Tiny Imperfections

by Alli Frank

  “Ty, I’d love for you to get to know Etta a little better. She can tell you all about being a lifer student at Fairchild. Let’s go find her.” I grab my glass of wine out of his hand and redirect him through the crowd to look for Etta.

  “Sure, sounds good, but we do need to talk at some point, Josie. It’s pretty important.”

  Then it hits me; maybe it’s not about admissions for Gracie, maybe something came back on Aunt Viv’s last round of tests and that something is not good. Really, really not good. And he wants to tell me, so we can figure out how best, together, to break the news to Aunt Viv after her big night. Oh my God I’m sure that’s it. When are we going to tell her? Tomorrow morning before we fly out to New York? We can’t do that. It will destroy Etta’s focus for her audition and ruin our first big Bordelon vacation. But if we wait until we get back and Aunt Viv finds out I have known for days without telling her she will disown me. I knew that heart attack was worse than Aunt Viv and Dr. Golden were letting on. My eyes start to heat up and tear. Don’t cry, Josie. Not here, not now, don’t cry. I fan my eyes a few times to dry them out.

  “There she is, Josie.” Ty guides my elbow over toward the band where Etta, Poppy, and a few girls who graduated last year are talking.

  “Ty, this is Etta’s good friend Poppy, who she dances with, and these two extraordinary Fairchild graduates are Simone and Freya. Actually, Freya is at Cornell. Go Big Red!” I weakly cheer as I introduce Ty to the group. Or maybe that’s it; maybe what he wants to talk about is Etta and her application to Cornell. I told him back in January that she submitted all her materials on time. Perhaps the school has contacted him to do her alumni interview. Does he have second thoughts about interviewing her because now he knows us a little too well between applying his daughter to Fairchild and being Aunt Viv’s doctor? If he doesn’t interview Etta I’m not sure I want to be seeing his face around campus next year and all the years after that. You aren’t the only who can dance this dance, Dr. Golden.

  “Umm, Mama, I think Headmistress Gooding is trying to get your attention. She’s over near the bar.” I pull myself out of my thoughts on Ty, Etta, Cornell, and his screwing up her collegiate chances. I look toward the bar and see Nan beckoning me to come over. Elsamyassistant is standing at attention nearby ready to serve, but not close enough that anyone can detect Nan’s need for a social crutch.

  “Ty, I have to go talk to the head of school. You going to be alright with these ladies? You’ll learn a lot to prepare yourself for Gracie’s teen years.”

  “I’m both curious and terrified, but yes, I’m alright. After you talk with Ms. Gooding, please come find me.” Ty seems visibly rattled and nervous. I smile and nod, but I don’t give him a verbal yes. As I walk away it hits me. How did I miss it when I have seen it dozens of times? The awkward affection at the parent interview, Daniel staying home with Gracie tonight rather than coming with Ty to Aunt Viv’s party. The golden gay couple must be getting divorced! Daniel doesn’t want to say anything until after decision letters go out, Ty can’t hold it in any longer. Sometimes it’s so easy to miss the most obvious clues.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Approaching Nan I notice she has a slight slur to her speech, no doubt the combination of two Cuba Libres and zero comida. Nan never eats in public. She’s wearing a black taffeta two-piece suit that looks most appropriate for a funeral. I need to come up with a compliment to thaw the inexplicably icier-than-usual vibe I’ve been getting this week while bustin’ my hump to be extra nice.

  “Your drop pearl earrings are beautiful, Nan. Are they a family heirloom?” I ask with a gracious smile and warm eye contact aided by alcohol.

  Nan looks away after a glance. “Not everything’s about family, Josie. You would be wise to think more critically about the ramifications of always putting family first.” Okay, I’m not sure what to do with that random comment coming from Nan, or the Cuba Libres, and I’m not sure who’s doing the talking. “I’m going to give my speech now and present Viv with her gift. Yes, I, too, have a surprise gift for Viv. My gift may cause you to want to adjust your brief remarks, so I suggest listening closely. You aren’t the only one capable of surprises, Josie. And speaking of surprises, I forgot to thank you for your suggested meeting with Meredith Lawton. It was most informative.” Nan’s breath could be lit on fire she reeks so strongly of Captain Morgan rum.

