Was this Share Your Shocking Revelations with Cate Padgett Week or something? “Dad didn’t like him?”
“No. He thought he was a real asshole.”
It sounded hilarious whenever her mother cussed. It felt good to laugh. “Dad called him an asshole?”
“Yes.” Her mother sighed. “Forget about him. Move on. He’s not the right guy for you. Besides, he wasn’t Catholic. And he drank a lot.”
“No, he didn’t.” The last thing Cate wanted to do was defend Paul. He was an asshole. However, if anyone had more than one drink at dinner, her mother assumed they were an alcoholic.
“You can do better,” her mother said.
You can do better was just a stock response people provided when they didn’t know what else to say. Cate knew this because she had said it to a dozen other friends while consoling them after a breakup.
“I can’t do better,” she said. “They’re all alike.”
“No, they’re not. There is one special jewel out there that God has already picked out for you. He’s probably dying to send him to you, but couldn’t because Paul was in the way. Just forget about Paul and focus on your photography and the upcoming school year. That guy is going to come your way. I know. I’ve been praying about it.”
How the hell was she supposed to focus on anything? “I’m so humiliated.”
“I know how you feel,” Connie said.
“You do?”
“Yes. I had my heart broken once, too.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But I got over it. I stayed busy and I dated other people.”
“Well, what happened?” Cate was curious. She could not imagine her mother ever having a love life, even with her father.
“I used to date this guy, Patrick McCourt. He was so cute. We dated for several months. I went on vacation with my family, and when I came back, he was dating my best friend.”
“You never told me that story.”
“Well, I got over it. I let myself be sad for a few days, and then I moved on. Have you been to church lately?”
“What does that have to do with Paul?”
“Well, you might feel better if you go to church.”
Or bored, Cate thought.
“Maybe that’s why all these things are happening to you. Because you don’t have a relationship with God.”
Why did she have to do this every time they were starting to bond? Cate hated to think that God was punishing her for missing a man-made ritual every week. What kind of God did that? She felt like asking her mother, but the last thing she needed was to get into a religious debate. She changed the subject. “Can you recommend a good seamstress?”
“There’s one on Poway Road that I used to go to years ago when we lived out there, next to the used book store.”
“Thanks,” Cate said before they hung up. She was going to need a genius seamstress who was borderline magician to fix the belt. Grease had nearly bitten it in half, and the fabric was punctured with kitty teeth marks in various places. She’d take the suit to Poway later.
She remained in bed for the rest of the morning, watching shows like Blind Date and Trading Spaces. At eleven, it occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten anything all day.
She threw on a pair of sweatpants, a hooded sweatshirt, and her running shoes. She decided to take the belt and outfit to Poway. After all, she did believe in miracles.
She found the seamstress in the exact spot that her mother had described. She brought the whole outfit because she needed the bust line taken in. The seamstress was a friendly Asian woman with a heavy accent.
“You try on,” she said to Cate.
Cate slipped into the outfit.
“Very nice,” the seamstress said when Cate stepped out of the dressing room. “You go to homecoming?” she asked.
“No. I’m twenty-six. I’m actually in a wedding.”
“Ahhh. My son married.”
She didn’t even ask Cate where she wanted alterations. She immediately began inserting pins around her chest, pulling the fabric tighter, and mumbling things that Cate couldn’t understand the whole time.
When she was finished, Cate pulled the damaged strap from her purse. “Can you repair this?” She waited for the seamstress to keel over and die. “My cat got a hold of it, and I have to wear it with this suit.”
She threw her head back and released a screeching burst of laughter.
“It’s that bad?” Cate asked. “You can’t repair it?”
“No! Cat got hold of it! That funny.” She had a wide smile.
“So you can fix it?”
She snatched the strap from Cate’s hand. “Yes. I repair. When you wanna pick up?”
Cate shrugged. “Next week sometime.”
“I see you Tuesday.”
