Chapter 17

Jane

When Jane woke up that Wednesday, she was bothered to see a text from Damon.

"We need to talk. Meet me for lunch at the café."

Jane rubbed the sleep from her eyes and read that two more times to be sure she wasn't dreaming. "Brilliant," she muttered. "He knows."

As soon as she was more awake and getting ready for work, she texted back that she would make time for him as a favor. Truth was that Jane didn't have any plans for the lunch hour. With Rebecca in Iowa, Jane had rearranged the business's schedule so they weren't talking to clients or seeing new presentations for at least a fortnight. There was too much going on. At least I had the foresight for that. For all the wrong reasons… Like her niece needing supervision.

Cecelia was already up and making herself breakfast of a grapefruit and granola in yogurt. Every time Jane thought That's not enough food! she was reminded that she often just ate the grapefruit and nothing more. So, what room did she have to talk? She was a hypocrite!

God knew Cecelia already thought that about her anyway.

"I've got model nations after class today." Cecelia gruffly said while she cut through her grapefruit. Jane started a pot of coffee, forgetting that there wasn't at least one other person to share it with her that day. Cecelia didn't like to drink coffee in the morning, preferring a hot cup of earl grey if she had any caffeine at all. "So I won't be home until seven. Lydia's mom has already said she'll drop me off."

"Who is Lydia?"

"A girl I'm kinda friends with in MUN."

Jane leaned against the counter. "Model nations, you said?"

"Ya." Cecelia placed her grapefruit slices into the same bowl she used every day, whether it was freshly cleaned or not. "Remember? I joined the Model United Nations as my extracurricular this year."

"Ah, yes, that. Of course it's fine."

"Good, because I can't miss practice. My alliance is currently dithering between trading or starting war with another. I'm an important vote." She slammed the bowl on the dining table. "I want war."

"Remind me again what country you are? Does it start with an R?"

Cecelia shoved her phone in her face so Jane couldn't see her. "I got Canada."

"Canada! I always knew they had it in them."

"Whatever."

It was Jane's turn to cut a grapefruit. "Just be home by seven. I should be here. Let me know if you're late for some reason."

"Oh, so it's okay if Lydia's mom's car breaks down or if practice runs over? I won't burn in Buddhist or Christian hell if I'm here ten minutes past seven?"

"So dramatic. It's too early for this."

Jane also had too much on her mind. While she didn't have any meetings that morning, she needed to get to the office on time if she wanted to stay on top of her work and have a discussion with her HR about upcoming time offs and possibly hiring another assistant. All things Caitlyn reminded her of in their call the day before. She also told me to go easy on Cece. Like I'm not already. Jane was well aware of how much harsher she could be!

"Ugh! Ew!" Cecelia dropped her phone on the table. "Mom's calling me!"

Jane's hand almost slipped on her knife. "So? Answer it."

Cecelia took it into the other room, far away from Jane's prying ears.

Yet she soon returned when Jane was in the middle of her grapefruit and coffee at the dining table. Before her very acidic breakfast had a chance to settle, Cecelia handed her the phone. "Mom wants to talk to you," she said. When Jane took it, her niece continued to mouth, "Do not tell her about you know what."

"Yes, hello, jie jie? How are you doing?"

"Jaaaane! Doesn't my daughter sound absolutely cosmopolitan?"

"Very ladylike, Lilian. Forgive me, I'm eating my breakfast."

"Oh, this is a quick check-in. I'll let you get back to your day in a few minutes."

"Good, because I've got quite the day ahead of me, Lil."

Jane barely had more food in her mouth before Lilian said, "Cece tells me that you're taking her to New York this weekend. How exciting!"

"Yes, that's the plan. It's for Caitlyn's little thing."

"Ooh, the pageant! She told me about it last month! Send her my best regards!"

"Yes, that's the one. We have tickets and I promised Cecelia she could come watch her Aunt Caitlyn win the Mrs. United States of America Pageant. We're all very excited for her."

"Will it be on TV? I would love to watch it."

"I'm sure it's being broadcasted somewhere, but I couldn't tell you where."

Cecelia hovered near the table, keeping an eye on her aunt. Don't worry, I'm not telling her a thing. Jane maintained awkward eye contact with her niece to make her uncomfortable.

"Lovely! Kisses!"

When the call was over, Jane handed back the phone. "Like I said, don't give me a reason to tell your mother anything, and I won't."

Cecelia snatched the phone. "Whatever."

Jane let her go. That could have gone worse. She liked telling herself that.

By "café" Damon meant the soup and sandwich place in his building. He had a private room there to host business lunches without leaving his office, and Jane admitted that the grub there wasn't… terrible. Especially if it was on Damon's dime.

