Big Girl: A Novel

by Danielle Steel

  “That would be fun,” she said casually in case he hadn’t really meant it.

  “Do you like theater?” he asked as they both stood up. He was considerably taller than she was, well over six feet.

  “Very much. I can’t really afford it,” she said honestly, “but I go once in a while, just to treat myself.”

  “There’s an off-off-Broadway play I’ve been meaning to see. It’s a little dark, but I hear it’s great. I’ve met the playwright. Maybe we could go this weekend, if you’re free.” She didn’t want to tell him that she was free for the rest of her life, particularly for him. She was flattered by his interest.

  “That sounds great,” she said, smiling warmly, sure that he wouldn’t follow up on the invitation. She was used to men being friendly to her, and never calling her after that. And she had very few opportunities to meet single men. She lived and worked among women, kids, and gay and married men. An eligible bachelor was a rarity in her world. Her shrink had been encouraging her to get out and meet more people, not just men. Her world was limited to and defined by school.

  “I’ll send you an e-mail,” he promised as they both left the teachers’ lounge and went back to work. They were teaching classes at the same time. He waved and disappeared in the opposite direction, to where the science labs were, and she drifted past Helen’s classroom on the way to her own. She was talking to Carla Bernini, and both women looked up and smiled as she walked by. She stopped in the doorway for a minute.

  “Hi, you guys.” She loved the camaraderie they all shared. Both women were older than she was, but working at a school was frequently like being part of a family, with a lot of older siblings who were her fellow teachers, and younger ones who were the students. They were all in this together.

  “Rumor has it that you had lunch with the hunk in the lounge,” Carla said with a broad grin, and Victoria smiled, looking sheepish.

  “Are you kidding? We sat at the same table. Leave the poor guy alone. Half the school is after him. He was just being polite. Do you two have radar, or are you bugging the teachers’ lounge?” All three women laughed. They knew only too well that all schools were gossip mills, where teachers talked about each other as well as the students, and what was happening in their lives, and everyone knew everything that went on.

  “He’s cute,” Carla volunteered, and Helen agreed, as Victoria rolled her eyes.

  “Believe me, he’s not after me. I’m sure he has better fish to fry.” And it was common knowledge that the hot new French teacher was after him. What chance would she have?

  “He’d be lucky to have you,” Carla said warmly. She had become very fond of their youngest colleague, and she had a lot of respect for Victoria as a teacher, even though she still had a lot to learn. But she had done very well in her first year.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Victoria said again, and walked on to her classroom. It was amazing to her how fast news traveled in a high school. Faster than the speed of sound. She wondered if he would actually send her an e-mail. She doubted it, but he’d been nice to talk to over lunch. She didn’t expect anything to come of it, and said as much to her shrink the next day.

  “Why not?” her doctor asked her. “Why do you think he won’t follow through on what he said?”

  “Because it was no big deal, just casual conversation over lunch. He probably didn’t mean it.”

  “What if he did? What would that say to you?”

  “I guess that he likes me, or maybe he’s just lonely.”

  “So you think you’re only worthy as a stopgap for lonely guys? What if he actually likes you?”

  “I think he was just being polite,” Victoria said firmly. She’d been disappointed before by men who she thought were interested in her and never called her.

  “What makes you think that?” her psychiatrist said with quiet interest. “Do you think you deserve a nice man to go out with?” There was a long silence while Victoria pondered the question.

  “I don’t know. I’m overweight. I’m not as pretty as my sister. I hate my nose. And my mother says men don’t like smart women.” The psychiatrist smiled at her answer, and Victoria laughed nervously at her own response.

  “Well, we can agree that you’re smart. That’s a good beginning. And I don’t agree with your mother. Smart men like smart women. The superficial ones may not, and may be threatened by them. But you wouldn’t want one of those men. Your nose looks fine to me. And weight is not a character flaw, it’s something you can change. A man who really likes you and cares about you won’t care about your weight one way or another. You’re a very attractive woman, Victoria, and any man would be lucky to have you.” It was nice to hear, but Victoria didn’t entirely believe her. The evidence in the other side of the scale had been too heavy for too long—the insults of her father, the constant dismissal of her parents, her own sense of failure. “Let’s see if he calls you. But even if he doesn’t, all that means is that he has other interests. It doesn’t mean that no man will ever want you.” She was twenty-three years old, and so far no male she’d ever known had fallen seriously in love with her. She had been passed over and ignored for years, except by friends. She felt like a shapeless, sexless, totally undesirable object. And it was going to take hard work and dedication to turn that around. It was why she was here. To change the image her parents had given her of herself. And she said she was willing to do whatever it took, even if the process was painful for her. Living with her own sense of defeat was worse. It had been her parents’ legacy to her, to make her feel unlovable, because they didn’t love her. It had started the day she was born. She had twenty-three years of their negative messages about her to cancel out now, one by one. And finally she was ready to face it.

  Victoria felt a little discouraged after the session. It was hard digging through her past at times, pulling all those ugly memories out into the open and looking long and hard at them. She was still feeling down about it when she got home. She hated remembering those things, and all the times her father had hurt her feelings and her mother had turned a deaf ear and blind eye and never come to her defense. Her own mother. The only one who ever had was Gracie.

