“Sure. But can you bring it round now? I have weekend breakfast-in-bed plans with Marco.”
So I can’t stay there, either. Obviously.
So what’s going on? Everyone but me suddenly has weekend-breakfast-in-bed plans? I feel left out. Why don’t
I
have an overnight date?
Katy and Tom are still in Florida, so that’s good. But they didn’t leave a spare key, so I can’t even squat at their place. Plus Sylvester’s mom is visiting, so their spare room is also out of the question. It seems pathetic to call Dad and ask him and Peri if I can stay with them. They’ll only worry, and maybe they’ll force me to move back in with them permanently. Then there’s the terrible twins…
On the bright side, Dad ordered new car keys for me, so at least I have my car back. He and Uncle Derek drove down last weekend, because Dad insisted that I shouldn’t be put to any trouble, seeing as it was the twins who caused the problem in the first place. I think he just wanted to get out of the house and away from the twins for a while. And Uncle Derek only mentioned breast implants once. Which is good, for him.
I wonder if the backseat of my car is comfortable? I mean, lots of people sleep in their cars, don’t they? And if I hunker down, no one will be able to see me, will they? I’m parked half a block from Tish’s apartment, and it’s a nice part of Hoboken, so it’s not like anything could happen, could it?
I
could
check into a hotel, but the whole point of not doing that is so that I can save money. I
have
to save money—I can’t stay with Tish much longer. I’ve got eight hundred dollars in my savings account. So once I save approximately double that, and trade in my car, I should be able to afford to move into a really dreadful, cramped apartment.
The thought of living in any of the apartments I’ve seen is depressing, so I abandon my weight training and take a leisurely sauna and shower. Actually, I think my muscles are getting bigger. I’m sure I’ve got more definition. I check my watch again. It’s still only 9:15
P
.
M
.
I decide to retreat to the juice bar to while away more time. It is nearly empty. Obviously, everyone else has something better to do on Friday night. Apart from me. I think the gym closes at eleven.
Just as I am drinking my second carrot juice and wondering how much more of it I can stomach, someone sits at my table.
“No hot date tonight?” Jack asks me.
His hair is still damp from the shower. He’s wearing shabby old jeans and a faded white T-shirt. His biceps gleam healthily, and so do his teeth as he smiles at me.
“No,” I tell him, stirring my carrot juice. “You?”
“No. Didn’t finish work until eight thirty—too late to set something up. Mind if I join you?”
Oh, so he’s alone through
choice
then. This does not make me feel better. This makes me feel even more belligerent toward the whole world in general, so my reply is not very friendly.
“It’s a bit late to ask, isn’t it? Seeing as you’ve already got your feet under the table.”
“Okay. I’ll leave.” He scrapes back his chair and I panic. It’s only Jack, but at least he’s human and breathing. Someone to talk to. Someone with whom to while away the lonely hours before bedtime.
“No. No, it’s fine. Stay if you want to.”
“Gee, thanks,” he says, rather dryly. “Try not to be too enthusiastic.” But he sits back down, so he can’t be that pissed with me.
For a couple of minutes we drink our liquidated vegetables.
“So how come you’re not out on the town?” he asks.
It sounds like a challenge. It sounds like, “So what’s wrong with you? No one like you enough to ask you for a date?”
“Didn’t feel like it,” I lie. “Work’s hell at the moment.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Well, good,” I say. “I’m glad we got that sorted out. We’re
both young, attractive, educated people who prefer to spend our Friday night without Friday-night dates.”
And when he looks at me in that who-are-we-kidding-here way, I can’t help but smile, and then he’s smiling back at me.
“You didn’t get asked, did you?” he says.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
We grin at each other in a conspiratorial kind of way.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“Only veggies,” I say, pointing at my drink. “Very nutritious.”
“I hate eating alone. You want to come eat with me? You look kinda hungry.”
“What? You mean like a date? You must be desperate.”
“Desperate for sustenance. This is a nondate. Just two hungry people. You look like you need to eat.”
“Gee, thanks.”
A nondate?
Well, it’s better than sitting here alone, isn’t it? “For your information, I’ve put on three pounds this week,” I tell him.
“Well, see? You gotta keep up the good work. Come on. I know this great Thai place. You like Thai food?”
“You’ve only been back in Hoboken for a month and you already know the great places to eat?”
“Hey, man cannot live by love alone, you know.”
“Please don’t feel you have to share those details with me.” I giggle.
