Chapter 3 Jane #2
I grit my teeth. The chances of me marrying a pastor died before I even turned eighteen, but Mom doesn’t believe that.
She thinks the Glitter Bats influenced me to leave the faith.
The Shore, the trendy church my parents attend, looks progressive on the outside, but in reality, “all are welcome” really means “all are welcome if you live exactly the way our interpretation of the Bible says you should.”
Once I started to fully comprehend how outsiders were treated, that “love your neighbor” had conditions, I was ready to leave and never look back.
My first instinct is to be worried about Nora.
The way I see it, no one should be allowed to get married until their prefrontal cortex is done maturing.
Marrying into the Bradys could be a nightmare that my baby sister still sees as a fantasy.
If she’d been the one to call me, maybe I could have talked to her a little, just made sure she’s okay.
I can’t shake the fear that something’s not right about all this.
“You must be really happy,” I say, pulling into my driveway. But I don’t make any effort to get out of the car. Sometimes switching from Bluetooth to my cell disconnects the call, and hanging up on my mom isn’t going to do our fractured relationship any favors.
Even if this conversation is making me want to toss my phone into the ocean.
“Like I said: I’m over the moon!” my mom says. “All of the other ladies in my Bible study group are so jealous!”
“That’s nice,” I say, and as much as I try to keep my tone placid, Mom doesn’t buy it.
“Oh, you know I’m not really serious. It’s all in good fun! Everyone wants to be a Brady, even if only by proxy.”
“Right,” I say, because everyone at The Shore practically worships Mike Brady as much as they claim to worship their god, and I’m sure his oldest son enjoys just as much adoration. If he’s anything like his dad, Daniel is the last person I’d want my sister to end up with.
But I hope for Nora’s sake that I’m wrong.
“So the wedding is going to be on New Year’s Eve. You’ll be home, right?”
My hand was already on the door handle, but I freeze. “That’s less than four months away. How are you planning something that quickly?”
Mom laughs dismissively. “Oh, I’ve been planning your sister’s wedding for years on Pinterest. We can come up with something quickly enough. And when you know the person God has put in your life is your future spouse, it’s foolish to wait too long, isn’t it?”
I clench my fists. Four months won’t give Nora even a breath to make sure this is what she wants for her life.
With Mom in control, it’s going to be a nonstop marathon of decorations and cake tastings and who knows what else.
And I’ve put so much distance between us that if I ask Nora what she really wants, I’m sure she’ll just get defensive.
I barely know my baby sister anymore, and that’s my fault.
Still, she’s getting married. I have to do something.
“I don’t know what my schedule is yet, but I’ll do my best to be there.”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course you’ll be in the bridal party—what would everyone think if you weren’t? Your family is more important than that secular music you’re so proud of making, Jane Rebecca.”
“I know,” I say, because it’s the only thing that will get her off the phone, even though I’m sure Nora doesn’t want me in her retinue on what is hopefully a happy day for her. “I’ll let Nora know once I figure out my plans.”
“Don’t bother, I’m handling everything. You’ll come home before Christmas and stay with us—your sister is going to need all the help she can get before the big day.”
I open my mouth to argue and close it again. It’s bad enough that this is coming from Mom, and I don’t want to fight. Not when I’m heading inside for a marathon producing session tonight. There’s no way I’m going home for Christmas—I haven’t in years—but it’s no use arguing with Mom right now.
That can come later.
“Sure, Mom. Look, I just got home. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“I’m praying you’ll soften your heart toward your sister. You should be celebrating her happiness! This apathy is from the devil,” she says, and then she hangs up.
Because of course any rational thought is from the devil, but that’s just how my mom sees the world. Overwhelmed, I lean my head on my steering wheel and let out a long-suffering groan. Every call with my mother throws me into emotional turmoil for at least an hour.
I don’t know how long I sit there, but finally the food delivery car pulls up behind my Prius.
Blinking, I force a pleasant expression onto my face, step out of the car to greet the delivery person, and collect my noodles.
They smell like garlic and soy sauce and every good thing in the world, and I hold the bag close as I walk over to my front porch.
I can’t believe my baby sister is getting married.
Mom calling me with the news instead of Nora doing it herself feels like the worst sort of commentary on our relationship.
When I was still at home, she came to me for everything.
Dad was always working and Mom was so busy with the church, so I was the one teaching her to read and making sure she brushed her teeth.
But the age gap between us now feels like a ravine.
She must think I’m horrible—some wayward, prodigal sister, a person she has to keep at arm’s length to avoid being led astray by my sins.
When I get inside my house, I’m struck by just how empty it is.
I’ve done everything I can to liven up the space: I’ve painted the walls and filled the rooms with furniture in bright colors, every available shelf and corner hosts a lively, well-maintained plant, and the whole place smells like vanilla, my favorite scent.
And none of it makes me feel less alone.
I want to call Keeley, ask her if she’ll come over the way she’s done countless times.
We’d split the noodles, and I would apologize, and for a few precious hours, these lonely walls would be filled by her brash warmth.
We’d both get a little tipsy on wine, and I’d rail about my family, and she’d tell me fuck all of them for making me feel this way.
But no matter how much I want to fix things and find comfort in her friendship, I have a track to finish. So I take my food over to the counter and light a couple of candles, trying to warm up the room.
Maybe my mom was right, and I doomed myself to a lonely life when I chose the music industry.
I’m exhausted from the constant grind. Church taught me how to navigate the games people play when they want something from you, but that doesn’t make dealing with Hollywood any easier.
I might not get the brunt of the media’s wrath the way Valerie does, but I still have to put on the perfect, people-pleasing persona that makes everyone say they love me if I want to keep it that way.
If I’m wearing a mask anyway, maybe it would have been easier to be the girl my parents wanted me to be. I know I’d never have been happy. I’d have found another kind of loneliness in that life.
But it doesn’t make this loneliness hurt any less. Gosh, I should at least go adopt a cat one of these days.
I set the takeout bag down and rifle around in the cupboards for a wineglass. Drinking is usually off-limits when I’m working, but half a glass with my dinner won’t hurt anything. At least it might take the edge off this ache in my soul.
I don’t want the path my sister is taking, but I also don’t want to be alone like this anymore either. I want…well, it doesn’t matter what I want.
There’s nothing to do about any of that tonight. Instead, I just pour myself a glass of white wine. Foregoing the time it would take to set my meal out on a plate, I open up the takeout box, load up my fork, and take a big bite of the steaming noodles.
Then I grab my laptop and get to work.