Jane V

It came without warning, for me at least. Peter came over to my room one day with 'news'.

Jane was going to adopt him, and sign over everything to him.

I threw up.

I hated them both SO much at that moment, I was so angry and disappointed, it was near criminal.

And I said, 'That's it, I've HAD it. Do what you want. But without me. I'm moving to Vienna. Alone.'

Check-mate, Jane. Take a bow to the master of the game, I give up.

Whereupon followed a mess of subterfuges, and everything horrible you could think of, Peter wanted me. And I was still stupidly in-love, which is not a good place to be. He pretended to support me in leaving, but he too was a master of games. And said we'd both move to Vienna, and tricked me in the worst ways possible... telling me he'd found an appartment, and I sneakretly went out to see where? It didn't exist and I ended up barfing in the park of Schönbrunn palace. I had a hope to gain a toe-holt there, and he undermined it like he undermined everything.

He showed me the house, and my heart sank, so much would have to go into it. And I said, 'No. No way.'

Jane was cheerful. I was disgusted.

Well... the papers were hardly signed, and Peter came over one day, and he was ill. It was hot... in summer, so I had the drapes closed to keep my little box cool. And as the light was poor, I didn't notice right away, but over the next thirty-six hours, he got worse and worse... and then I saw his eyes turned yellow. The whites I mean. And I had to get him to hospital, like fast. He nearly died, had sepsis. It was then they found he had diabetes. And it wouldn't have been a week in the life of RenB if his aunt hadn't shown up, or his friend Andreas giving him a huge bucket of ice cream the next day, whereupon I went into the first of my rage rants on the staff of the hospital, and.... they thought I was nuts.... I'd just gotten back from 'Murka, after all.

Jane had taken a fall on a drunken junket with a 'friend', and had broken her hip, meanwhile, and they had given her full narcosis, which is not so advisable with an 85 year old patient. That had been in winter. She slipped on some ice on a sidewalk across the street.

Peter being hospitalised set off a chain of events in her head that became irreversable. I was juggling hospital visits, his relatives, and she would come running into the lobby in the morning, yelling 'Peter's dead! Peter's dead!' Crying, it was to be pitied. And I would take her aside, and say, 'Shhh, it's all right, he's not dead, you just dreamed it, he'll be fine.' (Which I wasn't even sure of, but she needed to hear that...)

'No, he will be just fine, you'll see. It was a dream.' And I held her till she calmed down. It went on repeatedly, and Jessica and the secretary in the office were more than amazed. 'My boy, my boy, I can't lose him!'

'You won't, I promise you that, you WILL not.' My heart was breaking in more ways than one.

This was in 1993. And I realised.... for her, he was the son she never had. The shock of it was too much for her, and she couldn't do much for herself after that. But Peter took good care of her. He had her transferred to the most expensive nursing home available, and went to visit her every day. But she sank and became apathic. And hardly lasted a quarter of a year, and her heart gave out. He gave her the funeral exactly as she had wanted it. Simple. There were only four people there. But I was, and grieved.

So she's resting now. And I decided that what she so generously gave should not be in vain, and wished to make that home a place of light and laughter, and something very special. And I succeeded.... for a while.

Jane drove us apart, brought us together, and was bigger than life. I've never figured something out, however. Since then, if Peter talks about his 'mother', he always means Jane, never his biological mother. I'll never know what the hell went on between them. I could just as well ask the sky. Since that is the case, I assume it wasn't being venal for gain. I'll never know... but in life, you never know absolutes, do you?

Jane was a very special woman. Odd, fierce, hilariously funny. I hope I have portrayed her correctly. Because if there is ONE thing about her, she really could love. And near the end, she turned to me. Because she knew. That was very nice of her. And yes, I held her, and saw her going confused and losing it. And I held her. And whispered, 'Everything will be just fine, you'll see. Please don't worry.' And I didn't give a shit who saw or knew....

So... I finally wrote it all out. That's how it was. That was Jane. And no, it wasn't her name. We had nicknames for everyone at work, and a colleague was a Rolling Stones fan and used to call her 'Lady Jane'. It sort of stuck. Her name was Elisabeth. I heard that her long-departed friends called her Elsa.

This has been a sort of chronicle. About how you perceive people. Who can seem a bit crazy, but aren't what you perceive at all.

I knew it was gonna be long. And I wanted to do it in the time-line. How you perceive someone you think is 'crazy', to coming to recognise there is a method to the 'madness'.... and that at core.... you find a very hurt human being capable of a vast love.