Your Perfect Life: A Novel

by Liz Fenton

  Rachel looks at me, her eyes rimmed with red. I can tell she’s trying to hold it together now, the tears daring to leap over her eyelashes. Is she hurt because Audrey went to my house instead of her own? “She called me just a little while ago. I picked her up. She wasn’t far from where the formal took place. At a hotel . . .” Her voice trails off.

  “Audrey, what happened?” I brace myself. Please tell me he didn’t strip her of who she is. That he didn’t take everything from her. Mark’s face is clear in my mind and I’m shocked by how much detail I can remember about that night. The feel of his stubble on my cheek, the smell of his cheap cologne. The taste of the whiskey on his breath. Now I hold my own breath and wait for her to answer.

  CHAPTER 30

  * * *

  rachel

  Audrey grips the edge of the sofa, her body trembling. I put my hand over hers, shocked by how cold it still feels. Slumped down in the sofa, wearing one of Casey’s oversized sorority sweatshirts from college, her face stripped of the heavy makeup she’d been wearing, she looks like my little girl again. My eye strays to the backless dress heaped in a pile in the corner where I threw it earlier. I would’ve burned it if I could.

  After Audrey’s frantic call earlier, I’d rushed to the hotel in Beverly Hills, pulling up to find a disheveled Audrey crying on a bench next to the valet stand. We rode in silence all the way to Casey’s apartment. She’d told me she wasn’t ready to talk about it and I’d fought my motherly instincts to push her. As soon as the front door closed behind us, she’d become hysterical and cried for me to find her something—anything else—to put on. That she hated the stupid dress. I’d obeyed, gritting my teeth, trying hard not to burst into tears, helping her out of the dress and throwing it over my shoulder while Audrey scrubbed the makeup off her face, her tears and the water mixing together.

  I kneel down in front of her now and stroke her cheek, trying to wipe the tears away faster than they fall. I notice the Jimmy Choos by the front door and I’m flooded with so many feelings of regret. What had I been thinking all these weeks? I cringe, remembering how I missed the shopping trip to pick out the dress; maybe if I had been there this wouldn’t have happened. I never should have let that all fall on Casey.

  I meet Casey’s eyes and know she’s thinking about what happened to her on her prom night, a night we haven’t spoken about since her mom took her to the clinic a few weeks later. Watching Casey now, as she sits beside Audrey on the couch consoling her, her eyes hollow, in a pair of John’s sweatpants, I wish I’d consoled her when she needed me, that I’d been more understanding of what she’d gone through. Instead, I was furious with her and didn’t speak to her for weeks. I said awful things about people who terminated their pregnancies. At the time, I thought I was being a good friend, ignoring the terrified look in her eyes as I stood over her slumped silhouette and gave her the speech I had memorized on the way over about why adoption was the answer. And when she confessed she was going to terminate her pregnancy anyway, I refused to go with her, telling her I couldn’t support her decision. I’ve wondered countless times if Casey’s life would have turned out differently had her best friend comforted rather than chastised her. If only I could’ve known then that you don’t have to agree with your friends’ choices to still be there for them.

  The fact that she chose to forgive me at all still amazes me. I think she was just ready to pretend the whole thing had never happened and forgiving me was the fastest way to do that. She let me off the hook too easily and I selfishly took the cowardly way out, also pretending as if the whole thing had never happened. I start to cry harder thinking of how I had abandoned her then and how I’d abandoned my own daughter all these years later. How could I still be making the same mistakes?

  “I’m just stupid. So stupid.” Audrey pulls back from Casey’s grip, tears still spilling down her face. “I know I should’ve called you first, Mom, but I, I don’t know, I thought you’d be mad that I went to the hotel with him.”

  I start to tell her I wouldn’t have been mad, but remember I’m not her mom right now, Casey is. But then I wonder, is she right? Would the old me have been fixated on the fact that she disobeyed me? I shudder, knowing the answer.

