Undiscovered Gyrl: The novel that inspired the movie ASK ME ANYTHING (Vintage Contemporaries) (9 page)

Monday, December 17, 2007

 

Cole got a vaccination today and afterwards when he started to cry so did I. On the way home Margaret said she was really impressed that I had been so moved. She said most young people lack empathy. Especially beautiful young girls. It was wonderful to get a compliment like that so I didn’t tell her that the real reason I cried was that there was a cheesy calendar on the wall in the doctor’s office that showed two lovers holding hands on a perfect beach and it reminded me that I will never kiss Dan again.

Driving home I sat in back next to Cole. He was about as happy as I have ever seen him. He squeezed my finger and whenever I crossed my eyes at him or made a funny face he gently smiled. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could forget pain as fast as babies do? But if we did, I wonder if we would learn anything. I mean, isn’t it pain that teaches us life’s most important lessons? I want to learn from the pain of Daniel.

•    •    •

 

When Paul got home from work we all hung out together in the kitchen. Margaret tossed a big salad and Paul popped pieces of cucumber in his mouth. Paul is brilliant and speaks with charm about every subject. I don’t care at all about sports except when I’m faking it for my dad, but I understand it pretty well. Paul explained the steroid scandal, and I swear he made it sound exciting. He talked about how baseball, except for jazz and movies, is America’s greatest contribution to the world’s culture, and to see it dirtied this way really disgusted him. I hope Margaret knows how lucky she is to have a rich handsome husband who is never boring.

On my way to the car I turned around and looked at their big, gorgeous white house all lit up and twinkling in the cold, but so warm inside, and I thought this is what I want someday. And I can have it. All I have to do is make smarter choices.

Driving home I decided to cheer myself up by going on the biggest shopping spree ever. I bought two wool tops, three hoodies, two pairs of skinny jeans, two packs of hairbands, two lacy bras, two red undies, a pair of red ski gloves, a jar of all-natural anti-dark-eye-circle cream, five magazines, one makeup remover with cucumber and aloe, a phone charger for my car and a pretty black velvet dress with a bow in back
which is the perfect combination of dressy and casual. Oh, yeah, and a pair of black patent-leather ballet flats. I spent my gift certificate from Jade, all of my mom’s present and most of last week’s salary but it only cheered me up a little.

When I got home and saw my bedroom, I cried for two hours. I am still such a little girl and I hated that it showed in my lavender and white bedroom. I threw stuffed animals around and broke a music box and wished I had never met Dan. My mind was filled with vengeful fantasies. I wished that I was pregnant so I could wheel our baby by his house and torture him. I wished I knew who the best man at his wedding was going to be so I could seduce him. I would take phone pics of his head between my legs and send them to Dan. And then I thought maybe I should seduce Martine instead. I love them seafood crepes! Ha! These nasty ideas did not make me feel better. I went downstairs and drank one of Mark’s fancy Dutch beers. That helped. Then I came up here and drank two more beers and smoked about five more cigarettes and that helped some more. Maybe someday I’ll be a famous alcoholic, chain-smoking writer. I’ll write a book about me and Dan. I wouldn’t have to make anything up because the truth is pretty fascinating. At least I think so.

•    •    •

 

I texted Jade three times just now. No answer. I bet that bitch is in love again just when I need her most. Probably with the kid in the Santa hat.

I got a birthday card today from Affie. A lame joke card. Only two days late. My dad didn’t write anything inside, just signed it. The hopeless scrawl of a dying man. Usually I spend Christmas with them but this year they’re driving downstate to visit Affie’s mom. I’m glad they will be gone. They both suck.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

 

I guess the babies got all the crying out of their systems last week because at today’s RIE class (I misspelled it before) there was no crying at all. The babies just laid there on their backs checking each other out like shy kids at a party.

RIE doesn’t believe in tummy time. Most parents put babies on their stomachs a lot, which mashes their faces into the floor or the mattress. They flail around pathetically. RIE believes “Why put a baby through that? Why make him unconfident like that?” They believe a baby will turn himself over when he’s good and ready. I bet my mom gave me a ton of tummy time because even though I have an outgoing personality, deep down I am not confident at all. I can still taste the floor, if you know what I mean.

•    •    •

 

Being a great parent is such a massive effort. Margaret is tired all the time. Breastfeeding is really exhausting, she says. And since Cole sleeps in their bed at night, every time he wakes up even for a second he reaches for her boob and it wakes her up. The other day she said she feels like her brain is turning to oatmeal.

The idea of sharing a bed with my husband and my baby is very cozy and appealing but when do you have sex? Never, I bet. Paul must be under intense pressure down there. Ha!

