Slim Chance

by Jackie Rose

  Morgan had always planned for a career instead of babies, so this was all shaping up quite nicely for her, and ahead of schedule, too.

  I wrote back,

  >>that’s fantastic, morgan. you deserve it. and you thought you’d be 30 before you’d make any serious coin. good job. just one thing—by years of hard work, do you mean all those long nights you spent slaving over a hot boss?

  >>funny, evie. if i had the time, I’d laugh. but I’m too busy counting my soon-to-be-hatched chickens—there are many details to be worked out, you know, such as having my hot young male assistant file the paperwork for my corporate platinum credit card, and deciding whether or not the desk should face the window in my ginormous new office. ahh, such are the perks of the corporate courtesan….

  I had to hand it to her. She really knew how to get the most out of every situation.

  >>poor peter. I suppose he’ll have to find a new eager young associate to break in.

  >>actually, he’s a senior veep, so i will still have occasion to work under him from time to time. besides, I’m sure he will want to monitor the progress of his most recently promoted protegee.

  Of course, Morgan was much smarter than that. She knew how to keep her eye on the prize.

  >>you vamp—he’s the one that needs protection! congrats, congrats!

  >>thanks, dear. great party, by the way. were you too fabulous to say goodbye to your guests?

  Of course, I’d been too humiliated to call and tell Morgan, or anyone for that matter, what had happened on Saturday. I think Bertie just told everyone I had a headache and was lying down. Thankfully, I later decided to impress anyone who eventually discovered my shameful secret with my cool and laid-back attitude toward the whole catastrophe. My ability to brush off even the most horrific of family tragedies would be legendary; publicly at least, I would soldier on, breaking through my checkered past to emerge triumphant on the other side. There was a lot of room for sympathy here, after all. For not only was I posthumously produced, but I was, technically speaking, a love child as well.

  >>long story short—drunkle roderick spilled the beans on a most intimate family secret: turns out my daddy never actually married my mommy. illegitimately yours, evelyn mays.

  It took her a few minutes to respond.

  >>seriously?

  >>seriously.

  >>whoa, that’s heavy shit, evelyn.

  >>no big deal, really. I always knew my mother was a wh—

  “Wow, Evie!” someone whispered incredulously from behind me.

  I spun around in my chair. Andrea, that hag, was standing over my shoulder, her mouth agape.

  “How dare you spy on my own private affairs?” I hissed as quietly as possible.

  “Interesting choice of words. Seems you’re not the only one with private affairs!” she giggled.

  From somewhere within the dark recesses of my mind, Bruce’s sensible voice called out, You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

  “Andrea,” I started. “Please…”

  She put her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t breathe a word. We all have our crosses to bear, though for some of us those crosses are larger and more humiliating than others,” she said simply, and skipped off.

  Shit, shit, shit. Now she had something on me, and I knew she’d never let me forget it. I could hear Bruce’s voice speaking to me once again, only this time he was saying, What goes around comes around. I guess I deserved it—Andrea had apparently caught a blast of crap from her boss about personal phone time the day I had her calls rerouted.

  >>evie? you there? i’ll try and call you later, but i’ll be working late.

  >>i hate this place morgan. do you need another assistant? please help—

  “Evelyn!” Pruscilla shrieked from her office. “Come in here immediately.”

  I sighed and shut off the screen. What the hell did she want now?

  Her face was purple with anger. “You call this a report? All you had to do was proof it and check the numbers. It’s full of mistakes.”

  “I must have given you the wrong version,” I mumbled. “Sorry about that.” There was no satisfying this woman. I once thought her bitterness was a byproduct of her unfortunate physique. But now I could see that her still formidable (albeit shrinking) girth had absolutely nothing to do with her sour disposition. She was mean as a snake from the inside out.

  “Do you have any idea how much heck I would have caught if it went out like this? Thanks heavens I had the sense to look it over. What an embarrassment. This is it, Evelyn. It’s going to take more than just showing up on time. One more goof-up…” Her eyes glowed red.

  Anger and courage swelled up uncontrollably from someplace deep within me. “Well, I certainly would hate for you to catch any heck on my account,” I snapped. “You were obviously right not to trust me. I told you, it was a MISTAKE! We all make them.”

  She shook a chubby, fuschia-tipped finger at me. “Just so long as you understand that it was the second-to-last mistake you’re ever going to make here, if you catch my drift. And I’ll choose to ignore your tone because it’s obvious you’re not thinking clearly right now. Just have the right report on my desk within the hour.”

  My stomach churned. That was the right report. I had to get out of this place.

  Working out was my salvation. One month after the party, I’d lost another eight pounds, for a grand total of twenty-one pounds gone forever. The only thing that sucked was that I was scared to tell Bruce—I knew he’d think I was losing too much, too fast. He was probably right, but I hadn’t weighed under 150 pounds since high school, and seeing that thingy on the scale slide to the left instead of the right every week was undeniably intoxicating. It was easy, for the most part, since I was going to the gym almost every day. As a concession to Bruce and our financial situation, I did agree not to exceed three times a week with Jade.

