Not Perfect

by Elizabeth Laban

  That night she served Asian beef, and it was good. Her true talent was in the details and the packaging, both of which she knew were making it hard to actually make any money, not to mention stop losing it. They didn’t have much savings to begin with, only a little in an untouchable college fund. They had already pulled out the bulk of their savings, with a penalty, when Stuart started his own firm. When she said she felt it was only right that she have a chance to start her business with what was left, Stuart had surprised her and agreed. In the end, she had been so glad she had taken that chance. But she just couldn’t figure out how to skimp. Really, she didn’t want to skimp, and that night the meal was as high end and delicious as any. She made an amazing braised beef with soy, sesame, and ginger, which she served with a side of wonderful sushi rice, a tower of beautifully washed and crisp butter lettuce leaves, and tiny beef spring rolls, which she fried herself. She put the meal out on her app around four o’clock. The business wasn’t totally legal, since she was cooking in her own home and often for more people in a night than was okay without a professional space. Also, she was charging money, which added that other requirement for supervised sanitary conditions. But she wasn’t the only one doing it. Shepherd’s Pie, her biggest competitor, had been successfully doing it for over a year before she even started. At first, she had people pick up the orders from the lobby, but that was especially difficult and raised all sorts of questions. Once she surpassed ten customers a night, she had to change that, so she hired a delivery guy on a bike—another expense—and bought a big warming bag. She had always been a good baker, baking for local cafés here and there, but she found she loved this even more.

  They were the last customers of the night. She’d always remember that. In fact, the order didn’t go through on the app—she’d cut off digital orders because she was out of food. But they had called. At first she said no, she was finished for the evening. But they said it was the man’s birthday, and this was exactly what he wanted. Also, they wanted to eat good food at home; he didn’t want to spend his birthday out at a restaurant. She said okay, she could put together one more order. She took their information, telling them it would be ready in about forty-five minutes, and got to work.

  If they had gone the usual route, through the app, it would have prompted all the questions about food allergies and restrictions. She had thought about it so many times. Imagined saying: Just do it on the app, I’ll let it go through. Would that have made a difference in the end? She just wasn’t sure. She hadn’t listed the oil as one of the ingredients, somehow that hadn’t been done, a huge, unforgiveable mistake on her part, but maybe if they had seen it written out in the allergy section they would have said something. Maybe seeing it would have made her think to ask. What she really wanted, what she wished for more than anything, was to go back to the beginning of the call, and when they said, “The app isn’t working. It says you’re sold out, but we wanted to check just to make sure,” that she had said she was sorry, but it was true, there wasn’t any left. She wished she had said emphatically that she was finished for the night. If only she had said that, everything might be different now.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Levi Brewer didn’t really have plans to play Call of Duty with Butch on Saturday, despite what he told his mother. She was so easy these days, it was ridiculous. That was the only good thing about his dad being gone—it was easier to get away with stuff. She never would have let him walk alone before. Also, Fern had plans with Sarina—Levi thought they were going to some dumb water park in New Jersey, even though he knew Fern’s leg was still bad. What was his mother’s deal? She used to have them at the doctor’s for a stuffy nose and now with this, she was just ignoring it? She kept taking Fern’s word for it that it didn’t hurt! Didn’t she have eyes? But Levi was okay with the water-park thing, because when Fern was busy his mom was always more eager to let him go somewhere, too. It was like if they were both home, fine, but if there was the chance she could be alone, she’d pretty much do anything to make it happen. At least that’s how it felt lately.

  So Levi left the apartment and walked through the Square, right to La Colombe, where he went through his usual ritual of looking at the money and the note. But that was only the beginning of his day. He had plans. For the first time, he was going to spend some of the money.

