No Such Thing as Perfect

by Daltry, Sarah

  “So, I’ve been having a lot of sex,” she says.

  “Shocking,” I remark.

  “It’s been good, Lily. It was what I needed, because I missed you. I missed home. I felt like a weirdo, walking around in these places where I could barely ask what time it was, and I probably ended up asking what color my potato was instead. Yet I’d meet these guys… and we’d fuck. It was mindless and stupid, but I had fun and I forgot that I missed you.”

  “I am sure there are a number of things I could say or that you expect me to say, but I’m not. I missed you, too. And I’m glad you were at least distracted. Although I was kind of expecting you to tell me about crepes or something.”

  She laughs. “Sometimes, it’s lonely, though. All the sex and all the museums and clubs and everything? I’m still alone every morning. Europe isn’t a person. Random guys aren’t friends. It’s great, but it’s not what I expected.”

  “Neither is college,” I admit.

  “They don’t tell us anything. They just tell us to go be people, to go live a life, but after high school, there were no rules. I love it, but sometimes I just kind of wish someone would tell me what to do next.”

  “Are you going back for the spring? Or are you going to start school earlier?”

  “Hell, no. I love it. Like I said, it’s lonely, but I don’t even know if I want to go to college at all. I don’t think loneliness is tied to place. I’ve been thinking about why it’s lonely, but it’s because I tie it to some idea. I went to Europe thinking I would find myself or find my passion, maybe fall in love or something.”

  “But you haven’t.”

  “I don’t want to fall in love. A few guys have asked to spend the night, but I can’t wait to get them out of my apartment. I had a long conversation with myself one afternoon-”

  “While you were sitting along the Seine,” I add.

  “Shut up. No. I was in Florence actually. But it’s not right, you know? They come to my apartment with no expectations, yet I should want more? Why? I have a great time for the night and then the next morning, I can get up when I want, can go where I want, and no one bothers me. I can stand in a museum and not have to explain a painting or wonder if the person I’m with is bored. I felt so selfish, but why should I? Why don’t I have the right to be selfish? I think I’m pretty awesome. Of course I want to spend all my time with myself.”

  “I don’t think it’s selfish,” I tell her.

  “What about you? All you said is you and Derek broke up, but are you still waiting to be the perfect girl?”

  “I don’t think there’s such a thing,” I admit.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t know. When I got to school, I wanted nothing but to make things right. I wanted to do what my mom wanted, what Derek wanted. I don’t know when it changed. Not really. But I started to feel like no one was listening. I made friends at school, but I couldn’t shake the past, couldn’t let go. On Columbus Day weekend, we all came home and Derek and I went to the hill and we had sex, as always, but I wasn’t even dressed yet before he told me he wanted a break.”

  “He’s such an asshole,” she says.

  I nod. “Yeah, I know that now. But I only kind of knew it even then. I went back to school and I was trying to move on, to let it go. He’d said he would visit after my birthday, though, so it was like I was on call for him.”

  “Probably so he could try out other girls to decide what he wanted.” Although it’s painful to hear it aloud, I know it’s true and I thought the same things. It amazes me how she could see it so clearly for all this time and I couldn’t.

  “He came to my room one night and it was horrible. He was mean, Abby. Aggressive. He called me a slut and he held me down and I was afraid of him. Like honestly afraid.”

  “Did he…?”

  “No, but the thought that he might? It was so obvious and I had never noticed.”

  Abby waits before responding. I know she probably has a lot of thoughts about Derek, since I don’t think she ever really liked him, and she’s my best friend so she’s naturally angry, but she doesn’t speak at first. I run my hand over the frost forming on the inside of my window while I wait for her to talk.

  “I will do whatever you tell me to do,” she finally says. “Even though every part of me wants to ruin his life, I will keep my mouth shut if you want to put it behind you.”

  “I do. I need to. I’ve spent too much time looking backwards.”

  “Okay. Then I won’t say a word. We don’t even have to talk about him ever again. What else is happening at school?”

  I’ll talk to her about Jack, but not yet. Instead we spend the drive on the easy things – classes for me, the places she’s seen for her. For all of the things I have to leave behind to move forward, knowing Abby is heading in the same direction as me is a relief. You just can’t ignore the value of having a friend who can meet you anywhere on your path and need no explanation.

  ****

  Rockefeller Center is busy for nearly midnight on Thanksgiving. People are skating even though the rink is closing soon. Abby managed to find parking, which cost a small fortune and we’re watching people below us, the wind weaving its way through the area but it’s a lazy wind. The buildings keep out the strongest parts of it.

  Music plays from speakers somewhere and I sit on a bench nearby, sharing it with a man and his daughter. Abby gets coffee for both of us from somewhere – she seems to know how to find coffee at any hour – and I hold it, keeping my hands warm but not drinking it. No one knows we’re here, no one here knows us, and it might be a stupid tourist thing to do, but I don’t care. I like the anonymous beauty of it.

  Squeezing between me and the father, Abby settles herself and sips her coffee. “So tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “The part you’re leaving out.”

  “How did you know?” I ask.

