Conversations With the Fat Girl (15 page)

little vignette, but right now all I want is another drink. ?I'm heading

up for another one. What are you drinking??I ask Cole. ?Seven and Seven.

I'll go with you.? Cole stands up, straightening his shirt. Maybe Cole

is sorry for what he said. Maybe the reason I'm here tonight is to make

something happen with Cole? Domenic? Screw Domenic. He couldn't care

less. Cole might secretly like me. too. He did call me little one time.

?Fuck these bitches.? Cole waves his arms over the table and turns to

follow me. He's burbling something about ?big-ass

122 116 Liza Palmer

titties?when I snap out of my trance. I grab my wallet from my purse and

sneak a peek at Domenic. My ?peek?becomes a slow- motion stare. He is

sitting back with his arm around Cole's now vacant chair. He looks good.

He did something to his hair. I don't know what it is but he looks

amazing. He is wearing a light blue dress shirt under a dark blue V-neck

sweater. The shirt is not tucked in and falls below the sweater. It

complements the khaki pants that actually fit his lean body He dressed

up for this girl. I walk to the bar with Cole and catch a final glimpse

of him saying something to Christina in confidence while Erin does her

best to act like she doesn't notice. ?Can I have a Kamikaze shot,

another Amaretto Sour, and a Seven and Seven, please??I ask Ronald

Reagan behind the bar. ?Kamikaze, huh?? Cole finds a few bar stools and

plops himself down, pulling a bowl of pretzels over. ?I'm a little

thirsty?I lie. What I am is a little fucking fed up with being the other

girl. Erin is over there having a normal night, being set up on a date

by her girlfriend and on her way to having a wonderful time. The guy

likes her because she is cute and small, however pockmarked she is.

They'll get married and have little zit-faced kids together. I down my

shot and breathe in quickly 'Can I have a sip of yours??I ask Cole,

who's genuinely thrown by my uncharacteristic behavior. 'You can have

it.?He slides the 7 and 7 over and asks the bartender for another. I

down his drink. I pull mine over and bring it to my lips. ?Are you

okay??It's Peregrine. Thank God. I might have shared my feelings with

Cole if she hadn't shown up. That would have been frightening and

awkward for both of us.

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?I'm fine,?I slur. I have never had so much to drink in such a short

time before. I feel drunker than I've been in a long time and even more

hopeless-a magical combination. It's taken exactly thirty minutes. Why

did I even come? There's always an Erin. ?What do you need??Peregrine

strokes my hair while trying to block Cole's view of us. It gives me a

false sense of privacy. Partygoers are beckoning Peregrine to the dance

floor. She waves them off. ?I need you not to tell me I'm better off

without him. I need you not to tell me that she's a silly little

whore.?I stare at her. ?She needs some coffee.?Domenic is suddenly

standing over me and even in my drunken stupor I panic that he's heard

too much. ?Puddin', go on back to your little date.? Peregrine tries to

shoo Domenic. Her first instinct is to protect. I am her cub tonight and

she perceives Domenic as the orange-vested hunter who has me in his

sights. He steps forward. ?She needs to go home.?His face is distorted

like he's behind a fishbowl. ?Your little date is wonderin' where ya

are, why don'tcha head on back,?I slur. ?She's fuckin' smokin' hot,

man.? Cole wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and raises it so

Domenic can give him a high five in celebration of his ?smokin'

hot?find. Domenic doesn't even look at Cole. ?Maggie? Come on.?Domenic

grabs my arm. ?Leggo. Pickie Pock Mark wants a drinkie,?I manage,

pointing back at Erin. Peregrine stands back, and I can see her mind

working. Or maybe that's what's happening. Let's face it, how credible

am I at

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this point? Inez pulls closer into Peregrine as the thought finally

cements. I look to the back table and Erin is staring over at us. It

seems Pickie Pock Mark is getting jealous. ?D. Browm hittin' it with the

hotties,?Cole says to no one in particular. ?I'm the only sober one

here. Let me handle this. Fm sure you'll let Erin know why I've left,

and there are so many people no one will even notice we're gone.?Domenic

moves close to me. ?Maybe you should take her home??Peregrine toys. Inez

smiles. ?I wanna go home.?I lean back into Domenic. He puts his arm

around my shoulder. I ?secretly?smell Him. Domenic steadies me with his

arm and grabs my purse. I can see Inez lean back into Peregrine.