  He had already talked to Nancy, and all he had to do was get to the school in Kensington. She was cooking all day and doing inventory, and she was so happy to have the help, she’d said. She did ask if Levi’s sister and mom were coming, too. It seemed like she would have liked that, but when he explained that they had plans, she didn’t ask any follow-up questions. That was a relief, because he was smart enough to know that it was usually the follow-up questions that got him into trouble.

  He pulled out a ten and went to the counter. He’d been there at least five times and had never once ordered a thing. But he thought he’d look older if he had a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “One small coffee, black,” he said, repeating exactly what he heard his father say so many times. He had no idea what it would taste like but, whatever, he wasn’t really planning on drinking it.

  “Coming up,” a tall guy with a man bun said, taking his ten and giving back seven and change. That’s an expensive cup of coffee, Levi thought, but he accepted the change and the hot cup and walked out. At first he thought he could order an Uber, he even had an app on his phone that his dad had set up for emergencies. But when he went through it to see if it would work, he was told that the credit card on file was no longer valid. So that was out. A cab would probably cost him at least ten dollars there, ten back, maybe more. He would be almost halfway through his money then. But he wanted to do what his dad wanted, he wanted to be able to tell him about it when he finally came home. So he opted for a bus but had no idea how to find the right one. There were lots of buses on Walnut Street, but those were heading west. He wanted to go north—at least he knew that. So he started walking north, thinking he’d eventually see a bus. He carried his coffee out in front of him, pretending to take a sip every now and then.

  Tabitha wanted to go to the Fox & Hound for the Michigan–Penn State game, but she couldn’t say no to Rachel again, so she put on a cute fall dress, even though all she really wanted to put on was Stuart’s rumpled Michigan T-shirt, and she left to meet Rachel at the Dandelion on Eighteenth Street.

  “Hi, hi!” Rachel said, as Tabitha moved toward her through the small crowd in the foyer of the English-style pub. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, and suddenly Tabitha felt happy to be there.

  “Hi!” Tabitha leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

  “They have our table ready,” Rachel said, pointing to a woman holding menus. They followed her up the carpeted stairs and turned left into the dog room which was decorated with photos of different breeds of dogs. They smiled at each other, since it was their favorite room in the restaurant, and took their seats at a comfortable corner table for two.

  “They don’t usually bring bread at lunch, but I’m going to ask for some,” Tabitha said. If she filled up on bread she could get away with ordering something small—soup maybe, or that great butter lettuce salad. Plus, they had some of the best bread and butter she’d ever tasted.

  “Sure! I want this to be a celebration,” Rachel said. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  Tabitha squinted her eyes the tiniest bit at Rachel, trying to get a sense of what she wanted to talk about, but Rachel just smiled and looked at the menu.

  “Can I get you started with some drinks?” a server asked.

  “Yes!” Rachel said quickly. “Two glasses of prosecco please.”

  Tabitha was already calculating the prices.

  “Are you ready to order?” the server asked. “Or should I grab your drinks and come back?”

  “We’re ready,” Rachel said. “We’ll have the shrimp cocktail, the Welsh rarebit, the butter lettuce salad, the shepherd’s pie, and the
fish and chips.” It was everything they usually ordered, everything Tabitha loved, but she had planned to say she wasn’t that hungry today. Now that seemed too conspicuous.

  “All great choices,” the server said before walking away.

  “So,” Rachel said, putting her hands on the table and looking right at Tabitha. “First, let me say this is totally my treat. I am going to ask you for something, and even if you say no, I want to take you to lunch. Okay? Agree to that before I tell you about the thing.”

  Tabitha tried not to look so over-the-top thrilled. “Yes, I agree. Thank you.”

  “Okay, good,” Rachel said. “Oh, you forgot to ask for the bread!”

  “That’s okay,” Tabitha said. “We’re getting so much good food.”

  “Okay,” Rachel said, and Tabitha realized she was stalling. She was clearly nervous. She was breathing heavily through her mouth, even though they’d been sitting for a while already. “So, you know Michael and I broke up a little over six months ago. I mean, of course you know that, but I’m just setting the scene. And you know we broke up because he didn’t want to take the next step, or the one after that, or any future steps with me at all, which really sucked.”

