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“Just a stupid, insecure, jealous little jerk.”

“Did you beat him to a pulp?” Stupid question, but I half hope he did.

“Nah. He’s not worth it. I just put the fear of God into him, that’s for sure. I don’t think he’ll bother you anymore.”

And when I say nothing, Jack grasps my chin so that I have to look into his eyes.

“Emma,” he tells me. “He’s just a stupid kid.”

“Yes, I know,” I say, pulling my face away. “I remember a similar occasion when some other stupid kids said something unkind about my breasts. But I guess they were just being, you know, guys. Jocks.”

This stops him in his tracks and he rakes a hand through his hair.

“Look,” he says.

“No,” I tell him. “I’m going home.”

I am just climbing into a cab when I realize that he is right behind me.

“You don’t have to leave the party on my account,” I say, because instead of being angry with Lou, all of my fury is directed at Jack. For what happened at Dad and Peri’s wedding. And because I’ve allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security. I like Jack too much and it scares me, because I know that he’s a one-fuck kind of guy. Not a forever kind of guy.

“I’m sure you’ll find a chick with breasts who wants to sleep with you. Don’t let me ruin your evening.” Yes, I know this is bitchy. I just want Jack to stop being nice to me.

“Emma, that’s not fair.”

“It is
so
fair. Heather’s really into you.”

“Will you stop?” he says, and I know that I am pushing it too far.

He gives our address to the cabdriver and neither of us says a word until we are inside the house. I am going straight to bed, because I am going to have a really good cry. But as I step up onto the second stair, Jack is right behind me.

“Emma,” he says, softly grasping my upper arms. “There’s something you need to know about what happened at the wedding.”

I don’t move, because I can’t. I’m frozen to the spot.

“Chip and I…” He sighs, and I shiver as I feel the warmth of his breath on my nape. “Look, if I did something, Chip had to do it better. If
I
liked a girl, Chip had to prove that she liked
him
better. The things we said on the terrace that night, well, I didn’t mean them. I thought if he knew I really liked you, he’d have to have you.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Is he admitting that he liked me, all those years ago? Have I carried a stupid grudge all this time for the wrong reasons?

And then he turns me gently around to face him.

“Chip slept with my fiancée in Hong Kong,” he tells me. “That’s why we split up.”

“Oh God, that’s terrible. He was your best friend,” I say, finding my voice. “Jack, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…”

“Yeah,” he says, almost whispering. “Here,” he says, tugging the wrap from me because I’m still clutching it like a security blanket. But I let him take it, because in that moment I trust him.

As the wrap flutters to the floor, Jack places his hands on my midriff, over the still-damp fabric.

“You are so beautiful,” he tells me, his eyes on my breasts. “Your breasts are perfect, just like the rest of you. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?” He looks up from my breasts and we are nearly at eye level, because he is still standing on the hall floor.

And then I know he’s going to kiss me.

As he silently asks permission with his eyes, I lean toward him to show him I’m receptive. I don’t care if he’s my land
lord. I don’t care if he’s Peri’s brother. I don’t care about anything, except that this is Jack and that I want him so badly to kiss me.

And just as I close my eyes, just before our lips meet, the kitchen door is pushed open.

“Jack, Emma, where have you guys been?” It’s Peri.

Our eyes fly open and Jack can’t let go of me quick enough. Fortunately, Peri does not seem to notice.

“Oh, Jack.” Peri runs the length of the hall and throws herself into his arms. “I’ve left Joe. Me and the twins are moving in with you.”

“I just can’t believe what he said.” Peri sniffles as she drinks her tea. “After I told him he had to spend more time at home, he said that he couldn’t stand being at home because—because—because the boys are a
nightmare.
He said that about his own children.”

I give her another tissue and wonder what to say to be diplomatic, because I totally understand where Dad is coming from.

“He said that I’m ruining them by not disciplining them. I’m sorry, Emma, I know he’s your dad too, but he doesn’t have any idea about child-rearing. So, it’s okay if we stay here, isn’t it Jack? Until I figure out what to do?”

