Your Perfect Life: A Novel

by Liz Fenton

  But now, standing here as Rachel, things look a lot different. We waited stiffly for over a half hour in a tiny room in uncomfortable black modern chairs without as much as a tattered copy of InTouch to glance at. Not that Audrey noticed or cared; she was so excited about the winter formal tonight that nothing could bring her down. Finally, a sour-faced assistant escorted us over to Jose, who looked us up and down and shook his head slightly before pulling Audrey’s hair out of a ponytail while rapidly speaking Spanish to his assistant. “Sit,” he ordered before disappearing for another ten minutes, finally returning as if he were doing us a favor by coming back at all. I sat in disbelief at the way he would treat my best friend when I wasn’t around and mentally planned the scathing email I’d write to him once I was back in my own body.

  Finally, I hear Casey before I see her. She’s led in like royalty, Jose practically shedding tears of joy upon her arrival. Champagne suddenly appears on a gleaming silver tray and Jose painstakingly explains exactly what he has in mind for Audrey’s hair, even though when I’d asked him the same question earlier he’d waved me off and instructed me to sit down and let him “make the magic.”

  “Hi, all,” Rachel says, giving Audrey a tight hug before sitting down next to me. She adjusts her skirt, one of my favorites, a pencil skirt with soft gray pinstripes, and fidgets in her seat as she tries to get comfortable.

  “What?” she asks, catching me watching her. Her hand flies up before I can answer. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, I’m sorry.” She inches closer to me. “I’ve gained five pounds.”

  “Where?” I scrutinize my thin frame, not able to detect exactly where the extra weight is. Maybe in my face? Maybe it does look a little fuller?

  “This skirt is a little tight,” she says and frowns, running her hand over her stomach.

  “I think you look great. I needed some meat on my bones; I know that I was too skinny.” I thought about this that morning as I put on Rachel’s jeans and studied her figure in the mirror. She has hips. She has soft curves in all the right places. She’s feminine. The way I wish I was allowed to look. But I can’t have both a career and a healthy body.

  “Sorry I was late,” Rachel says, changing the subject.

  I nod toward the firm grip she has on her BlackBerry.

  “Work?” I ask.

  “Something like that,” she says vaguely, as if I wouldn’t understand. Is that how I used to talk to her? Like my job at GossipTV was so complicated that she wouldn’t understand even the slightest detail? I think back to how I would grasp my cell phone tightly at all times, one time choosing to drop an entire plate of food when I slipped at a party rather than unclasp my grip on what I thought was my lifeline to the rest of the world. The old me would probably die if she knew that my phone lay buried in the bottom of my purse on silent most days now, the people needing my attention most always right in front of me.

  Rachel had been vague with me about everything in her life (my life!) since returning from Santa Barbara. I had tried several times to get more information out of her about that trip, both dreading and dying to know what really happened. When I asked where they had dinner, I fought back tears as she told me they went to our spot. Rachel seemed to sense that information would hurt and quickly changed the subject to John’s upcoming surprise party. I didn’t press and assured her that we were all set, the RSVPs were trickling in and aside from a few minor details I was pretty much done planning. I knew she was trying to spare my feelings by not gushing about her time with Charlie, but it still felt like she was hiding something. I prayed she hadn’t figured out what had really happened between us, although I can’t imagine how it wouldn’t have come up at dinner. I didn’t want her pity. Or her disapproval for not coming to her in the first place, although I think she’d be able to understand why. And why, now, I realized how incredibly wrong I had been.

  “You’re hanging out with us the rest of the day, right?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says and glances over at Audrey. “You’d think I’d miss this?” she says loudly so Audrey can hear, and in return gets a beaming smile from her.

  “Of course not,” I say sarcastically and Rachel gives me a sharp look that I hold until she’s forced to look away.

  “Sophie’s play was awesome,” she finally says, breaking the silence a few minutes later.

  “Yes,” I agree. “John couldn’t stop talking about it for days!”

