Conversations With the Fat Girl (27 page)

get to see them in their natural habitat." "Is there much of a difference?"

"Russell barbecuing can be pretty scary. Don't get in the way or ask if

you can help. He's killed people for less."

"Okay, got it." I question whether Domenic is even listening. He thinks

I'm joking, but we've all heard the stories about Russell, an ex-marine

who now specializes in security for the Hollywood elite. Domenic

straightens his pants and looks out his window. The wind blows his wavy

black hair around, and I swear this is some kind of porn made especially

for me. It's like he's in slow motion and ripping open his

renaissance-style shirt to reveal his golden muscular chest.

We pull up to Mom and Russell's and I see Kate's minivan in the

driveway. I panic. What have I done? Am I honestly having this guy meet

my parents? Did I bother to think this plan through? I mean, we're not

dating, we're barely friends, and I decide to bring him home to meet my

family? Am I crazy? How can

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I just walk into my mother's house with this hastily invited guest? But

wait. What's the problem here? No, this is not how it's usually done,

but he said yes and even brought me a present. Maybe this

is just what change feels like? Inviting Domenic to my family's birthday

bash is just like going to the gym or calling Ms. Beverly

Urban-I have to get used to being awake. I pop the trunk of my

car and go back to retrieve the bags of sodas. Domenic is already back

there, lifting them one by one out of the trunk.

"Can you shut that for me?" he asks, lifting his chin to the raised trunk.

"Sure." Sigh. I've done the right thing. Terrifying, but right. You

know, it wouldn't be so terrifying if I knew where he stood

in this whole thing. Why didn't he kiss me? I mean, there we were, music

swelling in the background, his hand at the nape of

my neck, and then screeching brakes, metal-bending crash .. . and

sirens. What the hell happened?

"Hello?" I say, moving through the dining room with Domenic behind me.

"Out in back!" I hear faintly.

I walk through the staging area the kitchen has become. The three

birthday-cake boxes are there on the kitchen counter. Ahh, pink pastry

boxes o'magic. I am calmed. Kate has her

chocolate-on-chocolate-on-chocolate cake. Russell is always a

sucker for the carrot. Then I see mine: a beautiful square pink

angel-food cake wrapped up like a little birthday present with a

real bow and everything. It is absolutely lovely. I smile as I open the

he back door out onto Mom's backyard.

"Don't let the air-conditioning out," Russell says, back turned facing

the barbecue.

I quickly shoo Domenic out and shut the door behind him. We approach the

picnic table much the way a bomb squad would a suspicious package.

222 216Liza Palmer

"You guys remember Domenic from the big move?"

"Sure. Grab a seat and help yourself, Domenic," Mom says.

She is holding a caffeine-free diet soda, and her makeup is perfect. Her

backyard looks amazing. When Mom and Russell first moved into this

house, their backyard was nothing but broken pavement and a field of

blacktop. Mom has turned it into an absolute paradise through pure

Stubborn Workshop and Womanly Wiles. Right off the back of the house is

a pergola laced with ripening grapevines. The top of the pergola has

Italian cafe lights strung end to end. Olivia has long been envious. I

think at one point she even asked Mom if she could use hers. I believe

Mom said something like, "I don't think so, dear." Olivia still asks if

she thinks I can wrangle the lights from Mom. I don't think so, dear.

There is a small, vintage wrought-iron patio set with upholstered

benches and chairs surrounding the main table. If you go farther toward

the back, you come upon a huge raised deck. There's the swing Russell

gave Mom for one of their anniversaries when they didn't exchange shiny

trinkets. The spa is on the very edges of the deck by the hammock. Emily

and Bella are engrossed in some role-playing game by the hammock, moving

terra-cotta pots of lavender to and fro. It looks like they are

pretending to exchange money. Only young women would fantasize about

shopping.

The table is set perfectly. Tiny silver vases hold single sprigs from

Mom's cutting garden. There are plates of fruit and vegetables and

assorted bowls of dips. Kate and Vincent are sitting on the other side

of the table. Vincent is working on the tortilla chips and salsa. Kate

has her sunglasses on, but I still feel her eyes boring into me.

"We brought sugary sodas, Vincent," I say

"Ooohhhh, it's like high school vending machines all over again,"

Vincent says.

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Domenic puts the bags on the ground next to the cooler and begins to set

the sodas inside. He hasn't said two words since we

got here. He brings over some pineapple-orange concoction and presents

it to Vincent.

"This is still pretty cold from the store," Domenic says.

"Why, yes it is," Vincent says, cracking it open and taking a giant swig.

"We have about ten minutes until the meat is ready," Russell says.

"Which means ten additional minutes for everyone who doesn't like their

meat blood-raw," I say

"That's one," Russell says, back turned facing the barbecue. "I've got

one," I say to Domenic.

"One?" he says as he cracks open his own pineapple-orange concoction.

"Russell likes people to think that they've only got three

chances. After that, he's not responsible for his actions," I say, smiling.

"That's two," Russell says, back turned facing the barbecue. I hold up

two fingers and smile.

"That's three," Russell says, back turned still facing the barbecue.

"Emily! Bella! Dinner's ready" Kate says to the fully enthralled little

girls.