  Casey glances at me and begins to stroke Audrey’s hair, an errant bobby pin the only sign of her earlier updo. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. Of course I’m not mad that you called Aunt Casey. I’m just glad you’re with both of us now. If you’re ready to tell us what happened, we’re here for you. Just remember it’s okay and we know it wasn’t your fault . . .” Casey’s voice trails off. Did she think her experience on prom night was her fault?

  I inhale sharply, part of me not wanting to know what happened to Audrey, but knowing that I won’t sleep until I do. I grab Audrey’s hand again and hold it tightly. “I love you,” I say, then put my other hand over Casey’s. “We love you. You can tell us anything.” Casey forces a smile and squeezes my hand in return.

  “He was awful. Cruel. And I feel like such an idiot.” Her words are nearly buried through her sobs. For a moment, Casey and I sit in silence, tears streaming down our faces, afraid to ask Audrey what she means by awful.

  “It’s okay, go on,” Casey finally says, her voice almost a whisper.

  “It was fine at first, we kissed for a little while, but when I pulled back, he pushed his face harder against mine. He told me I was beautiful and sexy and that it was going to feel good. But I didn’t want to do it . . .”

  Casey grimaces, biting her lower lip. I know we both want to ask her, “But did you?”

  “It’s okay, honey, take a breath and try drinking some water.” She runs to the refrigerator and grabs a bottle.

  Audrey takes a sip. “I told him no. I kept telling him no. But he wasn’t listening. He kept telling me to stop talking, to just enjoy the moment. He wouldn’t listen.”

  My anger starts to mount as I picture Chris McNies taking advantage of my daughter. Had I properly prepared her for this? Had we talked about sex enough? I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a conversation about it. Please, God, let her be okay. “Audrey, did he . . .” I can’t finish my sentence and Casey jumps in.

  “Did he hurt you—did he harm you in any way?”

  Audrey’s eyes grow wide and suddenly she reminds me of when she was six, going off to kindergarten for the first time. I could see in her eyes that she was so scared and could feel her shaking as she laced her fingers tightly through mine but she was trying to stay strong, probably for me. I’d been crying all morning, make that all weekend, knowing she’d be leaving me for the first time that day.

  “I told him I had to go to the bathroom, then when he tried to follow me, I kicked him hard in the nuts. Then I grabbed my shoes and purse and ran. He was still doubled over on the floor when I shut the door and ran down the hall to the elevator.” Her mouth turns up a fraction at the visual of Chris writhing in pain. “Then I called Aunt Casey.”

  Casey and I exchange a look and say thank God with our eyes. I wrap my arms tightly around Audrey and thank God again.

  “I could kill that kid,” Casey mutters under her breath.

  “You did the right thing, Audrey.” I squeeze her tightly, not wanting to let go. Not ever wanting to let go. “I’m proud of you for standing your ground.”

  “I hope he has permanent damage to his balls,” Casey says sharply.

  “If I’d been wearing my shoes when I kicked him, he might.” Audrey smiles and I’m so relieved; I know she’s going to be okay. She’s stronger, more grown up and mature than I’ve given her credit for, something that’s been so easy for Casey to see since she stepped into my role; something I guess I couldn’t see until I had stepped out of it.

  “I’m tired, Mom. Can we stay here tonight?” Audrey looks at Casey.

  “Of course,” Casey says. “Let me just call your dad. Don’t worry,” Casey says quickly when she sees the panicked look on her face. “I’ll just tell him we’re having a gir
ls’ sleepover.”

  She catches my eye and I nod in agreement. We’ll have to decide how to handle John later. “Yes, of course you can stay here, Aud. Go lay down in my bed,” I say. She walks to Casey’s bedroom and climbs into bed, curling up into a ball. Casey grabs her phone to call John and I crawl into the bed and play with Audrey’s hair until I can hear her snoring slightly, her breath deep and heavy.

  “Wine?” I look up and see Casey standing in the doorway holding two wineglasses.

