Chapter Two Curt #3
“Not at all. They’re action figures. Girls are just not into this shit, they don’t get it. I never let my girl in here.”
“Trista isn’t allowed here?”
Jane was expert at leading questions.
“No, she’s not my girl, she works for me. My girl is Julia.”
Jane tried not to flinch at his use of the possessive. Despite herself, she wondered what it would be like to be Curt’s girlfriend, to be his favorite female gadget?
“Oh, my mistake.... Okay, so what is your goal with this collection? We can edit, catalog...”
Curt shrugged. This was going to be like pulling teeth.
“What would you recommend if your boyfriend had a collection like this?” The tinge of challenge in his inflection was playful, a little sly.
“Honestly? I’d make him get rid of every single one.”
Curt was a uniquely taxing combination of arrogance and solicitousness. He’d looked poised to vomit when she said she’d purge the entire collection. But he had asked her for her honest opinion.
Ultimately, Curt decided the only figurines he would get rid of were duplicates, and there were quite a number of those, the end result of shopping on eBay while wasted.
Jane suggested arranging the remaining Transformers by color—the only way she could really distinguish them—but he bristled.
No, he would do it himself, according to the arcane rules of the Transformers world.
As Jane and Lindsey were ushered out the front gate by Trista, Jane felt a residual unease she couldn’t shake off.
Was Curt hitting on her? Did she want him to be?
Hmm. To her consternation, part of her did.
Not because she was attracted to him, but for validation.
But maybe she actually was attracted to him?
To his wealth, to his success, or maybe even to the sweet, guileless little boy she had caught glimpses of.
As she started her car, she mused about the role luck and chance had in finding a mate.
What if she had met Curt three years ago instead of Teddy?
Since she and Teddy had been together three years, and living together for over a year, it was inevitable that the idea of marriage loomed, yet they’d never discussed it.
When Jane mused about what a successful marriage could be like—a font of love, of understanding and security—simply considering this antiquated institution would make her blush.
As she navigated the twists and turns on Mulholland Drive, she caught glimpses of the city to her right and the Valley to her left.
It was a few days before the autumnal equinox, so there would still be over an hour of sunlight.
Summer was Jane’s least favorite season in LA; toward the end of it the whole city felt like it was dusty and chafed, suffering from sunstroke and heat exhaustion.
She rolled down the windows and inhaled the cloying scent of jasmine cut by the bracingly herbaceous smells of the scrub that blanketed the Santa Monica Mountains.
Maybe she was content. Maybe Teddy was permanent. Maybe her job was permanent. Maybe the path of her life was right in front of her, and all she had to do was follow it.
Or maybe she was following the path of least resistance, not the right path, or the best path, if there even was such a thing.
Maybe she was having a midlife crisis. Was thirty-two too early to have one?
Well, when life expectancy was around sixty for women, thirty was the actual midpoint.
But this was 2019. She could expect to live into her eighties or nineties.
She had plenty of time, so there was no point to indulging in a preemptory midlife crisis.
Exhausted when she got home, Jane put down her things and entered the kitchen where Teddy was preparing dinner.
This was when he was at his most appealing.
An enthusiastic if limited cook, his repertoire was mostly comfort foods and involved a fair amount of hacks.
Tonight, he was making spaghetti and meatballs with sauce from a jar and precooked meatballs from a vacuum-sealed pack he got at Trader Joe’s.
Still, she liked being cooked for, and he seemed to take real pleasure in caring for her.
Curt probably never cooked. He probably had a private chef.
“Hey, Teddy. Smells good.”
He was stirring the pasta on the stove. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed his neck.
He shuddered with appreciation. Jane breathed in all the smells: the hint of salt in the steam from the pasta water, the sweet tomato sauce, but mostly Teddy’s earthy musk with its faint note of cannabis. Oh, Teddy.
“Well, you know, no one makes Italian food better than the Irish.”
Teddy was proud of his Irish heritage, which was on his father’s side, but three generations back, so it was a bit of a reach. Still, Jane did have to concede she saw in Teddy lingering traces of malarkey and sentiment.
“How was your day?”
“Fine. Tiring. Lindsey talks and talks.... I like working with her, but it’s a lot sometimes. How about you?”
“Good, made a few trades, went to the gym, cooked you this delicious dinner....”
He dumped the pasta into a colander.
“Thanks. It’s exactly what I am in the mood for.”
And it was.
Jane lay in bed letting her mind unravel.
Teddy was already sound asleep beside her.
They’d had sex and Jane thought about how tactile and erotic she could be, how much she enjoyed sex, even if her mind never turned off completely, even if she felt like she was watching herself throughout.
Teddy was a very good lover—he got off on getting her off, which had been an afterthought, if a thought at all, for most of her previous boyfriends.
Sleeping, he looked so innocent and sweet. Maybe all love was a form of codependence. Humans were social organisms, so maybe it was baked into human nature?
Jane had brought home one of the Transformers figurines as a gift for Teddy.
The size of the pile of duplicates had been obscene.
Curt had tasked Trista with eBaying them, which obviously meant it would never happen.
Jane’s salvage was an act of kindness, for if a toy had no player, it lacked purpose.
Still, for some reason the idea of having it in their house had made her uneasy.
Instead, she’d ducked into the detached garage and placed it into the bin where she kept “Things I Decided Not to Give to Teddy.” There was a tie, a wallet, a watchband, a lighter.
And now a Transformer. The items were all hidden beneath her collection of Hermès scarves.
Maybe one day these objects would be released, given a second chance to delight and be useful.
But right now, they were exactly where Jane wanted them.