Instead of going straight home, she drove to her favorite photo lab in Hillcrest. She needed to place an order for the pictures that Ethan had picked for his brochure.
“Hi, Sam,” she said as she entered the store.
“Hey. How you doin’, Cate? Here to pick up your pictures?”
“Pictures?” Then she remembered she had dropped off her film from Hawaii the previous week. God, she didn’t want to look at those. “Oh yeah. I . . . guess I’ll pick those up. I also need to place an order.”
“All rightey!” he said as he handed her three envelopes full of Maui.
She placed the order, then spent a small fortune paying for pictures she didn’t want. On the way back to her car, she quickly thumbed through the Hawaii photos. Laughter surprised her when she saw the photo she had snapped of Paul in Hana, the mosquito corpse dangling from his grimacing face. Maybe she should put that on the fridge when she got home. She didn’t look at the rest of the pictures and threw the envelopes in the backseat of the Volvo before heading home.
There was a message from Jill when Cate returned to her apartment. “Hi, girl. It’s me. I just wanted to see how you were doing and tell you that we’re meeting Nick and Ted at the West End. All right? Call me when you get in.”
Cate didn’t feel like going out. She wished it were March. She craved Girl Scout cookies. She wanted to eat Thin Mints and Samoas and watch eighties movies on cable TV all night. Then she remembered that she had a box of Thin Mints in the freezer. She was five minutes into Some Kind of Wonderful and halfway through a box of frozen cookies when the doorbell rang. She expected to see Jill and was surprised to find her mother standing in the hall, a loaf of banana bread in her hands.
“Hi. I just made some banana bread and thought it might cheer you up.”
“Thanks!” Cate said. She loved her mother’s banana bread. She made it special with little chocolate chips and cinnamon sprinkled over the top.
“Listen. Don’t be sad about Paul.” She threw her arm over Cate’s shoulders. “You’re going to find someone much better. I’ve been praying about it.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she said.
They walked to the kitchen with their arms around each other.
“Well, I can’t stay for long. Your father and I are meeting the Coursons for dinner. But I just wanted to stop by.” She pulled an envelope from her purse. “And here is a little something to cheer you up.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Her mother set the card on the counter. After she was gone, Cate opened the envelope. It was a card with a cat that bore a striking resemblance to Grease painted on the front. Inside was a check for four hundred dollars.
Just thought this might help pay for Leslie’s wedding.
Love,
Mom
Immediately she called her mother and left a message thanking her for the money. She was beyond grateful. The kind gesture had brought a small amount of relief to her overstressed nerves. Now she could get her car fixed.
After she hung up, Jill called. “Are you getting ready?”
“No. I don’t want to go out.”
“Get your ass off the couch and get in the shower. You need to kiss a cute guy t
onight.”
“I don’t need another man in my life. I hate them.”
“Cate, if you’re not down here in an hour, I’m going to have to drag you out. Oh and I made something for you. I’m coming over.”
“Fine.”
She did next to nothing to improve her appearance. She applied a coat of lipstick, failed to put concealer over the zit that had formed on her right cheek, and picked out a pair of comfortable jeans and a T-shirt. Who did she need to impress? Another jerk?
Ten minutes later, Jill let herself in. She carried a strong scent of perfume and wore a denim skirt, cute platforms, and a funky top with butterfly sleeves.
“Here. I burned you a CD. It’s a breakup mix.” She handed her a CD with “Breakup Mix” written in black across the front of it. “I thought this might help you get over Paul. Every song is meant to make you feel like one bad bitch. Screw Paul.”
“Thanks,” Cate said as she took the gift. “Am I underdressed? We’re just going to the West End, right?” The West End was not a place to dress up for. Although the bar packed in crowds of people, it was a borderline dive with its pool tables and jukebox.
Jill looked at her. “A little. Let’s find something else for you to wear.” She began to rummage through Cate’s closet.
