On Monday, Zadie successfully avoided Nancy until lunchtime. Dolores was spooning some of her macaroni and cheese onto Zadie’s plate as Nancy sat down at their table and squealed, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Is there going to be a date number two?”
“No, there’s not going to be a date number two.” Most of the other teachers ran errands or went to yoga class on their lunch hours. Zadie decided to tag along next time. A forty-five-minute downward dog was better than watching those giant puffy platypus lips ream her out for not liking Doug.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s offensive.” She looked at Dolores for backup, having told her the story before third period. Dolores nodded. Loyal friend and sexual deviant that she was.
Nancy opened her bag of salad greens and dumped them in a bowl. “Okay, I know the lesbian thing was a little off-color, but I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound racist when he called the valet ‘José.’”
“Considering that the valet was Asian, I’m guessing he did.”
“He was nervous. Just give him another chance. He really liked you. Even after you called him an imbecile.”
“Hard to get works every time,” Dolores said. Although Zadie couldn’t figure out what “hard to get” at a swingers’ party entailed. Wanna screw? No. Wanna screw now? Okay.
“Nancy, I appreciate your concern that I may become an old maid, but I really don’t think Doug is the answer to my affliction. I’m sorry. But I’m going to pass.”
Nancy pouted through the rest of lunch.
Before sixth period, Trevor approached Zadie’s desk. Wearing faded jeans and a tight T-shirt with an “Abercrombie Athletic Club” decal.
“Do they send you those for free?” Zadie pointed at his shirt. He looked down at it, confused.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Well, I just figured, with the catalog and all.”
“You’ve seen my catalog?” He looked baffled. As if it were beyond his imaginings that one of his teachers would look at the Abercrombie & Fitch catalog.
Now Zadie felt uncomfortable. As if she’d outed herself as a pervert who gazes at his shirtless torso. “It came in the mail. I thought I recognized you, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Yeah, it was me.” He grinned at her, lifting up his shirt. “Recognize me now?”
Oh, dear God. Trevor’s bare tanned skin only inches from her. Washboard abs, goddammit. Her favorite kind. She flushed and turned away until he pulled his shirt back down. “Yep, it’s you.”
“So, did you find anyone who went to Stanford?”
“I may have. I’m working on it.”
“That’d be awesome.” He gave her that dimpled grin again. Tucking his sun-bleached hair behind his ears. “By the way, if you’re not doing anything on Saturday, my band is playing at The Roxy. We kind of suck, but if you catch a buzz, we get better.”
Trevor onstage? Singing or playing guitar or whatever sexy thing he did? Out of the question. It would be completely
unbearable. “I’ll be at a bachelorette party, but maybe I’ll try to stop by.”
“Bachelorette party? Definitely bring them by! We can always use horny girls in the audience. Even if they’re old.”
If Zadie had had a penis, it would’ve become flaccid at that very moment.
After school, she drove to the dry cleaners to pick up her bridesmaid dress from the little old lady who did the alterations. The dress had been too long, but that was the least of its sins. It was pink and shiny and backless. Which meant that Zadie wouldn’t be able to wear a bra. Who the hell ordered backless bridesmaid dresses? Designer or not, it was ridiculous. And don’t even get her started on the shoes. It had probably taken an entire village in Taiwan a month to make each pair and it would take Zadie a month to pay for them. And because they were fucking pink, she’d never get to wear them again. Helen was evil. Pure evil.
She called Grey from her cell phone. “The fact that I’m going braless to your wedding is a bit distressing.”
“You might get lucky. I hear our minister is a real tit man.”
“Did you find out if that Karl guy went to Stanford?”
“Hold on.”
She pulled up to a stoplight as he put her on hold. A white guy in a Domino’s uniform in the Nova next to her was singing along to some rap song and making the accompanying menacing hand gestures. Zadie wondered if he knew how asinine he looked.
Grey came back on the line. “Nope, sorry. San Jose State. I knew it was up north somewhere.”