“Sure, of course it’s okay,” Jack says, sliding me a glance which I totally ignore.

“So why are you guys all dressed up?” she asks, noticing our clothes for the first time. “You been on a date or something? You have, haven’t you? Oh, it’s—”

“No, no date,” Jack interrupts her quickly.

So quickly that I just know that he’s regretting our near kiss. I’m surprised at the depth of my disappointment. But it’s a good thing Peri interrupted us, isn’t it, because if we’d had our one fuck, where would that leave me in the morning?

“I think we all need to get some sleep,” I say, placing my cup on the table.

“Oh, I put the boys in your bed,” Peri tells Jack. “The other two bedrooms are too smelly with varnish and paint—and there are no beds in them, anyhow. I can sleep with the boys, there’s plenty of room for me in there. So I guess I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

And she leaves, before I can sneak up to my own bed, and I’m alone with Jack. The silence is heavy and loaded. I know Jack is watching me.

“I’m, er, I’m going to head off to bed now, too,” I say to the floor.

“Emma?”

“Hmm?” I say to the table.

“About earlier—”

“Er, I’ll see you in the morning,” I say, and flee.

Yes, I know this is pathetic and cowardly.

I do not sleep well. I toss and turn, and am torn between (a) wishing I’d slept with him, and (b) thanking Peri for my narrow escape. This is what I get for having illicit thoughts about Jack. This is what I get for nearly letting him kiss me.

The following morning, I am exhausted, and sleep until after nine so I miss my Saturday-morning yoga with Tish and Rachel. I don’t mind missing the yoga, because I feel like shit, but I do miss my friends. I’m not going to tell them about me and Jack nearly kissing, I think I’ll leave that alone.

By ten, I decide to get up and face the music downstairs. If possible, I will slip quietly out of the front door and thereby avoid Peri, the terrible twins, and Jack. I’m so embarrassed by our near-kiss situation…

“Hi, Emma, you want some breakfast?” Jack calls from the kitchen. He sounds very cheerful.

He sounds like
old
Jack.

He is not nearly-kissed-me Jack anymore, and just for a
moment I am overwhelmed with regret that he will never be nearly-kissed-Emma Jack again.

“I’m making bacon and eggs for Peri and the boys. You want some?”

“Oh,” I say as I pause at the kitchen. “Er, no thanks, Jack. I have stuff to do…”

Jack looks fabulous. Although wearing a faded T-shirt and cutoff shorts, he looks well rested. This is not fair, because (a) it means he didn’t obsess all night like I did, and (b) he slept on the sofa. How can he look so great when I feel like shit. How?

“You must eat,” Peri says, pressing a cup of coffee into my hand. “You look ill. Doesn’t she look ill, Jack? Are you okay? You don’t look okay. You definitely need to eat.”

“She looks good to me,” Jack tells me, flashing me his old-Jack friendly grin.

This is a bit of a relief, but would it hurt him to show the teeniest symptoms of disappointment about last night?

“Thanks, guys,” I say, eyeing the twins, who are eating messily with their fingers. This is enough to put me off food for life, but at least they are marginally well-behaved when stuffing their faces with food. It is the only time they are quiet.

“I have stuff to do. I think I just need some fresh air,” I say, putting down the coffee cup and heading for the door. “See you later.”

It is very cowardly of me leaving Jack with Peri and the boys, but she is
his
sister…I think I’ll go smother my sorrows in one of Rufus’s banana-granola muffins.

As I reach for the door handle of the deli, I pause because I see Tish inside. She is seated at a table, and she is not alone. Rufus is sitting with her, and they are actually talking to each other. In fact, Tish is flirting with him. I can tell by her body language, plus, she’s wearing that sexy little red
fuck me
dress. And Rufus is laughing and leaning closer to her.

Okay, they do not need me to play third wheel. I think I’ll go see Rachel instead.

You go, girl,
I think, sending silent, encouraging vibes to Tish.

When I reach Rachel’s apartment, I ring the doorbell and am startled when a man’s voice answers. Oops, this must be her new man. I don’t want to interrupt. Okay, so this is not a good time for Rachel, either.

