Read Conversations With the Fat Girl Online
Authors: Liza Palmer
?Sweetie, are you okay??Kate asked gently ?Yes, Mommy, I'm fine,?she
said. ?I hope all the other girls are okay with what they're wearing.?
And into class she walked, sparkling wand in the air, to greet Miss
Janie. I want to he like that. I want to be seven years old again. I
want to go back to the day my confidence left me and was replaced by an
apology ?I found a place,? I say to Cole. ?Where??Cole is going through
the pastry shelves in search of the perfect victim. ?Pasadena. A house.
A tiny house, but it's got a great vintage look to it. You know,
woodwork, a fireplace, and hardwood floors. The whole shot.?
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?Oh yeah? Sounds nice.?Cole is pulling out a piece of mocha chocolate
cake and a piece of cheesecake. ?Sounds nice? What it sounds like is a
goddamn miracle.? ?Hey sailor. Watch the mouth, okay? I said it sounds
nice.?Cole is now putting two pieces of cake, two scoops of Fosselman's
chocolate ice cream, and whole milk into a blender. ?I'm moving Fourth
of July weekend,? I announce as I pour my nightly cup of decaf coffee
into my favorite porcelain mug. ?You're moving??Domenic asks, walking in
fifteen minutes early ?Oh, yeah... I got thrown out of my old place and
found a great new one. I'm moving in Fourth of July weekend.?Wanting to
act suave, I keep the porcelain mug at my lips. Somehow, in my mind,
this seems European. ?Independence Day, huh?? Domenic strides past me
into the backroom ?Yeah, Independence Day!?I shriek, as Domenic walks
out of earshot. I decide to clean the toppings area by the ice cream
case he- lore Cole tells me to. I will begin refilling the sprinkles,
nuts, and cookie bits, which are all coincidentally stored in the back
loom. Where Domenic is. Heh. I stack four jelly jars of ice cream
toppings on top of each other and push through the back room door
butt-first. Butt first? I have obviously gone temporarily insane. The
door swings shut behind me. I set the jars on the metal rack that holds
the dish dryer, extra ice cream cones, and all of the delectable topping
refillables. ?Hey there.' Domenic is sitting outside with the back room
door open. Domenic is comfortable sitting with his latest novel and a
soda in one of those 195Os brown plastic cups.
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?Hey there, whatcha reading??I glance at Christina, who is now bending
over, dustpan in hand, sweeping up the last bits of trash on the ground.
I glare at her ass. I sneak a look at Domenic. Is he looking? Is this
the ass of his dreams? Does it matter that this perfect ass is connected
to an insipid, arrogant tart? ?Darkness Visible? William Styron??
Domenic flips the book to reveal the cover. ?Oh.?I've never heard of it
and have no idea who he's talking about. I am silent. ?So are you
excited about moving?? Domenic continues. ?Absolutely. It's kind of
magical. The house is beautiful. Just beautiful.?I am now the type of
person who uses words like magical. This is new. ?What makes it so
good??Domenic sets his book down. ?Nothing. Well, not nothing. I mean,
it's pretty boring stuff, you know. Like girl stuff.? I look to
Christina. She blankly stares hack at me with the eyes of a circling
shark. I once asked her how she decorated her bedroom at her parents'
house. She said she loved matching black, white, and red. ?Kinda like
those pictures at hair salons.? 'Makes sense.?Domenic takes a sip of his
soda as punctuation and picks his book back up. ?Boring stuff like
hardwood floors and a fireplace,?I almost yell.
?It has a fireplace??Domenic turns the page. ?Yeah. The house is tiny
It's four hundred sixty-two square feet. But it's big enough for one
person. You know, and my dog. The rent's okay, a little more than I was
paying, but definitely worth it, considering.?I have finished refilling
the toppings. Now I find myself wiping down the metal rack itself.
Peregrine walks through the door right on time for her shift.
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She gives me a big thumbs-up as I talk to Domenic. My face turns bright
red and I feel like I have feathers sticking out of my mouth-like I've
been caught. At what-I still don't know. Flirting? Behaving like a
woman? Blocking Christina's perfect ass from Domenic's view?
