Jane Goes Batty

Chapter 21

“Knock Knock.”

Ben Cohen looked up from his desk to see Jane standing in the doorway of his office. He smiled at her and waved her in.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Jane apologized as she took a seat across from him. “Do you have some time to talk?”

Ben nodded. “I’ll make time,” he said as he shut the book he’d been perusing. “Have you come to talk more about conversion? I sort of got the impression that was off the table.”

“It is,” Jane said. “For now, anyway. I want to talk about relationships.”

Ben smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Any one in particular?”

“Let’s say it’s a hypothetical one,” said Jane.

Ben nodded. “We can do that,” he said.

Jane folded her hands in her lap and stared at them, trying to decide how to begin. Although both she and Ben knew that they were about to talk about her and Walter’s relationship, Jane wasn’t ready to use their names. In part this was because she was embarrassed, but more than that, it allowed her to pretend they weren’t talking about her and Walter. That made it easier for her to ask the questions she needed to ask, as she could pretend they were discussing other people, or characters in a book.

“Let’s say that you love someone,” she began. “And that someone loves you back.”

“You think this person loves you back, or you know for sure?” asked Ben.

“You’re quite certain about it,” Jane said. “He—this person—has told you so.”

“Got it,” said Ben. “Go on.”

“You want to be with this person,” Jane continued. “In fact, you know that being together will make you very happy.” She paused a moment. “But you also know that being together will ultimately cause this person a great deal of misery.”

“How can you know something like that?” asked Ben.

“You just do,” said Jane. “Let’s say there’s something about yourself that the other person doesn’t know, and that if he—if the other person found out, it would make that person very unhappy.”

Ben leaned back in his chair. “What kind of thing might this be?” he asked.

Jane, feeling very uncomfortable, cleared her throat. “Does it matter?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Ben. “For instance, let’s say this thing is something you—and I’m using you hypothetically here—have done. Committed a crime and spent time in jail, for example. You’re afraid that if your partner finds out about this, he—and again I’m being hypothetical—will be horrified and think badly of you. That’s one kind of problem. But your problem might be something bigger, something more—ongoing, for lack of a better word.”

“Ongoing,” Jane repeated. “Ongoing how?”

“That you have a child you never mentioned,” said Ben. “Or that you’re addicted to something or have a gambling problem. Anything that isn’t limited by time.”

“I still don’t see how it matters,” Jane said.

“Events in the past—isolated things we’ve done that might be upsetting to a partner—are generally easier to accept,” Ben explained. “Especially if they occurred before the relationship began. But an issue that’s ongoing, that is in some way still occurring, that’s often more difficult to handle. We can’t compartmentalize it and say, ‘Okay, this happened in the past but it’s over now and my partner isn’t the same person who did that thing.’ Instead, we’re now looking at this partner as someone we never really knew at all.”

“Wouldn’t that happen in either case?” said Jane.

“Possibly, but often no,” Ben replied. “We’re far more likely to forgive things in our partners that happened in the past.”

“Time heals all wounds,” said Jane.

“Or in this case, time makes it possible to accept nasty surprises. So which situation are we dealing with here?”

“Ongoing,” Jane told him. “Well, a little of both, actually. But mostly ongoing.”

“And this thing—whatever it is—is something the partner won’t be able to handle?”

Jane thought about this. Could Walter handle finding out she was a vampire? She suspected he could, or at least he would think he could. And maybe for a time things would be fine. But what would happen when the perceived age difference between them became obvious? Then how would he feel about being with her?

Jane suddenly realized that she’d been asking the wrong question. Yes, Walter was the one who would have to accept something about her he could never have imagined. But she would be the one left alone when he died, as he inevitably would. In some ways he would live out his life as he always would have, except that his wife would never age. But it was Jane who would be left with the loss of him, Jane who had to watch everyone she loved leave her over and over again.

There was, however, another option.

“You know the story of Beauty and the Beast, don’t you?” she asked Ben.

“Of course,” he said. “It’s one of Sarah’s favorites.”

“What does she like about it?” asked Jane.

“She likes that Beauty sees that the Beast is really a good man,” he said.

Jane nodded. “Exactly. Now let me ask you this—how would she feel if instead of the Beast becoming a prince because Beauty loves him, Beauty became a beast? They would still live happily ever after, but Beauty would be someone that others were afraid of.”

“I don’t think she’d like that very much,” said Ben. “The whole idea is that love sees what others can’t, the real us beneath the dirt and grime.”

“Sure,” Jane said. “But if the two beasts love each other, isn’t that all that matters? Can’t beasts have happily ever after without becoming princes or princesses?”

“I guess Shrek and Fiona kind of have that,” said Ben.

“Who?” Jane asked.

“Sorry,” said Ben, laughing. “You probably don’t get dragged to a lot of animated movies. Shrek is an ogre who falls in love with a beautiful princess. Long story short, she’s under a curse that turns her into an ogre at night. Only true love’s kiss can break the spell. Eventually Shrek kisses her and the spell is broken. But instead of returning to her human form Fiona remains an ogre. She’s horrified, but Shrek tells her she’s beautiful and she realizes that his love for her is all she’s ever really wanted.”

“But everyone else still thinks she’s hideous, right?” said Jane.

Ben shrugged. “Some of them,” he said. “But not everyone.”

Jane sighed. “That’s the problem right there,” she said. “Even if the person you love accepts the real you, you haven’t changed who you are. Just ask King Kong. Fay Wray came to love him, but he still fell off the Empire State Building.”

“Jane, whatever it is you’re worried about, I’m sure you and Walter can get through it,” Ben said.

Jane smiled. “So much for being hypothetical,” she said.

“I haven’t known you long,” Ben told her. “But I think I can safely say that there’s nothing about you that the right man couldn’t accept.”

“How can you say that?” Jane said. “For all you know I might have murdered a family of five by mixing ant paste into their tea.”

“Did you?” asked Ben.

Jane shook her head. “No,” she said. “I lured them one by one into the woods and bashed their heads in with a rock.”

Ben laughed. “Look, whatever it is you think Walter won’t be able to accept, the only way you’re going to find out is if you tell him what it is. May I ask, have you told anyone?”

Jane thought about Lucy. “Yes,” she said.

“And does he or she still accept you?”