Size 14 Is Not Fat Either Part 29

I look up from the empty popcorn basket and notice that Pete and Magda aren't the only ones staring at Sarah in disbelief. The bartender, Belinda, a punk rock waif with a shaved head and overalls, is blinking at her with astonishment as well.

Sarah notices, looks around, and says defensively, "Excuse me, a person can have multiple interests, you know. I mean, I can be interested in psychology and sports, too. It's called being well-rounded, people."

"More popcorn?" Belinda asks her, looking pretty scared for someone with so many nose rings.

"Uh, no," Sarah says. "That stuff is stale."

"Um," I say, "I'll take some. Thanks."

"On that note," Pete says, rising from his chair, "I have to get home before my kids tear the place apart. Magda, you want a ride to the subway?"

"Oh, yes," Magda says, getting up as well.

"Wait," I protest. "I just got more popcorn!"

"Sorry, honey," Magda says, struggling into her faux-rabbit fur coat. "But it's about twelve degrees out there. I'm not walking to the subway. See you on Monday."

"See you guys," I say mournfully, watching them leave. I'd leave, too, but I still have half a beer left. You can't just leave a beer like that. It's un-American.

Except a minute later I'm regretting not having made my escape when I had the chance, since the door opens, and who should walk in but...

Jordan.

"Oh, there you are," he says, spotting me at once. Which isn't hard, since I'm the only one in the bar, with the exception of Sarah and a couple of Math Department types, who are playing pool. Jordan slides into the chair Pete just vacated, and explains, as he peels off his jacket, "Cooper told me you sometimes come here after work."

I glare at him over my beer. I don't know why. I guess it's just that he mentioned Cooper's name. Cooper's not high on my list of favorite people right now.

Actually, neither is his brother.

"Nice place," Jordan says, looking around. It's clear he's being sarcastic. Jordan's idea of a nice place is the bar at the Four Seasons. Which isn't exactly in my price range. Anymore.

"Well, you know me," I say, more lightly than I feel. "Only the best."

"Yeah." Jordan stops looking around and looks at me instead. This is somehow worse. I know I'm not exactly ravis.h.i.+ng at the moment. Last night's wild ride didn't do much for the bags under my eyes, and I didn't actually wash my hair this morning. Instead, I washed it the night before, to get the smell of Tau Phi House cigarette smoke out of it. Sleeping on my hair while wet has a way of making it look...well, sort of matted the next day. Add that to the fact that I'm wearing my second-best pair of jeans-I still haven't managed to replace the ones with the blood-stained knees-which aren't exactly loose, to the point where I have to constantly worry about camel toe, and you have the picture.

But Jordan's no prize today, either. He's got dark circles where I've got bags, and his case of hat head is even worse than mine. His blond hair is sticking up in tufts all over his head.

"You want a beer?" I ask him, since Belinda is looking over at us questioningly.

"Oh, G.o.d, no," Jordan says, and shudders. "I'm never drinking again after last night. I seriously think someone slipped something in my drink. I only had that one-"

"You told me you had ten gla.s.ses of wine before you even got downtown," I remind him.

"Yeah," Jordan says, with a So what? look on his face. "That's what I have most nights. I've never been as blotto as I was last night."

"Why would someone roofie you?" I ask. "It's not exactly like you're unwilling to have s.e.x with strangers."

He glares at me. "Hey, now," he says. "That's not fair. And I don't know why someone would do it. Maybe it was, like, an ugly girl, or someone I wouldn't ordinarily go with."

"I didn't see any ugly girls at that party." Then I brighten. "Maybe it was one of the guys! Frats are known hotbeds of latent h.o.m.os.e.xuality."

Jordan makes a face. "Please, Heather...let's just drop it, okay? Suffice it to say, I'm never drinking again."

"Well, that will make the champagne toasts tomorrow a bit of a letdown," I say.

Jordan fingers the initials someone has carved into the tabletop, not meeting my gaze. "Look, Heather," he says. "About last night-"

"I don't know where your skis went, Jordan," I say. "I called Waverly Hall and the guard said no one left any skis there, so obviously someone stole them. I'm really sorry, but you know-"

He flinches. I think it's because I've spoken so loudly.

