Perfectly Imperfect: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

HELL, HERE I COME.

I must have stood with my door open for five minutes before dragging myself out of my stupor. His comment had to have echoed in my mind over a million times before I finally shut the door, still utterly abashed. My heart was pounding in my chest so loudly I was positive the whole apartment complex could hear it. Maybe even all of New York City for all I knew. Where was Elise when I needed her? She would most definitely smack some sense into me. Literally. I needed her to bitch slap me right now and convince me it wasn’t a big deal.

Oh, but it was.

I covered my face with my hands, trying to rub away the memory. Although I knew neither Callum or I would forget it. It was always when I wasn’t thinking I did stupid things like that. I lolled my head back. He saw me. I didn’t have an awful figure, but I had always been a little self-conscious. It had taken me a little too long to feel comfortable around Parker nude. To a certain extent. I don’t think I’d ever be completely comfortable by my nakedness around anyone. And, yes, I was covered, but the sheerness of my lingerie made me feel like I had been confronting Callum with my goodies exposed.

I shuffled into my bedroom, falling on my bed thinking I’d never recover from that embarrassing moment. Although he was my next door neighbor, I knew I’d have to avoid him at all costs. For my own sake. There was no way I could see him again without my face turning fifty shades of red. The thing was, Nora Duval wasn’t supposed to blush from embarrassment. She only blushed from flattery. In fact, she was never supposed to embarrass herself at all.

In front of other people, at least.

The only ones who had seen my clumsy and awkward ways at full capacity were Noelle and Elise. And of course, the first time I met Parker, when I almost cracked my head open obliviously walking into an evil puddle of grape juice. Fortunately, he had looked past that shameful moment. How? I had absolutely no idea, but was eternally grateful to the big man upstairs for helping me pull that one off.

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand and couldn’t help but sigh. It was only seven in the morning and I had already managed to make a complete fool of myself. Not in front of just anyone either. In front of my beautiful bastard of a neighbor of all people. I decided to rummage my medicine cabinet for some Tylenol PM, knowing the long week ahead of me. To make matters worse I probably wasn’t even going to get to see Parker.

All I was sure of was that I needed to relax, especially since Sunday was my designated relaxation day. I surely wasn’t going to return to work with dark circles or bags under my eyes. I popped a couple of the pills, slipped under my covers, and waited for sleep to pull me in.

***

I woke up six hours later at around one in the afternoon. Shifting in my bed, I grabbed my charging phone to find my mother had called me. Four times. My groan of irritation was unstoppable. I loved my mother dearly and she may have not been aware of it, but she had this undeniable ability to get under people’s skin. Particularly mine. Ever since I was little her goal was to make each of her children complete perfection. Although I tried my best, I knew, to her, I wasn’t. It was why I tended to obsess about being flawless.

I was the kid whose mother forced her into beauty pageants expecting no less than first place. I grew to detest them to no end, but never once objected to my mother’s ball of fire. Most of the reason being that as my mother pushed Noelle into the pageants, she screamed her little heart out in resistance. Until my mother had no choice but to surrender. From then on her focus had entirely veered to me and I had never, not once, had the guts to say no. Even after the incident in high school, in which I had received endless lectures from my mother. Not only that, but strict instructions to never speak of that circumstance again. Which to this day, I hadn’t.

Since the moment Noelle rejected the pageants, she became the rebel. Leaving me with no other options than to take the roll as the perfect child. I had always been envious of her demurring our mother so easily. She may have been five years younger than me, but that didn’t matter. Even at that young age, Noelle knew exactly who she was and what she wouldn’t do.

When I was eight, Nathan was born. Noelle and I both spoiled our little brother mercilessly. He was a pretty good kid up until around the time he turned sixteen. Of course, he was a teenage boy. They had to have known the trouble would come some time. Noelle and Nathan were always closer since my focus was usually on everything my mother had coerced upon me. They had more freedom to do the things they wanted to do.

