Your Perfect Life: A Novel

by Liz Fenton

  And it felt great getting so much praise and positive attention from the staff and crew. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even heard a thank-you from someone in my family.

  But even so, as I drive over to my house for dinner, I can’t believe how much I miss them. I felt an ache in my chest when I didn’t hear the baby cry this morning. I even missed having to wake up Audrey. I was so homesick I would’ve welcomed a fight with Sophie over what an appropriate bra for a fourteen-year-old looks like. Not to mention the anxiety that kept me up half the night. What if Casey leaves something small on the ground that Charlotte can choke on? Or what if she doesn’t tighten her car seat straps after she buckles her in? And will she make sure that Sophie isn’t turning into a future member of The Bad Girls Club?

  And then there’s John. Dare I say I actually miss him too? Unless he was traveling for work, I rarely went more than a day without seeing him. And there’s a comfort sleeping next to him in the bed each night. Although having Casey’s California king bed all to myself last night wasn’t so bad either.

  • • •

  I open the door to my house and hear the familiar buzz of the family chatter in the kitchen. I fight back the tears as I walk in to discover Audrey and Casey laughing in a way I can’t remember laughing with her. And I’m struck by a horrible thought: Is Casey doing a better job than me? Struggling to find the confidence I had just an hour earlier at GossipTV, I walk into the kitchen and plaster a smile across my face. It doesn’t matter how I feel. I have to be Aunt Casey now.

  CHAPTER 9

  * * *

  casey

  I rifle through Rachel’s soft leather satchel to find the checklist I finally printed out because I was referencing it so much. I’d also given Rachel instructions on how to live my life, but mine were verbal and consisted of not much more than the warning, “Just don’t get me fired.” Rachel had taken her instruction list to the next level, even making me practice CPR on one of Charlotte’s dolls. “I’m not an idiot!” I told her, but deep down I did worry that something terrible might happen on my watch.

  The weight of being entrusted with the most important people in Rachel’s life is overwhelming. Looking down at the weekly calendar she included in my packet, I find today’s date and see that I have a play date at the park with someone named Hilary and her daughter, Melissa. Okay. I can do this. How hard can a play date be? I wish my life consisted of play dates all day, although I’d prefer to play with a twenty-five-year-old with a baby face, not an actual baby.

  The first order of business is getting Charlotte into this damn stroller. I’ve interviewed some of the biggest celebrities, clawed my way up one of the trickiest ladders in the world, yet I can’t figure out how to work the buckles on a baby carriage.

  After ten minutes, sweat is running down my back and Charlotte is on the verge of a meltdown, so I give up and decide to carry the baby to the park instead. How hard can it be? I put her on one hip, sling her enormous diaper bag over my shoulder, and start to walk the five blocks that quickly feel like five miles. I have to stop and readjust Charlotte and the damn bag—that weighs more than she does—every few feet. “Do we really need to put your entire house in one bag? Is the kitchen sink going in here too?” I had joked to Rachel.

  But she was adamant. “Trust me, Casey. Never leave the house unprepared. It’s the first rule of parenting.”

  And for the most part, I listened. But not all the items would fit, so I just made an executive decision on what was really necessary for a trip to the playground and I ditched the rest. I can’t even imagine how heavy it would’ve been if it had everything in it.

  I look around for the woman that Casey described. Tall, thin, with long blond hair. I see a woman matching her description and pick up my pace. I’m about to call out to her when I hear Rachel’s name being called from behind me and I turn to see another taller, thinner, blonder woman walking toward me. She’s wearing a beautiful heather gray wrap sweater and matching TOMS flats.

  “Where are you going?” She looks at me like I’ve gone crazy. “We always sit over there.” She points to a grassy area by the slide with her perfectly manicured hand.

  “Oh, sorry, Hilary. I just thought I saw someone I knew.”

  “You’re such a space cadet,” she says condescendingly. I try not to judge her too quickly. From what Rachel has told me, she’s one of her best mom friends. And Rachel wouldn’t be friends with someone who treats her like crap, right? From my experience in her body so far, she’s got John and the kids doing that.

