Big Girl- Danielle Steel

[Dalyia]

Chapter 7
Eric Walker, the head of the Madison School, made the call to Victoria himself in the first week of March. He said it had been a tough choice between her and several other teachers, but he was happy to tell her that she had the job, and she was thrilled. He said a contract had been sent to her by mail.
She was going to be the youngest member of the English department, and she would teach four classes, to sophomores, juniors, and seniors. She had to report for teachers' meetings on September 1st, and school would start the following week. In exactly six months, she was going to be teaching at the Madison School in New York. She could hardly believe it. And unable to keep the good news to herself, she called her parents that night.
"I was afraid you'd do something like that," her father said with a disapproving tone. He actually sounded disappointed in her, as though she'd been arrested for taking her clothes off in a supermarket and was in jail. As in why did you go and do a dumb thing like that? "You're never going to make a penny as a teacher, Victoria. You need to get a real job, in advertising or PR, or something in the communications field. There are lots of things you can do. You can work in the PR office of any major company. You can go to work at McDonald's and make more than you will as a teacher. It's a total waste of time. And why New York? Why not here?" He didn't even ask what kind of school it was, and gave her no credit for landing her first job, in a first-rate school, against stiff competition. All he had to say was that it was the wrong job in the wrong city, and she'd always be poor. But teaching was her chosen career, and it was one of the country's best private schools.
"I'm sorry, Dad," she said, apologizing for it, as though she had done something wrong. "It's a really great school."
"Really? How much are they paying you?" he asked bluntly. She didn't want to lie to him, so she told him the truth. And she knew too that it was going to be hard to live on, but it was worth the sacrifices to her, and she wasn't planning to take anything from him. "That's pathetic," he said, sounding disgusted, and handed the phone to her mother, who sounded worried the minute she got on the phone.
"What happened, dear?" her mother asked.
"Nothing. I just got a terrific job, teaching at a wonderful school in New York. Dad just thinks they're not paying me enough, that's all. But it's a real coup that they hired me at all."
"It's such a shame that you want to be a teacher," her mother said, echoing the party line, and managing to convey to Victoria, just as she always had, that she had failed, and was a disappointment to them. They took the fun out of everything for her, and always had, and any sense of accomplishment over what she had achieved. "You could make so much money doing something else."
"I think I'll really like the job, Mom. I love the school," she said, sounding young and hopeful, and trying to hold on to the excitement and enthusiasm and pride she had felt before she called.
"I suppose that's nice, dear. But you can't be a teacher forever. At some point you'll have to get a real job." When did teaching become not a "real" job? It was all about money to them, and how much you made. "Your sister just made fifty thousand dollars for a two-day shoot for a national campaign," her mother said. It was more than Victoria was going to make in a year. And Grace just did it for fun, and the college fund their parents had set up for her. To Gracie, modeling was like a game, for which she was highly paid, and she only did it occasionally. Victoria was going to be working hard for the money she made. The discrepancy and dichotomy were shocking to her. But it was no secret that teaching was not a highly paid job, and she had known that when she chose it as a career. She didn't have the modeling opportunities that Gracie did anyway. They were not an option for her. And teaching was her vocation, not just her work. She hoped that she'd be good at it. "Where are you going to live?" her mother asked her, sounding worried about that too. "Can you afford an apartment on a teacher's salary? New York is a very expensive city."
"I'll get something with roommates. I'll go back there in August and get settled before I start work."
"When are you coming home?"
"Right after graduation. I want to spend this summer with you." She wasn't planning to get a summer job this year. She wanted to take some short trips with Gracie, and spend time with them, before she officially moved to New York. She might never live in L.A. again, or have as much time to spend with them, although she would have summers off if she continued to teach. But she might have to take summer jobs to supplement her income. This was her last summer to be home and not working, and her parents were fine with it.
Victoria didn't go home for spring break--she took a job waiting on tables in a diner just off campus, to make some money to sock away. She was going to need every penny she could save for New York. But the meals they gave her for free at the diner got her off her diet again. She lived on meat loaf and mashed potatoes with gravy, and lemon meringue and apple pie a la mode for two weeks. It was tough to resist, especially the blueberry pancakes for breakfast at six A.M. when she started work. Her dream of losing weight by graduation was fading fast. And it was depressing always being on a diet, some new exercise program, and spending life on a treadmill to atone for her sins.
After killing herself at the gym all through April, and watching what she ate, she finally lost ten pounds. She was proud of herself. And she went to rent her cap and gown on the first of May. There was an endless line where they were handing them out, and when she finally got to the head of the line, the man assigning them looked at her to guess her correct size.
"Big girl, huh?" he said with a broad grin, and she had to fight back tears. She didn't answer, and didn't comment when he handed her an extra large that she didn't need. But she was tall enough to wear it, so she didn't complain. It was huge on her at least. She was planning to wear a short red skirt, high-heeled sandals, and a white blouse under it at graduation. The skirt was short, but no one would see it until she took the gown off. She loved the color, and her legs looked great.
She packed up all her things and sent them home two days before graduation, the day before her parents arrived. Gracie was coming with them, of course. And she was more beautiful than ever when Victoria saw her, wearing a white T-shirt and short shorts. She was fifteen now and, despite her diminutive size, looked eighteen. She could still do ads for children's clothes and often did. Victoria felt like an elephant standing next to her and her mother, but she loved Gracie anyway. The two sisters almost squeezed the air out of each other when they hugged, after they met her at the dorm.
They took Victoria out for dinner at a really nice restaurant that night, where several of the other graduates were having dinner too. Victoria had asked about bringing a few of her friends along, but her father had said they'd rather have dinner alone with her. And he felt the same about their celebratory lunch the next day too. He said they wanted Victoria to themselves, but what he was really saying, as he always did, was that he was not interested in meeting her friends. It was nothing new to Victoria. But she was happy to be with them anyway. And Gracie was constantly cuddling up to her. The two sisters were always inseparable when they were together. And Grace was starting to think about college too. She wanted to go to USC. And their parents were pleased because it was close to home. Her father said she was a real southern California girl, which made Victoria sound like a traitor for going to college in the Midwest, instead of congratulating her for her sense of adventure and going to a hard school.
The graduation ceremony of the Weinberg College of Arts and Sciences at Northwestern the next day was fraught with pomp, ceremony, and emotion. Christine was already crying when the procession began, and Jim was looking unusually proud with a damp eye as his daughter walked by him in her cap and gown, and Gracie snapped a picture and Victoria grinned, while trying to look solemn.
Just over a thousand students got their diplomas that day from Weinberg, in alphabetical order. Victoria shook hands with the dean who handed it to her. And she screamed as loud as everyone two hours later, when they threw their caps in the air and embraced each other. She had been solitary for much of her time at Northwestern, but she had nonetheless made some friends, and they had exchanged e-mail addresses and cell phone numbers, and they promised to stay in touch, even if that seemed unlikely. And then suddenly they were out in the world, as graduates, ready to take their place in their chosen careers.
Victoria had dinner with her family again that night at Jilly's Cafe, and it felt like a real celebration, as other graduates did the same at nearby tables. The next morning she and her family flew back to L.A. together. Victoria had spent the night at the Hotel Orrington with them, sharing a room with Gracie, as she had to give up her dorm room right after graduation. The two girls chatted late into the night, until they fell asleep next to each other. They were looking forward to spending the next three months together. Victoria hadn't told anyone, but she was planning to spend the summer following a serious weight-loss program so she could look her best when she started teaching at Madison in September. Her father had commented, when she took her gown off after graduation to return it, that she looked bigger than ever. As usual, he had said it with a broad smile. And then he complimented her on her long legs as he always did, but the first comment was far more powerful than the second. She never heard the compliment once he hit her with the insult.
She sat between her father and Grace on the flight home, and her mother was across the aisle reading a magazine. The two girls had wanted to sit together. They didn't even look related. And as she got older, Gracie was more and more the image of her mother. Victoria at every age was the image of no one.
Her father leaned over to speak to Victoria right after takeoff. She and Gracie had been talking softly, and were thinking of watching a movie.
"You know, you've got the time to look for a decent job when you get back to L.A. You can always tell that school in New York that you've changed your mind. Think about it," he said in a conspiratorial tone.
"I like the job in New York, Dad," Victoria insisted. "It's a great school, and if I back out now, my name would be dirt forever in the teaching community. I want the job."
"You don't want to be poor for the rest of your life, do you?" he said with a look of contempt. "You can't afford to be a teacher, and I'm not going to subsidize you forever," he commented bluntly.
"I'm not expecting you to, or even now, Dad. Other people live on teachers' salaries. So can I."
"Why should you have to? I can line up some interviews for you next week." He was dismissing her entire achievement in landing the job in New York. To him, it wasn't even a job. He kept telling her to get a "real" job for decent money.
"Thank you for the offer," she said politely, "but I want to stick with what I've got for now. I can always figure it out later if I really can't live on it. But I can always take a summer job and save the money."
"That's pathetic. It may seem all right to you at twenty-two, but trust me, it won't when you're thirty or forty. You can interview at the ad agency if you want to."
"I don't want to work in advertising," she said firmly. "I want to be a teacher." It was the thousandth time she'd said it to him. He shrugged in answer and looked annoyed, and after that she and Gracie put their headphones on and watched the movie. She was relieved not to have to talk to him about it anymore. Her parents were only interested in two things about her, her weight and how much money she was going to make at her job. And the third topic they brought up from time to time was her absence of a love life, which in both their opinions was a result of the first subject, her weight and size. Her father said, whenever the subject came up, that if she'd lose some weight, she'd find a boyfriend. She knew that wasn't necessarily the case, since plenty of girls who had perfect figures and were half her size couldn't find a boyfriend. And other girls who were overweight were happily married, engaged, or had significant others. Romance, she knew, wasn't directly tied to your weight, there were a lot of other factors. And her lack of self-esteem and their constantly picking on her and criticizing her didn't help her with that problem. They were never proud of her or satisfied with what she was doing, although both of her parents had said they were proud when she graduated from Northwestern. They just wished it had been UCLA or USC, and that she had found a different job than the one in New York, preferably one in L.A. in a different line of work. Whatever she did was never right or enough for them. And they never seemed to realize how painful their constant criticism was for her, or that it was why she no longer wanted to live in L.A. She wanted to put a whole country between them. That way she only had to see them at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and maybe one day she wouldn't go home for those either. But for now, she wanted to be with Gracie. Once Gracie left home, Victoria wasn't sure when she'd go home or how often. They had succeeded in driving her away and didn't even know it.
She and Gracie got in the back of the car on the way home from the airport. Their parents were talking in the front seat about what they were going to do for dinner. Jim offered to barbecue some steaks in the backyard, and he turned toward the backseat and winked at his older daughter. "I don't need to ask you, I know you're hungry. What about you, G, how do steaks sound for dinner?" he asked Gracie. Victoria stared out the window, looking like she'd been punched in the stomach. That was the reputation she had here, and the image they had of her, the one who was always hungry.
"Steaks sound fine, Dad," Gracie said vaguely. "We can order Chinese if you don't feel like making barbecue, or Victoria and I can go out for dinner if you and Mom are tired." They both would have preferred it but didn't want to insult their parents. And Jim insisted that he was happy to barbecue, as long as he and Victoria wouldn't be the only ones eating. It was the second shot he had taken at her in five minutes. It was going to be a long summer if this was how it started. It was a reminder to her that nothing had changed. Four years away at college, and a diploma, and they still treated her like the resident uncontrollable eater.
They sat in the backyard that night and ate dinner. Christine decided to skip the steak and just ate salad. She said she'd eaten too much on the plane, and Grace and Victoria ate the steaks their father had made. Grace helped herself to a baked potato, but Victoria didn't, and just put salad on her plate with the steak.
"Are you sick?" her father said with a straight face. "I've never seen you turn down a potato."
"I'm fine, Dad," Victoria said quietly. She didn't enjoy the comment, and she had decided to start her latest diet the moment she got home. She stuck to it, even though they offered her ice cream for dessert, and would have commented on that too if she'd said yes.
After dinner the two girls sat in Gracie's room, listening to music. Although Gracie's taste was younger and wilder, they shared lots of things in common. Victoria was happy to be at home with her.
They spent a lot of time together that summer, once Grace got out of school, a few weeks after Victoria's graduation. The family went to Santa Barbara for the long weekend of Memorial Day. And after they got back, Victoria drove Gracie everywhere. She became her personal chauffeur and companion, and the girls were inseparable for two months. Victoria saw some of her old school friends who had come back to L.A. after graduation, or stayed to go to school there. She didn't have a lot of close friends, but it was nice to see familiar faces, particularly before she moved away. Two were going on to graduate school, and she thought she'd like to do that one day herself, but at NYU or Columbia. She saw several of the boys she'd known at school, who'd never paid particular attention to her. One of them asked her out for dinner and a movie, but they didn't have much to say to each other. He had gone into real estate and was obsessed with money. He wasn't impressed with her choice of a teaching career either. The only one who seemed to admire it was her younger sister, who thought it was noble. Everyone else thought she was foolish and reminded her that she'd be poor forever.

