Psychos: A White Girl Problems Book (18 page)

“I didn’t know that anyone was visiting today, but it’s nice to see you all too.”

“I invited them to stay for dinner!” Lizbeth said excitedly.

“How nice of you to have invited our longtime friends over to our house, Lizbeth,” I said, slightly too rudely. I honestly don’t know how to act around her.

“Barbara, congratulations on the publication of your first book! How wonderful,” George interjected, clearly trying to change the direction of the conversation.

“Thanks, George. Not sure how much me being published says about the literary world as a whole, but I accept your affirmative positivity.”

“I for one think the book is fabulous,” my father added.

“You’re my dad. You have to say that.”

“Well, I’m not your dad,” said Charlie, “and I thought it was really quite fantastic, Babe.”

“That’s really nice of you, but please don’t feel the need to compliment my writing just because you’re a guest in my home.”

“I would never dream of it. I told you in LA, I read the whole thing in one sitting.”

“By the way, how is your actress girlfriend doing? Did she like my book too?”

“Actually, my now ex-girlfriend did read it. She slept with David Duchovny on set. True colors, I guess. Don’t worry about me, though; I’m fine.”

“Her loss,” I offered.

He continued. “And yes, she also loved your book. I think she even called it ‘a brave exploration of the modern woman’s psyche.’ ”

“She said that? You’re kidding.”

“Yes. I am,” he said, grinning.

I love it when guys lie to me about their ex-girlfriends.

“Excuse me, Lizbeth,” Charlie continued, “can I help you set the table?”

“How sweet of you to offer, but it’s already been taken care of. Why don’t you and Babe go into the living room to have a chat and relax. I’ll let you know when everything’s ready.”

“Have a chat?” I asked sarcastically.

“Babe . . .” My dad sighed.

“What? She isn’t British! Okay, okay. Give me a minute.”

After a quick wardrobe change, a new hair choice, and a glass of champagne, Charlie and I were seated next to each other, catching up on the past fifteen years. Charlie (via his parents?) seemed like he had a pretty good handle on what I’d been doing with my life. It was sweet that, after all this time, he was still keeping tabs on me. I asked him what he’d been up to.

“Well, I went to the London School of Economics and hated it. Then I worked at Barclays as an executive for a few years. Hated that as well. But I just moved to New York City about eighteen months ago to run a hedge fund an old friend of mine started. To tell you the truth, I’m loving New York and I’m really enjoying my job, which is a nice change of pace for me.”

“That all sounds amazing. I’m not used to being around people who are happy, or stable, or normal.”

“Well, you seem like you’re doing quite well for yourself. Writing books, traveling the world. Sounds exciting.”

“It’s definitely exciting, but not always in the ways you’d think.”

Lizbeth came to tell us that dinner was ready, so we all piled into the dining room just off of the kitchen. My dad had really outdone himself. Two chickens, a mountain of mustard potatoes, and enough steamed spinach to feed the Paltrow-Martins for a week. I generally hate the holidays, as they involve being around an excess of food, but after my chaotic European travels it was nice to be with my family again. I’d missed seeing my dad and I think I’d even missed Lizbeth a little bit too.

“I hope everyone’s enjoying the roast birds,” my dad proclaimed. “I haven’t made this in years.”

“You haven’t made anything in years!” Lizbeth shouted. She was always shouting.

Everyone laughed, including me, which was a first.

My dad stood, putting one hand on Lizbeth’s shoulder and raising his wineglass with the other.

“I hope you’ll all be available to join us in Los Angeles this June.”

“Dad, I told you: no more birthday parties. I don’t even care that I’m turning twenty-six.”

“No, Babe, this is something else. Lizbeth has foolishly agreed to make me the happiest man in the world by being my wife.”

Everyone at the table erupted with excitement and joy about this news. Conversely, I felt like I’d been hit by a bolt of lightning. My legs felt like they were melting, my head was spinning, and I could have easily thrown up. A wedding? A fucking WEDDING?
I’d accepted the fact that Lizbeth was going to be in our lives for a long time, but I never in a million years thought that she and my dad would get married. How could he not have asked me for permission first? I’m not sure if I was actually screaming, but I definitely heard the sound of my voice screaming, at least in my head. It was almost an out-of-body experience.