“Oh,” I say. “Sorry. I’ll come back later.”

“Hold on. Are you a friend of Rachel’s?”

“Er, yes.”

I can always go and play third wheel with Tom and Katy instead—at least, I could play with Alex so that they can go back to bed for more hot sex.

I really must do something about my lack of sex. I think it’s having a strange effect on my brain.

“Well, come on up,” he insists, pressing the door-release buzzer.

I’m curious, so I get in the elevator, and as I reach Rachel’s door, I am shocked by the man who opens it and smiles at me, because never in a million years would I have placed him as Rachel’s type.

He is in his late thirties and is several inches shorter than Rachel. He is also rather cuddly (but in a nonfat way) and has a beard. He smiles, and his blue eyes crinkle nicely. He has a kind face.

“Hi,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Hugh. Come on in.”

Well, knock me down with a feather. This is Hugh?

“I’m Emma,” I say, shaking his hand and grinning like an idiot.

“Rachel won’t be a minute, she’s just getting dressed. Come in, come in, I’ll get you some coffee.”

“That would be great,” I say, following him into Rachel’s kitchen. Her cats know instinctively that I am allergic to them, because they immediately start rubbing themselves around my ankles, and I sneeze.

“Bless you,” Hugh says. “They have the same effect on
me. I’m doomed to weekly allergy shots in my butt. The things we do for love.”

Oh.
That’s
interesting.

Oh God, talking of love, what if they were, you know, having sex when I rang the doorbell?

“You sure I’m not interrupting…anything…?” I tail off, because it sounds like I’m suggesting that I’ve just interrupted a bout of hot passion. Because that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.

“No, not at all. We weren’t in bed.” He grins and I blush a little, but grin back. He really does have the kindest face.

“It’s good to meet one of Rachel’s friends,” he says. “I was beginning to think you’re all figments of her imagination. Or that she’s scared you’ll tell me all her secrets, because she won’t let me come to Chez Nous on Sunday nights. Or that you’re all embarrassingly odd. But you look lovely—not an oddness in sight.”

“Why, thank you. So do you.”

“Do not listen to this man,” Rachel tells me from the bedroom door. “He’s an idiot.” She kisses me.

And she is glowing with that rosy hue of someone who’s getting a lot of great sex. I can practically smell the pheromones oozing from her pores.

“Er, hi,” I say. “I’m sorry I missed yoga this morning, I can come back later. Or maybe I should call you.”

“Oh, I missed yoga, too, because—” Rachel pauses, and blushes. They
were
having sex.

“No, don’t stop on my account, honey,” Hugh tells her. “I’ll leave you two girls alone, then you can talk about me in peace. I’ll call you later, Rachel,” he says, then he grabs her and kisses her very thoroughly. “Nice to meet you, Emma.” His blue eyes twinkle. “Maybe she’ll let me meet her other friends, now. I’m really well housetrained.”

“I’m sure you are,” I say, and I cannot help but smile back at him. He’s just really, really infectious. “Nice to meet you, too.”

As soon as the door closes behind him, Rachel turns to me.

“What do you think? Do you like him? Don’t you think he’s cute?”

“Rachel, he’s lovely,” I say, because he seems lovely. “But how did you guys get it together? I thought you hated him.”

“Oh no, I never
hated
him. Not
hated
him, exactly.”

I do not remind her of all our telephone conversations regarding motherfucking, bastard Hugh, because obviously love has given her a selective memory.

“He just sort of—I don’t know. Broke down my barriers, wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s really clever, you know, he has a doctorate, and he’s kind and good-looking….”

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.

“Anyway,” Rachel says, blushing again. “He’s asked me to marry him. And I’ve said yes.”

TO DO

1. Buy tampons.
   
2. Tell Jack to buy condoms.
   
3. Sleep with Jack (after all, will only be following motherly advice as all good daughters should).
   

Friday, August 30

God, is it really only a week since Peri and the boys arrived? It feels like longer.

It feels like an eternity.

Last night, when I got home from the gym (I spend as much time there as I can at the moment so as to arrive home after the boys are safely asleep), Peri was waiting for me.