  She looks at me sideways. “Seriously?”

  “I don’t know. It’s so complicated. There’s a guy.”

  “Isn’t there always?”

  “Yeah, that’s the problem, right? I have all this other stuff and I don’t know where to put this right now. I don’t have a place for him.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Jack,” I say and I give her the quick version. I don’t go into details about his past or his family life, although I do tell her that he has a lot of trouble at home. I briefly explain his situation with Alana, again leaving out the details that are hers, and I finish by describing the night by the lake. “It was perfect, you know? Just at the wrong time.”

  “Was it perfect? You’ve spent all this time telling yourself Derek was perfect and look at that. Don’t be unfair to any chance this has to work out. It’s not perfect, but that’s okay. The real question is how do you feel?”

  “I don’t know. I’m starting to be comfortable. It’s not only around him, but I never have to pretend with him. Maybe that’s why he made me happy that night. I don’t have to be anyone else.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “But I don’t want to move from one mess into something else. I shouldn’t need him or want him. I should be independent.”

  Abby takes my coffee and stands up, waiting for me to follow. She hands it back to me after I stand up and we make our way down the street, with no plan or direction. As we turn the corner into a crowd, she says, “Stop thinking about what you should do and just do what you want.”

  We spend the night walking, taking breaks in coffee shops and diners, until it’s morning and we head to Central Park. For Abby, this probably feels common. She’s been places I’ve only imagined from pictures or books, but for me, for someone so obsessed with order, watching the sun slowly wake the city is more than symbolic. I’m still carrying the coffee cup, cold and empty now, like a last souvenir from how things were. All of these recognitions aren’t world-changing; no one is going to start a movement about me and my broken
hopes. But I stand, taking in the world as it begins what’s just another day, and I do something I never have: I like myself.

  38.

  Suffering through the rest of the break with my mom is easier than I expected, because she seems to have decided I don’t exist. She never listened in the first place, I suppose, but for once, I don’t care. I spend the days locked upstairs in my room and head back to school on Sunday with everything caught up for school. This is the third time I’ve come back to my dorm – after moving in and the long weekend in October – and it’s different. Instead of it being heading back to school, I feel like I’m coming home.

  Kristen’s back because her stuff is spread out over her bed and the light’s on, but I don’t see her. She and Lyle were introducing each other to their families this weekend, so I imagine they’re having some kind of parental debriefing right now, followed by whatever else they feel like doing. I turn on music and unpack. Abby’s presents from Europe take up the majority of my extra bag.

  My phone lights up and I reach over, assuming it’s Abby to see if I made it back and to make plans. She’s stuck at home and I promised she could come up to visit. It’s not her, though, but Jack.

  Happy Thanksgiving. It’s been a while. No worries if you don’t want to talk yet.

  I do want to talk. I want to talk very much.

  I missed you. Are you around?

  Two minutes later, he knocks on my door. I’m smiling when I open it; it’s cute that he was waiting.

  “Hi,” he says.

  “Come in.” I make room for him on my bed, pushing a box of macarons to the side. Half of Abby’s presents are food-based.

  “How was your break?” he asks.

  “It was good. It was really good actually. What about you?”

  He shrugs. “The same as every holiday.”

  “Was it just you and your grandmother?”

  “No, just me. My grandmother goes to the prison to spend time with people there on the holidays. She feels like they’re all alone and shouldn’t be.”

  “But what about you? You’re alone then?”

  “She invites me. I just don’t feel like being there. I’m not sure I’ll ever be in a place where I feel bad about my dad being alone. He put himself there. I only visit him when she makes me feel bad about it, because it matters to her. I figure it’s the least I can do, right?” He picks up my alarm clock and starts fidgeting with it. I’m not sure he knows he’s doing it; it’s a matter of distraction and reflex.

  “I’m sorry. That’s a crappy holiday.”

  “It’s okay. Alana usually comes over and we usually end up spending it drunk. But her mom met someone and this one… I don’t know. He actually seems like a decent guy so she’s trying to get to know him. She’s more forgiving than I am.”

  “I wish I’d known. I would’ve called or something.”

  “No, it’s really okay. I did go see my mom – well, her grave. I mean, I go there every weekend, but I like spending time there. No one else goes anymore. Even my grandmother only goes once or twice a year.”

  “Wow.”

  I reach for the macarons and offer him one, not sure what to say. I kind of understand why people just shove food in your face every time you’re sad. He takes it and his eyes land on the bracelet he gave me. I haven’t taken it off since he gave it to me.

  “I never said thank you. Not really,” I apologize.

  “You didn’t have to. I’m glad you like it, though.”

  I take a bite from one of the other macarons and Jack and I watch each other in sugary silence. Kristen comes back in eventually, sees us, and then leaves with a bag of clothes, making up an excuse about needing to move her car. It’s funny how comfortable I am around Jack and yet how nervous and awkward I feel right now.

  “Do you want to go somewhere? Get dinner? Something?” he asks after Kristen leaves.