As I scanned the table, I noticed that the only other person who wasn’t smiling ear to ear and staring at my dad and Lizbeth was Charlie. His eyes were on me. Maybe he had some preternatural sense that this news shook me to the core, but he gave me a look that let me know he was on my team. His eyes were blue. Very blue.

He stood up from the table.

“Lizbeth, Mr. Walker. My congratulations to you both. This is truly wonderful news and I look forward to June, but I’ve just looked at the time and unfortunately I’m running late for a work function that I must attend. It completely slipped my mind. A sincere apology to you all for jetting so abruptly. I must’ve lost track of the time.” With that Charlie looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Then he continued. “Also, another apology for stealing Babe away from this celebratory occasion, but she’s already agreed to accompany me this evening. I can’t bear the thought of having to go to this dreadful event alone. We will make it up to you both. Right, Babe?”

“Yes. Soooo sorry to run out. Congrats, guys. Sooooo happy for you. Let’s celebrate more tomorrow?”

With that, I reluctantly kissed my dad on the cheek, gave Lizbeth a hug that was more of a limp offering of my torso in
her general direction, grabbed my coat . . . and was out the door with Charlie. We walked around the corner to a cute little pub that I’d passed by a million times but had never been in.

“I really can’t thank you enough for rescuing me. How did you know?” I said to Charlie as we nestled into a booth in the back of the empty bar.

“You looked helpless.”

“Was it that obvious?” I asked as we sat in a booth, sipping our respective G&Ts.

“I don’t think anyone else in the room had a clue, but I knew I had to get you out of there before you exploded. I remembered how you can get.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t remember? When we were young—your dad and that woman Natalia?”

Hearing that name opened the floodgates. Natalia. The summer I turned twelve, my dad and I spent it here in London. Charlie had been around. My dad was dating this model named Natalia, who was a total bitch. She was a complete psycho when he wasn’t there, but when he got home from work, she would turn on the charm. Toward the end of the summer my dad asked me how I’d feel about Natalia being my “mummy.” I raged out, screamed at him, and told Tai Tai that if he married Natalia, I’d divorce him, emancipate myself, and become a gypsy.

“I forgot you were there that day.”

“I know that we’re all adults now and you don’t need someone speaking for you, but I didn’t want to see you go through all that again.”

“Thanks. You were really helpful back then too.”

“I’m not sure how helpful I could’ve been when I was thirteen,” he laughed.

“No. You were. You totally calmed me down. You watched ten episodes of
Frasier
with me because you knew I loved that show. I think that was the day you kissed me.”

“It was. I can’t believe you remember that. It was my first kiss, if you can believe it.”

“I can, because it was mine too.”

Then Charlie put his arm around my shoulders for a few seconds. It wasn’t awkward. It was just nice. We spent the rest of the night exchanging war stories about our failures at love. Charlie confided in me that all of his friends were either married or engaged and that he hated all of their wives and fiancées. I told him about Robert, and Cal, and Paul, and Thalia. I was even able to laugh about the entire Babette drama. Charlie didn’t judge me for any of it.

It was weird, because I’d felt an instant connection with Charlie when I saw him in our kitchen back in LA all those months ago, but as soon as I learned he had a girlfriend I’d completely blocked him out of my mind. But now that we were here together, it felt like I was supposed to be in this pub with him. I’m normally so different when I’m around a guy, but with Charlie, I felt like myself. We had this incredible history and a similar upbringing and he just got who I was. Charlie was like a mood stabilizer. I didn’t think about my dad and Lizbeth once after we’d left the dinner table.

Charlie walked me back home. I kissed him on the cheek, thanked him for everything, and told him I’d call him the next
day. When I got into the apartment my dad was sitting alone in Tai Tai’s favorite chair, looking out the window with a glass of single malt in his hand.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said quietly.

“It’s fine, Dad.”

I walked over and sat at his side. “I just wish that you could have filled me in about your decision to get married before you announced it to everyone at the table. I felt like an idiot.”

