Calm, Cool, and Adjusted (26 page)

“Lilly!”

“Well, she does. Why would anyone work so hard for that body and then put it in a garbage sack?”

“Speaking of which, can I have my skirt back now?”

“Not until after the wedding. They say if you do something for three weeks that it becomes habit, so maybe you’ll decide the skirt isn’t all that, you know?”

“You wish.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about before the dinner gets cold?”

“That guy is a creep.” I point to the door. “I don’t want to run with him. Ever. Unless I’m running
from
him. I do not like him on the beach, I do not like him within reach. I do not like creepy man Jake. I do not like him, not even for your sake.”

Morgan starts to laugh, but Lilly has no idea what I’m talking about. She will, in about four months.

“So what do you want me to do about it? I made a mistake in judgment.”

“I want you to break up with him for me. You’ve got a built-in excuse. I obviously can’t run with a cast, anyway. You got me into this, you get me out.”

“He didn’t seem to notice your cast.”

“Which is not a good thing, Lilly. Will you do it? Or should I ask his cholesterol numbers and maybe about his intestinal tract? That should make for good dinner conversation.”

Lilly crosses her arms. “Fine, I’ll do it.” She shakes her head. “I just really didn’t see it until you pointed it out tonight. The hormones must have me off my game.”

“Nice excuse.”

“Come on, now, I worked all day on that lasagna, and you’re not ruining my dinner party.”

And with that, one slightly creepy date down. The couples’ shower, rehearsal dinner, and wedding with Dr. 90210 to go.

chapter 19

Miles run: 0

Laps swum: 19 with self-made plastic wrap over cast.
Duct tape really is a miracle in itself.
Update: Learned cast is waterproof. Duct tape unnecessary.

Desperation scale: 4

I
t’s been nearly a week since I last ran. I’ve replaced running with organic chocolate. The feeling/high is the same, but I imagine the long-term results won’t be. I can feel my body-fat percentage slipping as I chew, but is it stopping me? Heck no. I’m one of those challenges on
The Biggest Loser
, and I’m losing. But oh, I’m losing gracefully.
It tastes so good.
And just when I think I’m ready to stop? I feel my fingers unwrapping another small bite.

I Tivoed an entire week of reality television, and I’m sitting on my sofa with Safflower the cat on my lap, nervous-eating and downing ginseng tea with cinnamon in it to keep my sugar and insulin from spiking. It tastes disgusting, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. There are little foil wrappers strewn about the sofa, and as I yell at the television and a catty bachelorette, I realize it’s over for me. This is my life. I’m sneaking chocolate, wallowing in my lack of exertion, yelling at women I don’t know from Adam, and petting a cat who allows me to live here. I went to college for this? This has eating disorder written all over it.

I pick up my cell phone and punch in a number, but then I realize I’m overreacting. It’s the lack of exercise endorphins in my system, and I hang up before it rings. I forward through a set of commercials and my phone trills. Pausing the DVR, I see it’s Simon on the line. I take in a deep breath.

“Hi, Simon.”

“Did you just call me?”

“Yeah, but it was nothing. It hadn’t rung yet, so I just hung up. Sorry I bothered you. Are you golfing?”

“On a Saturday? Are you kidding? That’s when all the weekenders golf.”

I laugh. “You’re such a snob.”

“Seriously, everything okay? Are you going to the house today?”

“I am. I’m driving up to the city this afternoon and thought I’d take Highway 1 to get ready for Morgan’s couples’ shower tonight.”

“What’s a couples’ shower?”

“It’s this vindictive thing that women do to force the men in their lives to be as bored as we are with inane party games and the opening of gifts. We’re sharing the wealth.”

“Ah. So who are you being vindictive to?”

“Dr. Jeff next door.”

“The plastic surgeon?” He starts laughing.

“We made a deal.”

“Well, he got the better end of it. Why didn’t you ask me?”

“Because I didn’t want you getting the idea I was going to run away with you to Hawaii.”

“Poppy, I’m an intelligent man, am I not?”

“You are,” I admit.

“I’ve stated my position, you’ve stated yours. Am I right?”

“You are.”

“You can’t blame a guy for trying, Poppy. Now what did you call for? Really.”

“I was sitting here, eating chocolate and feeling sorry for myself, and I thought about my quest for normalcy.”

“Your what?”

“Don’t ask. Anyway, I thought what Morgan and Lilly would most like to see is me as them. Normal and mainstream. So I thought I’d go to the shower dressed to the nines.”

“All right. And how can I help you?”

“Well, I started to think I’m not all that familiar with mainstream or normal, and I can’t ask the Spa Girls, or it won’t be a surprise.”

“You’re not going to ask me for fashion advice?” Simon asks.

“Of course not. But you’re the guy who knows someone in every business. I thought maybe you know a girl, you know?”

“Well, my sister’s a hairdresser, and she’s a makeup artist. When can I pick you up?”

“Simon, really? It’s Saturday. Won’t she be busy?”

“Yeah, she’s probably busy, but I’m her brother, Poppy. Besides, I would pay money to see this. Not because you need makeup, but because the idea makes me laugh. It’s the antithesis of you.”

“Well, join the makeover club. I have the feeling Lilly and Morgan will welcome me back into their fold, and they’ll see that really I’m no different with makeup than without.”

“I’ll pick you up in an hour. I’m just mowing the lawn.”

“You mow your own lawn?”

“Why wouldn’t I mow my own lawn?”

“I just thought you had a staff or something.”

“All the more reason you need to get to know me better, Poppy.”

“So are you upset I’m going to the shower with Jeff?” I probe, looking for a little harmless jealously on his part.

“I figure the sooner you get that ridiculous notion out of your system, the better off we’ll be.”

I bite down my smile. Looking down at the wrappings surrounding me and feeling my hair, which is not brushed and full of split ends, I realize I’m not exactly the picture of health at the moment.
What if his sister thinks I’m human vermin?

“I’ll be ready in an hour.” I hang up, knocking the cat off my lap, picking up the foils and throwing them in the recycling. I, Poppy Clayton, am getting a makeover. The concept makes me laugh out loud. Safflower, a huge orange-and-white tabby, meows at me to show her disinterest, which only makes me laugh all the louder.

I found Safflower outside an auto-parts shop. She was drenched in motor oil and it took a half a bottle of Dawn to clean her up. That’s right, no organic soap would touch her. From that day forward, I vowed she’d never know anything but natural oil, and so her name, Safflower, came to be. Her full name is Expeller-Pressed Safflower Oil. Safflower for short. She’s about as slippery as oil, without a cuddly gene in her.

“Will you even recognize me this afternoon, Safflower?”

She meows, moves into a patch of sunlight on the hardwood, and collapses into a long, lazy Saturday stretch.

I’m heading to the shower when my phone trills again. It’s a number I don’t recognize, and I pick up. “Dr. Poppy.”

“Poppy, it’s Dad.”

“Dad, where are you? After that weird reunion, I haven’t heard boo from you.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about the way we left the house. Sharon was finished living there, and we just had to get out of town before our temporary housing was gone. Packing up an entire life is more trouble than it’s worth. So far, anyway.”

“Why were you living in temporary housing?” I mean, I know he wasn’t in the house, but I never thought to question why he wasn’t in Arizona yet.

“Didn’t you see the leak in the roof?”

“No, Dad. A friend took care of it for me.”

“Well, it ruined Sharon’s coffee table. She was thinking of filing an insurance claim.”

“What about an insurance claim for the leaking roof?” I ask, trying to keep the
duh
from my question. While I love my father, his idea of maintenance is to allow something to fall apart and find someone to pay for the new one.

“That’s homeowner’s insurance,” he tells me. “You would have had to file the claim.” My father can’t hide his bitterness. Admittedly, what my mother did to him—emasculating any claim he had to their house—was not the wisest thing as a wife, but the fact is there wouldn’t be a house if she hadn’t. She loved him despite his downfall, and I suppose I must too—and at the same time be understanding of his position.

“Daddy, I would have to have known there was a leaky roof to do that.”

“Poppy, don’t get angry. We’ve kept that house up for two decades. It’s just in need of major repairs now. The ocean air is hard on any structure, darling.”

My father is a jolly man who’s never given a second thought to money. In his mind, it flies down from the sky and rescues him at the last moment. Somehow he’s managed to escape bankruptcy, and most bills when they come due, for an entire lifetime. He sells Amway, Avon, and a litany of health supplements, and he has always managed to get by. I don’t know how he does it, but he drives a Lexus the size of an oil freighter. Sharon drips in diamonds that Morgan tells me are all D in color, and nearly flawless, and Lilly tells me Sharon’s shoes are worth a mint. Like I say, I don’t know how they do it, because I’ve never really seen my father work, but they always manage to come out smelling like roses.

“I’m not angry, Dad.” The truth is I can never get mad at my father. He’s irresponsible. I dress like I’m in 1970. It’s just who we are by nature. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Arizona now. Sharon and I got into our condo just this morning, and already we’ve been told we’re not allowed to move in on a Saturday. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“They must have a homeowner’s association. They like moving to be done quietly so the rest of the neighbors aren’t affected. My condo made me do that too. It’s ridiculous, but that’s when people are home, and in big complexes, they argue that would ruin nearly every weekend for homeowners.”

“Sharon’s been yelling at the manager all morning. We bought most of the furniture new, so we just had to wait on the delivery trucks. That could have been anyone here who bought a new couch. Some people don’t have enough time on their hands. We found out you can’t drape a towel over the balcony either. What kind of place did we—”

“Tom!” I hear Sharon screech.

“I’m on the phone!” he yells back.

“The coffee table is here. He says it’s COD!” Sharon yells.

“I have to run, Poppy. Listen, the foster program is going to call you about us. Turns out we can’t just take Sharon’s sister’s kids without some paperwork. Just tell them we’d make great parents, and I’ll talk to you soon. Let me know if I can help you on the house at all. Love you, honey!” He hangs up on me. Very unlike my father, but I know he’ll find a way to charm me back into his good graces soon enough.

“Is it any wonder I’m weird?” I ask my mirror. I hope Simon’s contractor knows about the roof.
This is going to cost me a fortune.
My mother didn’t leave that house to my father for a reason. She signed a prenup long before they were fashionable because she loved a man who loved money. I love my father intensely, but somehow I can’t help but hope that COD coffee table doesn’t arrive on my doorstep with a note of how to ship it back to him. My dad would give you the shirt off his back, but you probably paid for it.

I enter my bathroom and turn on the tabletop waterfall that makes it sound like the spa. Then I start the bath, pour eucalyptus bath gel into the water, and let the mentholated steam fill the room. I’m curious if Simon will notice I used something different. I light a few candles, grab a
Natural Health
magazine, and step into the bathtub (one footed—yes, the cast is waterproof, but it takes forever to dry out). I ate chocolate. I didn’t run. I’m getting a makeover. Today, I enter normality. Even if it’s a brief tour to show my friends I can play nicely.

I close my eyes and let the scalding water embrace me. I think about the chlorine warnings that other natural health doctors give their patients about the hot water—an excess of the chemical chlorine can enter your skin through osmosis. This is a rule I never had any trouble avoiding. There is nothing better than relaxing in a bathtub and water-logging a magazine, lulling yourself into a pure and blissful state. Sometimes, people can go overboard.

After reading through the magazine, I toss it over the edge of the tub and allow myself to enter into a state of total leisure, and not for the first time I think this feels really good. This is how the other half lives. But naturally, I can’t stay here. A control freak is in a constant state of motion and this moment comes but ever so briefly.

The doorbell rings.

Sometimes even more briefly than one hopes for. I look at the handmade rock clock on the wall and realize it’s been over an hour. Simon is here, and I am definitely not ready for my close-up.

chapter 20

Miles run: 0

Organic chocolates consumed: Never mind

Desperation scale: 0

I
get out of the tub quickly, which proves to be detrimental to my current state of cleanliness. My cast isn’t nearly as agile as I would hope, and in an instant I am splayed out on the ceramic tile, buck naked, listening to the doorbell.

“Just a minute,” I wail.

In all my makeover images, this was never a part of it. I grab the side of the tub, and pull myself upright. I have cat hair stuck to my legs now. So attractive. My cell phone rings, and I look at it wondering if I should answer. Naturally, it’s Simon. “Hello!” I try to sound calm.

“Poppy, are you all right in there?”

“I’m having a little trouble with my cast. I’ll be with you shortly.”