The Smart One and the Pretty One

by Claire Lazebnik

  “Name one.”

  “Michael Rodriguez.”

  “Michael Rodriguez?” Lauren’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “Oh, wait. He was the one who did that weird thing with his cat, right?”

  “I can’t believe you remember that story,” Ava said. “I can’t believe I told you that story.”

  “What was it again?”

  Ava hesitated, then sighed. “Whenever he took a shower, he’d let his cat lick him dry. Well, parts of him, anyway.”

  “Which parts?”

  “He was a nice guy,” Ava said defensively.

  Lauren laughed. “I never said he wasn’t. So anyway, how long ago was Michael?”

  Ava thought. “Three years?” she said after a moment. “Yeah. Three years.” She slid way down in the chair. “I can’t believe it’s been that long since I’ve dated anyone even halfway decent. And Michael was a little weird. The cat was weird too, come to think of it. It had these little squinty eyes—” She made a face. “Why are we even talking about this?”

  “Let me take you out,” Lauren said, suddenly sitting up. “The night is young. We could hit some bars—”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Come on, it’ll be fun. The worst thing that happens is you and I have a drink and some laughs. The best thing that happens is you meet some handsome young doctor who falls madly in love with you—”

  “Make him a pilot,” Ava said. “I’ve always wanted to date an airplane pilot.”

  “We’ll go to a bar near LAX,” Lauren said. “Got to be pilots there.”

  “I was joking,” Ava said. “I don’t meet guys in bars, Lauren.”

  “That’s because you don’t go to them.”

  “No, it’s because I don’t look like you.”

  “You look a lot like me.”

  “Not in the ways that matter.”

  “Let me make you over,” Lauren said excitedly. “I’ll do your hair and face and lend you an outfit. I’ll make you look so hot the guys’ll be lining up—”

  “I’m tired,” Ava said. “I just want to go home.”

  Lauren stamped her foot. “Why do you always have to be such a loser?”

  “Says the girl who’s about to move back in with her parents.”

  Lauren stuck her tongue out at her sister.

  “A brilliant comeback,” Ava said.

  “Sorry. Guess we can’t all be straight-A geniuses.”

  “Too bad for you,” Ava said. “Good night.”

  As Ava left the room, Lauren immediately and automatically reached for the TiVo remote, accidentally knocking off the papers she had tossed on the coffee table earlier. They fell to the floor and she reached down to pick them up.

  It was, she thought with amusement as she glanced through them, a classic Mom stack of papers, completely random: there were a couple of childish crayon drawings, a manual for the DVD player, a photo of Lauren on prom night (wearing too much makeup, she had to admit—she had a heavy hand with eye shadow at that age), a page torn from a Spanish-English dictionary, and, finally, some sort of handwritten document that Lauren stopped to examine more closely.

  In her mother’s slightly loopy handwriting were the words:

  We, the parents of Ava Carrie Nickerson and Russell Douglas Markowitz, do hereby agree that our two children are betrothed to each other and upon reaching maturity, or some semblance thereof, will be joined in matrimony to live Happily Ever After. We also agree to be good in-laws and to share them on the major holidays and not try to make the grandchildren love one set of grandparents more than the other.

  The document was signed at the bottom by her mother and someone named Lana Markowitz—presumably Ava’s intended mother-in-law.

  Lauren heard footsteps and assumed it was Ava coming back for some reason, so she called out, “You have to see this!” but it was Nancy who entered, wearing the same crimson silk bathrobe she had worn every morning to make coffee for as long as Lauren could remember.

  “See what?” she asked with a yawn.

  “What are you doing up? I thought you had gone to bed a while ago.”

  Nancy flopped down on the sofa next to her. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping since the diagnosis.”

  “Are you worried?” Lauren slid closer and leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder.

  Nancy put her arm around her and squeezed. “Not in the light of day. It’s just in the middle of the night that my mind runs on and I start imagining crazy things like you girls getting married and having kids without me.” She said it lightly enough, but Lauren’s heart contracted.

