“Yeah,” I said. “I still love Jenny. And she couldn’t help who her parents were. I can relate.”
“We know,” Ursula said, patting my arm. “Still, you could probably get a job in Special Collections if you tried. The dean loves you.”
“I just started this job. Maybe in a year,” I said.
“But you’ll try?” Ursula said hopefully.
“The dean told me the last time there was an opening, there were two thousand applicants. And the position didn’t even give benefits,” I said.
“But none of those two thousand people were you,” Ursula said.
“You’re sweet to believe in me,” I said, smiling at my best friend.
“I’m not sweet. I just believe dreams come true,” Ursula said.
“We know you do,” Emily said. “You’ve come so far, you’re proof.”
I’d met Ursula in high school, sitting near the lost and found and paging through a paperback. Back then she had huge glasses, greasy hair, and acne. She loved The Hobbit and romance novels equally, and as a result had as many friends as the Venn diagram of kids who admit to liking both of those had. That would be zero.
When I found her sitting there, reading a free book, I’d known instantly that she wasn’t going to say anything about my hair or my face or my patches. We were two social lepers together, and since then, Ursula had slowly come out of her shell, gotten a scholarship and a job and a better shampoo, and blossomed into one of those sexy librarians that men went crazy for.
“I’m just saying,” Ursula said, “that you can have anything you want if you actually believe it.”
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? And I have an apartment with built-in bookshelves,” I said. “Maybe you can come over later,” I told Ursula. “After I’m not living out of boxes.”
“And I can come over and perform an exorcism on your neighbor,” Emily said.
“As long as you bring wine to an exorcism,” I said, even though I was aware of the very real threat of Emily knocking on Oliver’s door and screaming at him until he moved out.
“Wine is included in all exorcisms,” Emily said.
“Then it’s a plan,” I said.
Oliver
I was trying to nap in the doctors’ lounge when Avery came in and lifted my feet, scooting under my legs to rest at the other end of the uncomfortable sofa, her long brown ponytail tickling my legs as she leaned over me.
“Fuck off,” I said with my eyes closed.
“Wow, you’re in a sunshiny mood.”
“Fuck. Off.” I opened my eyes and hit her hand.
“No. Tell me about this wedding,” she said and I groaned. I’d mentioned the phone call with my mom to Avery during a lull between patients. I’d also told her about Brad and Mia’s wedding present.
They were saving all their money to buy a small house just outside of the city, in Berwyn, which was almost impossible to do when both of them worked for a nonprofit. When Mia had told me about their finances, she’d bitten her lip in embarrassment and explained that Brad hadn’t wanted to ask for the help they needed. That had been all the convincing I’d needed before writing her a check for a down payment, wiping out my savings. Brad had told me it was too much, but he took the check. He hugged me and said I was a hero. Not exactly.
I played that moment of special idiocy on my personal blooper reel, which repeated with relentless frequency in my head.
“No. I’m not going to talk about the wedding, or think about the wedding, or even go to the wedding.”
“Wait, but I thought you had to go to the wedding,” she said. When I didn’t answer she slapped me on the leg with surprising force for such a tiny woman.
“Ow?”
“How can you get out of going to the wedding?” she said.
“Leave me alone.”
“You’re rude.”
“I’m tired. GO. AWAY. I’m trying to sleep.”
“Whatever, you never sleep. Talk.”
“Fine. I told my mom in a voicemail I couldn’t get off of work and travel that far. Then she called back and said that if I didn’t have the decency to come up with a good lie to not go to the wedding, it was fine, since the wedding is, in her words, ‘a joke.’ Since she’s in charge of paying for the rehearsal dinner, though, she wanted to make sure I was coming. It makes her look bad, apparently.”
“Your mom sounds like a viper.”
“Then I’m describing her correctly.”
“Still, she’s right. Everyone knows the best part of working in the ER is the flexible schedule. That’s why I got into it.” She paused and then added, “Besides saving lives. That’s a pretty good perk, too.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m still not going.”