Surprisingly, I have a really good time on my nondate with Jack. I think it’s liberating to have dinner with someone you don’t like and who doesn’t like you. You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not to impress him, and you don’t have to worry about saying anything to hurt him. I’m dying to ask about his ex-fiancée though, but think that may be going a little too far.
“So let me get this straight,” Jack says, as he devours another bite of spicy chicken. “Adam is your ex-boyfriend and he’s also your boss? Jesus, that’s not good. Not good at all.”
“Yeah. I know, I know,” I say, waving my hands. “Don’t give me the lecture. I already had it from Rachel.”
“Nope. No lecture. You want any more of this noodle?”
“I can’t,” I say holding my hand to my throat. “Too full.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. This is great. I told you this place is great, didn’t I?” Jack says, finishing it off in two mouthfuls. And then, “I dated my boss once.”
He did?
“You did?” Wonder if I should ask him what happened. Would that be too nosy? “What happened?”
“Oh, same old, same old.”
Obviously he doesn’t want to talk about it, so I won’t push. I’m not that interested, anyway.
“We got engaged. Then she met someone else.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “That’s terrible.”
Interesting. It explains a lot about Jack.
“It happens. I was too young to get married, anyway. At least she left me before the wedding. She did me a favor. Can you pass me the shrimp?”
And although I want to hear the whole story, Jack obviously doesn’t want to tell it, and we chat about stupid stuff. After he’s vacuumed the rest of the food from the dishes, we realize that the restaurant staff are anxiously hovering because it is now 11:30 and they want to close up.
Jack insists on paying for the food, and since it is only twenty-five dollars for the two of us, I let him. It’s when he insists on walking me home that I balk.
“It’s a few blocks—it’s out of your way—I do it all the time.” I hedge.
“Yeah, but I need to know you’re safe. Your dad would kill me if anything happened to you after you’d been out with me.”
Oh, so he’s worried about my dad. Not about me, then. How can I get rid of him?
“But you live in the opposite direction,” I say.
“Come on,” he says, and I know that it is pointless to protest. Besides, if I protest too much, he’ll smell a rat.
What do I do when we get to Tish’s? I can’t tell him I’m sleeping in my car. How pathetic does that sound?
Oh, here we are already, outside Tish’s!
And the living-room light is on, which means Tish and Julio are up there. Which means I can’t let myself in, then cunningly slip out once Jack’s gone.
“Actually, I feel like a drive,” I tell him, as I hesitate, key in hand. “You know what? That’s just what I’m gonna do. Go for a drive.”
“At this time of night? Are you serious?”
“Yes. I like driving at nighttime. By myself. On the turnpike. I’m helping my friend Katy with her MADD campaign.” I open the car door and climb in.
“
You’re
mad,” he says, shaking his head.
“Can I give you a ride home?” This would be a cunning way to get rid of him.
“No, I like to walk,” he says, obviously perplexed.
I have now confirmed his earlier suspicions that I am a crazy, deranged woman. But this is better than him thinking I am a pathetic sleeping-in-a-car person.
“So, thanks for the nondate,” I tell him. “You were right—the food was great.”
“You’re welcome. Good-night, then.”
But after I close the door, he’s still waiting on the sidewalk. Oh, God, he’s waiting for me to leave. I’ll have to drive around the block a few times until he’s gone. But if I do that, maybe someone will take this parking space. But what else can I do?
Engine on, lights on, he’s still there. I wave, smile, and pull out. Once around the block should do it. I go around three blocks, just to make sure.
Five minutes later there’s no sign of Jack. And my space is thankfully empty, so after five attempts, I manage to reverse back into it without bending any fenders. I get out of the front, after checking there’s no one around, then climb into the back. I lock the doors and try to get comfy.
I’m glad I had the foresight to throw a comforter and cushion in here. I hope no one can see me. I cringe as I hear a crowd of Friday night revelers pass on the other side of the street.
I’m fine. It’s okay.
This is actually quite comfortable.
Five minutes later, just as I am imagining all kinds of dreadful scenarios and generally working myself up into a bundle of nerves, I nearly die on the spot when someone knocks on the window.
Oh God. What do I do now?
I pull the comforter over my head and pretend to be a pile of old clothes. But then they knock again. I’ll just have to leap into the front seat and make a dash for it. I brace myself and throw back the comforter.
It’s Jack.
Oh God. And he’s knocking again. I open the window just a little. He doesn’t look very happy.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Taking a nap,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. I feel so stupid.