  “You’ll be there,” she said.

  “Oh, I know,” said Nancy. “I expect to be. But, just in case I’m not—?”

  “What?”

  “Promise me you’ll pick out Ava’s wedding shoes? If she wears a pair of those ugly Aerosole pumps she’s always got on—just in white—I swear I’ll come back to haunt you both.”

  Lauren laughed. Her mother wasn’t a real clotheshorse, but she did love a beautiful pair of shoes, and it wasn’t the first time she had expressed pain over Ava’s determinedly utilitarian approach to footwear. “I promise,” she said. “But you’ll be fighting that battle at my side.”

  “So what is that?” Nancy asked, flicking at the piece of paper Lauren was still holding.

  “Look.” Lauren handed it to her and Nancy read it, holding it far from her face and squinting at the writing even though the room was fairly bright.

  She gave a short laugh. “I had forgotten we did that,” she said, dropping it on the table.

  “Who was Russell Douglas Markowitz, anyway?”

  Nancy pushed off the pretty velvet mules she wore for slippers and curled her feet up under her, snuggling down into the cushions with Lauren. “His father worked with Dad for a while back in the late eighties. Dad liked Jeffrey—he was a very entertaining guy, very smart and funny—so we got together with them a bunch of times, but I never really hit it off with the wife.”

  “Why not?” Lauren rubbed her cheek against her mother’s silk-covered upper arm.

  “I don’t know. We just didn’t click. She didn’t have much of a sense of humor, for one thing, which, given how funny Jeffrey was, made for an odd marriage and ultimately a divorce.”

  “I don’t get it,” Lauren said. “Why would you want to marry Ava off to one of her kids if you didn’t really like her?”

  “I didn’t mean it.” Nancy shrugged sheepishly. “I needed several glasses of wine to get through an evening with Lana Markowitz, so I was probably a little tipsy when I wrote that.”

  “I’m shocked,” Lauren said. “Such goings-on in my own home.”

  “I do remember thinking the boy was sweet, though.”

  “Are you still in touch with them?”

  “Not for years. They both moved away after the divorce.”

  Lauren yawned, and Nancy gently pushed her upright. “You should go to sleep, Lulu. It’s late and you’re still on East Coast time.”

  “Okay.” She stood up. “Just tell me one thing: am I engaged to anyone I should know about?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Nancy said. “You have anything to tell me?” Lauren shook her head. “Anything at all?” Nancy persisted, almost pleadingly. “Doesn’t have to be an engagement. Could just be an interest. Or even a breakup.”

  “There really isn’t anything or anyone worth talking about,” Lauren said.

  “I feel like I know so little about your life these days.”

  “You’re not missing anything.” It was true, though, that Lauren hadn’t told her much about the last few guys she had dated, well aware that they weren’t the kind of men she would ever end up bringing home to meet her parents.

  Nancy said wistfully, “When Bobby Cho kissed you in Extended Day, I was the first to know.”

  “That was fourth grade, Mom.”

  “I know. I miss how you girls told me everything in those days.”

  “Not everyth
ing,” Lauren said. “I never told you what Bobby Cho did the next week at Extended Day.”

  “What?” Nancy asked, a little too eagerly.

  “On second thought, I’d better keep it to myself,” Lauren said. “Good night, Mom.”

  “Now I really won’t be able to sleep,” Nancy called after her as she left the room.

  Chapter 3

  Hey,” Lauren said, sticking her head around Ava’s office door and peering in. “Jeremy said I could come on in.”

  “I’ll just be a sec,” Ava said. “Make yourself comfortable.” She bent back over her work.

  “Thanks.” Lauren came in and wandered around the room for a moment. She picked up the one framed picture Ava had on her desk. “Hey, it’s me!”

  Ava looked up. “That was at Aunt Jeanie’s wedding. Remember?”

  “Not really. Mom let me wear a torn tutu to a wedding?”

  “You wouldn’t take it off.” Ava dropped her pencil. Clearly she wasn’t going to get any more work done. “There was a huge fight and you said you wouldn’t go to the wedding unless she let you wear it.”

