Halfway Perfect

by Julie Cross

  Elana rolls her eyes and then I take off before I can change my mind. If I can finish my workout and get Elana back to her crazy-ass nanny in time, then I might have enough time to pick up an avocado salad before I meet Eve on campus.

  It takes me an hour to get back to Elana and Elliot. Neither of them are wearing a harness anymore. They’re sitting on the bench across from the women’s locker room, both with some handheld game device—a device that looks much too large to have fit into Elana’s tiny designer handbag.

  “How’s it going?” I say.

  Neither of them look up, but Elana says, “We’re playing Words with Friends. Have you played before? It’s so addicting.”

  Yep. Chuck E. Cheese’s would have been just fine. I do love Skee-ball.

  “You just got this game,” Elliot says to Elana. “How are you so good already?”

  She shrugs and gives him a smile before tucking her toy into the pocket of her long dress coat. “Beginner’s luck.”

  “Ready?” When she nods, I toss my gym bag over my shoulder and stick out a hand to help Elana up.

  “Nice meeting you, Elliot,” she says.

  He waves and says, “See you later, Elana. ’Bye, Alex.”

  “Later, man.” I wait until we’re out the door before throwing an arm around Elana’s shoulder and trying to look madly in love with her.

  “I like him,” she says right away. “He’s so normal. Very American, but not like you.”

  I laugh and give her shoulders a squeeze. “Thanks. Wouldn’t want you to like anyone that’s like me.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I meant. He’s more of an outsider…what is that word? I can’t think of it now.”

  “Loner?” I suggest.

  “Yes! That’s it. Loner.” She waves down a cab before I even get a chance to. “It’s like that for me too. I’m not around people my age.”

  I open the car door for her and wait until she gets in before sliding beside her. I never thought about what it might be like for Elana. “Maybe you can find a group or a club or something with girls your age?” I suggest because I don’t know what else to say. Seriously, like what? Girl Scouts?

  She stares out the window, keeping her head turned away from me. “It would be just like school. I scare people away. My mother and Lumina and everyone always tell me girls are just jealous and boys are intimidated. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it doesn’t matter. The outcome is still the same. They don’t like me.”

  I sink further into my seat, staring at the back of her head. Her tone put a note of finality on the subject that keeps me from asking questions or making more lame suggestions. But it doesn’t keep me from feeling a tiny bit responsible.

  Maybe I’ve spent too much time freaked out about the age issue and haven’t paid attention to the fact that I could be a better friend to Elana. We are coworkers, whether I agree with that choice or not.

  Chapter 21: Eve

  November 20, 4:00 p.m.

  “I would like you to choose three images to turn in to me, and each one must have a human subject,” Professor Larson says to our class. “It’s always the people thrown into the mix that make you all want to go screwing with nature.”

  Screwing with nature. God, I love this man. In the most unromantic way possible.

  After Larson dismisses us, I stroll up to his desk to ask the same question that I asked last week and the week before. “Any word on the interview schedules for the Mason Scholarship finalists?”

  He’s shuffling papers on his desk, preparing to stuff them in his briefcase, but he glances up and smiles at me. “Your lucky day, Miss Nowakowski.”

  I watch as he sifts through pages and then pulls out a single white sheet of paper with my name on the top. I scan it and see that my interview with the selection committee is scheduled for January twelfth.

  January twelfth seems so far away and yet way too close. Will Janessa have had enough time to make gushing comments about my skills and responsibility in letter form for the selection committee? Will Larson?

  “I’ll have my letter of recommendation ready for you before final exams,” Larson says as if reading my mind. “How is your job with Janessa going?”

  I tuck the paper into my camera bag. “It’s been great. We’re shooting a lookbook for Ralph Lauren now. Before that, we did a spread on New York City statues that I think you’ll love when it’s published. The angles are brilliant. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  He snaps his briefcase closed and gives me another grin. “Fantastic. I’m sure you have some wonderful stories to tell everyone back home over the holiday.”

  “Actually, I decided to stick around here.” I shrug and try to act like I actually considered going back to Indiana. As far as I know, my mom’s still in Florida and my dad is still in jail or court-assigned rehab. “Flights are so expensive this time of year, you know?”

  He frowns and then grabs a pen and a scrap of paper before scribbling something on it. “My wife is famous for her Thanksgiving spread. She’d love to have a couple more guests at the house. She’s trying to hide the fact that she’s down about our daughter not making it home this year. Come over around noon.”

  The way he says it, it sounds like an assignment instead of a polite suggestion that people make when they feel sorry for you. Which is why I find myself taking the paper from his hand where he’s scribbled the address of an apartment building on the Upper West Side.

  “Okay,” I say.

  “And you’re welcome to bring someone if you’d like.”

  He disappears into his office before I can back out. When I look down at the paper, I realize he hasn’t included his phone number, only the address. He’s going to tell his wife that I might come and bring a plus one and then she’ll cook more food and it would be awful if I didn’t show. I’ve heard that’s how normal families operate.

  I shake my head, trying to figure out how I went up to ask a question and suddenly had holiday plans that involved a family dinner, something I have zero experience with. When I finally head outside, Alex is waiting for me, his skateboard tucked under his arm.