“Hmm,” Avery said. “Tell me more about your brother.”
“Brad? He’s a good guy.”
“He’s a good guy whose brother won’t go to his wedding? I don’t think so. What did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” I said, shutting my eyes. “Trust me, Bradley is the epitome of a perfect brother.”
“Uh oh.”
“What?” I cracked one eye open to peer at her. She had high cheekbones and natural pink lips, and smart, too. She went to Johns Hopkins, whereas I had barely stayed out of the Caribbean for med school. She was probably the smartest doctor I knew. She was definitely the prettiest. It was too bad she wasn’t Mia.
“The ‘epitome of a perfect brother’? Nuh uh. Whenever someone talks about perfection, that’s exactly where the trouble is. Either you’re lying to me, he’s lying to you, or you’re lying to him. Which one is it?” She cocked her head and waited for my response.
“Perfection is suddenly a bad thing?”
“It’s not a bad thing. It’s an impossible thing. It’s like the future, a figment of our imaginations. When someone utters the word ‘perfect,’ they’re delusional. Or putting someone on a pedestal. Or, in your case, lying about something.”
I sat up. “Hey, I could just be delusional.”
“You’re not. You’re way too realistic and truthful for that.”
I thought about what she’d said. “You’re right,” I said. “But I’m not telling you what’s going on. It’s too embarrassing.” I slumped back down and closed my eyes, but my body was no longer tired. Actually, my body ached with tiredness after too many voluntary night shifts, but my mind wouldn’t shut up.
“Oh,” she said with sadness in her tone.
“Hmm?”
“It’s your brother’s wedding, and he’s perfect, so it’s you. You’re the one who did something.”
I rolled on my side to face the cushions, kicking Avery as I went. “Not talking about it.”
“Night,” Avery said as the weight of her left the sofa. She said, “Oliver, maybe you should tell your brother whatever it was that you did. I bet he’d understand.”
Then I was left alone again with my blooper reel of mistakes and the knowledge that Brad would definitely not understand them.
Two
Delaney
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror with a box of Clairol. In LA I went to a salon every few weeks to get my white stripe dyed the same color as the rest of my hair, effectively camouflaging it, but I’d let it go since things had melted with Cliff, and it was back with a vengeance, just like the rest of my life. I’d taken to not even looking in the mirror, maneuvering around it in every bathroom by averting my eyes. I’d grown accustomed to avoiding my face the same way I’d started to like soft foods when I had braces. I ate meals of applesauce and porridge so often I eventually craved them. When the braces came off, it was a shock to chew gum. Gum was simply a freedom I hadn’t known.
It had been years since I’d really examined my face, and seeing myself was much worse than a gum-less life. I opened the box of dye just as my phone rang. I picked it up from the side of the sink. “Hi Mom.”
“When are you going to let me see your new apartment?” she said.
“N
ot today. I’m busy.”
“Doing?”
“Dying my hair, actually. You’d be pleased.” My mom made a tsking sound and then said, “Good. People don’t treat those with disabilities the same, you know. I’m glad you’re doing that for yourself.”
“It’s not a disability. It’s just some white hair and some patches.”
“Well, you know I love you no matter how you look,” she said with the cluck of her tongue.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, remembering the time in high school after Dad died when my mom had looked into cemetery plots. She had bought three. One for dad, one for her, one for me. “Because you’re probably not getting married,” she’d explained. “And it’s cheaper to just do it now.”
“I have an idea,” Mom said. “I’ll come over and dye your hair for you. I do a better job anyway.”
“Right,” I said, eyeing the box like a new enemy. A rebellious streak bubbled in me and I said, “Actually, Mom, I think I’m going to leave it white.”
“But what will people think?” she said.
“Their thoughts, Mom, just like they always do.” I tossed the box in the trash, even though I wanted to fish it right back out after I got off the phone with my mom. Not dying my hair might make me miserable to look in the mirror, but at least it would make my mom miserable, too.
