The Optimist

by Sophie Kipner

  ‘So you got the shits,’ she said. ‘You’re human!’ She pet along one of the green lovebird’s beaks, thinking it was cute when it bit back. ‘That’s nice of Milk,’ she added.

  ‘I’m so upset that he knew I had diarrhea and saw me like that, at my lowest point. It was awful!’

  ‘I’m not going to lie: it is quite embarrassing. But just thank the stars that it was only in front of a friend. Thank God it wasn’t in front of a potential lover! Now that would have been really mortifying!’

  ‘Why? I mean, isn’t it a good sign to be able to be yourself in front of the love of your life, warts and all?’

  ‘Oh God no!’ she screamed. ‘They’d go running!’

  ‘But this is confusing. You always tell me to forget what everyone else thinks.’

  ‘Forget what everyone else thinks except the person you’re in love with.’

  My stomach started moving again and I could feel it coming. I took a swig of Pepto-Bismol and raced to the bathroom down the hall. I sat there, dress on the floor, thinking about how I guess having Milk see me in such a terrible light was a blessing in disguise because it ruled him out of being the love of my life.

  I was so mortified in front of him, how could I ever be with someone who had seen me like that? I heard these things happen when you’ve been with someone for a while, when you’ve been married for a long time, but it’s a real buzzkill if it ­happens before you even start dating. So, that’s how Milk was out.

  The Waiter

  High school feels like yesterday, only it was twelve years ago, and while I’ve had many, many adventures since and accumulated an array of captivating stories to tell at parties, I still haven’t found what I’m looking for (obviously). Things are moving forward, though. Just last week, for example, I had a delicious reconnection with a waiter named Simon.

  The day began simply, as many do, with Superman proposing to me on horseback – yes, he was actually on one knee on the back of a horse. It was amazing; his balance was just superb! – when I felt a wild vibration between my legs. At first I didn’t know if Superman was slipping me one but when I finally awoke I realized it was, unfortunately, just my phone ringing.

  ‘I need your help,’ Brenda said when I answered. My sister has this sixth sense of interrupting me at the worst moments. I was in my bedroom spread out on the floor in the corpse position, arms out wide like I was making snow angels. I’d been listening to Jeremy Irons read Lolita on audiotape. His voice so smooth and sexy, it must have drawn me into a deep coma, but Lord oh Lord, what a coma it was. Sometimes I think about how wonderful it would be to be married to a man who has a great voice like that. All you’d have to do when you’d stress out is close your eyes and his voice would guide you into a world wherein magically gnarled green trees and Sambuca were the staple features. I pulled out my journal and jotted a note down before I forgot: Find a voiceover actor.

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘What is it?’ But I didn’t need to ask; it was always about Mary.

  Thirty minutes later I arrived at their house. Brenda opened the door, placed her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes. One of her eyes drooped more than the other, which made me tilt my head to make up for the difference. People called me Taco Neck because when we were together I had my head cocked this way, the space between my neck and shoulder looking like that great Mexican corn shell. Maybe I am Mexican?

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, looking almost cross-eyed she was so tired. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

  ‘I bought you some eye cream,’ I said.

  ‘Do I look that bad?’ I handed it to her along with a grin that I stole off Mary and she just stared at me a beat too long with her giant vacant eyes, being quite the philistine she so often loves to be. I think it’s to get her out of accusation’s way because she’s just always like that. She doesn’t smile because you’re supposed to smile; she doesn’t give cues that she likes you to make you feel better about yourself. But you know, it’s not maleficent. It’s just that that’s Brenda.

  ‘Cedars is breaking me down.’ She was referring to the hospital she’s nursed at, Cedars Sinai, for the past eight years. ‘We’re short on staff this week, so I have to work overtime.’

  ‘Can’t you call in sick?’ I suggested. ‘You need some rest, girl.’

  ‘You can’t just call in sick when you’re tired, Tabby. People are dying.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  Thinking I was slow on the uptake, she continued, ‘I’d like to live in your world. It’s like nothing negative exists and there are no consequences.’