Peregrine is whispering wildly into her ear. Another pack of partygoers

drags her and Inez onto the dance floor as we're leaving. The last thing

I see as I'm walking toward the stairwell is Peregrine standing on top

of the bar, reaching down for Inez as Modern English's I Melt With You

pounds in the background. I wobble into the stairwell of the museum in

the arms of Domenic Brown. I can smell his shampoo from where I am

leaning on his shoulder. And I am leaning, which is freeing in one way

and completely horrifying in another. The world is spinning. I wonder if

I'm really leaving the party with Domenic. I'm not so sure. I look up

and stare right at him-every inch of him. The black stubble on the

bottom of his chin. His long black eyelashes. He ha a cut on his neck,

probably from shaving. His skin is blotchy in patches, but on the whole

it definitely clear, unlike some people. Echem. His lips are chapped

right at the top, but puffy and full in general. Pink. Very pink.

?You've got good skin. Pink lips,' I burble.

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?Thanks. Are your keys in your purse??Domenic stands me up and rummages

through my purse, looking for my keys. ?My keys are in my purse. Are you

driving my car?? I am swaying back and forth. I am screaming inside my

head, trying to stabilize. ?I'm going to take you home. Is that

okay??Domenic retrieves the keys and comes over to me. I stare at him

again. Is that chest hair? Interesting. I'm noticing now that he's

wearing a buttondown shirt as opposed to a T-shirt. He is angling his

body to lead me across the street to where my car is parked. But, always

on the alert, I cunningly deduce that he's leaning in for a kiss, so I

pucker up and wait. I'm now on some corner in Pasadena kissing the air

in front of Domenic Brown.

126 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN No, in Your Eyes, Lloyd Dobler The first crush I

can remember was in fourth grade. His name was Josh and he had

strawberry-blond hair in a classic bowl cut. In the days before Olivia,

when I wasn't on the edges of popularity, I found solace on the monkey

bars. Not the act of going across the monkey bars, but sitting atop

observing the landscape of the playground. One fateful day, Josh corn-

up below me and stole my shoe-a slip-on Van (blue and yellow). Even then

I remember thinking-This is it. He's now my boyfriend. The whole shoe

thing? Elementary school foreplay. After swooning for far too long, Josh

returned the shoe-okay, threw the shoe up at me as he yelped ?Weirdo.?My

knight in shining armor. I climbed atop those monkey bars for the

remaining seven months of fourth grade. I never changed shoes-thinking

somehow it was the intoxicating blue-and-yellow slip-on Van that drew

him to me like Circe's call. You'd think after over fifteen years, I

would have come down off those monkey bars. Domenic is soooo gentle.

Wow, those lips are soft, I can't believe this is happening to me.

?Babe, we've got to get you in the car.' Did lie just call me

127 Conversations with the Fat Girl 121 babe? Was I kissed? His hands

are on my shoulders and he is softly shaking me. I believe I have fallen

asleep. I put my hand out to balance myself, and the coldness of the

Street sign shocks me. ?Babe? I'm not your babe. Pickie Pock Mark is

your babe. You're all fancied up for her, forfuckssakes I believe there

is, in fact, my own drool on my chin. Yes. . . yes it is. ?I'm here with

you. Can you make it to the car?? What? Without throwing myself at you?

?Yeah, I think I can conshrol messell,?I slur. Domenic and I walk across

the street together like we're in a three-legged race. He opens the car

door for me and I climb in. My car looks different from this angle.