Cate popped the CD into her stereo. When “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child blasted from the speakers, Cate couldn’t help but smile. The woman singing sounded stronger without her man. She wasn’t gonna give up. Cate wanted to be like her. The CD was already making her feel a little better. If Destiny’s Child could recover from a disastrous breakup, so could she.
Jill picked out an outfit. She handed Cate a pair of pointy heels that Cate rarely wore, a pair of whisker-washed jeans, and a tank top. Then she began to work on Cate’s hair and makeup.
“Now. I want you to try to something,” she said.
“Okay.” Cate waited for her to suggest a bold shade of lipstick.
“Every time you start to think of Paul, I want you to envision yourself with someone else. Whoever you want. I mean anyone. Tom Cruise. Brad Pitt . . .” She brushed blush across Cate’s cheeks. Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” played in the background. “It doesn’t even have to be a celebrity. Make up your own fantasy man if you want. Give him all the qualities you like. Looks, career, personality, family background. When I broke up with Danny, I imagined myself with a rock star that looked like Jared Leto and wanted five kids and a tattoo with my initials on his forearm. I imagined us going grocery shopping, picking out a puppy at the Humane Society, running into Danny—whatever. Open your eyes wide please.”
Cate stretched her eyes while Jill applied mascara.
“Focusing on someone else will help you think about the future instead of the shitty, depressing situation you’re in right now. It will help you to realize that there are other fish in the sea.”
She created a fantasy man in her head. He had the looks of Viggo Mortenson, the loyalty of Forrest Gump, the charm of Rhett Butler, the courage and heart of Mel Gibson in Braveheart. A real stud. No more idiots who travel with candles and highlight their hair.
They listened to more songs on the CD while Cate imagined her ideal guy. He would carve the turkey for her family on Thanksgiving and enjoy weekly getaways to Mexico, where they would devour lobsters and drink margaritas, drunk on love and cheap tequila. She didn’t care if he tattooed her initials on his forearm. She just wanted someone who would appreciate her.
Jill stood over her, ironing her hair, singing at the top of her lungs to Limp Bizkit’s “Rearranged.” She set the flatiron down. “Isn’t this a great song?”
“Yes.” Cate said. “Thanks for making me this CD.”
“Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor, “No Scrubs” by TLC, and Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” were just some of the songs that were meant to make Cate feel strong again. Jill and Cate were both singing Pat Benatar’s “Treat Me Right” when they decided to leave for the bar.
Nick turned out to be much cuter than Cate had remembered from the pictures. He was tall, soft-spoken, and flashed dimples on both cheeks whenever he smiled. “So Jill tells me you’re a teacher,” he said.
Cate nodded. “Yeah, I teach kindergarten. I heard you’re a tattoo artist.”
“Yeah, I’m an artist. I’ve been trying to break into graphic design for a while. I had a roommate that was into tattoos. He taught me everything, and eventually I picked it up. It was easy money.” He seemed too gentle to work in a tattoo parlor.
“Who do you practice on when you’re learning?” she asked. “I mean, who’s willing to be the guinea pig? What if you screw up?”
He laughed. “I practiced mostly on potatoes.” He lifted his shirt and exposed his forearm. “I did this one on myself when I was learning.”
It was a geisha, her gown filled with shades of red, blue, and green. “It’s good,” Cate said.
“It’s not bad. I’d like to improve it a little.” He took a swig of his drink, washing ice into his mouth. “You want another drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
She was feeling better, glad that she’d gotten out of the house, but she still felt a dull ache in her heart. Ted and Jill joined their conversation. “Do you guys want to play pool?” Ted asked.
“Sure!” Jill said. “Nick and Cate can be a team, and we’ll be a team.”
Cate sucked at pool. She just didn’t get it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t figure out the dynamics of the stupid stick. After one game she suggested that the boys play by themselves.
“So what do you think of Nick?” Jill whispered as she handed Cate a gin and tonic. She took one sip of the cocktail, then set it aside. Waking up heartbroken and hungover didn’t seem appealing.
