Etta buries her head in Aunt Viv’s pillow thoroughly mortified by this display of two grown women falling all over themselves to win the favor of the good gay doctor.
“You women are the best thing to happen to me this week. The view is not usually this lovely in the hospital.” Golden Boy chuckles. “You let me know when it’s time to whip up some of those quiches. I’m actually pretty good with a knife. Prosciutto is a meat, right?” This guy clearly spends way too much time eating hospital grub and food truck fare if he lives in the foodiest city in America and he’s questioning if prosciutto is a meat.
Opening the door, Dr. Golden leans over and whispers in my ear, “And, Josie, you’re hands down my favorite director of admissions so far. Trust me, Daniel’s made me meet them all.” His lips are so close to my earlobe he could easily take a nibble. The idea of it makes me shudder and then stifle a snicker knowing Roan will get a real laugh when I tell him we’re both turned on by the same eye candy.
“We ARE the best things to happen to you!” Lola shouts after him, clumsily punching the air and kicking her foot to close the doorbehind him. Yet again, she’s momentarily lost control of her limbs and her self-respect.
“What was that?” I ask Lola, horrified by her display of uninhibited dorkiness. “And where did it come from?”
“God, I have no idea,” Lola groans, mortified, burying her head in her hands.
“You may be able to handle your liquor, Lola, but you sure can’t handle yourself in front of men,” Aunt Viv chimes in before laying her head back and closing her eyes to rest.
“Good thing I have a rich fantasy life, because I’ve completely lost my mojo in the real world. But maybe he has a straight doctor friend for you? Gay or straight, you know good-looking guys always hang together,” Lola whispers to me, hoping if we stay quiet enough Aunt Viv will sleep a little. She digs her elbow into my ribs, making sure she’s been heard.
“Welcome to my no mojo world, Lo,” I say, reaching for Lola’s hand. “Now you know why there are dust bunnies rolling through my lady parts.”
“Awww, Mama, that’s disgusting!” Etta scrunches her face up as if the idea of her mother having sex is akin to taking a big whiff of foul milk. “Just get a man already so I don’t have to hear you and Lola talkin’ about your dried-up lady parts.”
“Etta baby, when your mama was your age she could stop traffic when she crossed the street, she was that beautiful. Problem is, she ain’t been out walkin’ much since Michael left,” Aunt Viv mutters, turning on her left side to get more comfortable. Lola nods her head in complete agreement. Though she has never once said it out loud, I know Aunt Viv still pines for the days of having Michael around the house. I don’t know if it’s Michael I pine for or if it’s for some sign from a man—an employed, attentive, intelligent man—that I’m still in the game, that I’m worthy of love. I know the early morning, twenty-year-old barista at my local café would Mrs. Robinson all overme, but I’m not looking for man-filler. I’m holding out for a winner. Only thing is, I don’t know if a winner will be able to find me behind the emotional fortress I’ve built around myself, brick by brick, over the past eighteen years.
“I think it’s time you hit the streets again, Josie. What’s the worst thing that could happen to you?” Aunt Viv’s words fade as she falls into much-needed sleep.
“I could get hit by a car.”
NINE
“Pick your poison. On the table I have a selection of vegan donut holes, Skittles, blueberries, dark chocolate–covered espresso beans, corn chips, and sparkling water.” I have worked hard to create a stress-eating buffet that expresses to Roan that I choose to stand in solidarity with him when it comes to his finicky vegan eating habits.
“I’m off gluten, corn, and sugar,” Roan smugly announces, reaching for the blueberries as if there’s an audience of health zealots in the conference room ready to give him a standing O. I peg him dead center in the forehead with a powdered donut hole. Take that, you clean-eating buzzkill. “You should try an elimination diet sometime, Josie—it would do wonders for your mood swings.”
I remind myself to fire Roan after we get through reading five hundred applications comprised of four essays each, over the next few months. That’s two thousand answers attempting to convey how ultimately perfect each family is for the Fairchild community. I would never make it through them all without Roan reading every couple essays or so with an accent to match the applicant—Irish,Indian, Texan, and Southern Californian are his strong suits. Something has to make the time pass, and nothing does the trick quite like espresso beans and tasteless humor.
“Uh-oh here we go, Roan. Oh, yes, one of our favorite genres has risen to the top: theperfection is my child’s greatest weaknesscategory. An oldie, but oh so good and overplayed. Remember the parents last year, or was it the year before, who claimed their child’s weakness was struggling to make friends because her perfectionistical tendencies intimidate other children. Perfectionistical isn’t even a real word. THAT was one of my favorites.”
“Really? I liked the year of the parents who said their child was genetically predisposed to genius, since he had dominant traits from both sides of the family. Remember they wanted to know if we are a West Coast testing center for Mensa and complete assurance that their child wouldn’t be penalized by the school or by his peers for the intellectually superior gifts he had inherited. Then they spent the next two pages sharing the details of Albert Einstein’s miserable, or was it misunderstood, childhood. A failed analogy complete with endless typos. That one belongs in someWhat Not to Do When You’re ApplyingtoKindergartenguidebook.”
“I don’t remember that one.”
“Yes you do, I’m pretty sure it was from my first year. Before I learned to pace myself on the snacks? I almost threw up from a Sour Patch Kids and kettle chip overdose.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right, you were an admissions virgin.”
“And you were the older director who popped an innocent assistant’s cherry. Now I daresay the mystery is gone in our relationship.” Roan sighs and reaches for another stack of applications.
I open the next family folder.
“Let’s hear what Vanessa Grimaldi has to say about her daughter, Antonia. Oh, oh, wait here’s a picture of sweet Antonia actually demonstrating her perfection.” I hold up the picture of Antonia in painteroveralls with a bandana securing her hair hunched over what looks to be a forged van Gogh,The Starry Night.
“That’s totally photoshopped, you know,” Roan huffs, barely giving the photo a second look.
“I don’t know, maybe not, she could be a prodigy, it’s possible.” As director of admissions I have to keep up appearances of neutrality and positivity toward each applicant. Roan doesn’t buy it.
“Or it could be paint by numbers. Which basically tells us that, at five, Antonia knows her numbers and primary colors. Hardly a prodigy.” Good point, I have to concede. I move on to read the first essay question:
1. What are your child’s greatest challenges?
While a typical little girl in many ways (she loves frozen yogurt and having her nanny French braid her hair), since Antonia was born while summering with our families on the Amalfi Coast, Tommaso and I have struggled to find peers for our sweet daughter to play with who are able to keep up with her ability to focus; produce quality drawings, sculptures, and three-dimensional structures; as well as her European tendencies toward more refined food and outings. We encourage Antonia to go outside and play American games with the neighborhood kids so she may be one of them, but she insists on intently working on her own masterpieces in her loft art room overlooking the Bay (views can be so inspirational; perhaps we should move her studio to the basement to encourage her to be a normal child!). Our hope is that by going to a school like Fairchild Antonia will be encouraged to spread her focus and perfectionist tendencies toward other endeavors. We know she has multiple talents and potential capabilities to discover and to share with the world, but right now she is limiting herself to art. Though a true raw talent due to alineage of famous Italian alfresco painters, she needs to expand her work and her learning, and we believe Fairchild is the best school for her to spread her wings.
