Lost Along the Way(9)
Jane was ashamed to admit it, but back then she didn’t care. Her feelings were too hurt and she was too insecure about how her life was evolving in comparison to theirs to ever let them know that she was devastated by how their relationship was changing. She wasn’t strong enough to tell them how she really felt, and instead she got angry at them and cut them out of her life. She’d give anything to go back and do things differently.
Especially because they were right.
four
The phone rang again, forcing Jane to turn off both her current train of thought and also the ringer. Thank God she had a doorman to keep the photographers and reporters away, but she knew that the other tenants in the building wanted her to leave, and pretty soon they’d force her out. She couldn’t blame them. No one paid these prices for Manhattan real estate to have to push through a bunch of screaming idiots with cameras and press passes just to get to a Starbucks for their morning latte. Jane had never understood the whole reality TV craze, and now that she was forced to live inside a fishbowl she understood it even less. Why anyone would seek out this kind of attention and scrutiny was beyond her, and Doug’s story wasn’t even national news. It was bad enough being hunted by every network in the tristate area. If she had to worry about reporters from CNN or Dateline being on her ass too, she might actually go insane. She threw herself on her king-size bed, covered in Frette linens and layers of Ralph Lauren blankets, buried her face in her pillows, and screamed. Her beautiful apartment, only a block from Central Park West, was exactly what she’d always wanted, and now it was a prison. She felt like she was living in a dream, like she couldn’t figure out what was real and what had been entirely in her imagination. How could she fall in love with a criminal? How could she reconcile the fact that she loved Doug—and, if she was honest, even missed him—with the fact that he wasn’t who she thought he was? Any time she felt a wave of nostalgia or found herself wishing he were still at home in the apartment with her, she became so overcome with guilt that she actually hated herself. If she were a good person, she wouldn’t feel any love for him now that she knew the truth. If she did, then what did that say about her? How could she miss him and hate him at the same time? How could she hate him without hating herself for building a life with him?
Jane pulled herself together and wandered into the kitchen, knowing that the cure for her splitting headache wouldn’t be found in the bottom of a wine bottle but not caring at that particular moment one way or the other. She walked past her farmhouse sink, briefly ran her finger along the copper pots that hung from brass hooks above the center island, and removed a bottle of white wine from her refrigerator. She knew she was probably drinking more lately than she should’ve been, but it seemed justified. She fished the wine opener out of the drawer next to the stove and gently eased the cork from the bottle, the puckering sound it made once she set it free instantly easing her stress. She removed from a cabinet one of the crystal glasses she’d received as a wedding gift and briefly thought about smashing it against the wall. Instead, she decided to fill it to the brim.
Before she could take a sip, there was a knock at her door. Shit, she thought as she placed the glass down on her counter, then trudged into the foyer. She looked through the peephole and saw the stern, unpleasant face of her neighbor Mrs. Cooper peering back at her. Shit, she thought again. I shouldn’t have left my wine in the kitchen.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Mrs. Cooper said as Jane opened the door.
“I agree. So let’s stop meeting like this, and next time wait for an invitation before you come over, okay?” Jane said. Ordinarily she’d never be so rude to her neighbor, or anyone else for that matter, but these were not ordinary times.
“Jane, I feel bad for you, really I do,” the wrinkled crypt keeper said.
“Thank you for your condolences.” It was hard to believe that this entire nightmare had started only ten months ago. It felt more like ten years, and Jane was well aware that she was not going to be able to endure this new life much longer. She’d always thought of herself as strong, but now she had to admit that this was something she couldn’t handle alone.
“However, your circumstances are making everyone else’s living situations unbearable. I wish you’d stop being selfish and think about the other tenants in this building.” Mrs. Cooper had a silk scarf tied around her neck like an ascot. Jane briefly wondered if that meant she’d be able to choke her out without leaving prints.
“Selfish? You’re calling me selfish? I married a thief who stole people’s money, went to prison, and left me with basically nothing except a ruined reputation, a bunch of frozen bank accounts, and, now, agoraphobia. I have no friends left in this city, no cash in the bank, and nowhere to go, but you want to come over here and tell me that the press outside is an annoyance for you? You’re right. I must be the most selfish person alive.” Jane remained defiant. Although if this were happening to someone else, she’d probably be annoyed by the disruption as well.
“I’m calling an emergency board meeting tomorrow, and we are going to vote on having you evicted from the co-op.”
“You can’t do that. This apartment is the only thing I have left. Without it, I’ll be homeless.” In what was maybe the one smart decision her husband had made in his pathetic life, he’d placed the deed to the apartment in his father’s name. Legally, the government couldn’t touch it, which was the only reason they hadn’t sold it out from under her. But that didn’t mean the co-op board couldn’t evict her.