[Dalyia]

For Victoria, being at home for the summer was a chance to stock up on memories she would cherish forever. She and Gracie shared their dreams and fears and hopes, and their private peeves about their parents. Gracie thought they babied her too much, and she hated the way they bragged about her. Victoria's main regret was that they didn't. Their experiences in the same family were diametrically different. It was hard to believe they had the same parents. And although Gracie was the person responsible for making Victoria invisible to them and redundant, Victoria never held it against her, and she loved Grace for the little girl she was and had been, the baby who had come to her like an angel when she was seven.
And for Grace the summer they shared after Victoria's graduation was a last chance to hang on to her big sister. They had breakfast together every morning. They laughed a lot. Victoria took Gracie out with her friends to the swim club. She played tennis with them, and they beat her every time, because they moved faster than she did. She helped Gracie shop for new clothes for school, and they decided what was hip and what wasn't. They read fashion magazines together and commented on the new styles. They went to Malibu and other beaches, and sometimes they just lay in the backyard and said nothing, knowing that they were close and loving every minute of it.
It was an easy summer for Christine, since Victoria did everything for Gracie, which gave her all the free time she wanted--not to be with her daughters, but to play bridge with her friends, which was still her favorite pastime. And in spite of her protests, her father set up several interviews for Victoria to find a "better" job than the one she had waiting for her in New York. Victoria thanked him and discreetly canceled them all. She didn't want to waste anyone's time, nor her own. Her father was angry about it, and told her again that she was making all the wrong decisions about her future and would never amount to anything as a teacher. She was used to hearing things like that from him, and it didn't sway her. She was the child they had never been proud of and had either ignored or made fun of.
She confessed to Gracie one day that summer that if she had the money, she would love to have a nose job, and maybe she would sometime. She said that she liked Gracie's nose, and wanted one like it, or a "cute" nose of her own. Gracie was touched when she said it, and she told Victoria that she was beautiful anyway, even with her own nose. She didn't need a new one. Gracie thought she was perfect just the way she was. It was the unconditional love that they had given each other all their lives and that Victoria thrived on, and so did Gracie. Their parents' love was always conditional, depending on how they looked and if their achievements were valid according to their parents' standards, and if they made their parents look good in the process. Gracie had basked in their praise all her life, because she was an accessory that enhanced them. And because Victoria was different and didn't fit in, she had been emotionally starved by them, but not by Gracie. Grace had always lavished love on her and worshipped Victoria in every way. And Victoria adored her, wanted to protect her sister, and didn't want her to turn out like her parents. She wished she could take Gracie with her. They both dreaded the day she would leave for New York.
Grace helped Victoria pick new items for her wardrobe that would look appropriate to her students when she taught high school. She had stuck to her guns and her diet this time, and could just get into a size twelve by the beginning of August. It was tight, but it fit. She had dropped several pounds over the summer, although her father asked her regularly if she didn't want to lose some weight before she left for New York. He didn't notice a single pound she lost; nor did her mother, who was always distressed about her daughter's size, no matter what it was. The label they had put on her as a child was stuck there forever, like a tattoo. She was a "big girl," which was their way of calling her a fat girl. She knew that if she weighed a hundred pounds and were disappearing, they would still see her as a "big girl." They were the mirror of her inadequacies and her failings, and never of her victories. The only victories they saw were Grace's. That was just the way they were.
The family went to Lake Tahoe together for a week before Victoria had to leave. They had a good time. The house their father had rented for them was very pretty. And both girls water-skied in the freezing lake, while their father steered the boat. The best part about her taking a teaching job, Gracie said, was that they would still be able to go on summer vacations together, and Victoria promised to have her come and visit in New York. She could even visit the school where she'd be teaching, and maybe sit in on one of her classes if they let her. She hoped they would.
And finally the day arrived for Victoria to leave. It was a day that she and Grace had dreaded, for all the goodbyes they didn't want to say. They were both strangely silent on the way to the airport. They had stayed awake all the night before, and lay in one bed so they could talk. Victoria told Gracie she could move into her room, because she liked it better, but Gracie didn't want to take her room away. She wanted her to have a place to come home to. They stood hugging each other for a long time at the airport, as tears streamed down their cheeks. Despite their many assurances to each other over the summer, they both knew that it would never be the same again. Victoria was going to a grown-up life in another city, and they had agreed that it was better for her. The one thing they both were certain would never change was how much they loved each other. The rest would be different from now on. It had to be. From the moment Victoria set foot on the plane, she would be a grown-up. And when she came home, it would only be to visit. There was nothing left for her here except painful memories and her sister Grace. Her parents had abandoned her emotionally the day she was born, when she didn't look the way they'd planned, or anything like them. It had been unacceptable to them, and a crime they could never quite forgive her, and didn't even try. Instead they made fun of her and diminished and dismissed her. They always made her feel unwanted and not really good enough for them.
"Take care of yourself, dear, and let us know how you are," her mother said, hugging her loosely, as she always did, as though Victoria were too big for her to get her arms around, or as though her proportions might be contagious. There was too little of Christine internally for her to give much to anyone else, except Jim. She gave him all she had, and always shortchanged her girls, even Grace. She was only too happy to let Victoria stand in for her with Grace.
"I'll find you a job when you give up teaching," her father said as he hugged her. "It won't take long," he confirmed with a grin. "You'll get tired of starving." Despite the words, he pressed a check into her hand. It was for a thousand dollars. It was a generous gift, and she was glad to have it. It would help with her rent or the deposit for an apartment that she had yet to find.
She and Grace hugged one last time, and then she had to wrench herself away and go through the security line. When she turned back to wave, she and Gracie were both crying, and her father had his arm around their mother's shoulders. Gracie was standing alone, and the look that passed between the two girls from the distance said it all. Victoria knew that they would be allies forever. She touched her heart, blew Grace a kiss, and then she was gone, to her new life. She knew that her life in L.A. was only her history now.

[Dalyia]

Chapter 8
It took Victoria two weeks to find an apartment once she got to New York, and by the end of the first week, she was beginning to panic. She couldn't stay at a hotel forever, although the check from her father helped. She had saved the money from her past summer jobs, and the one she'd had at spring break, and she would have her salary to live on. She called the school to see if any of the teachers was looking for a roommate, but they told her no one was. She called the modeling agency where she had worked, and one of the booking agents told her that he had a friend who was looking for a roommate, and by sheer luck it was in the East 80s, which was close enough to the school to work for her. He gave her the friend's number, and she called immediately. There were already three people living in the apartment, and they were looking for a fourth. They told her that the room they were looking to fill was small, and two of them were men and one was a woman, and the price was within her budget. She made an appointment to go over that evening when they got home from work. Miraculously, it was six blocks from the school where she was going to teach. But she didn't want to get too excited until she saw it. It sounded too good to be true.
When she got there, it was an old prewar building in decent condition, although it looked like it had seen better days. It was on East 82nd Street, near the river. The front door was locked, and she had to be buzzed in, and then she rode the elevator upstairs. The hallway was dark but clean, and a young woman let her into the apartment. She was wearing workout clothes and said she was leaving for the gym. She was in good shape and looked to be about thirty. She said her name was Bunny, for Bernice, which she hated, and she worked in an art gallery uptown. Both men had come home to meet her too. Bill had gone to college with Bunny at Tulane and was an analyst on Wall Street. He said he was recently engaged and would be moving out in the next year. He said he usually stayed at his girlfriend's apartment, especially on weekends. The other man, Harlan, was gay and recently out of school, and worked for the Metropolitan Museum in the Costume Institute. All of them seemed serious, all were pleasant and well spoken, and she told them she would be teaching at the Madison School. Bill offered Victoria a glass of wine, and a few minutes later Bunny left for the gym. She had an incredible figure, and the two men were nice looking. Harlan had a great sense of humor and a southern drawl and reminded her of Beau, whom she had never seen again after their aborted near-affair. Harlan was born in Mississippi. She told them she came from L.A., and was desperate to find a place to live before she started work the following week.
The apartment was big and sunny, with a double living room, a small den, a dining room, a kitchen that had seen better days, and four modest-size bedrooms, and it was under rent control. The bedroom they showed her was small, as they had warned her, but the other rooms were pleasant and spacious, and they said they had no problem with it if she wanted to entertain, although most of them didn't, and they said they went out a lot. None of them were from New York, and the room they showed her had no furniture in it. Harlan suggested she go to IKEA, which was what he had done. He'd been living there for a year. And because the apartment was under rent control, the rent they had suggested to her was one Victoria could easily afford, even on her salary, and it was a safe neighborhood, with shops and restaurants nearby. It was an ideal young people's apartment, and they said that everyone in the building was either very young or very old and had been there forever. It was perfect for Victoria, and when she asked if she could rent it, both men approved. Bunny had already given them her okay before she left for the gym. And the booking agent at the modeling agency who had recommended her had told them what a great girl she was and what a nice person. She was in, and smiled broadly as she shook hands with the two men. They required no security deposit, and told her she could move in immediately. As soon as she bought a bed, she could stay there. Harlan told her about a firm you could call, give them your credit card number, and they would deliver a mattress the same afternoon. Welcome to New York!
Victoria gave them a check for the first month's rent, they gave her a set of keys, and when she left to go back to her hotel, her head was spinning. She had a job, an apartment, and a new life. All she had to do now was buy furniture for her bedroom, and she could move in. She called her parents that night to tell them, and Gracie was delighted for her. Her father questioned her intently about where it was, and what sort of people her roommates were. Her mother wasn't thrilled to hear that two of them were men. Victoria reassured her by saying that one was engaged and the other one wasn't interested in women, and all three of her new roommates seemed like terrific people. Her parents sounded cautious about it. They would have much preferred her living alone than among strangers, but they knew she couldn't afford it, and her father didn't want to pay rent for her in New York. It was time for her to make her way in the world.
The next day she rented a van and went to IKEA. She bought all the basics she needed for her bedroom, and was amazed by how little it cost her. She bought two lamps, a rug, curtains, two wall mirrors, bedding, a comfortable chair, two night tables, a nice-looking chest of drawers, and a small mirrored armoire, since the room only had one closet, and she hoped her things would all fit. The bad news was that all the furniture had to be assembled, but Harlan had told her that the handyman in the building would do it if she gave him a decent tip.
They helped her load it into the van at IKEA, and an hour later she was at the apartment and unloading her furniture with the help of the superintendent. It took another hour to get it all upstairs, and just as Harlan had said, the handyman came up with his tool box and started assembling the pieces that needed it. She called the company that delivered mattresses and box springs, and they arrived even before the handyman had finished. And by six o'clock when Bunny came home from work, Victoria was sitting in the middle of her new room, admiring how it looked. She had chosen white furniture and white lace curtains, with a blue and white rug, and it all had an airy California feeling to it. She had even bought a blue-and-white-striped bedspread and matching cushions. And there was a comfortable blue armchair in the corner of the room, where she could read if she didn't want to sit in the living room. And earlier she had bought a small TV that she could watch from her bed. Her father's check had gone a long way to helping her with her purchases. She looked ecstatic as she sat on the bed and grinned when Bunny walked in.
"Well, don't you look like a happy camper," Bunny said, smiling at her. "I like your stuff."
"Yeah, me too," Victoria said happily. This was her first real apartment. All she'd had till then were dorm rooms, and this was considerably bigger, although it wasn't huge by any means. And she shared a bathroom with Bunny. The two men shared the other bathroom, and she had already noticed that Bunny's bathroom was immaculate and she was meticulously neat. The setup was ideal.
"Are you staying here tonight?" Bunny asked with interest. "I'm home if you want help unpacking." Victoria had spent all afternoon putting things together, and she had sheets to sleep there that night, and a stack of brand-new towels that she wanted to run through the washing machine in the basement laundry room.
"I've got to pick up my stuff at the hotel." She had checked out that morning so she could save the money and had stored her bags with the porter. "I'll go get it in a little while and come back later." The men came home then and admired her new room. It looked fresh and clean and modern, and Harlan said it looked like a Malibu beach house. She had even bought a framed photograph of a long sandy beach and blue water that looked peaceful to her and hung it on one wall. There was a smell of new furniture in the room, which had recently been painted. She could see the street from her windows, and the neighboring rooftops. The building was on the north side of the street and faced south, so she knew it would be sunny.
Her new roommates all told her they would be home that night and were planning to cook dinner if she wanted to join them, so she left shortly afterward to pick her things up at the hotel, return the van, and be back in time for dinner.
The apartment was full of good cooking smells when she got back, and all three of them were apparently great cooks. Bill's fiancee, Julie, had joined them by then, and the four of them were in the kitchen, laughing and drinking wine, when Victoria walked in with four suitcases. She had brought her entire winter wardrobe with her, in case she needed it before she went home again at Thanksgiving. Bunny said that was a good thing since it could get cold in October.
Victoria had stopped to buy a bottle of wine for them and set it on the kitchen table. It was Spanish wine, and they all said they liked it, and opened it immediately. They had already killed the first bottle, which was easily done when shared by four people. Victoria had been tempted to buy ice cream on her way home, but she didn't. Moving was a little stressful, but so far everything had gone well.
The five of them sat down to dinner at ten o'clock, when everyone was hungry. They came and went in and out of the kitchen until then. Bunny was doing most of the cooking that night, and both men went to the gym before dinner. They all were diligent about their workouts, and Bill's fiancee Julie had a gorgeous body. She worked for a cosmetics company, and all of them thought it was great that Victoria was teaching school, and very brave since her students would be almost as old as she was.
"Kids terrify me," Bunny confessed. "Whenever they come into the gallery, I run and hide. They always break something, and then I get in trouble." She said that she had been a fine arts major and had a boyfriend in Boston who was going to law school at BU and came down to see her on weekends, or she went to see him.
They all seemed to have their lives in perfect order. Over dinner, Harlan said that he had broken up with his partner six months before, and then moved into the apartment, and was taking a break from romance. He said he wasn't dating, and Victoria admitted that she wasn't either. None of her romances had ever worked out so far, and she didn't like her father's theory that it was because of her weight and looks. She felt as though she was cursed. Her father thought she wasn't pretty enough, and her mother thought she was too smart for most men and would put them off. She was either too ugly or too smart, but in any case, no one had fallen head over heels for her, and she hadn't either. All she'd had till then were what she would have qualified as crushes, except for the ill-fated false start with Beau, and the brief affair with the physics major, and some dates that had gone nowhere. She was hoping her luck would improve in New York. And it had--she had found a great apartment and three terrific roommates. She really liked them. The dinner they served was delicious. Bunny had made paella with fresh seafood in it, which seemed perfect on a hot summer day, and she had made sangria that they drank after the wine. She served cold gazpacho first, before the paella. And for dessert she produced half a gallon of "cookies and cream" ice cream, which was unfortunately one of Victoria's favorites, and once it was sitting on the table, she couldn't resist it.
"This is like serving heroin to an addict," Victoria complained, helping herself to a full bowl as the carton was passed around the table. Before that, they had all cleaned their plates. The paella had been delicious. And so was the ice cream.
"I love ice cream too," Harlan confessed, but didn't look it. He looked as though he hadn't eaten in ten years, and was six-three, which allowed him a lot of leeway. But Victoria hadn't had ice cream in ages, so she decided to indulge and treat herself. They were celebrating, after all. And later she silently congratulated herself for not having a second helping, although the first portion had been large. Between the five of them, they finished the ice cream. Julie put away a healthy amount too, but none of the others looked as though they had an issue with food. All of them were slim people, and very trim and toned. They all said they were religious about the gym, and both Bill and Bunny said it helped them with stress. Harlan said he hated working out but felt an obligation to stay in shape. And Bunny said they'd been thinking of collectively buying a treadmill so they didn't have to go to the gym every day. Victoria said it sounded like a great idea. She couldn't avoid it if it was sitting right in the apartment. They were a busy, lively group, full of projects, plans, and ideas. And Victoria was looking forward to living with them. It was going to be a happier circumstance for her than living alone in a tiny apartment. This way she could have more space, and company whenever she wanted. And when she didn't, she could go to her room, which was peaceful and pretty now, thanks to IKEA. She was thrilled with what she'd gotten, and how it had all come together. It had been a great idea, and she thanked Harlan for suggesting it.
"Anytime," he said, smiling at her. "I used to do window dressing on the side. I did stores all over SoHo, and the windows at Chanel. I want to be an interior designer when I grow up. But right now I'm busy at the Costume Institute. But I always have other ideas and projects." He seemed like a very creative person, and Victoria liked the way he dressed.
Sitting around with them in the kitchen made her hope that maybe, living with them and going to the gym as often as they did, she could keep her weight under control. She knew her weight was constantly fluctuating and always higher than it should be, but she had a feeling they would be a good influence on her, if she stayed away from desserts. All her new roommates were slim. She had envied people like them all her life. She was naturally a big girl, thanks to her paternal great-grandmother, and her breasts made her seem top heavy. She had an hourglass figure that would have worked well in another era. She often wondered if her great-grandmother had had long thin legs like hers. You couldn't tell in photographs, because they had worn long skirts in those days. Now that Victoria had lost weight over the summer, she could wear shorter skirts again. But she knew she'd never get there by eating ice cream. She felt guilty about the Ben and Jerry's cookies and cream she had just consumed. She'd have to find a gym tomorrow, or go jogging. Maybe Bunny could take her to hers. Victoria suddenly felt overwhelmed by all she had to do here. And in a few days she'd be starting school, as a teacher this time, not a student. It was very exciting!
They all went back to their own rooms around one A.M., after lengthy conversations. Julie spent the night with Bill. And as Victoria settled into her new queen-size bed, she nestled under the covers and lay there smiling. Everything about this room felt good and looked just the way she wanted it to. It was her own cozy little world in the new life she was building for herself. It was just the beginning. Soon she would have a new job, new friends, new students, and one day maybe even a boyfriend. It was hard to imagine. Finding the apartment had been a first step, and now suddenly she was a New Yorker.
She missed Gracie as she fell asleep that night, and thought about calling her, but she was too sleepy, and she had talked to her that morning, while she was shopping at IKEA. Gracie had been so happy for her, and Victoria had promised to send her photographs of the apartment and her room. She drifted off to sleep thinking about her sister and when she would come to visit. And in Victoria's dream they went shopping together, and she was suddenly much thinner, almost as though she had a new body to go with her new life. The salesgirl brought her a dress in a size fourteen, and Victoria told her she wore a size eight now, and everyone in the store applauded.

