Chapter Nineteen
Jane
I should get used to being alone. I’ll be alone for the rest of my life, after all. I mean, if I can’t manage to put my past aside for a guy I really like, a guy as amazing as Anthony, then I’ll never be able to be with anyone. I should’ve known better. I mean, the first guy who ever tried to kiss me, I slapped. And then when, even after that, Clay Shore got up enough nerve to ask me out, I freaked. Once that story made the rounds, no one bothered me again.
At least the sound of the TV keeps me company now. I’m lucky I found one so cheap, otherwise, silence might be my only companion. I lean against the window frame and peer through the cloudy old glass to the street below. It’s raining, nasty-looking. The sort of winter day that makes even me hate the winter. I usually like snow and cold, bundling up inside with some hot cocoa.
I can feel the cold seeping through the gaps between the glass and the wood, and I shiver. I wrap my arms around myself, the thick cardigan I pulled on over my pajamas at least keeping me moderately comfortable, though definitely not fashionable. What does it matter? Nobody will see me. Nobody’s seen me in days, though that’s going to have to change soon. I’ll eventually run out of groceries and have to venture outside. That’s when I’ll worry about looking presentable.
The city is moving from late afternoon to early evening as I watch. All the street lamps are on already, and talk shows have changed to local news. The news is my main connection to the outside world after cutting myself off for days. I’m going to have to get back into the world soon. I don’t have a choice. I wish I did. I wish I could just order everything online and never have to leave my apartment.
Healthy, I know. I took a few psychology classes in college, telling myself that they would be good to help me figure out marketing stuff. Knowing how people think, why they think the way they do. And it made sense at the time, but even as I sat in one class after another, I knew the real reason I signed up for all those classes outside my major.
I wanted to figure myself out. Wanted to find a way to heal what’s broken. I still do want that, but I’ve since accepted that it will never happen. I can’t fix what’s wrong with me, and I can’t trust anyone else to do it either.
A knock at the door shakes me out of my stupor. Crap. I’ll just ignore it. I go back to looking out the window, intent on forgetting I ever heard anything. Nobody visits me, anyway. They probably got the wrong door, and they’ll realize it when I don’t answer or when they text whoever they’re supposed to be meeting...
“Jane? I know you’re home. I hear the TV on in there.”
Shit.
I can’t decide if I’m annoyed with Chloe or glad that she’s tenacious. I’ve been sick with guilt over the way I talked to her. She doesn’t know any other way to be, and I already knew that. She’s this way with everyone. Nobody ever told her there are situations that can’t be smoothed over with a forceful personality or charm.
I must hesitate too long, because she continues. “Come on. Please. Let me in. I came to make peace.”
It’s not her fault, I remind myself, as I open the door. It’s not anybody’s fault but his. My uncle’s face is in my head as I open the door to find Chloe holding up a six pack of beer. “I come with gifts. I’m sorry. It hasn’t been the same at the office without you.”
I can’t help but smile in spite of myself. She’s so genuine that I feel even worse about how I behaved. “I’ve only worked there for a week. How can you say that?”
She shrugs. “It’s true, though. I miss you around the place.”
How can I turn her away? Instead, I step aside to let her in, then sit next to her and take the beer she offers me. I don’t usually drink beer—just the scent is enough to send my mind places I don’t want it to go—but I need a drink if I’m going to get through my story.
Maybe I’ve found someone to trust after all. Or maybe I’ve just reached a place in my life that what I need is so big that I’m desperate for someone to talk to. Chloe could be my friend, if I let myself trust her.
“I’m sorry I acted so crazy back at the office,” I say as I look down into the bottle’s neck. I can’t look at her just now. “I’ve been feeling bad about it ever since. You didn’t deserve it. You don’t know what’s really going on with me because I didn’t tell you, so I can’t hold you to anything.”
She’s uncharacteristically subdued when she replies, “You don’t need to tell me. I’ll mind my business. You were right. I should’ve listened to you when you said you didn’t want me setting you up.”
But I shake my head. I need to tell her—if not her, then who? I don’t have anyone else. “I’m so tired of keeping it all to myself. It’s heavy, and I can’t carry it all on my own anymore.” My voice is surprisingly steady.
She puts her hand on my arm and gives it a compassionate squeeze. “Then I’m here.” Her expression is earnest. “I know I sound like I never take anything serious, but I’m here for you, Jane. Whatever you need. And I promise I’ll listen this time.”
