No Such Thing as Perfect

by Daltry, Sarah

  “Lily, you look so pretty,” my grandmother says when I make it downstairs. “Are you still seeing that boy?”

  “No, I-”

  “She thinks she’s too good for him,” my mom interjects. “Went away to college and she’s better than everyone.” With her comment securely in place, she goes off to make sure my brother cleaned his room or something.

  “We broke up,” I tell my grandmother. “I met someone else, but he’s not why. It just kind of happened.”

  “I’m sure he’s a nice boy,” she says. “And I’m sure you made the right choice.”

  “Thanks.” I reach for a paper plate, loading it with snacks, although I’m not hungry. Food is a weapon in gatherings like this. Get asked too many questions and stick a meatball in your mouth to avoid them.

  It’s only a few hours, I remind myself. There are enough people here to make me invisible and my mother doesn’t have time to focus on me. What about the next month? I ask my inner voice, but this time, conveniently, it has no reply.

  While everyone is distracted, I make my way to the living room, hoping to get a few moments of peace. I’ve barely put down my plate, though, before Jon sits beside me on the couch and turns on the TV. There’s nothing on, but he flips through the channels anyway. I almost tell him to just pick something, to stop the flashing stream of noise and images, but the doorbell rings before I can. I don’t know whom we’re still expecting, but the door opening and the noise of greetings float in from the other room while my brother continues his flipping.

  I knew it would come, and the fact that it happens this fast is probably better. Get it over with and all that. But hearing his voice, listening to my mother invite him to eat something, hearing him say he just needs to talk to me…

  My mouth is dry when he enters the room, my tongue sticking to my teeth when I try to pretend this is a casual visit.

  “Can we talk?” he asks.

  “Start talking.”

  “I’d prefer to go somewhere less crowded.”

  “I can leave,” Jon offers, abandoning me in the living room with Derek, while everyone stands in the hall beyond. I don’t want to go any further, though.

  “I said everything I had to with the cops,” I tell him.

  “Why would you say that about me, Lily? You wanted it. You were desperate for it for years.”

  “Don’t put this on me.”

  He comes closer, but I stay sitting. I won’t let him intimidate me.

  “Do you realize how much you screwed things up? My parents are pissed,” he says.

  “Maybe you should’ve listened.”

  “I stopped. I didn’t do anything to you.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I finally look up at him, make eye contact. If we weren’t in my house, around other people, he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me. “You made me feel obligated. You knew I was nervous, that I didn’t want to, that I wasn’t okay with it. What about Prom, Derek? What about the things you made me do, the things you told me you’d leave me if I didn’t do?”

  “You did them, Lily. Stop pretending you’re not a slut just because you want your new boyfriend to think better of you.”

  “You really think that’s what this is about?” I ask.

  “Well, why now?”

  “Because you can’t do this, Derek. You can’t just take and demand and get away with it. You don’t have the right to make anyone feel the way you made me feel, and I wanted to make sure you know that. I wanted you to know that if it happens again, people will know what kind of person you are.”

  He sits on the couch with me and I lean away from him, but he reaches out and grips my arm, digging his fingers in hard. His voice is a whisper, but the threat isn’t quiet. “Listen, bitch, you’re nothing and if you pursue this, I swear I will ruin you.”

  “I’m not pursuing it,” I tell him. “But if you ever threaten me again, if you ever even look at me again, I swear to God, I will. You can ruin me all you like, Derek, because if you ever try anything like this again, I won’t be quiet next time.”

  “This is your idea of quiet? I had to defend myself to cops on Christmas Eve.”

  “Maybe you should learn to listen a little better then. Now get your fucking hands off of me.”

  After he gets up, I try to let the nausea fade. I didn’t want him to see it, to know it hurt, but once his voice is only an echo in the hallway, I pull my knees up to myself and try to breathe slowly. A year. I gave him a year of my life, and that’s only if I don’t think of all the time I wasted thinking about him. How does a person spend this much time not seeing?

  “Lily, did you see Derek?” my mom asks from the doorway. “I invited him for dinner, but he said you wouldn’t want him to stay. Why would you say that? Derek’s-”

  “No, Mom, he’s not. He’s not at all,” I say. I don’t know what I expect – maybe for her to see the tears I can’t keep back and to recognize them as important? Maybe for her to listen to me, to ask what happened, to try not to judge? I just want something to happen besides more of the same.

  “I don’t understand why you can’t behave. Derek’s a nice boy and you’re being ridiculous.”

  The dizziness is like a waterfall, spilling over me as I stand. Do not show weakness to her, I tell myself. I won’t fall over. I won’t let her bother me. I make it to the doorway where she stands before looking up. She stares at me and there’s nothing behind her gaze. She’s empty; my mother is empty. I could stand here for a hundred years and she would never see it.

