The Book of Jane (20 page)

Chapter 23

I
knock
on Coates's door. I hear the peephole cover slide away and smile at him. A long moment passes and then I hear it slide back in place.

“I know you're in there. C'mon. Please open up. We need to talk.” Another moment passes. I'm prepared for this. I suspected I wasn't going to be able to just waltz back into his apartment after he had been refusing my calls for the past few days.

“Coates, you were right,” I say.

I hear the dead bolt unlock, and then footsteps as he walks away. Okay, I guess I can just let myself in. I open the door and look around. I see that Judy Garland is still in her spot, looking as garish as ever. Coates is sitting on his couch looking tired. I walk over there slowly, dreading this conversation. I never know how to begin these things. I sit down next to him, and he slides over to get away from me but cloaks it as a polite gesture to make room for me.

I sigh. How do I start? “Look, that night, I—”

“I shouldn't have gone. I felt so bad for even being there. But my heart was telling me that you would be there. I shouldn't have. I know it was a violation of trust, but I needed to go. I had seen the flyer in the bookstore a week earlier. I was obsessing over it that night so I thought, I'll go. It won't matter because Jane won't be there. And even if she is…” His voice fails, and I see a flash of what Coates must have seen as he came into the bar: Ty and me holding hands.

“Coates, I was trying to tell him it wasn't going to work. I told him to stop trying, that we had been lying to ourselves. We were over.”

“How can I even trust you, Jane? How am I supposed to know what to think anymore? I come to your ex-boyfriend's reading and there you are in a dark corner holding his hand.”

“Look, it's not what you were thinking. He had just grabbed it. It just looked bad. I decided to stay afterward to get some closure, make sure he knew that I had moved on, and then you appeared, I saw you, and I just knew all the more that you were what I wanted. You were who I need to be—”

“Why did you even go?”

I shrug. He rolls his eyes.

“Did he ask you to be there?”

I shake my head.

“Did he contact you at all beyond a mass group e-mail?”

I watch him. He turns away.

“Did you go because, deep down, you had some doubts about letting him get away?”

“No,” I say quietly. “That's not why I went.”

My phone rings in my purse, and I reach my hand in and silence it without looking at it.

“Then why did you go?”

Coates is looking at the floor. Should I slide over closer to him and put my arm around him? Should I just give him space? We sit in silence for a minute or two.

“I don't know.”

My phone rings again, and I silence it again, then toss it back in my purse. It's probably my mom. Why doesn't she just leave a message? I need to tell her to stop doing this.

Coates takes a deep breath. “Jane, I think I need some time to consider it. I want to believe you, and I think I do, but you need to see how it looked to me.” I look at him and nod.

My phone bleats out again. “I'm so sorry,” I say. “My mom.” I open the purse and pull it out. The screen flashes
Tyson
and I freeze. I can hear my heart thump-thump-thumping. Not now. This can't be happening. Why is he calling?

Coates stares at my phone as though I'm cuddling a snake. “I honestly can't believe you, Jane,” he says. Coates tears across his room for a coat, marches to his door, and slams it on his way out. The phone continues to ring in my hand as I stare at it in horror. I silence it again.

I sit on Coates's couch for a while, praying that he will come back. Thirty minutes later, I realize that I'm kidding myself. I pick up my things to go and dial up my voicemail.

“Jane. Hey. It's Ty. I don't know why I'm calling you really, but I just got back to Denver, and it looks like my apartment was ransacked while I was gone. My stuff is everywhere, and my computer is gone, and, well, you always know what to do.” He pauses. “I didn't know who else to call.”

“Jane
Williams?”

“Who is this?” The caller ID lists the number as Unknown.

“Nina. Nina Federici.” I don't know if it's the loud music on her end or my tear-soaked brain, but it takes me a minute to place the name. “Matt Sherwin's assistant.”

Why would Nina of the illicit affair be calling me?

“Did you have something to do with this?” she asks without preamble.

“With what?” I ask, confused. I am lying on a lounge chair on my roof deck in an ankle-length down coat, wrapped in a fleece blanket. I wanted some air.

“It was supposed to be Greece!” She shouts into the phone. “Ancient Greece! Graceful white columns. Hot waiters in togas. The full pantheon of gods. Zeus was supposed to give the toast!”

“What?”

“It was supposed to be elegant and classic. We're asking these people for money, for crying out loud,” she hisses.

“Nina, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about,” I say, pushing myself up into a sitting position.

“The kickoff party for the Strike Hunger Campaign,” she says, her voice heavy with contempt for my ignorance.

“Nina, as you know, I no longer work for Glassman and Company,” I say, sighing.

“That imbecile Natalie who took over for you is nowhere to be found,” she screams into the phone, as if it's somehow my fault.

“What's wrong with the party, Nina?” Despite my disgust for Nina, I still care about World Aid and what they're trying to accomplish. Maybe this is my chance to redeem myself to them.

“Jukeboxes!” she screams. “Leather jackets and poodle skirts. There's a John Travolta look-alike dancing lasciviously and a group of girls walking around in pink satin jackets handing out cigarettes!”

“They organized a
Grease
party?” I can't stifle my laughter.

“We have all the Hollywood A-listers drinking milk shakes and listening to
Summer Lovin'
,” she says, practically spitting. “Reese Witherspoon is wearing saddle shoes. This is awful.”

“How's Matt holding up?”

“Right now he's wearing a jacket that says Rydell High and is jumping all over the car with flames painted on the side.”

“Sounds like he's having a blast,” I laugh. “So why are you calling me?”

“Because I need you to fix it,” she says, professionalism trumping her obvious dislike for me. “You still have all the right contacts. You can get it straightened out.” She pauses. “You will be compensated, of course.”

“Nina, I can't.”