[Dalyia]

Chapter 9
Victoria had two days of meetings before the first day of school. She met the other teachers and tried to remember their departments and subjects and which age level they taught. She had a chance to study the books she'd be using, all of which had been selected by the teacher she was replacing for a year. She had even outlined the syllabus for her, which Victoria had been worried about for days. This was going to be much easier than she thought, and she chatted easily with the other teachers and introduced herself. The English department was one of the biggest, and there were eight teachers, all of them considerably older than she was, and most of them women, although three were men. She noticed that all of the male teachers who worked at Madison were either gay or married, but she hadn't come here to find a boyfriend, she chided herself, she had come to teach.
And at night after the meetings, she studied the books and the syllabus again, and made notes to herself about homework assignments and quizzes she wanted to give the kids, but first she wanted to get to know them, and get a sense of who they were. She was going to be teaching four classes, one sophomore, one junior, and two senior, and she had been warned at Northwestern during her student teaching that seniors were always tough. They were chomping at the bit to leave school and get on with their lives in college, and by the second half of the year, when they had gotten their college acceptance letters, it was almost impossible to get their attention and make them work. It was going to be a challenging year for her, and she could hardly wait to sink her teeth into it. She hardly slept at all the night before school started.
On the first day of school, Victoria was up at six A.M. She made a healthy breakfast of eggs, toast, cereal, and orange juice, and made a pot of coffee for her roommates to drink as well. She was dressed and at the breakfast table by seven, and back in her bedroom, making some notes again by seven-thirty. And at a quarter to eight, she was out the door, and walking to school. She arrived promptly at eight A.M., and the students were due at eight-thirty.
She went straight to her classroom, and paced nervously around the room and then stood looking out the window. She was expecting twenty-four students that morning. There were desks for all of them and a few spares, and a big desk for her at the front of the room. It was a class on English composition, and she had writing assignments to give them. She knew it would be hard to get their attention after their summer vacations. And the kids she would be teaching that day were in the home stretch. They were seniors, and they'd be visiting colleges and doing their applications all through the fall. And she'd have to write recommendations for them. That made her an important element in their lives, and gave her a direct impact on their future, so they had to be serious and diligent in her class. She knew their names, and now she would see the faces that went with them. She was staring into space, looking out the window, when she heard a voice behind her.
"Ready for the onslaught?" She turned and saw a gray-haired woman. She was wearing jeans, a faded T-shirt with the name of a band on it, and sandals. She looked like she was still on vacation and it was a warm day in New York. She smiled when Victoria turned around with a startled look. Victoria had worn a short black cotton skirt, a loose white linen top, and flat shoes. The baggy top hid a multitude of sins, and the reasonably short skirt showed off her legs. But she wasn't looking to seduce them, only teach them.
"Hi," Victoria said with a look of surprise. She had seen the other woman at the teachers' meetings, but hadn't met her and couldn't remember what department she was in, and didn't want to ask her.
"I'm social studies. I have the classroom next to you, so if they start a gang war, I can help you. My name is Helen." She was smiling as she came to shake Victoria's hand. She looked to be around Victoria's mother's age, somewhere in her mid to late forties. Victoria's mother had just turned fifty. "I've been here for twenty-two years, so if you need a cheat sheet or a guide, just ask me. They're good people here, except the kids and their parents. Some of them anyway. Some of them are great kids, in spite of the privileged circumstances they live in." As she said it, a shrill bell rang, and a few minutes later they could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs. It sounded like everyone was running.
"Thank you," Victoria said, not sure what else to say. The statement she had made about the students and their parents was pretty damning, and an odd position to take for a woman who worked in a school full of rich kids.
"I love my students, but sometimes it's hard to get them to deal with reality. How real is it when your parents have a boat, a plane, and a house in the Hamptons, and you spend every summer in the South of France? That's the way it is for these kids. What the rest of the world deals with is pretty remote to them. It's up to us to introduce them to the real world. And sometimes it's not easy. Sooner or later you can get there, with most of them. But not very often with their parents. They're past it, they don't want to know how the other half lives. I guess they figure it's not their problem. But the kids have a right to know and make choices." Victoria didn't disagree with her, and she hadn't thought a lot about the lifestyles of these kids and how it would affect their view of the world. But Helen sounded faintly bitter about it and resentful of the kids. And Victoria wondered if she was jealous of the privileged lives they led. And as she thought it, the first student walked into the classroom, and Helen went back to her own.
The first student was a girl called Becki. She had blond hair to her waist, and was wearing a pink T-shirt, white jeans, and expensive Italian sandals. And she had the most beautiful face and body Victoria had ever seen. She took a seat in the middle of the classroom, which meant she wasn't anxious to participate, but she wasn't one of the shirkers in the back row either. She smiled at Victoria as she sat down. She had a casual air about her and looked as though she thought she owned the world. She had the cockiness of seniors Victoria had seen before. There were only four years separating the two young women, and Victoria felt a tremor sensing Becki's self-confidence, but she reminded herself that she was the boss here. And they didn't know exactly how young she was. She realized that she was going to have to earn their respect.
As she thought about it, four boys bolted through the door, almost at the same time, and sat down. They all looked at Becki, and obviously knew her, and glanced in Victoria's direction with mild curiosity. A flock of girls entered the room then, laughing and talking. They said hi to Becki, ignored the boys, glanced at Victoria, and took seats in a block at the back of the room. That meant to Victoria that they wanted to keep talking and exchange notes, or maybe even text each other throughout the class. She would have to keep an eye on them. More girls then, more boys, a few stragglers who came in alone, and several in groups. And finally, after a full ten minutes, her first class had arrived. Victoria greeted them with a big smile and told them her name. She wrote it on the blackboard and then she turned to them.
"I'd like you all to introduce yourselves so I can put the faces with the names." She pointed to a girl in the front row, to her extreme left as she faced them. "Let's go all around the room." And they did. They each said their name as she looked at the list she had on her desk for that class. "Who knows where they want to apply to college?" Less than half the hands in the room went up. "How about telling us?" She pointed to a boy in the back row who already looked bored. She didn't know it yet, but he had been Becki's boyfriend the year before, and they broke up before the summer. Now both of them were unattached. Becki had just gotten back from her father's villa in the South of France. And like many of the students at Madison, her parents were divorced.
The boy Victoria had asked about the colleges he was applying to reeled off a list. Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Stanford, Duke, Dartmouth, and maybe MIT. He had every top school on that list, and she wondered if he was telling the truth or pulling her leg. She didn't know the cast of characters yet at all. But she would.
"What happened to the circus college in Miami?" she asked him with a blank expression, and everyone laughed. "That might be fun."
"I want to take chemical engineering, with a minor in physics, or maybe the other way around."
"How are your grades in English?" she asked him. He was the kind of boy who would think an English comp class was a drag. But it was a required course, even for him.
"Not so good," he admitted sheepishly in answer to her question. "I'm stronger in science."
"What about you?" she asked the others. "How are you at English comp?" It was a reasonable question, and they were honest with her. Some said they sucked and others said they were good at it, and there was no way for her to know the truth, particularly not this soon.
"Well, if you want to get into those colleges, and I assume that several of you do, then you're going to need decent grades in English. So let's work on it together this year. I'm here to improve your writing skills. It should help you with the essay on your college app, and I'll be happy to assist any of you with those applications, if you like." It was an interesting spin on the purpose of the class, and the point hadn't been lost on them. They sat up and listened to her more closely for what came next.
She talked about the value of being able to write clearly and coherently, not in flowery prose, but to be able to write an interesting story with a beginning, a middle, and an end. "I think we ought to have some fun this year too. Writing doesn't have to be dreary. And for some people, I know it's hard." She glanced at the boy who wanted to go to MIT--English comp was clearly not his thing. "You can add some humor to what you write, or write it tongue-in-cheek. You can write social commentary on the state of the world, or a story that you invent from beginning to end. But whatever you write, make it simple and clear, and make it something special that others will want to read. So in that vein, I'm going to ask you to write something that we'll all enjoy reading." As she said it, she turned around and wrote on the blackboard that ran the length of one wall of the room, behind her desk. She wrote in a clear hand that they could all read easily: "My summer vacation." And as she did, everyone groaned, and she turned around to face them again. "There's a twist to it, a little spin. I don't want to hear about the summer vacation you did have, which might be as boring as mine with my family in L.A. I want you to write about the summer vacation you wish you'd had. And when you're finished writing it, I want to wish I had that vacation too. And I want you to make me understand why. Why was that the vacation you wanted to have, or wished you had? You can write it as an essay in first person, or as a story in third. And I want some really great stuff. I know you can do it if you try." She smiled broadly at them then, and said something they didn't expect. "Class dismissed." For a moment they looked at her, a little stunned, and then they let out a whoop and got up, and started shuffling out of the room. She tapped her desk once, and told them that the assignment was due the next time the class met, in three days. With that, they groaned again, and she got more specific. "And it doesn't have to be long," she said as they beamed.
"I wish I'd spent my summer vacation in a bordello in Morocco," one boy said, and everybody laughed at his irreverence. Making fun of a teacher was something kids always enjoyed at every age. It was a thought Victoria couldn't imagine the boy saying, but she didn't react. Kids that age liked to shock adults. She gave no indication that he had.
"That would work," Victoria said calmly, "as long as I believe you. If I don't, you're out of luck. That's the hitch. Make me believe you, make me care, make me fall in love with the characters, or with you. That's the whole point of writing, to convince the reader that what you've written for them is real. And in order to do that, you have to believe it too. Have fun," she said, as the rest of the students left the room.
Victoria had a break between classes then, and sat at her desk making a few notes, when Helen, the teacher from the next classroom, walked back in. She seemed to be interested in everything Victoria did. Carla Bernini, the teacher on maternity leave, was her best friend, and Victoria wondered if she was defending her buddy's turf, or at least keeping an eye on it for her.
"How did it go?" she asked as she sat down in one of the chairs.
"Pretty well, I think," Victoria said honestly. "They didn't throw things at me, or hit me with any bottle rockets. No stink bombs. And I kept it short, which always helps." She had done that with her student teaching too. You couldn't sit around forever, talking about writing. You just had to do it, no matter how hard and daunting it was. "The assignment I gave them was easy. It'll show me what they can do."
"It must be difficult stepping into someone else's shoes," Helen said randomly, and Victoria shrugged.
"I try not to think about it. We each have our own style."
"What's yours?" Helen asked with interest, as though she were interviewing her.
"I don't know yet. Today is my first day. I graduated in May."
"Zow! That's got to be pretty unnerving. Aren't you a big brave girl." Her tone reminded Victoria of her father, but she didn't care. She knew she had done a good job. And Helen could challenge her all she wanted, for whatever reason. Victoria knew she would have to prove herself to the teachers too, not just the students. But so far she thought it had gone well.
Victoria's next class came in an hour later, and this time several of them were seriously late. They were seniors too.
The assignment she gave them was different than the first one.
The topic this time was what I want to be when I grow up, and why. "I want you to put some serious thought into it. And I want to respect and admire you when I'm through reading. It's okay to make me laugh. Keep it light, unless you want to be an undertaker or embalmer. But short of that, I want to laugh." And then the second class left too. She had held her own with both groups. And she had met all her seniors now. They seemed like good kids and hadn't given her a hard time. But she knew they could if they wanted to, and she was very young. They didn't have any particular allegiance to her yet, but she knew it was too soon. She hoped they would in time. And she knew that the level of their respect depended on her. It was her job to make them care.
Helen stayed and talked to her for a few minutes, and then they both packed up their things and left their classrooms. Victoria checked her mailbox on the way out, and then sat in the teachers' lounge poring over a stack of memos from the headmaster and the dean of students. There were several announcements, mostly about policy changes that impacted the school. She went to an English department meeting that afternoon, and when she left the building, it took her ten minutes to walk home. She loved living so close. She wanted to walk to work every day.
When Victoria got to the apartment, everyone asked how her day had gone. They were all there.
"It was actually terrific," Victoria said happily. And Gracie called her and asked her the same question an hour later, and she gave her the same answer. Essentially, it had gone really well, and she liked the kids. They might have been around the world with their parents, and had every lesson known to man, yet there was something innocent and endearing about them. And she wanted them to learn to think intelligently, use good judgment, and wind up with the life they wanted, whatever and wherever that was. Her job, as she understood it, in this school or any other, was to open the door into the world for them. And she wanted to open many, many doors. They had begun.