  ****

  I swore I wouldn’t run away, but it’s Christmas Eve and I’m sitting at Abby’s in tears. I told my mom everything, right there in the living room, and she just walked away, telling me to get out if I was going to ruin everything. I can’t care. I can’t let her do this anymore. I wish this were a movie and we would have a big reconciliation and she’d hug me and tell me she loved me, but my life isn’t the place for those things. As far as she’s concerned, not only did I fail, but I also caused problems. When I stood in the doorway and tried to say goodbye to my father, who just looked sad as I left, she told me that if I pursued this with Derek, I could find another place to live for good.

  “What can I do?” Abby asks.

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Thanks for letting me wait here. Jack should be here soon.” I texted him right away, but I didn’t tell him why. I just asked him to come and he’s on his way to get me.

  “I’m glad you went,” she says.

  “To the cops?”

  “Yeah. I know you’re not sure, but even if you do let it go, people know. Someone knows, Lily. It makes it not your problem anymore. And he’ll always know it’s there. It’s not going to go away and maybe he’ll think next time.”

  “Maybe.” I suppose this should feel like a victory, but it just feels like my boyfriend was an asshole and my mom hates me. I don’t regret going to the police; I only regret that it happened at all. “She just stared at me, Abby. She looked right through me and all she was worried about was that I messed up her plans. What the hell is wrong with her?”

  “Oh, Jesus, Lily. Short or long list?”

  At least it makes me laugh. It’s an ironic and somewhat depressing laugh, but it’s still a laugh. Nineteen years – and most of them spent trying to please someone who is incapable of being pleased. My best friend has been here for more than half of those years and she’s seen it all, but she never pushed. There are likely people who would be upset with Abby, mad that she knew and she didn’t force me to face it, but I’m not. I wasn’t ready to see it and I would’ve lost her, too. I would’ve shut her out because I didn’t want to know.

  “I’m lucky I’ve got you to put up with my crap,” I tell her.

  “I’m your friend. It comes with the territory. And now, it’s Christmas Eve and your super amazing boyfriend is on his way and your mom and that asshat, Derek, aren’t going to ruin even one more second of your life, okay?”

  I nod, wiping the tears a
way, knowing it’s not that simple, but wanting it to be. Even for one night. I could have yelled at my mom, could have made a scene, could have told her everything she was, but it was energy I would have exerted on someone with no substance. Abby’s right; they don’t warrant that kind of effort.

  “Abby? Lily? Do you want some ham?” her mom calls up to us. They’ve been waiting to eat, waiting for me, because I came over and interrupted their night.

  “Sorry about messing up your dinner,” I say to Abby after she yells back that we’ll be right down.

  “There are three of us, and a ham. It can wait. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  I don’t want to eat their food, but Abby’s mom insists and fills a plate full of ham and potatoes for me. She doesn’t ask what happened, and Abby’s dad just asks about school and my classes and everyone pretends this is perfectly normal, that there’s always some sad, broken girl sitting at the table on the holidays. I easily slip into their reality, though, and it feels healthy to tell them about what I’ve been reading and the paper and Kristen and Lyle. So healthy that I don’t see the lights in the driveway, don’t register the knock on the door.

  Jon stands on the steps, segmented by the screen door, which my mom would say should have been swapped out by now for a storm door, and slowly gathering snow. The white flurries spin under the porch light.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask from the other side of the screen. Abby’s parents take their food and go somewhere else and she tells me she’ll be upstairs if I need her.

  “I heard what you told Mom.”

  “Look, I know. I’m a failure, right? How dare I say anything about poor, perfect Derek, when it’s my own fault he didn’t want me. It’s Christmas Eve and I’m not coming home, not now and maybe not ever, and I don’t want to hear it, Jon. I don’t want to listen to your excuses and I’m not going to stand there and have her blame me.”

  “I don’t…” He pauses and flicks the snow off his shoulders and shakes it from his hair. “I should have known. He’s a dick, but who cares? He was just my friend. And when you started dating him, it was weird and I didn’t know how I felt about it, because I knew what he was like, but you were happy. I thought you were happy with him.”

  “How many times did he cheat on me at school?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. There was one time, right after we came home for your birthday, and he didn’t come back to the dorm all night. I asked him, and he told me he had to deal with some things, and I didn’t want to get involved. It wasn’t my business, Lily. You were old enough to decide and we weren’t close. I couldn’t just start dictating how things should be for you.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “I’m sorry. I let you down. And I just wanted you to know that I believe you.”

  I open the door and step outside, sharing the small space on the steps with my older brother. It’s been years since we’ve even looked at one another and the tiny step is still a lot of space to cross. “I don’t know if it’s that easy,” I admit.

  He nods. “I know. But I just didn’t want you to leave like this. I promised you, a long time ago, that I’d look out for you. I haven’t, and I’m sorry. It was easier to stay under Mom’s radar when she was always focused on you and I let you deal with it all. And Derek… I should have been there.”

  “It’s over now. You weren’t, but this isn’t on you. And maybe, when things settle a bit, maybe we can get coffee or something. Catch up. Get to know each other.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” I brush the newly accumulated snow off his shoulder, but we don’t hug. After a few more minutes of awkward silence, he wishes me a Merry Christmas and leaves. I don’t head in right away, watching the car until it disappears at the end of the road.