“Ohmygosh. You're so petty. This is about him, isn't it? You're not going to do this because of that tawdry little affair? Please.”

“Nina, that's not why I can't help. It's just that I—”

“I'm through with him, if you must know. I ditched him. He's so over, anyways. I'm dating a Baldwin now. They're coming back, in case you haven't heard.”

I smile, both relieved that she and Matt are over and amused at the thought that the Baldwin brothers, any of them, are coming back.

“So help me, Jane. Do something!”

“Nina, just go with it.”

“What?”

“Go with it. I could call some people and have Greek gods at your party in half an hour,” I say, taking a deep breath. “But if they're having fun, why?”

“Eeekk!” she screams. “Gwyneth Paltrow is doing the hand motions to ‘Greased Lightning,'” she whispers into the phone.

“Is she smiling?” I try to picture the amazing scene Nina is witnessing right now. Some people have all the luck.

“Yes,” she says.

“Enjoy the party, Nina,” I say, pushing the Call End button with satisfaction.

I arrive
at Lenox Hill Hospital in a suit and heels. So much for seven weeks of bed rest. I got Raquel's call that she was going into labor again just as I was leaving my second interview for the job at the Y. The director of the Y had been out of town, so they had delayed doing the second round of interviews. I am one of three final candidates, which was a huge shock to me. Luckily, my cabbie is good, and I arrive at the hospital in fifteen minutes flat.

“Hi. I'm Jane Williams,” I say to one of the women behind the long desk. “I'm here for Raquel Hardaway. She's in labor.”

The nurse looks up and smiles. “Right this way. We'll need to get you scrubbed in immediately. She's not taking her time with this.” The nurse eyes my outfit.

“I was called out of a meeting,” I say, shrugging. “But why do I need to scrub in? I was just going to say hi and give her a good-luck hug.”

“You said Jane Williams, right?” she asks, looking down at a clipboard. I nod. “I have your name right here as one of the ‘coaches' during delivery.”

I laugh. “I'm sure that's a mistake. She's very private. This is her third child, and for the other two, I just waited out here.”

The nurse looks down again at her clipboard. “No. Your name is clearly stated right here with the doula's name.”

I laugh again. “Aha! That proves it. She doesn't have a doula. I'm her best friend, and I'd know.” The nurse cocks her head at me. “Wait. What's a doula?”

“A doula is a quiet, nonjudgmental presence in the delivery room.”

“A what?”

“A kind of friend and coach,” she says. “Can I see your ID? Perhaps you're right that there's been a mistake.”

Great. Now the nurse thinks I don't even know Raquel. And what is this business about a doula and wanting me in the delivery room? Raquel is adamantly against that sort of stuff. I hand the nurse my ID. “Please let me go see Raquel right now.” What if they've got her drugged and are making her agree to weird stuff? I have to be there for her.

“Then that brings us back to the beginning of our conversation. Let's go get you scrubbed in.”

I sigh. “Okay, lead the way.”

I walk
into the delivery room and see Raquel, along with Jack and a strange, stout, stern-looking woman whom I assume must be a doula. So much for nonjudgmental. I run over to Raquel in my new seafoam-green scrubs and footies. “Raquel! I'm so excited!” I say.

“Shhhh,” the stern woman says. “Please stay calm.”

I look at Raquel to make the crazy person signal, but she just laughs. “Jane, this is Dolores, our doula.”

I turn to her and extend my hand. “Dolores the doula. Nice to meet you-la,” I say, laughing.

Dolores doesn't break a smile and stares at my hand. “I'm sterilized so I can't shake your hand.” I nod at her, stifling a laugh.

Jack and I exchange greetings, and I notice that for the first time ever, he looks a little terrified, maybe even a little smaller.

“I'm going to get you some more cool water,” Dolores says and marches out of the room. I see this as my chance.

“Raquel? What on earth is going on?”

She looks at me, and then recognition registers across her face. “Oh. I forgot to tell you. It all happened so fast. And of course we thought we'd have a few more weeks to prepare you.” She turns to her side and smiles at Jack. “But this one isn't waiting for anything. We decided late last week that we'd like to try to have this one
au naturel
.”

I look at Jack, but he's staring with adoration at Raquel. “Raquel, um, are you sure you've thought this through?”

She looks at me funny. “Of course I'm sure.”

“One word for you,” I say, putting my hand on my hip. “Highlights.”

“What?” she says.

“Okay, more words for you.” I take a deep breath. “Highlights, manicures, Brazilian bikini waxes, laser hair removal, eyelash extensions, teeth whitening—”

Raquel starts laughing so I stop. “I know I'm not exactly the crunchy, organic, have-your-baby-in-a-bathtub kind of person. Maybe it was sheer boredom that drove me to it. But I don't know. I just want to try it. This is probably going to be my last one, Jane.” She winces as a contraction racks her body. Jack grabs her hand, and she squeezes, a look of determination on her face.

“Okay, just one last question for you,” I say as the pains pass and she relaxes back against the pillows. “I'm here because?”

“If I do this,” she gives me a thumbs up, “you have to tackle Dolores and go find a doctor to give me enough drugs to keep me under for the first year of the baby's life.”

I slip
in and steal a peek at Robinson Hardaway, the new addition to the Hardaway clan. Raquel is now in a private room and her perfect little baby boy gets to sleep in his own little bassinet next to her. Raquel has been asleep for hours, worn out from her successful natural childbirth, and Jack left an hour ago to get Haven and Olivia from their neighbor's place and take them home. I promised to stay a while with Raquel and the baby. I go over to the little hand sanitizer station and clean my hands and then walk back to Robinson, sleeping so peacefully. I put my pinky finger near his hand, and he grabs it without waking. My heart soars.