Perfect (12 page)

ON SATURDAY MORNING Ashley and I went to Jessie's Place, this diner in her neighborhood. "I'm starving,"
Ashley said. "I could eat one of everything."

"I know," I said, even though my stomach was still
churning. When I stay over at Ashley's all we do is eat.
Last night her parents were gone again, so we ate half the
kitchen.

"I hope they have chocolate chip pancakes today,"
Ashley said. "Sometimes they run out."

"I've never had chocolate chip pancakes," I said. "Only blueberry."

"Chocolate chip are way better. Trust me. Sweet and
salty at the same time."

The waitress, bleached blonde and skinny, stopped at
our table. She handed us waters and menus and took our
drink orders: two large hot chocolates and two large OJ's.
Then she moved on to the next booth.

Ashley looked at her menu for about two seconds.
"Want to get chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs,
and a Belgian waffle, and split?

"Yeah," I said. "And a corn muffin."

"Yeah."

It's funny. When we first started hanging out I didn't
want Ashley to think I was a pig, so I was careful not to eat
too much in front of her. I ate, just not as much as I would
eat alone. Now, I don't even think about it. I eat whatever
I want and so does she.

Ashley took a sip of water, settled hack in the booth.

"So," she said, running one finger along the ring of her
glass. "I'm going to Colorado over winter break."

"Really?" I said. "Colorado?"

"Yeah. Aspen. My family takes a ski trip to a different
place every year. Last year it was Jackson Hole. I skied
black diamonds with my dad and brothers the whole time
and didn't wipe out once."

"Good for you," I said. I have never skied before, so I
didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah," said Ashley.

"What about your mom?"

"Oh, she hates to ski," said Ashley. "She spends all day
at the spa. Or shops in the ski shop for stuff we don't need. She doesn't like to spend any more time with my dad than
she has to."

"Yeah," I said. As if I knew exactly what she was talking about.

"What are you doing?"

"What? For winter break?"

Ashley nodded.

I took a swallow of water, put down my glass. "I don't
know yet."

I did a little imaginative run-through in my head: me
and Mom and April sitting around the kitchen table for
two weeks straight, trying not to look at Daddy's chair.
Everyone else is opening presents and hugging and playing
in the snow, but there we are. Staring at a chair. Stuck.

We used to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah.
Christmas for Mom, Hanukkah for Daddy. The best of
both holidays: tree, menorah, presents, candles, turkey,
latkes. Now we just do Christmas. But not really. I mean,
we don't jump up and down for joy or anything. Because,
what's to celebrate?

I took another sip of water and looked up to see Ashley
staring at me.

"What?" I said. I hate when people stare at me.

"Nothing. You just looked sad or something."

I thought about telling Ashley the truth. I imagined
the look on her face when I said, You'd be sad too if you
didn't have a dad. But I couldn't get the words out. "I'm not
sad," I said. "I'm hungry."

"Yeah. Me too. Starved."

When the food came, it had a greasy sheen. You could
tell by looking at it that the butter would melt onto your tongue and the syrup would slide like a sweet river down
your throat.

Here we were, just two girls with lovely manners, sharing a meal.

"Could you please pass me a napkin?" I said.

"More salt?" asked Ashley. "Ketchup for your eggs?"

Before you knew it, we were both using our hands.
Mopping, shoveling, stuffing. We must have finished
everything in about sixty seconds. A record.

In back of the diner, we stood on crates and threw up next
to each other into a dumpster.

When we were finished, Ashley wiped her mouth on
the sleeve of her white turtleneck. "So. What do you want
to do today?"

"I don't know," I said.

"We could go to the mall."

"True." I thought about what Nola and Georgie would
be doing today. Going to the aquarium with their mothers, probably. For the millionth time. Or the stupid science
museum.

I smiled at Ashley. "Let me go call my mom."

We walked down the block to the payphone. It was the
kind with a door, so Ashley waited outside while I called.

