Not Perfect: A Novel

by Elizabeth Laban

  Nice was okay, she decided. You wanted nice when people called to hire you for pest control, right? Capable would have been better, probably, but she’d take nice.

  The check arrived and he grabbed it. If nothing more, she got a good meal and a few things to take home.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  She waited, but he didn’t get up. He fidgeted a little.

  “Should we go?” she asked.

  “This is a little awkward, I guess,” he said. “I’m meeting someone else after you, another candidate. That’s why I ate only one piece of the French toast. I have to do this all over again. I told my father we shouldn’t do it this way.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Tabitha said as she stood. She wanted him to continue to think she was nice. But she wondered once again if she’d ever get a job. “Well, thanks again.”

  As she walked toward the exit, she saw a young man coming toward them being led by the same hostess who had brought her to the table. As she was almost out of earshot, she heard Andrew ask the man, “What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever seen?”

  She shook her head and waited for the elevator with the uneasy feeling that he might not even know who she was after all of that, since she never said her name. Why hadn’t she just said it to make sure? If he was going to sit there and meet with person after person, he’d never keep them all straight. She didn’t feel like walking through the hotel this time. She pushed the button for the lobby, but when she got in it moved up instead of down. She hated elevators. The minute you put yourself in one, you were completely at its mercy. It could take you up instead of down; it could decide to trap you. She shook her head and breathed deeply as she felt panic beginning in her stomach. She closed her eyes and willed the elevator to arrive somewhere. Finally, it settled on the sixth floor, and even though Tabitha had no business on the sixth floor, she got out. She’d take the stairs. But as she walked down the long, elegant hall, she had an idea. Rooms should be getting cleaned. Housekeeping carts should be in the halls. There wasn’t one on this floor, but she started looking, first down to five, then she decided to go up. Maybe they started high and descended. She walked up to the tenth floor. Yup. There was an unattended cart right there.

  Once again, she was glad she had left most of her nice clothes on. If someone asked, she’d just say she ran out of shampoo. They’d assume she was a guest. But nobody came, and she took and took and took—bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body lotion. She thought about the towels but decided that was silly. She had those, even if they got ratty, they’d still be usable for a long time. She could fit just one roll of toilet paper into her bag on top of all the small bottles and still be able to shut it. She wished she had a bigger bag.

  She went back down the steps and breezed outside, her arm over her bulging bag. At home, she distributed the tiny bottles throughout the apartment bathrooms, telling herself they could pretend they were at a hotel. She stored the rest in the linen closet. She was just about to change and go back to scanning the Internet for job openings when her doorbell rang. She froze. It was rare that her doorbell just rang, since usually the doorman called up to let her know who was here. It must be someone she knew well, but who? It must be a neighbor. That was the only thing that made sense. Mr. Wilson probably wanted to borrow an egg or something—and she didn’t even have one. She had absolutely nothing extra. She formulated excuses in her head—I was just about to go food shopping this morning, or We stopped eating eggs because we are all doing this strange vegan cleanse—as she walked to the door and pulled it open. Rachel stood there wearing her yoga clothes, her royal-blue mat rolled up in a bag over her shoulder.

  “Where were you?” she demanded, walking in before Tabitha had a chance to invite her.

  “Oh shoot, I completely forgot. You know the kids were sick all week. This was their first day back. I just wasn’t thinking about yoga.”

  “Really? Because when we talked two days ago you promised you would meet me there.”

  Rachel was right. She had promised. Why hadn’t she remembered she had an interview and made up an excuse then? She could see Rachel eyeing her suspiciously. Clearly she was dressed for something.

  “Have you already been out?” Rachel asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Tabitha said. Obviously she couldn’t tell her about the job interview. “I met my aunt for breakfast. She wants to start talking about preplanning her funeral.” It was official, Tabitha was still the worst liar.

