Happily Ever Madder : Misadventures of a Mad Fat Girl (9781101607107)

by Mcafee, Stephanie

  “I did,” I say. “That was the first day the gallery was open and he came to pick up those pictures for his aunt Ramona, and when I saw him, I freaked out and started trying to primp and smeared paint in my hair.” I look at her. “’Cause that’s how I roll.”

  “Right. Well, according to him, all he’s been able to think about since that day is effin’ your brains out.” She looks at me. “Only he didn’t say effin’.”

  “Oh no!” I wail. “I’ve been thinking the same thing since the same time. I want to have sex with him so bad I can hardly stand it, and it’s driving me crazy. There—I said it! I’ve been holding that in for over a month now.”

  “I suspected as much that night we hung out.” She glances at me. “Y’all were just having a little too much fun together.”

  I start laughing and tell her how horribly guilty I feel all the time.

  “And not just because of the crush I have on him,” I say. “I get bored to death in that art gallery, and I just don’t think this whole full-time-artist thing is for me. I mean, I always had this idea that it would be so cool to have my own studio and paint all day every day, but it’s nothing like I thought it would be. I really don’t enjoy it that much at all, and I’m not making any money, and I miss teaching school.”

  “Oh my,” Jalena says, laughing. “If you miss teaching school, it must be rotten!”

  I start laughing, too, and tell her that teaching school isn’t that bad, but she doesn’t look convinced. Even after I tell her it’s not boring at all and comes with a very reliable income and lots of time off.

  “Well, your life sure looks good from the outside,” she says. “You’re about to marry a big-shot lawyer, you own your own business, and you have an adorable little dog that humps pillows like a champ, not to mention that big, beautiful home with a view of the ocean.” She looks at me. “I just don’t see how it can be that bad.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I tell her. “I’m so lucky to have what I’ve got, and that’s why I don’t understand why I’m so damn attracted to Kevin Jacobs.”

  “Are you happy with Mason?” Jalena asks, and the directness of her question catches me off guard.

  “I love him so much,” I say.

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  I hold up my left hand and point to my engagement ring. “I’ve dreamed about this my entire life. All I’ve ever wanted was to be with him.”

  “Still didn’t answer my question.”

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m happy with him. I just thought it would be different. I mean, I love him so much, I really do, but he talks my damn head off. And don’t get me wrong, I think he’s a great guy, and I have so much respect and admiration for him, but when he’s not boring me to death talking about work, he’s at work, because he’s got this big, important case that is unbelievably time-consuming—”

  “So it’s just this one case?” She looks at me.

  “I don’t know, but I think so,” I say. “Honestly, I thought he worked whenever he wanted to and I didn’t think that was ever very much. I certainly didn’t know it would be like this with him working sixteen hours a day six days a week.”

  “So what will life be like once he’s finished?”

  “It’s got to get better.” I sigh. “We’ve somehow managed to get really out of tune with each other, and living with him has just turned out to be so—I don’t even know how to explain what I’m trying to say—”

  “Disappointing?” she says.

  I look at her and sigh again. “Exactly,” I say. “I know I must sound like a spoiled child when I say this, but the entire experience has not turned out anything like I thought it would, and, yes, I’m a little disappointed that it hasn’t.”

  “Nothing taints a big dream like a good dose of reality.”

  “That’s depressing as hell,” I say, and she starts laughing.

  “Being a grown-up sucks,” she says. “Too much of the real world, you know?”

  “I couldn’t possibly agree with you more.”

  “So what are you going to do, Ace Jones, now that your dream life let you down?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t bring myself to tell Mason how I feel about the gallery because he bought me that building. Just bought it for me, and, hell, even if I did want to tell him, I’d never have a chance because he’s always talking nonstop about this case. And then I have to go eat dinner in that damn conference room all the time with him and Allison and Connor.” I look at Jalena. “You can start billing me by the hour for this if you need to.” She laughs and tells me to keep talking. I ask her if I can call her Dr. J and she says no. Then I remember something Mason mentioned that I’ve been meaning to ask her about. “Hey!” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Mason said you used to date Connor.”

