Nobody’s Perfect

Chapter 20

My video about Parker went quickly because it was just me speaking and then a few cropped pictures of him holding that morning s bounty. I awarded him the Outstanding Achievement in Feminine Plumbing Product Acquisition Badge, otherwise known as the True American Hero Badge and the Man Who Actually Follows Instructions from a Woman Badge. I awarded myself the Wise Crone Who Communicates Through Bathroom Doors Badge.

All those titles were entirely too long, but I was feeling punchy about the whole thing and perhaps trying a little too hard, because I kept thinking of Tabitha singing about how she was saving all her love for my husband, a man I d wanted to go away but couldn t quit thinking about now that he actually had.

As I finally got the video to go live, I received a notice that YouTube was taking down my karaoke video because playing the songs violated some kind of copyright thing. I had a few choice words for them, but I would worry about what to do with that video later. The Divorce Badge video had surpassed four million views, but none of my others were anywhere close.

I pushed away my laptop so I could bang my head against the desk. Such violence only exacerbated the headache I had from forgetting to eat lunch because I d been fiddling with the video.

Face it, Vivian, it s back to online applications, even if you still haven t gotten one bite except for the one job that turned out to be a multilevel marketing scheme. The idea that your channel might be enough was little more than a pipe dream.

YouTube had approved me for monetization at least. I had ads and Google s AdSense going, but I couldn t tell how much money I would stand to earn. Based on everything I had researched, I was looking at enough money for another cup of coffee.

My phone rang as I walked into the kitchen. I didn t recognize the number, but I answered anyway because I was hoping it was my long-lost fairy godmother.

Yes?

This is Alavita Hodges from Rise and Shine Atlanta , and I was wondering if you might be available to come on my show next Tuesday.

On television?

She chuckled. It s a local morning show, but yes, on television. We re in fact the top-rated morning show in Atlanta, number one with women aged twenty-five to forty-nine.

I swallowed hard. That was the very demographic I was trying to reach.

I d love to join you.

Think you could get some of your Mom Scout pals to come with you? I especially enjoyed the recent karaoke video, and we have a clip of That s What Friends Are For ready to go.

I ll do my best, I said, not bothering to tell her about my current struggles with that video. Let them get in trouble for copyright infringement. Tuesday?

Yes, ma am. Tuesday morning, bright and early. We d like to have you all in makeup at five a.m.

I gulped.

Tell you what, I ll put you down for two people. How about that?

I mumbled something akin to yes, and the rest of the conversation was Alavita Hodges telling me what to expect and me answering with a yes or no. She gave me the contact information for her secretary, and I started working out how I would talk Rachel and Abi into doing this interview with me.

I d been off the phone for only ten minutes when it rang again. This time, it was a marketing representative from a new cosmetics company who wanted to fly me and two guests to New York for a free makeover.

They were the people behind the contest Dylan had mentioned. According to Deborah, the marketing representative in question, they thought I would be the perfect candidate for a Makeover Badge, so I d won their contest.

Having over four million views on a video, as well as my very own meme and GIF, probably didn t hurt.

I responded with an enthusiastic yes. Only after I d ended the call did my stomach roil with the fear the whole contest might be a sham.

Vivian, your life can t be all bad at this point. Try to be a little more trusting. Give Dylan some credit, too. He wouldn t have signed you up for something shady.

Would he?

I made a note to google the hell out of the company and double-check its reputation after my late lunch. I went into the kitchen, where Mom was stirring a pot of her signature vegetable-beef stew.

There you are! she said. I was beginning to think I would have to force-feed you.

You weren t waiting on me, I hope.

She didn t answer. That meant yes.

I told her about Alavita Hodges and the makeover opportunity. A quick search while Mom was ladling stew into bowls showed that the cosmetics company appeared to be legitimate.

My fifteen minutes of fame weren t up yet!

My earlier gloom melted into euphoria, and I danced around the house, even picking up Lucky and making her waltz with me until she d had enough of my human foolishness.

What s gotten into you? Mom asked suspiciously from where she stood in front of the stove.

Rumors of the death of my YouTube career were greatly exaggerated. Also, you re my favorite mother, I sang, leaning over to kiss her cheek. My stomach growled in agreement.

Vivian? Are you okay?

Mom, I am wonderful!

You just be careful, my mother said as she grabbed a box of crackers from the pantry. You re on an emotional roller coaster right now, and you will come down from whatever it is you re doing. Keep your wits about you.

Mom! Why are you harshing my mellow?

I m serious, Vivian. You may think you re happy enough to be over this divorce, but you re not over the hump yet.

Aren t you a ray of sunshine.

I am, at best, one of those lights for seasonal affective disorder, a stopgap measure until you can make your own sunshine.

Mom!

She ignored me and began eating her vegetable-beef stew. Lucky wound around her feet. That cat had always been a sucker for anything that smelled of beef.

Shoo, cat, Mom said with a gentle nudge of her foot.

Lucky gave an indignant meow-growl and trotted off.

Thanks for making lunch, Mom, I said as I sat down.

You re welcome. I know I didn t make your lunches a lot when you were little, but you didn t need it then. Now you do, or you ll forget to eat.

Forgetting to eat might not be that bad.

Hush, now.

I paused, my spoon of stew midair. I d never even asked Mom how long she could stay. What if I was keeping her away from things she needed to do?

Mom? Are things okay in Florida? I didn t call you here at a bad time, did I?

She smiled. Actually, you called me at a very good time. I was selling one condo and buying another.

I m sorry I didn t ask before, I said in a small voice, ashamed that I hadn t even considered what else was going on in her life. I mean, you can leave if you need to.

Don t worry. You can t get rid of me that quickly, she said with a wink.