  Rachel’s face clouds over at the mention of John, and I know it bothered her that his hand seemed to be permanently glued to my knee that night. I had felt so guilty that later, after John was asleep, I had snuck downstairs and called Rachel to make sure she was okay. She swore she was, but her declarations felt hollow. I’m just playing a role, I insisted. You of all people should understand, I added, thinking of her frolicking in Santa Barbara with Charlie.

  “Voilà!” Jose calls out as he spins the chair around to reveal Audrey’s hair swept into a beautiful cluster on top of her head, a few expert pieces hanging over her cheekbones, highlighting the fake eyelashes and smoky eyes the makeup artist had already applied.

  “Gorgeous!” I cry, both excited and nervous that Audrey looks ready for the red carpet, not a high school dance. “Do you love it?” I check in with her and she nods, smiling broadly.

  Rachel walks over and hugs her tightly as Jose makes a warning noise to watch the hair. “You look incredible,” she says as she wipes a tear from her eye. In that moment, I know I’ve been too hard on her; of course these kids are still the most important people in her life. Hell, I’ve only been here a few weeks and they’re the most important people in mine. I grab her arm to let her know that I understand. She smiles before whipping her buzzing BlackBerry from behind her back and I realize she never let go of it.

  • • •

  “What can I say? She wants the big reveal!” I say to Sophie through the cracked door, unwilling to let her into Rachel’s bedroom, which has turned into an impromptu dressing room since we returned home from the salon. “You’ll understand one day when it’s your turn.”

  “Whatever,” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest tightly, as if she’s literally closing herself off to us. “You guys are acting like she’s heading to the Golden Globes.”

  “This is an important night for her.” I reach over and uncross her arms and she smiles shyly. “Let her have her moment,” I plead. “Everyone deserves one. Right?”

  “Okay,” she concedes and I’m relieved. “But how much longer?”

  “Ten minutes, I promise!” I say as the doorbell rings, announcing Chris McNies’ arrival. Sophie bounds down the stairs to answer the door.

  “You handled that well,” Rachel says as I close the door.

  “Thanks,” I respond lightly. “Audrey, Chris is here.”

  She squeals and I’m reminded that she’s just a sixteen-year-old girl, not the twenty-something sophisticated woman she appears to be in her dress and makeup. John hasn’t seen her yet, although he’d begrudgingly approved the dress last week. “Doesn’t the back seem a bit low?” he’d said as he walked around her, inspecting every angle.

  “You just said no cleavage and no minis,” I argued. “We didn’t discuss the back.”

  “I didn’t think we had to,” he said with a laugh, and I knew he was going to be okay with it. He reached over and fingered the price tag. “Casey paid for this?” he asked.

  “Yes, and the shoes and bag too.” I spoke quickly, before he saw the price on the sparkling sling-back Jimmy Choos sitting on the couch.

  “She’s been pretty damn generous lately.” He furrowed his brow. “Does she think we’re some charity case or something?”

  “No!” I exclaimed. “Not at all. It’s just that, well, you know, she doesn’t have kids of her own. And let’s face it, she probably never will. So being a part of their lives is important to her.” I said the last part quietly, saddened by the thought of never having a family of my own.

  “So buying
Audrey a dress that costs as much as our last family vacation makes her feel better?”

  “It does,” I said and smiled, thinking about how much I’d loved being a part of Audrey’s special day. How I don’t think I could go a day without seeing Charlotte’s smiling face. How I’ve come to love Sophie’s quick wit, even when she’s using it against me.

  “And I love it so much, Dad,” Audrey interjected. “Please, can I wear it? I feel like a princess.”

  John pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Just make sure your date treats you like one. That’s all I ask.”

  I squirmed in my seat a bit at his comment and tried not to think about the conversation I’d accidentally overheard a few days ago. I had just put Charlotte to bed when I was walking past Audrey’s room. I glanced in through the crack of the door and smiled to myself at the sight of her, lying on the bed, chatting with her girlfriend as she twirled her hair around her finger. Oh, to be sixteen again! I’d thought as I stood there and watched.

