“Are you sure about this?” I asked, and she suddenly looked pretty sad.
“No. But I may as well try it, right? What have I got to lose, except my self-respect?” She laughed a little but it wasn’t her usual happy cackle. She sounded bitter, even over the bar’s bad early 2000s soundtrack.
“Jolie…”
“No, this is good,” she told me. “I need it. How long until your car comes?”
“A few minutes. I’ll walk out with you.” I did, trailing behind her and the guy she had picked, who I guessed wasn’t that bad. Not so great, but he definitely liked Jolie.
“You ok waiting here?” she asked me, and reached out for my hand. She gripped my fingers.
“Hey,” I said, softly so the guy couldn’t hear me. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“Yes, I do. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. I’ll text you later. After.” She held my hand for a second longer and then let go and went off with her guy down the street, and I got in a car a few minutes later to go home to Brooks, which was where I had wanted to be the whole night.
He was sitting on the couch reading with Maisie asleep on his lap. I opened the door and stood a minute, just staring, because I just…I just kind of brimmed with feeling.
“Early night,” he commented, and motioned with his head at the seat next to him.
I kicked off my shoes, which weren’t heels so I didn’t completely tower over Jolie, and curled up on the couch. It felt like it had been a long week, but most weeks with kindergarteners seemed to feel like that. I put my head down on the cushion then remembered I would mess up my hair and ran my hand over it. Too late: I could feel the wildness.
“You have little drops of rain in your hair,” Brooks said, and leaned over toward me. With one fingertip, he touched an escaped curl.
I froze for a moment, with him so close. Then the unfortunate words started. “It’s pouring, cats and dogs. There’s even a twenty percent chance of a thunderstorm with this cold front,” I informed him, then could have kicked myself, because we were snuggled on the couch together (kind of), and I was giving him the weather report?
“Did you have fun with your friend? What’s her name, Jolie?” he asked, sitting back. I had ruined it. At least we were leaving off the fascinating topic of upper-level atmospheric disturbances.
“It was pretty fun. She really wanted to find, uh, she wanted to find some company, so she left after a while with him, and I decided that I would go, too.”
“Peanut, you shocked me with what you said before you left about coming home tomorrow. I didn’t imagine you in a bar like that, running after men.” His eyebrows went back up.
“I’m not running around picking up men in bars. I mean, maybe I am. Lots of women do.” Where was I going with this?
“I guess I don’t see you as a woman.” He laughed. “No, I know you’re a woman! But I still think of you as the peanut tagging along behind, the little girl whose hair got caught somehow in her bike chain on Mount Tam and I had to yank it free. You had a big broken hunk of hair right in front, and giant, sad tears on your face. Along with chocolate from the ice cream sandwich you had eaten earlier. I still remember you looking up at me, asking me not to tell your mom. That’s what you are to me, Peanut, not some man-killer in a bar.”
He smiled at me, but I couldn’t smile back at him. Because getting my hair stuck in that damn bike had hurt a lot, but what Brooks had just said, how he still didn’t see me as anything other than that dumb girl, that hurt a lot more.
I stood up. “I’m going to bed. You know how I need a lot of beauty sleep.”
“What does that mean?” he asked, frowning.
“Maisie, come!” I ordered her sharply, and the little traitor didn’t move off Brooks’ stomach. It couldn’t have been comfortable there, because his abs were much too hard and muscular. Like sleeping on a rock, but she didn’t bestir herself. “Maisie! Right now!” I snapped my fingers and she huffed.
“Here.” Brooks picked her up and tried to hand her off, but by then I was too angry at her to want her. I was furiously angry at both of them, for a variety of reasons, but mostly because neither of them loved me like they were supposed to.
∞
Jolie hadn’t texted me until very late, and then the message she sent was so weird that I couldn’t understand it. I spent Saturday morning lying in bed and talking to her about what she had done the night before as she moaned about men sucking, sucking donkey balls, mostly. The easy peasy, lemon squeezy hadn’t worked out like she’d hoped. “They suck,” she repeated, then sighed. “Now I’m without a free babysitter because my cousin is gone, and all I have is a mechanical boyfriend and a headache. Donkey balls.”
I had heard Brooks leave early to go swim, the garage under my room cranking open for him to get out his bike, and I even heard a muffled bark. He took Maisie back to the pool with him, probably sticking her in his swim bag for the ride over. I assumed she had slept in his room the night before, too. Fine, he could have her. I stayed in bed when he got back, quiet and listening, and I heard him thumping around in his room next to mine before he left again in his car.
That was when I cautiously went downstairs. By that point I was starving, and if I didn’t have some coffee soon, there was going to be a major, major problem. Maisie waited for me at the bottom of the stairs like she hadn’t thrown me over for the man who still thought of me as a child. The child with the stupid hair who had constantly tagged after him, generally bleeding or causing other issues with her ineptitude. I wasn’t that awful kid anymore. I angrily poured a cup of the coffee that he had thoughtfully made for me and pushed my dumb dog out of the way of the refrigerator with my foot to get the milk.
