Conversations With the Fat Girl (29 page)

starting. I can't believe what I've just done, but I can't deny how

amazing and free I feel.

"You can't fucking quit." He is so close to me that, for the first time,

I actually feel like he may belt me one.

"I just did." I am so scared. This doesn't even seem like my life

anymore. I think of Marcus Aurelius. What would Marcus do? Right now

he's in a million tiny pieces somewhere in the Getty Museum. Marcus

needs me, goddammit.

"Just because I bust your balls sometimes?" Cole backs away and looks

out into the coffeehouse.

"You bust my balls all the time, Cole."

"I know, I know. I mean . . . you're not quitting because of me, are you?"

"No."

"Good."

"But you're still an asshole." I grab my long black sweater from the

bathroom and fill out my time sheet one last time. Cole is watching my

every move. I take my keys out of my purse and step right up to Cole,

who is standing in front of the door. I refuse to sneak out the back door.

"Excuse me." I look up into his eyes unblinking. I cock my head to the

right and sigh as he takes a full minute to "think about it." Cole steps

aside. I thank him. I walk out into the coffeehouse. I wave to

Christina, who is refilling the sugars. She waves back. Now if I can

just round up all the other Coles in my life, I may be able to quiet

these demons.

236

The More the Merrier

M y first real job was at the Gourmet Donuts in Pasadena. It was a match

made in heaven. I worked nights after school to make a little extra

walking-around money. Some people believe that if you work around a food

long enough, it will become unappetizing. That theory is incorrect.

Doughnuts became my life. I smelled like doughnuts. I constantly found

wondrous flecks of glaze in my hair at the end of a long day. But as is

always the case with greed, I was corrupted by the abundance of the

doughnuts. I started to hatch a plan in which 1 could have all the

doughnuts I wanted without being caught. I knew each employee was

allotted a certain number of doughnuts per day I also knew that certain

employees never ate their share-amateurs. So I would sneak back to the

magical tray loaded with all the doughnut rejects and swipe twice and

sometimes three times my daily doughnut allotment. Three days later,

Jennie, the morning manager, noticed that her allotment of doughnuts was

missing. It didn't take the owners long to follow the flecks of glaze in

my direction. We parted amicably-me and the doughnuts.

After a night of the deepest sleep I've had in months, I meet

237 Mom at the gym for our thirty minutes on the StairMaster. After our

big gym outing, Mom makes me her special kind of coffee and serves fruit

and oatmeal for both of us at her house. I am glowing. That StairMaster

couldn't have been any harder, and I had it on the lowest setting. I

used drinks of water as a ruse to catch my breath. But I just can't deny

how good I feel right now. I had forgotten what it's like to be in touch

with my body. When Kate and I were little we would roller-skate for

hours on our street after school. I feel that young again. I forgot what

playing feels like. As I sit eating Mom's Irish oatmeal, I am bursting

with the news of Joe's, but I just can't quite tell her yet. My speech

isn't perfected, and my courage is waning. My mom is my hero and I don't

know if I can deal with her disappointment right now. I didn't have a

chance to call Domenic, either, to tell him that I quit. I'll tell him

when he comes by to learn about taking care of Solo. He probably won't

hear it from me, anyway Chances are he's already heard every word.

The dreaded day of shopping is here.

Kate honks in the driveway about fifteen minutes later. Mom and I go out

to meet her. I pull open the big, sliding minivan door. Emily and Bella

are sitting in the way back to make room for me. They greet me with loud

laughter and nonstop questions. Everyone knows I get carsick, so they

try to make me as comfortable as possible in cars to avoid the possible

risk of getting vomited on.

"You sit in front of us, Maggie," Emily says, always the hostess.

Mom buckles herself in and says hello to the girlies. They give a

rousing hello back and ask Kate to turn the music back up. Kate has

mastered the balance control on her car stereo so her music is louder in

the back than it is in the front. This makes I he girlies happy, along

with everyone over the age of six who doesn't want to listen to the

latest animated movie anthem.

238 232Liza Palmer

"I quit Joe's," I blurt.

"What?" Mom says. The girlies are suddenly as still as

statues.

"Good for you," Kate says.

"Sweetie, you didn't belong in that place," Mom says. "Aren't you

worried about how my bills are going to get

paid?" I say

"Should I be?" Mom asks.

"I have a plan," I say.

"Would this involve a certain Roman emperor?" Kate asks.

"Marc's Face and Tell Us!" Bella screams. Emily nearly ex-

plodes with frustration.

"I figure I'll hear from Beverly Urban any day now, and if I

don't, I'll find a job with one of those temp agencies until I find

a job at another museum."

"Sounds good," Mom says.

"So you're okay with this?" I say

"Of course. You'll make more as a temp than you ever did at

Joe's, and I don't think you're going to be waiting long for Bev-

erly Urban to get back to you," Mom says.

"So what do you need to get today?" Kate asks. I am breath-

ing easier. According to this family, quitting Joe's is the best thing I

could have done. Apparently, they've been waiting for

this for two years.

I try to hold back the tears. It doesn't matter how much you

tell the girlies you're crying because you're happy. They still think

it's because you're sad. I try to take deep breaths. But I am crying

because I'm happy. Who else has a family that would celebrate quitting a

job? I was bred to succeed. I was bred to stand

atop jungle gyms.