  “I don’t know how far we’ll go,” she said quietly, but I could hear the smile in her voice. I froze as I realized she was talking about Chris McNies and the formal. Shit. This is what I was afraid of.

  “No!” she giggled. “I wouldn’t let him do that!” I sent a silent prayer that she was talking about kissing her or something else first base like that. I had never really thought of Audrey as sexual, something that Rachel seemed to be constantly worried about with her. My heartbeat quickened and sweat began to trickle down my forehead, because after listening to just a snippet of the conversation, I could now understand why. I tried to slow my breath and stand as quietly as possible as I leaned in to hear the conversation more clearly. “I’ve heard that about him,” she said, before quickly adding, “but I’m sure it’s just a rumor. I’ll be fine.”

  What has she heard? That he moves quickly? That he dumps girls who don’t give him a blow job? That he expects sex if he buys you dinner? My mind raced and I ran my hand through my hair in an attempt to calm down. Don’t freak out. This is Audrey. Not you. I flash back to my high school prom. It’s not the same thing, Casey. Get a grip. And suddenly all my suspicions break free.

  “Mom, is that you?” I heard Audrey call out and realized that I must have made a noise. I quickly swept down the hall, trying to forget what I’d heard and the reason it had affected me so much.

  • • •

  A knock on the bedroom door jars me out of my thoughts and I walk over and open it gently, careful not to reveal Audrey. “She’ll be down in a minute,” I say to John, who’s been nervous all day. “Get the camera ready!”

  Audrey glides to the top of the staircase a few minutes later and my heart swells with pride as she maneuvers expertly in her stilettos. Rachel wraps her arm around mine and I squeeze it to let her know I realize how hard this must be for her. To watch her little girl grow up, and all the things that go along with it. That she’s probably terrified that Audrey might make the same mistakes she did. Maybe she’s even questioning settling down with the first real boyfriend she had and hopes Audrey won’t tether herself the same way. I know she’s also thinking of what happened to me on my prom night.

  I look down and catch John’s eyes filling with tears. Even Sophie is smiling brightly as she bounces Charlotte on her hip, in complete awe of Audrey’s transformation from shy girl to gorgeous young woman. I motion to John to take pictures as she floats down the stairs, her eyes on her handsome date standing at the bottom of the stairs, a ruby-red wrist corsage in his hand and that smirk on his face. I shoot a look at Rachel—did she see it too? Or was I just being overly paranoid because of my own experience? Rachel seems oblivious; she’s focused solely on Audrey.

  “You look incredible,” Chris murmurs, his eyes hungry, his hand confidently wrapped around her tiny waist as they pose for pictures. My stomach begins to ache and I fight the urge to wedge myself in between them.

  A few minutes later, they’re ready to leave, and I pull Audrey aside to the kitchen, Rachel giving me a knowing look. I’d promised her that I’d talk to her before they left. Not as if she had to ask me twice; I’d been a mess since Chris walked in. “What, Mom?” Audrey asks, annoyed that I’d tear her away from her Prince Charming.

  “I just wanted to tell you to be careful tonight.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I know, Mom, we’ve had this talk, like, a thousand times this week. I get it. No drinking, no drugs, no sex.”

  “Listen, honey,” I say, desperate to get through to her after seeing Chris undress her with his eyes. “I trust you. Just listen to your gut. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t. Okay?” I plead with her. “I just don’t want anything to happen that you’ll regret for the rest of your life,” I add under my breath, wishing that someone had said the same words to the teenage me.

  “Okay. I promise,” she says as she begins to walk away, before turning back around and giving me one last hug. “I love you,” she whispers in my ear.

  “I love you too,” I whisper back, blinking back tears.

  We wave good-bye from the door and watch through the window as Chris helps her into the waiting limousine and I squeeze John’s hand tightly as they disappear from view.

