Princess Mia
Page 9
And then Lana explained that when, at age thirteen, she grew too heavy and long-legged for tiny Bubbles to carry her, her parents sold her beloved pony without telling her, thinking a swift and thorough break, with no time for goodbyes, would be less emotionally traumatic.
“They were wrong,” Lana said, handing over her credit card to the salesgirl to pay for her charges. “I don’t think I ever got over it. I still miss that fat-assed little horse.”
Which. You know. Harsh. At least Grandmère’s never done THAT to me.
Anyway, I guess I should get back to our table. We’re treating ourselves to a ladies-who-lunch-smorgasbord…the Nobu chef’s special. It’s “only” a hundred dollars per person.
But Trisha says we’re worth it. And besides which it’s almost all protein, being raw fish.
Of course, Lana and Trisha just have to pay for themselves. I have to pay for Lars, too. And he’s having a steak, because he says raw fish saps his man strength.
Saturday, September 18, 6 p.m., limo on the way to Tina’s
When I walked into the loft after shopping Mom was already mad. That’s because I had Bendel’s concierge service deliver (and also Saks, where we stopped later to pick up some boots and shoes) my shopping bags so I didn’t have to carry them around all day, and they were stacked so high in my room that Fat Louie couldn’t get around them to get to his litter box in my bathroom.
“HOW MUCH DID YOU SPEND?” Mom wanted to know. Her eyes were all crazy.
It’s true, there WERE a lot of bags. Rocky had been having a good time ramming the lowest tier with his trucks, trying to make them all fall down. Fortunately, it’s hard to damage lycra.
“Relax,” I said. “I used that black American Express card Dad gave me.”
“THAT CREDIT CARD IS FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY!” Mom practically screamed.
“Hello,” I said. “You don’t think my NEW SIZE THIRTY-SIX C BOOBS count as an emergency?”
So then Mom’s lips got all tight and she went, “I don’t think Lana Weinberger is a good influence on you. I’m calling your father,” and off she stomped.
Parents. Seriously. First they get on my case because I won’t get out of bed or do anything. Then I do what they want, and get out of bed and socialize, and they get mad about THAT too.
You can’t win.
While Mom was off ratting me out to Dad (and whatever, okay, I did spend a lot, way more than Lana. But except for ball gowns and the occasional pair of overalls, I haven’t bought clothes in, like, three years, so they need to get over it), I started stuffing my old, nonfitting clothes into trash bags to take to Goodwill, and hanging up my new, totally stylish clothes, plus packing for going to Tina’s tonight.
Which I was kind of surprised to find I was looking forward to doing. Lana and Trisha had invited me to some party they were going to at an Upper West Side apartment, given by a senior whose parents were working on their chi at a spa for the weekend. But I told them I already had other plans.
“Launching a new yacht, or something?” Lana asked all sarcastically.
Only by now I knew not to take every little thing she said so literally and straight to heart. Most of the time when she makes her little barbs, she’s just trying to be funny. Even if the only person her remark is funny to is herself. In fact, Lana’s a lot like Lilly in that way.
“No, just hanging out with Tina Hakim Baba,” I said, and left it at that. And neither of them seemed offended that I was blowing off the “party of the semester” to be with a non–It Crowd member.
I was just stuffing my toothbrush into my overnight case when my mom walked in and held out the phone to me.
“Your father wants to speak to you,” she said, looking smug, and then turned around and walked out.
Seriously. I love my mom and all. But she can’t have it both ways. She can’t raise me to be a socially conscious rebel and then get worried when the weight of my depression about the world oppresses me to the point that I can no longer get out of bed, send me to therapy, then freak out when I follow that therapist’s advice. She just can’t.
And, okay, Dr. K didn’t actually TELL me to spend that much on underwear. But whatever.
“I’m not taking any of it back,” I say to my dad.
“I’m not asking you to,” he said.
“Do you know how much I spent?” I asked suspiciously.
