The Chimney

Poor Jessi! Her personality was so contradictory that she often found herself in tears without knowing why. She naturally tended to be quiet and observant, to seek to understand the nuances of those around her, so that she could acquire the most equitable ones and in turn be observed with maximum favor, by someone as keen as she. It was her misfortune to be forever caught between speculator and star, two positions always in need of the other, and she could not be both. Her simultaneous and opposite needs for attention and anonymity created in her a knot of anxiety and utter bewilderedness.



Jessi had an underdeveloped concept of time and only thought about it when she was waiting for her next break--from anything. She was crying prettily the day she saw Joel, when she came back to the apartment under the contrived guise of returning some misplaced possessions.

"I didn't know what you would think about these," she told him, indicating a box of shiny plates with rabbits on them. "I took them because I used them most, but later I realized they were yours."

Joel was trying to clear the counter in front of her of all the infant paraphernalia that had accumulated on it for weeks. "I got them at a garage sale. You can have them."

She sniffed. "Well, okay," she agreed tentatively, unconvinced. "And then there was the coat rack. You can just have it." She gestured at the coat rack, which stood tall-ly and redundantly close to the counter, and noted vaguely that she had imagined this transaction lasting longer.

"Thank you," said Joel as he deposited the last armful of bottles, bowls and napkins into the sink. Returning to his place across the counter from her, he realized his hands were empty and hastened to busy himself. He made coffee.

Jessi followed him around the counter and positioned herself in her old usual spot, arms crossed, leaning against the third drawer from the right.

"Joel--I also came to tell you--I need some of the other stuff too."

"What stuff?"

"Well, your stuff." Gaining momentum, she uncrossed her arms and went on, "See, I've found a new place, about a half hour from here, and I'm moving in soon. And it's much farther from my work than I'm accustomed, so I'll be spending inordinate amounts on gas. So I think you should let me take the furniture to offset the cost."

Lost, Joel replied: "But it's my furniture."

Patiently: "Yes, but it's my commute, and it will be very expensive."

"So don't move that far. Find a place closer."

"I like this place, Joel, it's bigger. And it has a chimney. Which is another reason I need the furniture from here."

Joel stopped thinking of Heather.

"Why, because there's a fireplace?"

"No, there's not a fireplace, please listen. There's a chimney, and it's bigger."

"The chim--the apartment's bigger? Jess, get a closer, smaller apartment. Why do you need--what's a chimney doing without a fireplace?"

"Joely, you know how I've always wanted a chimney, and now I find one, just when I need a place to live, and you're trying to take it away from me. Personally I think you owe it to me to let me take the furniture, which had become 'ours' anyway, in the last six months. I have a right to it too, and I need it more."

"But it's not ours. It's mine. And I'm raising a child."

"It wasn't a month ago, and you should have thought of that when--earlier. And this place is so cramped."

"Not anymore."

"That isn't the point, Joel!" Her voice wavered and he heard the threat of more tears. "The point is, you kicked me out, and now I'm living out of my car, and I understand why, but you need to understand that I have the chance for something I've always wanted and I think you owe it to me to make one sacrifice to help me. This is all happening so quickly..." She allowed her voice to degenerate to a whimper.

By the time Joel climbed the stairs for the thirteenth time an hour later, he had put his foot down at the coffee table, falsing claiming it had been his grandparents'. Jessi was too involved with her play-acting to recall the amount of abuse it had taken, or his pleasure at having found it roadside fairly recently. He also had salvaged two lamps, a bookcase she didn't know about, and several bean bag chairs, which she had relinquished in return for most of the kitchen appliances. Toasterless and feeling duly robbed, Joel faced his now spacious apartment and was able to catch his breath before he was filled with the energizing fear that Jack had uncharacteristically rolled up over the bars and out of his crib (which had, strangely, only barely escaped Jessi's all-consuming grasp).

"Jackie!" Joel burst into Jack's room to find his son crying pitifully, newly awoken. Perhaps he had felt the confounded, self-hating stupor that Jessi usually left in her wake. Vowing to never leave him again, and to really never expose him to Jessi's logic again, Joel cradled Jack and gave him hushing sounds until he stopped crying.

Joel was not thinking of Heather in a romantic way or because he felt any social or familial obligation to her. Instead he wondered blithely as he dangled one of Jack's toys for him whether she, having incubated and given birth to such a joyous human being, must have some latent but blinding beauty within her, and whether he should try to find out. He hummed Jack's favorite song as he waltzed with him around the kitchen, gathering the objects necessary for a baby dinner.