Conversations With the Fat Girl (36 page)

tell someone they fought for you for nothing?

I drop Kate at her house around dusk and finally drive home. We plan to

meet later that night for cake at Mom's house. I dread it already. It is

only then that I remember Domenic. He is waiting for me at home with

something special planned. I don't want to be with anyone right now, let

alone someone I I. . . someone it just hurts to be around. I roll the

window up and slowly drive home.

As I open the door, Solo bounds through the bedroom door and jumps up to

greet me. No Domenic. I set my bag down on the couch and search the

house. No stuff? No man things? Did he forget? I am petting Solo when I

see a handmade card taped to the top of another burned CD. It's

Domenic's writing.

Maggie:

You are cordially invited to spend the evening with one Domenico Brown

who is anxious to celebrate your birthday. Please meet him at Surya

India on Third Street in Los Angeles, where he has reserved a table for

two in your honor. See you there.

PS: Here is a CD of Peter Gabriel songs that are much better than "In

Your Eyes."

See you tonight, D.

292 286Liza Palmer

I set the card and the CD down on the table. I call Mom and ask if we

can do the whole birthday thing tomorrow morning. I'm wiped out, I say.

I can't see Domenic right now. I'm raw and I can't stop crying. I'm not

ready to leave the warmth of this shithole I've lived in for so long.

Numbness and invisibility are so much easier than the train wreck this

whole episode has turned into. I dial Domenic's phone number. I get the

answering machine, thank God. I hear the beep.

"Hey there, we're stuck in Barstow so I'm not going to be able to make

it back by tonight. I hope I caught you in time. I'll call you when I

get in town," I say. My voice is cracking and I can't stop crying. I

turn off the lights and head straight to bed.

He'll understand when I don't show. I just can't. The only thing I can

conceive of doing right now is taking a shower and curling up in bed.

This Friday night is the rehearsal dinner and the wedding is this

Saturday. This is the home stretch. I can finish this.

As I'm falling asleep I hear the phone ring and Domenic's voice. I catch

every other word. "Barstow? . . . safe drive .. . rain check . . .

missed you."

Happy birthday, Maggie.

293

Table Nine

W by did I wake up? Why couldn't I stay in my fantasy world where

Ponyboy fathered all five of my children and my best friend defended me

in bar brawls?

I park the car and walk inside EuroPane for my belated birthday

celebration. I see Emily and Bella propped on benches near the wall with

coloring books. Mom sits with her coffee and fresh fruit plate, and Kate

has a fresh orange juice and oatmeal. I order the oatmeal also and get

my coffee just the way I like it. I sit down next to Bella and stir in

the cream and sugar.

"Are you going to the marrying place?" Bella asks.

"Not yet," I say, sipping my much-needed coffee.

"But you're not getting married," Bella asks.

"No, I'm the maid of honor," I say

"You're cleaning?" Bella asks. Everyone at the table laughs. "How do you

feel?" Mom asks.

"I'm okay," I say

"Kate told me everything on the drive over." Mom spears a chunk of

cantaloupe.

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Liza Palmer

"We are planning how to egg the ceremony from the street." Kate is

drawing fluffy blue clouds on Emily's picture.

"I'm going," I whisper.

"What?" Kate looks up, not losing all her cool, but enough so that Emily

stops drawing.

"Olivia called me after the whole bar fight." I glance at Emily, not

knowing how to conceal that her mommy was dragged out of a bar screaming

the F word.

"Wait. When did all of this happen?" Kate asks.

"She called around three in the morning, I agreed to meet her downstairs

in the conservatory. She started crying and .. . she wanted to give me

my birthday present." I can't take it. Even I think I sound pathetic.

"You gave in? Again? Jesus, Maggie." Kate isn't pissed. It's worse.

She's disappointed.

"Look. It's like we've said the whole time, it's just one more weekend

and then that's it. You don't have to go, but Mom and I will go, and

maybe we'll trip Gwen or something, you know. Come on?" I am talking

fast and praying for a reprieve.

No one says anything. Mom hasn't spoken since her opening lines. I can

hear Bella's crayons scurrying across her page. Kate lifts her coffee

cup and sips. I can feel my temper rising. Aren't these people on my

side? Why do I feel like the bad guy all of a sudden? I'm being noble,

aren't I? Wasn't this the plan all along? It's not like Olivia just

turned into a raving bitch overnight; she's been like this the entire

time. Oh my God-has she been like this the entire time?

"You're on your own," Mom finally says.

"What?"

"I'm not going, either." Mom is staring right at me. I can feel my face

getting hotter and hotter.

"Why? Why aren't you going? You don't . . . can't you just

295 Conversations with the Fat Girl289

go? Why?" I can't hide how upset I am, not even in front of the girlies.

"I just don't know what has to happen. How bad does it have to get? This

has gone way beyond anything any of us thought you would put up with.

And now, you went behind your sister's back and . . . no. You're on your

own." Mom picks up her mug of coffee and softens her face as the girlies

grow quiet.

"Can't you just go to support me? I mean I know this seems crazy, but I

just have to see this thing through, you know? Olivia is my best friend

and she needs me. Can't you just go with me?" Why is this new

information for Mom? She has to go to support me. I'm being the good one

here. I'm being a stand-up person who does what she says she'll do. What

is so horrible about that?

"You don't get it. This is support. I couldn't sit there . . . I won't

sit there and watch as more shit gets piled on you. Even you should be

able to see that."