  43.

  It’s funny that we’re standing by another lake. The night is quiet, though, because the snow has driven everyone inside.

  “How do you feel about it?” Jack asks.

  “Good. I really do. Sure, there are things I wish were different, but I’m not staying there, and I’m not going to sit back and be silent. I’ve been that girl for too long.”

  Maybe I change my mind and I call my mother tomorrow. Maybe I call her in a week, or a year. Maybe I never call. After a few days, I might decide to stay with Kristen instead, or come back here with Abby. I don’t want to start my relationship with Jack this way – needing him – but right now, it works. If that changes, there are other options. The greatest comfort, though, is that any choice I make, any decision, is mine. Entirely. If it’s a mistake, I own it, but I think I’m okay with that.

  “I never told you about the trees,” I say. “That night – I told you about my imagination, about the lake and the moon, but I said I’d realized something about the trees, and I didn’t tell you. It sounded stupid in my head and I didn’t want to try to explain it.”

  “You can tell me now.”

  “Well, it’s… You know how things have been, right? There was nothing more terrifying than change, because change meant learning the rules all over again, and if I already couldn’t stop screwing up…”

  He reaches for my hand and brings me close to him, standing behind me and wrapping his arms tight around me. The snow barely touches me when he holds me like this, landing on him instead. “I hate when you say that.”

  “Say what?”

  “It’s not screwing up to be someone, Lily.”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to get that now, but then… Anyway, I was in the woods and I was thinking about how much things change, about how they were so different, about how I was different. Most nights, I would fall asleep, so scared of waking up the next day and finding out that things had changed, of not knowing what to do next and making a mistake.

  “There were only about eight leaves left on the trees. They were basically bare, and I didn’t really even see them. But while I was standing there, thinking about change, one fell. It was just a leaf, brown from the snow and cold. I was looking up and it floated down over me, perfectly lined up for me to catch it. I did, and it probably sounds ridiculous, but it made sense, Jack. The trees change every year, right? Every winter, they die, and then they start over in the spring. And they’re still beautiful.

  “I’d known it that day, but it took me another year to understand. That’s it, though, isn’t it? We celebrate their changing.”

  I step away from Jack so I can face him. It’s too dark to see his features in the shade of what’s left of the trees. “I’m still scared of making the wrong choices,” I admit.

  “The only thing that matters is making them,” he says.

  In a life of blank pages, the story doesn’t fill itself in overnight. It’s not about getting the right words and putting them together, just so they can fit where the emptiness lays. Once the pages are turned, they remain empty, and covering the ones that follow won’t change that. But for every new blank page, there exists a new photograph, a new memory, and a new story to tell.

  Reaching my hand up to move Jack’s hair from his eyes, I try to remember his face right now. The way he looks tonight, because tonight is just one page, one memory.

  Someday, he won’t look the same. Someday, it will be sunny or we might have argued or he’ll have slept poorly the night before. Someday, I won’t care about something my mother said. Someday, Jack and I will be different people and maybe we’ll still love each other with all our imperfections, or maybe we won’t. Someday, I will look back at this night, at this girl, and I won’t remember how I was her, either. All of these somedays are alternate realities right now, but they’re sitting alongside all the possible ways our lives could go, an endless and vast series of opportunities and concepts.

  I don’t know which one of those somedays will fill our story, will make up next week or next year. I don’t know who I will be the next time I stand by this lake, when spring comes and the trees change again. I don’t know what tomorrow will look like, but I really, rea
lly cannot wait to find out.

  About the Author

  Sarah Daltry writes YA fiction, plays too many video games, obsesses over British TV, loves animals, and has a sarcastic remark for anything. She’s also a recluse who’s likely nearly transparent given how little she leaves the house. You can find her online at http://sarahdaltry.com.

  Did you love No Such Thing as Perfect? Then you should read The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock: A Modern Reimagining by Sarah Daltry!

  A modern reimagining of the classic poem in novella form.

  A man, bewildered by time and memory, begins to lose touch with what is real and what he has imagined. Told in breaks between memory and now, he narrates his emotions as he recalls the man he was, the man he had hoped to be, and how he became the man he is.

  About the Author

  Sarah Daltry is a varied author, known best for the contemporary New Adult series, ‘Flowering’, a six-title series that explores the complexities of relationships, including how we survive the damage from our pasts with the support of those who love us.

  As a former English teacher and YA librarian, Sarah has always loved Young Adult literature and ‘Dust’, an epic fantasy novel where romance blends with the blood and grit of war, is her second official foray into YA, following the gamer geek romantic comedy, ‘Backward Compatible’. Most of Sarah’s work is about teens and college students, as it’s what she knows well.

  Sarah’s passion in life is writing – weaving tales of magic and beauty. The modern and vast social networking world is an alternative universe that she makes infrequent trips to, but when she does, readers will find her attentive, friendly and happy to discuss the magic of stories and reading. Please stop by and say hello anywhere Sarah is online!