day six: hey jane

leonard cohen on my stereo, i need this kind of musical envelopment of self right now. his voice singing me a bedtime story as i lie here by the window, trying to breathe the night into my veins. maybe the mysteries in the starless sky will distract me from this internal push and pull going on, with me, and within me. it is unseasonably warm for october, even for california. I can feel the trickle of sweat creep down the back of my neck. I need to do so many things, but, right now all i want to do was lose myself in the music, and lie here on the floor.

I have been avoiding so much lately, even the smallest things, like buying new shampoo or cereal, i put off. i am slowly going through every possible thing my cupboards can present to me. trial size soaps and shampoo and conditioner combinations, from that trip to santa barbara, the weekend that changed everything. it was the weekend of jake's birthday, conceive a baby weekend. i remember jake laughing when i stashed these in my bags, calling me his little thief; he had no idea.

top ramen noodles and tomato soup cans are sustaining me, tuna and fancy crackers, those ones from a party robert had over new year's. these are the crackers we forgot in the car. i remember the fight we had on the way, so vividly, the same fight that took it's jab at us, over and over. robert and i, how jake couldn't understand it. he told me that it was more than jealousy, that there was simply no competing, not when robert entered the picture. i protested, again and again, until my mouth went dry, my body, too. i yelled at jake that day, in the car, right outside of robert and troy's house, in the driveway, my face red with fury.

"i just want us all to be friends. can't you understand, jake? i just want us to be friends. it's important to me." i pleaded, trying to regain some modicom of composure.

jake laughed at me, shook his head.

"look at you, jane. nothing gets you worked up like this. if i could only have a half of that passion. but, no, only robert gets that," he cocked his head, his voice incredulous, almost mocking. "you silly girl, we will never be friends. you know that just as well as i know it." he shook his head, laughing as he hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. we forgot these crackers in the backseat.

one of these days i’ll have to go to the store. one of these days i’ll have to call robert. one of these days i’ll have to go back to work. but, today is not that day. today i need more music. today i need to forget how to remember.

i change the album, dig out joni mitchell's blue; the one i stole from mom's garage, that and half of her beatles' collection. i feel it again, this movement inside me, kick and a roll; it just took my breath. this living thing inside of me, this baby girl, it is so hard to really believe that it's real. even when i stand naked, just out of the shower, my belly growing exponentially ever week, even my breasts are growing. and, now this rolling and kicking inside, too. and yet i still find it so hard to believe.

the panic is setting in again, maybe if i turn up the music and try to sing along it will help. concentrate everything on the lyrics, remembering the lyrics, my mother's voice in my head. she used to sing tome, these songs. i am so lost in the music that i do not even hear the knock at the door. knocking, more knocking, eventually the knocing becomes pounding and that is what catches my ear. i turn to look, as if the door will tell me who is on the other side; or, maybe, the door can tell whoever it is that i am not home, that i've moved away, disappeard. but, it would be impossible to believe, or hide, with all this music and singing going on, seeping out of the walls and into the hallway.

i turn the volume down, and walk slowly to the door, half hoping whoever is on the other side will give up and walk away. i open the door cautiously, holding my breath in slightly, hoping to see nothing but empty air.

i wish i could have seen the look on my own face when it registered just who was on the other side of the door.

"surprise!" three voices chime in, singing, arms in the air; and then reaching for me.