  And what did that say about her? That her own mother didn’t love her? Nor her father. And the only one who could was a child, who didn’t know any better. It told her that no intelligent adult could love her, not even her parents. And she had to learn to remind herself now that it was a flaw in their psychological makeup, not her own.

  She turned on her computer when she got home and checked her e-mail. She had one from Gracie, telling her what was happening at school, and about a drama with a new boy she had a crush on. At sixteen she had more boys circling her at one time than Victoria had had in a lifetime, even if they were just kids. The voice on her computer said she had mail as she finished reading Gracie’s message with a grin. And then she switched over to see who it was. She didn’t recognize the e-mail address at first, and as she read it again, it clicked for her immediately: Jack Bailey. The new chemistry teacher at lunch in the student lounge. She opened his e-mail quickly, trying not to feel anxious. It could have been something about school or one of the students they shared, and she sat staring at the e-mail after she read it.

  Hi. Nice seeing you at lunch yesterday, and having time to chat. I managed to get two tickets to the play I mentioned to you. Any chance you’d like to join me on Saturday? Dinner before or after? Potluck at nearby diner, provided by starving chem teacher. Let me know if you’re free and it’s of interest. See you around school.

  Jack.

  Victoria sat staring at it endlessly, wondering what it meant. Friendship? A date? Someone who had no friends in New York and was just lonely? Did he like her? She felt like Gracie with her high school romances as she tried to read between the lines. It made her nervous, and maybe it was just what it appeared to be. Dinner and a play on a Saturday night, offered by a nice guy. They could figure out the rest later, if they wanted to go out aga
in. She couldn’t wait to tell Harlan about it when he got home.

  “That’s what they call dating, Victoria. A guy asks you out. He offers to feed you, possibly entertainment, in this case a play. And if you both have fun, you do it again. What did you answer?” He asked with interest, but he was happy for her. She looked excited.

  “Nothing. I wasn’t sure what to say. How do you know it’s a date?”

  “Time of day. Offer of food. Entertainment provided. Saturday night. Your sexes, your ages, career in common. You’re both single. I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet that this is a date.” He was laughing at her, and she looked nervous.

  “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

  “Maybe. But plenty of romances start as friendships. Since you both work at a fancy school, I don’t think he’s an ax murderer. He doesn’t appear to have any serious addictions, or substance abuse issues. He probably hasn’t been recently arrested. I think you’d probably be safe for dinner and a play. If not, you can always carry Mace.” She grinned at the suggestion.

  “Besides, this isn’t just his show, you know. You might decide you don’t like him.” He wanted her to know that she had decision-making power here too.

  “Why would I do that? He’s smart, he’s nice looking. He went to MIT. He’s got a lot more going for him than I do. He could go out with anyone he wanted.”

  “Yes, and so could you. And besides, he asked you. Let’s keep the playing field level here. You have just as much free choice here as he does. No one died and made him king.” It was good advice, and she knew it, and it was a reality check for her. She felt so inadequate and unlovable most of the time, she knew now, that she forgot that she had a voice in this too. The decision was not only just his. “And don’t forget the lamb chop factor,” Harlan said with a serious air, as he made them both a cup of tea.

  “What’s that?” Victoria asked with a puzzled expression.

  “You meet a guy who is so gorgeous it knocks you flat on your ass, and you can hardly breathe when you see him. He’s brilliant, charming, and funny, as well as the best-looking guy you’ve ever seen. Maybe he even drives a Ferrari. Then you see him eat a lamb chop, like he was born in a stable and eats like a pig in a trough, and you never want to see him again.” Victoria burst out laughing at what he said.

  “Can’t you teach him table manners?” she asked innocently.

  Harlan shook his head with a determined look. “Never. It’s too embarrassing. And so is introducing a guy like that to your friends, while he sits at the table, slobbering over his lamb chop, slurping his soup, and licking his fingers. Forget the guys who eat like Tom Jones. You can check him out at the diner,” he said seriously, while Victoria grinned.

  “Okay. I’ll order lamb chops and offer him one.”

  “Trust me. It’s the ultimate test. You can live with almost anything else.” They were both laughing by then, and he was teasing her, but there was a small degree of truth to what he said. It was hard to predict in the beginning what would totally melt your heart about someone, or turn you off forever. Guys who tipped badly or left no tip at all, were rude to waiters, or crude, had always been a turn-off for her. She had never considered lamb chops before. “So what are you going to do now?” Harlan asked her. “I suggest you accept his invitation. I can’t remember the last time you had a date, and you probably can’t either.”

  “Yes, I can,” she said defensively. “I went on a date in L.A. this summer. He was someone I was in eighth grade with, and I ran into him at our swim club.”

  “So? You didn’t mention him before.”

  “He was incredibly boring. He sells real estate for his mother, and he spent the whole dinner talking about his low back pain, his migraines, and his hereditary bunions. It was a pretty boring evening.”