“I’d planned on telling you about this when I first saw you in Switzerland, but you seemed so frazzled. Understandably, of course. I’d just had you rescued by the Swiss Secret Service in a helicopter owned by Donald Trump’s son, Donald Trump. I didn’t want to add any further stress to your life. I thought I would wait until we had a private moment to discuss.”

“I just need time to process.”

“I’m the same way. I hate being blindsided. I feel like a right twat for putting you in this situation.”

“When did you propose?”

“Yesterday.”

“Wait . . . why isn’t she wearing a ring?”

“She didn’t want one, can you believe it?”

“What?”

“She’s an Ivory Coast activist—blood diamonds, you know the drill.”

Maybe it was all the therapy that I’d been through in rehab, or maybe I finally understood what love was, or maybe it was that Charlie had calmed me down by being so cool and understanding, but I wasn’t really mad at my dad. This engagement was inevitable. Lizbeth made my dad super happy, she obviously
wasn’t a gold digger, and her hair always looked stunning, even after the gym. It could have been a lot worse. My dad could have married Courtney Stodden.

“I’m really happy for you both, Dad. I know you guys really love each other and I’m glad you finally found your person.”

“Babe, you don’t know how wonderful it is to have your blessing. I do love Lizbeth, but I will never love anyone as much as I love you. You’re my daughter, and nothing will ever change that.”

“Unless I transition. Then I’d be your son.”

We both laughed. My eyes started to well up with tears.

“Are those happy tears or sad ones?”

“Maybe a bit of both? I just want to be able to find my person.”

“Babe, give yourself a fucking break. It took me years to find someone to love, who would love me in return. I thought that I was set when I met your mother. I was convinced that we would spend the rest of our lives together, but look how that turned out. Donna was a nightmare. She could’ve never been a wife, let alone a mother. She was batshit, dear. Crazy, jealous, out of control, and vindictive, and I fucking loved it. Nothing hotter than a gorgeous psycho-bitch model with a coke problem. But we both had a lot of growing up to bloody do. In order for two people to truly fall in love, they both need to love themselves first. It’s taken me thirty-one years to figure that out.”

“Please arrange for my assassination if I haven’t found someone to marry in the next thirty-one years.”

“It won’t take that long, my dear. You’re too special. But you need to be patient. I assume things didn’t work out with that Robert fellow the way you’d planned?”

“Honestly, Dad, it’s so complicated that I can’t even get into it. I’m pretty sure we’re never going to happen.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But there will be others, and probably better ones.”

“You’re probably wrong, but thanks.”

“You need to be happy as you. Then you can be happy with someone else.”

This was the most I’d spoken to my dad in months. I’d forgotten how nice it was. As we sat there in silence, I finally decided to give up on Robert once and for all. It wasn’t in the cards for us, and I couldn’t waste another minute trying to put those pieces back together. I needed to move on now or risk being stuck on him forever.

Charlie and I spent a lot of time together over the next couple of days. We saw a movie, had dinner, and then went Christmas shopping at Harvey Nichols. Maybe I’m a total slut, but this was the first time in a while that I’d really been into someone without having slept with him immediately. As the week went on I started developing feelings for Charlie. Not, like, head-over-heels/I-feel-like-I’m-on-heroin-whenever-I’m-around-you feelings, but definitely little cocaine-y heart palpitations here and there.

Christmas was uneventful. My dad got me a new Birkin to replace a stolen Birkin, Lizbeth bought me a new cold juice press, and I got them each a JAMBOX and a snowboard. Neither of them are snowboarders, so I thought it would be rude and funny. After everyone had opened their presents, Charlie and I went for a walk in Regent’s Park. It was fucking freezing,
and when Charlie rubbed my shoulders to warm me up, I got goose bumps. This was what I wanted to feel. Without hesitation I stopped walking, turned to him, and pulled his face toward mine.

When my lips touched his, there were way more sparks than I’d expected. His lips felt soft and full. Charlie didn’t hold back at all. We finished the kiss, and he looked deep into my eyes.

“Wow. I don’t think I want to wait another fifteen years before I can do that again,” Charlie whispered.

“You don’t have to,” I said. “I could go back to New York with you.”

“What do you mean, ‘go back to New York’ with me?” he asked, brushing a snowflake off my nose.