Jana stared hollowly around her and realized that, no matter what was going on with Ed, at least she was in better shape than a lot of other people. She went through all the necessary calming motions, then called Phyllis Mason's office. She explained the situation to Phyllis' assistant, who promised to get the departure date changed on the tickets, then call and give the artist the new flight number.

Most of the other things piled up at the gallery were equally trivial, but Jana busied herself there until after eight. Then, remembering she'd more than likely have free time tonight, she threw the guest list for the gala into her pocketbook, wanting to check it over one more time before the invitations went out.

Niels was walking down the stairs as Jana entered her building. “Where in the world have you been hiding yourself?” he asked the moment he saw her.

“Working,” Jana said. Niels hadn't been in her apartment since she'd returned to the city last September, had he? That day Ed had picked her up at the bus station. They used to sit around talking, gossiping, and drinking once a month at least. “We're putting on this huge city-wide exhibition, and it's driving me crazy,” she continued.

“The environment exhibition? That
is
yours, then—I thought I recognized the name of the gallery. I've seen your posters all over the city.”

“Great,” Jana smiled. “That means our media blitz is working.”

“I guess you
are
going to be in town over the next few weeks, aren't you? I'm in a play in Cincinnati, of all places, from May 15 to June 22. I didn't see you around and was worried I'd have to ask that awful Mrs. Horowitz to take in my mail. You know she reads everything. I'd come back to find that how much I owed on my Visa card was neighborhood information.”

Jana laughed at Niels' description of their neighbor, finding his effeminate gestures a refreshing contrast to the macho act Ed had pulled last night. “I'll be in town, and I'll be happy to take the mail in,” she said. “I'll probably be working like crazy till the exhibition opens May 30, but if you don't catch me around, slide the keys under my door, okay?”

They chatted a few more minutes before Jana found an appropriate chance to say how exhausted she was and to apologize for not being a good neighbor lately. “As soon as you return from Cincinnati we'll have dinner,” she promised. It
would
be fun to sit around with him, but before she could relax with Niels, or anyone else, she needed time alone with her art again.

She shoved a slightly bent key in the mailbox lock. Who picked up her mail while she was away this time? Ed, of course. He'd gone out of his way to come over here. Running into Niels tonight couldn't have been better timed to prove she didn't have to be so reliant on her lover, or whatever he was. Hurriedly she flipped through the envelopes in her hand—nothing but bills. She was still waiting for that check from Blue Cross; she'd paid Dr. Barbash months ago and hadn't been reimbursed yet. She should be lucky she was getting anything back—this individual insurance policy cost over $2,000 per year and provided rotten coverage. Besides taking forever to reimburse a claim, they were continually sending her half what she was expecting, along with a note stating it was the maximum allotted for a particular treatment. She would have to work for a large company in order to get decent insurance, someplace like APL. She'd have no trouble paying the medical bills if she and Ed were married, she thought sourly.

“I
must
be overtired if I can think such thoughts,” she admonished herself. By the time she climbed the steep flight of stairs to her apartment, she was too exhausted to think about anything, let alone work. Disgusted with the world, she took every animal out of her closet, tossed them on the bed, and plopped down in the midst of them. The turtle felt brittle against her neck; the pig's eyes glared at her. She threw the other animals off and lay back with Leroy in her arms. She could barely feel his leg between her thighs; she probably hadn't restuffed him as well as she thought she had. All she'd tried to do was get him clean. Was it such a crime to have wanted a perfect lion?

She placed his other leg next to the first. That was better, but now his head hit her breast at an awkward, uncomfortable angle. She maneuvered the head out of the way and braced her chin on one paw. No matter what she did he seemed to placidly accept it. But she was used to someone responding now, she was used to someone cuddling back and sometimes surprising her with a kiss or a tickling finger.

Why hadn't she thought to take the ribbon off Leroy's neck? She was going to ruin it, but she was too tired to get up now. As she was about to drift off to sleep, she felt his fur hot against her; she rolled over, unconsciously abandoning the lion just as she abandoned Ed at night. Leroy was still there when she woke, his motionless body locking her against the wall.

She glanced at her watch: 9:45. That's the nice thing about living alone, Jana reminded herself, she could sleep when she wanted, paint when she wanted. So long as she put in her day at the gallery, the rest of her time was her own. She could get up and paint right now, without giving a second thought to what Ed considered a respectable bedtime. And when she was finished she could leave the canvas set up, she didn't have to feel like a little kid told to put away her toys because Mommy and Daddy were expecting company. Her space was her own here, no one would be looking over her shoulder. She didn't have to feel guilty about using inspiration “as an excuse,” as Ed so bluntly put it. It felt good to be home again.

