Conversations With the Fat Girl (16 page)

We are standing by my bed. I can't help but look up at him for some kind

of answer to what the hell is going on here. My thoughts are jumping all

over the place, starting and stopping. I feel weightless. Then I start

thinking about the heat of his hand and I can't think of anything at

all. The world begins spinning again. I wish I could really appreciate

this. Instead I find myself swaying uncontrollably in front of Domenic

Brown and my own

130 124 Liza Palmer

queen-size bed, saying things I wish I had the balls to say to him

sober. I reach my hands up and set them gently on his shoulders. Domenic

is holding my arms and unconsciously rubbing my elbows. As we stand

there, the sound of his hands on my crisp white shirt is the only sound

in the room. I stare right at him and let him see the truth of what 1

want. If I'm correct, this same lack of inhibition is allowing me to

finally see clearly that he wants the same from me. He looks away and

clears his throat. ?Okay. Let's get you to bed.? Domenic leans over me

and pulls the sheet back on my bed. His hand rests on my arm as he

gestures for me to climb in. ?I'm not gonna hurt ya, you know I'm not

gonna hurt ya. Please, I heard the song. I didn't read into it. I

didn't. I just . . . okay . . . wait wait . . . I guess I did. I guess I

did read into it. I didn't want to I have my hand over his heart. I let

my thumb swipe over the part of his chest exposed by the V-neck of his

dress shirt. His skin is warm. Domenic closes his eyes and breathes in.

The world begins spinning. ?I know. I know. We just need to have this

conversation later when we're all a little less drunk. Just get to bed,

Maggie, please??Domenic sits me down on the bed and gently takes off my

glasses. He puts my legs under the sheet and pulls the sheet over my

clothes. He tucks in bits of the sheet underneath my body He smooths the

fabric over me. I can feel every fiber of my being stand on end as his

hand passes over every inch of me. I get this wave of emotion. I love

the feeling of him touching me. I close my eyes. ?G'night, Maggie. I'll

see you Saturday?Domenic's hand is lingering on my waist. I don't

remember falling asleep. But I remember what it felt like to not be

alone as I drifted off that night. It was the most beautiful thing I've

ever felt.

131 Conversations with the Fat Girl 125

I wake up the next morning exhausted. It's nine thirty; I'm hung over

and more than a little confused about what went on last night. I have

one day to get ready for the big move. I get to the kitchen, find my one

mug, and set up the lone coffeemaker. I have just enough coffee left in

the freezer for my last pot in this house. I grab a filter from an open

moving box. I'm petting Solo when I see it. A little bed made up on the

couch. A couch pillow was pulled down, and the blanket that usually

hangs over the armrest is also pulled down as if someone has just

climbed from beneath it. I look to Solo for answers. The phone rings.

?Hello??I'm suffering a tad from vertigo as I answer. ?Hey Maggie? Were

you sleeping??It's Domenic. For the love of God, it's Domenic. Is this

like the urban legend where the phone call is actually coming from

inside the babysitter's house? Is he still here? ?No,? I say. ?Tomorrow

is the big day and I was just checking in about the time. And . . . and

I wanted to know how you were feeling after last night . . . just minor

details.?Domenic laughs. ?Oh, are you still up for the move??I ask. My

face is flush with embarrassment. ?Why wouldn't I be up for it?? ?I

don't know, I just figured ... I don't know.?I don't have a reason that

wouldn't sound completely insecure and childish. So, best to act like

I'm put out and horrified that he doesn't know why I'm asking. If he

doesn't bring up last night, then I won't, either. ?How are you feeling?

