Imperfectly Perfect

by A. E. Woodward

  "I don't know. Maybe because I'm pushing thirty? Maybe because I'm realizing that those are things that I do want...Christ! My life is great, but maybe I want a perfect life."

  I wanted to tell her she could have those things with me, and that it would be perfect. But I decided that may be a little too forward and I should probably wait and go with a more subtle approach.

  "So? You've never been one to not get what you want. If you want the house, the husband and the kids you know it's not too late. But you've got to cut the pity party crap. For one it's not your style, and secondly it's really annoying."

  She giggled and I couldn't help but laugh with her. Her laughter had always been infectious.

  "See, that is so much better Em. Now hang up and go have fun at that party. Don't forget to go visit my Mum tomorrow and I'll see you on Sunday when you get back."

  "Ok."

  "Ok. Later."

  "Shane..."

  "Yeah?"

  "Thanks."

  "No problem. Anytime."

  "I know...and Shane?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Goal."

  "You too Em, more than you know."

  I heard her sigh. "I suppose I should get back to the party now, but I'll call you later."

  "Sure thing."

  I hung up and wandered down into the living room where Tyler and Rob were perched, watching the sports channel. I'm not really sure what was on and it didn't really matter. I plopped myself onto the floor in front of our futon.

  Obviously my feelings were written all over my face. Rob glanced over at me with a concerned look on his face. "You alright there slugger?"

  I put my hand to my forehead and rubbed in an effort to kick-start my brain. Was I really sure that I was in love with Emma? Was it worth risking everything we had? I needed to at least tell Rob and Tyler what I was feeling, and then maybe they could help work me through it. I moved my hand from my forehead to my neck. I kept opening and closing my mouth, unsuccessfully trying to find the right words.

  Tyler seemed to sense my frustration, and decided to change the subject. "Have you talked to Emma lately?"

  Nice try Ty.

  I subtly nodded my head and sighed. "Yeah actually, I just hung up with her."

  "And. . ?" Rob pried.

  I decided to sleep on it before I broached the subject with the guys.

  "She's going through some pretty heavy stuff right now and she needed to talk things through with me."

  "So what the hell is your problem?" Rob questioned as Tyler intently followed our back and forth.

  "I dunno dude."

  "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  I sighed as I exhaled, "Might as well have."

  "Talking to Em..." I shook my head in an attempt to regain control of my thoughts.

  "You've just realized something haven't you?"

  My breath hitched at Rob's question. He was piecing things together quickly. One of the things that made him such a good lawyer was his ability to read between the lines.

  "I-I think so..." I muttered.

  Rob stood up and threw his hands in the air, "Fuck!"

  Guess I was busted. At least I wasn't going to have to say the words out loud.

  "Am I missing something here?" Tyler asked, turning the television off.

  "Tyler, you moron," Rob muttered, pacing the living room. "Shaney boy here has finally figured out that he loves Emma."

  Tyler rolled his eyes, obviously still not on the same page. "Well yeah, she is our best friend." Once the words left his mouth his eyes shot to me, then to Rob, and then back to me again. I watched his face transform from confusion to knowing in an instant. "Oh shit."

  I threw my head back onto the futon. "My sentiments exactly. This is really bad guys."

  Rob walked to the kitchen and grabbed three bottles of beer handing each of us one. "I've been waiting for this to happen."

  Tyler took a tentative swig from his bottle. "You have?"

  Rob seemed to be enjoying his so-called premonition, "Of course. Emma is just too awesome for none of us to fall for her. I'm just glad it wasn't me."

  Tyler nodded, seemingly understanding where Rob was coming from. He turned to me and placed his hand on my shoulder, "What are you going to do?"

  "I don't know," I managed to mutter, "but I'm open to suggestions?"

  I woke up in my twin bed with my hair stuck to my face. I attempted to stretch my muscles that were tight from sleeping in such a contorted way, but I was only greeted with Charlie horses. My mouth was sour and dry, and my head was pounding. Obviously my pity party had equated to a massive hangover. I wanted nothing more than to stay in my bed and sleep the day away, but I had a promise to keep.

  I carefully got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. Turning the shower on, I felt disgusting and pathetic. I stepped into the steamy water and lathered and scrubbed until my skin was red, yet when I was done I could still smell the Champagne seeping from my pores. I was running late so I sprayed myself with some perfume and called it good.

  I headed down to the kitchen looking to grab some fruit to eat in the car. Dad was already up sitting at the island reading the weekend paper.

  "Where are you headed this morning?" He asked, his eyes never diverting from the article he was reading.

  "Off for my visit with Ms. Strout," I said grabbing a banana from the counter.

  "Ah, send her our best."

  Even though he said to send 'our best', I knew it was really just his best. Mother did not care for Ms. Strout; she never had and probably never will. I think it was a class thing for her, and it absolutely disgusted me.

  "Will do Daddy," I kissed his forehead and was out the door.

  Normally I would have walked or ran the five miles, but since I was late (and hung-over) I decided to drive. A mere five minutes later I was pulling up to Shane's childhood home.