Kate, Mom, and I discuss possible color combinations for

239 Conversations with the Fat Girl233

me and talk about what they might wear. I've been saving money ever

since I found out Olivia was getting married. I wanted to be able to buy

some new clothes for the festivities.

"Who is watching Solo while we go to Las Vegas for Olivia's shower?"

Kate asks.

"I asked Domenic."

"Domenic from the party?" Emily asks.

"Yes. Domenic from the party" I say

"Donemic is crazy" Bella says.

"I think somebody has a crush on Domenic," Kate says, pointing at Emily

"He's nice." Emily laughs.

"He brings sodas and has my same palace," Bella adds. "Yes, he's pretty

nice," I say

"Does he know about Solo's . . . tendencies?" Kate hesitates. "She's

been to obedience classes," I say.

The entire minivan is quiet.

"Yes, he knows about her tendencies," I admit.

We pull into the mall parking lot and unload. I am feeling a little

carsick from constantly looking back at the girls and their demands. We

take the outside escalators into the Beverly Center and begin the search.

As I walk through the stores, I fear I've already let myself down as I

drift to the back of the racks where they hide the bigger sizes. I

should have lost X amount of weight before this day came. But there's a

small part of me that is oddly okay with it. I feel strangely hopeful

that working with Gabriel and writing my food down will finally work for

me. The rest of me, the scared part of me, believes I will probably fail

again. No matter what I buy here today, will I still be seen as Olivia's

fat friend? My cell phone chirps as we are going up yet another escalator.

240 234Liza Palmer

"Hello?" I ask.

"Hey, girl." It's Olivia. I mouth this information to Kate. She

rolls her eyes.

"Hey, there. What's going on?" I ask.

"Wedding mayhem," she says.

"I would suspect," I say

"So Vegas, huh? Did you make all the reservations?" Olivia

asks.

"Yep. Martinis at the Caramel Bar first thing, just you and

me. Then high tea at Petrossian, dinner at Prime . . . shall I go

on?" Mom and Kate are staring at me. I think Kate is asking me to hand

her the phone. I stumble off the escalator. Bella tells me

to be careful.

"No, no. That all sounds great. So I'm going to fly in with

Gwen. Did you reserve a room for us? Did you get her e-mail

about upgrading us to a better suite-one of those villas if they have

one-my Adam said he'd pay for it." I did get that e-mail. 1

made the call, and now this phone conversation is reminding me of one

you might have with a travel agent-not a maid of

honor.

"Yep, got the e-mail. Everything's taken care of," I say

calmly. Kate and Mom are now walking in front of me talking shit about

Olivia in very loud voices. The girlies skip and dance

about ten feet in front of them, oblivious to everything.

"Okay, just making sure. Is there any way you can have the

Bellagio just send me a confirmation e-mail about the villa?"

Olivia asks.

"I don't know if the Bellagio does confirmation e-mails, but

I'll check." Who the hell am I talking to? Or more importantly, who the

fuck does Olivia think she's talking to? "Okay, well, see

you in Vegas, I guess," I continue.

"I can't wait! I wouldn't be surprised if the Birthday Girl

241 Conversations with the Fat Girl235

had an extra-special weekend . . . I'm just saying . . . you might want

to look out for a little something from your best friend, that's all. Do

you want to know what it is?" She is giggling and excited.

"No, I want it to be a surprise," I say, a smile spreading across my

face. I have forgotten, for the moment, about Gwen and her confirmation

e-mail.

"Okay, fine . . . but can I give you a hint? Please, please, pretty

please?" Olivia begs.

"No! Nothing. Not one hint, you do this every year, and every year I

guess! Try to control yourself, woman!" I am now laughing. Mom and Kate

have stopped, mouths open, watching what must look like a reenactment of

Sybil.

"Oh, okay, fine. But it's small and you can wear it. Bye!" she quickly

blurts. I beep my cell phone off and look toward Mom and Kate.

"She is unbelievable," Kate says.

"What was she talking about?" Mom asks.

"She was talking about my birthday present-you know how she goes all out

every year," I equivocate.

"No, the other thing." Mom is stone-faced.

"Oh, yeah." I deflate.

"Yeah, that," Kate says.

"She and Gwen want one of those villas at the Bellagio. She wanted to

make sure everything was set up." I figured it was because I was

bringing Kate that Olivia didn't want to room with me in Las Vegas. Now

I'm not so sure.

"That's just tacky. You don't call your best friend up right before the

wedding and tell her you're sharing a villa with another bridesmaid.

This has nothing to do with you," Kate hisses. Mom looks softly at me. I

concentrate on taking deep breaths.

"I just think . . . I got the impression . . . it just sounded

242 236Liza Palmer

like . . . she didn't even invite me. Like I wasn't . . . or I didn't

want or couldn't fit into . . ." I lose control quickly and start to

cry. This is new; I usually don't start crying until after I've tried

the clothes on.

Kate and Mom rally around and hug me. The girlies run back. I hide my

tears from them as we walk into the first shop and begin searching for

perfect outfits for a wedding I am barely invited to.

I knock on the door to the dressing room Mom has set aside for me. I am

let in by a naked Bella. She's not trying anything on, mind you, she's

just decided to take off all her clothes. Emily is sitting on the floor

putting clothes that have been rejected back on the hangers. Bella