Impractically Perfect: A Romantic Comedy Page 14

  That night was the last time I remember seeing him looking so healthy; after that, he quickly started losing weight, and became too weak to even leave the house. I was too young to really understand how sick he was. He had been only a few weeks from graduating with his PhD in psychology when he died.

  Now, Cassiopeia was looming outside my window, and that night of the shooting stars loomed in my memory alongside it. I didn’t know if my dad had known how bad his cancer was yet, or if he had been taking me to see the stars “just because.” But it didn’t matter. That was the single memory of my father that I held dear above all else.

  What I did know was that somehow, some way, Dad suddenly being gone was my fault. I didn’t know what I had done wrong, but it had to have been something. So from that point forward, I made up my mind never to mess up again.

  So I took over. Everything. I cooked, I cleaned. I washed, I folded. I told myself that dreams are silly, because you can die before you achieved them anyway. I wanted my life, from now on, to be planned and perfect and simple. I didn’t need crazy adventures. What if something happened? What would Mom do? What would happen to Cam?

  And now, we were driving, and I was falling asleep in the passenger seat, and Toby was humming along to the tune of something that I was pretty sure was from a Broadway musical. The sun rose, and three hours later, we pulled into a gas station.

  “You have no idea where we are, do you?” Toby had stopped the car and was looking curiously around.

  “Not. A. Clue.”

  Shit. Were we lost? What if we couldn’t get back in time? What if…what if I didn’t get back in time for the gala?

  I waited for my heart to start racing, for the panic sweats to start but…nothing.

  Dad had passed away before achieving all his hopes and dreams. And maybe I would, too. But did that mean that I couldn’t enjoy the time I had now?

  I realized then: I didn’t care if I couldn’t get to that stupid gala. It didn’t matter. Everything that I had thought was important, as it turned out, wasn’t. Who cares about my job? I could get a new one. Right?

  The falling snow was leaving a beautiful blanket in the morning light, and I wanted nothing more than to go roll around in it. I spent most of my adult life avoiding snow; it would be wonderful to play in it again, even if it meant I would be a little cold.

  After placing Ferdinand into a bundled up blanket in the backseat, I opened the door and slid out into the gas station lot. It was covered in black ice, and I nearly toppled over as I ran across it, headed for the edge of the awning where the snow had fallen into great waves. Scooping up a handful of snow and pressing it into a snowball, I ran straight back towards the car and threw it directly in the center of the windshield.

  “What are you waiting for, slowpoke? Let’s go!”

  Leaving the car running for Ferdinand, Toby followed me into the giant open field next to us. The old Penny would have been terrified that her clothes would get soaked and ruined, that her hair would get messed up, that this wasn’t the exact thing she had planned to do at this very second. But I didn’t even know where she was. I had left her behind, somewhere in the city.

  Sven would have told me I was acting like a child. But I wasn’t. I was just…acting. Actually doing something.

  I threw myself onto my back and made a snow angel, the wet cold soaking through my sweatpants, burning and shocking my bare skin. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Certainly nothing to be feared.

  And then a snowball hit me in the shoulder and all of the thoughts flew out of my head.

  “Thought you could take me?” said Toby, who had somehow acquired an entire wall of snowballs which he was hiding behind like a fortress.

  “When did you make all those?” I asked in disbelief, sitting up and gathering snow into my arms as fast as I could. But not fast enough.

  Three more snowballs hit my chest, knocking me onto my back.

  Laughing and shivering, I rolled onto my stomach and got my feet beneath me, using my back as a shield for all the snowballs that he was pelting me with. And then…I charged. As fast as I could, anyway, seeing as the snow was shin-deep. I plowed directly into his ice wall, toppling it, fiercely reminding me of Viserion.

  “Gotcha!” I cried, shoving him backwards into the pillowy snow and enjoying his “Mmph!” of surprise. Yeah, that’s right. I work out.

