Chapter 18 Testing the Waters
Softly knocking, I use my key to enter the apartment, followed by Jake.
I cringe as the smell of onions and garlic that has seeped into the curtains and furniture from fifty years of Polish cooking hits us.
I only noticed the smell once I moved out, and now when I drop by to visit, I realize how pervasive it is.
Walking ahead of Jake, I head down the hallway and into the kitchen. My mother is sitting at the old Formica table with her walker nearby. She is sipping a mug of tea.
I say tentatively, “Hi, Mama. How are you doing?”
My mom looks up and smiles, then her eyes slide past me and register surprise at seeing someone else. I try to say something, but all the words turn to dust in my mouth. Jake steps forward with his hand outstretched and reaches for my mother’s hand.
“Mrs. Jablonski, I’m Jake. We’ve been neighbors for years. I’m so glad to meet you finally.”
My mother recovers and straightens up. “Yes, nice to meet you, too.”
I usher Jake to a seat across from my mother and pull up the chair next to her.
“Mama, we just got engaged, and we ran right over here to tell you first. Jake surprised me completely, hmm, in the park.” I slip my hand out of my pocket and hold it out to her. “Isn’t it lovely?”
She takes hold of my hand, and I feel a slight tremor. She peers at the ring and then at me. “Emma, what a surprise,” she whispers.
“I know. It all happened so fast. Jake is Veronica’s cousin and when I started working for her, we saw a lot of each other,” I blurt. “We started dating a while ago and it just happened so fast, but I’m really happy.”
I’m not sure what is true and what isn’t, and it all flows out as naturally as rain.
Jake takes over the conversation, telling my mother about his teaching position at Columbia and how he is working on his PhD dissertation.
I’m not sure my mother understands much of what he shares, but she listens intently and nods at all the right times.
She pats his hand when he finishes. “Ahh, you take good care of my Emma, won’t you?”
I look sharply at my mother. Calling me my Emma is the most endearing thing she has ever said. Amazing. All it took was a fake engagement.
Standing, I announce, “I’m going to go show Babcia.”
Jake starts to get up, but I shake my head. “No, please. You stay.”
He settles back into the hard chair obediently.
I walk to Babcia’s room and fumble through the story of my engagement again. When I’m done, she says, “Well, good for you. About time you did something for yourself.”
While her comment is not as sweet as my mother’s, it’s even more surprising.
Stepping back into the kitchen, I glance at our wall clock. It’s almost 4:00 p.m. and my father could be home anytime.
“We have to run,” I say in a rush.
Jake pops up out of his chair.
My mother looks disappointed, but states evenly, “I will tell your papa. Congratulations to both of you.”
Out on Fifth Avenue, I’m giddy with my audacity and my ring.
But I slow and my shoulders slump. I shouldn’t be gloating about lying to my parents and the world.
Sending a quick prayer of forgiveness up toward the heavens, I glance furtively down the street for my father.
Relieved that I don’t see him, I hurry Jake toward the park anyway, knowing my father never uses my shortcut.
“And you said you couldn’t act.” He laughs. “You were marvelous.”
A surge of pride swells in my chest despite my best efforts to contain it. Lying is nothing one should be proud of, but I practically skip back to Vee’s. As we approach her apartment door, Jake is still next to me and suddenly the ring feels like a weight on my finger and my palms get clammy.
Jake, as always, senses my nervousness. “I’m just walking my fiancée safely home,” he says lightly. “I have class in a few minutes, so I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Equal measures of relief and disappointment course through me.
Turning quickly, I impulsively say, “If you need to do work or stuff, you can come here after class . . .” I rush on, “I can make you pierogies or naleski or even pasta.”
Jake pauses for a minute. “Make it pierogies and you have yourself a deal.”
I laugh and he turns, striding quickly away.
The pierogies are sizzling in the pan when Jake knocks, even though I know he has a key, and I rush to let him in.
He inhales dramatically, “Oh, I’ve been waiting all class for this. I almost dismissed them early today.”
Serving up the pierogies with sour cream onto a plate, I pull a beer from the fridge—I ran to get some after he agreed to come for dinner—and open it for him.
He smiles appreciatively, lets out a satisfied sigh, and quickly works his way through six pierogies, then spreads some papers on the breakfast nook and starts working with another beer nearby.
After I clean up, I wander through the apartment, unsure of what to do. Jake has his computer out and I hear the whirl of the printer hidden in Vee’s bookcase kick in.
Jake gets up and collects the handful of papers that were just spit out from the printer and hands them to me.
He beams. “Your application for the job at Columbia. Fill it out, and I’ll hand deliver it to Professor Montgomery tomorrow.
I already talked to him. Turns out he just let go another assistant in a long line of assistants, and he is willing to hire anyone at this point.
” He slaps a hand over his mouth. “Oh, that didn’t come out right.
He is willing to hire you. He’s tough but fair.
It really is the assistants who have been awful. ”
I hesitate, then take the papers and head off to find a pen.
If I’ve learned anything these past months, it’s that living is scary, and I need to face those fears because time is marching on.
In just over four months, there won’t be any more fears to face, only boredom.
Oh, except for MS. So, maybe there will be a few scary things to face.
As I work through the application, I pepper Jake with questions, mainly regarding what address I should use—Vee’s or my old one—and what I should say about college, as all I have are a bunch of community college courses taken over the years.
Jake is thrilled when I tell him I’ve taken a basic Excel course, as he says that will be really helpful.
Staring at the completed application, I’m not sure what I’m feeling. My stomach is unsettled, and a knot of anxiety settles in the pit of it.
“Remember how nervous you were for Vee’s job?” Jake nudges me. “How many times did you ask us, what does a personal assistant do?” He chuckles and continues, “You survived and even thrived.”
I stretch out my tense neck muscles, twisting my head and shoulders to loosen them, trying to smile confidently.
I did figure out how to be a personal assistant.
And if I were to believe Vee, I didn’t mess it all up at the end; according to her, I may have even helped.
Just the other day on the phone she said, “I’m where I should be, and I have you to thank for that.
Not because you are to blame for my issues, but because having you as a friend showed me life is not that complex if you approach it honestly and openly. ”
Handing Jake the papers, my fingers graze his open palm.
I glance up and catch a look of surprise in Jake’s eyes, like he forgot all about our recent indiscretion and my touch suddenly raised it from his subconscious.
A rush of blush stains my cheeks as I remember the morning after and how repulsed he was.
I yank my hand back quickly, and he has to make a mad grab for the last of the papers when I do.
Jake continues to work for another hour on the papers he has spread out.
I glance at them; they are complex spreadsheets and maps, and I can’t decipher anything.
I settle down on the couch with my trusty guidebook and read about the birds and their secret world.
I lose track of time until Jake gets up, yawns and piles up the scattered papers. Our eyes meet.
“Why don’t we plan to tell my parents about our engagement this weekend? We can stop over there this Saturday. They’ll be busy getting ready for a dinner party, so it will be quick and painless.” Jake’s casual tone belies the crease of worry on his forehead.
“Can’t you just tell them, and I’ll come over some other time?”
Laughing, he retorts, “I’m not going into the lion’s den alone.
You need to be there, or they will never believe me.
We can run through some scenarios on Friday night after my class, and maybe by then you’ll have Professor Montgomery’s job.
They know you were working for Vee, and I don’t want them to find any more issues with this than they have to. ”
The words, any more issues, echo in my head and my heart sinks. I know Jake is completely out of my league, but it is still painful to hear him state it so bluntly.