“I do. The credit card company already called me. They thought the card had been stolen and some teenage girl was on a spending spree. Since you’ve never spent that much before.”
“Oh,” I said. “Then what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Nothing. I just have to make it seem like I’m yelling at you. You know how your mother is. She’s from the Midwest. She can’t help it. If it costs more than twenty dollars, she breaks out in hives. She’s always been that way.”
“Oh,” I said. Then I added, “But, Dad. It’s not fair!”
“What’s not fair?” he wanted to know.
“Nothing,” I said, lowering my voice. “I’m just pretending like you’re yelling at me.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding impressed. “Good job. Oh, no.”
“Oh, no, what?”
“Your grandmother just walked in.” Dad sounded tense. “She wants to talk to you.”
“About how much I spent?” I was surprised. To Grandmère, the amount I paid today at Bendel’s equals only a small fraction of what she spends every week on hair and beauty treatments alone.
“Uh, not exactly,” Dad said.
And the next thing I knew, Grandmère was breathing into the phone.
“Amelia,” she snapped. “What is this your father tells me about our princess lessons being canceled for the foreseeable future because you have some kind of personal crisis you need to work out?”
“Mother,” I heard Dad yelping in the background. “That is not what I said!”
I knew exactly what was going on. Dad had been trying to get me out of princess lessons with Grandmère without telling Grandmère WHY I needed to miss princess lessons—in other words, without telling her I’m in therapy. With a cowboy psychologist.
“Quiet, Phillipe,” Grandmère snapped. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” To me, she said, “Amelia, this isn’t like you. Falling apart because of That Boy? Have I taught you NOTHING? A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle! And whatnot. Pull yourself together!”
“Grandmère,” I said wearily. “It’s not—It’s not JUST because of Michael, okay? Things are kind of stressful for me right now. You know I missed a bunch of school this week, I have tons of work to make up, so if it’s okay, I’d really like to take a raincheck on princess lessons until—”
“WHAT ABOUT DOMINA REI?” Grandmère shrieked.
“What about it?” I asked.
“We have to start working on your speech!”
“Grandmère, about that, I just don’t know if I—”
“You are giving this speech, Amelia,” Grandmère barked, “and that’s final. I already told them you would. And I already BRAGGED about it to the Contessa! Now, tomorrow afternoon, you are meeting me at the Genovian Embassy, and together, we shall pore over the royal archives for some kind of material that will hopefully inspire your speech. Is that understood?”
“But, Grandmère—”
“Tomorrow. The embassy. Two o’clock.”
Click!
Well. I guess she told me.
And I guess my dream of spending all day Sunday in bed has been crushed.
Mom just poked her head in here. She seems to have gotten over her rage about my spendaholism. She was chewing her lower lip and going, “Mia, I’m sorry. But I had to do it. Do you realize you spent almost as much as the gross national product of a small developing nation…only you spent it on low-rise jeans?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to look sorry. Which wasn’t hard, because I am sorry.
Sorry I never bought jeans like that before. Because I look
HOT in them.
Besides, what Mom doesn’t know—Dad either, yet—is that while Lana and Trisha and I were eating, I called Amnesty International and donated the exact amount I spent at Bendel’s, using the emergency black AmEx.
So I don’t even feel guilty. That much.
“I know things are bad right now with Michael, and with you and Lilly,” Mom went on. “And I’m glad you’re trying to make new friends. I’m just not sure Lana Weinberger is the RIGHT friend for you….”
“She’s not that bad, Mom,” I said, thinking of the pony thing. And also the other thing Lana told me over lunch. Which is that her mom told her that if she doesn’t get into an Ivy League college, she’s not going to pay for her to go to college ANYWHERE. Talk about harsh.
“And it’s so unfair,” Lana had said. “Because it’s not like I’m smart, like you are, Mia.”
I’d nearly choked on my wasabi at that one. “Me? Smart?”
