Not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only. Inspired by the novel, the BBC mini series and my overactive imagination.
Chapter 1
"There was no possibility of taking a walk that evening. . . " So I got into my rusty, 1990 Honda Civic death trap, complete with its "Don't laugh! At least it's paid for" bumper sticker, and drove to the neighborhood dive bar one town over from Thornfield Hall. I really needed to get out of that big, cold stone house and away from Mrs. Fairfax, the Hall's manager, and Adele, my student. Now don't get me wrong, I like them both, but they really do get on my nerves some days, and this was one of those days. Adele just couldn't shut-up about the latest spring fashions that had arrived at the mall. And Mrs. Fairfax just went on and on about her soap opera. Don't these two have more important things to talk about? There are so many things going on in our world, and all these two can think about are wide legged jeans, and whether Cassey should tell her step brother Daniel that she is sleeping with his lover who is also his long lost half sister! I swear I could have strangled both of them today.
I pulled into the near empty parking lot, got out of the car, leaned against the door, and lit up a cigarette. As I inhaled the toxins that I knew were going to kill me if I didn't quit, I reflected on the last three months of my life. . .
Who would believe that I, Jane Eyre, would go from almost living on the street to becoming a governess to a rich man's niece. By the way, I use the term niece loosely. I just know that's a juicy story waiting to be told! Anyway, Adele, the niece to the always absent Mr. Rochester, (who I have not met but my paycheck keep clearing, so what do I care if he is never around, right?), is a lively and outgoing girly girl who lives and breathes for the latest fashion and boys. It is my job to get her ready for school in the fall, and to teach her to keep her drama queen, and boy crazy tendencies under control.
Then there is the grandmotherly Mrs. Fairfax. This kind woman welcomed me with open arms the day I arrived at the great Hall, and continues to shower me with love and affection every chance she gets. All of that attention, however, does make me feel very uncomfortable because I am not use to the kindness of strangers. Hell, I am not use to kindness of family either, but that, dear reader, is a story for another time. The old bat, (just kidding, I do love her in my own way,) took me under her wing and has tried to make Thornfield my home away from home. Little does she know, I have no home to speak of. You see, I've kept her in the dark about my past. I really don't like sharing too much personal information with the people I work with because things can get messy, for lack of a better word. Besides, it is none of their business, and I don't want their pity.
You would think that I would be satisfied with my life these past three months. I have a roof over my head (the nicest one I have ever had,) people who seem to love and care about me, and a pretty nice paycheck to boot. But you would be wrong. I feel like something is missing, that I should be doing more with my life. In this day and age women can do anything they want, but I feel like I am doing nothing. I am not content to just sit back and do what is easy or what is expected of me. I crave adventure and the new people and challenges that come with it. I really need to be with people my own age, who share my interests, and who know what is going on outside the little world of Thornfield Hall. Hopefully I will be going off to college in the fall. I'm still waiting to see if the scholarship I applied for comes through. I guess I will just have to keep my fingers crossed, and bide my time until then.
All of this reminiscing made me thirsty, so I took one last drag on my cigarette, stepped on it, and walked into the bar. I took one quick look around the run down watering hole and didn't see anyone I knew, not that I expected to. In fact, the room was nearly empty except for three people: The bartender, a man with dark, unruly hair sitting on the last stool at the other end of the room, and an obnoxious drunk who was walking towards me. When I went to move out of the drunk's way so he could get past me, he stumbled, pushed me into the wall, and felt me up. I didn't do anything at first because I was too shocked to move. It wasn't until he said,
'There is more where that came from if you would like to go outside, sweetheart,' that my self defense training kicked in. I grabbed his arm, spun him around, and slammed him into the wall, face first.
'If you ever touch me or another woman like that again without our permission you will not know what hit you. Do you understand me?. . . Well do you?'
He nodded his head, and I let go of him. The man turned around and looked down at me with a surprised expression on his face. I guess he didn't think that someone my size could handle herself like that. He then wiped the blood that was dripping from his nose on the sleeve of his shirt and left quickly.
I adjusted my sweater, smoothed back my hair, and then bellied up to the bar.
'Slow night?' I asked sarcastically as I flashed my non-award winning smile. 'I'll have a Black Label.' Which, by the way, is a cheap, harsh tasting beer that in a sick, strange way always makes me feel invincible when I drink it. I guess because the taste hasn't killed me yet. The sixty year-oldish bartender with a bad comb over, and a huge beer gut said, in a raspy voice that one can only assume was the result of smoking filterless Camels over many decades,
'Let me see some ID young lady.'