[Dalyia]

Chapter 10
Victoria met her junior and sophomore students on the second and third days of school, and she was surprised to find them much harder to deal with than the seniors. The juniors were stressed about the heavy workload they'd have that year, which would count more than any other year in their applications to colleges, and they were afraid she'd give them too much homework. And the sophomores were unfriendly and almost belligerent, and there was no harder group to teach than fifteen-year-old girls. It was everyone's least favorite age, and Victoria's too, with the exception of her sister Grace, who seemed nicer than most girls her age. There was a nasty quality to them, and Victoria heard two of the girls talking about her size as they left the class. They talked just loud enough for her to hear them, and she had to remind herself that they were just bratty kids, but their comments cut through her like a knife. One of the girls had referred to her as "fat;" the other one said she looked like a tank in the dress she'd worn. She took it off that night and put it in a pile to give away. She knew she wouldn't feel comfortable wearing it again. And when she went out to the kitchen in her apartment that night, she finished off someone's pint of Ben and Jerry's, in a flavor she didn't even like.
"Bad day?" Harlan asked as he walked in and made himself a cup of tea, and offered one to her.
"Yeah, sort of. Sophomore girls can be pretty nasty. I met my sophomore class for the first time today." She looked seriously unhappy as she sat in the kitchen and sipped her tea, eating the brownies she had bought on the way home.
"It must be tough being so young, and teaching high school students who're almost as old as you are," he said sympathetically.
"I guess so. The seniors were pretty good actually. The younger ones were the worst so far. They're just bitchy. And the juniors are always scared to death, because it's the most important year before college, so they're under a lot of pressure, from us and their parents."
"I wouldn't want your job," he said, grinning ruefully. "Kids can be so tough. Standing up in front of thirty of them would do me in."
"I don't have a lot of experience with it yet," Victoria admitted, "but I think I'm going to love it. My student teaching was fun, but I was assigned to freshman kids. This is pretty different, and these are very high-end kids. They're a lot more sophisticated than the ones I did my student teaching with in Chicago. These guys are going to keep me on my toes. I just want to keep my class interesting for them. Kids that age can be very unforgiving."
"They sound dangerous to me," he said and pretended to shudder, and Victoria laughed.
"They're not as bad as that," she defended them. "They're just kids."
But the next day when she met with her seniors again, she was inclined to agree with Harlan. She was expecting both groups to hand in their writing assignments. Less than half of each class had done them. When she first realized it, Victoria looked disappointed.
"Is there some reason why you didn't?" she asked Becki Adams.
"I had too much work to do for my other classes," Becki said with a shrug, while the girl sitting next to her laughed.
"May I remind you that this is a required English class? Your English grade this term will depend on what you do here."
"Yeah, whatever," Becki said, turning to the girl next to her to say something in a whisper. And she glanced up at Victoria as she did, which made her feel they were talking about her. She tried to regain her composure, collected the papers that had been done, and thanked the students who had completed the assignment.
"For those who didn't," Victoria said calmly, "you have till Monday. And from now on, I expect you to turn your assignments in on time." It threw off the assignment she had planned to give them to do over the weekend. But less than half the class had done the work.
She discussed the power of the essay then, and handed out some examples, explaining why they worked, and pointing out the strengths of each piece. And this time the entire group ignored her. Two girls in the back row were wearing iPods, three of the boys were laughing at a private joke, several of the girls were passing notes, and Becki pulled out her BlackBerry and sent texts. Victoria felt like she'd been slapped and wasn't sure what to do. They were five years younger than she was and behaving like total brats.
"Are we having a problem here?" she finally said quietly. "Are you under the impression that you don't have to pay attention to this class? Or even be polite? Do you care about your grades at all? I know you're seniors, and your junior transcript goes on your college apps, but if you flunk this class, it's not going to look so great and may keep you out of the college of your choice."
"You're just a temp till Mrs. Bernini gets back," a boy in the back row called out.
"Mrs. Bernini isn't coming back this year. That could be bad news for both of us, or good news if you decide to make the best of it. It's up to you. If you'd rather fail this class, that's your choice. You can explain it to the dean. And your parents. It's very simple actually--you do the work, you get the grades. You don't bother, and don't turn your assignments in, you fail the class. I'm sure Mrs. Bernini saw it the same way," Victoria said, as she walked past Becki and took her BlackBerry away.
"You can't do that! I was texting my mom!" she complained with an angry look.
"Do it after class. If there's an emergency, go to the office. Don't text in my class. That goes for you too," she said, pointing to a girl in the second row, who had actually been exchanging text messages with Becki. "Let's get this straight, no BlackBerrys, no cell phones, and no iPods in my class. No texting. We're here to work on English composition." They didn't look impressed, and while she was talking to them, the bell rang, and they all stood up. No one waited for her to dismiss the class. She was seriously disheartened as they left the room, and she put the assignments that had been turned in into her briefcase. And she was even more depressed when her second class of seniors came in, and were equally disruptive. She had been identified as the teacher to play with, be rude to, and ignore.
It was as though a memo had gone out to all seniors to jerk her around. She was near tears when Helen came into her classroom after the kids left. Victoria was gathering up her things and looked upset.
"Bad day?" she asked, looking sympathetic. Until then Victoria wasn't sure if she and Helen were allies, but she looked friendly when she walked in.
"Not so great actually," Victoria admitted as she picked up her briefcase with a sigh.
"You've got to get them in control fast before they beat you up. Seniors can be nasty if they get out of hand. Juniors are always stressed out of their minds, and sophomores are just kids. Freshmen are babies and scared to death the first half of the year. They're easy." She had it down pat, and Victoria smiled.
"Too bad Mrs. Bernini didn't teach freshmen. And I've got a double dose of seniors with two classes."
"They'll eat you for breakfast if you let them," Helen warned her. "You have to kick ass. Don't be too nice, and don't try to be their friend. Especially as young as you are. The kids at Madison can be great, and most of them are smart, but a lot of them are very manipulative and think they own the world. They'll clean the floor with you if you don't watch out, and so will their parents. Don't take any shit from them. Trust me. You need to be tough." Helen looked serious as she said it.
"I guess you're right. Less than half of them did the assignment and they sat around the class texting, writing messages, and listening to iPods. They couldn't have cared less." Helen knew how hard that was for a young teacher, and had been there herself.
"You've gotta be tough," she said again, as she followed Victoria out of her classroom and headed back to her own. "Give them big assignments, challenge them, give them an F when they don't turn in an assignment. Kick them out if they're not paying attention or doing the work. Confiscate their stuff. It'll wake them up." Victoria nodded. She hated to be that way, but she suspected Helen was right. "And forget the little creeps over the weekend. Do something nice for yourself," she said in a motherly tone. "And first thing Monday morning, kick their asses. Mark my words, they'll sit up and take notice."
"Thanks," Victoria said, and smiled at her again. "Have a nice weekend." She appreciated Helen's advice, and it made her like her better than she had at first.
"You too!" Helen said, and went back into her classroom to pick up her things.
Victoria walked home from school with a heavy heart. She felt like an utter failure with her two senior classes, and the juniors and sophomores hadn't gone well either. It almost made her wonder why she had wanted to be a teacher. She had been all idealistic and starry-eyed, and she wasn't doing them any good. The end of the week had gone badly, and she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to control them, as Helen suggested, and it would get worse. Thinking about it, she stopped to get something for dinner, and she wound up buying three slices of pizza and three pints of Haagen-Dazs ice cream in different flavors, and a bag of Oreo cookies. She knew it wasn't the answer, but it was comfort food for her. When she got home, she put the pizza in the oven, and opened the pint of chocolate ice cream first. She was more than halfway through it when Bunny came home from the gym. Victoria had been planning to go with her all week but hadn't had time, while she worked on her plans for her classes. And she was too tired at night. Bunny didn't comment when she saw her eating the ice cream, but Victoria felt guilty immediately, put the lid back on, and put it back in the freezer with the rest.
"How was your week?" Bunny asked kindly. She thought Victoria looked upset.
"Hard. The kids are tough, and I'm new."
"I'm sorry. Do something fun this weekend. The weather is going to be great. I'm going up to Boston, Bill is at Julie's, and I think Harlan is going to Fire Island. You'll have the apartment to yourself." That wasn't entirely good news to Victoria, who was feeling lonely, homesick, and depressed. She missed Grace.
After Bunny left to catch her flight to Boston, Victoria ate the pizza and then called home to talk to Grace. Her mother answered and asked how she was. Victoria said she was fine, and then her father got on the phone.
"Ready to throw in the towel and come home?" he asked with a hearty laugh. She wouldn't have admitted it to him, but she almost was. She had felt completely inadequate in the classroom and like an utter failure. What he said jolted her back into reality. She wasn't about to give up.
"Not yet, Dad," she said, trying to sound happier than she felt. And then Gracie got on the phone, and Victoria almost burst into tears. She really missed her and was suddenly lonely in the empty apartment in a new city with no friends.
They talked for a long time. Gracie told her what she was doing in school, they chatted about her teachers and her classes, and there was a new boy she said she liked. He was a junior. There was always a new boy in Gracie's life, and never one in her sister's. Victoria hadn't felt this miserable in a long time, and she was feeling sorry for herself. But she didn't say anything to Gracie about what a mess the week had been. After they hung up, Victoria took out the vanilla ice cream, opened it, walked into her room, turned on the TV, and got into her bed with her clothes on. She put on a movie channel, and finished the ice cream as she watched a movie, and then felt guilty when she looked at the empty ice cream carton next to her bed. It had been her dinner. And she could almost feel her hips growing as she lay there. She was utterly disgusted with herself. She put her pajamas on shortly after, got back in bed, and pulled the covers over her head. She didn't wake up until the next morning.
To atone for her sins of the night before, she went for a long walk in Central Park on Saturday, and jogged partway around the reservoir. The weather was gorgeous, and she noticed couples strolling all around her, and she felt sad not to have a man in her life. Looking around, she felt as though everyone else did, and she was the odd person out, and always had been. She was crying when she jogged to the edge of the park, and then walked home in her T-shirt and gym shorts and running shoes. And she promised herself she wouldn't eat any more ice cream that night. It was a promise she intended to keep. And as she sat home alone in the empty apartment and watched another movie, she didn't eat the ice cream. She ate the bag of Oreo cookies instead.
She spent Sunday correcting the assignments that some of the seniors had done. She was surprised by how good they were, and how creative. A few of her students had real talent, and the essays they'd written were very sophisticated. She was impressed, and said so when she faced her first class on Monday morning. They had slouched in and sprawled in their seats with obvious uninterest. There were at least a dozen BlackBerrys evident on their desks. She walked around the room and picked them up one by one, and put them on her own desk. Their owners reacted immediately and she assured them they could have them back after class. Several of the BlackBerrys were already vibrating with messages on her desk.
She praised them then for their essays, and they were pleased, and then she collected the rest. All but two students had done them. The two who hadn't were tall, good-looking boys, who appeared cocky and cynical when they said they hadn't done the assignment, again.
"Is there a problem? The dog ate your homework?" Victoria asked calmly.
"No," a boy named Mike MacDuff said to her. "We were out in the Hamptons and I played tennis all day Saturday, and golf with my dad on Sunday. And I had a date Saturday night."
"I'm thrilled for you, Mike. I've never been to the Hamptons, but I hear it's great out there. I'm glad you had such a nice weekend. That'll be an F on your assignment." And with that, she turned her attention to the rest of the class and handed out copies of a short story she wanted them to look at, while Mike scowled at her. The boy sitting next to him looked uncomfortable, and had figured out that he was getting an F too.
She helped them dissect the short story, and showed them why it worked. It was a good story, and they seemed to enjoy it, they paid closer attention to her this time, and she felt better about the class. Even Becki had contributed some remarks about the story. And Victoria asked them to write a short story as their assignment. Mike stopped at her desk on the way out, and in a gruff voice he asked whether, if he did the assignment he'd missed, she'd drop the F for his failure to write it.
"Not this time, Mike," she said pleasantly, feeling like a monster, but she remembered Helen's warning on Friday not to let them get away with anything. She had to make an example of Mike and the other boy who hadn't bothered to do the first assignment.
"That sucks!" he said loudly as he strode out of the room and slammed the door on the way out. Victoria looked undisturbed, and got ready for the second class, which started a few minutes later.
They were tougher than the first group. And there was a girl in the class who was determined to take Victoria on and humiliate her. She made several comments about women who were overweight before Victoria started talking. She pretended not to have heard the girl's remarks. Her name was Sally Fritz. She had dark red hair and freckles, and a tattoo of a star on the back of one hand.
"Where did you go to school anyway?" she asked Victoria rudely as she started to teach the class. She had totally interrupted what Victoria was saying.
"Northwestern. Are you thinking of applying?"
"Hell, no," Sally said loudly. "It's too cold there."
"Yes, it is, but I loved it. It's a good school, once you get used to the weather."
"I'm applying to California and Texas."
Victoria nodded. "I'm from L.A. There are some terrific schools in California," she said pleasantly.
"My brother went to Stanford," Sally volunteered as though they weren't in class, and she didn't care if they were. She was very brash. Victoria went on with the class then, and shared the same short story with them that she had gone over with the first class that morning. This group was livelier and more critical of the piece, which made for some interesting discussions around the room, and they got into it, in spite of their intention of torturing her and being difficult. She swept them all into the analysis of the story and a lively exchange, and some of them were still talking about it when they left the room, and Victoria looked pleased. She didn't mind being challenged by her students, or even argued with if they had valid points. The goal of her teaching was to make them question what they knew and thought they believed in. The short story she had exposed them to had done that. It had been a victory for her. And she stopped in to see Helen on her way to the teachers' lounge to correct papers.
"Thanks for the tip the other day," she said shyly. "It helped."
"To kick their asses?"
Victoria laughed in answer. "I don't think I did that. But I gave two F's in my first class for failure to hand in the assignment." It was a lot tougher than she thought she would be in the second week of school.
"That's a start." Helen grinned at her. "I'm proud of you. It'll wake up the others."
"I think it did. And I'm confiscating iPods and BlackBerrys whenever I see them."
"They hate that," Helen confirmed. "They'd much rather send text messages to their friends than listen to you, or me, for that matter." The two women laughed. "Did you have a nice weekend?"
"Nice enough. I went to the park on Saturday, and corrected papers on Sunday." And ate two pints of ice cream, pizza, and an entire bag of cookies. But she didn't say it. She knew it was a measure of how discouraged she was. She always ate more when she was unhappy, even though she promised herself she wouldn't. She could see an imminent return to her size fourteen and sixteen wardrobe in her future. She had brought all four sizes with her. She wanted to avoid winding up a sixteen, which could easily happen at the rate she was eating. She knew she had to start dieting again. It was a constant merry-go-round she could never seem to get off. With no friends, no boyfriend, and no social life, feeling unsure of herself in her job, she was at high risk for putting on weight in New York, despite her good resolutions not to. They never lasted. At the first sign of a crisis, she dove into a pint of ice cream, a bag of cookies, or a pizza. And she had done all three that weekend, which had set off an alarm in her head to be careful before it got out of hand.
Helen could sense that she was lonely, and she seemed very young and innocent to her, and like a nice girl. "Maybe we can go to a movie next weekend. Or a concert in the park," she offered.
"I'd like that," Victoria said, looking happy. She felt like the new kid on the block, and she was. And she was the youngest teacher in the school. Helen was twice her age, but she liked Victoria. She thought she was bright, and Helen could tell she was trying, and was dedicated to teaching. She was naive, but Helen thought she would learn the ropes in time. It was challenging for everyone in the beginning, especially teaching older kids. High school students were the toughest. But Victoria looked like she could handle it if she kept the kids in control. "Are you going to the lounge?" she asked Helen hopefully.
"I've got another class. I'll catch you later." Victoria nodded, and walked down the hall to the lounge. It was deserted. Everyone had gone to lunch, and she was trying not to. She had brought an apple in her briefcase and had vowed to be good. She sat munching it as she read the papers. And once again, they were surprisingly good. She had some very bright students. She just hoped she was bright enough to teach them and hold their interest for the entire year. She was feeling very unsure of herself. Now that she was faced with a classroom full of real people, this was much harder than she had anticipated, and it was going to take more than just discipline to keep them in line. Helen had given her some helpful hints, and Carla Bernini had set up the syllabus before going on maternity leave, but Victoria knew that she had to infuse her classes with life and excitement in order to keep the kids hooked. And she was scared to death that she wasn't good enough to do it and would fail. She wanted to be good at it more than anything. She didn't care how little the job paid, this was her vocation, and she wanted to be a great teacher, the kind kids remembered for years. She had no idea if she could do it, but she was trying her best. And this was only the beginning. The school year had just started.
For the next two weeks, Victoria fought to keep her students' attention. She confiscated cell phones and BlackBerrys, she gave them tough assignments, and one day when her sophomore class was too restless, she took them for a walk around the neighborhood, and made them write about it. She tried to come up with every creative idea she could, and to get to know every one of her students in all four classes, and she began to get the feeling after two months that some of them liked her. She racked her brain on the weekends searching for ideas for them, new books to read, and new projects. And sometimes she surprised them with unexpected quizzes and assignments. There was nothing dull about her classes. And by late November, she felt like she was beginning to get somewhere with them and win their respect. Not all of her students liked her, but at least they were paying attention and responding to her. By the time she got on the plane to go home for the Thanksgiving holiday, she had a feeling of accomplishment, until she saw her father. He looked at her with surprise when he met her at the airport with her mother and Grace, who hurled herself into Victoria's arms with glee, as her big sister kissed her.
"Wow! The ice cream must be good in New York," he commented, grinning broadly, and her mother looked pained, not at his comment but at Victoria's appearance. She had gained back everything she lost, while correcting papers at night and on weekends and working on her classes. She had been living on Chinese takeout, and double chocolate milk shakes. The diet she kept meaning to start just hadn't happened. Her whole focus had been on her classes and her students and not on herself. And she kept eating all the wrong foods to give herself energy, comfort, and strength.
"I guess so, Dad," Victoria said vaguely.
"Why don't you steam fish and vegetables, dear?" her mother said. Victoria marveled that after not seeing her for almost three months, her weight was all they could think about. Gracie just looked at her and beamed. She didn't care what size Victoria was, she just loved her. The two sisters walked off arm in arm toward the baggage claim, happy to be back together.
On Thanksgiving day, Victoria helped her mother cook the turkey, and she enjoyed the day and the meal with them, miraculously without negative comments from her father. The weather was balmy and warm, and they sat in the backyard afterward, and her mother asked her about her teaching.

[Dalyia]