“Emma, darling,” she says as she places steak and fries in front of me. “You’re so
late.
I was worried about you. Are you really busy at work?”

I mumble a feeble excuse, but Peri isn’t really listening.

Ugh. Peri, bless her, cannot cook anything except steak or burgers and fries. Does she know what red meat does to your veins? Still, if someone takes the trouble to cook you a meal (despite the fact you’ve told them you’ll grab something at the gym), the least you can do is try to pretend to eat it.

I pretend to eat a soggy fry as Peri starts to tell me today’s tale. Because there’s always a tale.

“You know, you must be more careful where you leave your personal stuff,” she says. “The boys were playing upstairs today and they found your tampons. But you shouldn’t leave stuff like that where little ones can stumble across it.”

“Peri, I don’t have kids,” I start. “I don’t—”
need to worry about where I put my stuff,
I nearly say, but don’t because Peri jumps back in.

“Yes, and that’s the problem. I know you don’t have kids, but one day you will, and then you’ll know what I mean. So kindly think about it, will you? I had to make up a story for the twins. I told them that the tampons are for cleaning makeup off your face and I think they bought it.”

“But maybe they shouldn’t, you know, be playing in my room when I’m not there,” I say, cautiously watching her reaction.

“Emma, I don’t have eyes in the back of my head,” she says with an indignant sniff, and I’m sorry I said anything.

“I only let them out of my sight for a couple of minutes, so if you could just make sure you don’t do it again, then we’ll all be much happier. Okay?”

“’Kay,” I say, pushing a bite of steak to one side.

“Good, I’m glad we got that cleared up. Where’s Jack? It’s nearly ten, is he always this late? You’d think he’d make more of an effort to come home early and see the boys, wouldn’t you? He’s just like your dad. Sorry, Emma, but he is. You wouldn’t believe what I had to tell the twins about the king-size box of condoms they found in his bathroom. They thought they were balloons—they opened every single one in the box. Anyway, I’m tired, so I’m going to get an early night. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good-night. Enjoy your meal.”

“Yes. Thank you. Good-night,” I say, then the moment I’m sure she’s upstairs, I empty the food into a supermarket bag and push it to the bottom of the trash.

A king-size box of condoms, huh? Jack obviously has high expectations, sexually speaking. This thought depresses me and I try not to think about Jack and condoms. Or sex.

But this can’t go on. I mean, I know Peri is Jack’s sister, but this is supposed to be my
home.
I
do
pay rent. Okay, so a reduced rent, but I should have
some
say here. Dad has
got
to come and take her home soon or I’ll need therapy. I grab the telephone and punch in the numbers.

“Dad, it’s me,” I say. “When are you and Peri getting back together?”

“Honey, she just won’t listen,” he says. “I
do
love her, you know? And I love the boys. But every time I try to explain to her that she’s setting them on a path to infantile delinquency, she accuses me of child abuse. I’m not saying she should smack them, or anything, but she lets them do exactly what they like.”

“I know,” I say, glumly. Obviously Dad is not going to be a big help here, so we finish our conversation just as Jack lets himself in the back door.

“Is it safe?” he asks.

“Yes. Although your condoms didn’t survive,” I tell him. Oh, I didn’t mean to mention condoms. Not after Friday night. I quickly change the subject before he can make a smart reply.

“Peri’s made you dinner.
Bon appétit.
”

“Not steak again?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do with yours?”

“Hidden at the bottom of the trash can.”

“Good plan.”

“Good-night.”

“Emma?”

Oh God, I hope he’s not going to get too personal. Although mentally harassed by the twins, he’s been back to normal this week. I like old Jack. Old Jack is safe Jack.

“Hmm?” I speak to the door.

There is a long, loaded silence, and then finally he sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Nothing. Good-night.”

This does not make me feel good, so I go to bed and lie awake for hours obsessing about him.