  “Two can play at your game, Josie. I’m feeling very underappreciated for all my effort on behalf of your family.” Nan’s elbow slips off the bar and she stumbles but catches herself mid-chastise. “You know, I am unbelievably busy and I was still able to find the time to pull together this night on a level Fairchild has never seen before. I have taken care of you, Viv, and that daughter of yours and how do you show your appreciation? By going behind my back, that’s how. Now, please go make sure your aunt Viv is ready to take the stage.”

  I’m starting to feel nervous. This is a step above Nan’s usual nasty behavior, one I haven’t seen before and there’s nothing about it I like. I bite my tongue to avoid clappin’ back with something I’ll regret. I pray Nan’s gift to Aunt Viv is small and can keep the focus of the evening on her celebration instead of turning the spotlight to Nan and her self-serving generosity. Or her distaste for me.

  I tell Nan I can’t wait to hear what the gift is to keep the conversation neutral. I don’t want a battle of the bitches since Nan is clearly gearing up for a fight.

  “Do you need help up the stairs?” I have to ask as she teeters a step away from the bar toward the stage.

  “No, Josie, I’m fine thank you. Where’s Elsamyassistant?” Nan hands me her drink, looks around but doesn’t register Elsa right next to her and weaves toward the stage parting the crowd on her own. I head the opposite direction to grab Ty and Aunt Viv but am ambushed by Meredith Lawton.

  “You know I took your advice and met with Nan. In our meeting it became clear to me that you have not been doing everything in your power to ensure Harrison a spot in the incoming kindergarten class. Nan and I talked at length and she assured me a kindergarten spot for Harrison; she only needed a small favor from me in return. Though Christopher is unable to attend, I’m here tonight to support Nan in her speech for Aunt Viv. Nan asked me to be here.” Great that Meredith took my advice to heart and successfully climbed the admissions ladder from Beatrice Pembrook, to me, to Nan. I’m thankful that any future early morning meltdowns over Harrison’s education can happen at Nan’s house, not mine.

  “I’m so happy you and Nan have gotten a chance to know each other, you two seem like a formidable pair, but I need to find my aunt Viv. Nan’s about to thank her for her service.”

  “Yes, we are becoming fast friends, Nan and me. I’m so looking forward to hearing her words of thanks to your aunt Viv. Oh, and by the way, Josie, I thought you told me you were not in contact with Beatrice Pembrook?” Meredith asks and accuses at the same time. How quick she is to drop me like last year’s must-have designer handbag.

  “I’m not. As I’ve said to you before, Meredith, Beatrice’s children are long out of Fairchild.”

  “Interesting. Then why did I see a text on your phone from her about a scholarship the morning I stopped by your house in crisis and you could barely spare me two seconds of your time? And, my oh my, was Nan surprised when I mentioned it to her the next day at our meeting.”

  I don’t think ruining lives is what Steve Jobs envisioned when he developed the iPhone.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Mama, Ms. Gooding doesn’t look so good,” Etta whispers in my ear as the audience watches Nan wrestle the microphone out of its stand. Aunt Viv, Ty, Roan, and Etta have gathered around me. Lola is nowhere to be found. Though she likes to pretend she’s a minimalist parent, I’m positive she’s in the bathroom talking to Nic making sure no one has veered off the four pages of instructions she left to ensure everyone is still breathing and the hous
e is still standing by the time she gets home. “You don’t look so good, either, what’s going on?” Etta asks, and I shake my head. This is not the time or the place to let Etta know I have risked her college tuition—hell, our entire family’s financial stability—on a catfight I wanted to win with Nan over how to honor Aunt Viv. I feel so childish standing next to my grown daughter.

  I have my phone ready to take video as soon as Nan begins to gush about Aunt Viv. It won’t be sincere. Nan will put aside her fury at me for secretly contacting Beatrice and put on an Oscar-worthy performance to convince the gathered party how much she cares about Aunt Viv, after she describes how well the school year has been humming along with her at the helm. Meredith has planted herself to my left and offers Nan an enthusiastic golf clap.

