Imperfectly Perfect (5 page)

I was sitting on the futon when the door burst open. I glanced over to see Emma stumble in, her arms full with two cases of Blue Moon and work things.

"A little help please. . ?!"

I immediately hopped up from the futon and grabbed the two cases of beer from her hands. "I see you've made a full recovery."

Stepping inside she dropped her portfolio and purse onto the ground. She paused for a moment and glared at me. I laughed to myself knowing that I was ticking her off.

"Aren't you going to ask me how today went?" she questioned.

"Today… today?" I toyed with her, "what was going on today?"

She huffed and I couldn't stifle my laughter any longer. She playfully slapped my chest as she stalked past me into the kitchen. "You're such an asshole."

"So tell me about today." I demanded as I placed the beer cases into the fridge while grabbing two for ourselves. "These could signify two outcomes. We're either celebrating or drowning our sorrows."

Emma grabbed a bottle from my hand and smiled as she flicked off the cap. "Oh, these are celebratory for sure."

I took a sip from my beer. "Tell me more."

"Well not only did I nail my presentation but they offered me the promotion as well!"

Immediately I flung my arms around her, picking her up off the floor. I was so happy for her. She had worked hard for so long and it was finally paying off. "That's amazing Em!" I put her feet back onto the ground and dropped my arms. "So how do you suggest we celebrate?"

She gave me a devilish look and I knew exactly what she was thinking.

I groaned. "Awwww man, no Em. I don't want to do that!

Immediately she dropped her head and gave me one of those stupid looks. Her lips formed into a pout with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Even though I knew it was one of her tricks-and I hated it-I just wanted her to be happy.

"Fine! Alright! Just stop making that stupid face!"

"Dance Party Friday is baaaaack!" she yelled as she went into the living room and immediately began moving furniture out of the way.

I watched her from the doorway in the kitchen. Rob appeared, curiously watching her busily rearrange the living room.

"Oh shit," he said stalking down the stairs, "looks like Dance Party Friday is back. Obviously you nailed it today, huh Em?"

I watched them slap a high five as Rob stalked by, heading towards the kitchen. I heard the clinking of glass behind me and I already knew what he was up to. My assumptions were affirmed as he brushed past me with three glasses, each filled with a double Jägerbomb. Emma squealed with delight as she turned the music on. Sometimes I felt that they were more alike than either of them admitted; this being one of those times.

"Shane, come do a shot with us!" She commanded.

I laughed as I joined them in the center of the room. Rob pushed the shot glass into my hand.

"To Emma!" Rob and I said as we clinked the shots together.

"To me!" She shouted throwing the drink back with one swift movement. I already knew what kind of night it was going to be.

We had been at it for few hours when Tyler arrived home from work. He looked like it had been a rough broadcast for him and I could tell he was about as excited about Dance Party Friday as I had been.

"Come dance with us!" Emma shrieked. "We're celebrating my promotion!"

Tyler shook his head. I could tell that he was considering turning around and going back to the station.

"Don't be such an old man!" She yelled over the music, while continuing to shake her hips to the beat.

"Yeah," Rob slurred as he passed Tyler a beer, "don't be a fuck stick."

"There he is," Emma cried as Tyler started to loosen and bob his head. "Oh my god – let's do the dance!" Emma jumped up and down clapping her hands together excitedly.

Tyler and I groaned as we remembered the dance. It was not one of our proudest moments, but at the time we had thought it would be a brilliant way to send us out of high school. We had choreographed and practiced it for weeks, perfecting our moves until finally unveiling it at our senior Prom. At the time it was awesome, but now at the age of 30, it just seemed ridiculous.

"Oh, come on you guys," she pleaded while grabbing our hands to form us into a line, "it's just us and Rob. Besides, 'Jump on It' is playing!"

"Yeah, I want to see this," Rob chimed taking a seat on the floor.

We all turned our backs to Rob. Emma smiled giddily, and started the count. 1…2….3. I hated that I had somehow been talked into it yet again but there we were, throwing our bodies around, perfectly synchronized just as we had all those years ago. By the time we finished we were all laughing hysterically.

"We've still got it," I huffed, "but damn I'm out of shape." I walked over to the stereo and turned it off.

We all plopped onto the floor and silently sipped our beers.

Rob broke the silence. "Who's making dinner?"

We all looked to Emma jokingly. We frequently liked to tease her about her lack of womanly abilities. She could keep up with us on the soccer field, but when it came to the kitchen she was at a loss.

"I think you mean who is
buying
dinner," she rose from the floor grabbing the menus from the basket on top of the fridge. She tossed them into my lap.

"Your pick," she said. "I'm going to take a shower."

I know that as a thirty-year-old man I should have probably wanted to settle down. I shouldn't be satisfied with living like a college kid. I should have been craving a change in life. Yet, I was happy. And in my honest opinion I believed that we had it all right there in our condo. How could life get any better?

Packing for a trip has got to be one of the hardest things to do. I always chose the wrong clothes. If I packed shorts and tank tops, it ended up raining. If I went with sweatshirts and pants, I could be sure that it would be sweltering hot out.

I especially hated packing for trips back home to Maine. This was for various reasons, but most importantly my wardrobe did not include hip waders, flannel shirts, or any blaze orange. Because of this, whenever I arrive in town and walk around in Calvin Klein, Juicy Couture or Jimmy Choo, I don't really blend in. I guess you could call it the 'small town girl living in the city' curse.

Not only was packing for Maine hard, it was also the last thing I wanted to be doing; especially now that things at work were just starting to get busy with my new Under Armour gig. I hated the thought of having to take time out of the office, but as I had put my request in long before my promotion, Craig and Jimmy insisted that I still take it. Besides, I didn't think my family would appreciate me ditching a huge event like my parent's wedding anniversary, and I really didn't need to give them any more ammunition.