It wasn’t until my first year of college that I discovered my knack for art. Well, really paid attention to the fact that I had the capability to create art. For a while, drawing was just this little piece of me that didn’t have much significance. Then I began dabbling in painting, my real passion. I had found it to be a way to release my anxiety and worries all onto a canvas. Painting had this ability to soothe me into what seemed like endless peace and I couldn’t get enough of it. It had become such a private part of my life that no one was even aware of my extracurricular activity. I couldn’t figure out why, but I wanted it to stay that way.

Of course, eventually, my mother did find out. She always made her little comments about it, but I did my best to ignore her ignorance. She would never understand that I loved it too much to give it up.

Not everything that my mother made me do was horrible though, so I guess it wasn’t worth complaining about. Everything I had done resulted in a benefit for my future. I learned to maintain control over myself in even the most tempting of situations. For example, I had never been drunk. Buzzed maybe, but never drunk. At one point in my life, particularly in college, losing control appeared to be freeing and fun. Now, it just didn’t appeal to me. Drugs were always and will always be a no. I once, however, thought about getting a tattoo. Then woke up the next morning thinking how ridiculous it would not only be, but look on me. Tattoos were Noelle’s thing, and they needed to stay her thing.

When it came to sex, I made my boyfriend of three years wait two years until I was absolutely sure. It ended up not being everything I had ever hoped it would be and hurt like a mother. And it did not get better near the end. It hurt the whole time. But, nonetheless, I was glad to have gotten over that stage of my life.

When my mother met Parker she looked at me in a way that told me she had never been more proud of me in her life. It was relieving, yet completely terrifying. I knew I’d have to hold onto Parker for dear life, otherwise her eminent of me would lower greatly. Although, I would never let go of Parker anyway. Now that the wedding was just around the corner, my mother and my wedding planner, Deborah, were no doubt going to make every diminutive detail completely perfect. Because perfection wasn’t just the big picture, it was everything.

I sat up, reluctantly calling my mother back, praying she wouldn’t have anymore complaints on my appearance today. That comment about my hair yesterday cut a bit deeper than I should have allowed it to.

“Hoffman residence,” my mother answered in her proper-like way. I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t reel right out of my eye sockets. She knew it was me. We had caller ID at the house.

“It’s Nora,” I said, flatly.

“Ah, Nora. I was wondering what was taking you so long to return my calls.” I held in a sigh, knowing she wouldn’t hesitate in getting straight to the point. No how are you, not even a hello. I filed through the excuses that were running through my mind, trying and hoping to find a suitable one that she wouldn’t kill me for. If I had told my mother that I recently woke up, she would have my head. I had always been taught to wake up no later than eight in the morning. Now it was set in my internal clock, but that was the one rule I constantly wanted to break.

“I accidentally left it on silent. I’m sorry, Mother. What did you need?” I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for her response. It wasn’t a total lie. I always left my phone on silent while I slept on the weekends. Her exaggerated sigh reached my ears. I guess I had to have known either way she would have been disappointed. I could practically feel the reprimand penetrating it’s path, ready to capture me and drag me into my mother’s blighted hope.

“Nora, what if I had an emergency and needed to reach you immediately? What if something important had happened? Especially with the wedding approaching. We have to be prepared for disaster at all times. You must keep your volume on at all times. I mean, if you have your phone on silent, why have one at all? Really, Nora, what is the point if no one can reach you on it?” Her voice shrill, marking the end of her berating. I should have come up with a response to defend my honor. But I couldn’t. I never could. I pinched the bridge of my nose, inhaling deeply before apologizing for daring to do such a thing.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I forgot to put the volume back on when I woke up. It was an accident. It won’t happen again, I promise. Now, what did you need?” I replied calmly, silently praying she could get over my mistake and inform me of whatever she so badly needed to speak to me about.

“No need to get snippy, dear. I was just calling to confirm our lunch Tuesday.” She declared equally as calm. I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out in frustration as I badly wanted to find something to bang my head against other than my pillow. I had in no way or form been snapping at her and she only called to confirm lunch. With my free hand I grabbed my sheets, squeezing the hell out of them before answering her.

