Chapter 21 Jasmine #2
For those thirteen weeks, it felt like she and Cash were a normal brother and sister.
They talked about everything—their mother, their fathers, growing up in Vermont, his misadventures, her college experiences.
She brought Lydia and Lucy with her at first, before he got so skeletal and disoriented from medication, and he was so sweet with them, letting them push the buttons on his hospital bed, thanking them for the plush stuffed dog they gave him, asking them to pick out a name.
Mr. Blueberry stayed with Cash till he died.
If he’d opted for suicide, she never would have had that time, that love.
The chance to do something truly good for once, not for show or for approval, but just because it was the right thing to do.
It had been a strangely happy time, hanging out with her brother, laughing, poking fun at their mother—Cash could do a killer impression of her—learning about each other.
Those weeks were a gift. The cancer had burned away all the pretense and posturing and left behind a sweet, gentle man.
And yes, he’d been in terrible pain some days, whimpering and sweating, then rolly-eyed with morphine.
But the last day he was conscious, though he couldn’t swallow anymore and hadn’t eaten in a week, he took her hand and whispered through his dry, cracked lips, “I’m so glad we had this, Jazzy.
Thanks, kiddo.” An hour later, he was unresponsive, and two days later, he died.
So no, she doesn’t think suicide is a good option. A life that’s harder and different can still be a life worth living. Audrey might have so many good days ahead of her. She’ll have bad days, yes, but who’s to say she can’t handle them? Who’s to say when life isn’t worth living?
Jasmine came to religion late—and yes, she and Oscar are members of Christ Church in Greenwich because of its prestige and beauty (imagine the girls getting married there!)—but faith sneaked up on her.
Within a month, she found herself believing in a benevolent God.
Not the kind who would grant you a wish because you prayed the right way, but the kind who walks with you when times are hard or sad.
There’s beauty and goodness in every day if you look hard enough (and Jasmine admits now she hasn’t been so consistent on that front).
It’s clear Micah and Beck support Audrey’s decision, which makes Jasmine feel a bit on the outside. It’s also uncomfortable to see that Beck never married or had kids, which brings on the familiar feeling of shame. But Beck seems to be doing well. She’s still the same good person, unlike Jasmine.
That night when Jasmine ran into Oscar and Beck, yes, she’d clocked the gorgeous ring on Beck’s hand, envied Beck’s effortless cool and seen everything Oscar was in a glance.
But she did feel a spark with Oscar. It wasn’t his money and looks (though they obviously helped).
There was a low current of energy between them.
Calling him three days later was exactly what Beck suspected—a calculated move.
They met for a drink later that week, ostensibly to discuss her career.
And they had. He was interested and helpful.
A few days later, Oscar called to tell her he and Beck were no more, and would she like to have dinner?
Hell yes, she would. With her new nose, WASP-y last name, Princeton education and knowledge of the financial world in which Oscar was a demigod, Jasmine knew she could fill the role he wanted.
He was the shortcut to everything she thought she’d earn herself.
She’d been doing everything she could to shine, and she hadn’t managed that.
Oscar didn’t just shine; he was the sun itself. At least, he used to be.
Her phone buzzes against her thigh, and this time, she’s glad for the distraction.
Lydia: where are my nili lotan jeans? i need them Now can u text the stupid housekeepr??? i swear she hides my clothes
Jasmine texts back. She is not stupid, and I’m sure you can find them yourself. I believe in you. Also, punctuation matters!
Lydia: so not funny right now im in a rush
Lucy: dad just told me I couldn’t go to lake tripp this summer. ??? I can’t not go, mom. you know how important it is to me!!!
Jasmine frowns. Lake Tripp is an expensive all-girls summer camp that Lucy adores and has attended the past six years.
Money might be tight, but the camp is one of the few places Lucy seems truly happy, a place where she fits in.
Jasmine texts back. I’ll talk to him when I get home. I know how much you love it there.
Lydia: what is going on? dad just told me i have to pay for my own plane ticket if i want to go to vail with the merrins? i don’t even have a job why is he so mean today?
Lucy: thanks, mommy. fyi dad just Fired Ellen and says I have to skip d&d club and babysit Lyra, who’s super hyper right now. when are you coming home?
Jasmine logs on to her and Oscar’s joint savings account.
The amount is way, way down. Shit. She takes what’s left and transfers it into the Swiss bank account she opened three months ago, then does the same with half of what’s in their checking account.
Cashes in two of their four CDs, wincing at the penalty fee.
The money is no more than she’s entitled to, and she won’t have it going to Oscar’s kept woman.
Once divorce is mentioned—and it looks like it will be, with him cutting out the girls’ activities—there will be a freeze on those accounts.
But not today. Consider this my pay, Oscar.
At the tailgate and game yesterday, a least a dozen people wanted to hear about her “company,” see pictures of her home. She was complimented on her outfit and jewelry, her skin, her hair, her career (sigh). No one ever had any doubt that she’d be a success.
Shame, her constant companion, snuggles up, thick and suffocating.
“Hey,” Micah says, poking her head in the doorway. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, just . . .” She thinks about lying. “Just moving money because my husband has a mistress. Telling my girls how to do laundry, fielding complaints.”
“Shit. Sorry about the mistress.”
“Kind of inevitable in our world,” Jasmine says. Once, she thought she and Oscar would be immune to that. Silly.
“You miss your girls?”