  • • •

  Later, I can’t sleep, still thinking about Chris McNies. I click off Letterman and stare at the black television screen, the static sound a low hum. He’s just a normal teenage boy, right? I feel a chill run through me and pull the chenille throw tighter around my shoulders, although I know the blanket isn’t going to warm me. John was worried about Audrey too, but he’s in bed snoring right now. He was a boy with raging hormones once too, so he should know what Chris is capable of. But he wasn’t that type of boy—he wasn’t the type that would push it if you said no. Not the type I fear Audrey could be out with now. The type I convinced John she should go out with. The type I had had to deal with all those years ago. I push the thought from my mind and check my phone again. No texts, no calls. That’s got to be a good sign, right? When Audrey left, I fought the urge to run after her and ask her to check in with me later. But I couldn’t let Chris overhear that her mother treated her like a baby. And I couldn’t make Audrey feel like I didn’t trust her, not after everything I’d done over the past several weeks to rebuild that trust for Rachel.

  But now with this nagging feeling in my stomach, I think I may have let the fact that I wanted to be cool put Audrey at risk. Should I call Rachel? I don’t want to worry her. After all, this is her daughter we’re talking about. If I’m this worried, I can’t imagine what she would go through.

  • • •

  The sound of my cell phone ringing startles me out of a ragged sleep I didn’t realize I had given into. I fumble through the couch cushions and the blanket to find it. “Hello?” I answer tightly. Please don’t let it be her.

  “Case, it’s me.” I hear the sound of my own voice and breathe in sharply.

  “Thank God. I thought you were Audrey.”

  I’m met with silence on the other end of the phone. “Rachel? Are you okay? Are you crying?”

  “You need to get over here right now. I’m with Audrey. I don’t know what to say to her,” she whispers.

  I race out of the house, not wanting to acknowledge what may have happened, but already knowing. My adrenaline is pumping at a speed I didn’t even know possible. I try to push the memories of my prom night out of my mind but I can’t. I still remember the smell of my Anais Anais perfume, the feel of my taffeta dress, the look in Mark’s eyes when I walked down our spiral staircase, my mom taking pictures with the same aggressiveness as the paparazzi do now. As I descended, I had mistaken the look in Mark’s blue eyes as one of admiration, which was really hunger. But how could I have known that? I didn’t know him at all. He was a popular upperclassman, who had never given me the time of day. I’d been so shocked when he’d leaned against my locker and asked me, a sophomore with braces, to be his date. I should have understood it was impo
ssible that he wanted to go with me because he actually liked me. I’d gripped my Trapper Keeper tightly, covering his initials, which I’d doodled, with my hand; I’d had a secret crush on him for over a year, and the only person who knew was Rachel. I barely remember saying yes, and the week before the dance was a whirlwind as I frantically searched the combed-over stores in the mall for a dress.

  We hadn’t stayed at the dance long. Just long enough for him to make an appearance and for us to share a flask of something in the parking lot with his friends and their dates, none of whom spoke more than two words to me. But I didn’t care. I remember looking at him with wide eyes, hanging on his every word, caught up in the fantasy of it all. I hated myself later for not having a sixth sense to know that something was off, to not understand what the winks and nods of his buddies in the parking lot had meant.

  It took only about three minutes, but it felt like hours. He rolled off of me and I’d cried silently in the dark of the backseat of his car. He zipped up his pants and jumped into the front seat, leaving me in the back still pulling up my underwear. He drove me home like he was my chauffeur, as tears rolled down my cheeks. He never once looked at me in the rearview mirror.

  When the pregnancy test came back positive, I told my mom even before I told Rachel. This very well may have been the worst decision I ever made.

  • • •

  I pull up to my high-rise and toss my keys to the valet, ignoring his confusion. I run toward the elevators and take the longest ride of my life. I feel like I’m running toward my younger self, trying to save her. But I worry that I’m too late to help Audrey too. I throw open the front door of my apartment and Audrey looks up, her eyes swollen from crying, looking like a shell of the girl she was just a few hours earlier. I run toward her and she throws her arms around me and weeps.