13 The Lasagna
The Lasagna
Ross and I didn’t talk much the next day. I didn’t call Monty, either, and surprisingly, he didn’t bother me. Or not at first. It was better that way. At least for a day, I needed to be alone to work things out. Even if that was selfish.
But late in the evening, I learned I wouldn’t be getting off that easy. I was still on campus when the call came through. I answered. I didn’t want to make matters worse.
“Hello?”
A pause. Then, “Jenna, you want to tell me why you haven’t talked to me all day?” There was that tone again: angry, insecure. It usually meant bad things were coming. So I told him to relax.
“Relax? Relax when my girlfriend has been ignoring me for an entire day?”
“Yes, relax,” I said.
“That’s easy for you to say. If you ever called me, I’d pick up immediately. But when I call you, you always leave me hanging.”
“I’m busy, Monty.”
“Busy doing what? Busy with Jack Ross’s dick in your mouth?”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I get that you’re angry, but that doesn’t give you the right to…”
“Either you tell me exactly what you’ve been up to or I’m going to assume you’ve been putting me off on purpose.”
I tried not to let him get to me. Telling him off wouldn’t do any good. So I pinched the bridge of my nose, took a deep breath, and tried to be rational, glad, at least, that he wasn’t here and the worst thing he could do was punch his pillow.
“Monty, you’re angry, OK? And you’re about to make me angry. And you shouldn’t talk about things when you’re angry.”
“You’ve done something. I can tell. You’ve done something and you feel guilty, and that’s why you won’t give me a straight answer about what you’ve been up to.”
“Monty, I need to go.”
“You listen to me right now, Jenna. From this moment forward, you better answer all of my messages.”
“You’re acting like a psycho,” I said.
“Oh, really? You want to know what you’re acting like?”
“No,” I replied submissively.
He could tell I was backing down, and he seemed to like that. In a cloying voice, he continued, “Now be a good girl and promise me you’re going to respond to me when I write or call.”
“Monty…”
“Jenna, are you fucking hearing me?”
“Fine, I promise,” I said.
“Now tell me what you’re wearing.”
I did so, and then he asked what I was doing that night, and I told him it was none of his business.
Of course he wanted to know if I was going to see Ross.
I told him he was taking things too far, and he went back to calling me a whore, and I said our conversation was over.
I could still hear him screaming when I hung up.
Arguing with him was exhausting. And it was always the same.
I was sick of it. Why couldn’t he be the same charming guy I used to know?
Why did he have to turn into a jealous weirdo who kept cursing at me?
He had promised he wouldn’t get nasty with me again, and he hadn’t even made it a day.
My phone rang again. This time it was Ross.
He’d hardly spoken a word to me this morning, and now he was calling? Why?
“Hey,” I murmured when I picked up.
“You busy tonight?” he asked, cheerful as ever.
“Why?”
“Mom wants us to come to dinner. All of us, Will and Naya, too. May I confirm your presence at the banquet?”
“I, uh…” I was so confused. Things were so weird the night before and now he was inviting me to his parents’ place? I didn’t get it. I was on the verge of tears.
“Jen, are you OK? Do you need me to come pick you up?”
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just Monty. We had an argument. I don’t want to talk about it. Seriously. It’s not anything you should worry about.”
“Of course I should worry about it. Anything that makes you stop smiling concerns me. And listen: no pressure, but you should know the moment you’re tired of fighting with him, I’m here.”
How could he be so sweet? And the strange thing was, I don’t even think he was aware of it. And I liked him even more for that. I told him, “You know, you’d be right to be mad at me.”
“I don’t know if I could be mad at you.”
I smiled. “You might regret inviting me. I don’t know if you can tell from my tone, but I’m a disaster right now. You’ll realize it when you see me.”
“I was kidding about it being a banquet, Jen. It’s just a normal dinner. And I should warn you, my mother’s a pain when she wants something. She even makes Naya look chill. If you don’t go, you’ll never hear the end of it the next time she sees you.”
“Fine, I’ll go. What time should I…”
“I’ll pick you up now. Same place as last time.”
He hung up before I could answer, leaving me there to struggle with my feelings about him, about Monty, about my own lack of nerve.
Five minutes later, he was pulling up. He eyed me up quickly as I got in and said, “Disaster’s not the word I’d use for you.