  “I loved that tutu.” Lauren put the picture back down. “Can we go? I’m starved.”

  “I ordered in for us.” Ava pressed the buzzer. “Jeremy? Is the food here yet?”

  Jeremy’s voice said, “Not yet. Do you want me to check on it?”

  “No worries. Just meet us in the red conference room when it gets here.” Ava stood up. “Come on, Lauren. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “Ooh,” Lauren said, jumping down from the edge of the desk and catching up with her at the door. “Is he cute? And if he is, why not keep him for yourself?”

  “All will be explained in time,” Ava said.

  “I hate you when you’re mysterious,” Lauren said as she swept by her.

  Ava just smiled at her back. And then she sighed.

  Carolina Hernandez was waiting outside the conference room for them, looking every inch the professional in a well-tailored, formfitting navy blue suit. Ava greeted her and they shook hands and then Ava introduced her to Lauren, who looked suddenly wary. And very young. Maybe it was the pink babydoll tunic top she was wearing over tight blue jeans, but sandwiched between two older women who were both wearing fairly formal dark work clothes, she looked like a teenager who had been forced to accompany her mother to the office and couldn’t wait to run free at the mall again.

  “So,” Carolina said once the greetings were over with a nod toward the conference room door. “Shall we—?”

  “Shall we what?” Lauren asked warily.

  “Get started.”

  Even more suspiciously: “Get started doing what?”

  Ava said brightly, “Carolina is a debt counselor, Lauren. She’s going to help you consolidate your debts and set up a payment schedule so you can work toward restoring your credit rating.”

  “Ah,” Lauren said.

  “Lunch is on the way.” Ava took a step back. “If you two don’t need me, I’ll wait for you back in my office.”

  “We shouldn’t be more than a half hour or so,” Carolina said over her shoulder as she headed into the conference room. “It was sweet of you to get us lunch, though.” She put her briefcase on the table and briskly popped it open, then began taking out various papers and a laptop computer.

  Ava took another step back, but Lauren put her hand on her arm, stopping her. She said in a quiet falsetto, “Gee, Lauren, why don’t you come on in at lunchtime and we’ll go grab some sushi or something?” Then, still quietly, but back to her regular voice: “Why didn’t you just tell me you were doing this?”

  “Honestly?” Ava said. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up if I did.”

  “It’s not that I mind meeting with her,” Lauren said. “But you could have been up-front about it.”

  “Could I have?” Ava said. “Really?” There was a short silence. “Go on,” she said. “Just get it over with. Carolina’s very nice and you’ll feel so much better when things are in order.”

  “Maybe,” Lauren said. “But you’re a bully and a jerk.”

  “I’ll see you when you’re done,” Ava said.

  As she went down the hallway, she ran into Jeremy, who was carrying a stack of sushi-filled plastic containers. She swiped her own order (a spicy tuna roll) out of his hands and sent him on to the conference room with the rest.

  As she went back to her office, she felt vaguely uneasy. Should she have told Lauren ahead of time? But she had too much work to waste time worrying about something that couldn’t be changed now.

  There was a knock on her door about an hour later and Carolina beamed as she and Lauren entered. “We made a lot of progress today,” she said.

  “Good.” Ava glanced at Lauren, who didn’t meet her eyes. “So do we have a master plan?”

  “We’re getting there,” Carolina said. “Lauren’s going to get me some of the information I still need, right, Lauren?” She sounded a little bit like she was talking to a small child, and Ava winced.

  But all Lauren said was “Yeah, I’ll get it all together.”

  Carolina smiled and her teeth sparkled. Bleach, Ava thought. And not just over-the-counter Crest Whitestrips bleach. The real thing, done in a dentist’s office for hundreds of dollars. Those were some white teeth. “You are going to feel so much better once we’ve taken care of this,” Carolina said to Lauren. “Bet you’re feeling better already, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, I’m great,” Lauren said flatly. “This is a whole new me.”