"Do you like it?" She was still puzzled why her daughter would want to be a teacher.
"I love it." She grinned at her sister then. "And my sophomore students are horrible. They're all little monsters like you. I confiscate their iPods all the time, so they'll listen to me."
"Why don't you make them write lyrics?" Gracie suggested as her older sister looked at her in amazement. "That's what my teacher did, and we loved it."
"That's brilliant!" Victoria could hardly wait to try it on them. She had been planning to have her juniors and seniors write poetry in the weeks before Christmas. But lyrics for the sophomores was a great idea. "Thank you, Gracie."
"Just ask me about the sophomores," she said proudly, since she was one herself.
Her father managed to stay off the subject of her weight for the rest of the visit, and her mother discreetly said that she should go to Overeaters Anonymous, which really hurt Victoria's feelings, but other than that, it was a warm, comfortable weekend, especially with Gracie. And they all drove her back to the airport on Sunday. She was planning to come back in four weeks to spend Christmas with them, so this time their goodbyes weren't tearful. She was going to spend the whole vacation with them, since they had two weeks off school. And on the plane on the way back to New York, she thought again about Gracie's suggestion to have the sophomores write lyrics.
She presented the idea to her sophomore class on Wednesday morning, and they looked ecstatic. It was something they could really wrap their minds around, and for once they looked enthusiastic about an assignment. Her juniors and seniors were less thrilled with the poetry they had to write, and she was starting to help some of them with their essays for their college applications. She had her hands full.
The lyrics the sophomores wrote for her were terrific. One boy brought a guitar in, and they tried to put music to some of his words. The assignment was a huge success, and they asked if they could extend the project until Christmas vacation, and she agreed. And she gave most of them excellent grades for what they did. She had never given so many As. And the poetry assignments were surprisingly good too. By Christmas vacation, Victoria felt as though she had won their confidence, and all of them were behaving better in her classroom. Helen had noticed it too. The students looked happy and enthusiastic now when they left her room.
"What did you do to them? Give them drugs?"
"I took my fifteen-year-old sister's suggestion. I've had the sophomores writing lyrics," Victoria said proudly, and Helen was impressed by her creativity.
"That's pure genius. I wish I could do that in my class."
"I stole the idea from my sister's teacher. But it worked. And the older kids have been writing poetry. A few of them really have talent."
"So do you," Helen said with a look of admiration. "You're a damn good teacher. I hope you know that. And I'm happy that you're learning to control the class. It's better for them, and you. Even at their age, they need boundaries, discipline, and structure."
"I've been working on it," Victoria said honestly, "but sometimes I think I really screw up. There's a lot more creativity to teaching than I originally thought."
"We all screw up," Helen said candidly. "That doesn't make you a bad teacher. You keep trying and you find what works till you win them over. That's the best you can do."
"I love what I'm doing," she said happily, "even if they drive me crazy sometimes. But they don't seem as cocky lately. One of the kids even wants to go to Northwestern because I said I loved the school." Helen was smiling at her as she listened. She could see Victoria's passion for her profession in her eyes, and it warmed Helen's heart.
"I hope Eric is smart enough to hire you permanently after Carla comes back. He'll be crazy if he loses you," Helen said warmly.
"I'm just grateful to be here. We'll see what happens about next year." She knew that contracts would be offered in March and April, and she didn't know if they'd have an opening for her. She hoped so, but nothing was sure. For now, it was working, for her and the kids and the school. Eric Walker, the headmaster, had been hearing good things about her from the students. And two of the parents had commented that they liked her assignments. She really inspired the kids, and when necessary she pushed them. She thought outside the box, and wasn't afraid to try new things. She was exactly the kind of teacher they wanted.
And she had stopped eating quite as voraciously after Thanksgiving. Her father's comment, and her mother's suggesting Overeaters Anonymous, had slowed her down a little. She hadn't started any crazy new diets yet, and she was planning to do that over Christmas. She had thought about going to Weight Watchers, but she told herself she didn't have time. But for now she had eased up on the ice cream and pizza. And she was buying salads and cooked chicken breasts to eat in the kitchen with the others when she got home, and she made sure she had fruit for an afternoon snack. She still hadn't developed a social life, other than the occasional movie date with Helen, but she enjoyed her roommates. She saw more of Harlan than anyone, because Bill was always with Julie, and Bunny had been going to Boston almost every weekend to be with her boyfriend. She was thinking of moving to be with him. But Harlan was around almost as much as she was. He was single and unattached too. And he worked as hard as she did. When he came home at night, he was exhausted and happy to crash in front of the TV in his room, and meet her for a snack in the kitchen.
"So where are you going for Christmas?" she asked him one night over a cup of tea.
"I've been invited to South Beach. I'm not sure if I'm going. Miami isn't really my scene." He was a serious man who worked diligently at the museum. She knew he wasn't close to his family, and wasn't planning to go back to Mississippi for the holidays. He said his parents were still upset that he was gay, and he wasn't welcome, which she thought was sad for him.
"I'm going back to L.A. to see my parents and sister," Victoria said pensively, thinking that her parents had never fully accepted her either. She had been a misfit and an outcast in their midst all her life. Even her size upset them and made her look different. Her mother would have preferred to die than be the size she was, and would never have let that happen. And her father still couldn't resist remarks at her expense, with no awareness of how hurtful they were to her. She never believed that his cruelty was on purpose.
"Do you miss them when you're here?" Harlan asked, curious about her family.
"Sometimes. They're familiar. Mostly I miss my little sister. She's always been my baby." Victoria smiled at Harlan as he poured them both another cup of tea.
"I have an older brother who hates me. Being gay was not the thing to be in Tupelo, Mississippi, when I was growing up, and it still isn't. He and his friends used to beat me up all the time. I didn't even know why till I was fifteen and figured out why they did it. Up until then, I thought I was just different. After that, I knew. I left the minute I turned eighteen, and came to college up here. I think they were as relieved as I was. I only go back once every few years, when I run out of excuses." It sounded sad to her and very lonely. But her life at home would have been too, without Gracie.
"I'm the odd man out in my family too," she admitted. "They're all thin people with brown eyes and dark hair. I'm the family freak. My father always gives me a hard time about my weight. My mother leaves clippings on my desk about new diets."
"That's mean," Harlan said sadly, although he had noticed the things and quantities she ate when she was tired or depressed. He thought she had a pretty face and great legs, despite the generous middle. But in spite of it, she was a good-looking woman. He was surprised that she wasn't dating. "Some parents do so much damage," he said thoughtfully. "It makes me glad I'll never have kids. I wouldn't want to do to anyone what they did to me. My brother is a real jerk. He works in a bank and he's dull as dishwater. He's married and has two kids. He thinks being gay is like a disease. He keeps hoping I'll get over it, like amnesia, and remember that I'm straight, which would be less embarrassing for him." Harlan laughed as he said it. He was twenty-six years old and comfortable about who he was. He was hoping to become a curator at the Met eventually, even though the salary wasn't great. But he was very dedicated to his work, just as Victoria was to teaching. "Will Christmas be fun in L.A.?" he asked with a wistful expression, and she nodded. It would be because of Gracie.
"I loved it when my sister was little, and she still believed in Santa Claus. We still put out cookies for him, and carrots and salt for the reindeer." He smiled when she said it.
"Do you have plans for New Year's Eve?" he asked with interest, trying to imagine her life there. She never said much about her parents, only her little sister.
"Not really. I usually stay home with my sister. One of these days she'll be old enough to have a serious date, and then I'll really be up shit creek."
"Maybe we can do something if we're both back here," he said, and she liked the idea. "We can go to Times Square and watch the ball drop with all the tourists and hookers." They both laughed at the image.
"I might come home from L.A. in time to do that," Victoria said thoughtfully. "I go back to school a few days later. I'll see what's happening out there."
"Text me and let me know what you're doing," he said, and she nodded, and they put their cups in the dishwasher.
Victoria left little gifts on each of their beds for all three of her roommates when she went to L.A., and she had presents for Gracie and her parents in her suitcase. She was happy to go home and be with her family and especially to see Gracie. When they got home from the airport, they all decorated the tree and drank delicious rum punch. It was pungent and burned her tongue a little, but she liked it, and her head spun slightly when she went to bed. It felt good to be home, and Gracie slipped into bed next to her, and they giggled and talked until they fell asleep. And both her parents seemed in good spirits. Her father said he had landed an important new client for the agency, and her mother had just won a bridge tournament. And Gracie was thrilled to be on vacation and have Victoria home for the holidays. She was happy to be there.
Everything went smoothly on Christmas, and her parents and Gracie liked their presents. Her father gave her a long gold necklace, because he didn't have to worry if it fit, he said. And her mother gave her a cashmere sweater and two books on exercise and a new diet. Neither of them noticed that she had lost weight since Thanksgiving. Gracie did and complimented her, but her praise was never as potent as their parents' insults.
And two days after Christmas, Gracie got invited to a party on New Year's Eve, given at the home of one of her friends in Beverly Hills. Victoria had nothing to do. The people she knew were all working in other cities, and two of them who still lived in L.A. had gone skiing. All Victoria did over the holidays was spend time with Grace. And Gracie offered to stay home with her on New Year's Eve.
"Don't be silly--you should be with your friends. I was thinking of going back to New York then anyway."
"For a date?" Gracie looked at her with interest. This was the first she had heard of it.
"No, just one of my roommates. I don't know if he'll be there, but we were talking about doing something on New Year's Eve."
"Does he like you?" Gracie asked with a mischievous look, and Victoria laughed at the question.
"Not like that. But he's a good friend, and we have fun together. He works at the Metropolitan Museum."
"How boring," Gracie said, and rolled her eyes. She was disappointed that he didn't sound more promising. She could see that Victoria didn't consider him an option as a romance.
In the end, Victoria left L.A. the morning of New Year's Eve. Gracie was going to the party at her friends', and her parents had been invited out to dinner. She would have been alone at the house, so she decided to go back to New York. She needed to get ready for school anyway. And she texted Harlan, hoping he would be back in New York. Her father drove her to the airport, while Gracie and their mother were getting their hair done. Victoria and Gracie had said goodbye that morning.
"Do you think you'll come back after you finish the year in New York?" her father asked her on the way to the airport.
"I don't know yet, Dad." She didn't want to tell him that she didn't think so and was happy there. She didn't have a wide circle of friends yet, but she liked her roommates, her apartment, and her job. It was a start.
"You would do so much better in another field," he repeated for the thousandth time.
"I like teaching," she said quietly.
And then he laughed and glanced at her. "At least I know you'll never starve." She marveled at the fact that he never missed an opportunity to take a dig at her or cut her down. It was an important part of why she was in New York. She said nothing to him after that, and sat quietly as they drove to LAX. And as he always did, he helped her with her bags and tipped the porter for her. And then he turned to hug her, as though he had never made the comment in the car. He never got it.
"Thanks for everything, Dad."
"Take care of yourself," he said, and sounded sincere.
"You too." She hugged him, and then walked into the security lines. She boarded the plane and just as she did, she saw that she had a text from Harlan.
"I'll be back in New York by six o'clock," he had texted her. She was landing at nine P.M., local time.
"I'll be at the apartment by ten," she texted back.
"Times Square?" was his response.
"Okay."
"It's a date." She smiled as she turned her phone off. At least it was nice to know that she'd have something to do on New Year's Eve, and someone to spend it with. She had lunch on the plane, watched a movie, and slept for the last two hours of the flight. It was snowing when she landed in New York, tiny gentle flurries that made it look like a Christmas card as she rode into the city in a cab. She was excited to be back, although always sad to leave Gracie, and she had promised to let her come to visit for spring break. And her parents had said they might come with her. Victoria hoped not.
Harlan was waiting for her at the apartment, with a tan, fresh from Miami. He said he didn't like the gay scene there, it was too glitzy and superficial, and he was happy to be back too.
"So how was L.A.?" he asked her as she walked into the apartment.
"Okay. I had fun with my sister." She smiled back, and he opened a bottle of champagne and handed her a glass.
"Did your parents behave?"
"No better or worse than usual. I had a good time with my sister, but I'm happy to be back."
"Me too." He grinned and took a sip of the champagne. "You'd better wear your snow boots for Times Square."
"Are we still going?" The snow was swirling outside, but it was a gentle snow that hung in the air before it fell to the ground.
"Hell, yes. I wouldn't miss it for the world. We have to watch the big ball fall. We can come back and get warm afterward." She laughed and finished her glass of champagne.
They left the apartment in a cab at eleven-thirty, and got to Times Square ten minutes before midnight. There was a huge crowd watching the giant mirrored ball, and Victoria smiled at Harlan as the snow fell on their hair and lashes. It felt like the perfect way to spend the night. And then on the stroke of midnight, the mirrored ball plummeted, and everybody cheered. They stood there laughing and hugging, and he kissed her on the cheek.
"Happy New Year, Victoria," he said, smiling happily. He loved being with her.
"Happy New Year," she said as they hugged and looked up at the sky like two children, watching the snow come down. It looked like a stage set, and the moment felt perfect to both of them. They were young, and it was New Year's Eve in New York. For now anyway, it didn't get better than that. And it felt good to both of them to spend the evening with a friend. They stood there until their hair and coats were covered with snow, and then they walked a few blocks along Times Square among the bright lights and people, and hailed a cab to go home. It had been a perfect evening for both of them.

[Dalyia]

