Impractically Perfect: A Romantic Comedy Read online

  Wait. What? I was sure we didn’t have a meeting scheduled until next week. Or had I put the wrong date in my phone? Oh crap. I was going to have to personally apologize to Dr. Booper. I never missed meetings, not ever. This was mortifying. And what if he didn’t understand? What if he suspended me without pay? What if he...fired me?

  How was I going to get another job after being fired?

  Bernard was looking at me curiously, and while my mind had been racing he had somehow managed to set up an entire presentation of pamphlets, DVDs, and what looked like an array of beauty products.

  “I’m a new consultant at a company called Yourbonne!” he said, handing me one of the pamphlets. Yourbonne is Yours, it said. Not the best tagline. “We sell face products specifically designed to work alongside your iPhone’s facial recognition software. You look your best, you look like yourself—you’ll get into your phone, not somebody else.” Um.

  And then he was unscrewing the lid of a particularly intimidating looking jar, intimidating because all the words were in French and the label was purple and sparkly. He held it in front of my nose. “What does this smell like to you?”

  “Uh...mint?” I guessed, pretty sure that “clean feet” wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

  “Correct! This is our new eucalyptus-peppermint-cilantro-cantaloupe-papaya overnight face mask! It’s full of antioxidants and relaxing smells for your best sleep ever, guaranteed!”

  As much as I didn’t need a face mask, I had to hand it to Bernard: he was a great salesman.

  “Look, Bernard, I really don’t...”

  “Say no more! Take some literature with you, think it over...let me know if you ever change your mind!”

  I stuffed the pamphlet into my bag, quite sure I would never look at it again. “Thanks.”

  “You know,” he said as I passed him, “it’s really nice to be in charge of your own life. Being a part of this company for the last three days has opened up my eyes to how much of a slave I was. Living my life based on other people’s schedules, paycheck to paycheck...but now? I feel so fulfilled.”

  Okay, I told myself, Bernard is just young. He’s been doing this thing for less than a week, hasn’t made a cent yet, and he’ll probably get bored with it by the end of the month. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder what it must feel like to be that happy with your life.

  We were on lunch, and Cyril was trying to explain an elephant’s birthing process to me, Bernard, and Dr. Booper. It was…an experience, and not really my favorite thing to be hearing while I was trying to finish my sandwich.

  “Baby elephants are ninety pounds, so it’s like, not really an easy task.” And here I was, wondering how the hell humans fit seven pound babies through their cervixes.

  Baby-having had always been really high on my priority list. I had been so sure I was going to marry a successful man before thirty, have a few adorable kids, work a few hours a week at my very easy, convenient, and well-paying job, and live a well-rounded, predictable life. But now, as I was edging closer and closer to thirty, the dream slowly started to fade and the worries set in. What if I didn’t get married until I was…31? How would that change my plans? What if I couldn’t get pregnant? What if, what if, what if?

  What if Sven never proposed to me?

  “While we’re all here,” said Dr. Booper suddenly, rousing me from my daymares, “I have an exciting announcement to make!” We all leaned in, but Dr. Booper only typed a couple words into his phone, and then leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

  “Um,” I said. “…What?”

  “Patience, Penny,” he said, gazing unconcernedly at the door.

  We all waited for a good thirty seconds or so before Cyril finally chimed in.

  “What…what is this announcement?” she asked, and finally, Dr. Booper stopped checking his phone every two seconds, slammed it down on the table, and walked out. What was happening?

  But a minute later, he was back, followed closely by someone I hoped wasn’t a stripper but I couldn’t imagine what else she would be. It was a woman with long blonde hair and large breasts barely concealed by her tank top. She was carrying a banner that said “CONGRATULATIONS!” and from somewhere, music started playing. Was that the Presidential March?

  There was also a cameraman trailing behind her, and I noticed Dr. Booper subtly position himself right next to the blonde girl; whether it was because she was really blonde or had really big boobs or was directly in front of the camera, I couldn’t tell.