“Crap.” Zadie sincerely wanted to help Trevor, but she also wanted an excuse for him to maybe hug her.
“If he doesn’t get in, maybe he’ll go to USC and you can crash his fraternity parties,” Grey said.
“Shut up. I’m wearing pink for you.”
“I’ve gotta go. Helen’s on the other line.”
“Ask her what I’m supposed to do with my boobs.”
“Put’em in your purse.”
He hung up as Zadie pulled up to the next stoplight, the rap enthusiast still next to her, flailing away. Right as she was thinking he couldn’t possibly be any more of a loser, he turned and caught her staring, then gave her a big wink and licked his lips.
She was a lucky, lucky girl.
The day of the bachelorette party began with the neighbor’s cat climbing through the bedroom window and sitting on Zadie’s bed, meowing into her face with hot tuna breath that seemed as if it were coming out of someone’s ass.
Zadie kicked the cat out, brushed her teeth, and cursed Taco Bell for not causing her to wake up nauseous. Why else would anyone eat refried beans? Certainly not for the aesthetic presentation.
As she made the drive to Beverly Hills, Zadie mentally prepared herself for a day of biting her tongue and flinching with annoyance. She would try to avoid openly cringing if at all possible, but she could promise nothing. If someone started talking about cesareans, colonies, or Dr. Phil, all bets were off.
When she pulled up to the valet at Barneys—not the dive bar Barney’s, but the department store Barneys—where the party was kicking off at the restaurant on the roof for a “light breakfast,” she saw a large white limo in the parking lot. Since most of the other women were from Orange County, they all came together in chauffeured splendor. Zadie was in her Camry. Three weeks’ worth of smog were stuck to it and seven empty water bottles lay on the floor of the front seat, along with an empty bag of Pirate’s Booty from Trader Joe’s. The valet looked at her with pity.
When she got to the roof, overlooking the unspectacular south-of-Wilshire view of Beverly Hills, the other women were already there in their yoga clothes, bombarding her with cheery hellos. “Zadie! Hi!” Helen gave her a hug. Denise waved a bagel at her.
Eloise squealed, “Oh, my God, I have that same exact purse. Except mine’s bigger.” The one-upping had begun. Oh, what a fun day it would be. Eloise looked nothing like Grey. And since Grey was handsome, this unfortunately meant that Eloise was not. But she tried to make up for it with a quirky jet-black asymmetrical bob and “edgy” cat-eye glasses in order to make herself look more interesting. It didn’t work.
Big Ass Betsy was next in the parade of hellos. Her red ponytail swung from side to side as she moved in for a hug. She was soaked in enough Estée Lauder perfume to make Zadie’s eyes water. “I haven’t seen you since Helen’s twenty-fifth.” Big Ass Betsy did not actually
have
a big ass, she was, in fact, a big ass. She’d known Helen since high school, where Betsy had been one of those girls who joins every club, runs every event, and chases every boy. To no avail. Thus bringing about years of sexual frustration that had since been finely honed into a severe state of obnoxiousness. “Remember that haircut you had?” Big Ass Betsy rolled her eyes. “I hope you got your money back.”
Oh, what a fun, fun day it was going to be.
Helen pulled out a chair for Zadie to sit. “Let me introduce you to everyone. This is Gilda. She was my Alpha Gam roommate and she flew in from Boulder just to be with us.” Helen and Gilda had gone to school in Texas, where Helen was the perfect sorority girl and model student. Although how hard could it be to get straight As when your course load was composed of classes like Textiles and Pucci vs. Gucci?
“Hi, Zadie. Nice to meet you.” Gilda seemed normal. Pleasant even. She had that well-scrubbed, hair-parted-in-the-middle, baggy-T-shirt Colorado casual look about her. It occurred to Zadie that Gilda was probably the only person there aside from Denise who had ever seen Helen without makeup.
“You remember Marci and Kim from my Junior League fundraiser?”