  We rolled in the snow, attempting to throw it at each other (and mostly failing), rubbing it into each other’s faces and hair, and generally acting like overgrown toddlers. But the cold sapped our energy, and after only a few minutes, we both lay on the ground, snuggled up together, breathing heavily.

  “Toby,” I said suddenly, the memories of the past few weeks bubbling to the surface. “I’m so…sorry. For everything. We said that we would stop talking to each other. And I called you anyway.”

  Toby rolled onto his side and put his hand to my cheek.

  I continued, “I’m not okay, Toby. I’m not. I shouldn’t need another person to help me cope with my life, I know that…but everything is falling apart and I didn’t know what else to do. You’re the only one who…” I had to cut myself off. It wasn’t fair of me to be saying all these things to him.

  “Listen, Penny. The past year has been unbelievably tough for me. I didn’t know another person could hurt me as badly as my ex-wife did. But you’ve made me laugh. You’ve helped me to take my mind off of…well, everything in my life. You called me first, but I promise you, if you hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been long before I caved and called you.”

  I dropped my eyes down to my arm, resting on the ground. Thousands of tiny snowflakes lay on it, slowly melting into nothing. “You’ve done so much for me though,” I said. “And I feel like I’ve done nothing in return.”

  “Then why do I feel the same way?”

  I looked up into his eyes, and they were full of warmth and comfort and the promise of a million smiles.

  He put his hand on mine, and together we lay there, gazing at each other. Despite the cold nipping at my nose, I didn’t want this moment to end. But I was shivering pretty heavily, my lips were most definitely blue, and we couldn’t leave the car running forever.

  “Think you’re ready to go back now, Penny?”

  Was that it? Was that all it took? Driving for a few hours and a romp in the snow? Maybe all I had needed was to know that I could leave whenever I wanted to.

  Maybe the gala would actually be fun. Lots of food, pretty dresses, a fancy award ceremony. Maybe things weren’t as bad as I thought they were. A little perspective wasn’t a terrible thing to have.

  “Let’s do this thing.”

  We helped one another stand up, and then trudged through the snow back to the car, leaving a trail of double footprints behind us. When we stepped onto the slippery pavement of the gas station, I quietly reached into my kangaroo pocket at the front of my hoodie and grabbed the snowball I had stashed there earlier.

  “GOTCHA!” I yelled, whipping it right at his chest.

  He stumbled as the snowball hit him, and kept sliding, unable to regain his footing on the black ice. And before I knew what had happened, he was on the ground in front of me, splayed out in an unnatural position.

  Whoops.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I reached down to help him up, but he didn’t move. Instead, he moaned and clutched at his leg. His face was contorted into a terrible grimace, and he was squeezing his eyes shut and taking great, heaving breaths.

  “Oh shit. Did you…fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to trip you. Oh god, did you break something?”

  “I dunno. My ankle kills though, and it’s already swelling up.”

  Great fucking job, Penny.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

  He smiled at me through his obvious pain. “Wasn’t your fault, Penny.”

  I mean, it was. But I wasn’t going to remind him of that.

  I looked at Toby’s ankle, which was definitely bigger
that I would have liked. I felt terrible. Almost as bad as when I thought I had killed Mrs. Purrpaws, but not quite.

  “Let’s get you to a hospital,” I said, making my first practical decision of the evening. Standing up, I offered my arm for support. “Come on.”

  Somehow, we made it into the car, and I took over driving, even though I had never driven stick before. It wasn’t as easy to learn as I had insisted it would be.

  “I NEED TO USE BOTH FEET?” I screamed, trying to remember what the word “clutch” meant and which gear was which.

  Toby was definitely grinning next to me. “It’s really not so hard, just push down when you want to—”

  “HOW DO YOU DO THIS WITH ONLY ONE HAND?” I screamed at him. I was so confused between all the things that all of my limbs were supposed to be doing, and he somehow managed to do all those things with one less hand.