"I know that. But why am I on trial here?" I look to Kate, who has been

silent as she carefully monitors the conversation.

"It's just got to stop at some point. Olivia used to be your best

friend, Maggie. But you're just not willing to see the person she's

become. No phone call should undo how she's made you feel the last few

years. Don't you see who she's become?" Mom is speaking much too loudly

for the small bakery. Kate and I are used to Mom's indiscretions. I am

silent and crying.

"We'd better get going," Kate says, getting the girls together. Bella

and Emily are quiet. It breaks my heart to see them so conflicted and

frightened.

"You're leaving? Wait . . . please? How . . ." Kate leads the girlies

out the door of the bakery. They all look back through the glass doors.

How could this happen?

Mom approaches, and I can see she's going to hug me. But I

296 290Liza Palmer

can't. I'll burst into hysterical fits of crying if she comes any

closer. The bakery has pretty much emptied out during our show. Just the

employees are watching now.

"What? What?" I sob.

"It has to stop. You're the only one who can do it. I can't watch

anymore." Mom hugs me, and I lean into her. She is reaching up to my

shoulders, and I bury my head in the crook of her neck. I smell her

perfume and allow her arms to make their way around me.

I watch as Kate loads the girls up in the van. Mom has her sunglasses

on, but I can tell she's crying now, too. I look around the bakery but I

can't even muster a brave face for the employees. What have I done? How

is Olivia's friendship worth all this? Maybe the question I need to

answer is not who Olivia has become but who I've become. Or what I've

not allowed myself to become. I sit and sip my coffee until new patrons

come into the bakery All-new patrons. They could infer I came here

alone, not that I was just left by my entire family The wrapped presents

are still stacked on the table.

Over the past few weeks, I've built everyone's hopes up, including my

own, that I'm awake and ready to make some real changes. The internship.

Eating healthy Going to the gym and trusting Gabriel. Even seeing

Domenic as a real man and not imposing "golden" deal breakers on him.

What does he think of me now? I just want to go back to sleep. I want to

turn all of this off and just go back to asking strangers whether or not

that four-dollar coffee is for here or to go. I want to go back to the

time when two old friends were planning a fantasy wedding. But back to

reality. I've got nine messages on my cell phone from Mrs. Morten and

Olivia over the past week begging for help. I fi-

297 Conversations with the Fat Girl291

nally call Mrs. Morten back the day before the rehearsal dinner and am

summoned to the manor.

"Maggie!' Mrs. Morten answers the door before I even knock.

"Hi, Mrs. Morten," I say. I am introduced to aunts, uncles, and cousins

who have flown in from many different parts of the world.

Through the crowd, I see Dr. Adam Farrell sitting in Mrs. Morten's

kitchen with his cell phone in one hand and a slip of paper in the

other. I smile my way through legions of Mortens and wave to Adam.

"Hey there," I say, approaching.

He lifts the phone to his ear and holds up one finger, the international

sign for Just a second. I pinch back my face and hold up both my hands.

The international sign for Sorry

"Yes, this is Dr. Farrell. I was paged." He crumples the paper and

flicks it to the end of the table. I watch as it falls to the floor.

I stand there staring at him and soak him in. He's still as good-looking

as I remember. He would be the type of man you'd see in some glossy

magazine touting the year's hottest bachelors. I can see why Olivia is

so beside herself. Dr. Adam Farrell is the perfect man. But how can he

really know Olivia? How can anyone in her new life really know her? I

mean, isn't she sentencing herself to a fantasy prison, where pain and

authentic memories have no place? What if she has kids-what then? What

if she has a daughter who confides to her that she's having self-image

problems? What then? Will she sign her up for liposuction at ten to get

rid of that unsightly baby fat? If the only thing that matters to Olivia

is how beautiful she is on the outside, what can her life really be about?

"So the long-lost Maggie Thompson surfaces." Adam stands. "Mrs. Morten

called me. I guess she needs some help," I say, ignoring his slight.

"Oh, yeah, that." Adam is now scrolling through his cell

298 292Liza Palmer

phone address book. The bleeps and blips remind me of the casinos in Las

Vegas.

"So how are you holding up, groomie?" I say, trying to make small talk.

"Huh? Did you say something?" And with that Adam dials another

subordinate and hangs up on me. Man of the year, that one. Olivia is a

lucky woman.

"Maggie? Honey?" Mrs. Morten pulls my arm into the center of the family

"Can you still design the seating chart and place cards for the

rehearsal dinner? You know, so people can see where they're seated?" she

asks.

"Sure. Sure. Just give me the board and the cards," I say

"Okay, I guess we have to buy a board and some cards for that. I also

have to find a guest book." I notice she is reading from the cocktail

napkin Olivia wrote on after speaking with Kate at the high tea in Las

Vegas.

"We can probably find those in the same store," I say

"Okay . . . okay . . . we can do that," Mrs. Morten says, rummaging

through her wallet, giving me several hundred-dollar bills and a

crumpled-up sheet of paper.

"Here's some money and the list of where everyone is sitting. Thank you,

sweetie," she says.

I find tiny stationery cards and a guest book at Vroman's Bookstore.

They are silver and gold just as I was told. I am sitting at a stoplight

when I pull out the crumpled list of table placements for the rehearsal

dinner.

TABLE ONE-THE HEAD TABLE

Adam and Olivia Gwen and Jerry Mark and Grace