  Cyril and I exchanged terrified glances before Blonde Boobs finally started talking.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you have been selected as finalists for the 35 over 35 awards by Tooth and Nail Magazine! Dr. Stanley Booper started his own business, Happy Healthy Teeth, six years ago, and it has become one of the most successful dental practices in all of Washington D.C.! Tooth and Nail has always been a huge supporter of Dr. Booper’s work, and you are all invited to a gala at the end of the month to honor the finalists and to announce the winner!”

  A huge gasp came from Dr. Booper, and for a moment I thought he was having a heart attack before realizing that he was pretending to react to this news on the camera. His hand was on his heart, and now he was pretending to laugh-cry. It wasn’t pretty.

  Somehow, the music got louder, and the girl started shimmying while making creepy eye contact with all of us. Maybe she wasn’t a stripper, but she would have been really good at it. And then she was gone.

  Dr. Booper closed the door behind Blondie, then turned, beaming, at us. I wasn’t looking at them, but I’m pretty sure that Bernard’s and Cyril’s faces were as shocked as mine was.

  Bernard just kept watching the door. “Erm…did you just like…hire this girl to memorize this and dance around?”

  Dr. Booper pointedly ignored him. “Amazing, right?” Dr. Booper said. “This is going to be great for my—well, our, practice. More publicity means more clients, and you all know how I’ve been wanting to expand. This could be our opportunity!”

  “But how much did that stripper cost? Did you use the company card?”

  I’d never been to a gala before, but it sounded like fun. Pretty dresses, fancy food, an award ceremony? It was basically the Oscars.

  And what a romantic place to bring Sven. We could get all dressed up, maybe drink a little too much champagne...and then, right after Happy Healthy Teeth was announced as the winner, he would fall to his knees and propose to me, right then and there.

  It all made sense to me now. Of course Sven hadn’t wanted to propose just any old day. He wanted it to be special. And what was more special than an Oscar proposal?

  Now I just needed him to come up with the idea.

  Chapter Six

  Families Make The Best Friends

  I stopped short as I was unlocking my front door. There were voices coming from inside, and they didn’t sound like the twins. And as far as I knew, the twins had zero friends. Who was in my house?

  “Honey, I really like your hair this long. Are you sure you want to cut it?”

  “Mooom, come on, it’s my hair, I can do whatever I want with it!”

  “I just think your head is going to get cold if you buzz it...”

  Oh dear.

  Mom and Cam were at my apartment. But...why?

  “Hey guys!” I said, stepping inside and shutting the chill behind me as I closed the door. “What are you DOING here?”

  Mom looked, well, incredible, honestly. She had lost about ten pounds since I had last seen her, and she was wearing a short-sleeve top specifically to show off her newfound muscle definition. She had redone her hair as well—she had a new, younger angle cut that she had flat-ironed so it made her already prominent cheekbones stick out even more. Mrs. Purrpaws had, apparently, taken a liking to her. She was curled up in her lap, rubbing her nasty little face on Mom’s thighs. I even heard some purring when she stroked her. What the hell?

  And then there was Cam. My
little brother, not so little anymore. He was graduating high school this year, and Mom was like, weirdly excited about it? At least, she sure hadn’t been that excited when I graduated.

  But maybe it wasn’t that weird. Because I knew exactly what she was looking forward to: dating again.

  My dad had passed away when I was twelve and Cam was two. Raising us on her own, my mom had been—and still was—a superhero. She was also pretty much the coolest mom around. She was young, as she had me when she was nineteen, and all my friends thought she was cool also. She was always up to date with the latest styles, and managed to find a way to stay fashionable while saving money. She was the one who taught me how to thrift in a way that nobody would ever know your clothes were secondhand.

  But I couldn’t pull it all off as elegantly as she could.

  Maybe this was what had convinced me I needed to lead a perfect life. We had never had a lot of money or a lot of stuff, and things hadn’t easy for us. So things were going to be different for me. My mom might have had a lot of stuff go wrong and made the best of things. But my life was going to be perfect.