  But being the great guy he is, Jade always made sure to offer his support pro bono whenever I was there. When I broke the twenty-pound mark, I think he was almost as happy as I was.

  “Amazing,” he said as he marked my weight on my chart. “You should be our poster child. Maybe we’ll put you in the brochure next year…like a ‘before and after’ shot, you know?”

  “Well, you make me look forward to stepping on the scale, which is something I never thought I’d be able to say.”

  He smiled and I could swear I saw his cheeks turn pink. I instantly realized that I love a man who blushes.

  “Well, you did it all by yourself. I can only take credit for opening your eyes to the joys of physical fitness. Actually coming here every day is up to you.”

  “And not eating like a pig, too,” I reminded him.

  He laughed. “And not eating like a pig. Just promise me you’re not starving yourself.”

  “I’m not, I’m not.”

  The handful of Cheerios I’d had for lunch—sitting like a brick in my tummy—reminded me of that. So what if my stomach grumbled in protest on occasion? It would just be for a little while, until I could fit into The Dress. That would make it all worth it. Of course, Jade was so encouraging that it made me want to keep going, but if it weren’t for the thought of that dress, wrapped in plastic in the back of Mom’s closet, I’m not sure I’d have the will to go on. It was sick, actually, but I couldn’t help it. Imagining myself fitting into that dress was more addictive than any drug could ever be, and far more enticing.

  Jade was turning out to be the upside of my dark little obsession, and I admit that the short-term boost of seeing him was enough to get me back in there, day after day. Spending so many hours with a person in such an intimate way really lets you get to know them quickly, and I don’t think it was a stretch to say that Jade and I were becoming quite close. We had plenty in common, so why not? I knew we could probably even be really good friends outside the gym, too, although Morgan thought that was absolutely ridiculous and that I really just had a whopping crush on him.


  “You’re getting married in six months, you’re not talking to your mother, your job sucks and your trainer is gorgeous,” she’d said. “Hmm…do you think it’s true love?”

  “I’m not that much of an imbecile,” I reminded her. “And it’s not love, because it’s not even like. It’s just that we seem to have a lot to talk about. And he thinks I’m funny.”

  “Sure he does,” she said. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he makes a living off boosting the egos of chubby rich girls. I’m not saying he doesn’t genuinely like you. Maybe he does. It’s just that even if he didn’t, he’d make sure you thought he did. Remind me, what did you say he did again? I mean, when he’s not working you out?”

  “He’s an actor,” I said defensively. “Where are you going with this?”

  “Ah, an actor. And a good one, too, it seems.”

  “Oh, shut up, Morgan,” I laughed. “You’re just jealous.”

  “Of what? I’ve been there, Evie, and I’ve done that. You’ll remember that I’ve had two of my trainers for lunch. On the whole, they’re tasty, but not all that smart, unless you count an instinctual understanding of what a woman wants to hear.”

  Morgan believes that my overwhelming success at losing weight validates Jade’s daily existence, so he can’t help but become personally involved in my life, which is what accounts for anything beyond financially motivated pleasantness. It’s not that what Morgan was saying had never occurred to me—it had. But I’m also a pretty good judge of character, and I know when I’m being taken for a ride. At the very least, Jade doesn’t despise me or anything like that. I’d know it if he did. We never have a hard time making conversation, and he’s told me all about his life and I’ve told him all about mine. But even if it’s not real friendship, I’ll take it, whatever it is—the anticipation of hanging out with a gorgeous, fantastic guy at the end of a hard day’s work makes it all worthwhile.

  “Evie?”

  “Hi, Claire. If you’re calling to bother me about Mom, I’m hanging up.”

  “Wait—give me a second. I want to say my piece.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Go ahead.”

  “It’s been over a month since the party, and I think that’s more than enough time for you to have absorbed the information. This is no great tragedy, Evie, and I think you’re old enough to understand that. Your mother is very upset, I’ll have you know, and I think she’s suffered plenty already.”

  “Actually, I’m still not quite sure about that.” The thought of Mom being upset and guilt-ridden was an interesting reversal. I had to admit, it was strangely liberating.

  “Forgiving someone is a gift you give yourself. It will lighten your heart, and I know you need that right now, Evelyn,” Claire said quietly.

  It wasn’t like her to get all serious. “Are you going Christian on me, Claire?”

  “Just call her, please. Put this nonsense to rest.”

  “I just don’t know if I’m ready to speak to her yet,” I said.

  Bruce, who was reading in the bathtub—an irritating habit of his which had ruined countless perfectly good magazines and books—had been listening to the conversation, and called out, “Call her, already! You know you want to!”

  “Shut up, please!” I yelled back.

  But I suppose enough was enough. My curiosity was starting to get the better of me, anyway, and I had a lot of questions I needed resolved about the whole thing. “Fine, Claire,” I said into the receiver. “I’ll talk to her. But you call her and tell her. I’m not calling first.”

  “Hallelujah!” Bruce jumped up out of the tub and ran into the kitchen, stark naked and dripping wet, waving his hands in the air. “Hallelujah!” he yelled again. For some reason, he’s always labored under the misconception that random nudity is good for a laugh.