  Unlike my family home and all its grand perfection, this house was a modest, but cute two-bedroom ranch in the center of town. There were four other houses with similar floor plans next door. It had initially started out as a subdivision, but was never completed. The house sat unfinished for years until they put it on the market as it was. Ms. Strout scooped it up for a bargain, and finished it on her own while Shane was still a baby.

  Shane's father had never been around. When his mother had told him she was pregnant he beat feet out of state, never to be heard from again. My Dad had told me once, a few years back, that Shane's father had been a womanizer. Everyone in town knew that he was trouble. But poor Ms. Strout fell for his charms and ended up pregnant out of wedlock. So it had always been just her and Shane.

  She was a schoolteacher and money was tight. She had to be one of the most hard working and caring women I knew. She worked three jobs in order to be able to send Shane to NYU and help him through law school. He loved her more than anything in the world and now that he was on his own two feet he made sure she was taken care of. While she didn't always accept his help, he ensured that she never had to go without.

  Being the good son that he is, Shane obviously worries about her. He tries to visit a couple of times a year but he still felt like it wasn't often enough. So anytime Tyler or I make a trip home we make sure to visit Ms. Strout. It was really a win/win; she enjoys the company and Shane is able to check in on her without being too intrusive.

  Before I was even able to knock, she opened the door.

  "Shane said you would be stopping by this morning," she said, hugging me.

  She had obviously been waiting for me and I felt guilty. Shane would have a fit when he found out.

  "Sorry I'm late," I murmured, "the party didn't get over until real late last night"

  "Oh, that's understandable," she grabbed my hand. "Please come in."

  I stepped into the house and admired its sameness. In all the years I had known Shane, his house had never changed. Ms. Strout was busy with work, and it just wasn't something that was important to her. In my house on th
e other hand, decorating was a yearly occurrence.

  "Go ahead into the living room Emma," she urged. "I made something for you."

  I smiled, knowing exactly what would be waiting for me on her coffee table. The first time I had been to her house with Shane, she had made no-bake cookies. I was just a kid at the time and I ate three or four since they were the most delicious things I had ever tasted. I casually mentioned to her that my mother didn't bother to bake, so from then on she always made a point to make a batch when she knew I was going to be around.

  I grabbed a cookie and fell back onto the couch, still feeling the effects of my hangover. I closed my eyes while chewing, savoring every last bite.

  "So how's my boy?"

  I opened my eyes and sat up as Ms. Strout handed me a cup of coffee. She smiled casually as she sat down in her rocking chair.

  "He's good. Same old, same old."

  "Oh," she pressed her lips together in a nervous line, "I hope he's not working too hard."

  "He works hard, but he plays harder," I assured her.

  "And how are you dear?"

  Ah, there it was. The dreaded question.

  "Well, to be honest Ms Strout, things have been better," I admitted.

  Ms. Strout had been the one, and only, woman that I ever felt like I could talk to as a kid. She never judged, or pushed her views on me. Shane was a lot like her in that way. They were both great listeners, but Ms. Strout always gave the best advice, and right now that was something I needed.

  "Well," she probed, sipping her coffee, "tell me about it."

  I gave her the shortened, less dramatic, version of my dilemma. I made sure to emphasize that I really was happy with my life, but as I approached my thirtieth birthday I felt as though something was missing.

  "So, do you want my opinion?" she questioned.

  "Absolutely," I nodded.

  "Despite what your Mother might say, life isn't perfect, it's what you make it. My life isn't perfect, well according to lots of other people. I could have easily fallen apart when Shane's father abandoned us," she paused and reached toward me to rest her hand on my leg, "But I didn't because, as terrible as it was to think my baby boy would forever be without a father, I wanted Shane to have the best life possible with me."

  "So, you're saying I shouldn't worry about it."

  She shook her head. "Not necessarily. I think you need to look at what you already have."

  I was trying to follow her, but the champagne fog seemed to still be clouding my mind.

  "Shane said the same thing."

  "He's a smart boy," she smiled. "You have a great life in the city and you are surrounded by people who truly love you. That's more than most people will have in their lifetime. Besides," she continued, "you are still so young. Thirty is the new twenty, or so they say."

  I had to hand it to her. She was right, things could be worse. I had more in my life at that moment than lots of people. I had a job, a roof over my head, and most importantly my health. But call me greedy, I wanted more. Right there in Ms. Strout's house I made a plan, I was going to grab the bull by the horns and start searching for the missing piece to my perfect puzzle.

  I was ecstatic when the weekend was finally over, and it was time to head back to good old NYC. I can't even begin to explain to you how happy I was to be getting out of Maine and away from my family. I know that sounds terrible and I love my family-really I do-but in case you hadn't noticed, they have the tendency to be quite overbearing. I was emotionally drained. The bottom line is that there was a reason I left this place, and every time I came back I was reminded of exactly why I'm living in New York with the family I chose.

  It was no big surprise that after Liz's big news, all my family really put the pressure on me. I spent the remainder of my time at home diverting all the obvious questions,

  'So Emma, are you dating anyone special?'

  'Are you still living with those boys?'

  'Don't you think its time you started considering settling down?'

