Chapter 1: An Unwelcome Stranger
"Girls! I'll be home by 6 tonight, okay?" Maimie called her daughters through the door to the tiny bathroom.
"Okay Mom!" Angela called back as she paced the foot and a half of distance between the sink and the tub, in which Jane sat cross-legged to preserve space.
There was a short, blessed amount of silence before Maimie's annoyed voice rang through again, "You know I wouldn't have to scream if you would open the damn door while I am talking to you!" While it was annoyed, their mother's voice was also sickly sweet. Like the kind of high-pitched passive-aggression that you only hear exaggerated through someone's clenched teeth. Eyes wide to get the attention of the person to take a hint, even though the "hint" is practically a frying pan cracking against your head.
Jane rolled her eyes, "Mom, I'm curling my hair! I can't open the door while I have a hot instrument of torture by my head!" She called, fighting the urge to slam her currently uncurled head against the wall.
"I'm just saying, I always feel like I'm yelling at you girls because you won't bother yourselves to come and listen when I'm talking to you." The high notes of Maimie's speech was progressing so rapidly an opera singer might've blushed and glass definitely should have broke.
"I'm sorry, Mom, we'll see you tonight!" Angela called out, her voice struggling to keep it together while her hands wringed out the nerves she couldn't verbalize.
"Don't be sorry," Maimie said the word "sorry" with an over dramatic flair. "Just look at me when I'm talking to you so I don't have to yell."
Jane's eyeballs did a barrel roll whilst Angela quirked her eyebrows towards her little sister, as if to say, Is she fucking kidding us right now?
Silence again, for a sold minute, before they heard their mother's voice again.
"And another thing before I go!" Both sisters lifted their hands in comical frustration, "Don't leave that curling iron plugged in, Jane! It's a fire hazard!"
"I never do, Mom!" Jane called, aggravation cutting into her voice.
"Don't talk back to me, young lady! You always leave it unplugged in by the sink and I always have to put it away! You don't just unplug it, you wait for it to cool and you: Put. It. Away!"
"I got it, Ma!"
"If I find it on the sink by the time I get home, Jane, I am throwing it in the garbage!"
"Got it!"
They finally heard a jingling of keys. In the bathroom, it went dead silent. The girls just listened to the shuffle of their mother grabbing her oversized tote-bag and doublefisting two cups of coffee. When the door to the apartment slammed shut, Jane and Angela visibly sighed with relief. She was finally gone.
Maimie Mannering worked in the HR department of a major oil company with an office in Manhasset. During work, she was known as a hard worker and a credit to the company management. That did nothing to get her a raise, or take out her work-related anxiety on her daughters whenever it got to be too much for her.
Her youngest shared her talent for psychologically damaging dialogue. Except Jane wasn't known to mince words. There were even rare moments when she forgoed words altogether and settled for fists. Sometimes actions of violence speak louder than Spanglish and Yiddish insults, especially when the target only understands the language of war.
Right in the middle, Angela, who hardly raised her voice and never harmed a fly.
But it would be inaccurate to say that she was the non-violent or peaceful Mannering woman. Her abuse was emotional and generally self-inflicted. She was a classic glutton for punishment. For example, sweet Angela was in that bathroom waiting for the results of a pregnancy test, from an on-again-off-again relationship with a boy who had only abs and an electronic keyboard to recommend him.
Jane held the directions in one hand and the pregnancy test in her hand that was cover with a disposable latex glove. After a second, she pulled the glove off over the pregnancy test and threw it in the plastic CVS bag. She announced, "The human race is safe. You're not pregnant."
"Oh, thank God." Angela breathed.
"I told you it was nothing." Jane said, climbing out of the bathtub.
With the crisis averted, Jane and Angela got started on their daily routines. True to her word, the former of the pair did start curling her long, red hair. It just tickled her lower back, with the exception of her silky bangs that went straight across her forehead, and she was very proud of it
"So, what the fuck happened between you and what's-his-nuts?"
Angela shrugged, "Nothing happened. We slept together because we were drunk and horny."
"No, I get that." Jane clarified, pinning a red curl up into a victory roll on her head. "I just thought you two were in the off-phrase right now. Clearly I was wrong."
Angela blushed, "We're not together, we're just… Casual."
Jane gave her a look, attempting a tone of uncertainty that didn't suit her opposing feeling. "You don't do casual."
