Background
Rachelle Allen and Gretchen Hargis are on their way to the FanStory Writers' convention in Atlantic City when they get detoured.
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So far, Rachelle Allen and Gretchen Hargis are on their way to the FanStory Writers' Convention in Atlantic City when Hargis's car breaks down. Unable to contact help, they stay with an Amish family for a few days. Both learn a lot about themselves and others, and when help finally arrives, they think they are home free. But, another "new" member of FanStory joins them on the last leg of their journey. After one detour they find themselves in the midst of another.
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It was fun shopping with Rebekah. Unlike my own girls, who had their own sense of style and would politely turn their noses up at my fashion advice, Rebekah was open to suggestions. I noticed she was drawn to the bright colors. I waited for her to correct me on my mention of colors. Being color blind, lighting has everything to do with what I perceive a color to be. But she didn't. She absorbed what ever I told her.
As we walk back to find Rachelle in the food court at the designated time, Rebekah is smiling ear to ear. "You look so cute," I tell her. "I'll bet all the boys around are crushing on you."
A deep pink sneaks onto her cheeks and she shakes her head. "It's not time for that yet."
I nod. I never knew there was a time for young love. I always thought it just happened. As we round the corner into the food court, I wince. I can hear that nasal drawn out voice of her. Jaaannnee. I shiver. I push the thought of being cut to shreds by the scythe wielding Amish man out of my head. Now, the horror that pushes into the forefront of my mind is being stuck in the car with this nincompoop.
I wave at Rachelle and she looks like a trauma victim. There is a stress induced smile on her face. It is only her mouth that smiles, Rachelle's eyes are intense. "Thank you," I mouth. "Doesn't she look adorable?" I call out and wave my hand over Rebekah.
Rachelle bites her knuckle and I swear it looks like she's going to cry. I glance at Jane. She isn't looking at Rebekah, no, she is looking at Rachelle. I watch as she mimics Rachelle and bites her knuckle. Something odd is happening and I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's enough for me to know, Jane is not like us. If Jane is playing cards, she definitely isn't playing with a full deck.
We go off in different directions for food. Rachelle is intent on loading Rebekah up on experiences in the short time we have before we drop her off to the vocal coach. Poor Rebekah, a mall food court is going to be her experience of eating in the English world. I head to Chic Fil A, while the others head to others establishments.
Jane has grabbed a table for us. When I reach for the chair next to her she shakes her head. "This is for Rachelle."
"Quick question, Jane. Are we in middle school? You're saving a seat for your new BFF?"
Jane scowls. "I'm being nice. Surely, you understand that. Here you are, driving her nice car, spending her money on that girl. I'm a nice person. Rachelle is a nice person. We connect. She's like a friend that I've known forever."
I press my lips together and think civil thoughts. It's either that or I picture myself curling my fingers into a ball and hitting Jane right in the nose. I wouldn't do it, but in my head, the food court would be cheering and throwing flowers at my feet. "You don't like me much, though , do you?" I ask, as I squeeze the special sauce for the fries onto the paper wrapper. I don't make eye contact. What's the point? There is a disconnect somewhere behind those eyes. I'm almost afraid I might get sucked into a vortex of crazy.
"I never said that. But you, you're different. We just don't have much in common. Rachelle and I we hit it off the first time we saw each other." She smiles wistfully and looks across the food court to where Rachelle and Rebekah are waiting for their orders.
"You mean when you saw her walk behind her cousin on the zoom call?"
"I told you, you wouldn't understand. It's like one of my poems," she says with a fevered excitement as she digs into her bag for her notebook. "Listen to this. Thrusting, lusting, busting with urgency. Two bodies melding into one. I clutch, tense flesh, drawn to your words that you whisper into my ear."
I choke on the sip of Coke I had just taken. "Whoa, I'm eating Chic Fil A, for goodness sake. That's almost like being in church. Maybe save the poetry for the convention."
She shuts the notebook and shoves it back in the bag. "You're uncomfortable with sexuality, aren't you?"
"If I am, does that mean you won't read your poetry anymore?"
She nods. "Not around you, anyway."
I nod my head vigorously. "Then yes, I am very uncomfortable with anything sexual."
I high five myself in my mind.
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Rachelle takes us to a music store, where you guessed it, Jane decides to try out all of the instruments. She has no concept that she is bothering anyone. She is in a world of her own, and I bet none of the inhabitants there like her either.
I'm not much of a shopper and Rachelle now drags us to a high dollar dress store. Granted, if I didn't live at the beach, maybe I would be interested in these things, but even weddings at the beach are casual. So, after looking at one or two things, I find a nice cozy chair and call home.
"Can you come get me," I whisper as soon as Chuck answers.
"What's wrong?"
"We have a stow-away. I'm gonna kill her. She is so obnoxious."
"Wait, the girl? Is that who you are talking about?"
"No. Rachelle's cousin brought a woman with her when she brought Rachelle's car. This woman is certifiable. She writes dirty poetry. It isn't even good dirty poetry."
I smile when I hear him laugh. "Read some to me, let me be the judge of that."
"Absolutely not." I sigh as I see them finishing up at the register. "So, you aren't coming to get me?"
"No. Ignore that looney tunes and have fun. You've wanted to go to this convention for a long time. I love you. Call me if you need to."
Rachelle and Rebekah come towards me an I watch as Jane heads to the register empty handed. She hands the sales girl her credit card and after a few minutes she comes sauntering up. "Boy, oh boy, do I have a fun surprise for you," she squeezes Rachelle in an embrace.
"Bigger than that surprise?" Rachelle says and wriggles free of Jane's grasp.
Jane winks. "You're going to love it. I promise."
Karma is a weird thing. What on earth did either Rachelle or I do to have this woman join us? I'm gonna think about it and pray about, I can guarantee that.
Author Notes
Janes are all around us. Someone who copies you, puts you on a pedestal, or decides to make your life a living hell. You'd like to blame karma, but the truth is karma has nothing to do with it. Most of the times, you really have nothing to do with it. These people, the Janes, latch on to you. Yes, I do high five myself sometimes. (Like when my colonoscopy was cancelled. High five!!)
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