Home

Apparently her meeting with Georgie went well the following morning, because Olivia showed up at my flat with take away and a huge grin on her face. I sighed as I let her in.

“Your book is going ahead as planned,” she burst out, setting the Chinese food on the coffee table. “Georgie is happy as a pig in shit right now, and we’d like to keep it that way, so nothing can interfere with this TV thing.”

“It’ll go extremely well, you know, except for the part where people are going to have to look at me,” I said, rolling my eyes and shooing Sherman from the couch so we could sit down with the food.

“Stop that,” ‘Liv snapped, breezing into the kitchen to get plates and silverware. I was silently glad I’d actually gotten around to doing the dishes the day before.

“So why exactly are you here?” I called to her as I peeked inside one of the cartons. “There are phones for this type of news, you know.” The chicken fried rice was mouthwatering, so I peeked in another carton to see what else she’d brought.

“I figured I’d treat you to lunch,” she said, shrugging as she carried the plates over to me. “And since you won’t go out, this seemed like the logical choice for doing that.”

I knew I should say thanks, but I was too embarrassed by her openly friendly attitude to do anything but dig into the food in front of me. She seemed to understand because she let it go and started dishing up some amazing-looking chicken chow mein and stir-fried vegetables. I swear, I was in heaven.

“Do I dare ask what show you’re thinking of for me?” I said after we’d chewed in silence for awhile.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said around a mouth full of egg roll. “Do you have a preference?”

“I don’t really watch TV,” I said, spearing a piece of lemon chicken with my fork. “I figured you’d have an idea of what show would give me the most exposure.” I almost choked on that last word, considering it was the one thing I wanted least.

“Georgie and I actually discussed having you on an American show,” Olivia said calmly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to fly me across the Atlantic and put me on TV in front of an even bigger crowd of people.

“If you book me on Dr. Phil or Oprah, I quit,” I said, shuddering at the idea.

“No, no, nothing like that,” she assured me, shaking her head slightly. “Something like the Today Show, or The View is more up our alley. They’re the audience we’re trying to reach, after all.”

“Oh God,” I groaned, setting my plate on the coffee table. I had definitely lost my appetite.

“It won’t be that bad,” ‘Liv said, handing my plate back to me. “Trust me.”

“I trusted you at my mother’s wedding, remember?” I pointed out, somewhat bitterly, I’ll admit. “And look what happened there.”

“You can’t honestly pin that on me,” she said, her head snapping up to look at me. “I had no idea your mother would be such a cow.”

“I know,” I said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that my last somewhat public experience wasn’t exactly glowing, you know? I can just imagine what will happen if the audiences at those shows catch sight of my scars and react, the way I know they will. I’ll freeze, or cry, or puke, or something, and it won’t be good. That’s the part that makes me really nervous.”

“What does Orlando think of this?”

That threw me, and I almost choked on my food again. “What do you mean?” I said slowly.

“I’m not dumb, Peyton,” she said, reaching for her purse and her cigarette pack. “I know that the wedding wasn’t the end of your contact with him. And I know that all the times I’ve called you and the line was busy, you weren’t calling 900 numbers. From what you’ve told me, there aren’t very many people who can capture your attention for hours at a time without getting a fist in their face.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. I hadn’t thought that she’d be trying to call me when I was on the phone with Orlando. It still surprised me that she called me at all.

“And when I put that alongside your recent Suzie Sunshine attitude, it makes sense,” she continued. “One of these days you’ll realize that I’m not the bitch you think I am, and that you can actually talk to me about these things.” She almost sounded hurt as she pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

I didn’t know what to think, or what to say. She’d gotten me through a hard time, helped me keep from going over the edge, and yet I still wasn’t thinking of her as a friend. I suddenly felt bad about that.

“I guess I’m just not used to sharing those kinds of things,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “And, I know it’s stupid, but I kind of feel like if I talk about it, it’ll go away.”

“Orlando?”

“The whole experience,” I said, feeling my face heat up. “Every time he calls when he says he will, I get a little thrill in my stomach, and shivers race up and down my spine. I can’t really explain it, and I’m not sure I want to. I just know that it’s different than anything I’ve ever felt before, and it still feels like it’s not real somehow. That’s why I don’t talk about it.”

“It sounds like you’re falling fast,” ‘Liv said, a cheeky smile on her face as she puffed on her cigarette. Thankfully she blew the smoke away from me.

“It sounds like I’m becoming the kind of idiotic puffballs I’ve always despised,” I said, rolling my eyes. The grin that split my face was completely unexpected. “And yet, I can’t help it, and somehow I don’t want to help it.”

“Are you going to see him again?” Olivia asked, crossing her too-long legs and leaning back in her seat. “In person, I mean?”

I hesitated, knowing she’d think I was a moron if I told her what I really thought.

“Well?”

“I don’t think I’m up to that yet,” I said finally, unable to meet her eyes.

“Why the hell not?” she snapped, a little harshly. “The man’s a god, and you’re sitting here, telling me you don’t want to be in the same room with him? Fuck that.”