  John. I made the mistake of trying to talk to her about him on the phone this morning, but she wasn’t having it. “Casey, please don’t start judging my marriage. You’ve been there for one day, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I’m not judging. I just want to know if he’s going to lift a finger while I’m here.”

  “Don’t count on it,” she said, and quickly changed the subject back to how we could get our lives back. After her conversation with the bartender, we were no closer to figuring out how to do this and we were both starting to panic that we might be stuck in each other’s lives—and bodies—for the long haul.

  “Remember when Jamie Lee Curtis let her daughter miss their engagement party to go be in that band contest and then her daughter gave her blessing for Jamie Lee Curtis to marry Mark Harmon? That’s how they got to change back.”

  “Yes, but this is real life, not some crappy remake of a crappy movie.”

  “True,” she replied.

  “Plus,” I continued, “what’s the lesson here? Being in your body, in your role as supermom, is just reinforcing why I haven’t had kids.”

  “Okay, they’re not that bad,” she said defensively.

  “Oh really? Does Audrey scream at you like that every morning, or was it just my lucky day? And when did Sophie decide she wants to be the next Britney Spears?”

  “She wants to be like you, Casey.”

  “Even worse!” We both laughed.

  • • •

  I sit down on the colorful quilt Hilary spread out and try to relax. Keep the topics simple, Rachel warned.

  “So how was your reunion?” Hilary jumps right in as she carefully unpacks the applesauce I’m quite sure she pureed herself. “I’m dying to hear every last detail!”

  “It definitely had its share of ups and downs,” I say truthfully as I set Charlotte down on the blanket.

  She lowers her voice and leans in. “Oh, what did Casey do this time?”

  I’m taken aback. Had Rachel talked about me to Hilary? Why would she assume that I’d be responsible for the ups and downs? “Why would you think Casey was involved?”

  “Oh, come on. I know sometimes you get frustrated with how obsessed with work she is. A reunion is a place that can bring out the worst in people. Especially a D-list celebrity with something to prove.”

  I try to react calmly. D-list, my ass! “Well, first of all, since she mainly only interviews A-listers, I’d put her on the B-list at least, especially considering her Emmy win. And I know she’s a workaholic, but she still really cares about me, about what’s going on in my life.” And that was true. Rachel was still the most important person in my life. But did I ever stop and tell her that? Or was I as bad as John and the kids were? Taking her for granted. Even being Rachel for just one day, I was realizing how out of touch I had become with her. And how little I’d been there for her over the past few months. How Destiny had been right, yet again. God, I hated and loved that about her.

  “Well, you’ve really changed your tune about Casey.” She adds formula to a bottle and shakes it up. “Good for you.” Her words seem empty.

  I’m about to ask her specifically what the hell Rachel’s been saying about me when I smell something foul. I look over at Charlotte, who has a very serious look on her face. Like she’s trying to come up with the answer to something really complicated, like how to solve global warming or understand why Paris Hilton is still considered a cele
brity.

  “Oh, someone’s got poopy face!” Hilary sings in a high-pitched voice.

  There’s a face?

  I pick up Charlotte carefully and quickly realize that this is not any ordinary poop. It’s like a nuclear explosion that seeped all over the Burberry outfit I bought for her a few months back and fished out of the back of her closet this morning.

  “Oh, shit!” I shout.

  “Rachel!” Hilary cries out and covers her baby’s ears. “Language!”

  “Sorry,” I stammer as I frantically dig through the diaper bag to find the wipes. I pull them out and lay Charlotte on the quilt quickly, remembering too late that I should’ve put a changing pad down first. As I pull her pants off, poop spills out onto Hilary’s blanket and Charlotte’s poopy face has turned into a full-fledged grin. I smile, remembering Rachel’s warning that I’d better not let anyone see me sweat when it came to handling a number-two situation. Especially not a mom friend.