  For a minute, Tabitha thought Rachel would cry. It had taken her four months to be able to mention Michael without crying. She watched as Rachel shook her head.

  “Again, just setting the scene,” she said. “This is not about him.”

  “Okay, good,” Tabitha said, encouragingly.

  “And I’m just tired of waiting for the right guy. I’m worried that I’ll find someone I like, someone who seems to like me, and then I’ll waste a year or two years, and I’ll end up right back in this same place, only older.”

  “No, that won’t happen,” Tabitha said, reaching across the table and patting Rachel’s hand.

  “Just hear me out,” Rachel said.

  The server brought over the prosecco. It was bubbly and delicious looking in its tall, elegant glass.

  “Cheers,” Tabitha said, holding hers up.

  “Oh shoot, I didn’t time this right,” Rachel said. “I meant to be finished with my speech so we could toast. Oh well, cheers!”

  They clinked glasses, and Tabitha took a huge, long sip. Then she stopped herself. She wanted to make it last.

  “I’m just going to get to the point,” Rachel said, looking down at her lap and fiddling with her napkin. “I want to have a baby, and I’m just going to do it. Or, at least, try to do it. And while I don’t think I need a man, although, don’t get me wrong, if it all worked out and the right person came along and he didn’t mind that I had a baby, I would be very open to that. But that might never happen. And I know I can’t do it totally alone, so before I do anything—before I look into a sperm donor and find out about insemination—I wanted to ask you if you would be part of my support system. I would want you to be the baby’s godmother, but I would count on you for more than that, if you agree to this. For example, if I was really going crazy and needed a minute or sixty, I would call you and see if I could drop the baby off. If I was sick, I might ask you for help. If the baby was sick and freaking out and I didn’t know what to do, I might ask you for help. You get the picture, right? You are such a great mother—you seem to have it so together—and Levi and Fern are such great, great kids. I mean, I’ve been paying extra attention lately, and you really make them your priority. I mean, if they need you, you don’t just skip out and go to yoga class. You are there for them. That’s the kind of mother I want to be. I could really learn from you. What do you think? There is nobody I would rather do this with.”

  The words hung in the air, and if Tabitha weren’t so truly dumbstruck, she might have laughed or said that sounded a little like a marriage proposal. But Tabitha had to use her energy to keep her mouth from dropping open and from saying, Are you crazy? I’m a total mess.

  Rachel leaned in. “I know things aren’t great with Stuart,” she said quietly. “At least that’s what I’ve been assuming. But that hasn’t stopped you from taking amazing care of your kids. Where is Stuart, by the way?”

  Again, Tabitha squinted her eyes. Was this a joke? Was this Rachel’s way of getting her to confess? No, she honestly didn’t think so.

  “Still on the Upper Peninsula,” Tabitha said, “Dealing with that mining strike.”

  “All right, so you see what I mean?” Rachel said, like she’d just made her point. “You’re basically a single mom a lot of the time. We could help each other. I could help you more than I do now. It could be like a partnership.”

  “Sure,” Tabitha said, even though what she wanted to say was, Can I think about it? Can I figure out where my missing husband is and try to get some cash flow going before I commit to helping take care of a new human being?

  “Sure, as in yes, as in, you’ll do it?”

  The server placed the appetizers on the table. Tabitha lifted her fork; she couldn’t wait to try that Welsh rarebit with all its mustardy cheese.

  “Sure, as in yes, I’ll do it,” Tabitha said, putting down her fork and smiling at Rachel.

  “Thank you,” Rachel said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  When she was almost back at her apartment she checked her phone. No word from the kids. Fern had seemed better that week, so Tabitha had let her Wednesday deadline go by. Thursday was okay, Friday, a little iffy, and then today Fern practically skipped out the door on her way to the water park. The hurting-knee saga just might be behind them. That would be one big relief.

