October 14th, 2008
JerryAnn
“Wait up,” Toby yells as Cate and I cross the street after practice.
Cate and I face each other, shrug, then watch Toby run toward us, panting. Once he reaches us, he stops, grabs his inhaler, and takes a puff. “Were you going to leave without me?” His words come out in spurts.
Confused, I answer, “Yes?”
Toby throws his hands in the air. “Figures.” He shakes his head. “Your Dad never told you.”
“Told me what?” Dad’s never been great at communicating.
“After Friday’s game, he invited me over for dinner…tonight.” He looks to me for recognition. “He said you’d give me a ride.”
Cate and I look at each other and nod. Sounds like Dad.
“But if it’s too much trouble, I’ll skip out.” His mouth says he’ll skip out, but he moves toward us. “Your Dad was excited to have me over, but if he didn’t tell you, then he probably forgot.” Toby slips his hands in his pockets.
His gaze pivots between Cate, me, and the middle school parking lot. His motorcycle sits on one side of the lot, and Rose’s yellow VW beetle with big eyelashes sits on the other. Do Rose and her car get their eyelashes done at the same place?
I toss a knowing glance at Cate, who smirks. “No, he didn’t forget. He’s been having cell phone issues .” She’s done something to his phone using autocorrect. She laughs, and I roll my eyes.
Waving him over, we walk toward my apartment. “Dad always makes more food than we can eat.” Gavin wouldn’t want me eating with Toby, but keeping up with what Gavin wants is exhausting. He doesn’t like me leaving work in uniform, so I clocked out, put on a new outfit, applied more makeup, and sauntered past Gavin’s register to impress him, but his reaction was an upward head nod.
“If you’re sure it’s okay, I’d appreciate the ride and the food.” Toby’s steps spring across the street.
We stand outside Mathilda’s opened doors while I dig for keys in the purse Gavin bought me to replace my backpack since real women carry purses .
Cate clears her throat. “I’m coming too.”
I look up. Dad’s been inviting Cate to Tuesday night Dad dinners for months. Frustrated, I throw the purse at Cate. “Fine. Help me find my keys.”
Toby eyes the parking lot as Rose steps out of the school. Her car could fit in her massive purse. With her short legs, her high heels click across cement for eternity. I turn to Toby, expecting to find him watching Rose’s hips, but he’s vanished. I walk to the front of Mathilda. Toby’s crouched, tying his shoes, which would be normal if his shoes had laces. He peeks around my car.
“Did you two break up or something?”
Toby, red-faced, doesn’t stand. “No.”
Rose pulls out onto Montgomery Blvd. “She’s gone.”
I expect him to backpedal, tell me he wasn’t hiding, but instead, he smiles and stands. “Rose doesn’t want me spending time with you, but your Dad asked me over for dinner before Rose told me not to spend time with you.” He licks his lips. “And smoked meats are good.”
I nod. “If you like meat, you’ll like Dad’s cooking.”
Cate clears her throat, tosses me my keys, and Toby calls, “Shotgun.”
There’s silence in the car as we pull out, and for the first time, I’m dreading Dad’s dinner. Cate and Dad don’t get along. Toby, who knows about Gavin, is here, and Dad hasn’t seen my new look: lots of makeup, newly dyed hair, new clothes.
Toby turns his head, looking for something, sniffing from the front seat. “Is no one going to say anything about the smell?”
He’s never been immersed in the fish fiesta that is my car. Cate and I have tried countless air freshening combinations, and I thought we’d hit the right one.
“It’s delicious.” He searches the back seat where Cate sits. “Where’s the grilled salmon with lemon?”
Cate and I shout simultaneously, “Yes!”
Cate moves to the middle of the back seat and sticks her head between Toby and me. “I knew it.” She’s nodding her head with triumph because it was her idea. “Rather than mask the smell, we embraced it. I can’t believe we didn’t think of this before.”
Meeting Cate’s eyes in the rearview mirror, I say, “You’re a genius.”
She explains to Toby our numerous attempts to mask the fish odor then leans back, smiling, triumphant. We’re only a block from Dad’s when Cate pulls a twin-pack of Twinkies from her backpack and crinkles the wrapper.
I blurt, “Wait, don’t eat that.”
She pulls the Twinkie from the wrapper and shoves a whole one in her mouth.