  “Jesus, you wonder how a guy like that ever gets laid. He must not get a lot of second dates.” They were both laughing at her description. “I hope you didn’t sleep with him.”

  “No,” she said primly, “he had a headache. And so did I by dessert. I ate dinner and left. He called a couple of times after that, and I lied and told him I’d gone back to New York. Fortunately, I didn’t run into him again.”

  “In light of that experience, I think you ought to go out with the chemistry teacher. If he’s not signing up for bunion surgery and doesn’t get a migraine at dinner, you’ll be way ahead of the game.”

  “I think you’re right,” she said, and went to answer Jack Bailey’s e-mail. She told him she accepted with pleasure and it sounded like fun. She offered to pay her share, since they were both poverty-stricken teachers. He e-mailed that it wasn’t necessary, as long as she didn’t mind dinner at the diner, and told her he’d pick her up on Saturday. It was done. All she had to do now, she realized as she went to tell Harlan, was figure out what to wear.

  “A very, very, very short skirt,” he answered without hesitation. “With legs like yours, you should only wear miniskirts. I wish I had those legs,” he teased her, but what he said was true. She had long, beautiful, graceful legs that drew all attention away from her thicker middle. And he thought she had a pretty face, in a wholesome, blond, all-American way. She was a very decent-looking woman, and an extremely nice one, with a bright, lively, sharp mind and a good sense of humor. What more could a man want? He hoped the date worked out for her. Particularly since he had been happy for the last eight months with John Kelly, thanks to her. They were a perfect combination, and it had become a serious affair. They were starting to talk about moving in together. And they loved taking Victoria out to dinner with them. Harlan had become her best friend in New York, and her only real confidant other than her sister. And he gave excellent advice.

  When Jack arrived promptly at seven o’clock on Saturday night, the apartment was empty. All the others were out for the evening, and he walked around the apartment, admiring how pleasant it was, and how spacious.

  “Wow, I live in a shoebox compared to you,” he said enviously.

  “It’s rent-controlled. I was lucky, and I live here with three other people. I found it as soon as I moved to New York.”

  “You really lucked out.”

  She offered him a glass of wine, and a few minutes later they left for dinner. They took the subway to the diner in the Village, and he said the play was starting at nine o’clock, so they had just enough time for dinner.

  She had taken Harlan’s advice, and he had checked her over before he went out to meet John. She was wearing a short black skirt, a white T-shirt, and a denim jacket, with high-heeled sandals that showed off her legs. And she looked very pretty. She wore a little makeup and her long blond hair down. Harlan had said it was the perfect outfit for a first date. Sexy, young, simple, and it didn’t look like she was trying too hard. He had said solemnly definitely no cleavage on a first date, although she had plenty of it. He told her to save it for later, and she hadn’t been planning to show it off anyway. She was happy in the loose T-shirt. And she and Jack chatted constantly on the way downtown. He was fun to be with and had a good sense of humor. He made her laugh at the description of the schools he’d worked in. And it was obvious that he genuinely liked kids. It was equally so that he liked her.

  She contemplated the menu with a frown when they got to the diner. She always had a weakness for meat loaf and mashed potatoes, which reminded her of her grandmother’s cooking, which had been the best thing about her, but she didn’t want to overdo it and eat too much. The fried chicken sounded good too. She finally decided on sliced turkey breast and ordered string beans. And the food was good. She almost burst out laughing when Jack ordered lamb chops and a baked potato. He ate them with a knife and fork. No sign of Tom Jones. She could tell Harlan that he had passed the test. And she hoped that she had too. They shared a piece of homemade apple pie à la mode for dessert. When they finished their meal, he said, “I like a woman who has a healthy appetite,” and told her that the last girl he had gone out with was anorexic, and it had driven him c
razy. She never ate, and was apparently severely neurotic in other ways. He didn’t see anything wrong with Victoria enjoying her food.

  They both liked the play, and talked about it all the way back to her place on the subway. It was depressing, but beautifully acted and well written. She’d had a really great evening with him, and she thanked him as they stood outside her building in the warm night air. She didn’t invite him to come upstairs at the end of the evening, it was too soon. But it definitely felt like a date to her. Jack looked happy too and said he’d like to go out with her again. She thanked him, and he hugged her, and there was a spring in her step and a smile on her face when she walked into the empty apartment. For a minute she was sorry she hadn’t invited him upstairs for a drink, but decided it was better this way. And much to her surprise, he called her the next day.

  He said there was an art show downtown that he was going to and wanted to know if she’d like to join him. She did, they met downtown, and had dinner together again. By the time she got back to school on Monday morning, they had had two dates, and she couldn’t wait to tell her shrink. It felt like a real victory to her, a huge compliment, and they seemed to be compatible in many ways. They ran into each other in the teachers’ lounge at lunchtime, and she appreciated that he was discreet and didn’t refer to seeing her on the weekend. She didn’t want the whole school knowing that they’d gone out with each other outside school, especially for a proper “date.” He was casual and friendly, but nothing more, and then he called her that night to invite her out on Friday for dinner and a movie. She was really excited when she told her roommates about it over dinner in the kitchen.