"Yes I do!" Angela insisted.
"No, you really don't. You only sleep with people you're emotionally invested in."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't do casual, it just means that I casually have sex with people I like. Is that a bad thing? And anyways, I taught you how to do casual, remember?"
"True." The teenager agreed reluctantly to the last part.
Having a mother who selectively decided against all evidence that her daughters were virgins, for a number of years, it fell to the girls and their outside connections to figure out how the world at large operated. Angela, being the eldest learned first. She taught Jane all the basics:
The clit is VERY important.
The pull-out method DOESN'T work.
And if you ever need to use a pregnancy test, you have to smuggle it in and out of the house like it is contraband in a prison! Which was why, on her way to work, Jane was going to throw away the CVS bag containing the test and its instructions in a subway station trash bin. That way, all evidence was disposed of and there was less chance for a long-winded lecture from their mother.
Funnily enough, it was for this reason that Jane was in the bathroom helping with the test. Angela was a grown woman, she had no need for her little sister to look over the test. The problem was, despite her advice to Jane when she became sexually active, Angela did not always practice what she preached. There were so many occasions where Angela would leave out her birth control, throw out condom wrappers in the trash at home where Maimie could see, or just straight up bring a guy home for a quickie despite knowing the dangers of being caught. It left Jane the brunt of any left-behind evidence, whether she was cleaning it up before her mother got home or just taking the blame for it. Jane loved Angela, but it almost felt like her sister was trying to get caught.
Jane had styled her hair and makeup into a 1940's style and was beginning to dress into her Hooters uniform. She did this because someone once told her that her red hair made her look like one of those beautiful Pin-Up Girls from that period. So, whenever she went to a job where her salary was solely made from tips, Jane used whatever advantage she had to make more-especially her appearance. Angela didn't have anywhere to go until later, but she liked looking pretty as much as her sister. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was straightened, and her makeup was a lovely color palette of mauves and browns to complement her chocolate eyes.
Once her uniform was on, Jane put a second outfit over it. Hooters' memorabilia was on par with birth control and pregnancy tests in the Mannering household, thus she didn't dare walk outside even just to go to work. So her standard yoga pants over the tights and tiny shorts plus a zip-up hoodie worked fine to hide it.
"Hey, are you gonna come to the bar tonight? I'm working a double and I can treat ya to a free drink." Jane offered.
Angela laughed, "No, not tonight. I have casual plans with Harris. Besides, it still feels weird to see my baby sister working at Hooters."
"It's not so weird anymore. At some point, ya realize it really is just a normal waitressing gig."
"Yeah, except the company explicitly monetizes sexualizing the staff." Angela pointed out, "And you're only sixteen! When they find out-"
"If they find out." Jane clarified, "Besides, let's face it: I'm a woman. I'm going to be sexualized no matter which job I pick, let me at least make some money out of it!"
"Fair enough, I'm just sayin' you're gonna get caught and it ain't gonna be pretty."
Jane stopped at the open doorway, smirking as she quipped, "I could say the same for you and Harris."
Angela pursed her lips, annoyed but also amused by her sister's comment. Flipping through her phone as Jane left, "Good luck!"
*SEVERAL HOURS LATER*
George practically slammed his fist on the green door of the apartment. Time was running out and he felt every tick of the clock as he waited for someone to answer the door. After a while, he was finally forced to accept that no one was home. There was only two days left.
Hearing the commotion, a forty-year old woman came slowly out of the apartment across. She eyed the man suspiciously.
"Can I help you, Sir?"
George turned around, startled and not sure of what to say. This wasn't the same neighbor they had when he lived there. At least she wouldn't know him.
"Um, yeah, I'm looking for my daughters. Do you know them? Angela and Jane? They should live here still…"
The woman seemed all the more accepting, "Oh, I think I know who you mean. That, uh, Maimie woman's girls."
Almost impatiently, George nodded in agreement, "Yup, that would be the ones. Do you know where I could find them?"
The woman shrugged, "Sorry. You can try the shopping district, I think one of them has a job there. Otherwise, I wouldn't know."