“Yes, Mother. We are still having lunch Tuesday,” I said, carefully avoiding to speak through gritted teeth. We had lunch every Tuesday at the same place at the same time.

“Great. I’ll see you then. Remember to keep your phone volume on. Goodbye, honey.” I hung up the phone, throwing myself back onto my bed, never wanting to leave it again. If only that were possible. My stomach then rudely growled at me, forcing me to get out of the warm, cozy bed.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise,” I whispered to the bed as though it would be saddened by my departure. I sullenly made my way to the kitchen in desperate need of something fried. I didn’t eat junk often, but tonight was an exception. I called in a order for chinese take out and turned on the television, waiting for my comfort food to arrive.

My thoughts drifted to my schedule for tomorrow. One thing I never confessed to anyone, almost not even to myself is that I hated my job. As I allowed my mother to manipulate most aspects of my life, I foolishly let her push me into the medical field. When people asked about what I did for a living they were always intrigued by it. Telling me how exciting it must be. Well, it wasn’t. Not for me at least. I worked as an ultrasound technician, specifically in obstetrics and gynecology. In other words, I measured and took pictures of babies for a living.

It wasn’t the babies that me hate my job. I liked children. Well, I liked children most of the time. It was the protruding bellies shoved in my face every hour of my nine to five day that spurred on this hostility. Making me undeniably uncomfortable. When I was studying, I thought I would be able to pull on my big girl panties and deal. Try and face my fears like the adult I tried to be, but it only made matters worse. I blamed all of it on my ninth grade biology class in which they decided it would be okay to present a video to fourteen year olds showing a live birth.

I clearly remembered two things. First, the dad making obnoxious whale noises to the poor infant trapped inside of the womb, forced to listen to his odd ball of a father. Second, the mother screaming for all that is good and holy as her shrieking baby thrashed his way out of her vagina. That was the moment I decided I was never having kids.

Ever.

All of the other girls were melting in the cuteness, mesmerized by the joy on the mother’s face as her child exited her lady bits. Her tears of supposed happiness as she held her baby for the first time. However, her blood-curdling screams seconds before burned in my mind. I failed to see the beauty in it all. I was only able to recognize the blood, sliminess, and pain. None of which appealed to me, and every time after I saw a pregnant stomach I was reminded of that awful moment in my teen years.

As I got older, the decision to never conceive had only proved to be a good judgement on my part. I had found many other things I had to take into consideration before bringing a child into my life. My mother. I had known her well enough to know she would take the reigns on raising my children whether I liked it or not. No chance was I going to stand by and let that happen. Instead of growing a pair of lady balls and standing up for my future children, I went with the cowardly way out. To avoid the situation at all costs.

It wasn’t just those details that had me running either, though. It was also what it would put my body through. I saw what it did daily.

The stretch marks that no cream or oil could make disappear, no matter how much money you were willing to invest. The inevitable weight gain that would take months, maybe years, to shed. If possible to shed at all. The emotional up and downs. Didn’t girls experience enough of that already? Did pregnancy really need to add more uncontrollable emotions into the mix? Apparently it did. The constant exhaustion, especially once the baby was born. And finally, the worst of it all, the black hole that was once known as a vagina. Well, I didn’t know if that was true, but your privates had to expand somewhat due to the fact that a tiny human would have escaped from there. If one day I ever decided I wanted children, I’d adopt. It was a win-win solution for everybody.

Saving my uterus and a child in the process.

My doorbell rang, sounding oddly like an angels chorus to my ears. The food had arrived. I quickly scrambled for my wallet and headed for the door. Making sure to tip the guy very generously because getting my food put me in that much of a good mood. I unpacked the mouth watering items, ready to feast. I planned on finishing all of it.

I set up a little tray in front of the television, in the mood to watch Heathers. Whenever someone said something I found to be outrageous or unintelligent, my mind always echoed Heather’s words. “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” I could never control that thought.