  Packing up the macarons, I move the box to my dresser and clear space from my bed before leaning towards him. He watches me, his hands spread flat against his thighs. His hair, dark and too long, keeps getting in the way of his eyes. I don’t know who reaches across the space first, but it’s gone and his lips meet mine. The taste of the macaron is still on them, sweet and foreign and overwhelming.

  “There are things I need to tell you,” I say, “but I don’t want to talk about them right now.”

  “I don’t want… I mean, I didn’t come over… You shouldn’t think-”

  “I don’t think it. I am completely aware of what happens next, Jack. And yes, I am definitely sure I want it to happen.”

  This time, when he kisses me, the voice in my head doubting it is quiet. I lean back with Jack over me. I know where this goes and I’m okay with it. I want to go there, even if we haven’t defined this or explained it. I know he cares and that’s enough. He pauses and looks down at me.

  “Lily, I-”

  “I know. Me, too.”

  Although it’s not new for either of us, everything about it feels new. He tells me I’m beautiful and I feel it when he looks at me. He doesn’t have cheesy lines about sunsets, but his eyes and hands tell me the same thing. When before it felt like an invasion, now it’s equal and it’s amazing. None of the fears I had every other time are present; nothing is present but us and the moment.

  With Derek, when it was over, it was just over. It happened and that was it and it felt like being abandoned each time. With Jack, it ends but not really. He holds me and I fall asleep with him. And he’s there in the morning.

  ****

  Abby comes up to visit a few weeks later, right before finals, and Jack has a show. I promised to cover it for the paper, which was my form of an apology for being MIA for a month. They hadn’t even noticed.

  Jack and I still haven’t given anything between us a name. I spend most nights with him, and it feels like enough. But while Abby watches me try to get dressed for the show, everything feels wrong. I’m sitting in a pile of discarded clothing. Kristen gave up hours earlier and told me she would just see me at the show.

  “I think I need you to help dress me,” I tell Abby. It’s the invitation she’s been waiting for and she begins sorting through the piles and searching my closet.

  “You literally do not own one sexy thing. I know your mom is nuts, but how did I let you go away to college looking like a pilgrim?”

  “I think I have a tank top,” I suggest.

  “Hopeless.”

  She ends up finding an olive green dress in the back of my closet. It’s a hideous thing I’ve never worn. I bought it because it was on sale and I thought it looked good on the mannequin, only to realize that I don’t look like the mannequin. Grabbing a pair of scissors and a black sweater, Abby orders me to strip. I stand in the middle of my room in my underwear while she cuts up my clothes and swears about something. Finally, though, she stands up and comes over to me with the dress. I don’t know what she did, but it looks fantastic. She somehow merged the dress and the sweater into one dress; it looks feminine and sexy and tough and it’s absolutely perfect for tonight.

  “Wow.”

  “Where am I staying tonight?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. Here, I guess. I mean, I don’t need to stay with him tonight.”

  “Yes, you do. You have less than ten days before the semester ends and I think you have some things to resolve. He’s in love with you, you know,” she says. She only met him briefly this afternoon at lunch, but I suppose our feelings aren’t unclear.

  “I do know. But neither of us has said it. It feels like… well, it’s definite. And it scares me.”

  “I get it, but Lily, I was never a fan of Derek. I didn’t like what he did to you and I didn’t like how afraid you were to be an entire person with him. I don’t think it’s Jack that scares you, though.”

  “Then what is it?” I ask.

  “I think you’re terrified of being with someone who expects nothing, who truly loves you because yo
u’re you. I don’t think you know how to live up to that.”

  I don’t reply, digging through my closet to find shoes. I come up with a pair of black combat boots that I’ve had since high school, but also never worn. Abby thought they looked badass and we each bought a pair, but then we realized that we lived in a town where people only wore combat boots if they were in the military. I don’t even know why I brought them with me to school, other than that maybe a part of me subconsciously envisioned college as a chance to reinvent myself. Regardless, I’m glad I did.

  “I’m trying,” I say, when I have the boots laced up and I’m ready to go. “I really am.”

  “I know you are. Still, one of these days you’ll realize that the best people are the ones you don’t even have to try with, Lily.”

  39.

  It’s hard to make it to the front; the club is packed. It’s slightly bigger than the last venue where I saw them play, but there are more people now, too. They’re also headlining this show. Jack says they’re not any good, but after the opening band, even more people push towards the front.

  “Lily, over here,” Alana calls and she makes room for me and Abby. Kristen and Lyle are sitting on a couch in the back, but they’re happily enjoying the music from there.

  When they come on stage, and Jack is suddenly standing inches from me, I have to close my eyes. I need to tell him tonight, to explain what happened before, but also tell him how I feel about him. I know nothing about music, know very little about the band except that it’s important to him, but when I open my eyes and look at him, the concert is just a thing. This is filler. I’ve never been around a person who makes someone else this significant in their life, but Jack makes me the center of his.

  I don’t move during the entire show. By the time it’s over, the club is full of energy. Alana introduces Abby to Neil, the singer, whom I guess she knows through Jack. Everyone is talking, but I don’t move. I stand in the same spot by the stage, waiting for him to come back.