George didn't bother with a thank-you and headed out of the building and to the stretch of shops and stores. Some he knew well, and others were new and took over old haunts. Unfortunately for George, one of the haunts that he would've liked to see again was his old bar, which was now taken over by a Hooters. The store looked so odd mixed into the, otherwise, family friendly district. Little Ma & Pa shops for bagels, pizza, coffee, and even the old craft supply store run by Mr. Gutman was still in place. At all these older, more familiar places George was shooed out like the plague when he tried to ask if one of his daughters worked there-they all clearly remembered him, even ten years later.
Not like he had much luck with the other places. Even in more corporate chain stores, like the McDonald's up the road or the Office Max, none of them had any employees named Jane or Angela who matched his vague recollections of their images.
Finally, he gave up and decided he'd go back to the apartment and wait for them to come home-it was probably better that way anyhow. But he would need some liquid courage before he attempted that particular reunion. He wasn't sure who to be more wary of, Maimie or Angela? George didn't think Jane would be much of an issue, as she was so little when he left. It did send a chill down his spine to think maybe she wouldn't remember him. Then again, they didn't part in the best way, so her not remembering would be more ideal anyway.
Without a closer option for a place to get a beer in the middle of the day, George went into the Hooters and sat down at a lonely table by the window. He waited patiently for a waitress, head nearly touching the table as he ran his fingers through his scraggly hair.
Meanwhile, Jane was busy cleaning up and serving drinks and chicken wings to pumped up wrestling fans that Friday evening. Her decoy outfit removed to reveal her skimpy orange and white uniform. The push-up bra and balled up socks stuffed in to amplify the real reason she made such good money there. Jane had become an expert in bending over to clean without letting the unnatural, natural-looking tits fall into a beer puddle on a table and giving away their secrets by her lack of reaction.
It was true, by age, Jane was definitely not allowed to work there. Illegal, was the right word. Hooters were only allowed to be 18 and up, and officially would not allow the hiring of minors. However, Jane needed the money and her friend Dinorah (who got her the job) was having an affair with Mrs. Schnell, the manager. The deal was: Jane's only salary was tips, so they could keep her off the books. And she only worked if they were lacking employees due to illness or during winter, since most girls only took summer jobs there.
And it wasn't like the customers minded. Or, perhaps, they were just in denial about the fact that the girl they were hitting on and sexualizing didn't even have a driver's license yet. But occasionally there was a cute 18-year-old who came in for game nights that Jane enjoyed. Unlike Angela, Jane avoided sleeping with people she had any real feelings for. She wasn't irresponsible and did try to pick guys she knew enough to account for health stats and non-serial killer status. Yet, Jane loved to flirt casually. It was nice to feel desired, and she felt powerful when she did it.
Case in point, Darren, a boy of 19 who used to come in only with his buds now came in for lunch and drinks to see Jane. Jane was never sure if he could put together that she was younger than him, but since she didn't plan on sleeping with him it didn't matter.
"Hey there, Darlin'." Jane greeted, placing his usual basket of wings by his drink at the bar.
He turned around, smiling and stretching his arms over the bar-trying to show off his toned biceps. Jane appeared not to notice, keeping her cool blue eyes focused on his face. Although, her peripheral vision appreciated the sight, and definitely saved the image for later. She was leaning back on one leg, her face directly in line with his, but her body structure in just the right way to show off her own assets and curves.
"Hey there, Jane." He greeted, just barely referencing the basket with a nod before he returned to looking her up and down. "You always know just what I'm looking for."
"Well, it's not hard to tell, given you order it every time." Jane quipped, smirking. "But I think I can an educated guess about a number of things you like."
"Such as?"
Jane pretended to scrutinize him. Taking only a singular step forward. Her smirk increased when she watched his body subconsciously move toward hers. "You're in great shape, obviously. Which I can extrapolate to mean you and I have something in common."
Darren chuckled, "Really, what's that?"
"We both know how to keep a customer satisfied." Jane let the innuendo linger until Darren laughed.
"Well, unlike this place. I don't charge baby."
"Oh, but that's not all." Jane said. When he quirked an eyebrow she continued, "You don't come in here or leave with any women. So, that could mean you're not having much luck with the ladies. But, I think it's the second option. You don't leave here with other girls, because you want just one lady here."
"Yeah, yeah I think there's something interesting ladies here. One in particular." He leaned forward more, getting lost in Jane's sultry expression.
"Thirsty?" She half-murmured when he was close enough.