You had quite a night.?Shit. ?I just got really drunk. I never drink, so

I just didn't hold it

132 126 Liza Palmer

that well, I guess. But I can't remember anything.?A flash of Domenic

sitting on my bed hits me like a ton of bricks; he's looking down at me

lovingly. The warmth of his chest. I bite back the memory ?Oh, well. You

just said some things. I didn't know if. you. . . um. . . meant them..

but I guess. . . you. . . Anyway, see you tomorrow?? ?You want to stop

by around eight, we can get everything over to the new house by nine or

ten and then you can be on your way by eleven, if all goes well.?I speak

quickly I get that Domenic wants clarity about last night. So do I. Why

bring a date to a party if you like another girl? It's simple, really

You don't. ?I've set aside the whole day, so don't worry about me.?

Okay, then,?I choke. We are silent. The shock of Domenic holding my hand

floods my brain. I can't believe how stupid I am. Did I call him Lloyd

Dobler? Here's where I have to prove to myself that he loves me, that

last night was all about me and Erin is now completely out of the

picture. This is where I become my worst enemy. ?So who was that girl

you were with?? ?Erin is actually pretty nice. For being a friend of

Christina, she pretty intelligent.? ?That's an achievement.? Domenic is

silent. ?Erin seems like a nice girl, if you like that sort of thing,?I

blurt out. ?Yeah, well. At least I remember my night.?I hear a pencil

tapping in the background. ?Oh, I remember my night. Yeah, I may have

said some stupid stuff, but at least I . . . you know . . . I was there

with people I could talk to.?What does that even mean?

133 Conversations with the Fat Girl 127

?You were completely drunk. You weren't talking to anyone. You slurred

and spit through conversation after conversation, and they slurred and

spit back . . . I don't think you do remember your night.? ?Oh, is that

right? Well, then it looks like we have ourselves a difference of

opinion.? ?Yeah, that's exactly what we have.? ?Well, then,?I stammer.

?Well, then.?The pencil is now almost deafening. ?See you tomorrow??I

yell. I can't think of any other way for me to come out on top of this

conversation. I'm so humiliated. I feel like the stupidest person in the

world. ?Yeah, see you tomorrow.?Domenic hangs up the phone slowly I call

Peregrine before I can think better of it. ?Hey there,?I say

?Hi,?Peregrine says. ?I made the appointment with Sam.?I am openly

sobbing. ?Aw, button, what happened??I can hear Inez in the background

asking after me. Peregrine is shushing her. ?It was this perfect night

and now it's all gone. Wherever we were last night-is awkward history I

just think I've messed it up. But I didn't, you know? Why can't he make

a move, huh? Why is this all on me??I ask. ?Men are idiots, lamb. He

probably convinced himself that you were so drunk, you didn't know what

you were doing.?can hear Inez again. Peregrine puts her hand over the

phone and I can hear her retelling the uneventful story ?So what do I

do??I sniffle. ?Target practice, love. Until you find a man who can

really step up, just think of all these other men as practice,?

Peregrine says. ?Okay Target practice,?I repeat. Target practice.

134 128 Liza Palmer I hang up once again and put my head in my hands. My

whole life is packed up in thirty-six boxes. I feel like I'm right back

in fourth grade-sitting atop the monkey bars. Waiting. Waiting. I can't

face this day right now. I am having flashbacks of last night. I've

never felt so embarrassed and frustrated. I've been up for approximately

eight minutes and already I've had enough. I decide to sleep off last

night. I fall back into bed and try to erase any memory of last night. I

pull the sheet over my shoulder and press my head deep into my down

pillow. I will my brain to turn off. The last thing I feel is my hand

twitch with exhaustion. The last thing I hear is Solo growl at my

movements.