I handed him my fake ID and hoped for the best. I really needed that beer, especially now, and I just couldn't bring myself to drink at Thornfield because everyone there thinks I am an upstanding young lady who can do no wrong. Let me just say that I am not a saint, nor do I pretend to be one. I just try to do what I think is right. . . most of the time. Besides, I don't want to be considered a bad influence on Adele, and I really don't want to ruin Mrs. Fairfax's perception of me. As I said before, I like her. She is like the grandmother I never had.
The bartender examined my fake ID for about a minute, handed it back and poured me my beer. I don't know if he thought it was real or he was being nice to me after what had happened. I sighed, and was just about to take my first sip of liquid fortitude when I heard the man at the end of the bar ask,
'Come here often?'
I frowned, put my glass down, and was just about to tell him off when I took a quick look at who was to become my latest victim this evening. My initial reaction was that he wasn't conventionally handsome like Brad Pitt or the other pretty boy actors in Hollywood. His features were way too harsh for that. And if he was good looking, then I wouldn't be able to speak to him coherently. I usually get tongue tied around handsome men because I question their motives for talking to plain old me.
But when I took a closer look at the man, the first thing I noticed were his dark, piercing eyes which seemed to look right down into my soul. Even with the distance of thirteen bar stools between us, his gaze drew me in. Before I could drown in his eyes however, I was distracted by his strong looking hands as he lifted his beer glass to his sensuous lips. Man he has a great mouth! I thought as I pictured it going over every inch of my body. I almost had an orgasm as I watched him drink his beer.
'Only when I need to get away from reality for a little bit,' I said as I tried to look like I was not interested in him when I really wanted him to rip off my clothes, and do me on the bar.
'And why would a young woman like you need to get away from reality. Is your life really so bad?' he asked as he finished off his beer and shot.
'It's not bad now, just boring. But a few years ago it really sucked.'
The dark haired man smiled at me.
'You're not going to beat me up if I come sit by you, are you?'
'No,' I blushed. 'I promise to keep my hands to myself,' I added as I crossed my fingers behind my back.
The man stood up and confidently walked over to me. He sat on the stool to my left and said to the bartender,
'Keep 'em coming, and put what ever the lady drinks on my tab.' He then turned to me, 'If you feel like talking, I'm a good listener. By the way, I'm Ed,' he said as he held out his enormous hand.
I smiled as more dirty thoughts flashed across my mind.
'I'm Jane,' I said as I shook it. 'Nice to meet you and just so you know, I am quite capable of paying for my own beer.'
He laughed at me and shook his head.
'That doesn't surprise me in the least, Jane.'
I ordered another Black Label and waited. I didn't know what to say to him. As I said before, I am not one to tell other people about my past. I don't want their pity. But with Ed it was different. I felt like we had a connection right away. I wanted to tell him all about my crappy life, but I couldn't, not yet anyway. When you have been on your own as much as I have, you build up walls in order to protect yourself. You become stubborn, unemotional, self sufficient, and always on your guard because you are afraid of being hurt.
Now that he was sitting next to me, I could tell that he had had a hard life as well. The lines on his face and the hint of sadness that I saw in his eyes gave it away. I just knew he had a sad story to tell, and I wondered if he would be able to unburden himself on me.
'I'm not use to talking about myself,' I began.
'That's OK, neither am I,' he said with a warm, sympathetic look in his eyes. 'Just so you know, I can relate. My life has been no bed of roses either. If you don't feel like telling me about yours, believe me, I understand. But if you want, you can give me the twenty-five words or less version.'
I laughed and took a deep breath.
'Alright, here goes. . . I am an orphan who was placed in a really bad group home.'
Ed counted on his fingers.
'That's only thirteen words. You still have twelve words to go.'
I smiled and took a sip of my beer.
'You did say twenty-five words or less. How about you? What is your story?'
He took a quick sip of liquid courage and said,
'I have made mistakes in my life that I am ashamed of, and they still haunt me to this day.'
'Sorry to hear that. . . I don't want to sound like I am lecturing you but. . . did you at least learn form them?'
'Not yet. But I hope to. . . someday.'
I lifted my glass.
'Then here's to someday.'
Ed clinked his glass into mine.
'To someday.'
Our eyes met over the beer glasses and I couldn't look away. I didn't want to look away because I was falling in love with him. Now reader, I know what you are thinking, but I couldn't help myself. For some strange reason I felt like this was meant to be. That the universe was pushing us together. That something good was eventually going to come from this chance meeting. I wanted to sit on that bar stool forever and stare into his eyes and I probably would have until Ed asked,
'So. . . do you think I am good looking?'
I got defensive.
'What?! Why do you ask?'
'Because you were staring at me.'
'No! No I wasn't,' I stuttered.
