Pushing Perfect

by Michelle Falkoff

  “I’ll text them,” Raj said, and got out his phone.

  I felt a momentary pang at the knowledge that Raj had Isabel’s cell phone number. He’d been so flirty with her that first time we all met up—was that just Raj being Raj, or had they had a thing? Was I actually jealous? I thought about the night before, the jolt of our legs touching. Yes, I was jealous. There was no point in denying it.

  “We should get out of here,” Alex said.

  “I agree. Let’s go somewhere and celebrate,” Raj said.

  But I didn’t really feel like celebrating. I was just about to say I wanted to go home when Alex’s phone pinged with a text message. She picked up her phone to read it, and I watched a mix of emotions cross her face that I didn’t really understand.

  “What’s up?” I asked. “You okay?”

  “Justin wants to talk,” she said.

  “Did he change his mind?” Raj asked. “Is he not on board? I told him it was over—I thought he’d be excited.”

  “He is,” she said. “But he broke up with Mark, and he apologized for not being honest with me, and he wants to see if we can fix things. I didn’t think I could ever forgive him, but . . .”

  “But maybe you can,” I said. “You should go talk to him. We’ve all done some things we shouldn’t have, and I think we’ve paid enough. Don’t you?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s worth a shot, though. Can you guys handle celebrating on your own?”

  Raj and I looked at each other. “We can manage,” he said.

  “Do you need me to drop you off?” I asked.

  “Justin’s at Philz, right down the street. I can just meet him there. He wanted to be close by, to make sure that we were okay. That I was okay.”

  “That’s a good-friend thing to do,” I said.

  “It’s a start,” she said, and left to go meet him.

  “Do you want to go somewhere else?” Raj asked.

  “It’s kind of nice here, actually.” The sky was pitch-dark now, and stars were visible through the trees in the little park where we were sitting. The temperature had dropped a bit, and the wind was blowing, making the leaves rustle and whipping my hair around, but I didn’t mind. More important, we were sitting pretty close together on the picnic table bench, our legs touching again, and I didn’t want to move.

  “Winters here are much nicer than in England,” Raj said. “They were so dank and dreary and miserable. And cold.”

  “Was there snow?” I asked.

  “Once in a while. But it got dirty and gray so fast. It wasn’t pretty like you might imagine.”

  I’d imagined it a lot, especially since I’d decided I wanted to go to school someplace with seasons. “Do you miss it there?”

  “Not in winter,” he said. “But sometimes. Less than I used to, now that I’ve made some friends.” He nudged me with his elbow, and I nudged him back. So we were friends, then. I felt a little twinge of disappointment, but I was the one who’d insisted that friendship was the only possibility, so I had no one but myself to blame.

  “I’m so glad this is over,” I said, and I was starting to mean it. “I feel like I can finally relax. Though I don’t know if this makes sense to say, but being with you guys—it’s been really fun. I mean, when it wasn’t super scary and awful. Is that weird?”

  “Yes, it’s weird,” he said, and laughed. I laughed too. “But I think I know what you mean. Listen, can I ask you a question?”

  I felt myself tense up, but in a good way. “Sure.”

  “What you said to Alex, about us all having paid enough—did you really mean it?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Don’t you agree?”

  “It’s not that. It’s just—I keep thinking about what you told Alex a while back. About what kind of person you’d want to be with.”

  “She should never have told you that,” I said. “And I never should have said it.”

  “But on some level you meant it, didn’t you? Be honest with me.”

  I decided I would. I was going to try to be as honest as I could with everyone, from now on. Lying hadn’t made my life any better, that was for sure. “I meant it at the time,” I said. “I had this really simplistic idea in my head about the kind of person who did what you were doing. Which was totally wrong. Not to mention that I ended up basically doing the same thing. And worse.”

  “Is it still true, then?”

  “What I think about who I would date?” Was he really asking what I thought he was asking?

  He paused, as if to decide whether he really wanted to say it. “What you think about me.”

  Well, that answered that question. “I thought you flirted with all the girls,” I said. “I saw how you were with Isabel.”

  “No joking about this,” he said. “I’m serious. I know this experience has been horrible and we all want to put it behind us as fast as we can, but I have to tell you, getting to know you has been the only thing that made all of this bearable. And if we’re just going to be friends, that’s fine. But if there’s any chance, I want to know.”

  He was saying exactly what I wanted him to, and yet it kind of scared me. Why did the idea of being with him, with anyone, feel like such a risk? Was it really just about the monster?

  “We still don’t know each other all that well,” I said. “There are still things about me you should know.”

  “We have time,” he said.

  “Not a lot. We’re graduating soon.” The thought of turning my attention back to college applications was laughable, though.

  “You’re fast-forwarding,” he said.

  He was right; it was the same thing I always did. I’d told myself to slow down, but moving ahead was a habit by now.

  “I haven’t dated all that much,” I said. “Or hooked up, or whatever.”

  “Then we’ll take things very, very slowly,” he said. “Are these excuses? If you’re not into me, you can say it. It’s just that there were a couple of times when I saw you look at me and I thought maybe . . .”