"I don't care about the stupid skis," he says. "I'm talking about us."

I blink at him. Then I remember that Cooper must have driven him home this morning.

Oh, no.

"Jordan," I say quickly. "I am not still in love with you. I don't care what Cooper told you, okay? I mean, sure, I used to be in love with you. But that was a long time ago. I've moved on-"

He blinks at me. "Cooper? What are you talking about?"

"Didn't he give you a ride home this morning?"

"Yeah. But we didn't talk about you. We talked about Mom and Dad. It was nice. I haven't talked to Cooper-just one-on-one-like that in a long time. I think we worked out some things. Our differences, I mean. We both agreed that we're nothing alike-but that that's all right. Whatever his relations.h.i.+p with Mom and Dad...well, it's no reason he and I can't get along."

I stare at him. I can't quite believe what I'm hearing. Cooper can't stand Jordan. I mean, to the point of refusing to take his calls or open the door when he comes over.

"Wow," I say. "That's...that's...well, progress. Good for you."

"Yeah," Jordan says. He continues to finger the graffiti. "I think I talked him into coming to the wedding tomorrow. I mean, he didn't agree to be my best man, like I asked, but he said he'd come."

I'm genuinely shocked. Cooper can't stand his family, and now he's planning on attending a big blowout wedding at St. Patrick's Cathedral, with a reception at the Plaza, in their company? Those are so not his type of events....

"Well," I say. Because I really don't know what else to say. "That's...that's amazing, Jordan. Really. I'm so happy for you."

"It really means a lot to me," Jordan says. "The only thing better would have been if...well, if you would have agreed to come tomorrow, Heather."

I clutch my beer. "Oh, Jordan," I say. "That's so sweet. But-"

"That's why it's so hard for me to say what I'm about to say," Jordan goes on, as if I hadn't spoken. "And that's this. Heather." He reaches across the table to grip the hand that isn't curled around my pint gla.s.s, then looks earnestly into my eyes. "It really hurts me to say this, but...I can't let you come to my wedding tomorrow."

I blink at him. "Jordan," I say. "I-"

"Please let me finish," Jordan says, squeezing my hand. "It isn't that I don't want you there, Heather. More than anyone in the world, I want you there. You're the person I've been closest to for the longest in my life. If there's anyone I want to be by my side for the most important event of my life, it's you."

"Um, Jordan," I say. "I'm flattered. I really am. But shouldn't the person you most want at your side for this be-"

"It's Tania," Jordan interrupts.

"Right," I say. "That's what I mean. Shouldn't Tania be the person you most want at your side? Considering she's the one you're-"

"No, I mean Tania is the one who doesn't want you there," Jordan says. "Not after last night. See, she wasn't too happy when she found out I spent the night with you-"

"Oh, my G.o.d, Jordan!" I burst out, yanking my hand away from him, and glancing quickly toward Sarah and Belinda to make sure they haven't overheard. "You didn't spend the night with me! You spent it on your brother's living room couch!"

"I know that," Jordan says, having the dignity to flush. "But Tania doesn't believe it. See, Tania thinks you're still in love with me, and-"

"Oh, my G.o.d!" I cry again. "What is it with everybody thinking I'm still in love with you? I'm so not! I fell out of love with you way before I ever walked in and saw Tania with your-"

"Hey, now," Jordan says, ducking his head as the two math geeks look over at us interestedly. "No need for that kind of language."

"Seriously, though, Jordan," I say. "I fell out of love with you that time we were touring in j.a.pan, remember, and you kept going to visit all those temples. Only they weren't really temples, were they?"

Jordan's flush deepens. "No. I didn't know you knew. You never said anything."

I shrug. "What was there to say? Besides, I thought maybe you'd work it out of your system. But you didn't."

"I just never knew any woman could do that with a ping-pong ball," Jordan says, in a dreamy voice.

