“Oh, yeah. Mrs. Parker in 14C. The writer. Well, critic, I think. She only calls herself a writer. She drinks, that’s why those funny clothes. They all drink. Too much inheritance and not enough small dogs to spend it on. So, wine?”
“Okay! Wine!” Audrey giggled, and started down the hall. As she walked, she closed the bedroom and kitchen doors. Open things, she’d never liked them. Like something half-done, or an invitation to the unknown.
Jayne’s apartment was brighter, but not by much. It faced north and gave a view of Columbia University’s Miller Library. The air was just as oppressive, though, and the place reeked of cigarette smoke, too. The master-bedroom door was open, and she saw that the white sheets and satin, hot pink comforter were unmade. A foam mattress sealed in what looked like a rubber sheet peeked out from under the pink…Was Jayne a bed wetter, too?
In the spare bedroom were stacks of magazines arranged into piles (Entertainment Weekly, Vanity Fair, Variety, Star, OK!, People). There wasn’t any furniture save a pink Pier I satellite chair—small and cumbersome, as if made for a little girl rather than a grown woman. In the kitchen were more ashtrays, all full. She’d smoked the butts down to the filter, not a speck left of white. A beach shell full of Winstons lay half-submerged in gray, ashy water at the bottom of the kitchen sink. Apparently, Jayne didn’t have many guests, either.
The wine and a couple of clean glasses were on the counter, along with a thin line of red ants that crawled up through a crack in the backsplash. She smooshed them with her fingers, then picked up what she needed, and surveyed the apartment. Except for Saraub and Betty, she’d never been inside someone’s apartment by herself. It was nice to be trusted this way. Then she remembered that right now Jayne was alone in 14B, maybe peeking in closets (the door!), so she hurried along, and searched for a bottle opener. She found it clipped to the old GE refrigerator by the Sex and the City magnetic poetry (Cock-a-Doodle-Dooo! 30 is the new twenty! Mine is bigger than yours!).
Also on the GE were about ten photos of redheads ranging in age from infant to octogenarian. Related, clearly. Blue eyes and fair skin. A huge family of cousins aunts, uncles, parents, and siblings. There was also a single, recurring brunette in every photo. She stood back from the others and did not smile. Audrey pulled the “Cock-a-doodle” magnet, and lifted an overexposed Technicolor that looked like it had been snapped in the 1980s. Jayne. The brunette’s small features looked mouselike rather than delicate, and she squinted at the camera, a duck among swans. “Jayne, sweet Jayne,” Audrey clucked, then replaced the photo. No wonder she dyed her hair red.
Before she left, Audrey quickly sponged the counters clean of ants, crumbs, dried coffee, and ashes. She’d never been good at explaining it, especially not to her freshman college roommate, who’d kicked her out after a month, but straightening things for the people she cared about was her way of protecting them. When everything was in its proper place, there wasn’t room for bad stuff to creep through.
She reached 14B with the bottle just as the intercom buzzed, and Chinese food arrived. Jayne was sitting quietly when she returned. She seemed calmer than when they’d met in the hall a half hour ago. Maybe making friends was hard for her, too.
They dug in. Her General Tsao’s was mostly beef grease and MSG, but it did the job and plugged the hole in her grumbling stomach. She finished half the container without looking up.
To her left, Jayne puckered her nose at the green beans but didn’t eat them, then slugged the wine. “Can I have some of yours?” she asked.
“Trade,” Audrey said, and they exchanged cartons.
“Want to watch TV?” Audrey asked after a while. She felt like she was on a date. What do two women do together when they’re alone? She shouldn’t have paid for dinner. Now Jayne had probably gotten the wrong impression, and decided they were going to become lady lesbians.
“Not unless you do. I watched it all day. Luke and Laura are fossilized now. General Hospital with mummies. I used to sneak the soaps when I was a kid because that kind of thing wasn’t allowed where I come from—I’m Mormon. Now I’m thinking of suing ABC for making me stupid. Either that, or Bumble Bee