Sundays at Tiffany's - James Patterson [68]
Four POOR, POOR, POOR JANE! Poor, poor little girl! The next morning, Michael waited outside Jane’s fancy Park Avenue building, as he always did. It was a good thing he was invisible: his wrinkled corduroys, faded yellow golf shirt, and docksiders wouldn’t cut it in this pricey neighborhood. He was thinking about something pretty amazing that Jane had said when she was only four years old. Vivienne had been heading off to Europe for a month. He’d been concerned about how Jane would cope. But Jane had shrugged it off and said, “Love means you can never be apart.” Michael knew he would never forget that — out of a four-year-old’s mouth and brain, no less. But that was Jane, wasn’t it? She was an incredible girl. So what was he going to do with himself on this lovely day while Jane was locked away in school? Maybe a big breakfast over at the Olympia Diner — pancakes, sausage, eggs, keep the buttered rye toast coming. He might even get together with a couple of other imaginary friends who
Five I WILL NEVER FORGET that day, in the same way that someone who survived the Titanic can’t just put it out of her pretty little head. People always remember the worst day of their lives. It becomes part of them forever. So I remember my ninth birthday with piercing clarity. That day after school, Michael and I got ready. Then we went to the theater and sat in our VIP seats for the opening of The Problem with Kansas. I hadn’t seen Vivienne all day, so she hadn’t had a chance to wish me a happy birthday yet. But Michael had met me at school with flowers. I remember how grown-up that made me feel. Those apricot roses were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. I hardly remember the play, but I know that the audience laughed and cried and gasped in all the right places. Michael and I held hands, and I had a fluttering excitement inside my chest. Everything good was about to happen: It was my turn. A birthday party, hopefully a puppy, Michael was with me, my mother would be happy abou
Six GOD, DID I LOVE being hugged. Especially by my dad. He wrapped his arms around me, and I could smell cold air and a faint tinge of his aftershave. I breathed in deeply, so happy and relieved he had come. “You didn’t think I’d forget your ninth birthday?” my father asked. He pulled away from me and tugged on my hand. “Okay, quick, out into the front hall. If your mother finds out that I’ve crashed her party, she’ll flip.” “There’ll be people to catch her if she does,” I said. “But I’m not even sure that she’s still here.” We pushed through the crowd, me holding my dad’s hand, and in the front hall were two surprises: a big box with a yellow ribbon — and my father’s current girlfriend. I remembered Vivienne saying something about Ellie’s chest, and how it wasn’t real, but I had no idea what she was talking about. “You remember Ellie, don’t you, Jane?” Dad asked. “Uh-huh. Hi, Ellie. I’m glad you could come.” Years of etiquette classes were paying off. “Happy birthday, Jane,” she said.
Seven JANE WAS SOBBING on her bed all by herself when he came in. She sure didn’t look like a birthday girl. But then, why would she, poor kid? Michael sighed, then sat down beside her and wrapped his arms around the little girl who didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. No child did. “It’s okay, honey. Let it all out,” he whispered against her hair, which always smelled of Johnson and Johnson’s Baby Shampoo. It was now one of his favorite scents. “Okay. But you asked for