Darren grinned, "Oh yeah…"
Jane smiled, suddenly parting removing her gaze and gesturing to the bartender. "Eddie! Another refill over here!" She turned back to Darren, "Enjoy." she said before leaving the wide-eyed college boy in the dust.
Giggling to herself, Jane started grabbing her tips from her empty tables. It was just before the rush, so the tables had to be cleaned ASAP if they were going to have happy customers. Dinorah was refilling the condiments in her section closeby. The twenty-five year old gave the teenager an amused shake of the head.
"That boy is smitten."
"That boy is horny." Jane said, "Big difference… At least I'm hoping."
"Careful, Nena, too much of anything is a bad thing. Including la polla."
"Yo sé, yo sé."
Even though the neighborhood itself was mostly bilingual (for several different languages), Jane hadn't learned real Spanish until she started working with Dinorah. It was partially necessity as, while working in a very sexualized environment, it was helpful to keep some conversations going without too much being overheard.
"Hey! Tienes un cliente allí."
Jane looked over to where Dinorah gestured to see a man hunched over. She nearly rolled her eyes, thinking it was somebody who had pre-gamed or something. But she put on her waitress smile and whipped out her notepad like the pro she was.
"Mornin' buddy. Can I getcha a drink to start?"
Then George raised his head to answer. In truth, he wasn't the first to put together who he was talking to. He looked at her and asked for a Sam Adams, and it was only when she didn't immediately leave that he noticed something was off. Jane was frozen in place, her expression shocked, but giving away nothing else. Seeing the red hair that matched his own, as well as the eyes that resembled Maimie's, George realized that this was his daughter. Although, he was shocked to find her working here, of all places.
He managed a smile, "Hi there, sweetie."
Jane didn't say anything.
"Yeah, I'm sorry Angela, I know that's the least I could say right now-"
Suddenly, the redhead snapped out of her surprised stupor and her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"Look, I know you probably have a million questions, and rightfully so. But just listen to me. I need to see you again. You, your mother, and little Janie-"
Before he could finish the sentence, a half-finished glass of soda was flung into George's face as Jane ran off to the back room. George only managed to see a long trail of red hair that clarified his mistake.
All the while Jane ran directly passed Mrs. Schnell, who saw the whole thing but heard nothing so she was demanding to know why Jane would treat a customer like that. The teenager ran into the staff bathroom, clutching the sink for balance as her breath became ragged and uneven. She hadn't seen that man since the night he left, and it was not a memory she looked on fondly. Dinorah was banging on the door, concerned and asking what was going on while Mrs. Schnell was making threats to fire her if she didn't come out and explain herself immediately. Jane looked at herself in the mirror, feeling her face go hot as she held back ten years worth of conflicting emotions.
Why now? Why ever? Jane thought, appreciating less the fact that he'd apparently chosen her place of work as the site for this reunion.
"Come on, Jane. You can do this." She whispered to her angry-looking reflection. Finally, Dinorah had just used the spare bathroom key to get in. Though, she had to do some physical maneuvering to keep out their manager.
"Hey baby, are you okay?" Dinorah asked, "Que pasa?"
Jane was still catching her breath, she decided Spanish would be better. She was already desperate not to cry, and she really didn't want Mrs. Schnell to overhear her personal business.
"Mi padre esta aqui." Jane explained, pointing in the direction she just came from. "Fuera de. Y no quiero salir ahí. No puedo."
Jane looked on the verge of tears for just a split second. Dinorah has never seen her friend like this before. Then, as if flipping a switch, Jane's made up face was cold and glassy without a hint of anything-except maybe contempt for the man she'd just seen. That was a face Dinorah was used to seeing.
"Oh, Nena, come here." Dinorah offered a hug, only to be pushed away.
"No, I just-I-I don't know!" Jane said in frustration.
"Listen to me Jane. Here's what you're gonna do." Dinorah said, "You are gonna go home. You are going to head out the back door and leave with the tips you already have. I will take over his tab and keep him busy."
"I can't just leave. Mrs. Schnell-"
"If Miranda has a problem with it, she can go fuck herself, cause I won't be doin' it." Dinorah pushed her towards the door, "Now go. I'll take care of it."
Jane didn't need to be told twice and ran out the backdoors of the kitchen, only stopping to grab her bag and jacket.