  “Uh, that was a while back, and I don’t think ‘dating’ would be the right word, if you know what I mean.”

  “Do tell,” I say, thoroughly distracted from my pathetic personal problems.

  “It started way back when he was in the tenth grade and I was a senior and we hooked up at a party one night, and then we just kept on hooking up for a long time after that,” she says. “It was never anything serious, but I won’t lie and say I wasn’t crazy about him.”

  “So when was the last time y’all hooked up?”

  “It was after he moved to Tallahassee, and, yes, before you ask, he was dating Allison at the time. I knew he’d started seeing someone, and that was fine because I had, too.” She looks at me. “I used to be kind of a bad girl.”

  “Used to be?” I snort.

  “You’re a funny girl,” she says lightly. “Anyway, the first two years he was at Florida State, we hooked up pretty much every time he came home. Then one weekend, he brought Allison home to meet Mama, and the minute I saw her, I knew our affair was over because she’s just the type of girl that a guy like him is ‘supposed’ to end up with. You know what I mean? One of those nice, polite girls who look like they model for Ann Taylor Loft, and they’re calm and quiet and lovely all the time.” She bats her eyelashes and looks at me.

  “I know exactly what you mean, because that’s exactly what Rachel McKenzie is looking for in a daughter-in-law. She would very much prefer for Mason to have a clone of Allison.”

  I ask Jalena if she ever thought Connor was marriage material, and when she stops laughing she says that she most certainly did not.

  “We’re too much alike,” she says. “Which makes for a great affair, but we would’ve killed each other in a real relationship. Men like him have to have a woman who can put up with a lot of shit, and that ain’t me.”

  I tell her what Mason said about Connor and Allison getting into it all the time and how she goes home to Tallahassee after a lot of these fights. We discuss whether their problems stem more from Allison being spoiled or from Connor being a jerk. I tell her I think it’s about even. She asks me what I think about Allison, so I take that as an opportunity to share snippets of stories about PoPo, to which I add a considerable amount of personal flair. She laughs so hard she starts snorting.

  “But she’s nice,” I say. “It’s just that we’re so different and we won’t ever bond over anything other than her dog. But I think she’s a good person. I really do. Just not very exciting.”

  “Well, that’s okay, too.”

  “Yeah.” I look at her. “So you didn’t consider Connor the marrying kind and you’ve dated an assortment of other fellows but you’ve never found that one that you just couldn’t get off your mind?”

  “Nope,” she says without even having to think about it. “Not even close.”

  “That’s terrible,” I say, holding on to the door handle as she wheels into the parking lot of the outlet mall.

  “Is it?” she asks, and I just sit there because I don’t know what to say. “C’mon,” she says, getting out of the Jeep. “Let’s go get our fat-girl retail therapy on.”

  34

  Jalena shows me around to all the store
s that cater to those of us above a size sixteen, and I end up spending a truckload of money and making three trips back to the car to drop off bags. Out of the fifty-something clothing stores at the Foley outlet mall, only six are what Jalena calls “fat-girl friendly,” but that’s okay because most malls have only one fat-girl-friendly store, two at the most, and unless they’re having one hell of a sale, I can’t afford to shop at either one.

  We have lunch at the pizzeria and talk about how we wouldn’t be confined to the fat-girl-friendly stores if we didn’t love food so much.

  “But I do,” Jalena says. “And that’s just how I am and that’s okay. Skinny people ain’t perfect; they just have a different set of snags.”

  “And a better selection of places to shop,” I say.

  “Well, we’ve got a better selection at restaurants and grocery stores, so I guess everything has a trade-off,” Jalena says, and we both start laughing. “Like those iced cookies at Walmart that I’m addicted to. Skinny girls can’t eat those every day like I do.”

