Confessions of an Ugly Girl (18 page)

I just got off the phone with my sister Rachel.

Rachel and I have a weird relationship. Unfortunately, we don’t really talk much anymore. I’m three years older than she is and we used to be friends when we were kids. We used to dress up together and put on elaborate fashion shows for our parents, and Rachel would follow me around like I was her greatest hero. But sometime when we were teenagers, we started to grow apart.

Actually, I should be honest: I know the exact moment when my relationship with Rachel fell apart.

I was 17, a senior in high school, and she was 14 and a freshman. I was feeling pretty depressed because I desperately wanted a boyfriend, yet no boy would even look at me. It was something I thought about constantly and was extremely frustrated. I feel kind of bad whining about it now, considering that when Sam was 17, he was getting used to living the rest of his life as a quadriplegic. Makes my problems feel a little small, in retrospect.

My aunt Maxine was visiting us, and the second she saw Rachel, she made a huge fuss over her. She started talking about how Rachel had blossomed and how beautiful she looked… and I started to realize she was right. And as ugly as I had felt, I felt a million times uglier at that moment. Maxine didn’t even give me a cursory, “Nice socks,” or whatever.

Then Maxine started teasing Rachel about boys and how they must have been going crazy over her. Rachel initially was shy about it and didn’t say anything, but then she finally admitted, to my horror, that she had a boyfriend at school. My baby sister had a boyfriend before I did! I wanted to die.

Of course, since my mom didn’t want us to actually date, Rachel’s relationship was pretty limited. But we went to the same high school and I had to watch Rachel stare lovingly into her cute boyfriend’s eyes in the hallway all year. It was miserable.

And then when Rachel started dating The Wonderful Theo, it just got worse. My mother used to constantly gush about him. By that point, I pretty much expected Rachel to get married before I did. But that didn’t mean it was any less painful.

Her wedding was probably the last straw for me. I suspected Rachel must have chosen bridesmaids’ dresses specifically based on what would flatter me the least. The frilly purple frock with the short sleeves definitely didn’t do me any favors. Of course, I know Rachel didn’t actually want me to be one of her bridesmaids and our mother just forced her to ask me. After all, we may have been sisters, but we weren’t friends. Not anymore.

I spent most of Rachel’s wedding sitting alone at a table while relatives came up to me and made comments about how funny it was that my little sister was getting married before I was. Ha ha, that’s just so
funny
! Yes, I’m sure I’ll be next too. Yes, I really
should
hurry up and get married before it’s too late. Thanks for the advice. 

After that wedding, I basically never called Rachel again. And she never called me.

That’s why I was so surprised when I picked up the phone just now and it was her. I had been waiting for Sam to call and I didn’t have Rachel’s number even programmed into my cell phone, so I thought it might have been him calling from a phone at work or something, even though the area code was wrong. When I heard Rachel’s voice on the other line, I was almost speechless.

“Hi, Millie,” Rachel said. She sounded very quiet and reserved on the other line. She’s actually very shy, even though she’s so pretty. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “How are you doing?”

“I found out I’m having a boy,” she said.

“Oh,” I said. A boy. My mother was going to be so happy. She always wanted a boy, even though she won’t admit it. I bit my lip and forced myself to sound happy. “That’s wonderful, Rachel.”

“Theo wanted a boy,” Rachel said thoughtfully. “I sort of wanted a girl, but… well, I just want the baby to be healthy.”

(I don’t understand why when you ask a pregnant lady if they want a girl or a boy, they must respond that they just want the baby to be healthy. How are those things even related? “Healthy” is not a gender.)

“Boys are great,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about the baby. I didn’t even want to talk to my best friend Donna about
her
baby so I certainly didn’t want to talk to Rachel about it.

“Um, so… my friend Gloria is making me a baby shower and I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

I wondered if my mother had told Rachel to invite me. “Uh, sure,” I said. I definitely did
not
want to come, but I figured I was stuck. How could I say no to my own sister’s baby shower?

“Also,” she said, “we’re inviting couples, not just women, so you should invite Sam too.”

That was definitely not what I expected Rachel to say.

“Theo and I really liked him,” she went on. “Daddy liked him too. He seems wonderful.”

She didn’t sound patronizing at all. It sounded like she meant it. The thing is, Rachel is a really nice person. She doesn’t rub my nose in how great her life is, but that still doesn’t make it any easier for me to swallow. I wonder if maybe now that things are better for me, we could restart our relationship. For a moment, I allowed myself to fantasize about my sister and I being friends again like Sam is with his brothers.

I mean, Rachel is my sister. I only have one sister.

“Also,” she added, “he’s really cute.”

That got me to laugh. Rachel and I talked for about twenty minutes after that and the whole thing really made me happy. I’m actually in a wonderful mood right now. Which is good because my phone is ringing now and it’s probably Sam, and we’re going to have a great night together.

January 21:

I just had the weirdest interaction with Martha.

I came home from work today and found her outside the house with a man I didn’t recognize. For a moment, I thought Martha was hooking up. I think that would’ve completely blown my mind. Especially since the man seemed about 20 years younger than she was.

But when I got closer, I could tell that they were involved in some sort of business interaction. They were standing in front of the steps to the front door, Martha was talking, and the guy was nodding. I heard him say, “Yeah, I could do that.”

“What’s going on?” I asked Martha. Was she doing renovations? That would’ve blown my mind almost as much as her hooking up. Ooh, maybe we were getting a new washer and dryer!

“I’m going to be installing a ramp to the front door,” the man informed me as he pulled a tape measure from his tool belt.

I stared at Martha in surprise. She looked away and started stroking a orange cat that had suddenly appeared in her arms.