  “Oh, that’s weird,” Rachel said, but Tabitha saw her soften a little. Preplanning a funeral was a touchy subject, since Tabitha’s mother hadn’t wanted to, then at the very last minute, just weeks before she was completely incapacitated, she did it all without Tabitha’s help. She even planned and paid for a luncheon, choosing the menu items in advance. There was some strange tortilla soup and an even stranger butternut squash salad. Tabitha still thought that either the place got it wrong or her mother was trying to give her a message—but what could it have been?

  “It is weird, but I guess it’s good to get it out of the way, you know . . .”

  “Yeah, I know,” Rachel said soothingly. “So, what are you doing for the rest of the day? Do you want to have lunch?”

  “Oh. Maybe,” Tabitha said. The not having any money to pay for anything was getting tricky. “Can I call you in a little while? I just had a huge breakfast.”

  “Um, okay,” Rachel said. “How about yoga tomorrow?”

  “Yes, yoga tomorrow should work.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, as long as the kids are fine, I promise.”

  Rachel moved toward the door, then came back and surprised Tabitha by sitting on the bench in the foyer.

  “Tab, what is going on with you?”

  It would be so easy to tell her everything. But then what would happen if Stuart came back? And what about the threat? She closed her eyes for a second and saw the bottom of the note: “I’ll tell them what you did.” She swayed to the left, feeling dizzy, and when she opened her eyes, Rachel was reaching out for her elbow. Tabitha smiled.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Really, I just haven’t had enough water today.”

  “See, it’s exactly that sort of thing that makes me wonder about you, Tabitha,” Rachel said.

  Tabitha shook her head and brushed her hand through the air, as if to say it was nothing. Stuart’s words still ran through her head, and she had to work hard to look normal. Would he follow through with it? She just couldn’t take the chance. She didn’t want anyone to know what she did, or what Stuart thought she did. Her biggest concern at this point was that the kids would hear about one or both of the things—that would be the worst possible outcome. No, she reminded herself, not the worst—that may have already happened—but the worst that could happen from this point forward in a long line of possibly terrible things. She’d wait it out. There was no other choice.

  “I’m totally fine, I promise. It’s just that the kids are each having a hard time—they miss Stuart, and it’s always more chaotic when he’s away. Things will settle down. I promise.”

  “Okay, well, I worry about you.”

  “Thank you. I know you do. But you don’t have to.”

  Rachel stood up and pushed the yoga mat back over her shoulder. She went to the light switch near the door and pushed it up and down. Nothing happened.

  “It’s so dark in here,” she said. “You should really replace the light bulbs.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  On Saturday morning everyone had someplace to go—Fern to Sarina’s and Levi to his friend Butch’s to play Call of Duty on Butch’s PS4—so Tabitha happily made it to the yoga class without any problems, hoping she and Rachel might be able to spend the day together. After, though, Rachel had to get ready to go to work, and Tabitha wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She went home and showered. She wasn’t there thirty minutes before she couldn’t stand being in the quiet
apartment. The last thing she needed was time to sit around and think, so she decided to go to the Fox & Hound for the Michigan game. She told herself it was because of the food, but the truth was she was lonely and didn’t really know where else to find company, especially with people who didn’t know her and wouldn’t ask the difficult questions. She pulled Stuart’s T-shirt out from under the covers, smoothed out the wrinkles, and put it on over a white long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. She chose her navy Converse.

  It was so crowded when she got there that she thought about leaving. This was a mistake. She might be lonely, but this looked miserable. She was just turning around when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “Hey, Tabitha!”

  It was Henry, Stuart’s good friend. They had lived in the same hall freshman year. She didn’t know how to respond. What was she thinking, coming here?

  “Hey, Henry! It’s so nice to see you.”

  “Here for the big game?”

  No, just here to steal some food, she thought. “Yeah, Stu’s out of town, as you probably know, so I thought I would hold down the Michigan fort for both of us.”