But this wasn't a pleasure call. Damon was on to her, and Jane had to fess up before he hit her where it hurt.

Except when she sat down, witnessing the heavy, level gaze he kept locked on her, she crumbled. If only because he looked like such a dad, and that was what Jane needed right now.

"Whoa, whoa." Whatever fa?ade he had erected to protect himself from her usual charms couldn't last three more seconds once Jane hid a sob behind the back of her knuckles. "Look, it's not that serious. I just want to know what she's planning and if we should jump on the penthouse. Come on. Jane. What the hell."

She regained her composure after dabbing the cloth napkin against her eyes. "Brilliant," she muttered. "Haven't cried in front of you since I got divorced."

The waiter entered. Damon motioned five minutes to him. Nodding, the waiter disappeared out of the room.

"What's wrong?" Damon asked. "Is it Caitlyn?"

He would think that. It had been Caitlyn before, after all. "Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?" She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. "You must think I am insane."

"Sort of. But you don't act like this usually, so it must be serious."

"I suppose. It is starting to hit me that I have signed on to be a parent, and I had no idea that was what was happening when I agreed to take in my niece until she finishes her upper schooling at Winchester Academy. Sure, she wants to go to Harvard, but where does that leave Aunt Jane for the next two and a half years? Christ. I am an idiot."

"I'd say ‘parenting is hard,' but you started at the hard level. I imagine a baby is a lot easier than a teenager."

"Says the man with two babies and another on the way."

"Yes, and my seven-year-old is already a handful. I haven't even told you what's going on at school now."

Jane was curious, but didn't have the gumption to steer away from her own problems. "Let me ask you something. A hypothetical."

Damon settled into his seat, releasing any of the tension he had greeted one of his oldest friends with in what should have been an intense interrogation. "All right. But I feel like I might regret this."

Probably. "Imagine that your daughter is fifteen."

"Uh-huh…"

Sure, he knew where this was going. So, how could Jane ruin him some more? "She asks if she can go hang out with her female friends from school. You say sure honey! She goes. But you find out later that she is really hanging out with some bloke you have never met! So you go to his house where you find your daughter and this boy – who is eighteen, mind you – about to bump uglies. How do you react long term?"

The waiter returned. This time, Damon was so adamant with his hand gestures that Jane had a feeling the man wouldn't return for ten minutes this time.

"Be honest, please," Jane said.

"I'd kill him."

She sighed. "Yes, yes, you are Sir Alpha Dad who has a shotgun or an AR-15 or whatever you Americans keep in your lockboxes so we all know your daughter actually belongs to you, purity ball and all, but what do you realistically do in this situation? After you are done grounding her for life and making sure this boy sees his existence flash before his eyes in the safest, most legal way possible."

Damon's eyes were still wide and whirling with whatever horrible fantasy he had cooked up in his head while Jane was speaking. Probably does not appreciate the image of his daughter in this position. Good job, Jane. When would she stop traumatizing those around her?

"Is this what happened with Cecelia? Good God, Jane."

"Please focus. I'm asking what you would do if this was your daughter. How would you deal with this with her?"

"I'd have her mother deal with it."

"Let's pretend in this scenario that you have no other parents to fall back on. Everyone you usually foist her on is gone. It is all you, mate. You have to be the dad who deals with the fact that his girl is making whoopee with some of the boys in town."

"What happened to my wife? Is she dead in this scenario?"

"Focus, Damon! I am asking for advice in a very roundabout way!"

"Well… realistically." His heavy breath of reluctant acceptance was a good sign, right? "There's not much you can do in this situation. It has happened. Even if you could go back and take it back, what's the point? As parents, we know that our children are going to… er, experiment. Probably. Most probably want to do that, like we did at that age."

"Hormones and such. I remember well."

"I'm sure we had very different experiences, Jane, but yes."

"Hmph. We were both being a dad's worst nightmare but for different reasons."

"If I had to talk to my daughter about this… hypothetical situation." He crossed his arms on the table, bringing himself closer to Jane in a way that suggested they were in a darkened, relaxing lounge more than his personal interrogation chamber. Boy, did I turn this on its head, or what? "There's only one thing I could do. I would have to tell her the truth."

"What? That boys are poison and a girl must be careful to not get her heart broken?"

"That's what I would want to say, yes. But it goes against what I told myself when my daughter was born, which is that our relationship would be more important than anything else. I never wanted to be like my own father. If he had a daughter, he would burn every bridge possible to keep her under his thumb. We're talking about a man who hated Alice because she was poor."

"Yes, yes, he hated me because I'm Asian." Jane had met the man more than once. Even when she was introduced as "just a friend" Russell Monroe made it clear that he hated his son hanging out with "one of them" in case it did turn romantic. He couldn't conceive a universe where men and women really are only friends. Jane conveniently left out the relationship she did have with Damon after her divorce. Short, but made a point. Now I wish that old asshole knew!