135 CHAPTER ElGHTEEN Pink Pastry Box My first kiss took place on a stage

at my high school during my senior year. His name was Brody Schroeder

and he had psoriasis-but just on his hands. Olivia had talked me into

trying out for the Christmas play that year. I got the part of Ma Joad

in The Grapes of Wrath. The drama teacher told me Ma Joad was a major

part and I should be honored to get cast for it my first time

auditioning for any type of play All I saw was that I was playing an

elderly lady who didn't have to be young or vibrant at all. Who better

than a fat girl to play someone ageless and sexless? The director wanted

Ma and Pa Joad to kiss good-bye at some point during the play It was

supposed to be a peck on the lips to show the bond between the parents

during their trials and tribulations. I remember Brody and I sitting in

the rehearsal hall while the director mapped out the scene. We both

stared straight ahead, not comprehending what was about to happen. We

got up to start blocking and the crowd fell silent. Line. Blocking.

Line. Blocking. Then it was time. Brody slumped his shoulders, took a

step forward, and kissed me softly on the lips. Later that year, he told

me it was his first kiss, too.

136 130Liza Palmer

I wake up from a restless sleep. I kept waking up over and over again

thinking that I wasn't going to be up early enough. I decide to go pick

up doughnuts and take Solo to the huge dog emporium for her

grooming/test drive.

I hand Solo off to one of the emporium employees. She is barking and

chewing her own leash. I wish I had the balls to act like Solo

sometimes. No second-guessing, no fears-she is who she is. The employee

gingerly walks her behind the counter and gives me a nervous wave as he

is tugged uncontrollably off balance. Then I pick up a dozen doughnuts.

I laughingly tell myself the doughnuts are for Domenic and my "moving

team," even though my "moving team" (read: my family) isn't meeting me

until lunchtime at the new house, thereby negating the need for

doughnuts. I ask for a maple bar and a twist on the side. That way I can

eat the two extras on the way home and it will look like I haven't

opened the pink pastry box o'magic.

I have a theory about pink pastry boxes. So much joy comes from those

boxes. When someone walks into a room with a pink pastry box, joy

immediately fills the room. World peace? Three words. Pink pastry box. I

get a big cup of coffee and finalize my plans for world domination.

I pull up to my house and Domenic is waiting for me. I wave and push my

shoulders back. This move is in the same category as the coy head

tilt-makes you look thinner. Now, exiting from your car with a dozen

doughnuts while angling out to make the departure look smooth: That

makes you look fat.

"Hey" Domenic looks tentative.

"I'm sorry. I drank a lot and then I acted like a complete idiot. I'm

sorry It's really nice that you still want to help." I am almost

crushing the box with my fists.

"It's okay. Do you want me to carry any of that?" Domenic is

137 Conversations with the Fat Girl131

trying to commandeer the pink pastry box o'magic. It's intoxicating,

isn't it? You like that?

"Sure. Let me just grab my coffee." How do I reach back into the car

without shoving my ass in the face of my beloved? "Check out the

doughnuts. Do you see anything you like?" I ask. He peers into the box;

I dive into the car and grab my coffee.

"Did you get any of the little cake ones with the sprinkles on top?" I

am taken aback. He is picking past legendary bear claws and humongous

jelly-filled bundles of joy to look for the reject cake doughnuts, which

I, of course, didn't bother purchasing. Leave those secondhand doughnuts

for the suckers who don't have a say in the dozen they buy

"No, I . . . uh. There's a twist in there? Did you see that one? There's

a bear claw?" I beg. We are awkward and uncomfortable. I don't know if

ifs because we're trying to remember or forget last night.

"Yeah, I don't like those. I'll just take glazed." Glazed. Fucking amateur.

We squeeze past the bulldozer. He goes first. I make sure of that. I

open my front door and set the pink pastry box o'magic on the counter

and watch as Domenic enters my house.

"Here we are again," Domenic forces.

"Yep." Target practice. Target practice.

"Nice."

"Thanks. I tend to decorate in modern, forty-eight-hour Eviction Notice

style. Saw it in this month's Architectural Digest." I let out a nervous

laugh, and my coffee spills on the rug. I make no attempt to wipe it up.

"So what does your new place look like?" Domenic mills throughout the house.

"Cute as hell."

138 132Liza Palmer

I realize I've never seen the new house from the inside. The man who