Conversations With the Fat Girl (13 page)

BOOK: Conversations With the Fat Girl
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It's not like I can do that another weekend. Why don't you give me these

girls' e-mail addresses or phone numbers and I'll call them and set up

your shower that way?? I am wondering how our cute little chat about my

Domenic suddenly turned into me flying to Washington, DC? ?No, that's

fine. I'll just tell them you're busy Maybe I'll ask another one of the

girls to help plan the shower. Gwen is flying out. She asked after

you.?Olivia throws what she knows to be the final blow. Olivia met Gwen

Charles when Olivia interviewed for an internship at one of the top

talent agencies in Los Angeles after she graduated from Cal. Gwen is the

personification of perfect. She is about five foot one and weighs

about-and I'm guessing here-five, okay maybe six pounds. Her hair is

almost black and cut in the height of style by someone with one name.

Olivia didn't get the job (the CEO'S daughter did, what can you do?),

but she did find a lifelong fan in Gwen-her first ?real?friend after the

bypass surgery and after Olivia rid herself of her wallet- size

?before?picture. Gwen got Olivia interested in public relations and

still lives in Los Angeles as a talent agent. Throughout

 

106 100 Liza Palmer

 

our early twenties, I was not included more times than I'd like to

remember in Olivia's impromptu meetings with Gwen. Something about Gwen

makes me competitive. ?Gwen?? I ask. I can hear the opening chords of

?Do Not Forsake Me?in the background. High Noon. Gwen and I are standing

on opposite sides of the ghost town, fingers tickling the ivory handles

of our six-shooters, dueling for Olivia and her friendship. ?Yeah. She's

flying out for the cocktail party Maybe she can help me plan the shower.

No one is going to do it as well as you, but maybe she can get us a

little farther along,?Olivia says. ?Sure, she can help, but we've been

talking about your bridal shower for fifteen years. I'm sorry I can't

make it, but I would still like to be a part of this whole thing.?I'm

becoming upset. ?Well, we'll see. Have fun moving. I'll say hi to Gwen

for you. And we'll keep you updated on the shower. I'm going to miss

you. Are you sure about this?? ?There's nothing I can do.? I have images

of Gwen, Olivia, and all their perfect Washington, DC, friends all

sitting around drinking Cosmopolitans and talking about the Big 0-which

is how all women's films and fiction invariably end up. ?Well, I guess

that's okay then. Give me a call when you get to the new house. I'd

better call Gwen. Talk to you later.?Olivia hangs up. I hang up and feel

like someone was holding a hand over my mouth forbidding me from

speaking. My hand pulsates. Domenic. I have to set up the move, and now

is as good a time as any What's one more rejection? I pick up the phone

and dial quickly, reminding myself that he offered. Why would he offer

if he didn't want to help? Wouldn't he expect me to call? Any friend

would call. I'm just following the normal friend protocol. I dial

Domenic's number and hang up quickly before it rings. I repeat this

three times.

 

107

 

101

 

I decide instead to make my appointment with Sam the Massage Therapist

first. I call the spa and make my appointment for later that week. She

apparently had a cancellation. The receptionist confides that Sam is the

most popular massage therapist and that I'm ?lucky?I got in so quickly I

thank her profusely I dial Domenic before I have a chance to stop

myself. I can't feel my extremities. ?Hello??I'm not completely sure

it's not Domenic. ?Hello, uh... is Domenic there??I have somehow spoken

without breathing. ?Sure, may I ask who's calling??the man says. ?It's

Maggie ... from work,?I say 'just a minute.?I hear the phone placed on a

surface and muffled voices. Then I hear the lower tenor of Domenic's

voice. He's being told there is a girl on the phone named Maggie. He's

either smiling or looking confused. He's walking toward the phone right

now with thoughts of us. Thoughts of what he thinks of me. ?Hello??he

says. ?Hey there.?I can say no more. I am hyperventilating, and my voice

catches. Why am I so incredibly socially retarded? ?So what's going

on??He's doing his best to move this dying conversation along. ?Not

much, I just wanted to see if you were still interested in helping me

move this weekend?? ?Just let me know what time.? ?I think we should

start early, that way we can finish before the temperature skyrockets.?