***
I sat across from Ursula and Emily with a plate of mushroom pizza at The Cannery. “I am so sorry,” Ursula said. “I forgot you used to work here in high school.”
“It’s not a problem.” I picked a mushroom off the slice and popped it in my mouth. “I think the flashbacks of oven burns are gone. It took me two years before I could eat pizza, but I’m fine now. It’s not like you made me go back to the high school.” I shuddered and Ursula nodded somberly. “Yeah, that place is a black hole of souls. I get a chill whenever I drive by it.”
“Plus, I’m a carb-atarian. I can live off of anything starchy,” I said as I dipped a crust into ranch dressing.
“I wish I could,” Ursula said. “I blow up like a balloon when I eat like that.”
I surveyed her tiny waist, her thin legs protruding out of her red pencil skirt, and then glanced up at her angular cheekbones and jutting collarbone. “Sure,” I said.
“Right?” Emily said, waving her fork manically. “She’s practically invisible and she’s always on a diet!”
“That’s not true. I used to be big. You guys know that.”
Ursula did not used to be big. She used to be a curvaceous size twelve in college, when she went from a starving emo teen to one who realized her financial aid paid for unlimited trips to the cereal bar for Froot Loops. She was happy and beautiful until she decided the reason she couldn’t get a date was because of her weight. Pretty soon she’d lost twenty pounds, three dress sizes, and thousands upon thousands of personality points. She constantly talked about what foods she couldn’t eat, which foods were unhealthy, and the glycemic index of everything, including, once, an observation that paper was carb-heavy. That was right before I’d left Prairie Glen, and I was still adjusting to Ursula’s thinness. She’d gotten even thinner, and now she looked like a half-deflated balloon.
“I thought you wanted me to bring in cookies to work,” I said.
“I do! Yum!” she said with fake enthusiasm.
“How’s Sam?” I asked Emily, eager to steer the conversation away from diets.
“Sam is the same as he always is. You know that,” Emily said.
I sighed. “He is so amazing. How did you find the perfect man so easily? Who stays with her high school sweetheart?”
“Me, when it’s Sam,” she said.
“Mmm, Sam,” Ursula said, and Emily murmured her assent, her lids half-closed as she bit her lip.
“Miss him?” I said. She shook her head and said, “Uh, it’s just been a while.”
“I understand,” I said.
“He’s always saying just the right, enlightened things, too,” Ursula said. “The last time I saw him he told me that he appreciates how I approach life so honestly. I’d never thought of myself like that.”
“Where is he, anyway? I hardly ever see him,” I said.
“Traveling. He’s always traveling for work,” Emily said.
“Well, he’s a travel writer,” I said.
“Yeah,” Emily said glumly.
“Does it get lonely?” Ursula asked.
“Yes,” she said, picking at her pizza. “And this is making me sad. Let’s talk about something else. I want to know about Jackass.”
“Blah. No,” I said.
“I miss my boyfriend and I want a good story.” She clapped her palm on the table. “Please?”
“Okay,” I said.
“So, talk. Did you run into Jackass again today?” Emily asked.
“I still prefer Douche Nozzle, sexist or not,” Ursula said.
“Jackass,” Emily insisted.
“You know what?” Ursula said.
“What?” Emily and I both asked her in unison.
“My cousin lives in that building. That’s how I found out about the apartment. I should talk to him about teaching this guy some manners. Or kicking him in the ass.”
“I don’t need your cousin to do any ass-kicking,” I said, and Emily said, “Because I’m going to do it for her.”
“No. I can handle bad manners and a man not being attracted to me,” I said, trying to sound strong, even though just thinking about his insults made anxiety flutter through the empty spaces of my chest. “It sounds kind of perfect, actually. That way I won’t make bad decisions concerning which men make good friends.”
“You don’t make bad decisions concerning men,” Emily said. Then she hedged. “Well….”
“Cliff?” Ursula’s eyes widened. “How could you consider Cliff not a bad decision? He was…he was…”
“A terrible boyfriend,” Emily finished. “But maybe a mistake to learn from?”