” He must have realized flirting with me would make me uncomfortable, because he turned up the music then so I wouldn’t have to respond.
Naya and Will were already waiting for us outside when we pulled up.
They were chatty when they got in—something about Naya’s classes.
I had my own things to deal with and didn’t really listen. I don’t think Ross did, either.
I asked how far away his parents lived, and Ross said ten minutes. By then I’d cheered up enough to make a joke. “What you mean is, they live twenty minutes away, but ten minutes with you driving.”
When I watched him laugh, when I saw how easy it was to make peace with him, I couldn’t help but think how hard things were with Monty. Duh, Ross is better , my brain said. Thanks again, Brain.
“You actually don’t drive bad for someone who goes so fast,” I said.
“I’ve got good reflexes.”
“Tell that to the traffic cops when they pull you over.”
“ If they pull me over,” he responded.
His prediction was right: ten minutes on the dot and we were in a residential area with big houses with big yards and expensive cars.
Almost like my own neighborhood, but nice.
Because it was nighttime, I couldn’t see too much, just that the house was handsome, white in color, with doors made of dark wood.
He stopped in front of the garage, which opened soon afterward, and he parked next to what I assume were his parents’ cars.
It was so big and neat, so different from my parents’ sorry garage, which was now where Steve and Sonny ran their so-called business.
Ross once again had read my mind and lingered behind to ask me if I was nervous as we were on our way in. I nodded.
“A bit. Who all is going to be here? Just your mother and us?”
“Mike, too, probably,” he said.
“And your dad?”
“Nah. He’s not coming.” I noticed the tension in his face as he said this, but I didn’t press him. As we caught up with Naya and Will, they both remarked on how hungry they were. As soon as Ross opened the door, it smelled like food. “Lasagna,” Naya said. “It’s got to be.”
I walked in first. The house inside was simple, formal, austere, but attractive, just as it was outside.
Orderly. Very clean. It looked perfect and it smelled like money, if that’s possible.
Ross guided us through the entryway to a giant living room with a fireplace and a TV that took up half the wall.
From there, we walked on to the dining room, where there was a long glass table already set.
Over it hung an enormous, beautiful chandelier that I couldn’t help staring at.
“Hello? Mom?” Ross called, peeking into the neighboring kitchen.
“Ask her if she made lasagna,” Naya said.
“You’ve got a good nose,” Ross’s mother said as she came out. “Now go on, give me some space. Your father and your nightmare of a brother are going to be here soon.”
“Dad’s coming?” Ross asked.
His mother responded with an almost apologetic look and said, “Yes, honey, he called me an hour ago. I didn’t know he was coming or I would have told you.”
I could tell Ross wasn’t happy with the surprise.
He seemed frozen for a moment, unsure what to do.
Then he remembered I was there and guided me back to the living room, where Naya and Will had taken their places on one of the couches.
I took my time looking at the shelves full of books, the paintings, and the photos, all of which I supposed were Mary’s work.
There was a huge piano by the window. It was all so sophisticated. So luxurious. And it made me jealous.
“Can I ask you something obvious, Ross?” I said.
Arching an eyebrow, he said, “Shoot.”
“Why the hell do you live in your apartment when your parents have this mansion?”
“I like my apartment.”
“But you have everything here!”
“Not everything,” he said. “At the apartment, I have you.”
It was a sweet comment—Naya apparently thought so, too, I could tell from her expression—but this wasn’t right.
I couldn’t play with Ross’s feelings. He took my hand, but I pulled it away quickly.
Before Ross could ask why, the front door opened, I heard someone whistling, and Mike appeared, saying hello to everyone and taking a turn that reminded me of Michael Jackson. “The party can start now,” he said.
Naya remarked, “I guess nothing good can last.”
Ross and I had taken a seat on the couch. Mike jumped on it and landed between us. I thought Ross would kill him as he said, “Did you not notice there are plenty of other places for you to sit?”
Mike ignored him and asked, “Hey, Jenna, what’s up?”
“Same old, same old,” I said. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I’m always up for a free meal,” he responded. “Especially with good company.”
Ross objected, saying, “The company doesn’t care about you.”
Mike went on pretending he hadn’t heard him, telling me he had new stuff and that I should call him when I got bored. “Tell the bitchy one, too,” he added. “The three of us make a pretty good team.”