Anyway, I comfort myself, at least work is not stressing me out. This week, Adam has been surprisingly nice to me. He’s very interested in my welfare, because he keeps asking me if everything is okay. And a number of times he’s stopped at my cubicle just for a friendly chat. A kind of “How’s Jack? How did you meet him? You guys are living together then, huh? Oh, great, I’m happy for you,” kind of chat.

So maybe I did let him think Jack and me
are
together. I didn’t lie, or anything, Adam just assumed so I let him assume more.

Lou has kept his distance all week, which is also good. I suspect I have Jack to thank for that. Plus, I think Adam is really pissed with Lou, which is great. But earlier today, Lou was feeling brave (foolish boy—I can’t believe I let him get away with bossing me around before) and tried to get us back onto our old footing. Him Account Manager, me Humble Secretary.

I am just chatting to Angie when Lou comes to my cubicle. He stands there for a couple of minutes as Angie tells me about her plans for the weekend, and finally (but only after we’ve let him suffer), we both turn to look at him.

“Hi, ladies,” he says.

“What can I do for you, Lou?” I ask politely.

“Er, I was just thinking that maybe it’s doughnut time. I’m a little hungry, so—”

“I’d love a doughnut.” I smile. “Would you like one, Angie?”

“Sure. Cinnamon with frosting.”

“Make mine apple.” I smile sweetly. “It’s so nice of you to treat us, Lou, we really appreciate it. Oh, and I’ll have coffee, too—just milk, no sugar.”

“Very nicely done, Emma,” Angie says after Lou heads down to the doughnut store. “You learn quick. See, you just
gotta apply Zen. You just gotta think how you want the situation to turn out, and make it so.”

“Angie, you should give seminars. If ever you decide to do that, I’ll sign Peri up straightaway.” And then I tell her the tale of the tampons and condoms.

God, I wonder what they’ve done today.

I open the front door to chaos. There are papers all over the floor. Jack’s papers. Bank statements, credit-card statements, architect plans…If someone told me a freak tornado had somehow only hit the inside of our house, I would not be surprised.

“Jack, you shouldn’t just leave your papers lying around any old where.” Peri’s loud voice carries from the dining room.

Jack’s home early. It’s only eight. He’s usually on his way to the gym by now. I wish I’d stayed longer, but have been feeling pangs of guilt for avoiding Peri and the boys. They are my family, after all.

“But the point is, I didn’t leave them any old where, Peri. They were in files. In the dining room. On the bookshelf.”

“But your bookshelves are too low.”

“For fuck’s sake, Peri—”

“There’s no need to use language like that. The boys might hear you.”

“Where are the little brats? No doubt wrecking the kitchen. Or my bedroom. Peri, you have got to exercise more control over them—they’re turning into monsters.”

Oh dear, maybe I should just slip upstairs to my room…

Oh. My. God.

“What have you done?” I ask, as I regard the remains of my bedroom. Every item of makeup has been tested on every available surface. My underwear is scattered over the floor. The pink vibrator is currently doing its party piece in Jack Junior’s hand, and Joe Junior has found my Goals by Thirty lists.

“Give them to me.” I lunge for Joe Junior, but he evades
me and makes a break for the door with my papers in his grubby little hands. “And you.” I try for Jack Junior, instead, but he screams so loudly that I stop in my tracks. Anyone would think I’d just beaten him black and blue. While I am still stunned by the decibels he has managed to achieve, he slips down the stairs with my vibrator still vibrating.

This has got to stop. I know they’re only three. But I’m sure I didn’t do this kind of stuff when I was three, Julia wouldn’t have let me. Right, Peri has to sort this out for once and all. I’m going to speak to her. I’ll apply Angie’s Zen advice, that’s what I’ll do.

“Jack Junior, Joe Junior,” I yell as I come running down the stairs. I want blood. But only metaphorically speaking, of course.

“Emma, don’t shout like that, you’ll frighten the twins.” Peri’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. “How did Jack Junior get this?” she demands, wielding the throbbing, pulsating, vibrator (which, I have to add, I have still not used).

“Didn’t I ask you last night to put your personal stuff in a safer place?”

This is so unfair. How come they get to be naughty and I’m the one in trouble? To add insult to injury, Jack appears in the dining-room doorway holding some papers. I think they are
my
papers.