"Yes," I say briskly. "Well, fortunately for you, Tania is a girl of many talents."

His fiancee's name snaps him out of his reverie, as I'd known it would.

"So you're really all right with it?" he asks me, with a worried expression. "Not coming to the wedding?"

"Jordan, I never had any intention of coming your wedding tomorrow. Remember? I told you that. Like five times."

He reaches out to grasp my hand again. "Heather," he says, gazing into my bloodshot eyes with his own. "I can't tell you what this means to me. It proves that, no matter what you say, you do care about me...at least a little. And I hope you'll believe me when I say I'm sorry things turned out this way. But it's time for me to start my new life, with my new partner. If it's any comfort to you at all, I hope that someday you, too, will find someone to share your life with...."

"Jordan," I say, leaning forward to pat his hand. "I have found that someone. Her name is Lucy."

Jordan makes a face and lets go of my hand. "I mean a man, Heather, not a dog. Why do you always have to make a joke out of everything?"

"I don't know," I say, with a sigh. "That's just the kind of girl I am, I guess. You're lucky you escaped when you did."

Jordan looks at me sadly, shaking his head. "You'll never go back to the way you used to be when we first met, will you? You were so sweet back then. Never cynical."

"That's because back then my boyfriend didn't feel like he was missing out on the fact that I never did v.a.g.i.n.al tricks with a ping-pong ball," I tell him.

"That's it," Jordan says, putting his jacket back on and standing up. "I'm leaving. I'll see you...well. Later."

"After you get back from the honeymoon," I say. "Where are you going, anyway?"

Jordan can't seem to make eye contact. "j.a.pan. Tania's touring."

"Well," I say. "Ja mata."

Scowling, Jordan storms from the bar. Only when he's gone does Sarah turn her attention from the game (there's a commercial), and says "Jesus Christ. What did you say to him, anyway?"

I shrug. "Goodbye."

26.

My heart was like a broken book My soul was torn, not worth a look Then you found me, and I just knew Dreams really could come true.

"Book"

Written by Heather Wells

After the day I've had, I'm looking forward to an evening alone. I plan on taking out the old guitar and giving it a thorough workout, then lighting a fire and curling up on the couch to watch all the TV shows I've DVR'd through the week. I think there's some leftover Indian takeout in the fridge. I'm going to chow down on samosas and nan and America's Next Top Model reruns. Could there be a better plan for a Friday night? Especially a Friday night coming after a week of dealing with bodyless corpses and frat boys.

Except that when I walk through the front door of Cooper's place, I realize there's something I forgot to factor into my plan.

And that's that I now live with my father.

The smell hits me the minute I step into the foyer. It's unmistakable. Someone is cooking the steaks I snuck out of work to buy at Jefferson Market. The steaks I got for me and Cooper, but never got around to cooking for him, on account of...well, everything that was going on.

Wrenching off my coat, I stalk into the kitchen. Dad is there in an ap.r.o.n in front of the stove, cooking my steaks in a cast-iron pan with the mushrooms and onions I also picked up. He's set the kitchen table for two, with napkins and lit candles and everything. Lucy, curled in one of her many dog beds (Cooper's the one who keeps buying them, not me. He thinks they're cute), raises her head when I come in and wags her tail, but that's all. She's obviously already been out.

"Well," I say. I have to speak loudly to be heard over the Bollywood music Dad's playing on Cooper's stereo system. "Expecting company?"

Dad jumps and turns around. He's drinking one of my Diet c.o.kes. Some of it slops out of the can because he turns so abruptly.

"Heather!" he cries. "There you are! I didn't hear you come in."

I'm glaring at the steaks. I can't help it. Those were in my fridge in my apartment upstairs. Which it's true I never lock, but that doesn't mean I welcome strange men prowling around up there, poking through my stuff.

Because Dad is a strange man. To me. I mean, relatively speaking.

"I hope you don't mind," Dad says, apparently noticing the direction of my gaze. "I figured somebody better fry these up, or they were going to spoil. I was in your apartment, looking for your mother's number."

"In the refrigerator?" I ask.