  “Now for the main event of the evening,” Nan continues, after exhausting her list of recent accomplishments. “I would like to invite our guest of honor, Vivian Bordelon, and community-at-large member, Meredith Lawton, to join me on stage.” Aunt Viv looks at me like I put one past her, her stare down informs me that once we are out of the public eye she will torture me mercilessly. I feign shock to match hers. I mouth to her I have no idea what’s going on as she heads over to the stage followed by Meredith. Meredith offers her a hand to help her up the stairs, but Aunt Viv vigorously waves it away. She plasters a smile on her face, lifts the skirt of her dress just an inch and climbs onto the platform with her chin raised. I capture it all on video because I’m terrified and curious at the same time about the surprise that awaits us.

  “I spent months considering what would be the best way to commemorate our dear dedicated, hardworking Vivian Bordelon for her fiftieth year at Fairchild. I know for many, your fondest memories of Fairchild are the bell that would ring to signal hot cookies coming out of the oven, the thoughtful snack boxes complete with individual notes Viv made for traveling sports teams, and my personal favorite, the quiches she bakes and sends home with me when she knows I will be working late into the night and won’t be able to make myself a proper supper. Dairy free of course.” Nan pauses and pats her stomach allowing a moment for the audience to register her svelte figure. “In these hours I’ve reflected on your career, dear Vivian, I’m in awe of how much you have done for this community while raising your niece, Josie Bordelon, and your grandniece, Etta Bordelon, all on your own. Single parenting can’t be easy. That is why I’m thrilled to announce that I, in partnership with the brand-new Lawton Family Foundation, have started, for the upcoming year, the Vivian Bordelon Scholarship for a qualified student of a single parent to attend Fairchild School.”

  Aunt Viv’s jaw drops. Nan takes a bow, tipping too far left but catching herself on Aunt Viv’s sleeve. Meredith Lawton continues her golf clap from the stage staring right at me.

  “Next in the evening’s events Vivian’s niece, Josie, was meant to give a few brief words, but she’s a bit speechless after hearing of my generous scholarship. I think at this point in the night it’s time to raise your glasses and give a big VIVA LA VIV toast! Let the dancing commence.”

  Aunt Viv gives Nan a strong hug that makes sure to hold her up, so they can exit the stage together before Nan embarrasses herself. Meredith waves to the ongoing applause and follows two steps behind for an extra set of hands. I continue to video, my utter shock keeping me from knowing what to do next.

  As Nan brushes by me she stops to spread the last of her drunken cheer, “Don’t you ever go behind my back and try to upstage me. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about you asking Beatrice Pembrook of all people for money for your piddly scholarship? I hold the purse strings on all the current money and future funding for this school. You can’t even buy a bottle of Perrier for your school tours without going through me first. You think just because you’re a black female administrator you can get whatever you want, whenever and however you want, without working hard for it like I’ve had to do? That diversity is on your side? Well, I’m here to tell you that you can’t. I won’t allow it. I had to fight hard for decades in a field of stupid, unqualified, balding, preppy men to be taken seriously as a female leader in this male-dominated industry. If you think I’m going to let you sashay through the halls of Fairchild all black power and upstage the years of fighting and climbing I’ve had to do to come out on top, you are seriously mistaken. I’m not your mentor, I’m not your friend, I’m not here fighting for social justice, and I’m certainly not your cheerleader happy to pave an easier road for you. I’m your competition, so you better watch out. If it weren’t for Fairchild—and for me—you would have been nothing, your daughter would be nothing, and most certainly your aunt Viv would have nothing. Remember this, your job security and your aunt Viv’s job security rests on my mood, and right now, my goodwill has run dry.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  If this were a BET made-for-TV movie, I would be taking out my earrings right now readying myself to claw that bitch’s face off. But it’s not, so I do the next best thing.

  JOSIE

  LO. WHERE THE F ARE YOU?! You missed it all go down HARD. I’m about to send you an e-mail. Check it. Then come find me ASAP!

  9:12 P.M.