  Luckily, it was hard to offend Toby. “Well, I steer with my left hand, and I use my feet and right arm just like you are…attempting to do now.”

  “Attempting” was putting it kindly. The car was stopping and starting every few feet, and wasn’t doing a whole lot of productive movement. Plus, it was making some very scary noises.

  “Those are okay, that’s just the engine getting upset with you for putting it through the ringer. It might crap out, it might not, but let’s cross our fingers!” I wasn’t sure if he was joking about the engine noises, so just to be safe I prayed for the first time in my life.

  Hey God, it’s me, Penny. Uh, I don’t really want to break this car, or die in an engine explosion or whatever. So if that could…not happen, that would be pretty sweet. Also, I mean, as long as I’m asking for stuff, could Toby’s ankle not be too bad? And maybe could this gala be like an actual fun and not horrendous event? That would be so awesome. Thanks.

  Google Maps told us that the nearest hospital was a half hour away, which didn’t surprise me because we were in The Actual Middle of Nowhere, USA. After only kinda sorta getting the hang of driving the stupid stick shift, I sped down the highway, praying that nobody would cut me off because I was having trouble remembering which pedal was the brake.

  Miraculously, we made it (probably, I deduced, because of my very polite and humble praying). We sat in the waiting room for hours, hiding Ferdinand in my sweatshirt pocket, as I was reasonably sure the hospital staff wouldn’t be thrilled about a ferret running loose through the halls.

  To distract Toby from his pain, I made him watch the patients that filed in. There was one grey-haired, middle-aged woman who couldn’t decide what she was there for; first it was her back, and then it was because she felt sick, and then it was because she had a horrible migraine, and then she said she fell out of a third-story window. There was a man who clearly had a developmental disease and was brought in in a wheelchair being pushed by a woman in her 20’s, dressed like a fairy. There was a teenage girl who was insistent that she was having an allergic reaction to a bee sting, even though she was clearly just having a very normal reaction to a bee sting.

  We hadn’t eaten anything in way too long, so I slipped out when he dozed off in the waiting room. I drove (jerkily) until I came across a run-down looking fast food joint called The Piggy’s Delight, which had menu options that included the “Rub-a-Dub-Sub” and the extremely unappetizing sounding “Pallid Salad.” I quickly decided on a grilled cheese and tomato soup combo, as it was the only thing that didn’t sound absolutely terrifying, and ordered two of them to go.

  By the time I arrived back at the hospital, Toby was already in the exam room, and thankfully, the nurse at the front desk led me to him without any questions. Toby looked completely exhausted, and he gratefully accepted the food that I handed him and started eating it without a word. On the chair next to his bed, I began to eat as well.

  My soup was cold and a little dried out on the top, but the grilled cheese was melty and oily, just the way I liked it. I hadn’t eaten something so fatty in…I couldn’t even remember how long. But as I had just been reminded, accidents can happen anytime, anywhere. I could die tomorrow. I might as well do what I want.

  Even if I get a little fat. Because I hadn’t worked out in forever. I probably should be running right now, I decided. What was I doing, eating this whole sandwich? Who did I think I was, someone who could afford liposuction?

  “What’s up, Penny? What are you thinking about?” Toby. Toby always knew when I was getting in my head again. “Stop thinking so much. Just be here with me.”

  Across the papery sheet that was covering him, he grabbed my hands. For once, I didn’t care that they were sweaty from the stress, and also full of grease and crumbs from my sandwich.

  After what seemed like a million x-rays, the doctor told him that his ankle wasn’t broken, and it was just a moderate sprain. As relieved as I was for not having broken an actual bone in someone else’s body, I still felt entirely responsible for the whole situation—which, to be fair, I was.

  But Toby, somehow, wasn’t mad. We were here together, now, and that was all that mattered.

  And then my phone rang.

  I answered.

  “Hey Bernard, how’s it going?”

  “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”

  Um. What?

  “Um. What?”

  “You’re supposed to be helping set up! Get your ass out of bed and over here!”