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Sam
Madonna's ?Crazy for You? was playing in the background at Bellis Music
Camp farewell dance. I played a mean viola. He was first-chair upright
bass. The only problem with my fantasy evening was we were wearing the
same charming outfit- plaid shirt and khaki pants. If we'd danced
together that evening, we would have looked like an old couple
celebrating their fiftieth anniversary at a hoedown somewhere in the
Midwest. But we didn't dance. As I lurked on the fringes, he sat on a
piano bench oblivious to my affections, sipping his yellow- colored
drink from a Dixie cup. That was the last time I spent my birthday with
a guy Technically, he didn't even know it. ?Christina? Cole says you can
go home. Domenic will finish anything you didn't get to,?Peregrine says.
Christina unties her apron and meets her waiting flock of model-actress
friends in the coffeehouse as Cole beckons Domenic. I am alone in the
back room with Peregrine. Her face is drawn, and I am uncomfortable with
having to ask her what's the matter. You don't do that with Peregrine.
Well, I don't do that with Peregrine.
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?So Movie Night, huh? What made you choose Garland and Streisand?
Remember when they sang together that one time and Judy was all hopped
up and grabbing on Barbra? Funny, huh? Hey is Inez going to be there??
As I babble, Peregrine is rummaging through the medicine cabinet in the
employee bathroom She pulls the dental floss from behind the mouthwash.
Peregrine and Inez met at a Gay Pride parade. Inez was at a booth
gathering signatures in support of gay marriage. Peregrine was
?dressed?as Lady Godiva on the back of a white horse completely naked,
save the long blond wig. ?I went to my grandparents' last night and
brought Inez,?Peregrine says. I can barely understand her through the
act of flossing and for one second think she's said that she fucked her
girlfriend in front of her grandparents. ?Oh??I hesitate. ?I was finally
going to introduce her as my girlfriend. I c-mailed my mom and told her,
but she couldn't care less. But my grandparents, that's a different
story?Peregrine never talks about her mother-though everyone knows that
this little move out west was not about running to something. It was
more about running from someone. ?So what happened?? This is my stock
conversation filler. Peregrine may love to talk about herself, but she
demands active listening. If I don't make some attempt at a proper
reaction, Peregrine will assume the story is dull and either add more
hyperbole or pepper the narrative with juicier details. This could add
hours to an already lengthy tale. ?They're the only family I really give
a shit about ... so.? Peregrine walks outside and lights a cigarette.
?What happened??I ask. ?I totally backed out and introduced her as my
friend, 'like sisters.?Peregrine takes a drag. She looks off into the
distance.
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?So what happened?? ?I'm all right. lnez is a little ... unhappy She's
been out to her family for years, and she thinks I'm embarrassed about
us. That couldn't be farther from the truth. I just don't know how my
grandparents are going to take it, and I can't risk it. What if . 1
can't imagine not having them in my life. Something about that made me
think of you and Domenic.? She said you and Dominic like we're a couple.
I think I'm missing the point here. Peregrine continues. ?That moment
where I lied to my grandparents. That one moment-maybe two
seconds-that's how you've lived your whole life so far.?As a closeted
lesbian? ?What??I ask. ?You have feelings for Domenic.? ?Maybe' I think
about the sheet of paper next to my telephone that harbors my elaborate
doodles. Mrs. Maggie Brown. Mrs. Margaret Thompson-Brown Mrs. Margaret
Brown. Mr. and Mrs. Domenic Brown. Domenic. Domenic. Domenic. Domenic
and Maggie. Maggie and Domenic. ?So go after him. What are you so afraid
of?? ?Nothing.?Everything. ?Is this the whole sex thing? ?Hey, I've been
with someone, you know.?I start biting my nails. ?Ten seconds with the
great mathematician doesn't count.?My face goes bright red. Peregrine
continues, ?Would you do me a favor?? ?Sure.?I think she's going to ask
me to stock the straws. ?You get your eyebrows done over at that spa on
Green, right??Peregrine is digging through her pockets as her cigarette
dangles from her mouth. ?And pedicures,?I brag.