  And he’s brought food.

  I smile and take the salad container from his hand. “You didn’t have to bring me this.”

  “It’s only fair,” he says. “Have to give all my girlfriends equal treatment. Besides, Elana and I got our lunch for free.”

  “Model perks,” I say with a sigh. “I do miss some of those extras, like free food and drinks just because.”

  A little while later, I’m sitting at one of the outdoor tables behind my dorm, eating the delicious salad, and Alex is riding his skateboard along the ledge and trying to make it flip in the air. It’s cold out, but in the sun it’s tolerable.

  “What would happen if you broke your arm before the GQ shoot?”

  “Wes would murder me in my sleep,” he says and then he continues to attempt the crazy trick, which makes me laugh.

  “My professor invited me to Thanksgiving dinner at his apartment.”

  Alex spins the skateboard to a stop. “Kinda creepy. Isn’t that breaking some university rule?”

  I laugh at the idea of Professor Larson being a perv. “He invited me to dinner with his family. His wife and a kid or two and grandkids, I think. He’s old and not even a little bit creepy.”

  The concern drops from Alex’s face and he goes back to balancing on the ledge. “That’s cool.”

  I shove the salad container aside and pull out my camera. He’s engrossed in trying to get the skateboard to rotate once in the air and then land upright on the ground and not the ledge. I think he’s eventually planning to land on top of the board. I take several shots of him deep in concentration.

  “Remind me again why you’re not going home for Thanksgiving?” I ask Alex, hoping maybe I can lead into
him being my plus one at Larson’s.

  “My mom would flip out if I missed Christmas and I don’t want to fly home for both.” He picks up the skateboard and sits down in the chair beside me, turning to face me. “Part of me wants to stay here because I don’t want to have to deal with questions about my girlfriend and another part of me wants to buy two plane tickets and drag you to Nebraska with me just so I can be the Evans kid with the hottest girlfriend.”

  That gets me to smile. “Your brothers don’t have hot girlfriends?”

  He laughs. “Let’s just say they roam around a lot. Although my mom did say that Jared is dating someone and they live together now. Or maybe he’s just staying with her? Mooching off her, probably. High school football gods tend to get very spoiled.”

  “You could bring Elana,” I suggest.

  He shakes his head. “It’s one thing to have my family reading tabloids about us and mentioning her on the phone every once in awhile, but to bring her into my house and completely lie to them, I can’t do that.”

  Every time he says something like that, it feels like the half images of him plastered on my wall get filled in a little bit more.

  “I get it.” I place my camera back in the bag and scoot my chair until he’s close enough for our legs to touch.

  He immediately starts moving his hands back and forth over my thighs, like he’s trying to keep my legs warm through my jeans. Which, of course, works perfectly because there’s no other way to be except very warm whenever Alex has his hands on me. For a second, I forget that we’re outside and debate crawling in his lap and putting more body parts within his reach.

  “What do you and Elana talk about?” Alex asks, shifting subjects on me. “Like grown up stuff or kid stuff, or normal girl stuff?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. Like things besides work and modeling?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Okay, what’s going on with Elana? It’s times like this when I think it could be helpful to tell Alex about me and Wes, but then I can’t because I’m pretty sure it would change everything. And why should I have to have my past following me around like an unwanted shadow? I’ve already had to live it. Isn’t that enough?

  “We talk about modeling and college and the subjects she’s studying now, how hot you look in Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Stuff like that.”

  He laughs and then closes the gap between us, kissing me in a way that makes me forget it’s November and that we’re outside in thirty-degree weather. “Steph is still around, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say with a sigh. I love my roommate, but there are moments like this one when a single room would be quite useful. “She’s not going home next week either. She has a relative in Jersey she’s spending Thanksgiving Day with.”

  His face brightens. “Oh, so she’ll be gone for what? A few hours?”

  “Probably, but I pretty much had no say in the matter of joining my professor on Thanksgiving. So I’ll be gone too.”

  He hides the disappointment well. Alex can be very patient when he wants to be. He doesn’t seem to mind that our time together almost always involves being outside or at a public place like the campus bookstore. Last week, he even sat in the library with me for three hours, helping to make flash cards for my chemistry class. Of course we did explore the consistently abandoned rare books section.

  “You should invite Elana,” Alex says suddenly. “To your professor’s place.”

  I smile. “I was hoping to talk you into going with me. He said to bring someone.”

  He looks excited by this suggestion. “You think we can do that?”

  “I don’t see why not. Professor Larson isn’t going to have any idea who you are or even care.”

  “I’m in,” Alex says. “But maybe you should take Elana instead. Something’s up with her. I think she’s homesick or just…lonely.”

  This surprises me because I didn’t think Alex had allowed himself to look at Elana long enough to see something like that in her. And now I’m worried all over again. “What makes you think that?”

  “She met Elliot today,” he says.

  “Okay?”