“I thought you were going for a drive.”
“I was, but then I got tired and decided to take a nap first.” Okay, so that sounds lame.
He runs a hand through his hair, and sighs.
“What’s going on, Emma?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just go home. I’m good.”
“You’re
crazy.
You were going to spend the night in your car, weren’t you? How come you can’t go into your apartment?”
It’s obvious he’s not going anywhere until I give him an explanation.
“Look, Tish has a guy in there. They’re having a romantic weekend, and they don’t need an unromantic third wheel in the living room, and the walls are really thin. Okay?”
“Don’t you have other friends you can stay with?”
“Of course. I have plenty of friends.
Plenty.
They’re just…all busy.”
“Give me your keys. Come on, give,” he says, as he pushes his hand through the window.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll go check into a hotel right now.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“That’s your problem.”
He doesn’t say a word, but pulls out his cell phone and starts punching numbers.
“Who are you calling?”
“Peri.”
Oh God, not Peri. I will never hear the last of it.
“Okay,” I say, handing him my car keys. “You win.”
TO DO
Saturday night
Jack’s house is lovely!
When I say lovely, I mean it has great potential. At the moment it mostly resembles a building site, because two of the second-floor bedrooms are undergoing floor restoration and are sealed off with thick plastic sheeting. Strange machines and toolboxes lurk in corners. The master bedroom, Jack’s room, is next on the list, but he says he has to wait awhile until he’s saved more cash. But even in its unrestored state, it’s beautiful. He has so much light and space! He has
three whole floors
to himself.
He’s put me in the huge attic room, which is great, because apart from the fact it is so spacious and light, it has an en suite bathroom—or at least it will once the shower’s been installed. But there
is
a toilet and basin, so at least I can pee
and brush my teeth in peace. And there’s an air-conditioning unit.
Bliss.
I’d forgotten what it was like to have space.
It’s so great to be on my own.
By myself.
No one to disturb my solitude.
I wonder who I can call?
Hmm…Tish and Rachel are possibly (depending on how last night went) entertaining Julio and Marco. (Though obviously, not all in the same bed. At least I hope not. Marco’s friends were very odd.) Sylvester and David—nope, no time to chat—the restaurant’s probably heaving. I’ll see them tomorrow night, anyway…I hope Katy and Tom are having a good time in Disneyland.
I’ll just have another walk around the house, but obviously will avoid the master bedroom—I don’t want to invade Jack’s privacy. Maybe I’ll just peek around the door…My God, the size of his bed! No, I’m not even going there. Do not even
think
about it.
Jack doesn’t have much furniture yet (apart from beds)—it makes sense to wait until the renovations are completed before filling the rooms. But the living room is finished. The floor is a beautiful rich cherry brown, and although the walls and drapes are cream, it’s not cold in the way of Adam’s apartment. Jack believes in color and texture. Lovely green sofa and chairs, with russet and yellow cushions. The central rug is pale-green-and-white check. I can just picture the color and light that will fill the rest of the house…
Jack’s got a date tonight. But he told me to make myself at home, so I am. I’m currently making myself
very
comfortable on the squishy sofa. I’m wearing pajamas, I have grilled cheese sandwiches, and I’ve rented
The Wedding Planner
from Blockbuster. I love this movie. It’s a really
feel good
movie. Plus Matthew McConaughey is extremely hot. I wish he’d been around to save my Manolo Blahnik shoes…Wonder if
they’re fixable? I can’t quite bring myself to throw them away.
The only problem is that Jack’s house has totally ruined me for apartment hunting. I really have to explore more apartment opportunities. There must be
something
out there for me, surely? But the ones I saw today were no improvement on the previous batch, and all the time I was trying to be objective about small, grotty bedrooms, I couldn’t help but envision Jack’s attic.
Jack was very unamused last night after blackmailing me with Peri. He didn’t give me any lectures, but he barely spoke to me as he drove my Beetle to his garage. Typical man—I mean, I
do
know how to
drive.
It
is
my car. Still, he was okay this morning.
I thought I’d slip out of the house early and get breakfast at Rufus’s deli to cheer me up before checking out today’s list of apartments. But as I came down the stairs, the smell of bacon wafted up to greet me. And then Jack wafted to the kitchen doorway to greet me.
This is what happened.
“Hi. You sleep okay?” he says. “Come and have breakfast.”
Oh. Thank God he’s not pissed at me anymore.