  I remembered what Alex had said when we talked about college. I’d decided not to enjoy high school, to put off living thinking my real life would start later, but that had led me to do something so stupid that I might never have gotten to live my real life at all. What was the point? What, exactly, was I waiting for?

  I didn’t need to wait for anything. And I needed to stop being so afraid. I had to take a risk sometime, and here I was, sitting with a guy I really liked, who wasn’t afraid to tell me that he liked me back. He’d taken a chance, and now it was my turn.

  “You thought right,” I said.

  And then I leaned over and kissed him.

  He clearly hadn’t been expecting it; his head wasn’t turned toward mine, so my lips landed on that space where his cheek and his lips met. But just when I thought I’d made a huge mistake, that this was the kind of super awkward moment I’d never get over, he figured it out. He pulled back for just a second, then realigned himself so we could start over, properly, our lips aligned. I was afraid for a minute that he’d reach for my face, like Drew had, but he just put his hands on my shoulders to pull me closer to him, and the moment went from being awkward to perfect.

  “So we are celebrating after all,” Raj said, after we’d both pulled away. He couldn’t hide the big smile on his face, and I couldn’t hide mine, either. I didn’t want to.

  “Not for long,” I said. “I’ve put off so much because of all of this. I have to get back to work. I just don’t know how I’m going to go back to just studying and dealing with college stuff again. That seems so far away. I don’t even know if I want the same things anymore.”

  “What had you wanted?”

  I told him about how I’d always wanted to go to Harvard, or someplace east, and my parents’ whole Stanford/Harvard issue, and how I still didn’t even know what I was going to write my essay about. “I mean, I’m not exactly going to use this whole blackmail scheme to explain how I’ve grown as a person.”


  He laughed. “That would be hilarious, actually. And quite fitting. But probably not the best application strategy. I know I mentioned this to you before, but have you considered not going to college right away? Taking a gap year?”

  “Not for a second,” I said.

  “Well, maybe it’s time to think about it. It’s common practice in England, and more people here take time off than you’d think. You could focus on school without worrying about everything else, and your SAT score will still be good next year.”

  “What would I do, though? I’ve never really done anything but school. I don’t want to just sit around and hang out with my parents.”

  “People do all sorts of things,” he said. “They travel, or get jobs or externships. They figure out who they are, and who they want to be.”

  “Why aren’t you going to do one?”

  “Because my parents went through a lot for my education, and I’ve started to realize that maybe their whole thing about wanting me to be a doctor like them wasn’t just about them; it was about something they saw in me. I really do enjoy my science classes, and helping people, even if I went about it all wrong. If I want to be a doctor, I’ll probably have to do an extra year to make up for not taking enough science classes in high school, and I don’t want to wait to get started.”

  That was unexpected. We really did have a lot to learn about each other. “Wow,” I said.

  “I know, right? I’m going to be quite the respectable gentleman after all.” He reached over and took my hand. “Just think about the gap year thing, okay? Going from all this pressure to a place like Harvard, or whatever fantastic school you choose, will be a lot. There’s nothing wrong with making sure you’re ready.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, and I knew I really would.

  “But not tonight,” he said. “Tonight we need to think about happy things, to let go of the worry and the stress and just enjoy ourselves, yes? Should we leave this picnic table and do something more memorable? This is our first date, after all.”

  “You don’t think our evening’s been memorable enough?”

  “We can do better,” he said. “Come on, let’s go.”

  I took his hand, and we went off to find an adventure.

  30.

  “You didn’t,” Alex said.

  “I did,” I said. “I kissed him first and everything.” I’d called her as soon as I woke up and told her she had to come over immediately. She was there within an hour, coffees in hand. She sat at my desk while I curled up on my bed; I’d only gotten up long enough to do super-basic SCAM. Just in case I changed my mind.

  “You realize I’ve never seen your room before,” she’d said.

  “That’s true, isn’t it? You were just in the living room that one time. Yours is so awesome, there was never really any reason for you to come here.” I thought about that for a second, and then realized I wasn’t being completely honest. And the whole point of having her come over was that I was trying to be. “No, that’s not really it. It’s more that your house is fun—your parents are around a lot of the time, and you have your crazy kitchen routine, and it’s just so loving and warm, and my parents work all the time, and I guess I didn’t want you to know how cold it can feel here sometimes. Not that they don’t love me. It’s just—”

  “I know what you mean,” she said. “And I get it. Although you’ve deprived me of the opportunity to see how you live.” She looked around at my room, with its lavender walls and violet comforter and fluffy white rug. “I hadn’t realized you were such a fan of purple.”

  “It looks terrible on me, so I can’t wear it. I decided it was better just to surround myself with it at home.”

  “So what’s the big news?”

  There were a couple of things I wanted to share with her, and questions to ask, too. Starting with the Raj story, of course. She’d kill me if I made her talk about Justin first. I told her everything: about the conversation, and the kiss, and the rest of the night, when we’d driven to Pacifica and walked along the water, just talking.