Then I felt bad and picked her up and kissed her. Despite the fact that she ditched me constantly for any other, more interesting human who passed through her orbit, I loved her anyway. And despite that to him I was still a ten-year-old with horse teeth, I loved Brooks, anyway, too. I felt worse.
And then here was something that tipped the situation over into the realm of just terrible: my mom called just as the coffee was starting to humanize me, and announced that she was coming over. Shit. I had very little time to make myself somewhat presentable, because not only was she coming over, she was actually on her way, and very close.
“I would always pick this as Scarlett’s house out of all the other ones on the street,” she greeted me as I opened the door. She kissed both my cheeks. “I love her taste.”
Clearly we were just going to gloss over that my mom had made me move out, and that I had admitted my aversion to her husband. “Yes,” I agreed, “Scarlett always has a good eye. How are you, Mom?” She looked great, a little tan but not too much because that was tacky, very rested (but that could have just been some facial injections she’d had in preparation for Scarlett’s big party).
“I’m wonderful.” She told me, in way, way too much detail, about the romantic time she and Kristian had shared in Bora Bora. I managed to get through it by mentally planning what I would bring for snacks to school for the upcoming week. I was really sick of yogurt. What else could I get? I pictured the dairy aisle at the grocery store—
“Lanie.”
I stopped thinking about Greek versus Icelandic. “Yes? What?”
“Show me what you’re wearing tonight,” my mom said, so we went up to my room with the unmade bed and I pulled out my dress.
She looked at it carefully. “It’s an interesting style,” she said, her voice full of disappointment. My jaw clenched. “Maybe it would be better for someone a little bustier, though, or with more, um, hips. Do you have anything else you could show me?”
“No,” I said quietly. It wasn’t that bad.
“I have a great idea. Why don’t we go together to see if we can quickly buy something new? We could go to lunch also, if you have time before your hair appointment.” She looked at my head.
Despite the multiple blows to my self-esteem, I k
new that this was her olive branch after our post-Christmas problems. “Just give me half an hour to take a shower and get dressed,” I said, sighing inside.
“Half an hour? No, take all the time you need,” she answered, eyes still on my hair.
We had a nice time at lunch, and then went shopping. Salespeople loved my mom, because not only was she famous-ish, but she looked great in everything, and she spent money like it was water. She found several things for herself and she also she found me a dress which I took back to try on. “You look lovely,” the salesperson oozed when I stepped out of the changing room to look at myself in all the mirrors. “You have the perfect figure for clothes,” she continued, which I assumed meant that I had very little in the curves department, and that she was getting excited about her commission off this extremely expensive item.
But I did have to admit, this dress was a better color and more flattering than the old dress that I’d dragged out of the depths of my closet. I hadn’t planned for anyone to really see me in it; since I was still not admitting that I would be there alone, I had decided to pop into the party, say hello to Pamela Wolfe, tell Scarlett congrats, kiss my mom, and skedaddle before anyone (Brooks) noticed me and that I was by myself. Now, with this dress and the fact that my mom had made an emergency call to her stylist when she figured out that I didn’t actually have a hair appointment, I was going to have to make more than just a brief appearance tonight.
“How is Brooks?” my mom asked as we got on the highway to go back to my house, our shopping loot spread across her back seat and my hair looking much improved. My mom had decided on and directed its styling and it had turned out well. “Do you enjoy living together?”
“We’re not living together. I mean, we’re just roommates. Yeah, it’s fine. We’re friends.”
She looked over at me briefly, turning the wheel at the same time by mistake. “Why did you sigh after you said that?”
“Did I? I had a late night,” I lied.
“He’s certainly handsome. Smart, personable. Funny, warm, engaging.”
“Yes.” Shut up, Mom.
“Who is he going with tonight?”
“A woman he knew when he lived here before,” I told her.
“I thought you two might go together. Who is your escort?”
“I don’t have an escort.” But her use of the word did make me briefly entertain the idea of paying someone…no. “Mom, you’re not hoping that something will happen between me and Brooks, are you? Because, just no. He’s all the things you just said and I’m, well, I’m me. I’m fine how I am, but I’m not…” I wasn’t my mom, and “fine” was about as good as it was going to get.
“You never know, Lanie,” she encouraged me. “You have quite a history together. That may trump…other factors. Also, you’re already living in his house.”
“We both signed the lease. It’s our house,” I said flatly.
“I just mean that men are generally lazy. They love the one they’re with. If something is right in front of Brooks, he might just accept circumstances rather than make an effort to chase after a woman who’s more…” She stopped and looked over at me briefly. “A woman who is more social,” she finished, and smiled.
I stared at the cars passing us so she didn’t see my face. I knew she meant well. She was trying to be helpful, not insulting.
She started telling me about her company’s new skincare line that they were developing, made with some special kind of dirt imported from Canada and Valencia peanuts, which she swore were going to be the next big things in the beauty product world. I listened to her talk and I didn’t cry until after I said goodbye and got my stuff out of her car. I managed to hold it in until I got on the front porch, even.
Brooks’ car was in the driveway so I let myself in very quietly, not wanting to run into him, but Maisie barked and he called my name from his office. I turned and walked quickly to the stairs, holding my new dress carefully in my arms.