"Lee residence," a woman's voice answered, surprising
me.

"Aunt Weezy?"

"Isabelle? Is that you?"

"Yeah. What are you doing there?"

"Just a visit. I had to return some sofa cushions at Lowmans, so I thought I'd stop by and see my favorite girls."

She always calls us that: me, Mom, and April. Her
favorite girls. I wonder what that makes Nini.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Aunt Weezy asked.

"Fine."

"Everything okay at school?"

"Yeah."

"At home?"

"Uh-huh."

Aunt Weezy lowered her voice. "And what about your
mom? How do you think she's doing?"

For that one, I just let the little robot in me answer.
"Fine," I said. "Everything's fine. So is she there, illy
1110111 ?"

"In the shower, sweetie. I'm taking her out to lunch.
And your sister. And you, if you're interested."

I told her no, that's why I was calling. I was on my way
to the mall with my friend Ashley. Could she please ask
my mother to pick me up in front of the movie theater, at
say four?

"Is Ashley's mother going with you?" Aunt Weezy
asked.

"Yeah," I said. As if she'd ever know the difference.

Weezy said all right. She'd tell my mom to pick me up
at four.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're welcome," she said. "And, Isabelle?"

"Yeah?"

"Have a good time."

I hung up the phone and gave Ashley the thumbs-up
sign. I was glad to get off the phone with Aunt Weezy. She
asks too many questions.

Ashley walked the aisles of Lord & Taylor while I followed.
We stopped at the one of the fragrance counters and tried
on perfume. Ashley held up a bottle of something. "Hold
out your wrist," she said, so I did. She gave me a big squirt.
"Like it? It's Desire."

I took a whiff and tried not to gag. "Not bad."

"We'll take this," Ashley said to the lady behind the
counter. "The biggest size you have, please."

The total came to eighty-six dollars. For perfume!

Ashley slid her father's credit card across the counter and smiled at me. "We'll wear this in Minx's class and
drive him crazy."

Next we went to lingerie and tried on bras. Standing
next to Ashley in the tiny dressing room, I finally didn't
have any choice but to look at her up close.

Now I could see that she really is perfect. Her breasts
are smaller than mine, but very round, and her stomach
is flat as a board even after everything we ate. Her skin is
light, light tan all over, the color of cream soda.

I tried not to stare at her, but I couldn't help sneaking
little peeks. The sight of my own fat stomach and thighs in
the mirror next to her made me want to cry. I kept trying
to cover parts of myself up so Ashley wouldn't have to see
all of me at once.

"That looks good on you," Ashley said, not even looking at the pink satin bra I had on. "You should definitely
get it."

Ashley was wearing a matched set of white lace bra
and bikini bottom, looking like a model. She was adjusting the straps and frowning at herself in the mirror, from
every possible angle. Now she was pinching her thighs,
hard enough to leave marks. "Gross," she said.

All I could do was shake my head. Did she really not
know how pretty she was, or was she just trying to make
me feel bad?

Finally Ashley said, "I don't care what I look like, I'm
getting it. I'm getting it in every color they have."

After shopping, we went straight to Baskin-Robbins
for sundaes.

"You know," Ashley said, her mouth full of whipped
cream, "this is fun. We should do this more often."

"Yes," I said, not knowing whether she meant the
shopping or the ice cream. "We really should."

In the woods behind the bus stop, we stood side by
side, watching our sundaes come back up in reverse order.
Ice cream first, then hot fudge, whipped cream, nuts, and
finally, that red dot of cherry I swallowed whole.

When Ashley finished, she wiped her mouth on the
back of her hand. It came back smeared with red.

"Ashley," I said. "I think you're bleeding."

"Am I?" said Ashley and spit into her palm. Blood.
"Huh," she said.

"Are you okay?"

She looked at me and smiled. "Yeah! It doesn't hurt or
anything."