  “Just talking? Seriously?”

  “Okay, mostly talking.” My face felt warm. I was not used to having this conversation. But that’s what friends did. They talked about the guys they liked. I wanted to be a good friend, since if there was one thing I’d learned, it was that Alex had been a pretty great friend to me all along, even if it had taken me a while to recognize it.

  “So what does this all mean?”

  “Why does it have to mean anything?” I asked. “You and your Prospects—what do they mean?”

  “This is not even a little bit similar, and you know it,” she said. “Besides, I think I’m ready to ditch the idea of Prospects. Maybe consider something a little more substantial.”

  “Are you now? What brought that on?” I hoped by “something a little more substantial” she meant Bryan. He’d be good for her.

  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” she said. “I thought keeping things light was a good idea, back when Justin and I were friends. But now that I look back, I wonder whether I avoided getting into anything real so it wouldn’t interfere with that friendship. I don’t think it has to be that way. Or maybe I just don’t want it to be, anymore.”

  “How did the conversation with Justin go?” I asked.

  “As well as it could. I’m still really mad at him, and not just for what he told Ms. Davenport—I’d never told him how pissed off the whole secret-boyfriend thing made me. And I should have. I let things fester too long, and now we’re in this place where we don’t trust each other, and that trust will take a long time to get back.”

  “Do you want to get it back?”

  “I want things to be better than they are now,” she said.

  It sounded like they were in the same place I was with Becca. Trust was everything in friendship, I’d come to realize. And now it was time for me to accept that, for real.

  “Can you give me a couple of minutes?” I asked. “I want to show you something.”

  “I’ve got nowhere to be,” she said. “Take your time.”

  The easiest way to do this was to take a shower. I put my hair in a bun so I didn’t have to wash it and turned the water on as hot as I could stand it. I scrubbed my face and body until I felt squeaky clean and then got out, toweled off, and threw on my clothes. Then I looked in the mirror.

  Another day with no improvement whatsoever.

  Be brave, Kara.

  I walked out of the bathroom and back into my bedroom. Alex was still sitting at the desk, turned away from me. “Turn around,” I said.

  She did.

  I don’t know what I was expecting—some sort of horrified gasp, or for her to crack up, or even to pretend she wasn’t seeing what I knew she was seeing right now. But she didn’t do any of that. Instead, she looked at me. Just looked. But really looked, like she was seeing me for the first time.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Is that all you’ve got? You realize I’m kind of baring my soul to you here.” My face turned red, and I knew she could see it.

  “It’s really nice to see the real you,” she said. Which was pretty much the best thing she could have said, under the circumstances.

  “Don’t even ask if I’ve ever considered going without makeup. It’s not going to happen. You know you’re the fourth person in the world to even see this.”

  “The fourth?”

  “Mom. Dad. My doctor. You.” I ticked them off on my fingers.

  Alex pointed to me.

  “What?”

  “I’m the fifth person,” she said. “You’re not counting yourself.”

  “Ugh, is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”

  “No, I meant it literally. You didn’t count yourself as a person there.”

  She was right. I hadn’t. But it was time to start.

  Alex went home to start on some big cooking project with her dad. She invited me over for dinner, but Mom had left
a note saying she and Dad wouldn’t be working too late and asking if I wanted to have a takeout-and-TV night. After everything that had gone on, that sounded kind of nice. I wished they’d been home to meet Alex, but there would be time for that. There would be time for a lot of things.

  They came home earlier than I expected and brought Indian food. I remembered Raj’s skepticism about Indian food in America, how it was nothing like real Indian food. Maybe someday I’d have a chance to find out. Maybe even sooner than I expected.

  “You look tired, honey,” Mom said as we dished the food onto paper plates. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s good,” I said. “Can I ask you guys something?”

  “Of course,” Dad said.

  We took our food into the living room, plates settled on the coffee table. “What would you think if I said I wanted to put off college for a year?”

  “That’s kind of sudden,” Mom said. “Is that what you really want?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I just wanted to know if that was something we could talk about, someday.”

  “We can talk about anything,” Dad said. “You know that.”

  Not anything, I wanted to say, but maybe from now on that wouldn’t be the case. Maybe I’d have to commit to being honest with everyone. “It doesn’t have to be now,” I said. “I still have some things to figure out.”

  “Well, we’re here whenever you want,” Mom said. “Now, let’s decide what to watch.”

  “CSI reruns?” Dad asked.

  “Cute boys solving crimes?” I said. “Sure.”

  There was a marathon on cable, of course, so we watched episode after episode as we ate way too much food and sank deeper and deeper into the couch cushions. I closed my eyes for a while; I’d seen the show so many times, I could guess which cute boy would be solving the crime from just a few lines of dialogue. I didn’t need to see it to know what was going on.

  A scene ended, and commercials started, loud and blaring as always. I hated how the commercials were always at such a higher volume than the shows—it was jarring every time. But this woman’s voice was so soothing, I almost didn’t mind hearing her talk about some random drug and its scary side effects.