  “In that vein,” Ava said, “and while I’ve got Carolina here to weigh in, I have another idea to propose—”

  “What’s that?” Carolina asked.

  “When I was doing some research about debt online, I read that a lot of people make a vow these days not to buy anything that’s not a necessity for a certain length of time, like six months or a year.” Ava snuck a glance at Lauren, who was now staring, stone-faced, at the opposite wall. “Going cold turkey gives you time to get back on your feet, pay off all the bills, start putting some money in the bank account. If you cut off all temptation, it’s just easier to, uh . . .” She searched but ended up with a somewhat lame “resist temptation.”

  Carolina was nodding away, her glossy black hair swaying with each enthusiastic bob. “It’s a fantastic idea,” she said. “It’s like dieting—sometimes it’s easier to cut out your danger foods altogether than to try to eat them in moderation. For some people, money is a danger food.” She dazzled them with her teeth. “For me, it’s M&Ms.”

  “I hear you,” Ava said. “So what do you think of the idea, Lauren?”

  Lauren said slowly, “Let me get this straight. You’re saying you want me to write out a little contract promising not to buy anything for the next year?”

  “You could also do it on one of those Web sites,” Ava said. “If that seems less weird to you.”

  “Weird?” Lauren repeated. “I wasn’t thinking it was weird. Infantalizing, yes. Embarrassing, maybe. Patronizing, definitely—although that would be more your issue than mine. But it’s not particularly weird.”

  There was a short, uncomfortable pause. Then Ava said, “I’m just trying to help. You have a problem, Lauren. You can’t control your spending. Carolina can help you dig yourself out of your current situation, but it won’t do any good in the long run if you don’t make some real changes in how you deal with money.”

  “And you think I have to sign my name to a scrap of paper to make a real change?” Lauren said. “You think this”—she mimed her signature, moving her hand through the air—“is going to make the difference between my being responsible or not?”

  “The world runs because people sign their names to pieces of paper,” Ava said. Her cheeks were flushing hot—she could feel them—and she had to fight the urge to back out of the room and flee. She hated any kind of personal confrontation, even with her own sister. “That’s all everything comes down to—business deals, purchases,
political arrangements, marriages—everything. All day long I make sure that the pieces of paper my clients are signing their names to are going to improve their lives and their businesses and not destroy them—because those little pieces of paper have the power to do both those things. So don’t act like I’m belittling you just because I’m suggesting you put something in writing, Lauren. I have every reason to know that it matters.”

  “Oh, right,” Lauren said. “You’re the important lawyer who knows about contracts and never gets into debt. I’m the loser sister,” she said to Carolina. “She’s the successful one. In case you hadn’t noticed yet.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Carolina said. Nothing seemed to upset her composure. Ava envied her that. “You guys both seem pretty amazing to me. And you are so lucky you have each other. I have two brothers and I would have killed to have a sister. It’s a really special relationship.”

  Lauren grinned suddenly and Ava felt herself breathe out with sudden relief. She hadn’t realized until then that she was basically holding her breath. “Yeah,” Lauren said. “It is. No one can get as far up your ass as your sister.”

  Amusement won out over horror and Ava laughed out loud as a small expression of distaste flickered momentarily on Carolina’s face.

  Ava asked Lauren to stay after Carolina left. “I already wrote up a rough draft of the document for you,” she said. “It’s just a jumping-off point. See what you think.” She held it out to Lauren, who took it and glanced at it disdainfully.

  “Define ‘necessity,’” she said.

  “Toilet paper. Not that you’ll need it if you’re living at Mom and Dad’s, but eventually . . . Anyway, that and soap and toothpaste and food. But not fancy high-end restaurant food. Paying thirty-five dollars for a plate of pasta is out.”

  “Unless someone else is paying,” Lauren said. “I am allowed to let someone else buy me things, aren’t I?”

  “So long as you don’t start turning tricks for Stuart Weitzman shoes.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that,” Lauren said. “But now that you’ve suggested it—”