  ‘Oh there are definitely consequences!’ At last, we arrived at a breaking moment; we were bonding. I turned in for a hug.

  ‘Listen,’ she said, patting my shoulder as I felt her cheek tear away from me. Like I was diseased and the closer she got, the more likely it was that she’d get something. ‘Marlo’s had some sort of . . .’ she paused, took a breath, continued, ‘. . . some catastrophe with his new girlfriend.’ At this she rolled her eyes, her hands finding their way back to their natural groove on her hips. ‘Which means he can’t send me money for Mary this month.’

  ‘Bastard!’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s life,’ she said. Brenda’s birthday was September 19; astrologers would describe her as hard as a Virgo. She says she only has time for toast in the mornings but always pushes the minutes by adding a layer of smooth peanut butter on top. Once I asked her why smooth over crunchy and she said it’s because her life is rocky enough. The path of least resistance turns out to be choosing smooth nut butter. No wonder why I love chunky. Now if I could only find a man to say that.

  ‘I don’t really think that’s life. I mean, it’s not supposed to be so hard. Why do you think it’s so torturous for us – you know, Mom, you and me – to find a guy who wants to stick around? We’re such great catches; I don’t get it.’ As I said this, I noticed my eyes flitting around the room, around Brenda, her shape, then into the corners. Searching.

  ‘Great catches, huh?’ she laughed. ‘Anyway, why are you in such a rush? It doesn’t get any better.’

  ‘Oh, Brenda! You know that’s not true. I mean, something’s gotta kick in soon. All my friends are married and happy. I’m not desperate or anything, I’m just ready. Julia doesn’t think so but I am. I really am.’

  ‘You’re delusional. If you think about it, who of our friends is married with children who is totally, one hundred per cent confident she married the man of her dreams? I wouldn’t be able to be married to any of them.’

  ‘That’s because you’re not supposed to be with those men,’ I said, sagacity and wisdom emanating from my armpits like the patchouli oil once drifted from Rainbow Dan. ‘I just don’t think you can compare relationships.’

  ‘You know what Stephanie asked me the other day?’ she said. ‘She asked me, how do we know if we’re settling or if we just have high expectations?’

  ‘What did you say?’ I noticed a picture on the wall of her condo. It was of three girls laughing on the end of a jetty on some nameless lake, framed and sitting at the bottom of the beige-carpeted stairs. My sister would pick up random paintings from garage sales every now and then, probably hoping it would activate some lost memory of a functional childhood. After Dad left, we became a unit. But the more my mom crashed and burned with love, and the more my sister became realistic, the more separated we became. Finding the love we all wanted would get us back together, stitch back the pieces that had been torn away. But instead of how the picture looked like the three of us, my mom, Brenda and I, all I could think about was how I hated carpet, how it make me so itchy.

  ‘I said you should have figured that out before you had three kids!’ My sister said I was crazy all the time but still talks to me in a way that makes me know she wants my advice. I think it’s because she needs the constant infusion of optimism.

  ‘Good point.’ I knew why I dated everyone I’ve dated and never have felt that there was the ri
ght one who got away or that I had settled at any point. They’ve all been right, even if they were wrong.

  ‘But what about us?’ I asked her, because she was still my big sister. She was still supposed to know the answers to everything.

  Brenda’s breath rolled out of her, head first through the diaphragm. ‘Some of us are just unlucky in love. It’s something you have to get used to.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure about that,’ I said. ‘There has to be a reason why we’re having a hard time. Everything works out in the end though, right?’

  ‘Despite your lack of actual relationship experience, and that most of the time you have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m hoping you’re right.’

  ‘Why do you think you and Marlo didn’t work out?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘People change. And sometimes they forget to tell you. Then you wake up with someone you don’t know.’

  ‘That’s so sad.’

  ‘Anyway, the point is that I can’t pay you as much as I ­usually do.’

  ‘So how long is this going to last? What am I supposed to do?’ I asked, as if she’d know.