“Yeah, exactly. He was a great friend, but not much more. He’s still a great friend, but it taught me that I am not designed to be paired with another human being,” I said. “So it wasn’t a bad decision. It was a learning experience.”
“You made the decision to cut off all men because of Cliff?” Emily leaned in my face, her wine sloshing in her glass. “No, Laney. NO. You’re great. Don’t sequester yourself because you don’t want to be hurt again. Learn from the experience, like you said, and try again.”
“It was five years of experience,” I said. “And there’s nothing criminal about not wanting to be hurt.”
“You’re just hiding,” Emily said. “You’re afraid of rejection, just like with that Special Collections job.”
“There’s nothing wrong with hiding,” I said, touching my forehead.
“Yeah,” Emily said, eyeing my hair and my patch. “It’s working really well for you. Speaking of, how’s your mom?”
“That was low,” Ursula said to Emily, and I nodded.
“It’s my right to be a spinster if I want to be a spinster, and to enjoy that the hot guy across the hall is a jackass,” I said, still hurt.
“Wait!” Ursula said, her hands in the air. “You never told me Douche Nozzle was hot. I mean Jackass. Whatever his name is. Now I really need to go to your place.”
“Oh yeah. He’s got this dark hair and this sharp, angled jaw. And these searing blue eyes.”
“Oh?” Ursula said, her eyes widening. Emily said, “And his body is shaped like a V. Seriously. I do not get how some men do that. He’s like a funnel. You’ve got to see him, Urs.”
Ursula twisted a napkin in her hands and looked around the room, her eyes not landing on anything, roaming. “Laney, what’s this guy’s name?”
“Oliver.”
She groaned and put her face in her hands. It sounded like she said, “Blarfle.”
“What?” I said.
Her head came up and she repeated miserably, “Oliver is my cousin.”
“Oh,” I s
aid.
“Yeah.”
“Well, your cousin is hot, Urs,” Emily said.
“Wait, I thought you thought he was a jackass,” I said.
“I did. He’s still hot,” Emily said.
“I should talk to him about being nicer to you,” Ursula said. “I can come over today.”
“Tomorrow,” I said. “Tonight I have to ask him about property damage.”
Later that evening, I was balancing a warm cherry pie on my palm and knocking on his door with my free hand, plastering a smile to my face before he opened the door.
But he didn’t open the door. A miniscule brunette in a Metallica concert t-shirt and nothing else yawned and then looked up at me. “Yeah?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, this is for Oliver.” I handed her the pie, which she took, staring down at it like she didn’t understand the meaning of dessert. Taking in her spindly legs poking out from under the shirt, she probably didn’t. “And, I mean, you too. I’m just trying to be neighborly, you know.” I widened my fake smile.
The brunette cocked her head. “Where are you from?”
“Across the hall, but before that, around LA.”
“Ah.”
“So, anyway, I’m Delaney, and I live across the hall, and your boyfriend? Or husband? Or…” I trailed off, hoping she would help me out, but she simply stared at me blankly. “Um, there’s a bike repair I need to talk to Oliver about.”
“Oliver’s fixing your bike?” she said, narrowing her eyes at me.
“I hope he’s fixing my bike,” I said, and when she looked wary, I added, “Platonically. Anyway, would you let him know?”
She nodded, and as I turned to leave, Oliver appeared behind the brunette, shirtless, wet, with a towel wrapped low on his waist. My eyes dipped to the towel, near the indentations on his hips, and then quickly traveled back up. I tried very, very hard to not register his abs, or his pecs, or his smiling face. Why were the jerks always so attractive? I thought as I clenched my legs together at the sight of him.
“Delaney.” He sounded chipper for once, probably because of the tiny brunette and what she’d been doing before the Metallica t-shirt was on.
My cheeks heated as I looked at his abs again. There had to be more than six there. Did he buy them in bulk at Costco? They went on forever. I said, “Nothing. Sorry to bother you,” and made for my door, stepping backwards.
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