“Yeah,” Trisha had added. “AND you’re a princess, which means you’re going to get in everywhere you apply no matter what. Because everyone wants royalty at their school.”
Ouch. Also true.
“Well, Mia,” Mom said, looking dubious—I guess about my remark that Lana Weinberger is not that bad. “I’m happy you’re keeping an open mind and are a little more willing to try new things than you’ve been in the past”—I don’t even know what she could mean by that, unless she’s talking about meat and its by-products—“but remember the Girl Scout rule.”
“You mean that in a good bra, your nipple should fall exactly midway between your shoulder and elbow?”
“Um,” Mom said, looking long-suffering. “No. I meant ‘Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.’”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, right. Don’t worry. I’m going to spend the night at Tina’s now. See ya.”
Then I got out of there. And none too soon, either, because I was really afraid she was going to notice my chandelier earrings, which cost as much as Rocky’s stroller.
Saturday, September 18, 9 p.m., Tina Hakim Baba’s bathroom
I’m really glad I agreed to spend the night at Tina’s. Even though I am still pretty much morbidly depressed, Tina’s house is my third favorite place to be (the first being Michael’s arms, of course, and the second being my bed).
So being at Tina’s isn’t at all excruciating, like being at, say, Bendel’s during a lingerie trunk show.
Although I’ve still told Tina nothing of my current emotional state—like, that I feel as if I’m at the bottom of a hole and can’t find my way out, etc.—she has been more than supportive about my fashion transformation, complimenting my earrings, telling me that my butt looks really good in my new jeans, and even asking me if I’d LOST weight…not gained it!
That, of course, is the result of a fantastically supportive—and also a little bit padded, for extra nipple-erection camouflage—well-fitted bra.
The first thing we did (after we ordered two pepperoni pizzas with extra cheese and ate them) was change all the clocks so that her siblings thought it was bedtime, then put them to bed, ignoring their plaintive protests that they were not tired. They wept themselves to sleep soon enough.
Then we broke out the DVDs and got to work. Tina has composed the following flowchart so we can keep track of Drew Barrymore’s body of work, which, as Tina insists, is important, because one day Drew will be a star along the lines of a Meryl Streep or Dame Judi Dench, and we’ll want to be able to discourse knowledgeably about her oeuvre.
Drew Barrymore:
The Important Works
Curious George
Tina: I never saw this.
Mia: Whatever, it’s for babies!
0 out of 5 gold Drews
Fever Pitch
Tina: Excellent, classic Drew. Plays well off romantic lead, Jimmy Fallon.
Mia: Too much stuff about baseball.
Tina: Well, that’s kind of the point.
3 out of 5 gold Drews
50 First Dates
Tina: Never quite reaches the comic pitch of The Wedding Singer, the last film in which Drew was paired with Adam Sandler.
Mia: Still, funny.
3 out of 5 gold Drews
Duplex
Tina: It pains me that Drew was in this movie.
Mia: I know. It hurts me deep inside. Still, she’s Drew, so…
1 out of 5 gold Drews
Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle
Tina: Awesome, butt-kicking Drew!
Mia: Not sure what all the hand-holding with Lucy Liu and Cameron was about during the press junkets for this film.
Tina: Right. Who holds hands with their girlfriends?
Mia: Except Spencer and Ashley on South of Nowhere, of course. But they’re dating.
Tina: Which is totally different.
Mia: Still.
5 out of 5 gold Drews
Confessions of a Dangerous Mind
Tina: My parents wouldn’t let me see this movie. It was rated R.
Mia: I didn’t WANT to see this movie. It has old people in it. But she’s Drew, so…
1 out of 5 gold Drews
Riding in Cars with Boys
Tina: Did you see this movie?
Mia: No. I never heard of it.
Tina: But it was probably good.
Mia: If Drew was in it, of course.
1 out of 5 gold Drews
Never Been Kissed
Tina: SO AWESOME!!! DREW IS SO CUTE IN THIS!!!