  My mom always encouraged us to do our best, but never put too much pressure on us. Both Cam and I did well in school—me because I was obsessive about getting perfect grades, Cam because he’s a little genius who never had to try. Oboe lessons were my idea, not hers, and she supported me all the way until I…well, until I stopped.

  She always seemed perfectly happy to be on her own, a single mother…although now I realized that that was probably just a show for me and Cam. And now that she didn’t have to worry about us getting attached to a father figure and then them breaking up or something, Mom was swiping on Tinder like there was no tomorrow.

  “What do you mean, why are we here?” Mom said, jumping up from the kitchen table to envelop me in a suffocating hug. Mrs. Purrpaws rolled off her lap, landed on her feet, spat at me, then stalked off with her tail held high. “We wanted to celebrate your engagement!”

  “Oh, wow! That’s so amazing, thanks guys!”

  Shit.

  That evening, after making up a couch for Mom and an air mattress for Cam, I sat on top of my own still-made bed, wide awake. What had I been thinking, not telling Mom the truth? How the hell was I going to get out of this?

  The problem was, I was a terrible liar. I usually resorted to nodding and smiling even for the whitest of lies, as I did when responding to Gillian whenever she asked me, “does this dress make my butt look smaller?” But this…this was in a whole different realm of lies for me. Over the phone had been one thing: my mom couldn’t see my face. But in person…I was surprised I had lasted this long.

  But Mom and Cam would have to get back home at the end of the weekend, Cam had school and Mom had work. So maybe, just maybe, I could make them believe me for just a little while.

  “Whole wheat waffle, no butter, no syrup,” said Mom to the unibrowed waiter. “And two egg whites with a fruit cup on the side.”

  Cam rolled his eyes, while pointedly pricking his finger to test his blood sugar. “Mom, that sounds disgusting. May I please get the all-you-can-eat pancakes? And some bacon.”

  Sometimes I wished I was a teenage boy. For the metabolism, not the random erections during chemistry class.

  The waiter looked at me, and I wondered what he would look like if he waxed the hair running across the bridge of his nose. Maybe he could even be cute.

  “Um, actually, I’m not really hungry,” I said. It was true. My stomach felt distinctly like a vulture had gotten in there somehow, chewed up all my intestines, and left them mangled there.

  Sven put his hand on my lap. “You’re not eating breakfast food? You love breakfast. Are you feeling okay?”

  I really wasn’t, but it wasn’t like I could explain my predicament to him here, in front of Mom and Cam. Just like, “Well, I told my family we were engaged even though that is probably NEVER going to happen, so can you just act like that’s true while they’re here? Thanks.” Not only would that not work for obvious reasons, but Sven was annoyingly honest. It wasn’t that he was a bad liar; it would just never occur to him to do it. Although, come to think of it, he would probably be an even worse liar than me if he tried.

  The waiter, unsure if he should try to convince me to order something, backed away slowly.

  “I’m fine, honey,” I said, swallowing my stomach-induced grimace and leaning over to give him a big smooch. He looked surprised—we weren’t usually the PDA type—but he kissed me back. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Mom dab at the corner of her eye with the napkin that was still rolled over her fork and knife.

  “You must be so excited,” Mom said. She took a swig of her orange juice.

  Luckily, I had the wherewithal to have ordered a Bloody Mary upon arrival, and I downed half of it in one swallow.

  “Excited?” asked Sven. “Excited about…?”

  “MY WORK GALA, OBVIOUSLY!” I said, loud enough that several guests across the restaurant turned their heads. “I mean, my work gala. About which yes, of course we are very excited. It’s going to be so much fun!”

  “Right, but also…”

  “My dress?” I said, looking meaningfully between Sven and Mom. “It’s going to be long and super fancy. With, um, lace and stuff. And…”

  “Don’t say too much about it, you don’t want Sven knowing!” said Mom. “Although, I have to say, I thought maybe you would have wanted to go shopping for it with me.”

  “Oh! I mean, of course I want to. That’s just…an option. One of the many options I found. For the, um. Dress.”