“You should have more consideration. They are your brothers, after all.”

“But they should have some consideration for me, too. My bedroom should be a
safer place,
” I protest. “Can’t you keep them out? They’ve wrecked it. They’ve destroyed every piece of makeup I possess, and my underwear is all over the place.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so difficult,” Peri says, bursting into tears. “If only you knew how hard it is bringing up two children, but you don’t, because you don’t have any—”

“Peri, what Emma means—” Jack, the peacemaker, puts an arm around her shoulders but the lady is not for turning.

“And you,” she says. “You’re just as bad. You hate them, don’t you? And you hate me. I should never have come here.”

Oh God, if this is what Dad has to go through every time he puts his foot down, it’s a wonder he hasn’t had a heart attack. But Peri, ditzy as she is, is usually lovely. So why is she behaving like a bitch to us? She knows we love the boys, and some part of her must realize that she cannot go on like this.

This is good, Emma,
I tell myself,
this is what you should be doing.
Not looking for who to blame, but looking for solutions. I think back to what Angie said about Zen, and wonder how I can apply it to Peri. What would Angie do? What would Julia do?

As Jack tries to comfort the sobbing Peri, and as I am standing on looking, trying to think of a way to comfort the sobbing Peri, I have an epiphany, and I know what I’m going to do.

“Jack, go see what the boys are doing,” I tell him.

“Don’t you hurt my boys!” Peri shrieks.

“Peri, stop this,” I say, in such a firm, commanding voice that she actually does.

“We’re going to find the boys, clean them up, Jack is going to take them to bed and read them a story—”

“I am?”

“Yes, Jack. Don’t interrupt. And then we’re going to talk. Properly, without shouting, without accusations. Okay?”

The twins are halfway through smashing a box of eggs on the kitchen floor.

“No,” I say to Peri. “Don’t say a word. Jack Junior, Joe Junior, stop that
right now.
That’s naughty.” They look at me in disbelief.

But they do stop.

We clean up the mess, the boys are bathed and put to bed (amidst protests, but once Uncle Jack promises a bedtime story to only good boys, they succumb quickly enough), and Peri and I are at the kitchen table. I’m drinking a glass of wine, because I figure I deserve it. Peri is drinking soothing herbal tea.

“Peri,” I begin. “No one hates you. No one hates the twins. But you have to see how badly they behave.”

“But they’re just exploring—”

“Their boundaries. I know. But you haven’t set any for them. Boundaries, I mean. And boundaries are very important to a child.”

“But what do you know about bringing up children?”

“I was a child myself. And Julia was very firm about what I could and could not do, but not to the extent where she discouraged me from exploring my environment. She encouraged me to reach for the sky, if I could get there. So did Dad. And you’re wrong about him, too. He helped to raise me and I don’t think I turned out too badly. A little demented around the edges, maybe,” I say, and Peri gives me a weak grin. I take another gulp of my wine.

“I’m doing it all wrong, aren’t I?” Peri starts to head toward another bout of tears, but I head her off at the pass.

“Not at all. You’re a lovely person, and a good mother.”

“I’m a terrible mother.”

“That’s not true. You’re kind and loving. You just need to be a little more strict with the boys. If they’re good, reward them. If they’re naughty, don’t let them watch television or have play dates. They’re really smart kids. I bet you could turn all their excess energy around into something good, instead of tornado disaster time.”

Then Peri begins to giggle, surprisingly, because I thought she might get pissed at me for giving her advice.

“Oh, Emma, it was so funny when Jack Junior came running into the kitchen with that terrible pink vibrator—”

“Yes, it was,” I say, laughing with her. “You know, I didn’t like them trashing my room the way they did, but at the end of the day, the mess can be cleaned. But what if I’d had something in there they could really hurt themselves with?”

“You’re right,” she tells me, looking tired. “When did you get to be so smart?”

“I’m not smart,” I say. And then, “Peri, is something else worrying you? I mean, I know you’ve had a stressful week and everything, but you’re not yourself at all.”