Jane Doe(46)

I wait on the sidewalk and wonder what Luke wants from me.

It’s not like I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve been infatuated a couple of times, but I’ve never loved any of my boyfriends. Does that make sense? I feel happy with them, but I don’t trust. I don’t want to live with a man or give up control. Why would I? Men lie. They lie right to my face, and it’s not hard to spot. Do they think we don’t know?

Women lie too. Everyone does, and we all see the falsehoods; the question is, Which of us are willing to lose ourselves enough to give another person a chance? I can’t lose myself. I don’t have enough feelings to fuel the fantasy or ignore the warnings.

My last relationship was with a married Lebanese executive in Malaysia. His lies were childish and weak, designed to bring me close enough for sex but keep me at the perfect distance. You’re so amazing, Jane, but I can’t fall in love with you. I love my wife more than anyone in the world. She’s everything to me.

Ridiculous. He loved himself more than anyone in the world. But he turned me on like crazy, so I just smiled and pulled him back for more. He wouldn’t leave his comfortable life for me, and I didn’t want him to, so it worked nicely for a full year.

We never went to a zoo, though.

I lost interest in him after Meg died. I lost interest in everything.

He told me he loved me then. Finally. A last-ditch effort to get me back into his bed. I reminded him that he loved his wife. Maybe he does. The way other people love doesn’t make much sense to me.

Why get married if you want to sleep with other people? Why stay if you suspect he’s cheating and that hurts your feelings? Why fight and bicker and scream if the other person decides they’re ready to go? If someone wants to leave, the only thing to do is move on. Find someone else. Have some pride.

Then again, I can’t seem to follow my own advice with Meg. She wanted to leave and I still need her here, and I can’t let her go. Maybe I’m more like everyone else than I think. Or maybe they’re more like me.

Luke finally pulls up in his black Prius—no giant SUV for him—and I laugh to myself, because he really is better endowed than Steven.

That would make a good bumper sticker, actually. My other car is a big penis. My creative talents are wasted in law.

“Hey, there,” he says when I get in. The car smells like apples and cinnamon and I look around in confusion until he picks up a Styrofoam cup from the console. “I got us hot cider.”

“Oh. That’s so sweet.”

I take a sip and it’s the perfect temperature. I’m on some kind of all-American date.

We start the drive in companionable silence. At least, it’s companionable for me, but he could be uncomfortable. I watch for clues, but he seems relaxed.

“That was nice the other night,” he says after a long while. “Reading with you.”

“Oh!” I respond. “I got you a present!”

I grab a bag from my purse and open it to pull out a hardcover novel. “I saw it in the window of a bookstore, and he’s an author you had on your shelf, so I thought . . .”

“Wow, Jane!”

“It’s a signed copy.”

“That’s so nice! Thank you. And I don’t have this one yet.” He shifts his attention from the road to the book in quick little peeks to check out the cover. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Maybe not, but I used to buy Meg a lot of gifts. I’m never sure what else I’m contributing to a relationship. Practical advice for Meg. Sex for Luke. Heck, I would’ve given Meg sex too if she’d been interested. That’s about all I know to give. So I buy presents. Everyone likes presents.

“Thank you.” He squeezes my hand briefly and lets me go. “Is this music okay?”

“It’s great.” I don’t care about music. I couldn’t even really say what genre this is. Music is about emotion. It’s not for people like me.

When I start seeing signs for the zoo, I realize we’re way out near the Hepsworths’ church. I’m unconcerned, though. I can’t imagine I’ll run into them at the zoo after dark. In the unlikely event I see the good pastor or his wife, I’ll introduce Luke as my cousin. I’m certain he’d go along with it in front of strangers.

“I think I figured out that thing with my mom,” I say before I even know why I’m saying it. It hasn’t exactly been weighing on my mind, but I was reading through Meg’s old emails this morning and it came to me.

“Which thing?” Luke asks.

“Why I keep accepting her calls when I don’t even want to.”

“Oh?”

“It’s because it’s what Meg wanted. She got upset when I said I was going to cut my mom from my life and move on. So I kept my family in my life. Because Meg wanted me to.”

“Oh, Jane,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry you lost her. I know I said it before, but . . . even I can’t believe she’s gone, and I haven’t seen her in almost ten years.”

“Thank you.”

“So you keep in touch with your mother for Meg’s sake?”

“Yes. I think so.” But Meg is dead now.

He squeezes my hand again. “I sent flowers to her grave. Did you see them?”