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?Look, if you refuse to get yourself laid, will you at least go over
there and get a massage? Maybe that'll stir something up.? Peregrine
pulls the pencil from behind her ear and writes down a name and direct
line on a piece of paper she pulls from her pocket. Another direct line.
Great. I take the paper. ?Sam? Do I have to get naked in front of her??I
stutter. ?Just go. Tell me when you've made the appointment.?Peregrine
puts the pencil back behind her ear and gets up from the table. I follow
Peregrine as she opens the door to go back into the coffeehouse.
Christina is there introducing Domenic to all her model-actress friends.
He looks uncomfortable but steady. He is shaking hands and smiling. The
girls are happy to meet him. One especially aggressive Jezebel has her
hand on his elbow as she talks to him. He looks down at her fingers. He
is charming in that unavailable quiet way that makes you think he
doesn't give a shit about anything. What could be more attractive? I
walk behind the counter and help the next customer. Cole is sipping
espresso, staring at the girls. Peregrine walks behind me and pours
herself a cup of coffee. At closing time, Cole opens the front door long
enough to let the three of us out while he sets the alarm for the night.
Peregrine, Domenic, and I sit on the benches in front of Joe's. There is
so much subtext that no one says anything. We are all having
conversations with ourselves when Peregrine interrupts. ?So are you guys
going to be able to make it to my birthday party on Thursday? I booked
the roof of the Pasadena Museum of California Art-pretty amazing, huh?
You did get your invitations, right??The theme of the party is the
1980s. All of Peregrine's parties must be themed. The invitation was
amazing. It was a hand-painted wooden box that had been decoupaged
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with magazine articles from the decade. Once you opened the wooden box,
you were met with a puff of white powder and a rolled-up dollar bill.
Peregrine, being the current-events maven that she is, never once
thought that in today's political climate sending a wooden box filled
with white powder might not be the best idea. Nonetheless, after several
false alarms to the FBI, guests could find all the party information
printed on the dollar hills. Even with that buildup, I had forgotten
about the party until right now. I never put it together that our
birthdays are within weeks of each other. Aaargh-I had completely
forgotten about my impending birthday Twenty-eight. The march of time
isn't quite so daunting as the day itself. I can handle New Year's Eve.
I've convinced myself I don't mind spending that holiday alone. 1 tell
people it's ?spiritual?for mc to ring in the New Year alone. And in a
way, it's actually true. But birthdays? Everyone asks what you're doing.
You can't use the old spiritual, alone thing for some reason. Luckily my
family throws a huge birthday celebration for me, my sister, and my
stepdad, Russell, because all our birthdays are within days of each
other. I'll go to the party alone. But then I'll go home by
myself-again. Another year. ?Yeah, that sounds fun,?I say. ?Yep.?Domenic
is sitting straight-legged with his backpack on, arms behind his head.
?So you guys will be there??Peregrine asks. ?I move that weekend, but it
may be a nice last fling on that side of town,?I say. ?Do you need help
moving??Domenic asks. Did he just say what I think he said? Did he just
fucking say what I think he said? ?W-w-what?? I stutter.
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?Moving? Do you need any extra help? I have that weekend off,?Domenic
says. Peregrine blows out a shaft of smoke. ?That sounds great. I don't
have that much stuff. I asked my family, but I could absolutely use more
help. So, gosh, thank you . . . that's super. . . supercool of you.? I
have never used the word super in any conversation, let alone supercool.
How the word gosh made its way Into my vocabulary is a whole other
conversation ?Well, we'll talk about it on Thursday night at Peregrine's
party okay?? He looks me dead in the eye and smiles. Then he wraps his
hands around his backpack straps and walks to his car parked in back of
the coffeehouse. ?Wow,?I say ?So gosh ... thank you . . . that's
supercool of you,?Peregrine mocks. ?I've been here before. This is just
about being a friend.? ?How?? ?I've known Domenic for almost a year now
and he's never made any kind of move,?I reason. ?You mean like asking if
you need help moving? Like something as overt as that? Unthinkable!?
