I became progressively more intrigued with what had happened on Wednesday night and increasingly more convinced that I was simply being played after I wrote about the incident in detail on Saturday.   You were convinced that the faux email was real and that we ‘broke up’ and even when I told you the voice was mine you did not believe me.  I was still not sure if I had actually spoken to her so that there was a convergence of the film within the film, this story was taking over my entire state of mind.

On Saturday after I became so delighted that you had been fooled I took my brother to the Museum to see the same Magritte show.  We also walked down to the basement and I was able to recount taking Jane to the Italian cinema there as well as describe the walk through we had shared of the Hopper work

He showed great enthusiasm for my story and also was determined to know what exactly had happened

“Did you actually say anything to her?”

“I honestly can’t remember…I was really drunk…and I was writing the script as reality was unfolding!”

I told him I was convinced that I had not said anything to her or I would have in fact received the email.  However, he explained in professional psychoanalyst fashion that she was probably confused that is in some kind of internal conflict herself and this rendered her unable to respond simply wallowing in some form of ambivalence.  I agreed, though it never hit me that maybe she was motivated to ignore my verbal platitude in order to facilitate getting the exhibition she wanted out of me.  It then hit me that we had to meet in theory to discuss the exhibition and that at that point, the truth would have to come out.

The very next day, I walked straight to the Morgan Avenue zone where I had spent our first date watching her sell her art wares before going to dinner at Momo Shack.  I texted her asking her if she was in the area and of course, she was…if I could just wait a bit she would show up.  I sat on the same bench as if to create a replay and in a few minutes she pulled up on her bicycle calling my name in her deep voice. Once again, I had totally forgotten or simply buried how good she looked and I started to shake.  I asked her if she wanted to get some tea but a few strokes on we were sitting at Momo Shack again.

I thought I would calm down once I was inside the joint and once the pretty boy waiter started flirting with me but no my voice was trembling so I took a breath and waited for the small talk to wear down.

“Listen…I have to ask you something…” I said as I clasped my hands together to ease the tension.

“I came over to your apartment on Wednesday night…right?”

“Yes sure…” she said.  I briefly told her how I had been writing about her she knew this already and I told her how the chapter described calling girls’ names from the street when I had been in High School and that essentially because of her relatively novel location above the coffee shop of choice for hood hipsters, I just simply had to walk over to her place and replay the romantic situation. So far, she was charmed but clearly maintaining a cold distance.

“So…you came down and opened the front door…and I handed you the painting…”

“Yes…” “…and then…did I just leave…or did I say anything?”

There was another extended moment of silence…I realized I was really shaking it was so exciting.

“You said something!”

I started to mimic what I said, the pick one from the menu of four to five phrases but clearly she did not wish to replay it any further there and then only to say very professionally that meaning in a cold tone:

“…yes, it is exactly what you are thinking…”

“REALLY!??”   Look, I was expecting it…I was surprised you hadn’t said it sooner.

Okay, no ego problems here.

The fact was there had been an email the next day.  It was nothing like the email I wrote, no, it was the real Ms Rosenthal, the above board manipulating power hungry grabber asking if she could move her closing event to The Market Hotel.  Of course, The Living Gallery was an option to.  I had often accused Alexis of only contacting me when she wanted something but the juxtaposition was fulfilled here.  I will present unedited the internal content of every email I actually received from the lovely Ms Rosenthal in order for even the most naïve reader to sense her blunt direct tactless ‘user’ approach.

Given that, why was I continuing to be a victim?  Particularly at this crucial juncture where the romantic cat was out of the bag and there was no love found.  “I like boys my own age,” she said very candidly.  I could never think about older men.  One must give her extra credit for being extremely transparent.

“You should just hire someone to beat you up a couple of times a week,” Alexis would tell me later when we were discussing these transpirations in therapy sessions.  Certainly I was feeling a great deal of relief when Jane opened up.  I looked into her eyes and realized that yes, she had never been in love.

I obviously wasn’t rejected.  Looking back even on this narrative, I knew that nothing romantic existed between us.  I had written that I felt used long before I let myself get used.  I was using her as a pawn in order to right this damned book.  Okay, she was more than a pawn, she was a fucking goddamn queen.

And it didn’t take very long for everything to be self referential even at that brief Sunday lunch:  She got up and had to leave to ‘get back to her studio’ before I had even finished.  I got up to say goodbye and she asked what I was doing over the weekend but then realized oh well and laughed awkwardly.

I thought wow I know it is over!  It was fast, efficient and now I can manipulate the truth, take a great deal of time to read and write and re read the same story.  For me, it was a victory, I had gotten to play out my High School fantasy and not really blown a wad and shit, she was so goddamned pretty WTF?!

I had no idea as I happily paid the check and finished up lunch all alone that my troubles with Jane had only just begun.  That that one last hit, that just one more drink, that creeping continued addiction and abuse cycle was about to play out into one of the greatest single moments or mistakes of my life!

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