  “Huh, that’s unlike you,” he said, squinting his eyes at her but not necessarily in an unfriendly way. “Doesn’t he usually have to drag you here kicking and screaming?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say ‘kicking and screaming,’” Tabitha said.

  “I was actually thinking of calling you,” Henry said, and she was glad he was off the topic of why in the world she would come to watch a Michigan game in a sports bar when Stuart was away. Henry was such a slow talker. It bugged Tabitha. It had always bugged her. “I haven’t heard from Stu in a while. I was getting a little worried. I’ve left him a few voicemails and an email. I thought for sure he’d be here for the big game.”

  “His trip keeps getting extended,” she said, smiling and nodding, acting like it was no big deal. “He should be back soon. Those miners’ contracts are always so complicated. And I think there was some talk of a strike. You know what that’s like—right? The not-so-romantic life of a lawyer? Especially one who singlehandedly runs his own firm.” She hoped Henry wouldn’t guess that she was completely making stuff up, so she added some facts into the mix. It was true that Stuart started his own firm about seven years ago, after working at huge law firms for years before that. It was also true that he somehow became specialized in mining issues, representing the actual miners’ unions in far-flung places around the country, something Tabitha always found a little odd. Whenever she asked Stuart why he chose this niche, he always waved her off, saying someone had to represent them. Now, though, with everything that she had learned before Stuart left, it didn’t seem quite so odd. Calculated might be a better way to describe it.

  Henry was just about to say something; it took him a long time, moving his head up then down, getting his tongue ready to talk. Why did Stuart like him so much? It took him five minutes to say what it would take someone who talked at a normal pace one minute to say. What a waste of time. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live with him. As he opened his mouth, she spotted the man from the other night. His name was on the tip of her tongue. What was it? Oh yeah, Toby.

  “Oh, hey, I see someone I want to say hi to,” she said, before Henry got his next word out. “But I’ll tell Stu to give you a call the next time I talk to him.”

  “Okay, but,” Henry managed to say, but she was waving over her shoulder and walking toward Toby.

  It took about two seconds for her to feel bad. Henry had always been kind to her. She didn’t mean to be mean. She was just so afraid he’d catch her in this lie. She turned to him and smiled and waved again. He did the same back to her, looking perfectly happy. Good, at least she hadn’t hurt his feelings.

  Now she wondered if she could avoid Toby. She didn’t really want to talk to him, she just wanted to get away from Henry. What if he asked her more about her time at Michigan? But Toby spotted her, too, and was heading her way.

  “How’s your daughter feeling?” he asked right away. He talked at a normal speed, which she appreciated more than usual. Also, he looked her right in the eyes, which felt good.

  “It’s so nice of you to remember. She’s fine now, thank you,” Tabitha said. “When I got back that night, my son had it. It was awful, but he’s okay now, too.”

  “Did you hold up okay?” Toby asked, like he really cared. The feeling she got reminded her of the time shortly after Levi was born when she had an appointment with the dentist. It was her first time out of the house in weeks, it seemed, and definitely the first time out alone. Stuart was home with the baby. She was so tired, so unprepared for what she had gotten herself into. When the dentist took a seat next to her and asked how she was, like he really meant it, looking right at her and patting her warmly on her hand, she had started to cry. He had been so sincere. She had been starting to wonder if she didn’t count anymore, if only the baby counted.

  “You didn’t get sick, did you?” Toby prompted her, and she hoped she hadn’t looked dumb, spacing out.

  “Oh, no, I’ve been fine, luckily,” she said. “But thanks for asking.”

  It hadn’t even occurred to her that she might get it. What would the kids have done then? She hadn’t been really sick since Stuart left. Ugh. Something else to worry about.

  “So, are you here with people?” Toby asked tentatively. “Or meeting someone?”

  She felt her wedding ring, but not by touching it with her other hand. She sensed the weight of it on her finger. Funny how she could go days, weeks, without noticing it—it was like a part of her body, but now she was so aware of it that it took all her energy to not twist it.

