Chapter 22
James
My parents listen to my minimalist explanation of Jane and my split and go straight into denial.
My mom tells me that, if she had a dollar for every time she and my dad hit a rough patch, she’d be a wealthy woman, and my dad grunts in the background and says something that sounds like “I’d never leave her, even if she does drive me up the wall.
” My mom tells me that Jane and I have been together so long that it must all be fixable, and I don’t have the heart to tell her that Jane has already found someone else.
When I come off the phone, I want to punch a hole in the wall.
By the time Friday rolls around, I’m dreading the whole weekend.
My parents message me to say they’re on the road from Philly, and they park outside the city, then catch a train into Penn Station, because my dad can’t bear the cost of parking in Manhattan.
I take the subway uptown to meet them, and I spot my mom’s dark curls and flowery dress first, then behind her are my dad’s glasses, thinning hair, and white shirt tucked into smart pants.
He always comes to New York looking like he’s attending a business meeting: “In case I meet anyone important, Jim.” When they get through the barrier, my mom pulls me into a warm hug as my dad gives me a chin lift.
“How are you doing?” my mom says into my ear as her arms tighten around me.
My dad’s eyes are sympathetic over her shoulder. “Oh, okay. You know.”
My dad makes a face, but what can I say?
I can’t find it in me to explain everything that’s gone on since they were here last. And the jumping-off-a-roof thing .
.. that’s not stuff you ever admit to your parents.
The long view down and the small cars shimmer in my head.
My mom leans back and frowns, smoothing her thumb over the red mark just under my eye.
“What happened to your face?”
“Oh, I tripped on some steps.” I want to groan out loud. Snowballing lies. Before I split up with Jane, I was never the guy who made up shit like this.
“Ouch,” my mom says at the same time that my dad says, “Were you drunk, son?” and chuckles.
I laugh. Yeah, that and a few times since. “I was a bit tipsy, yes,” I say, and he nods like he gets it. If only he knew.
When we get back to the apartment, Sadie answers the door, and I realize that in all my worry about telling them about Jane, I forgot to tell them about Sadie. My parents stare at her.
“Mom, Dad, this is Sadie,” I say. “She’s a developer who joined Williams Security about five months ago and is renting Des’s spare room.”
“Just temporarily,” Sadie adds, with a wince.
“Well, you didn’t tell us you had a roommate, James!” my mom exclaims, scanning down Sadie’s long cardigan and big slippers. My dad glances from Sadie to me and back again, and purses his lips.
I wave them into the apartment. “Would you guys like a coffee, or something stronger?”
“A coffee would be great,” my mom says.
Mr. Karen appears from my bedroom, where he’s taken a liking to burrowing under my comforter.
He stretches out his body and then sits on his furry little bottom and stares up at my mom, blinking sleepily.
He might not have many brain cells or spatial awareness, but I suspect he’s probably a genius at detecting a soft touch.
“Oh! You didn’t tell us you had a cat, James!” my mom exclaims.
“He’s on loan from the shelter.”
“On loan! How can a cutie like you be on loan, eh?” my mom says, clucking as she bends down and scratches Mr. K under the chin, and he starts purring as she coos at him.
“I’ve got a friend in Philly who does this,” she says.
“She takes them in for a month or so. Of course, she ends up keeping them all. She’s got five cats now, and she told the rescue to stop sending them to her.
But I said, ‘Why would they do that, Jean? It’s obviously working sending them to you. ’”
Does everyone know about this cat shelter thing except me? And wouldn’t that be the perfect revenge, to carry on accepting cats and leave them for Des when he comes back?
“It’s very kind of her to keep them, but this one’s definitely going back; he’s a liability.”
“Oh, James, how can you say that? Look at him.”
We both stare down at where Mr. Karen’s big green eyes are fixed on my mom.
“Perhaps you’d like to take him back to Philadelphia.
He’s looking for a good home, and I can see he’s detected someone with a house and a generously sized yard,” I say, but a pang runs through my chest. I’ve got used to having Mr. K around, despite the weird behavior and the swimming.
He’s been gazing forlornly at the bath in Sadie’s bathroom ever since he had that little adventure.
I’ve also found him sitting in the tub by himself, staring down the drain, like he can’t understand why there’s no water in this miraculous thing.
I guess it’s like finding an empty indoor pool.
My mom ignores this and goes down on her haunches. “What’s he called?”