“We’re almost to Dad’s. He’ll have plenty of food, and it won’t be processed.”
Cate swallows and then leans forward, facing Toby who leans against the passenger door, turned around toward Cate. “JerryAnn is a healthy eater who thinks she needs to convert everyone to a whole-foods diet. She thinks she’s better than us.”
My body tenses. It’s not like that. I care about Cate, worry about her and the junk she constantly eats. She’s thin but doesn’t exercise, and she uses food to fill voids in her life that food shouldn’t fill. She’s tired all the time, often depressed, and she’s beautiful, but a healthy diet would help with her emotions and energy level.
Toby leans toward Cate and whispers, “I hate people like that.”
Cate smiles, and I clutch the steering wheel and grit my teeth. Now I’m dreading dinner even more. This was supposed to be a Dad dinner, just me and him, our time to relax, watch sports, eat too much, talk too little. Since dating Gavin, it’s been the most relaxing night of the week, but what’s Dad going to say about my clothes, my hair, my face? Will it be Cate and Toby against me for the rest of the evening?
Cate leans back as I pull into the parking lot. “Unlike JerryAnn, I like food that tastes good.” She shoves the second Twinkie in her mouth and opens her door.
Dad’s two-bedroom townhome has a backyard big enough for a grill, a smoker, two lawn chairs, and a TV. I open the back gate and walk into a smoked brisket cloud.
Toby breathes in deep through his nose, and Cate hangs back as I slide the glass door open. “Dad, surprise, we’re here for dinner.”
From inside, the toilet flushes. The three of us scoot inside, onto the linoleum. It’s not a grand place, but it’s comfortable. The massive TV is on, ESPN blaring. Please, Dad, be wearing pants when you come out of the bathroom.
After closing the door, I stay behind Toby and Cate and hope Dad doesn’t notice my makeup and clothes. Dad ducks out of the bathroom, zipping his pants, and looks up. “Amigo! You came.” He crosses the living room and reaches out his hand. I hope he washed.
“His name is Toby,” I mutter.
Toby shakes Dad’s hand.
“Glad you could make it. And Cate.” He stares at her for a second, eyes narrowed. “Don’t know how Jerry convinced you, but I’m glad you’re here.”
Cate rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you’re as glad to see me as you are to get a colonoscopy.”
Dad ignores Cate and stares at me. “Jerry, what are you wearing?”
Toby and Cate face me.
“Clothes, Dad. They’re clothes.” Here it comes. I like my new shirt. It’s soft and feminine. I feel pretty in it.
“I didn’t know you were into all that frilly, girly stuff.”
It’s a forest green knit boat neck shirt with three-quarter length sleeves and a thin ribbon that curves with the neckline. It’s snug without being tight and not at all frilly, but Dad only ever buys me T-shirts. I own more T-shirts than a Hanes factory. He doesn’t mention my jeans, the first pair of women’s jeans I’ve ever owned, which I had to special order. There’s a big difference between men’s and women’s jeans, and I’m never going back.
“If I’d known you were into girly clothes, I would have bought you some when you were growing up.”
He wouldn’t have. I had to buy my own bras and feminine products, and when I got good at basketball, he didn’t have to buy me clothes—sponsors did that.
Toby and Cate smirk, amused.
Dad reaches over Cate and Toby, who scoot aside. He puts his thumb on my cheek. “And what is this gunk all over your face?”
This is more humiliating than Dad forgetting pants. “It’s makeup.” Dad gives me a blank stare. “Makeup. Women wear it on their faces to make them look prettier than they are.”
Dad squints. “That’s idiotic. You don’t need that crud.” He addresses Toby. “Amigo, back me up here. Jerry doesn’t need that junk on her face.”
Toby swallows hard. “No, she doesn’t.”
Please let me crawl into an old pair of high tops and die.
Dad puts a thumb on each side of my face with his palms over my ears and rubs the foundation off my cheeks. I resent the sympathy in Toby’s eyes as much as I detest Cate’s amusement. I push out of Dad’s hands, head to the bathroom, and wash my face with hand soap and check my reflection. I’m not gorgeous. I’m me, and I’ve always been okay with that, until recently…until Gavin.
Dad’s bedroom is connected to the bathroom, so I slip into his room and grab one of his T-shirts and throw it on over my “frilly” shirt.