Chapter Eleven Maggie
Chapter Eleven
Maggie
T he next morning, as Jane sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and trying to generate enthusiasm for the coming day, she ruminated about Teddy. Their dinner was surprisingly easy and fun; they had parted with a warm hug, leaving Jane with a nagging uncertainty as to what to do next.
Christmas was almost upon them, and it was a grim time to be alone.
Jane and Teddy had decided to “be there for each other during the holidays.” It seemed like a safe middle ground: they weren’t getting back together but were agreeing to be together.
Simple enough, yet it felt complicated. She assumed they were both having similar misgivings about the possibility of lapsing back into a well-worn groove.
Because if they ever got back together, what would actually be different?
It needed to be different, didn’t it? But it was hard enough trying to change herself; she certainly couldn’t transform Teddy.
And she didn’t want a different person anyway—she wanted Teddy, just a slightly improved version of the same Teddy.
Her brain was tumbling down the stairs of an Escher hallway, and that’s when her phone rang.
The caller ID revealed it was her mother. Her mother was calling at eight in the morning? Maybe something was wrong....
“Hello.”
“Oh. Hi, Jane.” Why did her mother invariably sound slightly surprised when Jane answered her own phone?
“Hi, Mom. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’ll be quick. When you called yesterday and said you... you know... you loved me, I was, well, very distracted.” She paused to clear her throat and Jane waited. Was this some sort of apology? “I wanted to call you first thing this morning and say that... I love you, too.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“Okay, Jane, I have to get going. Have a good day, dear.”
“Thanks, you too, Mom.”
While not quite an effusive declaration of maternal love, it was something, and Jane got the message.
The effect of this exchange with her mother lingered. It wasn’t quite buoyancy, but she felt slightly unburdened, freeing her to attack the rest of her life with more vigor. Maybe not attack, that was too aggressive. Explore.
She needed to be open to new things, to new people.
Teddy was dating, so it was incumbent on her to do the same.
She was very attracted to Jake, and she needed to give that a chance.
For their second date, he’d suggested meeting at the La Brea Tar Pits.
Jane arrived early. It was a brisk, sunny December day, and she was admiring the hillocks around the paleontology museum, which were blanketed with bright green grass, when she spotted Jake walking toward her, a confident bounce in his step.
When they hugged, his hands lingered on her back in a way that made her tingly, and in the daylight, she could see the disarmingly sexy laugh lines around his eyes.
The Tar Pits and the County Museum of Art complex were populated with an eclectic mix of wide-eyed tourists, culture vultures, families with young children, and hipsters with expensive sneakers.
The art museum was about to tear down most of its buildings and break ground on a massive new structure, so the collection was jammed into temporary quarters, which they decided to check out.
When they reached the modern art galleries, Jake broke into a gleeful smirk, as if calling bullshit on all the paintings around him. Jane explained that this art was about seeing in new, novel ways. He listened intently, then motioned to a canvas of green circles superimposed over blue rectangles.
“I love that you get all that, Jane, it’s awesome, but I’ve never studied art so I’m a bit of a rube. I look at that painting and all I see is some dude who’s crawled up his own asshole.”
“Well, if that’s the case, a lot of people have been very impressed by what he found up in there, and many have paid millions for it.”
Jake chortled, provoking a stern look from the serious aesthete next to him who had been gazing rapturously at the painting. Jake waved an apology, then, in a soft voice, told Jane, “I prefer paintings that tell a story, more than the paintings you have to tell a story to, you know what I mean?”
“That you’re lazy?”
“Ha, got me there. But you know, it just starts to feel like religion, endowing objects with meanings that aren’t really there. Animism.”
Jane protested. “But that’s human nature—I see it every day at my job. People want the things that populate their lives to mean something.” She paused. “Don’t you?”
“Yeah, of course I do.”
The next day, Jane found Lindsey leaning against her car, busily texting, and noted that Lindsey had added a shock of purple to her wedge of bleached blond hair.
“Wow, you got here before me,” Jane marveled.
“I know, right? I am so on top of stuff now. It’s because of Jesús.”
Jesús, the Trader Joe’s employee and aspiring musician that Lindsey was dating, not the Savior whose birthday celebration was in full throttle right now.