“That’s the problem,” I said, shocked that her attitude wasn’t pissing me off yet. I actually wanted to talk to her about this. “I don’t want to be seen in public with him, he’s too beautiful, and I’m too hideous.”

“You’re a moron,” she sighed, though the harshness was gone. I braced myself for a lecture, and was surprised when it didn’t come.

“That’s it?” I said after she’d been silent for too long. I didn’t like the way she watched me, like she was trying to figure me out.

“I don’t think reaming you out right now is going to help,” she said, taking another drag off her cigarette, and dropping the ashes onto her empty plate. I made a mental note to get an ashtray for my coffee table, in case she decided to make these visits a regular thing. I was fairly sure I could get one with my grocery delivery that week.

“So you’re not going to say anything about this?” I pressed when she didn’t go on. “That’s shocking.”

“The fact is, Peyton, I understand it,” she said quietly. “I think you’re on drugs, but I understand it.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” she said, leaning toward me, her cigarette dangling between her fingers. “The way your mind works, the way you see yourself, of course it makes sense that you’d be afraid to be seen with someone like him. You see these flaws in yourself, and putting you next to someone like Orlando will only serve to magnify those insecurities as you focus on how perfect he is and how perfect you think you aren’t.” She explained it as though she were giving a lecture in some hoity-toity college somewhere, very matter-of-factly, almost formally.

“Something like that,” I said, mulling over what she’d said. “It’s so hard to imagine what people will say if they see us together. I’ll be such an embarrassment to him, I have no doubt that we’d have one dinner and he’d head for the hills.”

“That argument might have worked if he hadn’t already seen you,” she said gently. “He knows what you look like, and he doesn’t care, does he?”

I shook my head, but didn’t say anything.

“So what makes you think he’ll care about being seen with you in public?” She shook her head. “Your hang-ups aren’t necessarily his.”

“He’s used to beautiful people, remember?” I said, trying not to let that idea wash over me and depress me even more than it already did. “He shouldn’t be expected to put up with a troll like me. Did you see the woman he was dating before? I should have a hump and tentacles next to that one.”

“The operative word there is ‘was,’” Olivia said, butting out her cigarette in frustration. “He’s not dating her anymore, is he? Did you ever think that the movie star type is boring to him now? That models and their ilk are just not interesting anymore? Did that ever cross your mind?”

I didn’t want to admit that those were the exact things I told myself when I wanted to feel better about such a shitty situation. He’d told me himself, hadn’t he, that shallowness was a turn-off? But, then again, he could have been lying his ass off just to get me to keep talking to him. I couldn’t be sure, and until I was, I wasn’t going to believe anything other than what I already thought.

“Peyton, you are so frustrating sometimes,” Olivia burst out when I didn’t answer her. “You know damn well that he’s interested in you, that he likes you for who you are and doesn’t give a shit what you look like, and yet you’re creating all of this crap in your own head, just to talk yourself out of being happy.”

That stung. I looked at her for a second, trying to process what she’d said. She didn’t know me well enough to make that kind of judgment, to know what was going on in my head. Until recently, our contact had been limited to a few phone calls a week, strictly business, mostly her yelling at me to hurry up with my latest pages. Why the hell was she pretending to give a shit now? Did she think I needed to be coddled to produce my next best seller? Was she hoping this newfound whatever-it-was with Orlando would stimulate my creative juices and make my writing better?

I looked away from her so that something nasty didn’t come out of my mouth when I didn’t want it to.

“Can we not talk about this?” I said after a couple of deep breaths. “I don’t need you to tell me that I’m messed up, okay? I figured that out all on my own, and the last thing I want to do is show him how truly fucked up I am.”

My own words surprised me, but I knew as I said them that they were true. That made me stop short. I didn’t know what else to say.

“You’re not fucked up,” Olivia sighed, then paused. “Well, at least no more so than anyone else. Do you really believe you’re the only one who has issues with what they look like? Hell, I can name you five people right now who are every bit as insecure as you are, if not more so.”

“They’re reclusive nutcases, too?” I muttered, pulling Sherman up onto my lap as he drifted in front of me, eyeing the chicken on the coffee table. “Oh, and crazy cat ladies to boot?” I added, despite myself.

“That’s my point,” ‘Liv said calmly. “They deal with their shit well enough to go out into the world, and I think you could, too. I think that someone like Orlando is just what you need.”

“Someone who makes me feel even more inferior?”

“No, someone who can make you feel good about yourself for a change,” she said, a sincere expression on her face. “You know how unpleasant you can be sometimes, how downright mean you are when you feel like it. The last couple of days have been like a dam has burst and all the positives you’ve fought for years have come flooding out. I haven’t seen my favourite bitch since before the wedding, and that’s saying something.”

“So you’re telling me that my personality issues were easily solved by some pretty boy?” I said, sarcasm dripping from every word. I crossed my arms over my chest, much to Sherman’s dismay, as it meant I had to stop petting him.

