Imperfectly Perfect (6 page)

Last summer, Tyler and Shane went home to visit their families. They tried, unsuccessfully, to convince me to go. I told them that I just couldn't put myself through the torture, no matter how good the peanuts tasted. They took pity on me and returned the following weekend with a box of airline peanuts in tow. To this day I'm not entirely sure
how
they managed to get a whole box, but my guess was that it somehow involved two stewardesses, two guys, and endless flattery.

My peanuts ran out about a month ago, just in time to give me a little extra incentive for this trip.

Walking off the plane I tried hyping myself up, I didn't want to seem like a Debbie-Downer all weekend. I turned the corner of the terminal to see my mother and my little sister waiting for me, just like two peas in a pod. A stranger probably wouldn't be able to tell which one was my mother and which was my younger sister Elizabeth (or Liz as she was affectionately known). They both stood a little over five feet tall and weighed about one hundred pounds soaking wet.

I, however, had not been quite so blessed with their petite frame and stature. My family always used to joke that I was twice the girl my sister was, thus creating another complex with myself. Now don't get me wrong, I'm no she-man wonder woman. But I do stand at about 5 feet 10 inches, my body toned from years of soccer and running. Basically, I inherited all my father's Sloan genes; meaning that I'm tall and athletic. The only thing I have in common with my mother and sister is our bleach blonde hair.

"EMMA!" They both shrieked in unison.

To add to the irony, and my annoyance, they both have annoyingly high-pitched voices that perfectly match their petite frames.

"So good to see you guys," I muttered, bending over and embracing them both. "I've missed you so much!"

My mom reached up and immediately started smoothing my hair. It was the number one thing that I had always hated. Mother was a perfectionist and she expected the same from her children. Lucky for her, Liz complied with this. She never had a hair out of place or a wrinkle on her clothes; she was a vision, right down to her perfect pearls.

However, Mother's image of perfection was always something that was a little more difficult for me. Growing up I preferred to be dirty, and I continued to like the looks of tousled hair and anyway, it was fashionable. I was far from perfect, and these two
never
let me forget it.

"Honey we wish you would come home more often," she whined.

"You know I can't," I stuttered, swatting away her controlling hands. "For one, it is so expensive. And secondly, I just can't take so much time off from work."

"We know Emma," Liz started to speak while rolling her eyes, "Work, work, work. You never have time for anything else."

I sighed. It had to be a new record. I had been on the ground for five minutes and they had already started in on me. I struggled to force a smile.

"Enough about me," I said, "this weekend is all about Mom and Dad. Let's get home!"

The hour car ride to my childhood home was filled with mundane conversation. Liz talked about her husband Mason, and their house that they had just built. My parents had given them 5 of their 40-acre plot as a wedding gift. So their new house was literally a stone's throw away from Mom and Dad's house. Mason was an architect and had designed it himself. Of course, it was 'perfect'. Liz talked about Mason's new job and how well it was going to pay…

Blah, blah, blah...

I zoned out after about 15 minutes of her mile-a-minute talk.

I'm not sure how long I completely ignored my sister, but I spaced out, taking in the beautiful Maine scenery. Instead of a skyline filled with grey buildings, there was nothing but trees and mountains. I had to admit it was beautiful, especially with all the turning colors of leaves in mid-October and the mountains were painted shades of red, orange, and yellow. But-even though the landscape was breathtaking-I still missed those grey buildings.

"Emma, are you listening to me?" Liz screeched.

"Yeah," I nodded, even though I had no idea what she just said.

"No you're not," she whined. "Mom she's ignoring me again."

"Oh my god, are you twelve?!" I laughed.

Liz crossed her arms, immediately fuming.

I could really get underneath her skin, and she was always a child about it. Tyler thought it was because deep down she was really jealous of me, and that somewhere inside, she wanted the life I had. He always had thought that there was a wild side to Liz, just itching to be set free. The only difference between us was that she was able to contain it better than me. Truth be told, she got to me even worse; I just never let her know it.

I leaned toward the front seat of the car in a fake display of concentration, "Now, what were you saying precious?"

"Nothing you bitch," she huffed, "you wouldn't care anyway."

The car was finally filled with uncomfortable silence, but I didn't really care that I had to piss her off in order to get it.

While trips home were never exactly my favorite thing to do, there were two things about Maine that I absolutely loved. As we pulled onto that familiar dirt road, the first thing I loved came into view. My childhood home, with its picturesque perfectness should be in a magazine because it was absolutely gorgeous, inside and out. An enormous and beautiful three story white colonial, sitting on 40-well 35 now-acres of land, it was quiet and desolate, which made for a relaxing vacation but not a permanent residence. I always told people that Maine was a nice place to visit, and that was about it. That's why it's called Vacationland, not Homeland.

As my mother parked the car in front of the house she honked the horn, just like she always did, and my dad came out to greet us. And there standing on the porch was the second thing about Maine that I utterly loved; Dad. He stood with a huge smile on his face, not saying a word.

"Hey Dad!" I cried wrapping my arms around him. He was so tall that I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach him. I nuzzled my nose into his neck. Just by taking a deep breath of his familiar scent I found myself calmer.

"Hey beauty," he said squeezing me tight, "it's so good to have you home."

I smiled at him and nodded my head because-seeing my dad aside-it wasn't actually that good to be there.

"How are things in the big city Kiddo?" he asked as we entered the foyer.

"Great."

I kicked off my shoes. My mom being the control freak that she was, had many rules in her home, and that was reflected in its immaculate appearance. Rule number one was that you
always
took your shoes off in the foyer.