They run over and crumple into my arms. They are obviously dressed in

outfits they put together themselves. Emily is wearing a blue jumper

with a necklace ending in some type of green perfume in a vial. She is

wearing pants underneath her dress and tops all of this off with a pair

of lavender socks and pink sandals. Bella is wearing a tiny floral dress

that shows off her cartoon panties. She also has on a diamond tiara and

the ever-present red cowboy boots.

224 218Liza Palmer

"Hey, crazies," I say

"You're crazy," Bella says in that smoker's voice of hers. "Why did you

bring him?" Emily asks, her finger one inch from Domenic's face.

A hush falls over the crowd.

"I brought the sodas," Domenic says with a wide smile. I find myself

dopily smiling right back at him. It's so freeing not to second-guess

every single emotion I have. I just wish I could look just a tad more

intelligent.

"Oh," Emily says, slowly checking him out head to toe. "Where did you

put 'em?" Bella asks, picking her nose.

"In the cooler. With the ice so they can get cold." Domenic

is trying not to notice Bella's social faux pas.

Russell begins to plate the meat from the barbecue, and the family

settle into their seats. Bella picks at everything and eats only one

dinner roll. Emily is a more adventurous eater. She tries the seared ahi

tuna, as well as the grilled vegetables. Domenic helps himself to the

meat but steers clear of the vegetables. He also ends up mostly eating a

dinner roll.

"You and Bella seem to have the same palate, son," Russell

says.

"She's got good taste," Domenic says.

"For a six-year-old," Russell says. Domenic sneaks a small wink at

Bella. She giggles and points at Domenic, crumbs of bread flying out of

her mouth. "Donemic . . . Donemic has my same palace!"

We begin to clear the dishes and get ready for cake and presents.

Domenic and Vincent have begun talking about some new show coming to one

of the networks in the fall. It's all the rage, I guess. Emily and Bella

have gone back to their role-playing as Russell begins to clean his

beloved grill. I am left alone in the kitchen with Kate and Mom. Trapped

like a rat.

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"How was the interview?" Mom starts in.

"Amazing. Fabulous. Everything I could ever want." I am whipping up the

cream for strawberry dipping. Do I have to write down the whipping cream

in my food journal if I swipe some from the bowl?

"How do you think it went?" Kate slams the utensil drawer. "I think it

went great. I just feel so . . . weird." I can't describe it any better.

"Weird? Weird, 'cause you're finally putting yourself out there, or

weird because of little Mr. Maggie's New Boyfriend out there?" Kate is

pleased with herself as she leans back on the counter.

"Kate, get the candles and start putting them on the cakes and give your

sister a break." Mom is pointing to the grocery bag with one eyebrow

raised. Kate jumps.

"Weird, because it just seems like all of this stuff is happening at the

same time-the internship, going to the gym, Domenic, and all this stuff

with Olivia. Even work is getting so boring . . . I feel like I don't

belong anywhere." I lop a spoonful of the whipped cream in a

Depression-glass bowl Mom pulls from the cabinet.

"You're finally caring about what's going on in your life. It's not all

totally random, here, honey" Mom adds fresh mint leaves to the sun tea.

"Yeah ... I guess." I lick the whipped cream and set the empty bowl in

the sink. What am I going to write down, "Lick of whipped cream"?

"Can I talk now?" Kate has put close to a thousand candles on the cakes

during her silent tantrum.

"Oh, for chrissakes, Kate." Mom laughs.

"I got your 'Save the Date' e-mail," Kate says, turning to me. "Oh,

Olivia wanted to invite you even though she thought

226 220Liza Palmer

you probably couldn't make it. She already feels bad that you

guys have to find a babysitter for the wedding," I say. "I think I'm

going to go to the shower," she says.

"Really?" I say

"What about the girls?" Mom asks.

"They do have a father," Kate says.

"Is he okay with that?" Mom asks.

"Why wouldn't he be okay with watching his own chil-

dren?" Kate asks.

"He's been working long hours lately," Mom says as she

looks through her drawers for a cake knife.

"I'll set up some playdates. Emily has a sleepover that week-

end anyway I'll set one up for Bella as well, so he can have a

whole weekend to himself," Kate says, hands on her hips.

"That sounds great. I've already reserved a suite, and we can

drive together," I say

"Drive?" Kate asks.

"We are not flying, I can't. I planned on driving. If you want

to go with me, you're going to drive, too." My heart rate acceler-

ates as I imagine flying.

"Have you ever thought your fear of flying is just a ruse so

you don't have to travel?"

"That doesn't even make sense," I say

"Sure it does." Kate licks the icing off her cake.

"I went to Washington, DC."

"Yes, you're right, then. You've been everywhere," Kate says,

lifting each cake out of its respective box.

"Can we get these cakes outside?" Mom asks.

"We have to shop for clothes for the wedding and shower

soon," Kate says on her way out the back door, her cake in her hands.

227 Conversations with the Fat Girl221

"We'll plan for that sometime this week. I hear there are amazing shops

at the Beverly Center," Mom says.

"So we'll plan to go there on your next day off," Kate says. "Sounds

good," I say, already dreading that day

"And don't think we've let you off about your little friend out there.

You might even get a breakfast invitation for that little stunt," Kate says.

Kate is known for breaking earth-shattering news after inviting us to

breakfast. Mom and I found out that she and Vincent were getting married

over bagels at Noah's Bagels in Hastings Ranch. We found out about