Mia: I know! She’s a reporter AND a high school student!!! She should have to play a high school student in EVERY MOVIE SHE’S IN.
5 out of 5 gold Drews
Home Fries
Tina: I don’t remember this movie except that she had curly hair.
Mia: Wasn’t she pregnant or something? Tina: So the curls definitely weren’t a perm. Because that could hurt the baby.
Mia: The curls were cute, so let’s give it a high score.
4 out of 5 gold Drews
Donnie Darko
Tina: Wait—Drew was in this movie?
Mia: I totally don’t remember her. All I remember was Jake.
Tina: I know. He was so hot in this.
Mia: Let’s give it a high score for Jake.
Tina: Totally. And my parents won’t let me see Brokeback or Jarhead.
5 out of 5 gold Drews
Ever After
Tina: Best movie ever.
Mia: Agreed. When she carries the prince—
Tina: Shut up!!! I LOVE THAT PART!!!!
Mia: Just—
Tina:—breathe! EEEEE!
5,000,000 out of 5 gold Drews
The Wedding Singer
Tina: Drew looks so cute in her waitress outfit.
Mia: I know! And when he sings that bad song—Tina:—
she’s still nice to him.
5 out of 5 gold Drews
Bad Girls
Tina: This movie is so bad it’s kind of good.
Mia: I know. But I think when Drew is captured and they tie her to the bed and she’s facedown—
Tina: It’s called Turkish style.
Mia: Whoever says romance novels aren’t educational is a liar.
4 out of 5 gold Drews
The Amy Fisher Story
Tina: The made-for-TV movie! And Drew plays a homicidal Long Island teen!
Mia: Brilliantly, I might add.
5 out of 5 gold Drews
Irreconcilable Differences
Tina: A very young Drew in a very cute role!
Mia: Love it. Love her.
4 out of 5 gold Drews
Firestarter
Tina: I know you love this movie, so I’m not going to say anything.
Mia: Shut up! How can you not like it? She’s so good!
Tina: She’s extraordinary for her age. It’s just…the story is so silly!
Mia: People can totally start fires with their minds if they’re emotional enough. Look what you ke
ep saying about J.P.
Tina: True.
4 out of 5 gold Drews
E.T.
Tina: She’s so cute in this!
Mia: And such a good actress. It’s like she’s ad-libbing her lines, they come so naturally.
Tina: Face it. Drew’s a genius. I wish she’d get her own talk show.
Mia: I wish she’d run for president.
Tina: President Barrymore! YEAH!!!!
5 out of 5 gold Drews
We are taking a break now between The Wedding Singer and Ever After while Tina makes popcorn. During the boring non-Drew parts of The Wedding Singer Tina asked me if I’d heard anything from Michael, so I told her about his e-mail, and she was rightfully indignant on my behalf. I mean, that Michael would try to pretend like we were just friends and tell me about his egg-sandwich-finding hardships and not tell me instead how much he misses me or how much he wishes we could get back together.
But then I pointed out to Tina that I’d agreed to just be friends. Also that the whole thing was my fault in the first place for blowing up over the Judith Gershner Affair, instead of playing it cool, the way Drew would have.
Which Tina was forced to concede was true. She also agreed that it was good I hadn’t written back.
“Because you don’t want to seem like you’re sitting around at home with nothing better to do than answer e-mails from your ex-boyfriends,” she said.
Even if that’s actually true.
Although it’s not really. I feel kind of guilty not telling Tina about how I spent my day—you know, with Lana and Trisha. I don’t know why. I mean, Grandmère has pointed out a million times that it’s totally rude to tell someone about an outing on which you went but to which they were not themselves invited. So there’s no reason I SHOULD tell Tina about Lana and Trisha.
Still. It was LANA.
I—
What’s THAT? I think I just heard Tina’s doorman buzz up that there’s someone in the lobby—