"Shane and Tyler say hi."

He grinned at the mention of my friends. My father always loved them. They had a special bond, which usually included beer and sports. They spent many days sitting around on the couch in our den, watching sports.

"How are the boys doing?" he questioned while we walked.

"Maintaining status quo," I grabbed my suitcase and made a move toward the grand staircase. "I'm tuckered, I'll catch up with you properly later Dad."

I started up the stairs to get settled into my room, but I was stopped when Liz grabbed me by the arm.

"Go get settled," she demanded, "and change out of those ridiculous clothes of yours because we need to go out back and finish setting up the tent for the party."

"Yes dear," I quipped, pulling my arm from her grip. "And for your information these are not ridiculous, they are Armani."

I continued up the stairs and heard Liz call me a bitch under her breath. I couldn't get mad. I mean, she
was
right.

Once I got into my room I slammed the door shut and leaned my back against it. Finally I was alone with some peace and quiet. I took a deep breath. If it weren't for my dad I would seriously think that I was adopted. I looked around my room and giggled to myself. I had to hand it to my parents; at least they never turned my room into a gym or something. My room was still exactly the way I had left it eleven years ago. The walls were still pink and the patchwork quilt my grandmother had made for me still graced my bed.

I quickly changed out of my red dress slacks and threw on my favorite Under Armour sweats-of course-and then I heard it; the dreaded doorbell. The sound reverberated through the house as a reminder of what was about to be unleashed. And as if on cue, the house was filled with the shrieks and screams of my extended family.

It was the only downfall to my parents' house; its enormous size meant that it was big enough to allow numerous family members to stay with us at one time.

I knew that both grandmothers were staying, and all eight of my aunts and uncles. Yes, my parent's house is
that
big. Do you see now how this is a major downfall? Either way, it was sure to make for a very interesting-and loud-weekend.

"There she is!" All my extended family hollered as I walked into the kitchen.

"Here I am!" I threw my hands up in the air and grinned. I made sure to give everyone a hug quickly explaining that I couldn't talk because I had to help Liz when secretly I was just dodging all their questions and avoiding unwanted opinions.

If there was one thing about my family that you should know, it is that we know how to throw a party. Graduations, weddings, whatever, we go all out. I spent the next three hours out busily working in the tent with Liz and the party planner, decorating and organizing. I was basically just there to carry out orders but I had to admit that once we were done, it looked amazing. By that time it was late and everyone had already gone to their respective guest rooms to rest up for the big party the next day. I snuck into the kitchen and helped myself to a plate of leftover spaghetti. My grandmother had cooked it and I had to hand it to her, there was nothing quite like it. I sat down at the breakfast bar with just the soft glow of the moonlight.

"Hey there Beauty. You like sitting in the dark?"

I turned to see my dad standing in the doorway.

"I like it," I blew softly onto my hot spaghetti. "It's peaceful."

"So," he said, sitting on the stool next to me. "Mind if I join you?"

I shook my head as I stuffed my face, glad to have some decent company.

"I've missed you Emma."

I hated that my father had to be punished because I couldn't get along with the other females in our family. He was the epitome of a family man, and it killed me to think that he was stuck in the middle.

"I've missed you too Daddy," I said. "You should come visit me in the city sometime. You haven't been since I was in college."

"Ahh," he shook his head. "You know the city isn't really my place Beauty. They don't take kindly to fellas carrying around rifles."

I chuckled. If there was anything that my father loved more than his family, it was hunting. He claimed there was 'nothing quite like bringing a wild beast to its knees.'

"Oh, Daddy," I sighed as I scraped up the last bit of sauce up from my plate with a piece of bread.

"I just hope you're happy out there Kiddo."

"I am. I'm super busy, but at least I've got the guys to keep me sane."

"How's work?" he asked.

Of course he was the only one to ever ask me about my job, and I was thankful to finally have the opportunity to share my good news. I quickly told him all about my campaign and that it was already proving successful.

"Good for you," he took a deep breath and stood. "Well, I'm going to bed. I love you sweetie."

"Love you too Dad."

He bent down and gave me a quick peck on the forehead.

"And just so you know," he smiled, "I am
very
proud of you."

Before I could thank him he had already left the kitchen. Even though I knew my dad would support me in anything I did, it was still nice to hear that someone was proud of me and the life I had chosen.

I cleaned up my dinner mess and tiptoed up the stairs to my room. I didn't even take the time to change into my pajamas before collapsing onto my bed. I had successfully survived day one.

The next morning, I was woken by the hustle and bustle of people getting themselves ready for the party. Showers were running, blow dryers whirling and incessant chatter echoed through the house.

Before rolling out of bed I reached for my cell that had been charging on my nightstand. I had three missed calls, all from Shane. Before I even listened to them, I knew that they were nothing more than his infamous drunk dials. Shane was notorious for them; as well as butt and pocket dials. In the course of one night last year, he had managed to call me twenty times when I was at the
same
club as him! It was just the way he operated.

Pressing my phone to my ear, I listened to the voicemails. Club music was booming and all the boys were yelling into the phone. They were so blitzed that I couldn't even understand what they were saying. Laughing I decided that a wake up call to the condo was warranted.

Lucky for me, since Rob refused to get a cell phone, we were probably the only people in New York to still have a landline. He didn't like the thought of being reachable 24 hours a day and I could see why he would feel that; I just don't know how he gets away with it what with being a lawyer and all. The nail in their coffin is that we all have a phone hooked up in our room, and no answering machine. So as I dialed the number, I knew that it would disrupt them all. The piercing rings would echo through their rooms until somebody finally picks up.