Jane didn't even remember the walk back home. It was a 45 minute walk without a car, and normally Jane used her iPod to fill up the time. Right now, she was in a haze since leaving work.
Her father. George Mannering. She had been right in front of him.
All she could think was, What do I tell Angela? She can't want him there anymore than I do. But what if he comes to the house? Why couldn't Mom have moved us out when he left?! This wouldn't have happened then!
Jane had little respect for her mother. Frequently, Maimie would give speeches about being a self-actualized woman and not depending on anyone for anything. It normally came about when she was self-congratulating or didn't want to help Jane with something.
"How are you going to be a grown up, in the real world, if you keep asking me to help you? Are you going to ask me to study for you in college? Will you call me up when you're paying taxes? Am I going to be raising your children for you?" Those were the things she would say.
Jane always thought her mother was a woman who only bought feminist self-help books to get better material for pretend speeches when her dead-beat husband came back to beg for her to take him back. Not because she'd reject him, rather so she could get a good speech in before "miraculously" accepting his pleas for forgiveness.
Oh God, what if does want her back?!
Jane didn't have time to entertain these horrific thoughts as she came to the stairway of her apartment and heard her mother's rage-fueled voice echoing down the stairs. Except, she wasn't yelling at the newcomer Jane at just seen. She heard Maimie shout things like: irresponsible and cheap. Upon hearing these, Jane had an immediate instinct that Angela had left something out that she shouldn't.
Forgetting all about her earlier meeting, Jane ran upstairs and flung the door open to see her mother standing in a rage before a weeping Angela, who was looking miserably over at the plastic wheel of birth control left on the counter. That was beside a CVS bag that looked like it had been thrown to the floor, as several items were strewn around it like a crime scene. Then, Maimie turned to see Jane standing in the doorway, who had been so frazzled she forgot to change out of her Hooters uniform.
"What is this? What is this!" Maimie stomped forward and grasped the straps of Jane's tank top and bra underneath. Her grip was so rough Maimie's nails scratched at the surrounding skin by accident, and Jane felt the brastrap snap as Maimie pulled her inside by it.
There was a moment of silence as Jane stared defiantly at her mother, who was less than pleased with the silent insolence. Maimie suddenly let out a gasp of exasperation and looked around the room to make her grand speech.
"I'm a terrible mother. Is that it, girls? Is that what you're trying to tell me with all this? I don't work hard enough to put food on the table, keep you in a nice warm house-"
"No, Mom, no!" Angela wept, her makeup streaming down her cheeks as she coughed out her words.
Maimie put up one finger, then began to gesture incessantly with a box of condoms she clearly found in the shopping bag. "No! That's exactly what this is about! You're both getting back at me. For what? Because I don't spend enough time with you, is that it? I'm sorry that I slave away in an office, for you, all day. No, no!" She stopped Angela from trying to speak, "I deserve it. I deserve all of this! I'm clearly a terrible mother, I'm raising little sneaks who lie to my face! What else am I going to find in this apartment? WHAT ELSE?!"
Maimie threw the condom box at Angela, hitting her in the stomach, then lifted the metal trash bin high in the air.
"MOM!" Jane ran past her and went to Angela's side, who wrapped her arms defensively around her little sister. Maimie dumped out all the trash onto the floor, then threw the bin across the room, breaking a lamp and leaving the room darker than before.
Maimie looked at the broken lamp for a moment, than turned back to the girls who winced when she did so. "You, Jane, you'll pay for it! You wanted a job? Thought you could be a real grown-up, working at a place where they practically sell girls your age to the highest bidder? Well, then you can pay for it!"
She pointed to the door, where a familiar face had appeared in the still-open doorway. But Maimie was too wrapped up in herself to see it. "You're going to march to the store, buy a new lamp and some light bulbs, and get a new trash bin while you're at it!" She dipped down onto the floor and started going through the dumped out trash, "Come here, Angela! You're gonna show me exactly what kind of filth you try to hide from me, that you bring into my house!"
Maimie shuffled through it for a second before realizing that neither Angela nor Jane had even moved an inch.
She turned around wildly, "What are you looking at?! What are you-"
Now Maimie was staring. The one thing that could finally bring her to speechlessness. The one man that both her daughters couldn't decide whether to be upset or grateful for his appearance. Her husband. Jane and Angela's father. George.