"He was obsessed with good genes, yes. The man tried to arrange a marriage between myself and Eva Warren, you may remember."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Never mind. We're off track."

"Yes, thank you for reminding me that there is an issue at hand." Damon rapped his knuckles against the table to get his thoughts together. "I would tell my daughter that I am here for her if she wants to talk or ask any questions. I would tell her that we can do whatever we need to do to make sure she's safe while she figures herself out. Her safety and health are the highest priority, but so is her trust in me, her father. I want to be a good male role model for all of my children. For my daughter, that means teaching her that there are men she can trust, no matter how much it makes me uncomfortable. I signed up for this when I became a father."

"Yes…" Some of those words certainly rang true to Jane. "I signed up for it too. I simply didn't think this would happen so soon. At least not in my face like this. Literally in my face."

"I do not envy you this experience."

"Nor should you! I was having a nice dinner when this all unfolded. But…" She ran her hand over her hair, simultaneously fixing any errant strays while assuaging her nerves. "Thank you. That's what I needed to hear from someone who is actually a parent." And not my silly, absentee sister. Or Jane's old-fashioned mother for that matter. Someone she trusted. Someone who lived in the same world as her.

This time when the waiter respectfully poked his head in, Damon motioned for him to proceed. He ordered his usual, and when Jane shrugged when he asked what she wanted, ordered on her behalf. As usual, he knows what I like. Plenty of vegetables, light on the meat, medium on the carbs. She supposed that was part of what made them friends.

"Now, then…" There he was! The man who had stared her down when she entered. "Tell me what Monica Warren is planning. I know you've been to Warren Manor to meet her, and I know that you're planning on investing in the expansion of Le Salon. But I want to know what she's planning. This is important. I don't like it when rivals have the upper hand with friends."

She didn't know if she should be grateful for the total change in subject or throw her water in his face. At least one sounded fun.

Cecelia came through the door at 7:05, tiptoeing past Jane in the living room where she watched TV and scrolled through her phone. Jane thought about making a jest about her niece being five minutes late but refrained. Now was not the time for jokes.

"Did you have supper yet?" Jane asked.

Cecelia stopped halfway to her room. "No."

"Me neither. How about I order us some Indian curry? There is a spot down the block."

Her niece shrugged. "I like mine spicy."

"Two spicy curries, coming right up."

Jane continued the pleasantries as Cecelia sat with her for dinner, asking about the model UN, if they had started their mock war, and if there were any things Cecelia would like to see during their short weekend in New York. They wouldn't have much time for sight-seeing, but Jane knew that her niece definitely wanted to do something touristy, be it Times Square or the Empire State Building.

When a Broadway show was requested, Jane said she would see what she could do without intending to do anything about it. Like we have time for that, love. But she would put it in her back pocket. New York City wasn't that far away.

She didn't bring up what had happened. Nor did she talk about Cecelia still being grounded for the foreseeable future. Jane kept thinking back on what Damon had said during his ambush lunch. "Our relationship is the most important thing." Or something like that.

He was right. It didn't matter how much experience, knowledge, or cynicism Jane had gone through to know what she did in her forties. Cecelia was a teenager. A spoiled one. She was going to make mistakes, have some hardships, and learn things about herself in the most painful way possible. She didn't need Willow's heavy-handed lectures and tough love. Nor did she need Lilian's frivolous ability to see herself as her child's friend more than a parent. What she needed was someone she trusted enough to go to when she was in trouble… or even had an uncomfortable question.

Because I'm not her mom, anyway. Jane had taken on the mantle of guardian, but this was still someone else's daughter. My job is to keep her alive and sane. But if she could offer something else…

Cecelia went to take a shower and do her homework in her room. Jane mulled over what she wanted to say while cleaning up the dining table and kitchen. After changing into her pajamas, she gathered the courage to knock on her niece's door.

"What?" came a disinterested voice.

Jane tried the handle. "Can we talk for a bit?" she asked before entering.

She caught a look from the bed. Cecelia was hovering over her English textbook, feet tapping together in the air while her long hair air dried on a towel wrapped around her shoulders.

"I guess. Are you gonna be mad at me?"

"No, love." Jane left the door ajar when she entered. Not like anyone else is here. It would give her an easier escape if she had to go. "Just have a few things on my mind. I hope I am not interrupting your studies."

Cecelia shrugged. "I am reading a short story for class. We have a quiz on it tomorrow."

"Which one?"

"It's called ‘The Lottery' by Shirley Jackson."

"My… that is… a bit heavy, innit?"

"I've read better."