Skyrockets? Yeah, that's verbiage I use every day Supercool of you,

gosh. Magical. ?Yeah, we wouldn't want any skyrocketing going on.? Is he

making fun of me? Did he just use the Christina Dahl tone of voice?

 

108 102 Liza Palmer

 

?Well, it is Fourth of July weekend.?I try to convince myself that I'm

getting more comfortable. ?That it is. What do you have planned for

today??I hear Domenic tapping a pencil on a table. ?I've got some

packing to do. You know, the onesies. I plan to put together an entire

box of nonrelated items in a haphazard fashion and label it with an

unintelligible title.?Am I trying too hard? ?Well, make sure it's off

balance and the box isn't taped well. Then we'll really have ourselves a

party.? ?I'll be sure to do that.? My voice is rising in tone. I resolve

to calm down. ?Well, I don't want to keep you. I'll see you at

Peregrine's party tomorrow, right?? ?Absolutely!?Once again with the

shrieking. Domenic and I sign off. I can't remember a time when I just

did something without unremittingly second-guessing myself and finally

opting for the road more traveled. I let every opportunity walk right by

instead of grabbing it by the collar and bringing it in for a long,

sweet kiss. Once again, Peregrine is right-what am I so afraid of?

What's worse than sitting here now-alone and tormented by my own safe

and comfortable life? If I am forever cast as the fat, jolly sidekick,

it's my own damn fault.

 

109

 

No Kids, Kay?

 

I wake up the next morning with a start. All of my clothes are packed

and I have nothing to wear to Peregrine's birthday party tonight. I put

in a call to Mom. She has left for work, Russell says. I'll call Kate.

?Hello, who is it??It is Bella. ?It's Maggie,?I say, in my craziest

voice. ?Hi, Maggie,?Bella says. ?Is your mommy there??I ask. ?Yes.?Bella

is holding the phone so close to her small cheek I can hear every

exhalation. ?Can I speak with her??I ask. ?Yes.? Bella holds the phone

even closer to her mouth. ?Do you think I can speak with her now??I am

smiling. I want to be in the warmth of the home Kate has created.

?Yes.?Bella still holds the receiver. ?Thank you, baby,? I say

?Wait.?Bella pauses. ?What is it, sweetie??I ask.

 

110

 

Liza Palmer

 

?I like you?Bella drops the phone on the table and yells for Kate to

come to the phone. ?What's going on, Bobo??Kate asks. ?Nothing much,?I

lie. ?You sound a little Kate trails off. ?I need an outfit for this

stupid party tonight. A party this twenty-eight-year-old busboy is going

to be at-so I can let him walk right by me and never ever grab anyone by

the collar. Not once, Kate!?I can barely get a breath out. ?Sweetie, why

do you think you need to grab twenty-eight- year-old busboys by the

collar??Kate asks. ?He made a CD for me. I didn't want to like it, but I

did. There was this one song. . . but he's a busboy at Joe's. How do you

do that? Twenty-eight years old?? ?Okay, you're a little vulnerable

right now so I won't remind you that you, too, work at that very same

coffeehouse. No, you're not twenty-eight, but you will be in a matter of

weeks. How come I haven't heard about this guy??Kate is much more

distracted about not being in the loop than by Domenic's career choices.

?Yes, but I have a master's,?I say ?Sweetie, I know you're going to find

your way back to the museum of your dreams. So for now, why don't we

talk more about why you haven't told any of us about him.' ?Because ye

just been. . . I don't know, kind of embarrassed.? ?About what?? ?That

he's this guy who still buses tables at a coffeehouse and Adam Farrell

is Dr. Adam Farrell. Soon to be Mrs. Dr. Olivia Farrell.? ?Mrs. Dr.

Olivia Farrell is about to make one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

That guy doesn't know who she really is and couldn't care less.?