  “Freedom,” I say, picking up a piece of pizza. “It’s a sliding scale.”

  “Nobody needs a scale, girl!” Jalena says. “We just need to be happy with who we are. All of us. Fat ones, skinny ones, short ones, tall ones, ugly ones, pretty ones, smart ones, dumb ones.”

  “Well, it’s a lot easier to be happy when you have decent clothes to wear, so thanks for bringing me over here.”

  “Amen and no problem,” she says.

  On the ride back to Pelican Cove, she asks me what it’s like to be in love with someone for as long as I’ve been with Mason.

  “It’s miserable!” I say, then tell her the whole story from the first time I saw him.

  “I think y’all will be okay,” she says. “You said you were under a lot of stress when you first moved down here, working all the time and stuff, and now he’s under a lot of stress because he’s working all the time, so I think if you just give it some more time and let y’all’s work schedules even out, it’ll all work out just fine.” She looks at me. “Hopefully.”

  “Hopefully,” I say. “And I know I need to give us a fair chance by doing my part to make it work.” I look at her. “Why did you tell me that about Kevin this morning?”

  “That’s need-to-know information that you needed to know,” she says, not taking her eyes off the road. “Even Reed noticed that y’all had chemistry, and he was drunk as Cooter Brown.”

  “Really?” I say. “It was that obvious?”

  “Well, he didn’t use the word ‘chemistry,’ but he did say that y’all looked like a pair of horny coon dogs.” She looks at me. “And after I talked to Kevin yesterday, I knew I had to let you know.”

  “Got it,” I say. “Thank you for that.”

  And then we start reviewing our plans to orchestrate the fall of Lenore Kennashaw.

  *

  Later that night, I’m trying on all my new outfits in the bedroom when I hear Mason pull up in the driveway. I slip on the sexy red dress I bought to wear to the charity ball and wiggle and squirm while I zip it up. I walk down the stairs as fast as the dress will allow, then strike a pose on the staircase just as Mason opens the front door.

  He’s got a sack full of crab legs in one hand and a box of Corona in the other. When he sees me, he promptly puts the beer on the floor and sets the bag on the table by the door. He whistles as he walks toward me, then takes my hand and turns me around.

  “Oh, baby, is it my birthday?” he says, running a hand over the silky fabric.

  “I was wondering if you would be my date for the annual Caboose Charity Ball next Saturday night.”

  “I’ll be your date for anything,” he says, sliding his hand behind my back. “I really like your new dress.” He pulls me up close to him and I can feel how much he likes it.

  I hear paper rustling and look over to see Buster Loo up on the couch, straining toward the crab legs on the end table.

  Mason turns to look, too, then looks back at me. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  “Now, Buster Loo,” he tells the dog when he reaches for the bag. “You know we have to cook these first.” He grabs the sack of seafood and the beer, which he takes into the kitchen, and I hear him cramming it all into the fridge. When he steps back around the corner, he’s loosening his tie with one hand and unbuttoning his shirt with the other. He puts his arms around my waist and we have the hottest make-out session we’ve had since the night I showed up on his doorstep and told him I was back.

  He stops kissing me, takes off his shirt, and nods toward our bedroom. When we get upstairs, he unzips my dress, and when it falls to the floor, he admires my brand-new camisole.

  “You need to go shopping every day,” he tells me, running a hand over the lace. “Baby, you are so hot.”

  “I’ll understand if you need to get downstairs and boil those crab legs,” I tease.

  “Fuck those crab legs,” he says, taking off his pants.

  We fall into bed and have some earthshaking sex, during which I don’t think about anyone but him. After he falls asleep, I lie awake in bed thinking that talk I had with Jalena must’ve done me a lot of good.

  Sunday morning, Mason wakes me up early because he’s ready for breakfast.

  “You seduced me last night and I forgot all about eating supper,” he says as we walk downstairs. He starts the coffee and I start frying bacon and Buster Loo parks himself next to the stove and gets in his Coke-bottle stance. A minute later, Mason pours us both a cup of coffee and gives me a hug.