“You sure there’s enough? I don’t want to steal your food,” I say, because my stomach is now growling and I
do
want to make peace with Jack.
“You kidding? You don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive. There’s coffee in the pot and mugs in the cupboard.”
“Thanks.”
“Here,” he says, as he pushes a huge plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast under my nose. “Eat.”
“This is way too much.”
“Knock yourself out. So where are you planning to stay tonight? You want me to check out the park for a bench? I hear the graveyard’s very popular—loads of benches and comfortable tombs there.”
“Don’t exaggerate. I would have been fine in my car.”
“Sure. I can just see the news headlines now,” he says, taking a bite from his toast. “I can’t believe you have
flowers
painted on that car. I can’t believe
I
drove that car. I’m sure glad it was dark—I’d never live it down if someone saw me driving that car. It’s so—so
girly.
”
“Well, I
am
a girl. I
love
that car.” Obviously, he has no taste.
“It’s okay to
love
the car. Just don’t
live
in the car. Do you know how stupid that was?”
“Yes,” I say, indignant, because he’s right. “Look.” I wave a fork of bacon at him. “I don’t poke my nose in your business, so you keep out of mine. I’m saving money, okay? Because if I don’t, I might be spending a lot more nights sleeping on that backseat, flowers or not.”
“I’m
so
not poking my nose in your business. We’re family. Interfering is compulsory. That bacon’s about to make a bid for freedom—I’d eat it quick if I were you.”
“You are
so
like Peri,” I tell him as I push the fork into my mouth.
There’s silence as we eat. But it’s not uncomfortable, because I’m not really pissed at him anymore. Before I realize, I’ve eaten three quarters of the food on my plate.
“You finished with that?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Pass it over.”
As Jack finishes my breakfast, I stack dishes in the dishwasher, because Jack cooked, so it’s only fair that I clean up, isn’t it?
“Okay,” I say, grabbing my purse. “I’ve got to hit the real-estate agents. Thanks for breakfast. And thanks for letting me stay.”
Wonder if I could stay tonight?
“Hey.” Jack follows me into the hall and dangles a bunch of keys in front of me. “I have a date tonight so you’ll need these to get back in,” he tells me with a wry smile. “See you later. Or maybe tomorrow morning.”
Whew.
How kind is that?
Wonder what it would be like if I lived here?
11:30
P
.
M
.
I wake up to the sound of voices, and for a moment I can’t remember where I am. Oh. Jack’s house. I meant to head up to bed before he got back, because I wanted to avoid a sticky I’ve-brought-a-date-home-for-the-night situation. But I’m too late. I jump off the sofa just as they head into the kitchen. Don’t want to cramp his style. I want him to realize how easy I am to live with. I’ve already disinfected the bathroom and cleaned the kitchen floor. Wonder if I can make it up the stairs without them noticing me?
I am just about to climb onto the first stair when they come out of the kitchen with drinks. The immaculate, well-stacked blonde stops in her tracks as she spots me, and raises a beautifully plucked eyebrow. I am self-consciously aware that not only am I wearing my oldest, ugliest pajamas, but my hair is sticking up, and I am not wearing a scrap of makeup.
This is
not
a good look for me.
I give her a huge grin.
“Hi,” I say brightly. “Don’t mind me. Just going to bed. In the attic. I won’t hear a thing. That is, I won’t hear a thing if you make any noise.” I shut up, before my tongue can get me into any more trouble.
“Jack, who is this?” she says, after giving me a thorough once-over.
“This is Emma. Emma, this is Laura,” he says, grinning wryly.
He’s very good at those wry grins. I wonder if he spends hours practicing them in front of the mirror for varying de
grees of wryness. He obviously thinks this is funny, but at least he’s not embarrassed or pissed off at me.
“Oh, nice to meet you, Laura,” I say, retreating up the stairs. “I’m Jack’s niece. Er, well, have a good time—I mean, a pleasant evening…”
I shut my mouth and flee before I can further embarrass myself by telling her to enjoy her night of hot, unbridled sex with Jack.
Sunday evening
I’ve packed what little I brought with me. My overnight bag, my comforter and cushion are all safely back in my car. All the dishes are neatly stacked in the dishwasher, and I’ve vacuumed the living-room rug. Okay. Time to go. Better go find Jack and tell him good-bye.
He’s working on some architectural plans in the dining room. Well, it will be a dining room once it’s finished and he puts a table and chairs in here. At the moment, he just has a desk and a computer.
