No Such Thing as Perfect (19 page)

“Yeah, that’s the problem, right? I have all this other stuff and I don’t know where to put this right now. I don’t have a place for him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jack,” I say and I give her the quick version. I don’t go into details about his past or his family life, although I do tell her that he has a lot of trouble at home. I briefly explain his situation with Alana, again leaving out the details that are hers, and I finish by describing the night by the lake. “It was perfect, you know? Just at the wrong time.”

“Was it perfect? You’ve spent all this time telling yourself Derek was perfect and look at that. Don’t be unfair to any chance this has to work out. It’s not perfect, but that’s okay. The real question is how do you feel?”

“I don’t know. I’m starting to be comfortable. It’s not only around him, but I never have to pretend with him. Maybe that’s why he made me happy that night. I don’t have to be anyone else.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“But I don’t want to move from one mess into something else. I shouldn’t need him or want him. I should be independent.”

Abby takes my coffee and stands up, waiting for me to follow. She hands it back to me after I stand up and we make our way down the street, with no plan or direction. As we turn the corner into a crowd, she says, “Stop thinking about what you should do and just do what you want.”

We spend the night walking, taking breaks in coffee shops and diners, until it’s morning and we head to Central Park. For Abby, this probably feels common. She’s been places I’ve only imagined from pictures or books, but for me, for someone so obsessed with order, watching the sun slowly wake the city is more than symbolic. I’m still carrying the coffee cup, cold and empty now, like a last souvenir from how things were. All of these recognitions aren’t world-changing; no one is going to start a movement about me and my broken hopes. But I stand, taking in the world as it begins what’s just another day, and I do something I never have: I like myself.

S
uffering through the rest of the break with my mom is easier than I expected, because she seems to have decided I don’t exist. She never listened in the first place, I suppose, but for once, I don’t care. I spend the days locked upstairs in my room and head back to school on Sunday with everything caught up for school. This is the third time I’ve come back to my dorm – after moving in and the long weekend in October – and it’s different. Instead of it being heading back to school, I feel like I’m coming home.

Kristen’s back because her stuff is spread out over her bed and the light’s on, but I don’t see her. She and Lyle were introducing each other to their families this weekend, so I imagine they’re having some kind of parental debriefing right now, followed by whatever else they feel like doing. I turn on music and unpack. Abby’s presents from Europe take up the majority of my extra bag.

My phone lights up and I reach over, assuming it’s Abby to see if I made it back and to make plans. She’s stuck at home and I promised she could come up to visit. It’s not her, though, but Jack.

Happy Thanksgiving. It’s been a while. No worries if you don’t want to talk yet.

I do want to talk. I want to talk very much.

I missed you. Are you around?

Two minutes later, he knocks on my door. I’m smiling when I open it; it’s cute that he was waiting.

“Hi,” he says.

“Come in.” I make room for him on my bed, pushing a box of macarons to the side. Half of Abby’s presents are food-based.

“How was your break?” he asks.

“It was good. It was really good actually. What about you?”

He shrugs. “The same as every holiday.”

“Was it just you and your grandmother?”

“No, just me. My grandmother goes to the prison to spend time with people there on the holidays. She feels like they’re all alone and shouldn’t be.”

“But what about you? You’re alone then?”

“She invites me. I just don’t feel like being there. I’m not sure I’ll ever be in a place where I feel bad about my dad being alone. He put himself there. I only visit him when she makes me feel bad about it, because it matters to her. I figure it’s the least I can do, right?” He picks up my alarm clock and starts fidgeting with it. I’m not sure he knows he’s doing it; it’s a matter of distraction and reflex.

“I’m sorry. That’s a crappy holiday.”

“It’s okay. Alana usually comes over and we usually end up spending it drunk. But her mom met someone and this one... I don’t know. He actually seems like a decent guy so she’s trying to get to know him. She’s more forgiving than I am.”

“I wish I’d known. I would’ve called or something.”