“Of course that’s what you’d hear in what I said.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying a man has changed you, I wouldn’t be that superficial. What I’m saying is that this particular man has given you a reason to stop hating yourself and your life, and given you something to look forward to. You get like this when you start a new book, too, but not nearly to this degree. Don’t push away something good, something you obviously enjoy, just because your insecurities get in the way.”

“I didn’t realize you came here to give me a pep talk,” I said, jumping up and starting to clear the food away. I was beyond uncomfortable now, with the turn this conversation had taken, and I needed to do something with my hands to busy myself, to keep from crumbling in a heap on the floor because her words were more true than I’d have liked.

“That wasn’t my intention, Peyton,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “But you clearly need one.”

“I need that like I need a hole in the head,” I hissed, more to myself than to her. “What I need is people to know their place in my life and not pretend to be more a part of it than they really are.” I felt backed into a corner, and I wanted to lash out.

“That was low,” Olivia said, getting up from the chair, a hurt expression on her face. “You honestly think I’m delusional when it comes to our relationship? I’m trying to help you, Peyton, to be your friend. You can’t take it out on me if you don’t know how to have friends.”

The look in her eyes, the way she stood there, kind of like a child who’s being reprimanded for something she didn’t do, hit me quite hard. I felt guilty for trying to hurt her, but I didn’t know how to say that, to tell her how I felt. I wanted to be her friend, she’d proven more of a friend to me than anyone else in my life ever had, and here I was, trying to push her away, just like I wanted to do with Orlando. If it were even possible, I suddenly felt even worse about myself.

“I’m sorry, ‘Liv,” I said, feeling my face heat up as I blushed. “I just don’t like talking about this, and I really don’t know how to. Feelings weren’t exactly encouraged in my house, you know?”

“Which is why I haven’t walked out and told you to fuck yourself yet,” she said, relaxing a bit, her face softening. “Notice I said ‘yet,’ Peyton. I don’t deserve to be treated like that, and you know it. I just want to be here for you.”

“I know, and I do appreciate it,” I said, though the words felt really awkward coming out of my mouth.

“So what are we going to do about this Orlando thing?” ‘Liv said, sitting back down. I was thankful she let our more awkward conversation go.

“We?” I asked, looking at her like she’d grown a second head. “What do you mean, ‘we?’”

“You’re obviously not going to deal with him yourself,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I figured if I helped, you might actually see him in person again.”

“How are you going to help me?” I said, unable to hide the skepticism in my voice. After being shit on for so long, I had no idea how to react when someone offered to go out of their way for me. It made me feel strange, and more than a little uncomfortable, which seemed to be the theme of this little visit.

“There’s got to be a way you can spend time with him, without worrying about being seen,” Olivia said, going into her problem-solving mode. I’d heard it many times over the phone, noticed the subtle change in her voice as she switched gears, but seeing it was downright intimidating. The set of her jaw changed, her eyes narrowed slightly, and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

“Other than meeting him here, or at his place, both of which are out of the question, I don’t see how it’s possible,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, my stomach knotting at the very idea of having him in my home, or, God forbid, me in his.

“Why are they out of the question?” ‘Liv asked, her eyes snapping up to my face. She’d been gazing at the carpet with unfocused eyes, and now they seemed to be flashing at me.

“I couldn’t have him here,” I said, looking around at my small flat, my mess spewing out everywhere. Having Olivia in my living room was bad enough, but Orlando didn’t need to know that I preferred to live like a borderline pig. “There’s no way I could invite him into this little dump.”

“If you clean it up, you could,” she argued, moving forward in her seat. She started to talk faster. “Where else would you be as comfortable as you are here? This way, you could be yourself, without worrying about outside eyes making judgments on you. It wouldn’t be any different than talking on the phone with him, but this way you can get an eyeful of him. That’d be worth any discomfort in itself.” She gave me a somewhat dirty look. I pretended not to see it.

“I don’t do well face-to-face,” I pointed out, disregarding her comment. “I get flustered, I lose my words, I blush, and that just makes my deformity stand out even more.”

“You did just fine at the wedding,” she said, getting slightly frustrated with my lack of enthusiasm. “You certainly had no trouble putting your mother in her place.”

“I won’t be pissed off at Orlando, though,” I said, shuddering at the memory of all those eyes on me as I said my piece. “The only reason I could even speak to my mother like that was because she’d pushed me over the edge and I was beyond angry at her. Here’s hoping I won’t feel like that when I’m with Orlando.”

“Do you think he’ll care if you stumble over your words at first?”

“He might not, but I sure as hell will.” I felt sick at the thought of being a bumbling idiot in front of him.

“Then get over it,” she burst out, throwing her hands in the air. “You’ll make the extra effort to be coherent, and before you know it, you’ll feel just as comfortable with him in person as you are on the phone.”

“I still think you’re on crack,” I said, though her ideas didn’t sound as far-fetched as they should have. As I sat and listened to her talk over the next couple of hours, I actually started to believe she was on to something, and I started to give myself the credit she seemed to think I deserved. By the time I closed the door behind her, my mind was already starting to work, and I wasn’t quite sure what I’d end up with.