  ‘Get another job and just babysit your niece because you love her? I don’t know. That’s for you to figure out. I have a five-year-old to raise. Don’t you think it’s time you lived on your own? Maybe it’s a good opportunity for you to get serious, get a real job, move out.’

  ‘Move out?’ I exclaimed. ‘I’m getting my sea legs. It’s just temporary. I’m thinking of doing more work for teens with confidence issues. I’m loving giving them that power back. It’s really fulfilling.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re giving them really great advice,’ she said, sarcastically. ‘Anyway, thank you for helping me with Mary while I work these extra hours.’

  ‘I don’t know why you thank me,’ I said. ‘It’s my job. Well, it’s one of my jobs.’

  ‘First of all, it’s your only job because you’ve been fired from every other one and this is the only way you can make money without being accused of seducing everyone who walks in the door.’

  One minute she’s telling me to get a job, and the next she’s telling me why I’ll never be able to get one. I’ve been nannying for my sister for the past few years since I do tend to fall in love with a lot of the people I work with. The problem with that, albeit delightfully sexy, is that eventually it gets positively tricky in the workplace. I’ve been back at my mom’s house for a while now, and I know I’m not supposed to admit it but it’s so fun! Just like the old days – same house, same room, same street – and with Brenda just twenty minutes away, sometimes it feels like we never grew up. One might assume, since I live at home, that I have an exorbitant amount of extra spending money due to paying no rent. This is not true as I do contribute to the house. I buy most of the groceries. I even buy toilet paper now because I’m growing up and learning about closure. But with the economic crash, moving out has become an unforeseeable action, at least for the time being.

  I lived by myself for a year in college with a roommate named Rufus. He was from South Central and everything I did annoyed him so we eventually grew apart. He said it was because I never remembered to buy toilet paper, but I think it was because I’d shower late at night and it would always wake him up. Admittedly, I hated buying toilet paper because it would remind me of Heralda and make me sad. I lived in New York for a year as well, when I was about twenty-five – just after I graduated college – and I sold gemstones in the diamond district. I knew absolutely nothing about ­jewelry but my dad’s sister connected me with a guy who had a friend who needed someone to help him run his shop. He was sixty and fabulously gay, chihuahua in hand, scarves to match, always with a good hair day. More of a gem than the most sparkling of stones he could find. The juxtaposition between him, the horny Russian perverts and the Hasidic Jewish families who sold diamonds in the rest of the building was like a sitcom. Anyway, back to Brenda.

  ‘They were romantic affairs,’ I proclaimed. ‘Flings of ­passion.’

  ‘Psychotic persuasions and violations of personal space, I think were their words.’

  ‘At least I’m not boring,’ I said. ‘You’ll get it one day. Anyway, it’s not like you have it figured out.’

  I absolutely love Mary; she’s the only one who really gets me. And with the job: I knew I’d find something; things always work out. Not having job security was scary, though, so I started perusing Facebook because that’s what I do when I’m fake depressed. But really it was because I’ll be turning thirty-one next week and have just realized that I’ve never really, truly, totally, both ways had a boyfriend. I say ‘both ways’, because, in all fairness, I’m not sure if any of them knew we were having an affair. In retrospect, now that I have more dating wisdom, I would bet they didn’t. I’m an alpha lion. It’s hard for me to step back and let them take the lead even though I know a man needs to be a man. I just want to make sure it works out so desperately I get a little excited, that’s all.

  ‘Mary!’ Brenda yelled out, face tilting upstairs. ‘Your favorite aunt is here!’

  I could hear the pitter patter of tiny legs as she vacuumed herself towards the top of the railing from her playroom, yelling, ‘But she’s my only aunt!’ as she tumbled downstairs. I braced myself at the end of the staircase to take her impending fall and the two of us rolled backwards into a heap. When I opened my eyes, she was laughing. ‘Ready to play?’