Halfway through the movie my phone went off with my favorite ringtone. I immediately grabbed the remote to mute it and launched across the couch for my phone. I managed to catch my breath before answering like I hadn’t just manically dove for it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Nora. What’s new, babe. I miss you,” his words traveled straight to my heart. I smiled, then frowned remembering the events that had occurred earlier in the day. Well. My neighbor is an extremely attractive, conceited son of a bitch that saw me in your favorite lingerie. Same old, same old. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at myself. I never swore in front of Parker or anyone for that matter. Most of the time the naughty words and thoughts just popped into my head out of nowhere. At least that’s what I liked to tell myself.

“Nothing really. I just relaxed today. I miss you, too. A lot. How about you? How’s your brother?” Very few things frustrated Parker, so when I heard him sigh, I was immediately overwhelmed with concern. Not to mention guilt. Here I was, an adult dealing with an asshole, while Parker was dealing with a hormonal teenager. His situation was much worse, if you asked me.

“I’m glad you got to relax. I’m okay. This morning I woke up to find half of my beer had disappeared and a girl in bed with Kev. I have no idea how or when he had the time to find someone to sleep with. When I confronted him he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about. Apparently my beer had magically walked out my front door and a girl fell from the sky.” He sighed again. He sounded like someone had kicked his puppy. Multiple times. And he didn’t even have a puppy.

I stopped myself from sighing as well and showed him he had my sympathy. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help with advice, but I know nothing about teenage boys. Maybe you could put him in time-out and threaten to throw away his toys? In this case his toys would be the alcohol and the girl you found in bed with him.” I suggested, hoping to get a chuckle out of him.

I loved the sound of his laugh, it always brought a smile to my lips. To me it was the best sound in the world. Sure, I loved his smile. But his laughter had sweetness, yet somehow sexiness to it at the same time. It made me want to jump him no matter where we were or who was watching. I smiled at my success when he let out his wonderful laugh, and ignored the desire flopping around in my stomach.

“You know, that might just work. You’re more help than you think. When we have kids you’re going to be the best mom ever.” His words threw me, especially since they didn’t contain a hint of sarcasm. Before he could get nervous about saying that, I laughed as lightly as I could manage. Parker and I never talked about kids. It was just something that never came up. I guess he supposed I’d be all for it, but he had no idea that hell would have to freeze over in order for me to pop out a child. Not even then could I guarantee allowing that to happen.

Some people’s best friend was alcohol, some the internet, mine was my birth control (no offense to Elise), but I wasn’t ready to give them up, probably not in ten years either. Or maybe I just wanted to hold onto them forever.

Maybe I was being selfish, but it was my body. I loved Parker with all of my heart, but was it sad that I didn’t love him enough to bear his children? To make the sacrifice? I guess I could only hope that he was in favor of adoption. And that he wouldn't want to dig deep down into my issue with pregnancy. I took a deep breathe and... lied.

“Yeah. Someday.”

Lying wasn't something I usually did. However, today it seemed to be becoming a theme. It killed me that I had just told one to Parker. And a massive lie at that. I knew this was going to eat at my flesh until I told him how I really felt. Knowing that, though, didn't make me want to tell him the truth anytime soon. If I could get away with keeping my secret forever, I was sure I would find a way to do it.

I left it at that, digressing into another topic. I was not about to have the children conversation with him over the phone. That would be incredibly wrong of me. I got up from the couch and began pacing as I usually did while I was on the phone. We spoke for at least an hour, while the children issue was taunting me in the back of my mind. When we said our goodbyes an unholy number of thoughts consumed me.

I locked myself in the bathroom, leaning over the sink. My eyes met the mirror, searching my face. Passing over the freckles that sprinkled over my milky white complexion. I had personally always hated them. Over my nose which was neither too big or too small, but right in the middle. My plump, pinkish lips. Parker and I had been watching Mad Men one day and he had taken it upon himself to inform me that my lips were quite similar to Christina Hendrix's lips. Which led to a kiss, which quickly escalated into much more. The memory made me blush, but it disappeared as I found my light brown eyes in the mirror.

Oh, God. I’d rather knee him in the groin than tell him I didn’t want children.

I was going to hell. No doubt about it.