“No, it’s really okay. I did go see my mom – well, her grave. I mean, I go there every weekend, but I like spending time there. No one else goes anymore. Even my grandmother only goes once or twice a year.”

“Wow.”

I reach for the macarons and offer him one, not sure what to say. I kind of understand why people just shove food in your face every time you’re sad. He takes it and his eyes land on the bracelet he gave me. I haven’t taken it off since he gave it to me.

“I never said thank you. Not really,” I apologize.

“You didn’t have to. I’m glad you like it, though.”

I take a bite from one of the other macarons and Jack and I watch each other in sugary silence. Kristen comes back in eventually, sees us, and then leaves with a bag of clothes, making up an excuse about needing to move her car. It’s funny how comfortable I am around Jack and yet how nervous and awkward I feel right now.

“Do you want to go somewhere? Get dinner? Something?” he asks after Kristen leaves.

Packing up the macarons, I move the box to my dresser and clear space from my bed before leaning towards him. He watches me, his hands spread flat against his thighs. His hair, dark and too long, keeps getting in the way of his eyes. I don’t know who reaches across the space first, but it’s gone and his lips meet mine. The taste of the macaron is still on them, sweet and foreign and overwhelming.

“There are things I need to tell you,” I say, “but I don’t want to talk about them right now.”

“I don’t want... I mean, I didn’t come over... You shouldn’t think-”

“I don’t think it. I am completely aware of what happens next, Jack. And yes, I am definitely sure I want it to happen.”

This time, when he kisses me, the voice in my head doubting it is quiet. I lean back with Jack over me. I know where this goes and I’m okay with it. I want to go there, even if we haven’t defined this or explained it. I know he cares and that’s enough. He pauses and looks down at me.

“Lily, I-”

“I know. Me, too.”

Although it’s not new for either of us, everything about it feels new. He tells me I’m beautiful and I feel it when he looks at me. He doesn’t have cheesy lines about sunsets, but his eyes and hands tell me the same thing. When before it felt like an invasion, now it’s equal and it’s amazing. None of the fears I had every other time are present; nothing is present but us and the moment.

With Derek, when it was over, it was just over. It happened and that was it and it felt like being abandoned each time. With Jack, it ends but not really. He holds me and I fall asleep with him. And he’s there in the morning.

****

A
bby comes up to visit a few weeks later, right before finals, and Jack has a show. I promised to cover it for the paper, which was my form of an apology for being MIA for a month. They hadn’t even noticed.

Jack and I still haven’t given anything between us a name. I spend most nights with him, and it feels like enough. But while Abby watches me try to get dressed for the show, everything feels wrong. I’m sitting in a pile of discarded clothing. Kristen gave up hours earlier and told me she would just see me at the show.

“I think I need you to help dress me,” I tell Abby. It’s the invitation she’s been waiting for and she begins sorting through the piles and searching my closet.

“You literally do not own one sexy thing. I know your mom is nuts, but how did I let you go away to college looking like a pilgrim?”

“I think I have a tank top,” I suggest.

“Hopeless.”

She ends up finding an olive green dress in the back of my closet. It’s a hideous thing I’ve never worn. I bought it because it was on sale and I thought it looked good on the mannequin, only to realize that I don’t look like the mannequin. Grabbing a pair of scissors and a black sweater, Abby orders me to strip. I stand in the middle of my room in my underwear while she cuts up my clothes and swears about something. Finally, though, she stands up and comes over to me with the dress. I don’t know what she did, but it looks fantastic. She somehow merged the dress and the sweater into one dress; it looks feminine and sexy and tough and it’s absolutely perfect for tonight.

“Wow.”

“Where am I staying tonight?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. Here, I guess. I mean, I don’t need to stay with him tonight.”

“Yes, you do. You have less than ten days before the semester ends and I think you have some things to resolve. He’s in love with you, you know,” she says. She only met him briefly this afternoon at lunch, but I suppose our feelings aren’t unclear.

“I do know. But neither of us has said it. It feels like... well, it’s definite. And it scares me.”