 

111

 

105

 

?I know, I know I just... I think I'm having a hard time looking at this

realistically if that makes any sense.? ?It does. Maybe this is a good

thing, you looking at all of these factors you never thought about

before. You know, Texas Steven was a complete loser, but you never even

gave that a second thought.? ?You thought Texas Steven was a loser??

?Honey he was a loser.? ?He was golden.? ?Well, then he was a golden

loser.? We are silent as I mourn Texas Steven. Kate sniffs. ?So what's

going on with you?? I change the subject after crossing myself. ?I got

Olivia's wedding invitation in the mail today ?Yeah?? ?There's this

classless handwritten note on the bottom that says, 'No kids, kay?' Is

she kidding me?? ?At least you got an invitation.?I haven't received

mine yet. I have a sinking feeling I might not get one at all. Kate and

I go on to cattily discuss those quiet, intimate moments before Dr. and

Mrs. Adam Farrell initiate some kind of sexual intercourse. We picture

them in two huge, queen-size beds. They yell sweet nothings across their

respective beds as Olivia romantically plucks the bright orange earplugs

from Adam's ears. He stops. Drops. And rolls over to his beloved. Some

nights he keeps the black sleeping mask on; other nights he pulls it off

in a fit of passion, only to catch a glimpse of himself in the

full-length mirror behind the door. I am officially cheered up after

several minutes of imagining these scenarios and dissolving into fits of

laughter about what Dr. Adam Farrell's tiny hands really mean. ?We'll go

shopping with you. What about Mom??she asks.

 

112 106 Liza Palmer

 

?She's at work.? ?Well, we'll just have to go it alone.? I close my door

and leave Solo in the House of Emptiness. She has become more and more

ornery since we have decided to move/been evicted. The lack of a routine

and the fact that all our belongings are in boxes have been just the

recipe to turn my dog into a raving lunatic. So I called around and

found this huge dog emporium that grooms dogs and has obedience classes

as well. I thought I would take her to get groomed the day of the move

and, if things go well, sign her up for obedience classes. I rub Solo's

ears as she leans into me. I drive over to Kate's house lost in thought.

I find myself somewhere on Colorado Boulevard and can't remember how I

got there. I've been driving for a full five minutes and cant remember

one turn or one red light. Because I've never had an actual

relationship, my family treasures these little crushes as the crumbs

they can feed on until the real thing comes along. So naturally I worry

what Mom will think of this newest crush. Does she ever look at the man

Olivia snared and wonder why I can't reel in one like that? I pull up to

Kate's house and once again the Bat Daughters run out to greet me. Kate

saunters out behind them. ?You ready??I say ?Mom is on her way?she says.

?Oh.?Bella and Emily stare at me and wonder why their Aunt Maggie isn't

excited to see their precious Grammy ?What's going on??Kate asks. She

continues, ?Emily Bella. Can you go inside and get whatever you want to

the mall with you??This is the battle cry of moms everywhere. Sending

the children away Not only that, but sending them inside to search for

unspecified items to take with them to a 'mall. This is a

precedent-setting offer.

 

113 Conversations with the Fat Girl 107

 

As soon as the girlies leave, I begin. ?I don't think Mom is going to be

as gung-ho about Domenic as you are. Her little grandchild light is

flickering as it is.,, I'm speaking quickly I shouldn't really put so

much stock in what Mom thinks of the men I like, but I just can't lie or

keep anything from her. ?Honey, we just want you to be happy For pete's

sake, you don't have to marry the boy?In a moment of horror about what

she has let the girlies do, Kate turns to the house. Then she turns back

to me. 'His name is Domenic?? ?Domenico,?I breathe. ?How could she not

like that? Look, at some point you just have to bring someone home and

not worry so much.?Kate becomes distracted again by the time that has

elapsed since the girls ventured into the house in search of the

ill-gotten booty We hear a crash from inside and quiet shushes. ?She

just wants what's best for you. That's all we've ever wanted.? Kate

starts walking inside, calling the names of her lovely daughters. I

follow her and decide to try one last point of debate. ?Did Mom approve

of Vincent when you first brought him home??I ask. ?Of course she didn't

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