Teddy sighed. “I wish you could relax, allow yourself to be open to the possibility of things going well, the possibility of being happy.”
“That’s really sweet. I wish for that, too. I’ll make it my Christmas wish.”
Chapter Eleven
Maggie
The next morning, as Jane sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and trying to generate enthusiasm for the coming day, she ruminated about Teddy. Their dinner was surprisingly easy and fun; they had parted with a warm hug, leaving Jane with a nagging uncertainty as to what to do next.
Christmas was almost upon them, and it was a grim time to be alone. Jane and Teddy had decided to “be there for each other during the holidays.” It seemed like a safe middle ground: they weren’t getting back together but were agreeing to be together. Simple enough, yet it felt complicated. She assumed they were both having similar misgivings about the possibility of lapsing back into a well-worn groove. Because if they ever got back together, what would actually be different? It needed to be different, didn’t it? But it was hard enough trying to change herself; she certainly couldn’t transform Teddy. And she didn’t want a different person anyway—she wanted Teddy, just a slightly improved version of thesame Teddy. Her brain was tumbling down the stairs of an Escher hallway, and that’s when her phone rang.
The caller ID revealed it was her mother. Her mother was calling at eight in the morning? Maybe something was wrong....
“Hello.”
“Oh. Hi, Jane.” Why did her mother invariably sound slightly surprised when Jane answered her own phone?
“Hi, Mom. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’ll be quick. When you called yesterday and said you... you know... you loved me, I was, well, very distracted.” She paused to clear her throat and Jane waited. Was this some sort of apology? “I wanted to call you first thing this morning and say that... I love you, too.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“Okay, Jane, I have to get going. Have a good day, dear.”
“Thanks, you too, Mom.”
While not quite an effusive declaration of maternal love, it was something, and Jane got the message.
The effect of this exchange with her mother lingered. It wasn’t quite buoyancy, but she felt slightly unburdened, freeing her to attack the rest of her life with more vigor. Maybe not attack, that was too aggressive. Explore.
She needed to be open to new things, to new people. Teddy was dating, so it was incumbent on her to do the same. She was very attracted to Jake, and she needed to give that a chance. For their second date, he’d suggested meeting at the La Brea Tar Pits. Jane arrived early. It was a brisk, sunny December day, and she was admiring the hillocks around the paleontology museum, which were blanketed with bright green grass, when she spotted Jake walking toward her, a confident bounce in his step. Whenthey hugged, his hands lingered on her back in a way that made her tingly, and in the daylight, she could see the disarmingly sexy laugh lines around his eyes.
The Tar Pits and the County Museum of Art complex were populated with an eclectic mix of wide-eyed tourists, culture vultures, families with young children, and hipsters with expensive sneakers. The art museum was about to tear down most of its buildings and break ground on a massive new structure, so the collection was jammed into temporary quarters, which they decided to check out.
When they reached the modern art galleries, Jake broke into a gleeful smirk, as if calling bullshit on all the paintings around him. Jane explained that this art was about seeing in new, novel ways. He listened intently, then motioned to a canvas of green circles superimposed over blue rectangles.
“I love that you get all that, Jane, it’s awesome, but I’ve never studied art so I’m a bit of a rube. I look at that painting and all I see is some dude who’s crawled up his own asshole.”
“Well, if that’s the case, a lot of people have been very impressed by what he found up in there, and many have paid millions for it.”
Jake chortled, provoking a stern look from the serious aesthete next to him who had been gazing rapturously at the painting. Jake waved an apology, then, in a soft voice, told Jane, “I prefer paintings that tell a story, more than the paintings you have to tell a story to, you know what I mean?”
“That you’re lazy?”
“Ha, got me there. But you know, it just starts to feel like religion, endowing objects with meanings that aren’t really there. Animism.”
Jane protested. “But that’s human nature—I see it every dayat my job. People want the things that populate their lives to mean something.” She paused. “Don’t you?”
“Yeah, of course I do.”
The next day, Jane found Lindsey leaning against her car, busily texting, and noted that Lindsey had added a shock of purple to her wedge of bleached blond hair.
“Wow, you got here before me,” Jane marveled.
“I know, right? I am so on top of stuff now. It’s because of Jesús.”
Jesús, the Trader Joe’s employee and aspiring musician that Lindsey was dating, not the Savior whose birthday celebration was in full throttle right now. Lindsey pronounced his name with a carefully calibrated Spanish accent that she clearly relished, and which actually sounded pretty authentic to Jane’s ear.