"Okay," I said.

Ashley wiped her hand on her jeans. "It's no big deal,
Isabelle. It just happens sometimes."

"Sure," I said. "No big deal."

IT WASN'T MY MOTHER who picked me up, it was
Aunt Weezy. I spent fifteen minutes looking for a red
Toyota when I should have been looking for a green
Volvo. I wasn't sure why she was there instead of Mom,
but I wasn't about to ask. I just got in and buckled my
seathelt.

"It's good to see you, sweetie," Aunt Weezy said, leaning over to kiss my cheek.

"You too."

"Your mom's got a lot of grading to do, so I offered to
pick you up."

"Oka "
Y•

Aunt Weezy looked pretty. Hair fluffed, lipstick, little
drop earrings. This is what my mother could look like if
she tried.

"Hey," Weezy said. "Are you hungry? I told your mom
we'd pick something up for dinner. April wants pizza. How
does that sound?"

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"Pizza it is, then."

Aunt Weezy's car is like her, clean and neat. She listens to only one thing when she's driving and that's country music. She calls it food for the soul.

Weezy went to college in Montana. Her husband, my
uncle Jack, is from there. Missoula, the town is called.
He speaks with an accent. He also has a heard and wears
Wrangler jeans. I like him, even if he is Nini's father. Nini
doesn't deserve him.

When we pulled into the parking lot of Illiano's Aunt
Weeny unbuckled her seatbelt, but she didn't get out of
the car. She sat with her hands on the wheel for a minute.
Then she turned in her seat to look at me.

"Isabelle." She paused. Out came the same question
she asked on the phone earlier. "How do you think your
mom's doing?"

I fiddled with a button on my coat. "What do you
mean?" If Aunt Weezy said one word about my mom and
dating I was getting out of the car. I didn't care if I had to
walk home.

"I don't know," she said. "I can't figure out what's going
on. She just doesn't seem like herself. She's ... distracted."

I pulled on my seathelt, stretched it out in front of me,
and let it snap hack in again. "Well, she's busy. You know.
She has a lot of grading to do and everything."

Aunt Weezy frowned. "I don't know. Maybe she's
working too hard."

"Maybe," I said, even though I knew Mom was only
working part-time now, teaching only two courses. Aunt
Weezy wasn't supposed to know.

"I don't know," she said again, shaking her head.
"Maybe she should go and talk to someone. I tried to get
her to go, after your dad died, but ..."

That's what Weezy does. She just comes right out and
says it. After your dad died. "She was just ... in shock, I
guess. She couldn't talk about him."

I pretended to be interested in my coat button again.
There were lots of things in my head I wanted to say, but
I couldn't. Everything was stuck in my throat like peanut
butter.

"Oh, Isabelle. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up.
I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," I mumbled.

"I didn't mean to worry you."

"I'm not worried."

Aunt Weezy sighed. "Okay.... Anyway, I'm sorry. Let's
just go get some pizza. Okay?"

We got out of the car and started walking across the
parking lot. Right before we got to the door of the restaurant, Aunt Weezy put her arm around me and squeezed.
"It's good to see you, sweetie."

I let my head rest on her shoulder for just a second
before we went in.

On the way home I rode with the pizza on my lap, warming my legs. Whenever the box got too hot I'd lift it up,
then put it hack down. It smelled so good I could almost
taste it. Nothing tastes as good as the first bite of pizza.
Nothing.

Aunt Weeny was singing along with the radio, not
exactly on key, but nice. I'll bet she sings all the time at
home, in the shower, making dinner. I'll bet Uncle Jack
does too. Maybe I should move in with them. Nini can
move into my house.

I took some time to imagine the switch. Me, Aunt
Weezy, and Uncle Jack sitting around the dinner table,
singing, laughing.

In the real world, Weezy was pulling into the driveway
right behind Mom's car. She was yanking up the parking
brake and pulling her keys out of the ignition.