  Sven crinkled up his eyebrows in a way that made him look simultaneously smoldering and confused. “You never told me about a gala...?”

  Mom laughed. “Of course not, she’s been too busy thinking about other events!” I tried to deflect her wink, but it didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. “Have you set a date yet?”

  “Ummm...” I said, stalling as long as I could, hoping a brilliant plan would pop into my head. “December 23rd!” Three weeks away. The date of the gala. Sven nodded pleasantly along with this new and relatively uninteresting information, but Mom nearly died.

  “THAT SOON?” she cried, standing up and nearly flipping over the table, which was quite the feat since it was bolted securely into the floor. “HOW HAVE YOU NEGLECTED TO TELL ME THIS?”

  I leaned over and whispered into Sven’s ear. “Sorry. Mom just...gets really passionate about galas.”

  “Apparently.”

  Mom had run over to the other side of the table where Sven and I were sitting, put her arms around both of our shoulders, and squatted down to smush herself between us.

  “What do you want me to do? How can I help? OOOH, you must be looking forward to this!”

  Thankfully, it was at this exact moment that the waiter came back carrying armfuls of plates. I vaguely wondered if they were burning his skin, but the overpowering scent of warm syrup distracted me from his plight.

  My stomach was rumbling, and I remembered regretfully that I hadn’t ordered any food. But it wasn’t like I could make a fuss about it now.

  Damn. Sven’s chorizo omelette looked amazing. And Cam’s bacon, holy shit. Even Mom’s wilting fruit cup was making my mouth water a bit, even though it was full of murderous strawberries.

  Oh well. At least I could still fill myself with conversation of my impending doom.

  “Of course we’re excited, Mom,” I said, glaring at Sven so he wouldn’t ask any questions. He was stuffing his mouth with home fries, though, and didn’t even seem to realize that anyone was talking. I scooted my chair closer to Mom’s.

  “It’s not a huge thing, okay? Please don’t make it into one, it makes, uh, Sven, very uncomfortable.”

  “Ugh, I’m sorry, Penny, you’re right. I’m just so excited that you two are finally moving forward!”

  Yep. So would I be. If we, you know, were.

  I managed to make it throughout the next fifteen minutes or so b
y ordering another Bloody Mary, then eating all the pickle spears and celery out of both of them as sustenance. But the alcohol moved through me pretty quickly, and I needed to excuse myself for a quick pee break.

  In typical diner fashion, the bathroom had clearly not had a deep cleaning in at least a decade. Peeling wallpaper decorated the space between the squeaky stalls—the doors of which, naturally, didn’t lock. I squeezed myself into the first stall, awkwardly set up so that the toilet was facing the adjacent toilet, rather than the door. There was no leg room.

  Despite my higher-than-was-probably-heathy stress level, I managed to relax enough to empty my bladder, while reading the graffiti across from me:

  Dale and Keegan forever

  i love my brother and idc who knowz it

  Hey there, friend. When you’re feeling down, just remember: everything is temporary.

  Wow, thank you, bathroom defacer. Everything is temporary. I just need to remind myself that this would go away. All of it.

  Eventually, breakfast would be over (even though it felt like it was taking an actual millennium). Eventually, Mom and Cam would go home. This would all blow over.

  Eventually, Sven would propose. This...whatever this was, this in-between time in our lives, was temporary.

  Everything was going to be okay. Eventually.

  Feeling slightly better, I washed my hands and returned to the table...while Mom loudly hummed “Here Comes the Bride.”

  Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have left them all alone together.

  “Yep,” Sven was saying, as I took my seat next to him. “We’ve already taken care of all of the catering, no need to provide anything.” He shot me a murderous glance. “Naturally, we’re ecstatic about the whole thing.”

  Mom was resting her head on her crossed arms on the table, whole wheat waffle forgotten. “Tell me about the proposal.”

  “THE PROPOSAL!” I yelled. “For Sven’s THESIS? Three YEARS ago?” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s got a great job! Why must we turn back the clock?” Wow, my mother was definitely going to think I had hit my head on a wall or a windshield or something, but there was really no help for it.