?It's not as easy for some of us. I'm not saying this in some kind of
sad-sack way, either. Sometimes people just don't like you that way
Mason was a complete aberration.?Peregrine looks confused. ?The
ten-second mathematician has a name, you know.?I continue, ?It's not all
flowers and boyfriends for some people. I'm not being shitty about
myself, it's just. . . it's lust how things are for me.? ?You make it
that way You and I are not so different.? ?I know I'm a good person, but
1 think if you put me and
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Christina in front of Domenic, his instinct would be to choose
Christina.? ?Have you ever asked yourself the same question?? ?What are
you talking about??
?If you had the chance, would you choose to be Christina??
To be Fatty or Bobo. ?If you can't even choose yourself, how can anyone
else?? With that, Peregrine takes the knife out of my back, gives me a
kiss on the cheek, and walks out into the dark of the night.
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GOLDEN
I don't know if I'll ever be ready for Domenic. I don't know what I'll
do if he leans across the bed like Mason Phelps, the ten-second
mathematician, did. There was an innocence to Mason that I understood. A
newness that I knew he was feeling as strongly as I was. His pale chest
and textbooks helped me see him as somehow harmless. Domenic is not
harmless. While he appears vulnerable, there is a definite feeling that
lets you know he knows what he's doing. And unlike poor Mason, ten
seconds would hardly describe anything Domenic would be capable of. It's
eight thirty at night and I'm alone. Peregrine is right. I would choose
Christina over me. What I wouldn't give to throw on a pair of jeans,
look at myself in the mirror, and not roll my eyes. The phone rings. I
wipe away my tears and gently push a worried Solo away ?Hello??I ask.
?Hey there, girl.?It's Olivia. ?Hey, how's the wedding?? ?Great, great.
Patrona took Mommy through a big tasting
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dinner and she could not stop talking about it. I got a proof of the
centerpieces from Patrona, they're gorgeous, by the by, and I got the
last of the measurements from Martine. Say hello to a size two, girl.
The photographer we met with is sending over proofs of her work and I
just couldn't be happier.? She finally takes a breath and asks, ?What's
going on down there?? I need my best friend. The only thing I feel is
frustration. Frustration at dooming this crush before it even gets off
the ground. Here it is the most important time of her life. I feel
embarrassed at how I am behaving. For one second, could this
conversation just be about Olivia's wedding? ?Boy trouble,?I say
Obviously not. ?Who is it? I'm not breathing, by the way.?Olivia doesn't
miss a beat. ?His name is Domenic.? She now knows. ?Domenic. Damn, that
just sounds fine. Either tell me more about him or get me a brown paper
bag to breathe into.? ?Yeah, well. He's twenty-eight, lives with like
four hundred people in a tiny loft in downtown LA, and is a sculptor of
some kind. Makes tiny hands and heads, or something,?I reveal. ?What?
Tiny heads??she asks. ?A dollmaker. His grandmother and mother are doll-
makers . . . it's a family business. He's really a sculptor, but he does
the doll thing, too. Dolls??I say ?Are you ... I mean, do you feel weird
about this? Did you not want to tell me about him? He sounds perfect for
you. If one of his little sculpty heads breaks, you can get right in
there and fix it. What's going on here?? ?I just... I don't know. . . he
beautiful. Tall. But I just look at him and get terrified . . . I mean
he still buses tables. Just watching him walk around with that plastic
bin . . . I don't know . . . it freaks me out. He's basically running
the doll busi-
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ness with his grandmother. I guess he does the hands and feet. He says
no one can do faces like his grandmother. I don't know. For all of Mason
Phelps or even Texas Steven's shit, they were able to. . . I don't know.
. . do man things. I don't know if Domenic can do that stuff.? ?Was
Texas Steven a fucking lumberjack or something? Olivia asks. ?He was
golden.? ?Maggie?? ?His hair, remember that? It wasn't brown or blond-it
was naturally golden. And the body. ?Maggie?? I am silent. Golden.