“Er, sorry to disturb you,” I say from the door. “Thanks for, you know, everything. I’ll leave the keys in the kitchen, shall I?”
“Emma,” Jack says. Those glasses really suit him. He’s a bit Clark Kentish. Bit of a babe, actually. Not that I like him or anything.
“Hmm?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes?”
So have I. I really want to live here. I know Jack’s part of the package, but I can stay out of his way. He’s probably not here much, he’s probably out every night with a different woman.
“Peri has a point. About you moving in here.”
“Oh, no.” I laugh, waving my hand in front of my face. “Don’t give it another thought. You know what she’s like…”
Please ask again, please make me an offer I can’t refuse.
I can’t bear the thought of living in any of the terrible places I’ve seen.
“I could use the extra money—you know—toward the cost of refurbishing this place, and paying off the rest of the loan to your dad.”
“You don’t have to do this just because my dad lent you the money, you know. I’m sure I’ll find something…”
Convince me, convince me.
“You could live here just temporarily, until something else comes along. It’s gotta be better than the backseat of your car.”
Okay. So how long is “temporarily”? A month? Six months? A year?
“I figure it’ll take me another few months to fix this place up, then I’m going to put it on the market.”
If I owned this house I’d never sell it. It’s gorgeous.
“We’d be doing each other a favor,” he tells me. “I don’t want the hassle of a tenancy agreement, you need somewhere to stay. I could really use the extra cash.”
“But we don’t like each other,” I say. Then, “How much rent do you want?” I don’t want to sound
too
negative or disinterested, do I?
“Five hundred a month?”
“A thousand.” Yes, I know this is stupid of me, but I can’t cheat the man out of a fairer rent.
“Let’s split the difference.”
“But that’s not—”
“You’re gonna save me a fortune in housecleaning services, anyway, so let’s say seven fifty.”
Oh, he noticed that I cleaned. Good.
“So when do you want to move in?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Fine. Keep the keys.”
This is fabulous. I’m no longer homeless! Can’t wait to tell everyone my news.
“Hi everybody,” I trill, as I step through the door of Chez Nous. “Guess what? I’ve found a really great place to live…”
I close my mouth as all eyes descend on me. Tish, Rachel, Sylvester, David, and Sylvester’s mom, Hélène, are all looking at me like they just saw a ghost.
“What’s going on? Did something terrible happen?”
“Where the hell have you been?” demands Rachel, the first to reach me. She surprises me by hugging me fiercely, then just as abruptly lets me go. “We were going to call the cops and report you missing.”
“Thank God you’re safe.” Tish hugs me.
“Chérie,
you took years off our lives.” Sylvester kisses me. “Don’t do zis again.”
“Hon, we were about to get the Hudson dredged.” Now David kisses me. “But we figured we’d give you until tonight before we really panicked. You got lucky, didn’t you? You spent the weekend with a guy, I just
know
it. See everyone, I was right.”
“You give everyone
beeg
fright,” Hélène tells me, squashing me to her ample bosom and slipping into a stream of incomprehensible French.
“God, I never thought you’d all worry about me. It never occurred to me…”
I
love
my friends.
“Peri called yesterday afternoon to speak to you, so I gave her Rachel’s number,” Tish says. “And when she called Rachel’s, you weren’t there, either. And your car was gone. And then you weren’t
here
at Chez Nous, either.”
“Does Peri think I’m missing? Because I’d better call her—she’ll have the state police out en masse.”
“Relax,” Rachel tells me. “I told Peri you were out. She knows nothing. You
idiot.
Didn’t it occur to you that we’d worry? Why didn’t you tell either Tish or me that you had nowhere to stay? Why didn’t you call David or Sylvester? Nope, don’t answer,” she says, holding up a hand. “I already know why. Emma, stop being so—so fucking
nice.
It’s bad for
my nerves.” She takes a gulp of her wine. “We’re your
friends.
We’d have changed our plans.”
My friends are
so
wonderful.
“Oh God,” Rachel continues, slapping her forehead with her palm. “Please don’t tell me you slept in your car.
Do not
tell me that’s what you did. That
is
what you did, isn’t it?”
“Of course I didn’t sleep in my car,” I say, but I know that I’m blushing just a bit because my face is hot. “I stayed with Jack. In fact, I’m moving into his house tomorrow.”
There is an incredulous silence. I may as well have told them I’m moving to Venus.