  Hilary moves her things away, afraid of what might happen when I open the diaper. You’re not the only one who’s afraid, sister.

  Ten disgusting minutes and a whole package of wipes later, I’ve got the problem under control. But now I understood why Rachel was so insistent that I pack an extra set of clothes. Too bad I didn’t listen.

  After giving Hilary an awkward apology for getting poop on her blanket, blaming my amateur diaper-changing skills on a sleepless night, I grab Charlotte, clad only in a diaper, and make the walk of shame back to Rachel’s house, the $250 Burberry outfit I bought for her now lying in the bottom of a park trash can.

  “Stop laughing!” I beg Rachel later as I tell her the story. We’ve locked ourselves in the den with Charlotte, going over every detail of each other’s day. Thankfully, she brought take-out with her for dinner and saved everyone from my cooking. I think the kids were wondering why their Aunt Casey had A) been thoughtful enough to bring dinner and B) seemed so incredibly overjoyed to see them. It was the first time we’d all been together in many months, and given our old switcheroo, I’d say it was awkward at best.

  • • •

  “Mom, can you pass the pasta?” Sophie asked me.

  Rachel sprang out of her seat to grab it and I gave her a look and took it myself. “Here you go,” I said as I set it in front of her.

  “Make sure you have some vegetables with that,” Rachel added. Everyone at the table looked at her like she had two heads.

  “Aunt Casey, since when do you care what we eat?” Audrey laughed.

  “Yes, Aunt Casey,” I said pointedly. “I’m perfectly capable of making sure the kids eat properly.”

  “Sorry,” she said and poked her fork around her plate. “Just trying to help.”

  “You can help by giving us all the latest scoop on Ryan McKnight!” Sophie chimed in. “Was he really cheating with that hooker in the hot tub?”

  “Sophie!” Rachel and I scolded her in unison. I gave her another look. Let me handle this. I can do it. Just trust me.

  “That’s inappropriate dinner conversation,” I said to Sophie.

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes at me and pushed her plate away.

  I could feel Rachel’s eyes burning into the side of my head. She wanted me to do something. But what? Did people still send kids to their room? I was trying to decide what to do when John interrupted me. “You are not allowed to talk to your mother that way. Hand over your cell phone for the night.”

  “Dad! That is so unfair!” Sophie screamed as she got up from the table, grabbed her cell phone out of her backpack, and slammed it onto the table before running upstairs to her room and slamming the door too.

  Relieved, I turned to John. “Thank you,” I said as I touched his arm.

  He looked surprised at my gesture. “You’re welcome.”

  Rachel cleared her throat next to me. “Ahem.”

  “Sorry,” I whispered to her. And then when we realized the rest of the family was staring at me, I added, “I mean, sorry, you had to see that.”

  “It’s totally fine,” she’d said. “I’m sure she does it all the time.”

  “I hope not,” I said out loud before I could stop myself. Thankfully, everyone started laughing and I joined in, letting them think I was in on the joke.

  • • •

  In the privacy of the den, I finally get the chance to find out how things went for Rachel at GossipTV. “So, tell me every detail about your day.” I try to sound perky, not wanting to give away the fact that I’m terrified she got me fired.

  Rachel bites her bottom lip and stares off for a moment. “I think I did pretty well. Like you said, it was kind of like riding a bike; it just came back to me.”

  I exhale in relief. “I’m happy for you,” I say, although I’m happier for me. That job is all I have and I can’t afford to lose it. “That must have been fun, to get back out there.”

  “It was,” she says slowly. “It reminded me that I used to be good at something other than being a mom.” Before I can comment, she adds, “Charlie seems nice.”

  “He is. You can trust him.” Charlie and I had worked together for years. He was one of the best producers around and one of the few people on the show who I knew had my back. I decide not to mention our history to Rachel. No matter what happened between us, I know he’ll still look out for me, for her.

  “Why have you never mentioned him?” she asks with a look I’ve seen before.