  Oh shit. The setup. I had thought I still had all day to get over to the gala…and had completely forgotten that I was supposed to be helping with all the prep work (AKA doing everything in my power to make Dr. Booper look as good as possible for the press). Shit.

  All my resolve from the night before had melted away, and now all I felt was full-blown panic.

  “Sorry, I got a little…sidetracked.”

  His sigh coming out of my speaker was so loud that it hurt my ear. “Just, get here, okay? And fast.”

  “On my way,” I said, conveniently leaving out the part where it would take me several hours to “get there.”

  Okay. Maybe my brilliant idea of leaving the city hadn’t exactly been as brilliant as I thought.

  No. It had definitely been one of the most terrible ideas ever. Because there was absolutely no way, no how, that I was going to make it back in time for the gala. None. Zero. Zip.

  I was speeding as fast as I could, only slowing down when I saw something in between the two highway lanes, which I (as always) assumed to be a cop. I had never been pulled over ever in my life, and I not only didn’t want those points on my license, but knew I would have difficulty handling the trauma. The last thing I needed right now was a panic attack.

  Fortunately, none of the dark lumps actually turned out to be cop cars, and I maintained my 80mph without too much difficulty.

  Toby’s ankle was already looking a bit better; he had been icing it and keeping it elevated, and with the drugs from the hospital, the swelling had definitely diminished.

  “I feel stupid for going to the ER now,” he said, unwrapping the Ace bandage from his foot. “If I had waited, I would have probably been fine.”

  “Did you REALLY want to risk it though?” I asked, quickly chancing a glance at him. His ankle was purple and black.

  “I guess not,” he said, smirking. “It’s not like I can afford to lose any more limbs.”

  That got us laughing harder than I had laughed in a really long time.

  Next to me, my phone was vibrating in the cup holder. Toby looked at the screen.

  “It’s Bernard.”

  “Again? Just…ignore it.” He had been calling me every few minutes for the past half hour. The next time he called, I told Toby just to turn off my phone. No matter what I said, no matter what he said, I couldn’t get back to D.C. any faster than physics would allow. And for some reason, I was way less stressed out about it than I should have been.

  No use worrying about things you can’t control, or however the saying goes.

  I could feel Toby’s eyes on me as I switched lanes. “Ca
n I ask you something?” he said.

  “Uh,” I answered noncommittally, not really feeling like delving into too much at the moment. At this point, I figured it was best if I sort of ignored the mess that my life had become.

  “Do you think Ferdinand is happy?” He held the ferret up under its armpits, so that they were both looking at me with the cutest puppy-dog eyes I had ever seen. Ferdinand, as it turned out, was actually kind of adorable. Kind of.

  I shrugged. “Well, he seems pretty happy,” I said, even though I had no idea what a happy ferret looked like or indeed, what a sad ferret looked like.

  “I just worry that he misses Chloe.” It was the first time he had talked about his ex-wife in a positive way, and I felt myself stiffen.

  “Well. She left him. And she left you. I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be totally and completely one hundred percent happy with you.”

  And I meant it. How could anyone not be totally and completely one hundred percent happy with Toby?

  Sure, he didn’t have a lot of money. And he didn’t know what direction his life was going, and didn’t have his shit together, and he was so far from perfect that before, I never would have understood how he could make anyone happy. He was divorced, and was certainly not what I ever would have considered “marriage material.” Or even “boyfriend material.” But he was the most interesting, funny, caring person I had ever met.

  Our car ride was distinctively less exciting than the first one. Neither of us were excited to be going back. We tried jamming to a throwback Spotify playlist, but it didn’t help either of our moods much.

  I knew there wouldn’t be time for me to stop home in rush-hour traffic, drive to Toby’s house to drop him off with the car, and then somehow find my way to the gala. So instead, we stopped at a deserted shopping mall we found off the highway, where I ran in and bought the first dress I found in my size at JCPenny.