After work I was so desperate for a sympathetic friend I called Merci Gregoris, my big-titted, fake blonde, moley ex-lab partner. She says a bunch of kids from our class are back for Christmas break and having a party. It’s at the house of a computer genius named Freddy Black who wears bow ties every day. Maybe it will be fun. If not at least there’ll be liquor. She’s picking me up in 25 minutes. Must shower!

LATER: 11:48
p.m.

 

I wanted to leave the second I walked into the party because the house was infested with techies. They will probably
make extremely nice billionaire husbands some day but right now they are shockingly awkward and neurotic. Plus now that they all go to Harvard and M.I.T., they are deeply up their own butts. Which is insane. If you are a scrawny male virgin with acne and greasy hair, the last thing you can afford to have is a superior attitude.

While I was getting a beer in the kitchen, a semi-cute kid named Anton Tuttle walked up. He’s tall and skinny and designs computer games. He told me he’s working on a game right now set during the Spanish Acquisition. (I have no idea what that is. It gets six million hits on google but on a variety of topics.) I tried to escape but he stepped right in front of me and said “We were in the same elective last year. Logic-Psychology with Mrs. Patterson. You don’t remember me because you were too busy being the hottest girl in school.”

“Yes,” I replied, “being hottest truly is a distraction.”

Whenever someone accuses you of something horrible, always admit it. People don’t expect it. It makes it much harder for them to hate you. Anton laughed and asked what brought me to Freddy’s party. I told him I had just broken up with two boyfriends on the same day and I was there to cheer myself up, but “so far so bad.”

Even though this was a direct insult, he laughed again. He obviously gets off on being abused.

“Where you goin’ to school?” he asked.

I told him about my academic limbo. He was impressed
that I had gotten into the school that took me but even more impressed that I had the guts to defer.

He said “I hear life after semesters is endless.”

I told him that it is, which is why I work full-time and blog. I thought that this would impress him but he made a smirky face and said “What is it about chicks and blogs? They all have ’em.”

What an arrogant ass.

“Not like mine,” I replied. “I just started it, like, seven weeks ago and it already gets between 750 and 1,000 discrete visitors a day.”

“Unless you’ve got a cam in your shower, no way.”

“Oh, I do,” I replied. “And another one in my toilet.”

I didn’t smile or even blink. He couldn’t tell whether I was joking or not.

He pulled out a handy pen. “What’s the URL?”

“Sorry, it’s anonymous.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re scared for your friends to know about it because it’s full of all the crap you tell your bestest friends over the phone only now you write it down for strangers to read instead.”

“Get laid much? Or ever?” I said, crossing my arms and giving him the hairy eyeball.

“Come on, you know I’m right! It’s totally self-indulgent, isn’t it? All about shoes and diets. And boys, of course.” Now he was really laughing. “Where’s my soul mate? Why can’t I meet him? Help!”

Normally I would never let a stranger hurt my feelings but my defenses were very low. I told him that everything he said was true. My blog was vomitous. I was a total cliché. When he saw I was about to cry he felt terrible. I was tempted to tell him the name of my blog just so he could see that I am a real person with a real life and that I hate trivia as much as he does. But I didn’t do it, thank god.

As I was leaving, he gave me his email address and said in a warm voice that he’d had a crush on me since freshman year and he’d love it if we could hang out before he went back to school. That was very sweet. I instantly forgave him for his cynical rudeness.

Jade emailed me while I was out. Of course I was right. She is in love. His name is J.D. and he works as a DJ. How funny is that? I wonder if he’s slysdexic. Ha! She says next time we hang out she’ll tell me all about him. I won’t hold my breath. There’s no excuse for what a failure she’s been as a friend.

Friday, December 21, 2007

 

I have tried all week not to sink into a giant depression, but it’s really hard not to when you are all alone in the world and there are Christmas lights everywhere. The nights are so cold and black. This is why I haven’t blogged. Too sad.

•    •    •

 

I have always had a boyfriend. My first was Jake Barsumian when I was 11. He put his hand up my shirt to rub my nonexistent boobies and I was so embarrassed I stayed home from school for three straight days. Since then I have pretty much had a boyfriend nonstop. There’s always a guy somewhere waiting for me to get single. One of my exes said to me “You treat guys like cigarettes. You chain them.”

I know I should be relieved that it’s over with Rory. Now we are both free to find something better. But I still miss having someone to talk to every day. I can’t help it. If I told this to Dan he would laugh and say “You miss him because you can’t stand being alone with yourself. You miss his worship.” He would be right.

Everyone is back for Christmas break but no one calls me.