“Mr. Karen,” I say.
“That’s a funny name for a cat.”
My eye catches Sadie’s, and her lips curl up. It makes my breath catch. I can’t explain the rationale for that to my mom, now can I? “He’s a swimmer,” I say instead.
She frowns up at me. “A swimmer?”
“He likes to get into the bathwater and swim around.”
“No, he doesn’t, James. Stop pulling my leg.” She scratches his chin, and he headbutts her knee. “Oh, he’s a sweetheart.”
“Uh-oh,” my dad says, coming to stand by her and looking down at Mr. K.
“I’m not pulling your leg. He really does like swimming.”
My mom corners me later that evening when I’m dragging a sheet and a blanket out of a closet in Des’s bedroom to make up a bed on the couch.
“James, you and Sadie don’t have to pretend you’re not together,” she whispers. “Just because your dad and I are here.”
What? “What the hell gave you that impression?”
“There’s a whole load of fantasy books in here,” my mom says, waving her hand toward the bookcase. “You don’t read fantasy.” Her jaw is set.
Uh-oh.
But she’d be surprised these days. Sadie’s been persuading me to try all sorts of things. We put all the books we brought back from Queens in here because they were the only shelves with any space.
“We just collected a lot of books from her mom’s place. This was the only space in the apartment.”
My mom gives me a skeptical look. “Are you telling us the truth here, James?”
“About what?”
“About you and Jane? Your dad and I thought it was very strange. Jane’s far too sensible to give up on you, and then we turn up here and find you living with another woman!”
“Mom, I’m not living with Sadie. I work with her. That’s it.”
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
What? “She never looks at me, Mom.”
“Exactly!”
The following day, I have perhaps the most uncomfortable day I’ve ever had with my parents.
After the conversation with my mom, it’s clear that they’ve decided that, because she’s sharing an apartment with me, the breakdown of my relationship with Jane is all Sadie’s fault.
I shake my head and tell them quietly, when Sadie’s out of earshot, that she had nothing to do with it, but they are icily polite to her and keep asking pointed questions.
They’re convinced I’m sleeping in the living room to save face.
And they are not those people; they’re always warm and kind.
Now I’m wishing that I’d shared some of the oblivious things that Jane has said to me.
But something about how they’ve been ever since they arrived makes me think that the only way it’ll get through to them is if they meet Jane and ask her all their own questions.
Maybe she’ll behave differently with them.
So Saturday night, fortunately, or unfortunately—I can’t quite make up my mind—the three of us head off to meet Jane for dinner.
We leave Sadie at home and catch the subway to Camillo’s, an Italian restaurant near Prospect Park, which is halfway between Des’s apartment and my old place in Brighton Beach.
I’m studying the menu against the wooden tabletop when movement in the doorway catches my eye, and when I look over, a server is talking to Jane, and …
holy shit … Kevin is standing right behind her.
She brought Kevin here for this meal? My heart starts a crazy rhythm in my chest. What is she thinking?
As they weave through the tables, he takes her hand in his, and all I can think is:
Run!
Run!
Run!
This is a disaster. Of epic proportions. My parents are not prepared for this. At all.
I put my napkin on the table and stand up, and my mom and my dad turn to where Jane is now standing, a big beaming smile on her face.
“Mom! Pops!” she says.
They both get up with equally huge smiles, and my mom wraps her in a warm hug.
“It’s so good to see you!” my mom exclaims. “I don’t know why you and James …”
“Likewise!” Jane interrupts, still grinning as she steps back quickly and tugs Kevin forward. “And this is my boyfriend, Kevin. He’s come here straight from his train to meet me. I hope you don’t mind one extra.”
An odd frown crosses my dad’s face, and my mom’s eyes whizz down to where Kevin’s fingers are linked through Jane’s and back up again as her mouth drops open.
Fuck. On the subway, she said she would talk to Jane this evening and smooth over whatever it was that had caused us to have a “falling-out.” Her words not mine.
She patted my hand and told me that she’d fix it and not to worry.
The nerve of Kevin turning up here. Could Jane not see this would be monumentally awkward?
It’s like she has some weird Teflon force field around her lately.
And to be fair, soccer-loving Kevin is looking a bit uncomfortable.
But what can I do? Am I going to cause a scene in a restaurant?
Storm out and leave my parents, or drag them out with me?
No. No I’m not. As I take in Jane’s sleek ponytail, my resolve tightens.