Vaguely. They had a suburban-mom look about them—chin—length brown hair and Keds. And they were cutting their fruit into tiny pieces.
“And Jane. From high school.”
Ah, yes, Plane Jane. The flight attendant. The girl who didn’t realize that sunflower seeds came from sunflowers. A striking Veronica Lake blonde with boobs that rivaled Helen’s, but not someone you’d turn to for practical advice. She smiled at Zadie and gave her a lazy wave.
“And this is Cassandra and Phoebe from the shop.”
Two surgically enhanced twenty-three-year-old fashionistas in halter tops and yoga hot pants whom Zadie had never seen before. Skinny and Snotty. She hated them and their overstraightened, stripey hair on sight.
“Cassandra’s the one who found those amazing bridesmaid dresses for me, so you all have her to thank,” Helen said.
Zadie reminded herself to stab Skinny with a fork at some point during the day. In the meantime, she speared a chunk of pineapple and tried to make conversation with the other Orange County gals. “So, you all took a limo up?”
Big Ass Betsy raced to be the first to answer. “Our driver is an idiot. We had to explain to him how to get to Barneys.”
Zadie looked around for a mimosa. None to be found. “Well, he probably doesn’t shop here.”
The other women looked at her as if this had never occurred to them.
Eloise piped up. “So, Grey told me you had the worst date ever the other night.”
Why, why, why would Grey share this with Eloise?
“Yeah, it was pretty bad.”
“That’s nothing. I went out with a felon on Tuesday. Convicted and everything.” Eloise buttered her croissant with the pride that only a one-upping felon-dater can muster.
Helen gasped, appropriately horrified at the thought. “What was he arrested for?”
“Insider trading. Spent two years in one of those white-collar prisons. He didn’t tell me until dessert.”
Zadie was sure that the guy had made it up in order to get out of an after-dinner drink. Eloise probably had dates who would steal a car to get away from her.
Helen was concerned, of course. “Well, I hope you’re not going to see him again.”
“Absolutely not. Can you imagine his credit after something like that?”
Denise leaned over and grabbed the tub of cream cheese from the center of the table. “Did he tell you if he was someone’s bitch while he was in jail?”
Marci and Kim gasped, along with Helen. Prison rape was a bit raw of a topic for breakfast. Or maybe they were just horrified that Denise was eating so much dairy.
Eloise wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t ask.”
Cassandra leaned over and inspected Zadie’s purse. “Is that a Balenciaga?”
Zadie glanced at her purse and looked back at Cassandra. “Only if they sell Balenciagas for ten bucks on the Venice boardwalk.”
Cassandra didn’t even crack a smile. Phoebe was equally stonefaced. Don’t fuck with fashion around Skinny and Snotty.
Gilda leaned over and whispered in Zadie’s ear. “Do you think we can ditch these two before the end of the day?”
“God, I hope so.” Zadie smiled at her, glad to have at least one ally at the table.
Helen put her napkin on the table and stood up. “Who’s ready for kundalini yoga?” Big Ass Betsy, Plane Jane, Eloise, Marci and Kim, and Cassandra and Phoebe all leaped up with glee. Denise, Zadie, and Gilda were a little bit slower to rise. “I promise you’ll all love it. And kundalini is perfect for pregnant moms, so no one has to worry about Denise,” Helen assured them.
Denise didn’t look worried about the baby, she just looked nauseous in general as she pushed her plate away. French toast with hollandaise sauce tends to make one a bit woozy.
“Let’s go, everyone!” Helen led the way to the elevator, as Denise leaned over and discreetly puked into the bowl of mixed fruit. Zadie stayed behind to make sure she was okay. Denise looked up at her, completely miserable.
“Two more months of this.”
Zadie tried to be positive. “But just think. Then you’ll have a baby”
Denise didn’t look any happier. “Exactly.”