I believe her. And maybe that’s why I tell my story for the first time ever.
I start slow, which surprises me. I always thought when I let someone in on this part of my life it’d come out in a rush, but that’s not the case.
“I told you about my parents’ and how I grew up in a foster home, but I didn’t tell you that I did have an uncle. Kind of. He used to come through town every once in a while. He was my mom’s half-brother, or at least that’s what he said. His job meant he was always traveling, which was the reason he gave for not being able to take care of me when she died. I don’t know how much of what he said was true, but he must’ve been able to prove it because he had it all arranged with my social worker that whenever he was in town, he could spend time with me. It was only once or twice a year from about seven until I was thirteen, and it always felt awkward.” I take a deep, shaky breath. I could stop now, make up some lie or excuse, but Chloe is there, and she’s listening, so I continue, “On my birthday that year, he came by. We went to a bar, which seemed beyond strange to me. I was only a kid, you know? But he was my only connection to my ‘real’ family. He got drunk, and it got really late and the other guys in the bar were looking at me...”
“Oh, my God,” Chloe whispers. Her hand tightens on mine like she knows what’s coming.
I close my eyes, but they pop back open almost immediately when he’s there. “When we got into his car, he grabbed me. Tried to kiss me. I turned my head, but he slobbered all over my face and started groping me. First over my sweatshirt, then he started trying to get under it, then between my legs...”
“Jane...”
“He didn’t...I mean it didn’t get that far. But it wasn’t for lack of trying. Thank God I was wearing jeans. He could barely get his fly down, and then he couldn’t get...it up. He tried, and then he grabbed my hand and put it...” I swallowed hard and felt Chloe’s fingers dig into my arm. “I fought him off and got out of the car and ran all the way back to the house. It was a few miles, but I barely noticed. I was just so glad to be away from him. He never came back, and I never asked about him.” I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. My hands are in fists, but I actually feel a bit lighter. “I’ve never felt comfortable with men since then. I hate being alone with them. I seize right up...if I’m not freaking the fuck out. And that’s why…you know. Why I’m still a virgin.”
The next thing I know her arms are around me, and it’s the first real hug I ever remember getting. “I’m so sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean to push you the way I did. I never would have if I’d known...”
All the fight I had goes out of me. I lean against her and allow myself to accept the comfort she’s trying to offer. “Thank you, Chloe. I’ve never told anyone...never had anyone to tell.”
“I’m glad you told me.” Her embrace tightens. “Thank you for trusting me.”
She finally sits back, taking my hands between hers. I wonder if this is what having a sister could be like.
I’m the one who breaks the silence. There’s one more secret I need to share. “The worst part is, you know how you kept talking about helping me find the right guy? I think I finally did. But I can’t let myself be open with him.”
“You did?” She sits up, and there’s interest in her eyes though she manages to reign herself in. She’s learning. The less I’m pushed, the more I share willingly.
“Well...” I look at her from the corner of my eye to gauge her reaction. “It’s Anthony.”
Her jaw drops, and for several full seconds, she’s actually speechless. Which, I’m sure, is the first time. “What? As in Anthony James?”
I nod, then tell her everything that happened, right down to the last moments in his bed. Well, almost everything. I refrain from anything graphic—and I might leave out some of the more embarrassing noises I made—but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s too busy staring at me with wide eyes, drinking in every detail. By the time I’m done, she holds her head in her hands.
“I—I can’t believe it.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” I smile. I like having a friend.
“You know I don’t mean it that way.” She rolls her eyes, a friendly grin curving her lips. “Wow. You and Anthony.”
“Me and nobody,” I remind her.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know it. I blew it. You weren’t there. How patient is a man like him supposed to be? And the more time that’s passed, the worse it is. I just can’t bring myself to face him again. I’m so embarrassed, and I don’t know how to tell him.”
“Listen. I’ll go with you to find him, if it’ll make you feel better. I think you should try to tell him. If only to make it right for you.” She squeezes my hands. “You can trust him.”
I nod slowly even though I’m not entirely sure that she’s right. Not about trusting him, because that’s something I know for certain. He’s already proven that by confessing that he used my ideas for Chambersmith. And not about whether or not I should tell him, but if I’m strong enough to do it.