Chapter XV

(Maura)

The weeks fly by and I still hope that one day it will get easier not to think about Jane. It has to get easier eventually, right?

I look to the side and see JayJay lying next to me. She looks relaxed, happy even. I envy her for that calmness, that tranquility she seems to find in our relationship. I almost hate her for not noticing how unhappy I am, even though I rarely admit it to myself.

I stare at the ceiling.

Our relationship seems almost perfect. We are both beautiful, smart, and successful. We have many common interests, we harmonize in almost every way, and we often understand each other without words. We are THE couple in our circle of friends.

So why can't I be happy? I have everything I've ever wished for: a great house, a fulfilling job, good friends, and a beautiful, fitting, and loving girlfriend. Why can't I be satisfied with that? Why can't I love her as much as I did years ago?

I sigh and get up. I can't stand the cozy warmth of the bed and JayJay's closeness any longer.

"Where are you going, Maura?" I hear her sleepy voice.

"I'll go for a run, and then to work."

"Don't you have the day off today?" She sits up and looks at me in surprise.

"Yes, but I have a lot to do. See you later."

Without turning around or saying goodbye, I grab my running shoes and storm down the stairs. I know she's disappointed that we won't spend the day off in bed and on the couch as promised.

But I need distance. I need air. I need time.

When will it finally get easier? Why can't I forget those chocolate brown orbs and the person they belong to?

xxx

It's a snowy December evening, just before Christmas, and despite all the lights, the taste of cinnamon, gingerbread, and mulled wine, despite the Christmas music and the carefree laughter of my colleagues, the holiday spirit just isn't finding me this year. I stand by the glass door to my veranda and look into the white emptiness of my garden.

"You miss her." It's more a statement than a question, and although it's said so quietly that only I can hear it, I turn around in surprise.

"I..." the brief hesitation has already given me away, but I still want to maintain the temporarily fallen facade at all costs "...she's right over there, I don't think I have a reason to miss her."

Jo raises her eyebrows and seems to weigh her response options for a moment.

"I wasn't talking about JayJay. But you know that."

"Jo, I haven't heard from Jane in almost two months. It's over. I'm with JayJay, as you know."

"Do you love JayJay?"

I'm afraid of the answer to that question myself. I had hoped to escape it for a few more weeks, maybe even months.

"We've known each other for a long time, we have a shared history, and we really harmonize well. She's a beautiful and smart woman. I'd be stupid not to love her."

Deflection, subtly avoiding the actual question. I'm a master at it.

"Well, Maura, are you stupid then?"

A failed attempt, as it turns out.

I open my mouth several times, wanting to vehemently deny it, but the words won't pass my lips.

"Thought so." She gently strokes my forearm, and her mischievous smile takes the sting out of the situation.

"Here, love." She discreetly presses a small, folded note into my hand and turns away with the words, "For when you're ready to listen to your heart."

I stare at the piece of paper in my hand, torn, as I hear JayJay calling for me. Hastily, I stuff the note into my jeans and make a mental note to look at it more closely during a quiet moment.

xxx

One case chases another, and the weeks go by. Long hours in the cold pathology lab followed by equally long hours in the office. Most days, I leave the house shortly after 6 a.m. and don't return until around midnight.

JayJay is often asleep when I get home, or she arrives at the same time, just as tired and exhausted as I am. Our relationship is currently nonexistent, but unlike the constantly nagging JayJay, I feel quite comfortable with that.

I have very little time to think about anything other than my job. I often fall asleep before I even properly lie down.

Maybe tomorrow I'll have time to think. Maybe tomorrow I'll find the strength to banish Jane from my mind. But not today. Today, I need the memories of the happy moments, and ONLY the happy moments, to get through the day.

xxx

"Jaaayy...? Have you seen my dress, the yellow one with the sunflowers? I just can't find it..."

"No, but it's probably somewhere in the now almost Mount Everest-like pile of laundry in the laundry room...or in the basket with things we should eventually iron. Have you checked there?"

She sticks her head into my – our – bedroom and grins mischievously. I return the smile only hesitantly.