She was trying to keep it light, but my gratitude threatened to bubble over and envelop me. I m glad you re here. And I m not just saying that because you keep feeding me.

Oh. If I d known I could ve bought you off with lunch, I would ve tried that a lot sooner.

My earlier elation ebbed. What s that supposed to mean?

Just that you ve been distant for a while.

Mom, I m sorry. I ve been busy. Even as I said the words, I thought about past digs and jabs through texts and calls. All the times I d said, Sorry! Gotta go, Mitch is taking me out to dinner soon, with the subtext that Mom had never had the kind of husband who bothered with date night. Or I d love to come down for a visit, but there s just so much to do to keep up with Dylan and Mitch. You d think you d have more time as they get older, but you don t, as a way of saying, Look at me! Look how indispensable I ve made myself to this family!

How very indispensable, indeed.

Mom . . . It was hard to find the words, much less push them out over the lump in my throat.

She took a sip of her water and looked at the news on her iPad, seemingly oblivious to the trouble I was having.

Mom . . . I tried again. The words I m and sorry were almost out when the doorbell rang. I ll get it!

I hopped up from the table, both relieved and disappointed in myself for being relieved. I opened the door wide to a very tall, muscular white man with a buzz cut.

Are you Vivian Quackenbush? he asked.

Uh, yes.

He handed me a manila envelope. Well, you ve been served.

He turned and walked away before I could respond. I stood there gaping like a fool, the envelope dangling from my hand, until Lucky raced outside.

And to think I didn t think it could possibly get worse than the folder I found in Mitch s sock drawer. Or the one from Abi that contained the photos of Mitch and Tabitha in flagrante delicto.

I tossed the envelope to the floor and raced after the cat.

Vivian? Mom called once I d returned with my snuggly escape artist.

I made sure the door had closed properly, then picked up the envelope and walked back to the kitchen as if in a daze. All my previous euphoria dissipated. Mom, I ve been served.

Shit.

Mom? I giggled a little because she wasn t much of a curser, that one night so long ago notwithstanding.

Ah, I d hoped we could serve him first.

Does it matter?

Eh, not really. Maybe?

I gulped.

It ll be okay. I ll walk you through it, Mom said as she drew me into another one of her Chanel No.5 hugs.

I still held the envelope of papers awkwardly at my side.

Come on and finish your lunch, she said when she let me go.

I sat down, but the beef stew I d been so excited about earlier now tasted bland, more vegetable than beef. I d found the massive dip in my emotional roller coaster, only I was stuck there and not going back up.

That afternoon, I decided to spend some quality time sitting on the couch and staring into space. I told myself to check up on the applications I d sent in, to maybe tweak my r sum or apply for more jobs, but the wall was so very interesting.

When the doorbell rang this time, I didn t even flinch. After getting served, I didn t see the need to answer the door anymore. Logically, I knew I couldn t be served twice, but I wasn t living in an entirely logical world at the moment.

I ll get it, Mom said from the dining room, where she was doing something on her laptop.

Hello, she said in that tone of voice she reserved for children and animals. She sure is here! Come on in.

I looked to my left and saw . . . Suja.

Oh, hey, Suja, I said with a smile so forced my muscles ached.

Miss Viv, Mom told me not to bother you, but could you still help me?

Of course!

I lost myself in the craft of painted canvas shoes for a good hour. I spoke in a silly voice to make Suja laugh and ended up feeling better myself. When I walked her to the door, my smile wasn t as forced anymore.

She paused. You re going to remember Mom s surprise party tomorrow night at Maggiano s, right?

Wouldn t miss it.

But that was when Mitch decided to show up as if he hadn t been missing for a couple of days, waving at a departing Suja and then waltzing through the front door like he owned the place.

My smile disappeared.

Come to get your things for good? I asked.

His smile disappeared, too. Nope.

I followed him through the house to the bedroom that used to be ours. I know you re sleeping with Tabitha, so why don t you go live with her?

Why did you say that out loud?

He froze, his back to me. You have quite the imagination.

No, I have a friend who s a private investigator.

His shoulders sagged. I keep forgetting that.

And I saw the two of you at karaoke.

He drew his scrubs over his head and walked to his chest of drawers, where he started taking out workout clothes. Maybe that s because you wouldn t go with me. Maybe there were lots of things you wouldn t do for me.

What s that supposed to mean?

He locked eyes with me. What do you think it means?

I think you re looking for excuses to justify your own selfish behavior and that you re scared to death of turning fifty, which makes you a clich .

I think you re jealous that I can get a younger woman.

I laughed out loud. I couldn t help it. I wouldn t care except for the part where we both pledged till death do us part. Last I checked, I wasn t dead.

You might as well be.

I ran a hand through my hair. These arguments aren t getting us anywhere. Being in each other s presence is causing nothing but high blood pressure, so-

Speak for yourself, he said as he stepped out of his pants and put on running shorts. I m perfectly fine and living my best life.

You need to live your best life somewhere else.

You wouldn t have this house without my money.

You wouldn t have made that money without me. Just because you don t value my contributions doesn t mean they weren t there.

Well, I m not leaving, he said. Except to go on this run.

He went out the front door, and I grabbed a pillow to scream into. After about my third muffled expression of rage, Mom said, Feel better now?

No. I m never going to get rid of him.

She walked across the room and wrapped me into a hug. Oh, come now. I didn t raise a quitter. If we weren t getting to him before, then he wouldn t have stayed away for a few days. We haven t even brought out the big guns.

The big guns? I asked, surprised by this Evil Genius version of my mother, even though I shouldn t have been.

Oh, yes. I have an idea of where we can start, but it would require you to share a bed with your dear old mom. And a screwdriver.