  “I left her alone with him.” He diverts his eyes from mine like he might be in trouble for this. “Elliot volunteered. She wanted to climb again and I wanted to work out. When I came back, they were playing video games and then on the way to drop her off, she said she really liked him because he seemed normal, but nothing like me.”

  “Not like you, huh?” I can’t help teasing him. “Maybe you’re right. Let’s bring her too. I don’t think Professor Larson will have a problem with it and besides, you know she’s not going to eat much. Thanksgiving is practically a carb fest.”

  Alex picks up my hands and holds them to his face. “You’re cold. We should go get coffee.”

  We both stand up and then he tosses my bag over his shoulder. Instead of walking toward warmer places, I decide to kiss him again, which ends up lasting for several minutes. “Elana is very lucky to have you for a fake boyfriend.”

  He takes my hand in his and starts walking. “I could probably be a better friend than I’ve been. I treat her like another bratty sister I’m forced to drive around. It’s not like she isn’t helping my career a ton.”

  I can’t make it to the coffee shop without throwing at least a dozen sideways glances in Alex’s direction. Sometimes, I have to look to make sure he’s real and other times I’m convinced he’s the most real person I’ve ever known. There’s no way to keep myself from comparing this to being with Wes, which was so heavy and dramatic. It’s like comparing Advil to a narcotic that does the job but drags you into this alternate reality and it takes so long to find your way back. I don’t feel lost or pulled under one bit right now.

  My fingers lace through his, and I inhale a slow deep breath, closing my eyes for a second and memorizing this feeling. No matter what happens between me and Alex, no matter how long we get to be us, I need to remember what this version of falling in love feels like. I really thought there was only one way to do this, and that way is absolutely frightening to imagine now.

  Chapter 22: Alex

  November 26, 12:05 p.m.

  An old man in dress pants and a Bill Cosby sweater greets us at the door. The place looks cozy, but not tiny like most New York City apartments. He’s definitely not broke from teaching all those classes at Columbia, that’s for sure.

  “These are my friends, Alex and Elana,” Eve says, pointing to each of us.

  “Tom Larson.” The man reaches out to shake our hands. “My wife will be thrilled to have you. Looks like she’s cooking for a hundred.” He disappears with all our coats and then, after returning, ushers us into the living room.

  There’s a fireplace and a grand piano and at least five floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Eve is already taking it in, probably debating scanning every title one at a time.

  “Thanks so much for having us,” I say on my and Elana’s behalf. Elana’s pressed herself into Eve’s side and gone completely quiet.

  A door swings open and the scent of onions and celery wafts toward us. A petite older woman with a mix of gray and brown hair enters the room. She smiles at the three of us. “Which one of you is Eve?”

  Eve lifts her hand a bit. “Me.”

  “So glad you came,” Mrs. Larson says. “Who are your friends? Are they students too?”

  “Alex and Elana.” Eve points to each of us again. “And they’re not students, they’re, well…”

  I decide to intervene again. “We met Eve at a photo shoot for Calvin Klein. She was assisting the photographer.”

  She looks us over and takes in my designer shirt and jeans and Elana’s Armani pantsuit. Then she turns to her husband. “Wasn’t Janessa working for Calvin Klein?”

  Professor Larson scratches the top of his head, where his hair is the thinnest. “Well, that wou
ld make perfect sense, then, since Eve is working with Janessa.”

  We all laugh and Mrs. Larson claps her hands together. “Okay then, mystery solved. Small world, isn’t it? And we’re so happy to have you. Hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to have to return to the kitchen.”

  The way Eve is biting her nails and shuffling her feet around, I get the impression she’s nervous. It could be because it’s a holiday and this isn’t her family. I don’t know much about Eve’s family other than when she told me her parents are assholes. She doesn’t bring them up, so I’ve left the subject alone.

  Maybe her nerves have to do with a weird academic thing since we are at her professor’s house. Maybe she thinks she’s being graded or something. I could totally see Eve worrying about shit like that.

  “Do you need any help?” I ask Mrs. Larson.

  Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’ll have to roll up those sleeves.”

  I grin and begin unfastening the button at my wrist. “I can do that.”

  Eve jumps to attention. “I’ll help too.”

  We leave Elana with Professor Larson and follow his wife into the kitchen. I’m already at the sink washing my hands when Mrs. Larson pulls out a cutting board and top-grade chef’s knife.

  “Have you ever used one of these?” she asks both of us, holding up the knife.

  Eve shakes her head.

  “Only when my mother wasn’t looking,” I say.

  “Alex will be chopping, then. And I won’t tell your mother.” After digging through the fridge, she tosses several clear plastic bags of veggies onto the cutting board and hands me a towel to dry my hands. “And Eve gets to peel.”

  Eve follows my lead and washes her hands. “What am I peeling?”

  “Potatoes?” I say, guessing. “Maybe sweet potatoes?”

  Mrs. Larson smiles. “You’ve done this before. Willingly or by force?”

  I laugh, thinking of my brothers shoving me into the kitchen with Mom while they watched football all day. When I was really young, my job in the kitchen was to give Katie pointless tasks and make her think she was actually helping while keeping her out of my mom’s way. “Well, it’s willingly today. That’s all that matters, right?”