  “Yes, please,” I whisper as I climb out of the bed and close the door behind me. “So, how did that go?” I motion toward the cell phone on the kitchen counter.

  “He was a little confused about why we were having an impromptu sleepover so late at night, but he was glad to hear everyone is okay.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask after Casey pours me a large glass of the J. Lohr Merlot she found in the kitchen.

  “Yeah, you?” Her eyes flicker and I know she must be thinking of her teen self.

  “I will be eventually, when I can breathe normally again. Jesus! What a night,” I say as I sink onto the couch beside Casey.

  “I could kill that little fucker,” Casey says again. “You know, I had a bad feeling about him from the second I met him, but I thought I was being overly sensitive because of what happened to me. I wish I had trusted my gut.” She looks over at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “Casey, there’s no way you could have known things were going to turn out like this. It’s not your fault.” I hold her gaze. “Now or then.” Her eyes fill with tears but she blinks them back. “I’m so sorry,” I continue. “I’m sorry about what happened to you in high school, and even more sorry I turned my back on you.” I curl my knees under me on the sofa. “If I could go back in time . . .”

  “We were kids, Rachel. How were you supposed to know how to deal with date rape and a pregnancy you didn’t ask for?” She sighs loudly.

  “But I was your best friend.” Tears start to stream down my face again. “And now, to think that could have been Audrey . . .”

  Casey grabs my hand. “But it wasn’t. Audrey’s okay. And back then, you didn’t understand what I was going through. Shit, I didn’t even understand . . .” Casey finally lets the tears drop from her eyes. “I just wanted to go back to who I was before . . . everything.”

  “Do you want to talk about it now?” I ask gently.

  Casey’s chest heaves. “The whole situation was just surreal. My mom—I still don’t understand it—she was so adamant, never asked me what I wanted. Which I guess may have been best. I was so numb and she wanted to sweep it under the rug. I never really thought about what it would mean . . .” Casey trails off and looks out her window toward the twinkling city lights. “You know that’s why I always said I never wanted kids, right?”

  “I figured.” I say softly, thinking back to my conversation with Charlie in Santa Barbara. The real reason he and Casey broke up. “Case, I’m so sorry. It must have been awful. I was awful.”

  “You were sixteen. And very self-righteous!” She smiles through her tears.

  “That’s no excuse. And tonight, when Audrey was so upset, I was so scared that the same thing had happened to her . . .”

  Casey leans over to pick up the bottle of wine and refills our glasses. “But it didn’t. Thank God it didn’t. Her mom raised her right.”

  I think about Casey’s own mom, a no-nonsense woman who ran her household like it was a Fortune 500 company and she was the CEO. She had handled Casey’s date rape and pregnancy like she would any company crisis, by getting rid of the problem quickly and efficiently. “I’m sorry your mom didn’t give you a choice. If she had—”

  “Who knows, Rachel,” Casey says before I can finish my sentence. “I don’t know,” she says again and looks toward her closed bedroom door.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to know,” I offer.

  “I’ve thought about it a lot lately,” Casey says. “Being with Charlotte and the kids has made me realize that maybe I do want some of my own. That I can’t let some asshole from twenty years ago ruin the rest of my life, my relationships . . .” Casey trails off before adding, “And there’s something I need you to know. Something I should have told you a long time ago. About me and Charlie.”

  I lean back against the pillows and drain my glass, already knowing what she’s about to say. “Tell me,” I say.

  “I know you’re probably wondering what happened between us, why I’ve been so adamant about you not rekindling things with him.”

  “Why you never even mentioned the cutest guy at your work to me?” I add, and poke her in the arm.

  “Yeah.” She smiles. “I never mentioned him because I really liked him. He was so different from any guy I had ever been with. He made me laugh, but also never let me get away with my usual shit. He made me feel like he would love me no matter what happened with my career. And that scared the living bejesus out of me.”