“Lanie.” I stopped. “Hey,” he said to my back. “I think Maisie is really resentful about going to the pool. She left me a present right next to my bike tire to express her feelings.”
“Oh, sorry.” I kept my voice very steady. “I’ll get that.”
“No, I already did. It doesn’t matter, I just wanted to tell you because I thought it was funny. Are you all right? Where have you been?” He sounded puzzled but I didn’t turn to see his face.
“I’m fine. I went shopping with my mom for a dress for Scarlett’s party.” My back was still to him. A tear dripped down onto the garment bag protecting the dress. Shit.
“Yeah, the party.” He made a disgusted sound. “My whole family is going to be there tonight. I was thinking that we could go have a drink before the torture starts. Are you game?”
“You and me?” I inclined my head. Maybe my mom was right about proximity. Love the one—
“I mean Rosanna and I and you and…what’s his name? Who is your date?”
“I don’t have one,” I said dully. “I’m going alone.”
“He backed out on you? You’re welcome to come with me and Rosanna.”
“No thanks,” I said, and I started walking up the stairs again. “I’ll see you there.” If I could get my face not to be puffy by that point. More tears dropped, but I had a couple of hours.
“Lanie. Can you tell me why you’re seem so upset? You’re not acting like yourself.” Brooks sounded a little annoyed and it flipped some kind of switch.
I turned on the stairs. “No, this is exactly me. This is exactly who I am. It doesn’t get any better than this.”
He stared. “Are you crying? Come down here and tell me what’s going on.”
“No, it’s nothing.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t go to go out for drinks with you and Rosanna.”
“Ok. What—”
“I’ll see you later at the party.”
I went up the stairs, and by some kind of miracle, my little pig dog bounded up behind me, so that I had someone to hug when I shut the door to my room.
Maybe I would keep her.
Chapter 8
The party was as gorgeous as I could have ever imagined, and as my mom would probably tell me later in the evening, it was everything you would have expected of Scarlett. That thought made me immediately get a glass of champagne and take a large sip. I took another sip, selected an oyster with lemon oil as a waiter passed by with a tray, and I told myself to let the revelry begin. My mom was in the center of the room, holding court, so I drifted around the edges, smiling vaguely but not making eye contact until I saw Pamela Wolfe.
“Lanie, again, you look beautiful,” she said, holding out her hands. We kissed each other on the cheeks.
“Thank you. So do you. This is amazing,” I said, gesturing at our surroundings. Scarlett’s fiancé’s parents were hosting the party in their stunning house in Presidio Heights, overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge, Angel Island, and Alcatraz. And whatever work Scarlett had actually put into it, it was definitely worth it. I had been dragged around to a lot of social events over the years and in terms of decoration, this was one of the nicest. They had made the room look like a winter wonderland, with silver sparkles like snow (but nothing disco) and austere white flowers (but not too many so that it looked like a funeral home, as my mom would have noted). Everything was tasteful and perfect, just like Scarlett.
“This is exactly what Scarlett wanted,” Pamela said. Her smile was tight and strained. “Have you seen Zara? Or my son?” She tilted her head. “Did you and Brooks come together?”
“No, he’s here with another woman. I mean, he’s here with a date, not a friend like I am. I’ll try to find them for you, if you want.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m concerned—I would like to speak to at least one of them.”
I was glad to have a purpose as I edged around the room, looking through the crowd. It was easy to spot Brooks even with the all guests milling around, eating and drinking, because he stood a
few inches above most of them in his white tuxedo jacket. He was, in fact, so handsome it made me want to puke a little, which I meant as a compliment. He happened to turn as I approached and caught my eye, and he smiled, a real, happy smile to see me that warmed me all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. He broke away from the group he was standing with, the one that included his lovely date, and walked over.
“Hi.” He bent and kissed my cheek, then he looked into my face. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes.” I blushed and looked into the drops of champagne left in my glass. “Sorry if I was rude to you.”
“No, you weren’t. What was the problem, so I don’t do it again?” He smiled again and I felt all quivery.
I looked up quickly. “It was—I was upset about some things my mom said to me. She means well, but she says things without thinking about how they might feel to others.”
“I’ve noticed that some. As has my mom.”
I grabbed onto that and changed the subject. “Your mom is looking for you. I think there’s something going on with Scarlett, maybe? She seems a little upset.”
Brooks took my arm and put it through his. “Let’s go find her.” This time, I walked straight across the room, not skirting the edges. I felt like a princess—no, a queen, regal and tall and majestic. His arm was so strong and heavy, like holding onto a tree branch. But warm and alive and Brooks. I leaned into him.
My mom stepped out of her cluster of admirers and into our path. “Hi, darling,” she said, and hovered her cheek near mine. She only air-kissed when she had her full face on, like tonight.
“Lanie, I’ll go find my mom. Come get me when you’re done here,” Brooks told me, and disengaged his arm from my hand that was now clutching at the air around it instead of holding his solid, comforting presence. He nodded encouragingly and strolled off through the crush.
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