Domenic opens the driver's-side door and eases himself behind the wheel.

?You're taller than I thought you were.?Domenic adjusts the mirror and

puts the key in the ignition. I pull my seat belt around and come to the

realization that I'm far too drunk to be witty I'll just sit here and be

quiet. I won't say another word and maybe I won't humiliate myself any

further. I search my memory for evidence that Domenic and I kissed. I am

deep in thought, feeling my own lips, as Domenic signals and pulls out

onto the street. Surprisingly, I am able to direct him to my hack house

with little difficulty while keeping my witty banter to a hare minimum.

Domenic Brown is coming over to my house. I don't care what the

circumstances are. He's coming over. I am starting to get unbelievably

thirsty, and my eyes can no longer stay open. I roll down my window and

allow the fresh air to revitalize me. I look like someone's dog. Domenic

finds parking on the street in front of my house. ?Just take the car.?I

heave myself out. ?One step at a time. First, let's get you

inside.?Domenic takes my hand as we cross the busy street. It feels so

natural and

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Right. His fingers curl around my hand, and I can feel the heat of his

body soaring up through my arm. I have never touched Domenic before.

Sure, we've bumped into each other ?accidentally.? I have stood next to

him and quietly smelled him. Maybe there has been some fantasizing that

could be considered virtual touching. But this is the first time we've

actually touched on purpose for a prolonged period of time. I feel

places tingling in me that I didn't know existed. I can't think

straight. I hold his hand back.

?Which key opens the front door??Domenic opens the screen door and holds

up my key chain. I try to stabilize myself on the bulldozer and

concentrate on the keys. I'm completely distracted by the hand holding.

I can't seem to focus on anything but Comenic's amber eyes.

?You can ask for it if you want, you know ?as the days go by and by and

byyyy.?I can't fathom why I choose these words in response to his key

query.

?What? Maggie, I am asking you.?Domenic is trying each key in the slot,

figuring this method will take less time.

?Oh not that. In the song. The song on your CD. I'm not gonna hurt ya.?I

lean in; he tilts his head into me. I proceed to stage whisper: ?I heard

the hidden track on the hidden track CD.? I am tapping my head on the

side and winking elaborately at him to let him know he's a genius for

thinking up such a concept.

?Yeah, well.?Domenic finally gets my front door open and Solo begins her

barking, growling and running-away routine. He seems a little startled

but continues into the house.

?G'grrrl?g'grrrl.?I approach Solo and try to calm her down.

?Nice place.?Domenic puts my keys on the counter and sets my purse on

the floor. The entire house is packed up in thirty-six boxes.

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Conversations with the Fat Girl 123

?Thanks.?I go into the bathroom to take out my contact lenses with the

exacting hands of a surgeon. I have taken my lenses out in darkened

movie theaters and on amusement rides. Now I can add drunk to this

imprssive list. I am putting on my glasses as I come out of the

bathroom. Domenic is standing in the living room, letting Solo smell

him. I start uncontrollably jabbering.

?I get it, you know. I'm the girl in the window and you're Lloyd

Dobler?and that song is just a good song?but then I think you're trying

to tell me something. You know? That thing. That?it's so hard to tell

someone right to their face?and I get it. I talk that way, too.?My arms

are raised above my head as an homage to Lloyd Dobler and Peter

Gabriel's ?In Your Eyes?, one of those climactic movie moments where the

wallflower hero finally leaps past his comfort zone to profess his love

for the impossibly popular, yet astonishingly available, love interest.

Domenic approaches me slowly, pulling my arms down into a normal position.

?I'm not Lloyd Dobler and I think Peter Gabriel's 'In Your Eyes' is

highly overrated. But you are the girl in the window, so let's just get

you in bed so you can sleep this off. Domenic leads me through my

bedroom door. I don't know whether to be terrified or excited. I am a

little of both. I take my boots off. Thank God, my socks are

respectable. This whole thing could have gone really bad really fast.