Before I left today Paul asked if I wanted to work their annual Christmas Day party from 3:00 until 8:00. I would take care of Cole when he wasn’t sleeping or nursing and the rest of the time I would just be a guest. The pay is time and a half, plus all the eggnog I can drink. Yum! I usually spend Christmas with my dad but this year he’s out of town, so this is sort of perfect.

You should see the tree Margaret picked out. It’s a noble pine which is more expensive than the other kinds but it
leaves more room for ornaments. She looked so tired, I offered to stay late and help her decorate it but she said she has a very specific way of doing things that would drive me insane.

Paul paid me today—$624 because I worked overtime. I want to buy the Spooners a Christmas present but they already have everything.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

 

Please don’t write to me if it’s just to correct my grammar and spelling or to judge my actions. I am doing the best I can. By the way, I know how to use the word “whom.” I just think that most of the time it sounds snobby and stupid.

Today I stopped thinking about myself long enough to buy Christmas presents. I bought my mom five books and two CDs off her Amazon wish list. I bought Mark Aubichon a fancy Scrabble set because ours is missing crucial letters. I bought the Spooners a gorgeous baby album to record every moment of Cole’s blossoming life. And even though Jade is a barbarian bitch I bought her a dual outlet cigarette lighter for her car. Nothing for Rory or Dan. It’s lonely not shopping for a guy.

•    •    •

 

Joel Seidler called me again to “grab a bite.” In case you don’t remember, he’s my old geometry tutor. Big nose and wide hips. I never called him back because I didn’t want to get Rory jealous. Now that Rory’s history, I can call him. I need a friend. Especially a great listener like Joel.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

 

I actually laughed today. Really laughed. My dad called to remind me not to come over Christmas morning because he’ll be out of town. I told him that I would have to be a world-class cretin to forget such an important thing and that I had already committed to working Christmas Day.

“For the rapist?”

“Yes, Daddy, I am going to let him bang me under the mistletoe.”

“Well, then, you’re what Santa would call a ho ho ho.”

Not funny at all but he sure is fast.

I reminded him that I have a new job nannying. He pretended that he remembered.

“You’re so lucky,” I said. “What could be more fun than spending Christmas with an old Hindu lady?”

I just said this to get him going. My dad hates India more than any place on earth. I’ve heard him rant against it a million times but it still makes me howl with laughter. He hates their music, food, clothes, government, movies, accents, many-armed gods and that they are starving to death but
refuse to eat all those perfectly delicious cows. He says everything stinks in India. “Like Affie’s cooking times a billion.” The whole country’s nothing but a “curried mosh pit” with open sewers that run right through cities like rivers, only instead of carrying ships and tugboats, they carry “peanuts, chickpeas, and corn.” He says India’s the most “awful, backward, corrupt and beknighted nation on earth.” He thinks their cast system is cruel and he hopes that Pakistan nukes India into a pile of smelly dust. What makes this whole thing even more hilarious is that my dad has never been to India! He’s hardly been anywhere!

When Affie got home, he had to hang up fast. But it wasn’t because he didn’t want her to overhear his racism. She is never offended by anything he does or says. It was because she just got back from the vet who put down her cat Tapu because of its leukemia. Not even my dad is insensitive enough to continue to insult a person’s country while they’re crying their asses off. Especially when it’s the person who pays his bills and hands him his beers. I wish I could have been there to see him comfort her. That would have been funny. How do you comfort a person when your cirrhosis-belly is so big you can’t even hug them? Come to think of it, how do you drive three hours downstate in that condition? I hope he doesn’t die at a rest stop. That would be tragic.

A born-again reader asked me how come I love Christmas so much when it’s so obvious I am the worst Christian
in the world due to my sinful behavior and my “complete lack of remorse about it.” Here are my opinions and feelings about religion. I think religion helps people get through life. When you think of how hard life is and how much harder it used to be, it makes perfect sense that people invented God. I’m not just talking about when we were in the caves being eaten by saber-tooth tigers but also not that long ago when babies died during childbirth and very often the mothers did too. If you did not believe in God back then I think you would go crazy with fear and sadness.

In my own pampered life I have found that I don’t need religion so far. But that could change. There is so much about religion I sincerely love. Number one is Christmas, of course. I love everything about it, especially the myth of Jesus Christ’s birth. Some people think that because it never really happened that makes it meaningless but I totally disagree. I think the fact that it’s a myth makes it even more sacred and inspiring. How amazing that human beings would make up a manger, three kings, the shepherds, a virgin mother, a carpenter father. The humbleness and beauty of it!

Each day since Dan broke my heart, I am less and less angry. I mostly remember the good times now. His smell, his chest, his hands. It’s starting to snow out. The wind off the lake is shaking my windows. I would give anything to be crawling
into bed with him tonight. Or else outside, walking together in a winter wonderland.