  We agreed to a meeting on neutral territory, in public, so that Mom wouldn’t be able to make a scene. I still anticipated problems, though, so Bruce, whose fairness and objectivity no one could fault, agreed to come along as a mediator. Despite his earlier insistence on seeing things from their side, I was now pretty sure he was sympathetic to my position (Cosmopolitan, January: “Quiz of the Month: Do His Loyalties Lie with You?”).

  When we walked into the restaurant, they were already there. Mom smiled.

  “Hello, Claire,” I said coolly.

  Bruce rolled his eyes and said to no one in particular, “It’s gonna be a long night.”

  I took off my coat and sat down.

  “Evelyn,” Mom gasped. “You’re so thin.”

  Bruce looked at me hopefully as if to say, “See? She wants to make nice.”

  “Well, I’ve lost a few pounds,” I conceded.

  “Fifteen, to be exact!” Bruce added.

  “More than that, I’d say,” she said. “I don’t remember the last time you looked this good.”

  “Oh, she looked beautiful before,” Claire added, and turned to me. “But I’m happy if you’re happy. Maybe we could go shopping for some new things.”

  “I would like that very much,” I said. Good of her to make a peace offering, too. After all, she was far from innocent in this whole debacle.

  “Shall we order?” Bruce asked. He was always hungry. Sometimes I think he has a tapeworm of some sort.

  “Let’s have a drink first,” Mom said, and ordered a Bloody Mary.

  “I’ll have one, too,” I said to the waiter. “With extra celery.”

  “So?” I said.

  “So,” Mom said, and breathed out slowly.

  Bruce tried to break the uncomfortable silence with small talk about his job and the New York Rangers, but for once, nobody was very interested in what he had to say. By the end of the meal, and a few drinks later, things loosened up a little.

  “I was right, you know, about Lucia,” Mom slurred.

  “Right about what?” I asked.

  “She didn’t come here just for your party. She was here to help my father with some things. Business things,” she said cryptically.

  No one took the bait, so she added, “The city is threatening to take away his house because he hasn’t paid his property taxes in four years.”

  “Well, well, well,” I sighed. “Once again, Mom, you were right. And we know you just have to be right. God forbid my aunt should come to my engagement because she actually loves me, and was happy for me. So thanks for clearing things up.”

  “This isn’t what we’re here to talk about,” Bruce interjected.

  “Yes, forget about that, Lillian,” Claire said. “Why don’t you tell Evie what you wanted to tell her.”

  “What I wanted to tell her?” Mom asked, feigning confusion.

  I turned to Bruce. “I don’t know why I’m here. She’s only going to make me crazy.”

  “Didn’t you tell me you wanted to apologize?” Claire said gently.

  Mom sighed, and thought for a minute.

  “It’s like pulling teeth,” I muttered. “Why can’t you just say it?”

  “Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough?” she said. “My own father hasn’t spoken to me in twenty-seven years because of this.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me—the real reason he hated her.

  “I knew I was pregnant when your dad died,” she continued. “But I never got the chance to tell him. I was waiting for Christmas morning. God, maybe he wouldn’t have been up there that day if he knew. You think you have all the time in the world….” she stared into her glass for a bit, then continued. “Anyway, after he…the accident…I told my parents… My dad disowned me, said it was my fault Andrew died, that God was punishing me for being a tramp. He wouldn’t even let my mother come to the funeral.”

  A lump throbbed bigger and bigger in my throat. “That’s awful,” I managed.

  “It’s true,” said Claire.

  Tears welled up in Mom’s eyes. “So I am sorry,” she blurted. “I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, about your father a
nd me. I’m sorry I didn’t marry him when I had the chance, when he asked me to. I’m sorry my father was right about everything. I’m sorry I spoiled you for so many years and always let you get your way. I’m sorry I wanted you to stay here with me and not go away to school. And I’m sorry you hate me so much, Evelyn. I’m most sorry about that. I’m sorry you hate me so much. But I’m not sorry that I want you to have what I missed out on, what was taken from me, from us. And I’m not sorry if I do everything in my power to make you realize that so you don’t end up like me. No, I’m not sorry about that at all.”

  Stunned silence. We all just stared. Her chest heaved in and out as if she’d just run a marathon.

  A waiter approached her from behind. “Would you like another drink, ma’am,” he asked. Startled, she practically fell off her chair.

  “Get away from her,” I snapped.

  Mom got up to leave the table.

  “Don’t go, Mom. Sit down,” I said. Bruce grabbed her hand. She sat down. Never had I seen her so vulnerable, so pathetic. It was awful. What was the fun in kicking someone when they were down? That’s not what we were about.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I said. “Not as sorry as you, though.” I thought a little comic relief might do some good, but no one laughed. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” I continued. Claire nodded at me. “And I know you thought you were protecting me. From what I don’t know, but I do believe you tried to do the right thing. I was just mad because you were the one who was always so obsessed with me getting married, and then this, and I thought it was so hypocritical. But I can see that it wasn’t.”

  She grabbed my hand. “Thank you, Evelyn.”

  I squeezed it back.

  Bruce motioned to the waiter. “We’re feeling much better here, and I think we’re ready for some dessert. Mom, do you want some desert?”