Conversations With the Fat Girl (12 page)

?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?

92

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.

94 88 Uza Palmer

?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

96 90 Liza Palmer

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

98 tJza Palmer

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.

99

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

100 94 Liza Palmer

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-

101 Conversations with the Fat Girl 95

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??

102 96 Liza Palmer

?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

105 Conversations with the Fat Girl 99

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.