  “Don’t even go there. Just because he’s the one nice guy who works in the studio does not mean he’s the right guy for me.”

  She laughs. “Okay, okay, I get it. So let’s talk about Fiona then. Oh. My. God. She was so mean today. I know you warned me, but I had no idea how bad it really was.”

  “She wants my job. She’s a barracuda. Be very careful with her,” I say, trying not to think that if Rachel can’t pull this off, if she can’t step into my shoes and do a great job, I could lose everything to Fiona. I don’t tell her this, not wanting to put more pressure on her than I already have. Rachel had always been right at home in front of the camera at our broadcasting stations in high school and college. I prayed that Rachel was right and that it all came back to her today. We were about to find out. I pick up the remote control. “It’s going to start.”

  Rachel doesn’t seem to hear me. “It just seems like a sad way to be, surrounded by people always wanting you to fail,” she says quietly as she play-kisses Charlotte, who was overjoyed to see her when she walked in the door earlier, confusing John, who made a comment that Charlotte sure seemed unusually excited to see Auntie Casey. Not surprising, considering I can’t remember the last time I’d scooped Charlotte up in my arms before the switch. It was much easier for me to focus my attention on Sophie and Audrey than it was to hold a squirming baby who could always sense I was uncomfortable.

  “I’ve never really thought about it like that,” I say, clicking on the TV. “It’s just the way things are in the business. You can’t afford to think about it too much.”

  “I guess not,” Rachel responds, but I can tell that she doesn’t really understand. The theme music for GossipTV starts playing. “So . . . are you ready to see my television debut?” she asks cautiously and I can’t tell if she’s asking herself or me.

  I don’t answer as the opening credits of GossipTV start and I try not to cringe as I see a version of myself give a megawatt smile and start speaking.

  CHAPTER 10

  * * *

  rachel

  The show starts and as my face appears on the screen, I nervously await Casey’s reaction. This is her career. Her livelihood. What if she thinks I screwed up? After everything she’s told me and what I’ve now seen firsthand about her job, I would never forgive myself if I did anything to jeopardize her career, or worse, if I disappointed her.

  We sit in silence.

  As I watch, I see the mistakes, the flaws, the places my eyes moved back and forth, making it obvious that I was reading the TelePrompTer. I see the smoke
everyone was blowing up my ass earlier. I feel so stupid that I believed their praise. I hadn’t so much as stood in front of a camera in forever and they called me great. Fantastic. I think someone even used the word magnificent. Of course the crew would never tell me if I sucked. Isn’t that how this business worked? Air kisses with a side of bullshit?

  Dean complained about me the entire time, but I thought it was just Dean being a jerk. Looks like he was right.

  Casey grabs the remote and hits pause. “Wow,” is all she says. Then she repeats it several times, looking stunned.

  I wait for Casey as she tries to compose herself. But I’m ready to take my lumps like a man. I deserve them.

  “You were . . .” She pauses and stares down at the frayed edge of the orange rug I’d been so proud to buy after reading it was the “it” color of the season.

  “It’s okay, you can be honest. I deserve it.”

  “You were really, really good.” She says the word good so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

  “Really?” Now I’m the one who’s stunned.

  “Really,” she says flatly.

  Then where is the smile? The thank-you? The relief ? “But there were so many mistakes. You saw them, I know you did.”

  “Well, yeah, I saw some. But it’s like you’ve been doing it for years. How long has it been since you’ve been in front of a camera?” Her face contorts as she calculates.

  “Since Audrey was born,” I say.

  “Over sixteen years and you walk out there and handle it just like me?” Her voice is shaky.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” I bite my cuticle.

  “Don’t do that.” Casey swats my hand away from my mouth. “That’s a fifty-dollar manicure you’re ruining,” she scolds.

  I look at my image paused on the TV screen. “I don’t get it, don’t you want me to do a good job?”

  She starts to say something, but thinks better of it. “No, I do. I do want you to do a good job. That’s what we need. To keep up appearances.”