“Exact
ly,” I said, tugging the little Napoleonic diamond napkin holders that the prime minister of France had given me for Christmas out from beneath Fat Louie, who had laid down inside my suitcase, I guess in the mistaken belief that I was packing, not unpacking, and he wanted to try to stop me from going away again. “See, Jane didn’t chase Mr. Rochester, she let him chase her. And so Tina and I, we’ve both taken solemn vows that we are going to be just like Jane.”
Unlike Grandmère, my mom didn’t look happy to hear this.
“But Jane Eyre was so mean to poor Mr. Rochester!” she cried.
I didn’t mention that this was what I had thought, too… at first.
“Mom,” I said, very firmly. “What about the whole keeping Bertha locked up in the attic thing?”
“Because she was a lunatic,” my mom pointed out. “It wasn’t like they had psychotropic drugs back then. Keeping Bertha locked in the attic was kinder, really, than sending her to a mental hospital, considering what they were like during that era, with people chained to the walls. Really, Mia. I swear I don’t know where you get half your ideas. Jane Eyre? Who told you about Jane Eyre?”
“Um,” I said, stalling because I knew my mom wasn’t going to like the answer. “Grandmère.”
My mom’s lips got so thin, they completely disappeared.
“I should have known,” she said. “Well, Mia, I think it is commendable that you and your friends have decided not to chase boys. However, if a boy leaves a nice message on the answering machine like Michael did, it could hardly be construed as chasing for you to do the polite thing and return his call.”
I thought about this. My mom was probably right. I mean, it isn’t as if Michael has a crazy wife in the attic. The Fifth Avenue apartment where the Moscovitzes live doesn’t even have an attic, so far as I know.
“Okay,” I said, setting down the clothes I’d been putting away. “I guess I could return his call.” My heart was swelling at the very idea. In a minute—less than a minute, if I could get my mom out of my room fast enough—I’d be talking to Michael! And there wouldn’t be that weird swooshing sound there always is when you call from across the ocean. Because there would be no ocean separating us! Just Washington Square Park. And I wouldn’t have to worry about him wishing I were Kate Bosworth instead of Mia Thermopolis, because there are no Kate Bosworth types in Manhattan… or at least if there are, they have to keep their clothes on, at least in winter.
“Returning calls probably doesn’t count as chasing,” I said. “That would probably be okay.”
My mom, who was sitting on the end of my bed, just shook her head.
“Really, Mia,” she said. “You know I don’t like to contradict your grandmother”—this was the biggest lie I’d heard since René told me I waltzed divinely, but I let it slide, on account of Mom’s condition—“but I really don’t think you should be playing mind games with boys. Particularly a boy you care about. Particularly a boy like Michael.”
“Mom, if I want to spend the rest of my life with him, I have to play games with Michael,” I explained to her, patiently. “I certainly can’t tell him the truth. If he were ever to learn the depths of my passion for him, he’d run like a startled fawn.”
My mom looked stunned. “A what?”
“A startled fawn,” I explained. “See, Tina told her boyfriend Dave Farouq El-Abar how she really feels about him, and he pulled a total David Caruso on her.”
My mom blinked. “A who?”
“David Caruso,” I said. I felt sorry for my mom. Clearly she had only managed to snag Mr. Gianini by the skin of her teeth. I couldn’t believe she didn’t know this stuff. “You know, he disappeared for a really long time. Dave only resurfaced when Tina managed to scrounge Wrestlemania tickets for the Garden. And ever since, Tina says things have been really awkward.” Done unpacking, I shooed Fat Louie out of the suitcase, closed it, and put it on the floor. Then I sat next to my mom on the bed. “Mom,” I said. “I do not want that to happen to me and Michael. I love Michael more than anything else in the entire world, except for you and Fat Louie.”
I just said the you part to be polite. I think I love Michael more than I love my mom. It sounds terrible to say, but I can’t help it, it is just how I feel.
But I will never love anyone or anything as much as I love Fat Louie.
“So don’t you see?” I said to her. “What Michael and I have, I don’t want to mess it up. He’s my Romeo in black jeans.” Even though of course I have never seen Michael in black jeans. But I am sure he has some. It is just that we have a dress code at our school, so usually when I see him he is in gray flannel pants, as that is part of our uniform. “And the fact of the matter is, Michael could do way better than me, anyway. So I have to be especially careful.”
My mom blinked at me sort of confusedly. “Better than you? What on earth are you talking about, Mia?”
“Well, you know,” I said. “I mean, Mom, I am not exactly a catch. I’m not really pretty, or anything, and I think we both know how hard I had to work just to pass my first semester of freshman Algebra. And it isn’t as if I am really good at anything.”
“Mia!” My mom looked totally shocked. “What are you talking about? You’re good at lots of things! Why, you know everything there is to know about the environment and Iceland and what’s playing on the Lifetime Channel….”
I tried to smile encouragingly at her, like I actually thought these things were talents. I didn’t want to make my mom feel bad for not having passed any of her artistic gifts on to me. That is totally not her fault, just some faulty DNA strand somewhere.
“Yeah,” I said. “But, see, Mom, those aren’t actually talents. Michael is gorgeous and smart and he can play a bunch of instruments and write songs and is good at just about everything, and it’s really only a matter of time until he gets snatched up by some totally pretty girl who can surf, or whatever—”
“I don’t know why,” my mom said, “you think that just because you had to work a little harder at Algebra than other people in your class that you are not good at anything, or that Michael is going to take up with a girl who can surf. But I do think that if you haven’t seen a boy in a month, and he leaves a message for you, the decent thing to do is to call him back. If you don’t, I think you can pretty much guarantee he is going to run. And not like a startled fawn, either.”
I blinked at my mom. She had a point. I saw then that Grandmère’s scheme—you know, of always keeping the man you love guessing as to whether or not you love him back—had some pitfalls. Such as, he could just decide you don’t like him, and take off, and maybe fall in love with some other girl of whose affection he could be assured, such as Judith Gershner, president of the Computer Club and all-around prodigy, even though supposedly she is dating a boy from Trinity, but you never know, that could be a ruse to lull me into a false sense of security about Michael and let my guard down, thinking he is safe from Judith’s fruit-fly–cloning clutches….