She pulled the drawing of the sheep on a woman's chest out of her portfolio. Yes, she told herself, that woman knew what it felt like to be trapped; locked against the wall by a sheep, a plush lion, or a human lover, it made no difference. She placed a primed canvas on her easel and set to work in a dazed fury which might have frightened her if she hadn't chalked it up to just waking from a nap. She painted the woman's chest on the white sheet, brown, white, brown, white, applying the paints fresh from their containers, using the canvas like a palette to blend the colors. A circle for her head, then full, mountainous breasts. She dipped one of the smaller brushes in red paint and drew a line dividing the breasts, then a small square above the line, dabs of paint beneath it.

The weight on that woman's chest appeared overbearing, it reminded Jana of an open wound, a woman bleeding to death. Herself perhaps. “You have to paint into your fear, not give way to it,” Harriman used to tell his beginners classes. She lunged forward, dipped the brush again. Without bothering to scrape off the excess, she went over the line quickly but carefully. She let it dry for a minute, then repeated the process. Now it had a thick, velvetlike texture, but the image was even more horrific.

Exhausted, Jana lay back on the bed. It had been a long time since she'd gotten so worn out by painting. Unconsciously, she gripped her crotch. She felt the same sensation as when she'd sat alone staring out the window at Yaddo last summer, the bodily sense of missing Ed. “Don't you even care enough about me to let go of the artist for a few minutes?” Ed's harsh words rang in her ears. Last night, her response had been so quick, so cut and dried: “No, I don't!” She twisted Leroy's long tail around her wrist, unwound it and twisted it around the other direction. “I guess I care more than I realized,” she admitted aloud. Painting was a part of her life, but it was no longer her
whole
life. The work on that canvas might have been intense, but it wasn't enough to get her through the night.

The phone was right by the bed, all she had to do was reach for it, what was she waiting for? She picked up the receiver and pounded Ed's numbers. She asked if it was too late for her to come over. She was trembling, shivering, shaking as she did some nights in his arms.

“Oh, for God's sake, make up your mind!” Ed said brusquely. Jana gasped. “Okay, look, I didn't mean that as harshly as it sounded. Of course you can still come over. And take a cab—it's nearly midnight.”

She put the phone down quickly, before she could say “I love you” or “I miss you” or anything that corny. She closed the paint jars tightly, turned the still-wet canvas to face the wall, then picked up a tarp and threw it over the easel for good measure. The paint was liable to smear, but at the moment that seemed like it might be the best answer. The last thing she needed was to meet this monstrosity head-on next time she came in here.

“Maybe I'll feel more comfortable if I bring a nightgown,” Jana mused as she hunted for the keys she'd hurriedly thrown into her pocketbook. Some part of her still wanted to keep a distance from Ed. But she didn't even know where she'd put that nightgown she'd bought in Saratoga last summer. It was enough to have found her keys.

That nightgown never felt comfortable, she reminded herself as she crawled into a cab. She'd have been better off buying silk pajamas, like the Chinese pair she'd brought to camp. They were incredible—black bottoms with an orange and black print top that had thick ribbon ties instead of buttons. The kids in her bunk had gotten angry with her for losing points in the volleyball game and put some sort of oatmeal mixture between the sheets of her cot; it was only the second time she'd worn those pajamas, and they'd been ruined.

The girl in the cot next to hers had a blue gingham nightgown with a little stuffed dog to match. All Jana had was polyester baby dolls and that red velvet dachshund her parents had sent. It was the stupidest-looking dog she'd ever seen, bright red with black ears and a pipe cleaner tail, not even a foot long, less substantial than a Coney Island hot dog. She'd written home saying she wanted a
small
stuffed animal, meaning that the teddy bears from when she was younger were too large, too dirty, embarrassing—but she didn't mean
that
small. It had to be big enough for the other kids to notice, maybe an autograph hound like older girls had. As if anyone in her bunk would have signed for her.

At last the cab reached Ed's building. Jana shoved a ten dollar bill through the grate and rushed out without asking for change, anxious to curl up in his arms and forget everything. She needed to be held, touched in ways she'd hadn't known about a year ago. Whatever problems there might be between her and Ed, it was better than being alone with the memories.

Thank God he didn't want to talk about their conversation today. He'd been half asleep when she'd called and now, an hour later, he snored lightly beside her. She placed one arm under the pillow and wondered what had become or that dachshund. She'd left him standing on the cot when she went home earlier than planned. She hadn't bothered to bring him to the infirmary, either. What did she expect him to do, bark at Dr. Waters? How could a red velvet dog protect her?