  “Nope,” she said. “I’m here alone.”

  “Oh, okay. So am I. Do you want to try to get a seat?” Toby asked. “I see two in that far corner over there. And we’ll still be able to see the television.”

  “Sure,” she said. Why not?

  Toby rushed ahead, hurdling the chairs in his way. He made it to the back corner and put a hand on each of the seats, hard, claiming them. Tabitha laughed.

  “It’s competitive around here,” he said when she reached him. “And I don’t mean just the game. You have to fight for your chairs.”

  “I can see that,” she said, still smiling.

  He swung a tattered black backpack off his shoulders and pulled two small banners out, which he attached to the tops of the seats. They were navy-blue and said MICHIGAN. He went back to his backpack and pulled out a bunch of ribbons and decorated what was still showing of the backs of the chairs. Finally, he yanked out a ziplock bag full of maize-and-blue confetti and threw it into the air around their general area. When he finished, he indicated that the seats were ready to be used. She just stared at him.

  “I’m glad to see you’re better dressed today,” he said, his tone light.

  “Oh, yeah, me too. That was a definite lapse in judgment.”

  “This crowd isn’t quite as forgiving as the midweek crowd.”

  “Also, a little crazier,” she said, picking up a tiny navy-blue piece of paper and tossing it at him. “Do you always carry decorations and confetti with you?”

  “Oh, I should have explained that,” he said. “I have a daughter. She’s very into crafts. I’m always trying to come up with projects for her. Oh, that reminds me. I want to take a picture so she can see I appreciate and displayed her work.”

  Still feeling the weight of her own ring, which she realized was so stupid—she wasn’t doing anything—she glanced at his left hand while he snapped the photo. No wedding band, but a very clear white line where it once sat while his hand was getting tan—so it couldn’t have been that long ago that he took it off. But she guessed it wasn’t that morning. She covered her ring with her right hand. She didn’t want Toby to see it. She didn’t want to have to answer more of his questions.

  Toby fiddled with his phone, presumably sending his daughter the photo, then he sat and indicated that Tabitha should al
so sit. Before she had a chance to ask him anything, the head of the alumni association chapter, the same guy from the other night, stood on a tall table, demanding everyone’s attention. Today he was covered from head to toe in maize and blue, with two scarves, one of each color, intertwined meticulously around his neck. Even his face was painted.

  “Okay, Wolverines,” he called. People were still talking.

  “Okay, Wolverines!” he tried again, so loudly that a few people jumped.

  “Before kickoff, I want to sing a rousing round of ‘The Victors,’” he said. “This time I want them to be able to hear us in New York! No, better yet, I want them to be able to hear us in Ann Arbor! One, two, you know what to do . . .”

  Once again, Tabitha found herself singing along. She was aware of Toby glancing at her, she assumed to see if she knew the words, to gauge how into it she was.

  “Go Blue!” they all shouted at the end, fists in the air. She felt the place reverberate. And once again, she liked being a part of it. She went to a small liberal arts college in Hartford that had no school spirit at all. Well, none that she tapped into, anyway. Why hadn’t she been more interested when Stuart was here? Why did she always fight him about this?

  All eyes were on the many television sets around their section of the bar. Toby was quiet as he watched the coin toss, which Michigan won, then he groaned when they chose to kick the ball first.

  “They should save it for the second half,” he mumbled to himself.

  Michigan kicked, the other team fumbled, and miraculously Michigan brought the ball to the twelve-yard line. The crowd went crazy. Tabitha felt her phone buzz. It was a text from Sarina’s mom.

  Hey! I don’t want to alarm you but Fern seems a little off. Can you call me?

  Tabitha sighed. She could feel her time here winding down. She hadn’t even begun to think about how to package up some food. She texted back.

  Yes—I’ll call in 10! Thank you.

  She watched the crowd as Michigan scored the first touchdown. There was another round of “The Victors,” then everyone settled back into their seats.