  On Facebook, she saw that the football game, which she thought started at noon and would therefore most likely be over, had just started twenty minutes before, at three, so instead of going home, Tabitha walked to the Fox & Hound. Why, she had no idea, except that she didn’t want to be alone. She felt either that she was pretending or there by proxy in pretty much everything she did lately. She’d just spent hours pretending with Rachel—that everything was fine, that she was just busy, that her marriage was not so bad, that she had plenty of money, that she had the time to dedicate to Rachel’s future baby. And talk about not really belonging someplace! The synagogue, for one, where she had no idea what was going on half the time, and now the Michigan games. It was like she was living Stuart’s life, but he wasn’t there to see it, appreciate it, or help her get through it in any way. Maybe not with Rachel, but with everything else.

  She worried a little about Levi but imagined that he was completely immersed in the land of whatever video game he and Butch were playing. Knowing him, she wouldn’t hear from him for hours. She thought about texting him, but decided not to. Maybe she’d get lucky, and Butch’s parents would invite him to stay for dinner. Fern was taken care of, at least for the afternoon. Maybe Tabitha could get away with just taking home some of the food from the sports bar and passing it off as a meal, again.

  She could see how crowded it was when she walked up. People were everywhere, standing up against the big plate-glass windows, spilling out the door. She knew the Michigan–Penn State game wasn’t the only one going on, but she imagined it would draw the biggest crowd. She walked in, pushing by people who were far younger and far drunker than she’d been in years. Suddenly, she was glad it was so crowded. It was easier to hide this way. She thought of the quote from The Great Gatsby, the one about there being no privacy at small parties, and she wished she had someone to share that thought with.

  As soon as she came around the corner, she was overwhelmed by the sea of maize and blue. She stopped and blinked for a second, the place was eerily quiet, but then the crowd erupted in crazy cheers and then, of course, “The Victors.” People were handing around a stack of small papers, each taking one before passing it on. Tabitha took one and read it. It said: “From now on—when Penn State says ‘WE ARE’—I want everyone in the room to mouth, definitely not say out loud, the word shit. They won’t hear it but they will feel it.” Tabitha shook her head—these people were nuts. She doubted anyone would actually do it. But
she watched as other people took a paper off the pile, read it and nodded or smiled, or, in some cases, nodded and smiled.

  The head of the alumni association chapter climbed onto the table in the middle of the room. His entire face was painted blue, including his ears. His hair was dyed a strange yellow that Tabitha thought nobody would really call maize, more like mustard. He wore a sparkly maize sweater and had blue gloves on with a big block M on each hand. Tabitha wondered if he was okay.

  “Wolverines!” he yelled into the crowd. His voice was hoarse. “You are doing an excellent job of keeping the energy up in this room, but I need you to keep it going. We need another touchdown! Can you guys do it?”

  “Yes!”

  “What did you say?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he put his hand to his throat, then tried again. “What did you say?”

  “Yes!”

  He pointed his blue-gloved finger into the crowd, moving it slowly from person to person.

  “I’m watching you,” he said after a few moments had gone by.

  It felt like a threat to Tabitha. Who was this guy? How did someone take on that sort of role? She’d been more and more interested lately in how people got to the place they were in life—how people established their normal, whatever that might be? She spotted the food and walked right over to the buffet. The thing was, she wasn’t hungry. Available food should never go uneaten, but she’d just eaten a huge lunch with Rachel, which she thoroughly enjoyed. Maybe this was a waste of time. She turned away from the bar and saw an arm moving out of the corner of her eye. She followed it and saw Toby waving wildly at her, smiling. She couldn’t believe it, but in all this craziness, he had actually saved her a seat. At least she thought he had. There was an empty seat next to him, decorated the same as last time, and he had his nonwaving hand on it. He pointed to the chair furiously. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling.