Confessions of an Ugly Girl (19 page)

He was in the room maybe half an hour and came out minus one toenail and with a prescription for antibiotics. He looked slightly pale when he came out, but maybe that was my imagination. I have to admit, I was a little worried about him. He said it was just a minor infection, but what if the infection got out of hand? What if his whole body got infected and he
died
? Yes, that seemed unlikely, but not
impossible
.

On the ride back, Sam’s leg kept jumping up and down—he had to keep grabbing his knee to get it to stop. He told me that was a reaction to pain he can’t feel. I’ve seen his legs jump before and he just calls them “spasms” and apparently a lot of guys with spinal cord injuries have them a lot worse than he does. He just gets them occasionally. It still seems really weird to me, like there’s no way his leg could possibly be moving like that on its own.

(The first time I saw it moving like that, I was convinced he must have been doing it on purpose. Maybe the whole wheelchair deal was a fake, ha ha.)

The podiatrist gave him some bandages and told him to change them twice a day. I stayed over last night and offered to do it for him. It seemed like dressing a wound would be difficult without the use of your fingers

“No, I don’t want you to do it,” he said.

“I don’t mind.”

“No, you really don’t need to see my disgusting bloody toe.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m sure when we’re married, I’ll see my share of bloody toes and worse.”

Sam was staring at me and I just realized what I had said. I turned bright red. I know Sam had expressed his intentions to me, but I felt like I was being really presumptuous saying “when we’re married.” But a second later Sam was grinning at me like I just told him he won the lottery (which as I’ve said, is nearly impossible).

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “But for now, I’m still courting you. So no bloody toes.”

It just goes to show you that you can think you said the wrong thing when actually you said the exact right thing. Sam couldn’t stop kissing me after that and things got a little intense, if you know what I mean. Then afterwards, he changed the bandage on his toe by himself and it took him a freaking hour.

January 31:

You know what is awesome?

When Sam and I get married, my name will be Millie Webber. Well, Matilda Webber. That is such a nice, normal name... except for the Matilda part. But the last name is so much better. I won’t have to repeat it five times and spell it ten times. Nobody will laugh at me.

I can see why some women keep their maiden names, but I am definitely 100% changing my name. I’m sure Sam will be happy about that too, because he’s kind of a traditional guy.

FEBRUARY

February 5:

Next Saturday is Valentine’s Day.

I know this is going to sound pathetic, but this is the first Valentine’s Day when I’ve ever had a boyfriend. Or a date. I remember in high school, you could purchase a rose for your significant other and it would be delivered to their homeroom. Every time Valentine’s Day came around, I’d hold out the stupid hope that maybe there’d be some guy who had a secret crush on me and would buy me a rose to finally declare his love. Then the day would come, and of course, nobody bought me a rose, and I’d end up getting really depressed, looking at all the pretty girls in my homeroom with their roses.

By college, I knew better. I knew I was going to end up alone on Valentine’s Day and no random guy was going to miraculously show up at my door and tell me he was in love with me. But I admit, there was still a teeny part of me that believed that something romantic would still happen.

It never did.

As my twenties dwindled down, that optimistic part of me died. Last year, I spent Valentine’s Day alone in my apartment, eating chocolate ice cream. I felt like this horrible cliché: fat ugly girl alone in her apartment on Valentine’s Day pigging out on ice cream. But then, what else was I supposed to do? Hang myself? That would have been even more of a cliché.

That’s behind me. This year, Sam has something really romantic planned. I don’t know what exactly, but I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’m 99% sure he’s planning to propose.

Here’s my evidence:

1. He’s been dropping hints nonstop about rings.

2. Everyone who knows him has been telling me they think he’s going to propose soon.

3. We’ve been dating for over six months, which he said once was long enough to “know” about another person.

4. He’s a sucker for romance. What more romantic day is there to propose than on Valentine’s Day?

5. I’ve been dropping hints to him that I would say yes.

Sam was telling me he didn’t want there to be a doubt in my mind when I said yes to him. There honestly isn’t right now. I love him so much. When I look at him, I think about how I want to watch his hair go gray and his face get lined with age. I want us to grow old together. I want to spend every Valentine’s Day with him for the rest of my life.

February 8:

It’s over between me and Sam. I can’t talk about this now but this sucks so much. I can’t stop crying. Goddamn fucking Holly.

February 9:

I called in sick at work today. I’m sitting at home, eating and crying. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to work, because Sam is there. I’ll have to quit and find something new.

You probably want to know what happened.

Yesterday was Sunday, so Sam and I spent the day together. We saw a movie and then came back in the evening and had great sex. We had been planning to go out to dinner, but Sam was tired, so we decided to order in pizza. Actually, I hate eating out with Sam on the weekend because everything is so crowded and he has trouble steering his chair through restaurants.

(I’m trying to think of things about Sam that I don’t like to make this easier on myself.)

We were lying in bed together when the pizza guy rang. Sam said we should eat in bed, crumbs be damned, so he stayed there while I buzzed up the delivery guy. I threw on my shirt and pants, and went to open the door. I looked like a mess with my shirt half unbuttoned and my hair all over the place, but Sam didn’t seem to mind and the pizza guy certainly wasn’t going to mind.

Except it wasn’t the pizza guy at the door.

I recognized Holly immediately from her photos. A lot of people are very photogenic and don’t look as good in real life as in photos, but Holly didn’t have that problem. She was a hundred times prettier in person than she was in the pictures. She was really,
really
beautiful. She had these gigantic blue eyes and pouting pink lips, and thick blond hair. She smelled like cigarettes and tequila in the best possible way.

I can’t look a millionth as good as Holly at my very best, and definitely not when I was all disheveled from rolling around in bed with Sam. I felt like some sort of hideous monster standing next to her. Like I was another
species
.

I just stared at her awkwardly and she stared back equally awkwardly. Finally, she said, “Is Sam there?”

“Um,” I said.

Then she said, “Are you the cleaning woman?”

Ha, nice try. That was great, how she managed to insult me. I don’t think I looked like the cleaning woman. The cleaning woman doesn’t come on a Sunday night and walk around barefoot with her shirt half buttoned. But it was a nice reminder that I was so far off in looks from the kind of girl Sam was capable of dating that I could only be the cleaning woman, no matter how ridiculous that was.

I didn’t know what to do. We both stood there for what felt like forever. We might have stood there for an hour or longer if Sam didn’t roll in to see what was going on. When he saw Holly at his door, his eyes widened.

“What are you doing here?” he asked angrily. He looked at me. “Why did you let her in?”

“I thought she was pizza,” I said. Yes, Sam’s new squeeze was beautiful
and
smart.

“Sam.” Holly spoke quietly, like she thought maybe I wouldn’t be able to hear. “I need to talk to you. You won’t talk to me on the phone so I decided to come here.”

“What do you want?” He still sounded really angry. “Do you want to pay me back for beauty school? I’ll take a check, if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll write you a check right now.” Holly reached into her purse and pulled out her checkbook.

I could see Sam’s anger dissolve a little as he watched her write the check. “You don’t have to pay me back,” he said. “I know you need the money. It’s okay.”

I cringed inside. He was being nice to her.

Holly pulled the check out of the checkbook and held it out to him. He shook his head, “No, Holly… it’s okay. You don’t have to.”

She blinked. I could see she was teary-eyed. She put the check back in her purse. “Can I talk to you outside, Sam? Please? Just for a minute?”

Sam didn’t look angry anymore at all. He looked at me, as if asking for permission. I really wished I could say no, but how could I? She was
crying
, for God’s sake. What kind of mean, awful person would say no? “It’s okay.”

“I’ll just be right outside,” he reassured me.

He kept his promise—they stayed right outside the door, but I was still agitated about it. Also, he wasn’t even fully dressed—he was just wearing boxer shorts and an undershirt, so she was basically talking to him while he was in his underwear. I wished there were more clothing between the two of them.

I could hear the muffled sounds of them talking. I would have given anything to hear their conversation. I pressed my ear against the door and I could sort of make it out, but not very well. Then I remembered what they always do in books: take a cup and press one end to your ear and the other end against the door. I figured it was worth a shot. I got a glass out of Sam’s kitchen and put my ear against it. I felt like Nancy Drew.

(Actually, I mostly felt like an idiot.)

It sort of worked. I could hear them talking and could make out most of the words if I listened carefully. Sam was saying something that sounded like my name.

“You know it’s just a rebound relationship,” Holly was saying.

“It’s not,” Sam said. “I love her.”

“Right, you love her. I believe that.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m sorry,” Holly said. “But I know she’s not the one you want to be with. We have almost two years of history together.”

“
You
dumped
me
, Holly, not the other way around.”

“It was the biggest mistake I ever made,” she said. I felt so sick, I almost dropped the glass. “I got scared when you showed up with that ring. Haven’t you ever made a mistake, Sam? One you wish you could take back?”

I couldn’t make out his reply.

“Please, Sammy.” Holly sounded like she was crying. “Give me another chance. You owe it to us. I know you still love me. I can see it in your face.”

I wanted him to tell her to go fuck herself again, but I didn’t hear him say that. I lifted my ear from the glass and looked through the peephole. Holly was crouched in front of Sam’s wheelchair. She ran her hand through his hair and he didn’t stop her. Then, to my horror, she leaned forward and kissed him. I expected him to push her away, but he didn’t. He just let her kiss him.

I stumbled away from the door. I felt like throwing up, except of course, I didn’t have anything in me to throw up because our pizza guy never showed. All I could do was cry.

A few minutes later, Sam came back inside and found me with hysterical tears running down my cheeks, my eyes red and bloodshot, and my nose running everywhere. I was making it almost too easy for him to leave me.

“Millie?” He looked shocked to see me crying.

“I can’t believe you kissed her,” I hiccuped.

Sam’s face got really pale. “Oh God, you saw that? Millie, I’m so sorry.”

I turned away. At least he wasn’t denying it.

“Look, she kissed
me
. I didn’t…”

He seemed really guilty, so that was good. But not good enough.

“So are you back together with her?”

“Of course not!” he said. “How could you think that?”

“
Because you were kissing her
!”

“Millie, please believe me,” he said. “I feel nothing for her. She kissed me and I pulled away.”

“You didn’t pull away. You let her kiss you. I saw it.”

He couldn’t deny it. He knew I was right. He still had feelings for Holly.

I remembered what Alicia had said the other night. That he wouldn’t go back to Holly unless he didn’t have me. I was the only thing keeping them from being together. I was the one keeping Sam from being with the woman he loved, the one he really wanted.

“I’m leaving,” I said.

“Millie, don’t!”

Still sobbing, I went to his bedroom and gathered up my things. I had a bunch of crap in his bathroom so I grabbed a plastic bag and started throwing my stuff inside. I even had tampons in his closet. No wonder he likes Holly better. Holly probably doesn’t even menstruate or take a crap.

When I came out with my feet stuffed barefoot into my sneakers and a big plastic bag filled with my junk, Sam was waiting by the door. He was actually crying. I’d never seen him cry before—not even close.

“Millie, don’t leave.” He wheeled over to me and tried to grab onto my arms but his grip strength wasn’t good enough. “Please, Millie, I love you.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

How could I ever trust him again? How could I ever get the image of him kissing Holly out of my head? Breaking up was the best thing. He might be sad over me for a few days, but then he’ll realize he’s better off with pretty little Holly. He’ll give her a call just for comfort and she’ll come over and they’ll end up hooking up. They’ll get married just like they were supposed to all along.

It’s better this way.

I left the apartment with Sam crying and begging me to stay. In the lobby as I was leaving, I passed the pizza guy.

February 9:

Well, I spent half the day eating and crying and the other half sleeping. My eyes are really puffy. I look like I’m 45 years old. I need to start dolling myself up if I’m going to go start dating again.

(Oh God. I can’t believe I have to start dating again. I’m going to kill myself.)

I know I’m weird but after I woke up from my last nap, I stripped off all my clothes and stared at myself in the mirror. My ugliness is fascinating sometimes. I grabbed various folds of fat, trying to picture what I’d look like without them. I wonder if I should get liposuction. I have the money to pay for it and it might make a difference. Right now, I just can’t even imagine showing another man my body. I am honestly shocked that Sam was able to tolerate me looking this way. He must have had to picture Holly when we were together.

Who am I kidding? I’d never have the guts to have liposuction. They’d probably just screw it up and I’d be left deformed. And let’s face it, suctioning off a little fat isn’t going to make me pretty. I’d need massive plastic surgery for that.

My mirror session got interrupted by a call from Donna. She wanted to know what happened with Sam. “He brought you a zillion flowers this morning,” she told me. “I think he bought out an entire flower store.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“No, but he told me that if I talked to you, I should tell you to call him.”

“I caught him making out with his ex-girlfriend.”