Mary Jane by Jessica Blau (debian ebook reader TXT) 📗

“Bonnie, please.” Dr. Cone lifted his hands and dropped them, palms down, as if he were dribbling two basketballs.

“We agreed, no fooling around while you’re getting sober,” Sheba said. I thought about this. Was Jimmy allowed to fool aroundwith other women when he wasn’t getting sober?

“And no fooling around with gossipy social climbers like Beanie Jones!” Mrs. Cone said.

“Bonnie!” Sheba said. “He is my husband. He has an open marriage with me, not you! I agree with you about Beanie Fuckface Jones, but I don’t understand what your fucking stake is in this. Are youtwo making love? Have you been sleeping with my husband?”

The words open marriage echoed in my head. What exactly did that mean? Did Sheba have sex with other people? Did they discuss it beforehand? Did they report to each other what had happened afterward? I could barely admit my sex addiction in group therapy and Sheba had just blurted out “open marriage” as if it were no big deal!

“Of course Bonnie and I aren’t making love! That’s fucking absurd!” Jimmy said, and Mrs. Cone’s eyes flashed like she’d beenslapped.

“Bonnie?” Dr. Cone looked at his wife. “What is your stake in this?”

Mrs. Cone dropped her head for a second, like she needed to gather air or courage or maybe just the strength to lift her head.When she finally did, she said, “It’s just, God, I don’t know. Jimmy and Sheba are ours, they belong to us! And . . . and . . . I don’t know, I sort of feel like Jimmy betrayed us, too.”

“You need to detach,” Dr. Cone said. “It’s not your marriage.”

“And you need to not fuck Beanie Fuckface Jones,” Sheba said to Jimmy.

“I don’t want to be with anyone but you, baby.” Jimmy stared at Sheba. “I don’t even want to have an open marriage. I onlyagreed because you wanted it.” The idea that Sheba had pushed for the open marriage more than Jimmy knocked around in my brain.I’d always thought men wanted sex more than women. But maybe that was as wrong as the ideas that Jewish people were untrustworthyor Black people should “know their place.”

“Oh, baby, I love you so much!” Sheba was tearing up. And then she and Jimmy leaned in toward each other and started kissing.With tongues. Dr. Cone, Mrs. Cone, and I all watched.

Dr. Cone caught my eye and he said, “Mary Jane, are you okay with everything that’s come out here tonight? Do you have any questions about any of this?”

“Um . . .” I did, but I wasn’t sure I should ask.

Dr. Cone nodded at me, and then he stared at Jimmy and Sheba until they stopped kissing and looked at me too.

“So. Uh. Does Beanie Jones have an open marriage too?” Was the world full of people whose lives were entirely different thanwhat I had imagined?

“Nah.” Jimmy shook his head.

“It’s just ’cause it’s Jimmy.” Mrs. Cone appeared to be talking to the sand. “Women will do anything for the chance to makelove to Jimmy.”

“Bonnie!” Sheba said. “What the fuck? Are you in love with my husband?!”

Mrs. Cone pulled up her head and stared at Sheba. “What did you say?” It seemed like she was stalling for time.

“Are you in love with my husband?” Sheba said each word precisely, like she had to put air around the syllables and give themspace.

“Well, who isn’t, Sheba?” Mrs. Cone looked around vaguely, somehow not making eye contact with any of us, and then said, “Imean, I’m not saying I’d fool around with him. But I want your life. I want to spend a month at Cap-Eden-Roc in southern France!I want to go to Muscle Shoals and make a record and drink whiskey in the studio until six in the morning! I want to hang outwith Lowell George and Linda Ronstadt and Graham Nash! I want to spend ten thousand dollars on clothes and carry an alligatorhandbag picked up at the Marché aux Puces in Paris and eat in all the best restaurants . . . and I want—I want—”

“What the fuck do you want, Bonnie?” Sheba’s voice had an sharp, impatient edge.

Mrs. Cone said, “I want to be in a marriage where we want to kiss each other like you two just did. I want to be with someone who’s so passionate he’s bordering on insane. I want to be with someone who will call me baby and cry for me and look at me the way Jimmy looks at you. I don’t want to be a doctor’s wife living in Baltimore. I . . .I just want more than this.” Mrs. Cone dropped her head and started crying.

None of us spoke. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Dr. Cone. Finally he said, “Are you saying you don’t want to be marriedto me?”

“I think I drank too much.” Mrs. Cone stood, turned, and then started vomiting in the sand. Dr. Cone rushed to her. He heldher thick red hair back with one hand and put his other hand on her shoulder so she didn’t nose-dive as she barfed.

Sheba took my hand and pulled me to standing. Jimmy stood too and the three of us quietly walked away.

I followed Jimmy and Sheba into the kitchen. Jimmy turned on the tap, leaned over it, and took a few dog laps. Sheba sat atthe table. She looked at me and patted the chair beside hers.

“Do we have any Zonkers?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah, in the cupboard,” I said. “I’ll get them.”

“I got ’em.” Jimmy opened the cupboard, and I sat on the chair beside Sheba.

Jimmy brought the Zonkers to the table and sat across from me and Sheba. After he took a handful from the box, he passed itto me. I took a huge handful, the size of a throwing snowball. Sheba reached into the box and did the same.

“Shit.” Jimmy reached for the box. He took another handful.

“I know.” Sheba took the box back from him. She dumped a pile of Zonkers out on the table.

“I mean what the fuck?” Jimmy grabbed the box again.

“What the fuck is right. Poor Richard.”

“Do you think Mrs.