Golden Bridge Yoga was on 3rd Street, and had no parking lot to speak of, so the limo came in handy. The fellow yogis in the lobby looked out the window, expecting to see Madonna or some such celebrity debark, but alas, it was just a handful of swinging bachelorette party revelers, here to Zen out and discover their kundalini energy.
Zadie had been to a few power yoga classes in the past and had decided that yoga was something she liked having
done
, but in fact, hated the actual process of doing it. Although kundalini was supposed to be a more spiritual yoga practice and some people swore it brought them to heights of ecstasy, so Zadie was hoping it might be like the leg-press experience, which would be a small ray of sunshine in this otherwise dark day.
She plopped down on her mat in the back, next to Gilda.
“Do you think they’ll notice if we just fall asleep back here?” Gilda asked.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’s one of those classes where everyone has their eyes closed.”
They watched as Skinny and Snotty pushed their way to the front in order to sit next to Cindy Crawford. Helen sat in the middle, surrounded by Marci, Kim, Plane Jane, Eloise, and Big Ass Betsy. Denise was next to the door in case she needed to hurl again.
When the class started, everyone immediately got to chanting. Zadie chanted along with them, even though she had no idea what she was saying. Hindi wasn’t an elective at UCLA. She could be swearing vengeance upon the infidels for all she knew. Along with the chanting came rocking. And breathing. Lots of breathing. Breath of fire. Dog breath. People were actually sticking out their tongues and panting like dogs. Zadie figured when in Rome … After a few moments, it actually started to feel soothing. Something to do with releasing emotion through the diaphragm, according to the turbaned instructor.
Most of the class entailed doing the same repetitive motion for six minutes, before switching to another repetitive motion for six minutes. The ecstasy came for Zadie when they were finally allowed to stop. She looked around the room. Some people were actually crying. Others were aglow with their newfound kundalini fire. Helen beamed like she always did. Betsy was digging her yoga pants out of her crack. Eloise was faking spiritual bliss, trying to outdo the person next to her. Skinny and Snotty were checking out Cindy Crawford’s butt as she did the plow position, mentally calculating if theirs was any bigger. Marci and Kim were chanting in perfect precision, clearly skilled at it after many episodes of singing along with Barney. Gilda was in child pose, napping. Plane Jane wiped a tear away. Whether it was from boredom or emotional release, Zadie couldn’t tell. Denise had long ago left to puke in the bathroom, or maybe just wander the streets.
At the end of the class, they all got to lie on the floor in corpse pose and listen to some more chanting music. This was Zadie’s favorite part. But just as she was about to doze off, she was flooded with images of Jack. Damn that dog breath and its emotional release. The images came fast. She and Jack in bed, laughing at how ridiculously horny they were for each other. Jack’s infectious excitement after a good audition, and how he’d bring over In-N-Out burgers to celebrate. Jack kissing her in the fog the time they climbed up to the Hollywood sign and the entire valley was
covered in a cloud like they were looking down on it from heaven. Jack at her stove, scrambling eggs for breakfast while she watched from the couch, wearing his green Michigan State T-shirt. The day they got drunk at the beach on the one-year anniversary of the day they met, and slept it off in the sand, waking up in the dark, curled up in each other’s arms. All of it. All of the moments she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in the past seven months. Speeding past her closed eyelids. Her third chakra aching with the release.
And just as quickly as they came, they were gone. Like she’d finally purged him. And as the instructor turned down the music and instructed them to let go of their tension and embrace the peace within themselves and recognize their divinity, Zadie had a brief feeling that her life would be okay. Maybe things weren’t so bad. Maybe she would be perfectly fine. She could almost see it.
As they all
namaste
’d and stood up, Eloise looked across the room and said, “Isn’t she on
Days of Our Lives
?” Zadie looked to where Eloise was pointing and saw the anorexic redhead with the severely overplucked eyebrows who was kissing Jack the day she was forced to watch in the Jiffy Lube waiting room. She was giggling with her friend as she blotted her face with a towel. Having no idea she’d just stolen someone’s bliss.