“He seems nice. But it’s too early.”
“Early shmearly. Will you have fun tonight?”
“I am having fun.” She could feel her feet sweating in her heels. She knew there was a reason she never wore those shoes.
They fiddled around with the jukebox for a while, playing old Fleetwood Mac and Rolling Stones hits.
“Hey, do you guys feel like getting something to eat?” Ted asked.
Cate realized that all she’d eaten in the past twenty-four hours was a box of Thin Mints. “I could go for Mexican food,” she said.
They walked to the Mexican restaurant around the corner. It was a walk-up window with a couple of picnic tables outside. There were already people at each table, so they ordered their burritos to go.
Cate couldn’t wait to eat her food, and was tempted to take a cab home alone. But before she knew it she was in a cab headed for Nick and Ted’s in South Mission Beach.
Their apartment was typical South Mission. It was older and looked as if countless raging parties had been thrown in it throughout the years. Their furniture had a bachelor garage sale appeal to it and posters of local bands were pinned to the walls. Cate devoured her burrito within a matter of minutes.
Jill and Ted disappeared into Ted’s bedroom, and Cate wondered how on earth she was ever going to leave with Jill in Love Land. Nick offered her a beer, and she declined.
He sat down next to her. They looked at photo albums of people he had tattooed. Then, before she knew it, they were kissing. He was a decent kisser but tasted like Bud Light.
She pulled away. Their carpet needed steam cleaning. There was dog hair on the furniture, yet she hadn’t noticed a dog anywhere. And the couch had a stain that resembled blood on one of the cushions. She missed Paul. She wanted to feel her bare feet on his hardwood floors and smell the clean scent of his sheets. She had to go. Immediately, she sprang up from the couch. “Do you mind if I call a cab?” she asked.
“No. You tired?”
“Exhausted.”
“Sure you don’t want to stay and have a beer?” he asked as he handed her a cordless phone.
“Positive.”
Waiting for the cab to arrive seemed like an eternity. She was so
anxious to get home that she thought of everything she wanted to do when she returned to her apartment in precise order. First she would take off her shoes. She couldn’t wait to rid herself of the slick feeling on her feet. Then she would take off the outfit Jill had picked out, put on her favorite T-shirt, wash her face, brush her teeth, and watch the tube until she fell asleep.
When she got home, it took all her strength to stick to her plan. She forced herself to keep from picking up the phone and calling Paul.
23 • Shine
The final pictures for Ethan’s brochure turned out better than Cate had expected. She was excited to show him. They met at the China Inn, an old restaurant in Pacific Beach with dim lighting and booths that made Cate feel as if she were going to pop off of them every time she sat down. The last time Cate had been to the China Inn was two years earlier at the Pacific Beach Block Party. She’d gotten so soused off their fancy cocktail menu that she had actually left the restaurant holding a cocktail glass.
“These are great,” he said as he shuffled through the photos. He reached into his wallet and handed her a check for the negotiated four hundred fifty dollars.
“I still feel funny taking money from you.”
He shook his head. “Consider it your start as a professional photographer.”
“I have been thinking a lot about looking for more work.” She didn’t mention that she had written a rough draft for an ad to run in The Reader.
“You tired of teaching?”
“No. I like to teach. But I do think I have a passion for photography. I just never thought I could make money doing it.”
“So how has everything been going?” Ethan poured steaming green tea into her little porcelain teacup.
“Fine. School starts Monday. Oh. And Paul dumped me.”
“What?”
“Yes, Paul dumped me.”
“He dumped you?”
“Yes. It’s really a horror story.”
“What happened?”
“He drove me to the La Jolla cove for a bottle of wine to watch the sunset and told me he wasn’t in love with me and could never see us getting married. It was lovely—being dumped in public.” Her teacup felt warm against her palms as she raised it to her lips.
Always the Bridesmaid Page 21