Lindsey pronounced his name with a carefully calibrated Spanish accent that she clearly relished, and which actually sounded pretty authentic to Jane’s ear.
“He is, like, the best. I can never thank you enough for breaking the ice.”
“Well, it hasn’t been very long, so, you know, let’s see.” Even as Jane said this, she regretted it. Why was she such a killjoy?
“Yeah, true. I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”
“No, actually, Lindsey—go for it, get ahead of yourself. Better to be ahead of yourself than behind yourself, right?”
“Huh?”
“Just have fun!” Jane exhorted.
“Thanks, Jane! I know it’s been weird with Teddy and all, I didn’t mean to be insensitive in any way...”
“Not at all, Lindsey. I’m happy for you.”
Jane looked up at the house they were about to enter, a severe modernist structure, lots of slate and glass.
“Shall we see what we’re in for today?”
“Yes! I’m ready for anything!”
Maggie, a careworn woman in her fifties, ushered them in.
She was a professional event planner who worked mostly from home and was really, really busy.
Her best friend had given her a day of organizing as a birthday present in June, and she had scheduled it a few times, but kept having to cancel because of the demands of her work.
Now it was December, and her friend had insisted that Maggie get it done this year.
She’d wanted to do some organizing herself first, but could never find the time, so—even though she wasn’t ready—she’d booked them to placate her friend.
A reluctant client was never auspicious.
Maggie’s house, decorated with stark modern furniture, had the feeling of a big office.
There were piles of papers and files everywhere—even in the primary bedroom, where, oddly enough, there wasn’t even a bed, only an expansive glass desk laden with more towering stacks of papers and files.
Maggie insisted that even though it might look like a mess, she knew exactly where everything was.
Jane and Lindsey furtively exchanged a worried look. At least Jane would not have to hear Lindsey cooing how cute everything was all day.
“My bedroom has the best view,” Maggie informed them. “I put my desk in here, since I’m always working and it’s nice to max out the view.”
It did in fact have a beautiful canyon view.
“Yeah, it’s gorgeous! What a perfect place to work!” Lindsey gushed.
“So then, where is your bedroom?” Jane wondered aloud.
“I don’t really have one. I sleep in the living room—I like to pass out on the couch at the end of the day, so why bother moving stuff into another bedroom?”
“I feel that,” Lindsey said supportively.
“I don’t want to take one of my kids’ bedrooms—they’re grown and don’t live here, but they like to have their space, and I like having space for them.”
Maggie punctuated this with a rueful laugh, something she did after almost every sentence she spoke.
Was it nervousness or exhaustion? She was probably once a very attractive woman, but she clearly wasn’t big on self-care.
She had dark circles under her eyes and unkempt hair that looked like a manifestation of a pattern of masochistic self-denial. What was she punishing herself for?
“So, Maggie, what can we do to help you?” Jane asked.
“Well, Jane... I have so much work, I’m planning different events all the time, and some are over a year out—weddings, bar mitzvahs, anniversary parties, graduation parties, divorce parties.
.. and of course, this time of year, Christmas parties.
So it’s a lot of stuff. I really should turn down some of these jobs, but, well, I have a lot of expenses, so. ..”
“You need a shoulder massage!” Lindsey blurted.
“That’s sweet. You know how brides get—and now grooms, too—and then gay weddings with two grooms or two brides are a whole other thing....” Again, Maggie emitted the rueful laugh.
“What a fun job! You get to go to parties all the time!” Lindsey enthused.
“Oh, I’ve never really liked parties. I’m there to work, not play. It’s actually pretty stressful.”
Jane could not imagine a less festive party planner, but Maggie seemed like a detail-oriented perfectionist, so she was probably quite good at it.
“It seems to me,” Jane spoke softly, “you might want to consider moving the office stuff out of your bedroom and making a nice office space somewhere else in this house.”
“No, I like it there,” Maggie replied with absolute certainty.
Jane let it go. There was no point in pushing.
“Okay, then, maybe we try to store most of your files in a closet or cabinet. Do you really need all these files out?”
“Well... jobs that I have finished with, I guess I could put the files away... but then, I do refer to them for current jobs, so I wouldn’t want them anywhere not easily accessible—”
Maggie’s phone started ringing.
“I have to get this—please look around and see what you can do.”