"Ah…" Jane approached the bed. Without another word, Cecelia sat up, pushing her book aside to make room for her aunt to sit next to her. "I want to apologize for how I acted this weekend. That was unhelpful."

Although Cecelia stared at her, she didn't say anything.

"I want to make you a deal. Will you hear me out?"

Still, Cecelia said nothing. Jane took that as an affirmative.

"You have your business with dating and boys and all that. All I ask is that you do not lie to me about it. If you want to go out with a boy, tell me. I do not have to meet him, but a name would be nice. I need to know who you are with in case the unthinkable happens. Trust me, I remember feeling invincible all the time, like I knew perfectly well the people I was mates with, but you never know. You could be with the best person in the world and something terrible happens to you both. I am your guardian, Cece. I have to know who you are with."

"Okay…"

"But I need some peace of mind if you are going out with boys and being quite mature with them. So, I will take you to the doctor and you can ask them all that uncomfortable rubbish about contraception. Whatever kind you want. Just know that you still should be using condoms, because STDs are…"

"Ew. Oh, my God." Cecelia could not sound more American if she tried. "Okay, okay. Gross. Just stop talking about it."

"Not until you emphatically agree to listen to your aunt Jane about this one thing."

"I will!"

"Ya, then. I think you should also take a self-defense course. It is common sense here."

"Sure."

"That was easy."

Cecelia pulled her comforter over her head. "I want this conversation to kindly end."

"Oh, come on, it is not that bad."

"Like, what do you even know about this stuff? Birth control? You're a neoi tung! It was one of the first things the family taught me about you!"

"Congratulations," Jane delivered in deadpanned English. "I do not think even your grandmother has ever said that word with such… conviction." And Willow had said every Cantonese (and Mandarin!) variant of lesbian there was under the sun. Even the ugly ones! "Anyway, there is a lot you do not know about me. Things your family does not know about me either. Just because I am gay does not mean I do not know a thing or two about what goes on with… the straight people."

"Wow. Very compelling response, Auntie."

"Call me ‘Auntie' in English one more time, and I will rescind all of my other offers."

"Uh-huh."

"Look…" Jane wondered where her breath went. How was she going to power herself through this without oxygen in her poor, winded brain? "I have been in a relationship with a man before. I dare say one much more intense than you have yet to experience. No offense." She had seen what her niece was about to get up to on Saturday night and could only laugh once she detached her emotions from the situation. You deserve better, dear. Most girls Cecelia's age didn't know that though. That was what "cool" aunts like Jane were for, but only if she knew how to deliver such sought after knowledge. "I am not speaking from my arse when I say I know a few things."

"You?" was all Cecelia could say.

"Yes."

"When you were my age?"

"No."

Cecelia was stunned silent again.

Whatever god exists, do not let me regret telling someone in my family this. "It was after my divorce with your aunt Caitlyn. Long before we got back together. I rebounded – quite momentously, let me tell you – with one of my male friends." She would die before saying who. Cecelia had met Damon before, after all. Suppress the full-body shudder, Jane. This is not the time. "Believe it or not, I experienced all of that for the first time in my thirties."

"Really? That's so old."

Suppress. All. Movements. "Only to you."

"Wow." Cecelia let the comforter fall off her head, half-dry hair tangling on top of her head. "I had no idea."

"Why would you know about that? Nobody in our family knows." Jane pointed a stiff finger in her niece's direction. "So, you cannot tell anyone. Do you understand? Just like it is for the best that I do not tell anyone in the family about what is going on with you. Not unless you force my hand, Cece."

She drove a dangerous bargain with her niece, but Jane had a good feeling. Offer her something, right? If this was more of an exchange than a one-way deal, then Cecelia might get over the anger she felt. Maybe they could repair this relationship sooner rather than later.

Or, at least, Jane desperately hoped.

"If you want to talk to an adult about boys, though." Jane got up before her niece groaned in anxiety. "Try Becca. She is a lot less skittish about the subject than I am. I would say it is that unrepentant American upbringing, but… well, she can tell you. If she wants."

"Am I still grounded?"

"Of course you are still bloody grounded. You still lied to me. But… after we get back from New York this weekend, we will discuss the terms of your grounding. I am not here to keep you from having fun and making friends in a different country."

"No, you're here to make sure I don't get in trouble."

"At least you understand it, even if it's reluctantly."

She left the door ajar again when she ducked back into the hallway. Jane hustled toward the kitchen before she lost the nerve to congratulate herself on handling that like a pro. Because she preferred to do that in private.

"I might actually kinda know what I am doing, loves!" she texted her group chat. "Old Jane is a competent parent in some parallel universe."

Caitlyn congratulated her. Rebecca had no idea what was going on. Jane took whatever worked.