Chapter 11
Victoria's senior students were tense in January. They had two weeks after vacation to finish their college applications, and many of them hadn't done it, and needed help. She stayed after school every day to advise them on their essays, and they were grateful for her excellent guidance and advice. It brought her closer to the students she worked with, and some of them talked about their hopes and plans, their families, their lives at home, their dreams. Even Becki Adams asked for help, and several of the boys. A few of them admitted that they needed scholarships, but most of the kids at Madison had no worries about money. And all of them were relieved when they finished their applications and mailed them off. They wouldn't hear back until March or April, and now all they had to do was finish the school year without flunking out or getting into trouble.
On the last two days in January, Victoria attended an education conference at the Javits Center with several other teachers. There were a number of panels they could sign up for, group discussions, and lectures by well-known educators. She found it very interesting, and was grateful the school had let her participate. She had just left a lecture on early identification and warning signs of adolescent suicidality, by a child psychiatrist, when she collided with a man who wasn't looking where he was going and nearly knocked her down. He apologized profusely and helped her pick up the pamphlets and brochures that he had knocked out of her hand, and when he stood up, she was startled by how handsome he was.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to knock you down," he said pleasantly with a dazzling smile. It was hard not to stare at him, and she noticed several other women looking at him too. "Great lecture, wasn't it?" he said with a friendly smile. The lecture had opened a whole new line of thought for her. She had never worried that any of her students might be suicidal or secretly troubled, but she realized now that it was a real concern.
"Yes, it was," she agreed.
"I teach juniors and seniors, and it sounds like they're the most at risk."
"So do I," she said, as they drifted in the same direction toward a buffet that had been set up for their breaks. It had been a fascinating conference so far.
"Where do you teach?" He seemed perfectly comfortable chatting with her, and he was inclined to continue as they both stopped at the buffet.
"The Madison School," she said proudly, smiling at him.
"I've heard of it. Fancy kids, eh? I teach public school. That's a whole other world."
They went on chatting for a few minutes, and he introduced her to Ardith Lucas, a woman he knew who joined them, and then he invited Victoria to sit at a table with them. Everyone was jockeying for seats before they went to the next panel or lecture. And there were several tables set up around the room with free literature and books they could buy. He had a bag full, and Victoria had already collected the stack of brochures of most interest to her, which she'd dropped and he'd helped her pick up. He said his name was John Kelly, and he looked a few years older than she. Ardith was considerably older and said she couldn't wait to retire. She said she had done her time as a teacher for forty years and was longing to be free. Victoria and John were just starting out.
The three of them talked all through lunch. John was dazzingly good looking, extremely nice, and very bright. And after lunch he jotted down his phone number and e-mail for her, and said he'd love to get together sometime. She didn't get the feeling he was asking for a date, but wanted to be friends, and she had a feeling he was gay. She gave him her information too. She didn't know if she'd hear from him again, forgot about it, and a week later she was surprised when he called and invited her to lunch on a Saturday.
There was a new Impressionist exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum, and they both wanted to see it. She met him in the lobby, and they went through the exhibit, enjoying it together, and then went to the cafeteria for lunch. She was having a very nice time with him, and then mentioned that one of her roommates worked at the Costume Institute and was setting up a new exhibit that day. And after lunch they decided to drop by and see Harlan. He looked surprised to see Victoria, and was impressed by her new friend. It was impossible not to notice John's blond good looks, and his extremely athletic body, and when she saw them look at each other, her earlier impression of John was confirmed. The two men were drawn to each other like magnets. Harlan gave them a private tour of the Costume Institute, and when they left, John looked as though he hated to leave. And as they walked down the steps of the museum, he commented on what a terrific guy Harlan was, and Victoria agreed. She felt like Cupid suddenly, and loved the idea of introducing them. And on the spur of the moment, she invited John to dinner at the apartment on Sunday night. He looked very happy to accept, and then he took a bus downtown to where he lived, and Victoria walked home.
Harlan didn't come home till eight o'clock that night, after setting up the exhibit, and he wandered into her room when he got in. She was lying in bed watching TV.
"What was that vision of gorgeousness you brought to the Costume Institute today? I nearly fainted when you walked in. How do you know him?"
Victoria laughed at the look on his face. "I met him at a teachers' conference last week. He nearly knocked me down, literally."
"Lucky you. He seems like a really great guy."
"Yes, I think so too," she said, smiling at Harlan, "and I think he plays on your team."
"So why did he ask you out?" Harlan looked suspicious, and was worried he might be straight.
"To be friends, I think. Believe me, he doesn't look at me the way he looked at you." Men never did, not in her experience at least. "And by the way, I invited him to dinner tomorrow night." She laughed out loud at the look on Harlan's face. He looked as though she had just told him he'd won the lottery.
"Is he coming?"
"Yes. And you'd better cook dinner. If I do, I'll poison us all, unless we order pizza."
"I'd love to," Harlan said happily, and went back to his room, looking like he was floating on a cloud. He had never seen anyone as handsome as John. Harlan was a good-looking man too, and Victoria thought they looked like a good match. She wondered if some premonition or instinct had led her to introduce them to each other. It had been a spur-of-the-moment idea but now seemed like divine inspiration to her, and to Harlan as well.
He was a very proficient cook, and spent the whole next day in the kitchen, after buying a leg of lamb, potatoes, string beans, and chocolate cake at a nearby bakery. And by dinnertime, the smells emanating from the kitchen were delicious. John Kelly arrived right on time. He had brought a small bouquet of flowers and a bottle of red wine. He handed the flowers to Victoria, and the wine to Harlan, who opened it and poured them each a glass, and then they went to sit in the living room. And the two men got on like a house on fire. They never stopped talking until dinner, which was an hour later. And Harlan had set the table nicely with place mats and linen napkins, and candles on the table in the dining room. He had gone all out. And by the end of dinner, Victoria felt as though she were intruding on a date, and left them alone. She said she had papers to grade before school the next day. She closed the door softly, after telling Harlan she'd help him do the dishes later, and she turned on her TV and lay down on her bed. She was dozing when John knocked on her door to say goodbye and thank her. And when she heard the front door close, she went out to the kitchen to help Harlan clean up.
"So, how was it?" Victoria asked him with a smile.
"Wow!" Harlan said, smiling broadly. "He's the most terrific man I've ever met." He was twenty-eight years old and seemed extremely grounded, serious, and responsible and was fun to talk to as well. Harlan said he'd had a great time.
"He likes you too," Victoria commented as she rinsed the dishes Harlan handed her.
"How do you know?"
"Anyone can see that," she reassured him. "His face lit up every time you looked at each other."
"I could have talked to him all night," he said dreamily.
"Did he ask you out?" she asked, enjoying the romance starting right beneath her eyes, and she loved the idea that she had introduced them.
"Not yet. He said he'd call me tomorrow. I hope he does."
"I'm sure he will."
"We have the same birthday," Harlan said as she laughed.
"That must be a sign. Okay, now you owe me big time. If you two wind up together, I want a street named after me or something."
"If I end up with him, you can have all my autographed baseball cards from when I was a kid, and my grandmother's silver."
"I just want you to be happy," she said kindly.
"Thanks, Victoria. He seems like such a great guy."
"So are you," she said warmly.
"I never feel that way about myself. I always feel like everyone is better than I am, smarter, nicer, better looking, cooler." He looked nervous as he said it.
"So do I," she said sadly. She knew the feeling, and why she had it. It came from years of her parents telling her how inadequate she was, and her father letting her know that he thought she was fat and ugly. It had undermined her confidence and self-esteem since birth. And it was a cross she had to bear now. Deep down, she always believed that he was right.
"I guess our parents do that to us early on," Harlan said quietly. "I don't think he's had an easy time of it either. His mother committed suicide when he was a kid, and his father won't see him because he's gay. But he seems pretty healthy and normal in spite of that. He just got out of a relationship he's been in for five years. His partner cheated on him, so they broke up." Victoria was happy for Harlan and hoped that something came of it for both of them. He thanked her profusely again, and then they turned off the lights and went to their rooms. It had been a delicious dinner and a lovely night. And she had enjoyed talking to both men, although not as much as they had enjoyed talking to each other.
She left early the next morning, and didn't see Harlan that day, or the next. It was Wednesday when she ran into him in the kitchen when they both got home from work. She was afraid to ask if he had heard from John, in case he hadn't, but he volunteered the information very quickly.
"I had dinner with him last night," he said, beaming.
"How was it?"
"Amazing. I know it's too soon to say it, but I'm in love."
"Just go slow, and see how it goes." Harlan nodded but didn't look capable of following her advice.
She met John again in their kitchen that weekend. He and Harlan were cooking dinner, and John had brought over his wok and offered to leave it with him. They invited Victoria for dinner, but she said she had other plans, and went to a movie by herself so they could be alone. And they were out when she got back. She didn't know where they'd gone, and she didn't need to know. This was their story now, and their life. She just hoped it would turn out to be a loving relationship for both of them, and it looked that way for now. They appeared to be off to a terrific start. She smiled to herself as she thought about it and went to her room. As usual on the weekends, everyone was out. It reminded her that she hadn't had a date since she'd been in New York. No one had asked her out since the summer before in L.A., at least six months.
She didn't go anywhere where she was likely to meet men, except the teachers' conference where she'd met John. Other than that, she didn't go to a gym or belong to a club. She didn't go to bars. There were no single, straight, age-appropriate teachers at her school. No one had introduced her to anyone, and she hadn't met anyone on her own. She thought it would have been nice if she had, but so far all she had to fill her life was her work. And this time it was Harlan's turn, and John's. She was happy for them. And she knew that sooner or later she would meet someone. At twenty-two, it was unlikely that she would be alone for the rest of her life, no matter how overweight her father thought she was. She remembered her grandmother's old saying that there was a lid for every pot. She hoped that Harlan had found his. And with luck, she hoped that one day, she'd find hers.

[Dalyia]