I grew up in a very small town in Maine. It was the type of place where everyone knows your name, family tree and, most importantly,
all
your business. Growing up I was a total tomboy, in fact I hated girls. I thought they were too prissy and stupid. So growing up my best friends were boys; namely Tyler and Shane. We would climb trees, go fishing and play soccer.

Soccer was our passion, our outlet; our everything. We played everyday, and to us it was simple stress relief. If one of us were ever upset, the other two would take them to play soccer. So naturally by the time we all got to high school we were pretty good. We were courted by colleges across the county, but it had always been important to us to choose a school that we could attend together.

Let me tell you that it definitely wasn't easy to find something that all three of us loved, but we eventually did. New York University, the place where dreams come true, well at least for us. We had always known we wanted to leave Maine, and we thought the complete 360 of going to the most fabulous city in the country would be fun.

With Rob by our side as our typical 'loose cannon' friend, we had more fun than we should've. Everywhere he goes he seems to get into trouble. The positive to that is he always has a hell of a story to tell. For instance, one of the many times that he got completely trashed he decided to streak the streets of Manhattan. He ended up in the drunk tank, but his recounts of that night never get old. The boy can tell a killer story.

Our time at NYU flew by. The games, the parties, the boyfriends, the girlfriends, the heartaches, and the lectures were nothing but a memory now. But we were there for each other through it all.

"How's it going Em?"

"Good," I looked over my shoulder to see Shane standing in my doorway smiling. "I guess I'm almost done. Who's taking me to the airport?"

"I think I am," Shane stalked into my room, sitting down on the edge of my bed, running his fingers through his light brown hair. "Tyler has to work late and Rob is still sleeping off last night's party."

"It's Thursday," I shook my head and laughed, "He went out last night?"

"Yeah I guess it was one of his old high school friend's birthday."

It shouldn't have surprised me that Rob went out during the week because he never did need much of an excuse to find a reason to party. To be honest, I didn't even know how he kept his job; let alone how he continued to climb the ladder within his firm. Shane had once told me it was due to his mastery of words when in court. Shane had seen him in action and claimed that Rob could persuade anyone to do or believe anything.

I zipped up my suitcase and fell backwards onto my bed in defeat. "Do you think my parents would be
that
upset if I decide not to go? You used work as an excuse; maybe I could do the same."

"It won't be that bad Killah," he reached over and patted my leg, "it's only four days, what's the worst that could happen?"

"You do realize you are talking about my family Shane."

My family was notorious for criticizing my lifestyle choices. They didn't understand why I wanted to continue living in the city after my collegiate graduation and they especially did not understand-or support-my decision to live with three grown men.

Now, let me clarify. When I say 'they' I pretty much meant my sister, my mother and all the women in my family. My father had always been supportive and the other men in my family just didn't care. There is something about Maine women that makes them think a woman goes to college to find a husband, not to get an education. They just don't understand the whole "independent woman" routine.

Now, by now you know I'm a pretty confident person. I mean I truly loved my life. However, when you constantly get beat down you do start to second-guess yourself.

Shane shook his head. "I understand that Em, but you've got to stop letting them get to you."

"I know," I stared at the ceiling. "But maybe they're right; maybe it is time for me to 'grow up'".

"Em, you
are
grown up. You work at an advertising agency, you get a paycheck, and you have a condo. Who cares if you're not married and popping out babies?"

"Easy for you to say. It's more acceptable for a man to be thirty and unmarried. A woman has a biological clock and shit."

"And shit? Very technical!" he said, standing up from the bed. "Now finish packing, and quit stressing; it's not good for your wrinkles."

He laughed as I popped up and flipped him the bird.

An hour later Shane was pulling into the United terminal. I couldn't help but feel sick to my stomach. For one, I hated flying; secondly I just absolutely despised going home. It was always so boring and I couldn't stand that my family gave me nothing but grief over how I was living my life.

'You need girl friends'

'You should look into another career',

'The city is so dangerous',

'When are you going to settle down?'

I loathed it all and, even though I loved my life, as I approached my thirtieth birthday I couldn't help but wonder if
maybe
they were right.

"Thanks for the ride Shane." I muttered as I slid out of the car.

"No problem Em," he smiled.

I bent down and peeked into the car one final time, "You sure you don't want to come with me?"

He shot me a look and grinned, "Nah, I'm all set with cow-tipping this weekend. Have a safe trip. Tyler and I will pick you up Sunday!"

I slammed the door shut and grabbed my suitcase. Walking towards the check-in counter, I noticed that the line of people extended out the door. Of course it would, that was just my luck.

Absolutely perfect.

As I stood and waited, the only thing I could hear in my mind was all the rotten things my mother would have to say to me on this trip.

By the time I got to the counter I was so pissed off, I could spit fire. It didn't help that the lady behind the counter seemed to have had one too many Red Bulls. Unfortunately for her, her energy and general peppiness reminded me of my sister and I struggled to keep my bitch side at bay.

Once I finally checked in, I wiped the sweat from my forehead. It was hard work to fight my evil side, but I had prevailed and blondie got to survive another day.

Thankfully, due to the fact that the flight to Maine is relatively short, my journey went by fast and without incident. There was just enough time for the flight attendants to get out the snack carts and serve everyone. Thank goodness, because it was really the only reason I flew. The only good thing about any flight was the airline peanuts. I had always loved airline peanuts; you might even say that I had a borderline romantic relationship with them. I can't explain it but for some reason they just seem to taste better to me than the regular peanuts you can buy at the grocery store.