?Mags... come back to me.?Olivia laughs. ?Not the same with Mason Phelps
... more Steven-you know, more. . . I don't know how to explain it.?I am
caught once more in the goldenness of Texas Steven. ?You know why Mason
doesn't affect you like Texas Steven?? ?He wasn't golden?? ?No-remember
the concert??Olivia is silent. Waiting. ?Yes.?I don't want to talk about
it. It was traumatizing. ?And?? ?I saw ... I saw I can't say it. ?You
saw Mason Phelps air-humping the stage.? ?Yes. Yes. I think he thought
it was dancing. But it wasn't. It wasn't, Olivia. It was so far from
dancing. And then I pictured Saint Patrick's Day and . . . well, you
know.?We both fail to control the giggles that ensue. ?You do this all
the time. When someone stops being this perfect man, you pick something
completely random and decide it's a deal breaker. Remember John Sheridan??
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?John Sheridan was plain stupid and only parroted back whatever Caroline
Pond said earlier that day? ?But it's the same deal. He was always that
stupid, you just turned him into this huge fantasy When you found out
who he really was, you weren't interested anymore. See what I'm saying?
And he wasn't half as good looking as you made him out to be, by the
way? ?Well, he's no Ben Dunn, I guess.? ?Who is? Oh right-my
Adam!?Olivia shrieks with delight. I am silent. ?Do you see what I'm
saying??Olivia continues. ?A little.? ?What about Owen Lynch?? ?What
about him?? ?Why did you stop liking him?? ?He had that booger hanging
out that one time.?Come on. A booger. Who wouldn't be repulsed by that?
?That alien you slept with?? ?His name was fucking Bobby Bol, for the
love of God.? ?And Adam-your red-suited Adam from college?? ?You
remember when he wore those black basketball shorts-and he had those
white-white legs, and his leg hair was really black. You must remember
that.? ?See where I'm going with this?? ?What does this have to do with
Domenic?? ?I think you're doing it again. You're holding him up to a
standard no one can live up to, except men who never, I guess, become
ungolden-or something.? ?I don't know.? ?Is he nice?? ?Yes.?
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?Is he cute?? ?Yes.? ?Well, then?? ?I don't know,?I say And I don't.
Apparently, I don't know anything.
104
We Wouldn't Want Any Skyrocketing Going On
I've always imagined Olivia's wedding as the high point of our
friendship-two fat girls finally making good. I hive visions of toasting
with champagne and dancing until all hours to old Salt-n-Pepa jams. I've
been a bridesmaid twice. When Mom married Russell, I cried like a baby
At Kate and Vincent's wedding I wore white Converse All Stars and made
funny faces in all the wedding pictures. I have played the roles of
daughter and little sister well. Olivia's wedding will be the first
wedding where I finally get to play the role of a grown-up. During a
pause in our phone conversation, I have flashbacks comparing Mason with
new visions of Dominic. Not bad. Then Olivia wastes no time in getting
down to the business of the wedding. Once again she breaks out the
checklists, color- coordinated card files, and three-ring binders. Maybe
I missed the boat on what our fat-girl zenith would be like. In my
fantasy, Mary Benicci is catering the affair while she shouts at poor
Shannon Shimasaki for eating all the puff pastries. Now I see that the
reality is all this organization and planning. It's just drudgery My
fantasy world has succumbed to the harsh
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realities of best friend bridezillas who want to put a spotlight on my
Area. Olivia's begging me to fly out to DC for another engagement party
where we'll plan her bridal shower. ?Can't you just fly out on Friday
and get back early Sunday? You can move Sunday afternoon. I planned a
cocktail party on Saturday night for all the girls. Friday you can have
to yourself. Adam has a dinner with the head of his department, so you
would only have to come out for the cocktail party Please? I just really
need you right now.?Am I supposed to spend hundreds of dollars on plane
tickets, anti-anxiety pills, bottles and bottles of vodka and Valium,
just to come out for one cocktail party? ?I can't do it. I'm moving.