  “I was starting to think you didn’t like me anymore,” he says.

  “You know better than that,” I tell him.

  “I do after last night,” he says and slaps me on the butt. He goes outside to get the paper, then comes back in and spreads it out on the bar. He flips through it section by section, reading me the parts he finds interesting or funny and asking me what I think about this or that news story. He sets the table and refills our coffee cups while I butter the biscuits and we sit down to eat. I smile to myself because this is more like the life I’d always imagined having with him.

  After breakfast, Mason takes Buster Loo for a walk and I go out on the porch and plop down on a lounge chair. I think about the fact that I haven’t been to church since I moved down here almost four months ago and decide that today might be a good day to start back. Especially since I’ve got a brand-new dress and some cool new heels to wear. Plus I need all the help I can get staying on the right track and steering clear of temptation.

  When Mason gets home, I ask him if he’d like to go with me and he tells me that he’s already told his workout buddies he would be at the gym today. He promises he’ll go next week, then asks what church I plan to go to.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I’ll go to that big round one just up the road. You know the one with all the flags outside? Have you ever been there?”

  “No, but if you like it, that’s where we can start going if you want.”

  “Okay, great.”

  An hour later, I pull into the parking lot of the Greater Praises Worship Center. I walk to the front, where I stop and stare for a minute at the stunning display of cut beveled glass. A nice-looking teenage boy opens the door for me, and I walk into a meticulously decorated lobby where people are milling around all over the place. Some guy gives me a very elaborate church bulletin and three mints with a picture of the church printed on the wrapper. Another fellow holds open the door as I walk into a gigantic sanctuary that’s shaped like a stop sign. I look up and see flags from a bunch of different countries hanging from the ceiling. A few people come up and shake my hand; then after a few minutes, the doors to the lobby simultaneously close and the lights go dim. I decide to have a mint.

  Next thing I know, the lights go completely off and I’m standing in the pitch-black darkness. Music begins to play, softly at first, then louder and louder to the point where I start to get nervous. All of a sudden, beams of light start
flashing across the auditorium in blue, yellow, and red, and then a light show commences that makes me wonder if that mint I just had might have been laced with hallucinogenic drugs. A spotlight comes on and whirls all around the room before finally coming to a stop on the choir, which somehow magically appeared on the large circular stage in the center of the sanctuary. Spotlights beam down on a band that starts jamming out to the music that’s already playing, and then the light show starts again. The choir is dancing and clapping and singing, but I can’t understand a word of their song. The recorded music stops and the band takes over and spends a few minutes playing some hard-core rock and roll, during which everyone in the sanctuary starts jumping around like monkeys, including the choir.

  I’m thinking it’s about time for me to go when another spotlight comes on and beams down on the choir leader, who is doing what looks like a tribal dance as she makes her way down the middle aisle toward the stage. Something about that person looks very familiar, but it might just be that my mind has gone squirrely from all the special effects. The choir leader hops up onto the stage, holds up both hands, and points toward the ceiling. I watch as three movie screens descend simultaneously from the flag collection. The choir starts to sing and the band rocks even harder and the lights start flashing, and then it goes completely dark.

  I look around in a panic, but all the doors are still closed and the only thing I can see is the faint glow of the movie screens. The place is so quiet I could hear a pin drop. The screens light up and I see the choir leader, eyes closed and hands stretched toward heaven. The music starts again, the choir harmonizes, and Lenore Kennashaw opens her eyes as the camera zooms in on her face.

  She orders the band to start playing, and then the choir starts singing and everyone starts jumping around like monkeys again. Lenore starts chanting praises and I start making my way to the back of the sanctuary. I see a man posted up next to what looks like it might be a door, and when I get up there, he grills me on why I’m leaving. I look at him and he looks possessed, so I decide to take the easy way out and tell him I’ve got a raging case of the squirts.