Lost Along the Way(74)
“Maybe I’ll light the house on fire and burn your refuge to the ground.”
“Always the optimist.”
“Just my luck lately, that’s all.”
“Your luck will change, Jane. It will,” Meg said.
“I know. I just need to chill the hell out and relax. I’m three hours away from midtown Manhattan and anyone who knows me. There’s no reason on earth for me to be so tightly wound at this point.”
“Come on,” Meg said. She handed her a small china plate with a warm muffin on it and a mug of coffee. “Let’s watch the news. I feel like I have no idea what’s going on in the world.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of being out here?” Jane asked. “I don’t want to know.”
“Relax. No one is out to get you,” Meg said.
“I know. I know. I know. I think.”
Ten minutes later Jane sat in front of the TV with Meg nestled next to her on the couch and Cara sitting quietly in an armchair, watching the news. One of the myriad of smug reporters with whom Jane had become very familiar was standing in front of the courthouse in lower Manhattan, using her best “on camera” voice to update the American public on Doug’s affairs. Their life, now in ruins, was the day’s lead story. Jane shuddered to think about how many people whom she’d never even met were rooting for her husband to go to jail for the rest of his life—and for her to suffer some equally tragic fate.
They watched in silence as men in dark suits escorted Doug past the throngs of cameras and microphones, hairy hands in polyester suit sleeves reaching across her husband, begging for a sound bite. What do they want him to say?, she wondered. What made them think that this time he would finally open up and explain his actions? She knew he didn’t have an explanation, at least not one that was acceptable to her or anyone else. Their questions were pointless. If they were waiting for some sort of epic confession, they’d have to wait forever. And they’d have to wait in line behind her.
“Doug Logan is back in court today as prosecutors prepare to bring their case against him for the financial scheme he masterminded in an attempt to steal from countless investors. What’s most interesting today is that his wife, Jane Parker Logan, was not in attendance in the courtroom, as she has been for previous court appearances. In fact, sources at her Upper East Side apartment building say that they have not seen her in days, and her whereabouts are currently unknown. Sources tell us that Jane recently had an argument with another tenant in her building, and that the co-op board has been in discussions to evict her from her home. It’s possible that this was too much for her to bear in light of the stress that she’s currently under, and we are now forced to wonder if Jane has left town entirely and gone into hiding, or worse. Only time will tell. We will of course update you as this story develops, but right now it seems as if Jane Logan is missing. This is Alecia Sparks, Channel Four News.”
Jane gripped her mug, wishing that it contained whiskey. She tried to speak but instead sipped her coffee until it caught in her throat and she coughed it back up all over her jeans and the white slipcovered sofa. Great, she thought. Two more things that are now probably ruined. Just like my husband, just like my marriage . . . just like me.
They stared at the newscast, now reporting on a lost dog that had been reunited with its owner four years after running away. The dog turned up thanks to an embedded tracker in its ear. Instinctively, Jane pushed her hair behind her own ears, wondering if she should consider herself lucky that she didn’t have a chip of herself so people could locate her. She picked at the muffin Meg had given her but couldn’t taste it. Her mouth had suddenly gone very dry and some kind of sticky film coated her tongue. With her luck she’d probably picked up a rare fungus at the farm stand and now had mouth scabies. Finally she was ready to speak. “‘Or worse’?” she asked, repeating the reporter’s words. “What exactly is she implying?”
“That’s ridiculous! It’s irresponsible journalism!” Meg said, placing her hand protectively on Jane’s leg. “So what if no one has seen you? Maybe you went to visit your parents in Florida, or your brother out west! Maybe you’re holed up in your apartment! Maybe you went to visit a friend in Montauk!”
“‘Or worse’ makes for a better news story. What difference does it make? No one cares if I’m dead or alive anyway,” Jane said, a dull pain beginning to throb inside her skull. She’d been having such a nice day, and now it was ruined. She should’ve just sat at the house and drank like she’d originally planned. Maybe if she were buzzed, this latest broadcast wouldn’t hurt as much. “All they care about is that they lost the chance to shoot the long-suffering spouse sitting in the courtroom while her husband pled not guilty. Supposing I’m dead keeps people from turning the channel. God forbid I decide I’m tired of pretending to care what happens to him anymore. I want my own f*cking life back.”
“What are you going to do?” Cara asked. She picked up the remote control and turned off the TV. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like they could unwatch the news just because the TV was off. If there were a way to rewind life and do it all over, she’d have known about it and done it by now. Many, many times.
“Order a tombstone? Buy a casket? Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t have a plot. I was supposed to be buried next to Doug, but lying next to him for all eternity seems a bit awkward considering he’s the reason I’m dead. I mean, what would we talk about, you know?”