“Why are you installing a ramp?” I asked her.

“Well, for your friend,” she said. “He can’t get in without it, can he?”

I didn’t point out to her that he still wouldn’t be able to get into
my
apartment on the second floor. I don’t know if Martha envisioned the two of us hanging out at her place. Presumably she did.

“The thing is,” I said to her in low voice while the handyman took some measurements, “I may be… moving to his place sometime. Sometimes soon. So I’m not sure if you need to build a ramp.”

I expected Martha to go completely berserk at the news that I was moving out, and possibly start throwing cats at me. But she didn’t. She just nodded her head thoughtfully. “Well,” she said. “The two of you could still come visit. That boy looks like he could use a good meal.”

“We’ll visit all the time,” I promised her. I meant it.

Hopefully, Sam doesn’t have cat allergies.

January 22:

I’m sick. It’s like someone blew up a balloon inside my nose and just left it there. I actually called in sick to work, which I almost never do because I’m such a diligent little worker bee, but I just feel so crappy.

This is a quickie post because Sam is on his way over. Obviously, he can’t come into my apartment (damn stairs), but he’s taking me to his place so that he can pamper me. He made his housekeeper Lucy cook me up some soup. This is going to be sweet.

I feel a little guilty exposing Sam to my cold, but then again, I think I’ve already done that. I still worry a little bit, because I figure in the category of people extra vulnerable to colds, like asthmatics or diabetics, quadriplegics are probably in there somewhere too. He even admitted to me that he had trouble breathing after his injury and he’s got that scar on his neck from having a trach, which freaks me out a little. But Sam swears he never gets sick.

Ah well, he’s calling. If he gets my cold, it’s his own damn fault. I’m off to be pampered!

January 24:

This morning I was feeling a little better, but still sick enough that Sam was able to talk me into calling in sick yet again. He, on the other hand, had to go in to work. He still hasn’t caught my cold and he swears it’s not going to happen.

I was walking around the apartment in one of Sam’s shirts, which was nice and big and cozy on me, when I ran into Lucy, Sam’s cleaning woman. I was really embarrassed to be in just a shirt, but at least my legs were shaved. Lucy gave me a bright hello and asked me if I’d like breakfast.

“Uh, you don’t have to,” I said. I felt kind of awkward having someone in my home to cook and clean for me. We never had that growing up. It makes me feel all bourgeoisie. Of course, I know Sam only has a housekeeper because it’s hard for him to do a lot of that stuff himself.

“It’s no problem!” Lucy chirped. “Would you like some oatmeal?”

I must have been really sick because oatmeal sounded incredibly good, so I agreed to let her make it for me while I got dressed. I guess Lucy cooks for Sam a lot, so it’s not a big deal to her.

When I came out of the bedroom after showering, there was a nice hot bowl of oatmeal waiting for me. At that moment, I completely loved Lucy. I forgot everything I had been feeling in the way of jealousy and I wanted to give Lucy a great big kiss. Mmm... oatmeal.

I dug into the food while Lucy cleaned around me. Again, this made me feel a little awkward, but I was too hungry to care. Lucy was humming some song from the radio, but kept pausing to make comments when she watered Sam’s plants, like, “Oh, hello, Mr. Plant. How are you today?” I thought back to what Sam said about feeling much much older than she was and I could now see what he meant.

“By the way,” Lucy said. At first I thought she was talking to a plant, then I realized she was talking to me. “I hope I’m not out of place saying this, but I just wanted to tell you that Sam seems so happy since you two have been dating.”

I looked up from my oatmeal. “Yeah?”

“Oh yes!” Lucy nodded vigorously. “He’s always in such a good mood these days. I’ve been working here for almost two years and I’ve never seen him so happy.”

Two years. I did a quick mental calculation and realized that Lucy was implying that he was happier with me than he was with Holly. And presumably happier than after Holly dumped him.

“Sam is so sweet,” Lucy said. “You guys make such a great couple.” Her eyes lit up. “Hey, maybe you’ll get married?”

“We’ll see,” I mumbled, not wanting to let on how much I’d thought about it.

“I told Sam he should propose to you,” Lucy said. “I totally think he’s going to. That would be awesome.”

Lucy was making my head spin a little bit. Or maybe that was my cold. I finished my oatmeal and told her I was going to lie down again. But when I got to the bed, I kept thinking about how she said I was making Sam really happy and it made it hard for me to sleep.

I want to make him happy. He deserves to be happy.

January 29:

After all Sam’s big talk about never getting sick, I just drove him to the doctor yesterday.

Actually, I’m being melodramatic. I drove him to the podiatrist for an appointment. He was having a little procedure and I talked him into letting me drive. It wasn’t a big deal or anything, but he apparently had an ingrown toenail that was a bit infected and he needed it pulled.

Okay, that was gross. But it was gross in a good way, if that makes any sense. Like when an old woman wipes the drool off the face of her husband of fifty years, and everybody goes “aw.” I’ve never been close enough to a man to get involved in his medical care in any way. I felt closer to him that he was including me in this, even though I actually think he would have preferred if I didn’t know about any of it. I only found out about it accidentally when I caught him making the appointment. 

Because we took my car, we didn’t have the advantage of handicapped parking, but the lot was not that full so it was fine. Sam looked totally calm during the drive, even though he was about to go through a painful procedure. Then again, he wasn’t going to be able to feel the painful procedure, so maybe that’s why he wasn’t nervous.

I didn’t go into the room with him. I’m not good around blood and gore and stuff like that. Hence the career as an actuary and not as a cardiothoracic surgeon. He seemed relieved that I didn’t want to go in, to be honest.