  At the airport, I took time to make sure I hugged Mom, Dad, and Liz while we said our goodbyes. I made plans for my next trip home, and promised I would visit when Liz had her baby in the spring. I may not be overly fond of my sister, but I was determined to be the best Auntie I could be and was going to spoil my niece/nephew every chance I got.

  So there I was, on the curb waving as they pulled away. It might sound horrible to say I felt relieved, but I did. Mostly because I knew that once I got home the boys wouldn't give a shit that I'm not married. I was also relieved because I actually knew what direction I wanted my life to head in. I had a plan. I needed to find me a man, and not just any man; I was going on the search for the perfect man.

  Everyone was supposed to have a soul mate right? We saw it in movies and books all the time. There was one person for everybody-I truly believed that-and surely it was only fair to think that there was that one person out there that had been created just for me. I just hoped he wasn't hiding. I had nine months before I turned thirty so I gave myself a deadline; I wanted to be headed in the direction of my 'happily ever after' by then. I had serious work to do.

  I could picture him easily. Tall, dark, and handsome, he would have the most wonderful smile, and piercing yet loving eyes. He would shower me with love, and place me on the pedestal that I deserved. Not only that but he would be a terrific father one day. I wanted to marry a man that would be the type of dad who took a vested interest in his children.

  On the airplane ride home I decided I needed to seriously consider the options a woman had to find a decent eligible bachelor in New York. Being the control freak that I was I decided to make a list of all the possible places and events I might find him.

  1. Work

  Probably not. I worked in the cruel hard world of advertising and most of the men at my office were complete slime balls. They were the type of guys who tended to talk to your chest rather than your face. I crossed this one out.

  2. Bars

  Upon further thinking, I decided this was probably another dead end. I'd already spent the last eight years of my life in bars and knew that single guys at bars are on the prowl. I should know because I had been too. Those men are not looking for a wife. The saying "why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free" popped into mind. Another scribble.

  3. The Boys' friends

  I wrote this down and immediately scratched it out. The guys' only friends are each other and me. They occasionally hung out with a few of their coworkers, but they were hardly friends. Plus there was always the chance that I could put them in an awkward position if anything were to go wrong in the relationship and I would never want to do that to them. Aaargh! This was proving to be harder than I thought it would be.

  4. Online

  Eh, this one sort of creeped me out. Anyone could pose as anybody, and that just didn't sit well with me. I heard about a girl in college who did this. Granted it was relatively new at the time but she got totally duped. The guy was supposedly this big hunky college jock but...well let's just say she was immensely disappointed when she finally did meet him. Online dating never turned out to be a good thing; I've watched the show Catfish, and they're never who they say they are.

  5. Speed Dating

  I hated that I even wrote this down. All I could picture were these hairy forty-year-old men who lived in their mother's basement, sitting at a table with me, talking about World of Warcraft. But-as bad as it sucked-it seems like my only viable option.

  Shit.

  I sucked back my rum and coke and contemplated my less than favorable options; it wasn't looking good. But call me crazy-or stupid-by the time the plane landed at JFK I was giddy with excitement because I had talked myself into the whole speed-dating thing. I had to or I knew I wouldn't actually go through with it. I was absolutely sure that I couldn't go alone, so I decided I was going to trick the guys into going with me. I knew that if I told them where I was going to take them that they would refuse. But I
also knew that ultimately they would enjoy themselves because we always had a hell of a time when we went anywhere together.

  I walked towards the carousel with my head on a swivel, looking for Tyler and Shane. I started speed walking when I spotted Shane next to the arrival/departure screens.

  "Hey you!" I shouted. I needed to tell him before I lost my nerve. "I came up with a fabulous plan on the plane!" Suddenly I realized something was out of place, so I paused and looked around, "Where's Tyler?" I asked.

  Shane awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets and fidgeted, "He, um, decided to not come."

  "Okay." That was weird. Tyler and Shane have always picked me up from the airport; it was a tradition of sorts. All through high school they had given me rides to wherever I needed to be. Even as adults they continued being my escorts; this included giving me rides home whenever I returned from a trip. Up to now, Tyler had never missed a pickup.

  Shane removed his hand from his pocket and rubbed his temples. "So are you feeling any better?" he asked.

  I shifted my weight. "Yeah I guess. I don't really want to talk about it right now though, okay." I forced a smile and handed Shane my bag.

  "Okay", he muttered. His eyes met mine and I couldn't help but notice how bloodshot they were. He must have had a rough night out with the guys. It was Sunday and I have only ever seen his eyes like that when he was spending his day in one of his 'sleepless hangovers'. That would also explain why Tyler hadn't come. He must have been too hungover to make the trip to the airport.

  "Rough one last night?" I questioned as we walked towards the parking garage.

  "Huh?"

  "Your eyes, they're all red. So it must've been a good one last night huh?" I questioned him again.

  "Oh that," he rubbed his eyes, as if rubbing them would help make the redness go away. "Nah, I've been a little stressed that's all."

  "Work?"

  "Not particularly."

  He was being so cagey and very 'un-Shane' like. I stopped in my tracks. "What's up Shane?"