Chapter 12
In March her parents and Gracie came to visit Victoria in New York during Gracie's spring break. They stayed for a week, and the two sisters had a ball, while their parents visited friends and kept busy on their own. And several times they had dinner together. Victoria picked the restaurants from a guide someone had given her, and they enjoyed them all. And Gracie loved being in New York with her. She stayed at the apartment with Victoria, and their parents stayed at the Carlyle, which was just down the street from the school where Victoria taught. The school was on spring break too so she had lots of time to spend with them. They came to her apartment several times, and met her roommates. Her father liked Bill, and thought Bunny was beautiful, but neither of her parents was enthused about Harlan. Later, over dinner, Jim made several negative comments about his being gay, and Victoria sprang to his defense.
By the time they left, Gracie was convinced that she wanted to move to New York too, and even go to college there if she could get in. Her grades were not as strong as Victoria's had been, and for the moment Victoria doubted that she'd get into NYU or Barnard. Still, there were several other great schools in New York. Victoria was sad to see her leave at the end of a week that had been fun for both of them.
Two weeks after they'd been there, Eric Walker called her into his office, and she felt like a kid who had done something wrong. She wondered if someone had reported her, or one of the parents had complained. She knew that several of the parents thought that she gave too much homework, and had called to negotiate with her. She was nonnegotiable. Her students had to do the work she gave. Helen had taught her well, and her motto was "Be tough." Victoria was never as tough as Helen was, but she made her students toe the line, and they had come to respect her for it in the past six months. She no longer had problems with any of them in class, thanks to Helen's good advice.
"How do you think your classes are going, Victoria?" the headmaster asked her with a pleasant expression. He didn't look angry or upset, and she couldn't imagine why she was there. Maybe he was just touching base. The school year was coming to a close, and her time at Madison would be up in June.
"I think they're going well," she said. She sincerely believed they were, and hoped she was right. She didn't want to end her time there in disgrace. She knew that if they didn't hire her for the coming year, she would have to start looking for a new school soon. But she was going to hate leaving the job she had. Madison was just her kind of school, and she loved how bright the kids were. She was going to miss them all.
"As you know, Carla Bernini is coming back to school in the fall." He went on, "We'll be happy to have her back, but you've done a great job, Victoria. The kids all love you, and they rave about your classes." And he'd had good feedback from the parents too, despite her fears about the homework. "I actually asked you to come in today, because we've had a change of plans. Fred Forsatch is going on sabbatical next year. He wants to take classes at Oxford and spend some time in Europe. Normally, we'd need to replace him." He was their Spanish teacher. "But Meg Phillips has a double major, and she'd like to take over his classes for next year, which leaves us with another year to fill in the English department. She only teaches seniors, as you know, and I hear you have a real gift with them. I was wondering if you'd like to take her spot next year, until Fred comes back. It means you could stay with us for another year, and who knows after that. How does that sound to you?" Her eyes were wide as she listened to him, and it was the best news she had had since he'd offered her the job a year before. She was thrilled.
"Oh my God, are you kidding? I'd love it! Are you serious?" She sounded like one of her students, and he laughed.
"No, I'm not kidding. Yes, I'm serious. And yes, I am offering you a job for next year." He was pleased that she was so enthusiastic about it. It was exactly what he had hoped to hear. They chatted for a few more minutes, and then she went back to the teachers' lounge and told everyone there.
She thanked the Spanish teacher profusely when she saw him later that afternoon. He laughed when he saw how happy she was. And he was just as pleased at the prospect of being in Europe for a year. It was something he had wanted to do for a long time.
Victoria floated all the way home, she told her roommates when they came in, and they cheered. When she called her parents that night to tell them the news, their reaction was more or less what she had expected, but she wanted to tell them anyway. She still felt obliged to report on her life to them, despite their predictably disappointing reactions, and this time was no different.
"You're just deferring getting a real job, Victoria. You can't live on that salary forever," her father said, but actually she was living on it. She hadn't asked him for help since she left home. She was careful about what she spent, and she still had some savings left. The small rent she paid kept her budget in good shape most of the time.
"This is a real job, Dad," she insisted, knowing it was pointless trying to convince him. "I love my job, the kids, and the school."
"You could be making three or four times what they pay you, at any ad agency out here, or just about any company that would hire you." He sounded disapproving, and he was not impressed that the best private school in New York had offered to hire her for a second year, and was pleased with her performance.
"It's not about the money," Victoria said, sounding disappointed. "I'm good at what I do."
"Anyone can teach, Victoria. All you do is babysit those rich kids anyway." In a single sentence he had dismissed her abilities and her career. And what he said wasn't true, she knew. Anyone couldn't teach. It was a very specific skill, and she had talent at it. Not everyone was able to do what she did. But it meant absolutely nothing to her parents. She didn't speak to her mother since she was out playing bridge, but Victoria knew she wouldn't have been impressed. She never was, and she took her cues from her husband. She echoed every opinion he had, on every subject. "I'd like you to give this some serious thought before you sign that contract," he urged her, and she sighed.
"I already have. This is what I want, and where I want to be."
"Your sister will be very upset that you're not coming home," he said, playing the guilt card. But Victoria had already warned her during spring break that she might stay another year if she got the chance, and Gracie had understood. She also knew first hand why Victoria was unhappy at home. Their parents never missed a chance to make her feel bad. It always made Gracie feel guilty that they were so nice to her, and never had been to their older daughter. Gracie had observed it all her life. It was no wonder that she had thought Victoria was adopted, when they were younger. It was hard to believe that they would be so critical and uncharitable with their own child, but they were. Nothing she did impressed them, or was ever good enough, and this was no different. Her father was annoyed, not proud of her. And as usual, only Gracie celebrated for her and with her when she called her about the job.
Harlan and John were excited about it for her too. They both gave her a big hug to congratulate her. John was a regular feature at the apartment now, and had been for two months. And the relationship was getting solid. And Bill and Bunny liked him too.
She had dinner with John and Harlan that night, and she told them about her father's reaction, and said that it was nothing new, and typical of him.
"You should go to a shrink and talk about it," John said quietly, and Victoria looked shocked. She didn't have any mental problems, didn't suffer from depression, and she had always managed her problems on her own.
"I don't think I need to do that," she said, looking horrified and a little hurt. "I do just fine."
"Of course you do," John said easily, and he believed her. "But people like that are very toxic in our lives, especially our parents. If they've been saying things like that to you all your life, you owe it to yourself to get rid of the messages they've left in your brain and your heart. That can really hold you back and hurt you in the long run." She had told Harlan about being named after Queen Victoria, and why, and he agreed with John. "You might find it very helpful." And they were also both convinced that her weight problem was due to the constant put-downs of her father. It seemed obvious to them. And her mother sounded no better, from what Victoria said about her. Harlan hated the stories she told about her parents and her childhood, and the emotional abuse she had endured for years. They hadn't abused her with fists, but with words.
"I'll think about it," she said softly, and put it out of her head as soon as she could. The thought of going to a therapist was really upsetting to her. And it didn't surprise either of them that without thinking, she helped herself to a bowl of ice cream after dinner, although neither of them was eating dessert. Neither of them insisted about the shrink, and Harlan didn't bring it up again.
And before the summer, Victoria lined up a summer job for June and July so she didn't have to go home. She took a job for very little pay tutoring underprivileged kids at a shelter where they lived while waiting to go into foster care. It sounded depressing to Harlan when she told him, but she was excited about it. She was starting there the day after Madison closed for the summer.
Gracie had a summer job that year too. It was her first one, at sixteen, and she'd be working at the desk of the swim and tennis club they belonged to. She was thrilled about it, and their parents sounded pleased. They thought Victoria's job sounded unpleasant, and her mother told her to wash her hands a lot or she might catch a disease from the kids she tutored. She thanked her for the advice and was annoyed that the job she was doing didn't impress them, nor did her work as a teacher, but Gracie working at the desk in a tennis club was cause for celebration and endless praise. It didn't make her angry at Gracie, only at them.
Before she started work, Gracie was coming to visit Victoria in New York.
This time Gracie came alone without their parents, and they had even more fun than they had had in March. She kept herself busy in the daytime, going to galleries and museums and going shopping, and Victoria took her out to movies and restaurants at night. They even went to a Broadway play.
And as usual Victoria was planning to go home in August. It was the longest time she spent with them now every year. But this time she only intended to stay for two weeks, which was more than long enough for her. And once there, as usual, her father criticized her frequently about her job, and her mother nagged her constantly about her weight, which had gone up again after a brief dip in the spring. Before she left New York, Victoria had gone on a cabbage diet, which helped her lose weight. The diet was miserable, but it worked, and then a short time afterward she gained all the weight back again. It was a battle she just couldn't seem to win. It was discouraging.
When she got back to New York, she was disheartened by the things her parents had said, and the weight she had put back on, and she thought about Harlan's suggestion that she see a shrink. And in a dark mood one day right before school started, she called a name he had given her. It was a woman he had met, and he said that a friend of his had gone to her and liked her a lot. Before Victoria could change her mind, she called her and made an appointment for the following week. And she agonized about it as soon as she did. It seemed like a crazy thing to do, and she thought about canceling, but didn't have the courage to do that either. She felt stuck. And she ate half a cheesecake alone in the kitchen the night before she went. What if the woman discovered that she was crazy, or that her parents were right about her and she was a total failure as a human being? What kept her from canceling the appointment was the hope that they were wrong.
When Victoria went to the appointment with the psychiatrist, she was literally shaking, and had felt sick to her stomach all day. She couldn't remember why she had made the appointment and wished she hadn't, and her mouth was so dry when she sat down that she felt like her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Dr. Watson looked sensible and pleasant. She was in her early forties, and she was wearing a well-cut navy blue suit. She had a good haircut, wore makeup, and looked more stylish than Victoria had expected, and she had a warm smile that started in her eyes. She asked Victoria a few details about where she had grown up, where she had gone to school, and college, how many siblings she had, and if her parents were still married or divorced. They were all easy questions to answer, especially the one about Gracie. Victoria lit up like a light-bulb when she answered the question about having a sibling, and then described her and how beautiful she was. She told the doctor then about how different she herself looked from all of them and had thought she was adopted as a child, and her sister had thought so too.