“I get it, but Lily, I was never a fan of Derek. I didn’t like what he did to you and I didn’t like how afraid you were to be an entire person with him. I don’t think it’s Jack that scares you, though.”

“Then what is it?” I ask.

“I think you’re terrified of being with someone who expects nothing, who truly loves you because you’re you. I don’t think you know how to live up to that.”

I don’t reply, digging through my closet to find shoes. I come up with a pair of black combat boots that I’ve had since high school, but also never worn. Abby thought they looked badass and we each bought a pair, but then we realized that we lived in a town where people only wore combat boots if they were in the military. I don’t even know why I brought them with me to school, other than that maybe a part of me subconsciously envisioned college as a chance to reinvent myself. Regardless, I’m glad I did.

“I’m trying,” I say, when I have the boots laced up and I’m ready to go. “I really am.”

“I know you are. Still, one of these days you’ll realize that the best people are the ones you don’t even have to try with, Lily.”

I
t’s hard to make it to the front; the club is packed. It’s slightly bigger than the last venue where I saw them play, but there are more people now, too. They’re also headlining this show. Jack says they’re not any good, but after the opening band, even more people push towards the front.

“Lily, over here,” Alana calls and she makes room for me and Abby. Kristen and Lyle are sitting on a couch in the back, but they’re happily enjoying the music from there.

When they come on stage, and Jack is suddenly standing inches from me, I have to close my eyes. I need to tell him tonight, to explain what happened before, but also tell him how I feel about him. I know nothing about music, know very little about the band except that it’s important to him, but when I open my eyes and look at him, the concert is just a thing. This is filler. I’ve never been around a person who makes someone else this significant in their life, but Jack makes me the center of his.

I don’t move during the entire show. By the time it’s over, the club is full of energy. Alana introduces Abby to Neil, the singer, whom I guess she knows through Jack. Everyone is talking, but I don’t move. I stand in the same spot by the stage, waiting for him to come back.

“Elinor.”

I kiss him in reply, my hands holding his at our sides. “I don’t think so. Not anymore,” I say when we move apart.

“Everyone wants to head out, to get something to eat. Do you want to come?” he asks.

“I do, but... did you bring your own car?”

“Yeah, do you want to ride with me?”

We make arrangements for Alana to take Abby, Kristen, and Lyle, and the four of them follow the band to the local diner. I tell Abby that we might be a little late and she just tells me to take my time.

“You ready?” Jack asks once the van is loaded with their equipment and everyone heads out. It’s starting to snow, but not enough to stick on the roads. It’s the perfect snow – light enough to make the world magical without interfering.

We drive for a while, holding hands but not talking. There is heaviness in telling him, even though I know he feels the same way. But Abby’s right. Jack looks at me in a way I always wanted to be looked at – by my mom, Derek, people at school. He looks at me like I’m actually perfect and now that I’ve accepted it’s an impossible standard, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint him.

“Let’s stop here,” I suggest. It’s a small playground and it looks like no one has been here in years. We walk to the swings after parking the car and Jack brushes off a clump of leaves so I can sit, before joining me on the other one. He digs the toes of his boots into the light layer of snow and dirt beneath him, drawing lines and patterns.

“I’m really glad you came tonight,” he says. “You look beautiful.”

“I need to tell you, about everything.”

“Okay,” he nods.

“It started with my mom. It was never enough, Jack. If I failed a test, I was a failure for life. I had a dog and...” I can’t talk about Lucy without crying. The tears come before the words. I tell him the whole story, the rules, how easy it was in the spring and summer, but then the math class. I describe the running and how ashamed she was for peeing. “My mom sent her back because I screwed up, but Lucy looked at me like it was her fault. She thought it was because she peed, because she’d let me down. Jack, she was perfect, and I messed up. What if no one came for her? What if they needed to make room in the shelter and she was the unlucky one? All because I was too stupid not to make a mistake. What if...?” I can’t finish. I hate it and it hurts to remember her.

He holds my hand and looks up at me. “That’s horrible, but it’s bullshit. You don’t really still think it’s your fault, do you?”