Chapter Two: Helen
If you're wondering why I continue to make such a ridiculous effort with Jaden – a person who by his own admission gives absolutely nothing back – then you are not even remotely alone. Owen and Perry also both wonders this – in fact, it's probably the one thing they agree on. So do my parents. And Dr. Sam Samuelson. Hell, even I wonder sometimes. Is it because he seems like a deeply sad and angry person just beneath his sometimes excruciating know-it-all persona? Or because I feel excessively guilty for abandoning him and Hermione after the divorce when I know very well they lost their mother at a young age (Hermione was still in diapers, but Jaden was certainly old enough to remember his mother's death)? Or is it because I have some deep-rooted masochistic tendencies?
Dr. Sam Samuelson definitely thinks it's the last one. The first time I went to see him, he kindly pointed out that just beneath my well-polished masquerade of cheerful normalcy, I am actually really f-ing weird. Okay, maybe he didn't put it quite like that – actually, the words he used were "damaged" and "broken" – but I can't help thinking he is more right than I wanted to give him credit for. When he said this, I gave him a sparkly, perfectly white smile with my jaw clenched so tight my teeth may as well have crumbled into perfectly shiny dust. I told him that, although I definitely didn't question his credentials at all, he clearly didn't know what he was talking about as I was fine – just as happy as I seemed, in fact – even though I had only come to see him after I tore my calf muscle on the treadmill and then continued running for nearly an hour until it swelled up like a balloon and the pain was so bad I almost fainted. When Perry came home and heard the story, he rolled his eyes and said "Jesus, Helen. You need help," even when I tried to insist that I hadn't done it on purpose (even though it had been after a pretty epic argument with Hermione) and that it didn't even really hurt that much.
I suppose it all comes down to the fact that I have a pathological need to be liked. Sure everyone wants to be liked (yes, even Jaden in spite of his rudeness and inability to give back), but it goes beyond desire for me. I don't want to be liked. Or rather, I don't just want to be liked. I need it so badly that I sometimes feel that without approval I will wither away to nothing. In fact, after my first meeting with Sam Samuelson, I sat in my car for nearly half and hour sobbing uncontrollably – partly because he hurt my feelings and partly because I knew he was right, but mostly because I had a sinking, ice-cold fear in the pit of my stomach that my therapist didn't like me. To be fair, I didn't really like him either, but that didn't matter. I guess I'm just weird that way.
From the day Perry brought me home to meet his children, Jaden and Hermione made their distaste abundantly clear. When Perry and I were both in the room, they were okay, even if they both spoke in monosyllables and refused to make eye contact. But the first time I spent a few hours alone with them, they didn't even pretend to make an effort at politeness. "So, what attracted you to my father?" Jaden asked in that smug way of his. "His personality and stunning good looks? Or his pay check?"
"We just clicked," I said. "We're really compatible," I said.
"Sure," said Jaden, rolling his eyes. "Of course you are."
It only got worse from there as I tried to convince the kids that no, I was not marrying their dad for his money (as I had plenty of that myself, thank you very much) and that even though Perry and I had only known each other a short time, the relationship was a strong one. Also, I was in no way trying to replace their mother ("no one ever said you were," snitted Hermione, glowering at me) and I really wanted to be a part of their lives ("for about six months," mumbled Jaden under his breath – which I took the high road about and chose to ignore.)
"How'd you like the kids?" Perry asked that night at dinner.
"They're super sweet," I said, but my voice quavered and broke at the end.
"Really?" Perry asked.
"N-no," I stammered and burst into tears. "They hate me. They were so mean!"
Perry sighed. "I'm sorry, Helen," he said. "I probably should have warned you. Jaden and Hermione can be difficult to get to know, but they'll warm up. I'm sure they'll learn to love you in time."
As it turns out, a year wasn't nearly enough to break Jaden and Hermione's iron shells and eventually, Perry got tired of my complaining and told me to go easy on the kids because, as it turns out, Jaden has severe asthma and Hermione was born 2 and a half months premature. Although I don't want to make light of either situation, I hardly see what either has to do with them dumping out my tropical beach body lotion or purposefully eating all the strawberry ice cream in the Neapolitan because they know it's my favorite. Maybe Perry's objective was simply to make me feel bad for occasionally losing my temper and often whining about them behind their backs. And if that was the case, then mission accomplished.
You're probably wondering why I loved Perry in the first place. Was it because of his high status? Or because his aloof, often cold behavior reminded me of my dad? Or because I'm simply afraid of being alone? Actually, the answer is a lot simpler than that. Sometimes, you just can't help who you fall in love with. When I was little, my parents had a country song on one of their mixed tapes called "Timber – I'm Falling in Love." I think that basically explains my relationship with Perry. Nothing was there and then suddenly, out of nowhere: Timber! Falling hard and fast. Actually, the same was true with Owen but he was even more "timber."
The Museum of Fine Arts is crowded with art enthusiasts and liberal arts students when Jaden, Owen and I arrive. "I'm so glad you could join us," I say to Jaden for approximately the millionth time. "Maybe we could buy something for Hermione at the gift shop. I bet they have mini-replicas of Fountain. She'd get such a kick out of that!" For the unaware (which is by no means an insult, as I was unaware such art work existed myself until I researched it), Fountain is a piece by Marcel Duchamp that is a urinal with graffiti at the bottom. To be honest, I don't really understand how it's art, but I would never tell that to Jaden (or any other modern art fan). Maybe Hermione wouldn't find it funny, but Owen certainly did (and to be honest, so did I, for about a millisecond).
Jaden shrugs, his eyes on the floor. "Yeah, maybe," he practically whispers.
"What is Hermione up to these days?" I ask, though to be honest, I gave up on trying to build any kind of worthwhile relationship with Hermione after she laughed at Annie's tantrum during Lillian's bridal shower and said it was "awesome" when Annie destroyed and mocked all my hard work. So maybe I'm less of a masochist than Sam Samuelson thinks.
Really, I only brought Hermione up to make conversation as Jaden has been oddly quiet and subdued during our museum tour. And by that, I mean he is quiet in completely different way than usual. Usually, when Owen and I take him to events, he seems bored and distracted, as if he can't wait to get home and return to his computer. Today, he just seems sad as he wanders through the rooms, biting his lip and barely looking at anything, his eyes teary and far away.
He shrugs again. "Don't know," he mumbles.
I have to do something to snap him out of it, so I decide to make a comment so purposefully uninformed and poseurish that he will have no choice but to lecture me on exactly why I am wrong. "You know," I say, "I bet Duchamp was inspired by Andy Warhol. They both focus on how disjointed modern life in the Western world is and how isolated we are from nature." Yes, perfect. It's entirely stupid given that Duchamp was born nearly a century before Warhol. Not to mention that a urinal has entirely nothing to do with nature or isolation or anything of the sort. Unless, of course, it does.
Jaden makes no response. Now I know for sure that something is very, very wrong.
"Jaden," I say, pulling him aside. "Is everything okay? Is something wrong?"
He shakes his head. "No, I'm fine," he responds without a single trace of his patented Jaden sarcasm.
"Are you sure?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Because if there's ever anything you want to talk about, you can tell me."
For the first time all day, Jaden looks me directly in the eye. I brace myself for an assault of snark. But instead, he simply says, "really?"
"Yes, really! I honestly mean that. You can call me if you want to talk any time!"
Jaden nods. "Okay," he says.