Jane

I turned to look at my portable, digital clock as the alarm went off. The red lights blinked 10:15, a constant reminder of something that had happened years ago. I turned my attention back to my typewriter, “And there she was, Jane”. The clicking sound echoed through the dark, empty room and off the plaster filled walls. I glanced at the binoculars hanging nearby on my wall next to my overseeing balcony. Sudden bolts of memory about that event came to my memory, refreshed. I must write about this now and get this burden off my chest.

It was 10:15 again; the young man grabbed his binoculars and ran towards the balcony. He held his binoculars up to his eyes and looked down through them. He was staring at a lady as extravagant as the plants she was watering on her balcony. She was amazing–as beautiful as a night sky full of stars. Oh, how he longed to meet her one day–face to face, talking to her, asking her out on a date, and just being with her. He watched her water and tend to her plants on her balcony rail everyday. The night passed by quickly, and he drifted to sleep as he crawled onto his bed, dreaming of the day he would finally meet Jane.
Dawn arose, and the young man awoke to carry on with his daily activities, but during the late afternoon, he decided to go to the supermarket to buy ice cream, refreshening himself from the heat of the blazing sun. As he walked out of the store, he bumped into someone. It was the lady that he had looked upon from a distance, always yearning to meet her. This was his chance. She was on the floor; kneeling down, picking up the groceries she had dropped. As he bent down to help her, he rambled nervously as he apologized to her.
“Have I seen you around here before?” she asked.
“Yes, probably, I mean I live in an apartment. It’s like four blocks away, and I’ve been living there for the past two years now.”
“Very nice to meet you”, she greeted as they both extended their hands and shook. At that moment, the young man felt as if his wishful thinking had become a dream come true. In his excitement and rush of exhilaration, he thanked all of the gods he could think of; Buddha, Jesus, and all those other roman ones he couldn’t have thought of at that very moment.
“My name is John, John Jordan. I’m a writer.”
“I’m Jane Sanders.”
“Uh… would you like some ice cream?”
“Sure.”
Jane said it with a smile that was so heartwarming–it could’ve melted the ice cream right there. John and Jane walked together, making small talk and getting to know each other better by the second. Finally, after almost an hour had passed, John asked Jane out. From that point on, they were a couple. John felt as if he could fly and soar on forever, into the vast blue sky.
Weeks passed by, and they grew closer together. Soon, John started to feel guilty about never telling her of how he always had dreamed to meet her and how he had watched her every night at exactly 10:15 when she watered her plants. He wanted to tell her so badly, but a gut feeling told him she was also keeping a secret from him. John could always tell by the way she never looked into directly his eyes when he called her name. What could her explanation for that be? What was she keeping locked away from him?
One day, John and Jane were going for a stroll in the park when all of a sudden Jane acted suspiciously strange. She took a glimpse at a man nearby and started to act hysterical. He noticed that the man was holding a suitcase. The man was dressed nicely, almost as if he was going to attend an important business meeting. A few seconds later, Jane calmed down for a brief moment and told John that she had to leave. Without a proper goodbye, she turned and ran as though running for her life. From that point on, he never saw her again.
John, now back at his own house, heard his alarm ring once again. It was 10:15 as the alarm resonated throughout his dark room. He glanced towards his binoculars hanging on the wall and looked away, wondering if he should peer over the balcony. His curiosity had overcome him, for he had not seen Jane for three whole days since he had laid his eyes upon the mysterious man. Hoping to see her, he quickly took the binoculars off the wall and put them up to his eyes. John let out a shocking gasp immediately because of the scene he saw before him. Inside Jane’s house, there stood the man with the suitcase, destroying a picture of Jane. John immediately dawned upon one possible and likely conclusion. He had to take action. He called up Jane’s apartment, dialing the numbers with shaky fingers. Drenched in sweat, he was afraid. Through the binoculars he saw the man pick up the phone. In a deep voice, John stated, “I know what you did to Jane.” As he said it, he saw the man’s tense and focused face turn into one full of sheer terror. “How did you find out? Who told you? So what if I killed her? I killed Jane with my own two bare hands. I killed her at 10:15 sharp exactly 10 years ago on this very day.” Then, at that instant, John saw a shadowy figure race across the room. Adjusting his lenses quickly, he saw who it was. It was Jane; she was wearing a silky white robe. Her hair was down, and her arms were shaky as she went towards the man. The man was knocked unconscious and he collapsed. Seconds later, so was John.
He woke up in his bed, and saw Jane’s beautiful face. Remembering what he had heard last night, he jumped up.
“Calm down. I’ll explain everything.”
“No. You’re dead! How can you be here?”
Five minutes later, he knew the truth. Jane, the woman there in his room, was really Jessica Sanders. “Jane, my twin sister, tragically died 10 years ago.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m supposed to be the one apologizing. I’m sorry that I lied to you for so long. It’s just that you were so nice, and I couldn’t help it. But I still shouldn’t have lied about something like my given name.”
“That’s okay. I fell in love with you when I first saw you watering those plants on your balcony rail.”
“What? The plants on my balcony are artificial. I have never gone out to tend to them.”
Confused, John went to look through the binoculars once more. What he saw was Jane, watering the flowers on the balcony rail.

I stopped writing on my typewriter. It was getting late. Tired and weary, I climbed into my bed and lay down. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I had written of a remarkable experience and it would no longer be a heavy weight. Seconds later, I opened my eyes, releasing the inhaled air. I looked up and there she was, Jane.