  ‘Hey, Tabby?’ Brenda said just as she was exiting. ‘Forgot to mention . . . Mom and I have to go to this fundraiser, charity event thing in a few weeks, I think it’s the night of the ­twenty-eighth, and—’

  ‘—sure, I’ll look after Mary,’ I said before she could finish.

  ‘No, I mean, I want you to come with me. I need you. ­Otherwise I’ll be stuck talking to all the girls who I went to high school with who are now happily married. I won’t survive.’

  My astonishment quivered into a smile as I pieced this all together; long has it been since I’ve been asked to go anywhere. Let alone with my sister.

  ‘Oh!’ I screamed, unable to settle the bubbles inside me. ‘I’d love to!’

  ‘Who do you think we should ask to look after Mary?’ she added. ‘I was thinking Milk?’

  Milk moved back home about a year ago. I didn’t see him for years, partly because we were both off at college and living our lives, being free birds, flying, growing. I can’t remember much except that he went off traveling for a while. He called it ‘backpacking’ or something. Rode camels, lived in tents, you know, how they do. I saw him a handful of times when he’d come to visit, but now that he’s back living with his dad again it feels like he never left. I forget that he’s my age and we’re not still kids. He’s a great guy, I just worry sometimes that he’s not getting out there and dating enough. He’s never going to find the girl of his dreams if he just sits in that house all day.

  ‘Do you think he’d want to? I don’t think he’s looked after kids before.’

  ‘Oh come on! He’s about a thousand times more responsible than you and Mary loves him.’

  ‘How’s that sound, Mary?’ I asked her. She was still on top of me, counting her fingers.

  ‘I love Milk!’ she screamed. ‘Can I ask Randall to come too?’

  ‘Who’s Randall?’ Brenda and I asked.

  ‘He’s my best friend in the whole, whole, whole world.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Then of course you can. I’ll have to meet him first, though, you know, just to suss him out. I don’t want you hanging out with predators.’

  She jumped off of me and started whizzing around the house screaming ‘Yay!’ in dizzying repetition until I had to ­literally hunt her down, turn her upside down, and shake her side to side until she couldn’t laugh or speak anymore. She screamed at first but it was a game we usually played; I pretended to shake the coins out of her pant pockets despite her insistence she had no money.

  ‘It’s only Sunday, silly beans,’ I said. ‘We can te
ll Randall to ask his parents when I pick you up from school this week.’ She nodded but as I let her down, she fell like a towel into a mound of discombobulated parts; legs and arms sticking out randomly until she re-oriented herself.

  ‘I have to run,’ Brenda said, moving around the room like a crazed hen. It’s one of the only traits I see that proves she really is from my mother.

  I hugged her with both arms, the way you want to be hugged. I hate when people give me a half hug, or worse: a pat! Her hair smelled like a Pantene Pro-V commercial, clean and hopeful, the ends grazing my shoulders. Tickling me. I started to laugh and it was weird, my laughing. So I stopped.

  ‘And please, no stories that will give Mary nightmares or get her beaten up at school if she repeats them tomorrow.’ She lifted her forehead, staring intently at me until either I agreed or her face peeled back permanently. I loved it when she did this; it was like a contest, this fascinating ability to contort her face, and I’d watch in amazement for as long as I could, pretending like I didn’t know what she was talking about.

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. You put your daughter in my hands because you know I’ll shape her into a beautiful young woman, like us.’

  At this she flung her body down in exasperation towards the floor. ‘I’m a terrible mother,’ she said to herself, head shaking side to side as her hands cupped around her eyes in a forward bend. ‘I’m a terrible mother. A terrible mother.’

  ‘Oh stop,’ I said, smiling. ‘You’re a great mom and a very caring sister working incredibly hard to take care of us all. And I promise I won’t teach her anything she’ll get arrested for.’

  ‘Okay,’ she growled, but it wasn’t scary. It was like a cute little baby bear. ‘I’m out. Have fun. I’ll be home from work late. Double shifts have single-handedly ruined my life.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be double-handedly?’

  ‘For a moron, you’re pretty clever sometimes,’ she added just before she slammed the door shut behind her.