"I have to go. Unfortunately. When was the last time I saw you dressed only in underwear?"

With a wet, long kiss, and not without letting her hands hungrily glide over my body, she says goodbye.

"It'll be late today, don't wait up, okay?" The regret in her whisper is unmistakable.

Fortunately, she can't see the relief on my face. Sex with JayJay is undoubtedly fabulous, but more often than not, it takes a lot of effort for me to engage in it. In general, it's hard for me to allow physical contact with her on any level, and on some evenings, I prefer the couch to the shared bed because I can't stand her closeness.

Why can't I get Jane out of my head even after five months?

Lost in thought, I search for the mentioned dress in the laundry pile that JayJay so aptly described. I guess I'll spend my well-deserved day off doing laundry, and I begin sighing, separating the clothes by color.

Just as I'm about to throw them into the "blue" corner, my memories take me back to that evening.

The jeans.

The note.

I reach into the pocket and find the still crumpled piece of paper, on which only a few words are written in Jo's unadorned script:

Jane, Domestic Violence Shelter, 209 West, 125th Street, Room 339

The memories of the many injuries and all the bruises come flooding back, and I have to sit down to relieve my suddenly shaky legs.

Jane.

Before I even realize what I'm doing, I storm into the kitchen and grab my iPhone. Hope rises within me. After months of torment, I will finally be able to hear her voice again, even if she's angry or disappointed, even if she might not want anything to do with me anymore, I can still hear her voice.

"Domestic Violence Shelter, my name is Sharon Miller. How can I help you?"

"G...Good day..." I stutter, and my voice trembles.

"Good day. Can you tell me your name?"

"Yes, of course. Excuse me." Concentrate, Maura.

"My name is Maura. Can you connect me to Jane? Jane Rizzoli, room 339?"

"I'm sorry, Maura. I can't give you any information."

"I...please! I got the details from Detective Josephine Danville, I need to speak to Miss Rizzoli!"

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

The woman's voice is no longer understanding and warm as it was at the beginning of our conversation. Instead, it is cold and distant, and only now do I realize that she would be violating all principles of anonymity if she gave me any information about Jane.

My thoughts are already circling around all the options I might have to find Jane somehow, and I end the call without saying goodbye.

Jane.

I grab my car keys and decide that the laundry will have to wait a little longer.

(JayJay)

I sit in my car, stuck in traffic, cursing New York with its too many motorists. The city of unlimited possibilities? My possibilities are currently quite limited: I sit in the car, listen to music, sip my latte, and ponder my relationship.

What does Maura see in this Jane?

Of course, I ran her through the system a few weeks ago and now know about the dark side of her marriage with that handsome, charming man.

"When was the last time I saw you dressed only in underwear?"

I say goodbye with a wet, long kiss, and not without letting my hands hungrily glide over her flawless body.

"It'll be late today, don't wait up, okay?"

I sigh. Of course, I noticed how stiffly she stood and how pained her smile was.

I knew that Maura was attached to this Jane. I suspected that she wouldn't forget Jane after just a few days. But that she would hang over our relationship like a curse for months, poisoning and destroying it, that I didn't expect.

Sometimes she stands in the kitchen in the morning, staring out the window with vacant eyes, deeply lost in thoughts of a time I can't compete with despite all my efforts.

I love her. She was the only one I ever loved.

Why can't she be happy with me? Why can't she love me anymore? What does this Jane give her that I can't?

I feel myself getting angry. At Maura, who I almost only experience rejection from. At Jane, who, despite her obvious weakness, holds the heart of my girlfriend. At myself, for not being good enough to make Maura happy. At myself, for even having such thoughts. At Maura, for not recognizing what a great catch she has with me. Other people, men and women, would be thrilled to have someone like me by their side. But not Maura.

I don't know how long we can keep playing this game. I don't know if it's time to admit that we, against all reason and logic, can no longer have a happy relationship.

The insistent ringing of my phone pulls me out of my gloomy thoughts. A glance at the display makes my eyebrows shoot up.

Josephine Danville?