  He would, I think. Charlie was the real deal. I think back to our romantic dinner. The way he looked into my eyes, Casey’s eyes, like nothing else mattered. And I feel a little sick thinking about how I’d been playing around the last few weeks with someone she felt so strongly about, even if he did think I was her. Because inside, it had been me, Rachel, who had been falling for him. Again, I had failed Casey as a friend.

  “Things were going really well,” she continued. “In fact, I was getting ready to tell you about it, maybe even introduce him to you and John.”

  “So what happened?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

  “My period came late,” Casey whispered. “I thought I was pregnant. I flipped out, Rachel. I said awful things to him. That he was trying to trap me. That it would ruin my career. That I would get rid of it and there was nothing he could do.” I grab Casey’s shaking hand. “I ruined it. And all over nothing. My period came three days later. I tried to apologize but the damage had been done. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye the next week at work. And the worst part? I cried when I got my period. There was a part of me that desperately wanted that baby.”

  “Did you ever tell him what happened to you in high school? Help him understand?” I ask gently.

  “No.” Casey shakes her head. “That’s not exactly something that comes up on your third date at Mastro’s over butter cake.”

  “Mmm, butter cake.” I smile before adding, “I guess I just was thinking if he had known, he might have understood why you went a bit crazy.” I stand up and walk toward the fireplace, glancing at a picture of Casey and me from New Year’s Eve four years ago that I’d dug out of her closet last week. We’re drunk and hanging on to each other for dear life. I smile to myself. When had we stopped leaning on each other?

  “What’s done is done,” Casey says flatly.

  “Not necessarily,” I answer. “These past few weeks, he’s really opened his heart back up.”

  “Yeah, to you! He seems to like the Rachel-ized version of me much better than the real Casey.” She laughs nervously and we both know she’s not kidding.

  “Well, yes, but it’s you he’s in love with.” As I say it, I realize how foolish I’ve been to think that what Charlie and I have is real. For him, it will always be Casey. And that’s the way it should be. “The only thing I did was let him back in. The question is, can you do the same when you get back into your body?”

  “I think I can.” She rubs her temples. “If we ever figure out how to do that.”

  “We will, I promise,” I say, and mean it. Then I put my arms around her and try to be there for her the way I wasn’t so many years ago, the way I have really never been.

  CHAPTER 31

  * * *

  casey

  “How many more?” Audrey groans as she slaps another personalized label on the mini Moët & Chandon champagne bottles we’re giving as party favors for John’s surprise party this weekend. Let’s toast to the birthday boy! printed on the side of each one. Rachel and I thought it would
be cute to give the guests something to toast with, since that’s what got us into this whole body-switching mess in the first place. It was our own little inside joke.

  I check my list. “About twenty,” I answer and glance at her out of the corner of my eye. It had been a few days since the dance and she seemed to be bouncing back well. I thought that kicking Chris’ ass in the hotel room had even given her a quiet strength I hadn’t seen before. Or maybe I was just looking at her differently now. Either way, her main concern had been about what Chris would say to her at school the next week, what he would tell his friends, or worse yet, what he would post on Facebook. But to her surprise, he walked up on Monday morning and apologized, and begged her to forgive him; she reluctantly agreed to just so he would leave her alone. “It was crazy, Mom!” she said breathlessly after bursting through the door after school as I was giving Charlotte a bath. “It was as if he was scared of me!” She held up her arm and flexed her muscles. “I guess I’m tougher than I thought,” she murmured proudly.

  I tickled Charlotte’s naked tummy and she giggled in delight. “You certainly are,” I said to Audrey as I wrapped Charlotte in a hooded ducky towel.

  “It’s just so weird. What could have changed his attitude so much?” Audrey took Charlotte out of my hands and carried her expertly to her room to dress her.

  “I have no idea,” I called out as she pranced down the hall. I pulled out my phone from my pocket and sent a quick text to Rachel: The eagle has landed.

  My phone vibrated a moment later: Good work. I owe you one.

  I smiled to myself before responding: The pleasure was all mine.