'Yes. . . yes you were,' he smiled. 'Besides, you haven't answered my question,' he added just before he took another gulp of his beer.
'What was the question again?'
'Do you think I am good looking?'
'Why do you need to know?'
'Because I am curious to know what you think.'
'There are so many other questions that you could have asked me in order to find out what I think. I can't believe that is the one you chose.' I was definitely trying to change the subject.
'Well, what question should I have asked you?'
'How about. . . what is your opinion on the War in Iraq? Or the presidential candidates?. . .'
'If I wanted to talk politics I wouldn't have come to this bar.'
I laughed as I looked around and saw that we were still the only two customers in there.
'Let me get this straight. You come to this bar to find out if women think you are good looking?'
He smiled back.
'I never said I was smart. So. . .'
'So, what?' I teased.
He groaned and waved his hand at me.
'Never mind.'
I paused for a moment, took a drink, and looked down at the bar.
'A little.'
'Excuse me?' he laughed.
'OK, a lot,' I said, looking up at him.
'That's better,' he smirked as he finished off his beer.
'But why do you need me to tell you that? Why don't you just look in a mirror?'
'I don't trust my own judgment. Besides, it is nice to hear it from an independent, outside source.'
'Oh, so you think that you are handsome then.'
'Only when I look at you.'
'What is that suppose to mean?'
'Your green eyes sparkle when you look at me. I like that.'
Before I could say anything more, Ed finished off his shot and attempted to stand up. Somehow he misjudged where the floor was and nearly fell flat on his face. He turned to the bartender and asked,
'I'm not feeling well. Do you have a room where I can sleep this off?'
The bartender grumbled,
'Upstairs, third door on your right.'
I could see that there was no way he was going to make it up the stairs by himself. Since I was in much better shape than he was, I helped him. I stood up, and had him wrap his right arm around my shoulder, so he could use me like a crutch. He must have been at least 5' 10" and I am only 5' 2" on a good day. I am sure we made an interesting, if not hilarious sight as I supported him up the stairs.
I don't know how I did it, but I got him safely to the room in question. When I opened the door, and flicked on the light switch, the bulb popped. As I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness I noticed the moonlight shining through the window and onto the bed. The bed took on an ethereal quality that I was sure was nonexistent during the day. I guided him over and tried to lay him on it. As I pushed him down on the bed he didn't let go of me, and I ended up on top of him. Our faces were just inches apart. He looked deep into my eyes and said,
'I want to kiss you.'
Before I could answer him, he made an attempt to kiss me. Unfortunately, he missed my mouth totally and slobbered all over my cheek. I really wanted him to kiss me properly, so I gently turned his head and guided his mouth to mine. It wasn't a bad kiss, considering he was drunk, but it was nothing to write home about either. After kissing for a few minutes I heard him murmur,
'I want to make love to you.'
I laughed. I didn't know what else to do. He then said,
'You're assssolutely irressssssible,' right before he passed out.
I laughed again and thought, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is so weak! Not that I would have done anything with him, mind you. I decided that this was my cue to leave, so I got up off the bed and was going for the door when my conscious asked me, what if he was to choke in his sleep?
I returned to the bed and attempted to roll Ed over. It took about four tries, but I finally got him on his side. It was then that I realized that he was still dressed. The t-shirt he was wearing looked comfortable, but his jeans, not so much. Without thinking, I pushed him over on his back and unbuttoned his jeans. I looked up at ceiling as I attempted to pull them down. I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl, I mumbled to myself as I tried not to look at his. . . underwear. Unfortunately, I didn't have a choice in the matter. I couldn't get his jeans off of his left leg, so I looked down in order to complete my task. And I couldn't help but notice that the flesh was not so weak after all! Let's just say Ed had nothing to be ashamed of. Seeing him like that made me remember the huge box of condoms that was on the night stand. I'll admit it, for a split second I toyed with the notion of having my way with him, but I am not that kind of girl, and I didn't want my first time to be with someone who wouldn't even know that I was there. But curiosity did get the best of me. I ever so gently put my finger tips under the waistband of his boxer briefs, and was just beginning to pull it back so I could take a peek when I heard him mumble,
'Don't leave me, Jane. Please stay.'
He startled me, so I accidentally let go of the elastic, and it snapped back against his body. I froze in horror. Ed didn't seem to notice.
I know I should have left him right then and there, but I couldn't, not yet anyway. So I went around to the other side of the bed and spooned him, enjoying the warmth of his body. After about an hour of lying behind him and gently running my hands through his unruly hair, I leaned over his shoulder, brushed the hair away from his face, and kissed his forehead.
'Bye, Ed. Hopefully we will meet again someday,' I whispered as I left the room.