  My phone was on the entire time Nan was laying down the heat. I can’t believe Lola missed this whole thing. While I didn’t get Nan’s face on-screen dishing out drunken threats, I did get her voice loud and clear going dark and nasty on me. And thank God I did because Lola would never believe me otherwise. I hurriedly tap an L to pull up my contacts list and shoot Lola the video file on the down low. When complaining about Nan, Lola has sometimes said I’m just used to Dr. Pearson, who was always sweet on me. Lola assumes any woman who goes into education is way, way too compassionate, kind, and hell-bent on improving the world. Present company excluded.

  While Aunt Viv is showing her framed letter of recognition to another flock of admirers, Ty startles me by putting his hand firmly on my back to steer me someplace out of the fray. All I can think about is what bothers Nan more: me being black or me being female? Or is it the combo that has sent her over the edge? Where is Lola and why is Nan such a ghastly drunk? AND WHERE IS LOLA?

  “I’m so happy to see Aunt Viv enjoying herself tonight, but what’s up with your boss?” Ty says, leading me past the dessert table.

  “Long story, but short version is she hates women.”

  “Ouch. I want more on that later. Right now I need to talk to you.” Dr. Golden has no idea what just transpired, nor the fact that my interest in hearing anything he has to say is zilch. I want to hunt down Meredith and hopefully come across Lola on my witch-seeking mission, but Ty body blocks my path and steers me deep into a quiet corner. This night has become an utter disaster, what a waste of a good dress and spectacular shoes. Let’s get it over with, Golden Boy so Etta, Aunt Viv, and I can go home, wake up tomorrow, and escape to New York for a few days. Right now, San Francisco is not big enough for Nan Gooding and me.

  “What is it, Ty? What’s so important? Are you and Daniel separating? In the throes of an ugly divorce? If so, I’m very sorry for you two, I really am, but I’m in the middle of a serious professional soap opera.” I shake my head, annoyed. Honestly I have no extra emotional energy for another person.

  “Josie . . .” Big pause . . .

  “What, Ty? Say it. You agreed to be Aunt Viv’s date tonight because you’re worried a divorce will harm Gracie’s chance of getting into Fairchild? Is that right? You want a special favor like every other just-shy-of-certifiable, playground gossiping, manipulative parent in San Francisco? Is that what you want—a guarantee for Gracie?” Ty shakes his head no. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh, particularly if he’s nursing a broken heart. Clearly my anger is unsure where to land.

  “No? So, what then—Aunt Viv has a serious heart condition and you picked this inopportune moment to tell me? You could have asked me to make an appointment for Aunt Viv. Jesus, say what you came here to say so we can get on with it a
nd end this disaster of a night. I’m so tired. Nan is pissed at me. I’m probably going to lose my job, and I have to get on a plane tomorrow and pretend to be excited for Etta to visit a college that costs upward of 70K a year for my brilliant daughter to dance around half naked.” At this moment my life feels like an endless game of not getting what I want, and I’m done with losing. “Please, out with it so I can find Lola, Aunt Viv, and Etta and bring this night to a close.”

  “I’m not gay.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Say WHAT?”

  “I’m not gay. In fact, I’m the opposite of gay. And I like you. I mean I like, like you.”

  I stand in silence. My nineteen-year-old resting bitch face is back. “What?!?!”

  “I’m saying I like you, Josie. I think you rock.” Ty’s face lights up in a huge grin, an adolescent twinkle in his eyes.

  “I told you never to say that.”

  “I know you did, but it’s true. I’m hoping you heard me say I’m not gay.”

  I’m in such a state of disbelief, my mind is stuttering. Words fail me momentarily and my jaw drops wide enough to catch flies. My stomach is cartwheeling like a second-grade girl at recess: Is it the fried plantains or maybe the ceviche turned at the buffet? I know it’s neither. This is a reaction to Ty’s big fat lie, or perhaps an inkling of excitement over his out of the blue admission.

  “Is that why you and Daniel are getting a divorce, you’ve decided you’re not gay? Is that possible? Did I make you not gay? I’ve heard of supposedly straight husbands coming out to their wives, but I’ve never heard of it happening the other way around.”

  “No, no, no, Daniel and I aren’t getting divorced—”