"What made you think something like that?" the doctor asked casually, sitting across from Victoria as they sat in comfortable chairs. There was no couch in her office, only a box of Kleenex, which seemed ominous to Victoria and made her wonder if people cried often when they were there.
"I was always so different from them," Victoria explained. "I don't look like them in any way. They all have dark hair. I'm fair. My parents and sister have dark brown eyes. Mine are blue. I am a big person. All three of them are thin. Not only do I put on weight easily, I overeat when I'm upset. I've always had a problem with ... with my weight. Even our noses aren't the same, but I look like my great-grandmother." And then she blurted out something she didn't expect to say. "I've felt like an outsider with them all my life. My father named me after Queen Victoria because he said I looked like her. I always thought she was beautiful because she was a queen. And then I saw a photograph of her when I was six, and realized what my father meant. He meant I was fat and ugly just like her."
"What did you do then, once you knew that?" the doctor asked quietly with a sympathetic expression.
"I cried. It almost broke my heart. I always believed he thought I was beautiful until then. And from then on I knew the truth. He used to laugh about it, and when my sister was born when I was seven, he said I had been their tester cake, to check the recipe, throw the tester cake away, and they got it right the second time. Gracie was always the perfect child, and she looks just like them. I didn't. I was the tester cake they wanted to throw away. She was the prize."
"How did that make you feel?" The cool quiet gaze stayed focused on Victoria's face. Victoria didn't even know that there were tears rolling down her cheeks.
"It felt terrible, about me, but I loved my baby sister so much I didn't care. But I've always known what they thought of me. I'm never good enough, no matter what I do. And maybe they're right. I mean, look at me, I'm fat. And every time I lose weight, I gain it right back again. My mother gets upset every time she looks at me and tells me I should be on a diet or going to the gym. My father hands me the mashed potatoes and then makes fun of me when I eat them." What she was saying would have horrified anyone, but nothing showed on the psychiatrist's face. She just listened sympathetically with an occasional murmuring sound.
"Why do you think they say those things to you? Do you think it's about them or about you? Doesn't it say more about them as people? Would you say things like that to your child?"
"Never. Maybe they just wanted me to be better than I am. The only thing they think is beautiful about me are my legs. My father says I have killer legs."
"What about inside? What about the kind of person you are? You sound like a good person to me."
"I think I am ... I hope I am ... I try very hard to do the right things. Except about eating. But I mean to other people. I've always taken good care of my sister." Victoria sounded sad as she said it.
"I believe that, and that you do the right things," Dr. Watson said, looking warm for the first time. "How about your parents? Do you think they do the right things, for you for instance?"
"Not really ... sometimes ... they paid for my education. And we've never been deprived. My father just says things that hurt me. He hates how I look, and he thinks my job isn't good enough."
"And what does your mother do then?"
"She's always on his side. I think he was always more important to her than my sister and I were. He's everything in my mother's life. And my sister was an accident. I didn't know what that meant till I was about fifteen. I heard them say it before she was born, and I thought she was going to arrive all banged up. And of course she didn't. She was the most gorgeous baby I've ever seen. She's been in commercials and ad campaigns a few times."
The portrait of her family that Victoria painted was totally clear, not only to the psychiatrist, but to herself as she listened to what she said. It was the portrait of a textbook narcissist and his enabling wife, who had been unthinkably cruel to their oldest child, rejecting and ridiculing her all her life, for not being an appropriate accessory to them. And her younger sister had fit the bill for them perfectly. The only surprise was that Victoria had never hated her little sister, but loved her as much as she did. It was proof of her loving nature and generous heart. She took pleasure in how beautiful Grace was. And she had accepted the horrible things her parents had said about her as gospel. She had been shackled by their cruelty all her life. Victoria was embarrassed by some of the things she had said, but they were all true, and had the ring of truth to the psychiatrist as well. She didn't doubt them for a minute.
And then she glanced at a clock just beyond Victoria's shoulder and asked her if she would like to come back the following week. And before she could stop herself, Victoria nodded and then said that she would have to come in the afternoon after school since she was a teacher, which the psychiatrist said was fine. She gave her an appointment and handed her a card with the time written on it, and smiled.

[Dalyia]

Chapter 12
In March her parents and Gracie came to visit Victoria in New York during Gracie's spring break. They stayed for a week, and the two sisters had a ball, while their parents visited friends and kept busy on their own. And several times they had dinner together. Victoria picked the restaurants from a guide someone had given her, and they enjoyed them all. And Gracie loved being in New York with her. She stayed at the apartment with Victoria, and their parents stayed at the Carlyle, which was just down the street from the school where Victoria taught. The school was on spring break too so she had lots of time to spend with them. They came to her apartment several times, and met her roommates. Her father liked Bill, and thought Bunny was beautiful, but neither of her parents was enthused about Harlan. Later, over dinner, Jim made several negative comments about his being gay, and Victoria sprang to his defense.
By the time they left, Gracie was convinced that she wanted to move to New York too, and even go to college there if she could get in. Her grades were not as strong as Victoria's had been, and for the moment Victoria doubted that she'd get into NYU or Barnard. Still, there were several other great schools in New York. Victoria was sad to see her leave at the end of a week that had been fun for both of them.
Two weeks after they'd been there, Eric Walker called her into his office, and she felt like a kid who had done something wrong. She wondered if someone had reported her, or one of the parents had complained. She knew that several of the parents thought that she gave too much homework, and had called to negotiate with her. She was nonnegotiable. Her students had to do the work she gave. Helen had taught her well, and her motto was "Be tough." Victoria was never as tough as Helen was, but she made her students toe the line, and they had come to respect her for it in the past six months. She no longer had problems with any of them in class, thanks to Helen's good advice.
"How do you think your classes are going, Victoria?" the headmaster asked her with a pleasant expression. He didn't look angry or upset, and she couldn't imagine why she was there. Maybe he was just touching base. The school year was coming to a close, and her time at Madison would be up in June.
"I think they're going well," she said. She sincerely believed they were, and hoped she was right. She didn't want to end her time there in disgrace. She knew that if they didn't hire her for the coming year, she would have to start looking for a new school soon. But she was going to hate leaving the job she had. Madison was just her kind of school, and she loved how bright the kids were. She was going to miss them all.
"As you know, Carla Bernini is coming back to school in the fall." He went on, "We'll be happy to have her back, but you've done a great job, Victoria. The kids all love you, and they rave about your classes." And he'd had good feedback from the parents too, despite her fears about the homework. "I actually asked you to come in today, because we've had a change of plans. Fred Forsatch is going on sabbatical next year. He wants to take classes at Oxford and spend some time in Europe. Normally, we'd need to replace him." He was their Spanish teacher. "But Meg Phillips has a double major, and she'd like to take over his classes for next year, which leaves us with another year to fill in the English department. She only teaches seniors, as you know, and I hear you have a real gift with them. I was wondering if you'd like to take her spot next year, until Fred comes back. It means you could stay with us for another year, and who knows after that. How does that sound to you?" Her eyes were wide as she listened to him, and it was the best news she had had since he'd offered her the job a year before. She was thrilled.
"Oh my God, are you kidding? I'd love it! Are you serious?" She sounded like one of her students, and he laughed.
"No, I'm not kidding. Yes, I'm serious. And yes, I am offering you a job for next year." He was pleased that she was so enthusiastic about it. It was exactly what he had hoped to hear. They chatted for a few more minutes, and then she went back to the teachers' lounge and told everyone there.
She thanked the Spanish teacher profusely when she saw him later that afternoon. He laughed when he saw how happy she was. And he was just as pleased at the prospect of being in Europe for a year. It was something he had wanted to do for a long time.
Victoria floated all the way home, she told her roommates when they came in, and they cheered. When she called her parents that night to tell them the news, their reaction was more or less what she had expected, but she wanted to tell them anyway. She still felt obliged to report on her life to them, despite their predictably disappointing reactions, and this time was no different.
"You're just deferring getting a real job, Victoria. You can't live on that salary forever," her father said, but actually she was living on it. She hadn't asked him for help since she left home. She was careful about what she spent, and she still had some savings left. The small rent she paid kept her budget in good shape most of the time.
"This is a real job, Dad," she insisted, knowing it was pointless trying to convince him. "I love my job, the kids, and the school."
"You could be making three or four times what they pay you, at any ad agency out here, or just about any company that would hire you." He sounded disapproving, and he was not impressed that the best private school in New York had offered to hire her for a second year, and was pleased with her performance.
"It's not about the money," Victoria said, sounding disappointed. "I'm good at what I do."
"Anyone can teach, Victoria. All you do is babysit those rich kids anyway." In a single sentence he had dismissed her abilities and her career. And what he said wasn't true, she knew. Anyone couldn't teach. It was a very specific skill, and she had talent at it. Not everyone was able to do what she did. But it meant absolutely nothing to her parents. She didn't speak to her mother since she was out playing bridge, but Victoria knew she wouldn't have been impressed. She never was, and she took her cues from her husband. She echoed every opinion he had, on every subject. "I'd like you to give this some serious thought before you sign that contract," he urged her, and she sighed.
"I already have. This is what I want, and where I want to be."
"Your sister will be very upset that you're not coming home," he said, playing the guilt card. But Victoria had already warned her during spring break that she might stay another year if she got the chance, and Gracie had understood. She also knew first hand why Victoria was unhappy at home. Their parents never missed a chance to make her feel bad. It always made Gracie feel guilty that they were so nice to her, and never had been to their older daughter. Gracie had observed it all her life. It was no wonder that she had thought Victoria was adopted, when they were younger. It was hard to believe that they would be so critical and uncharitable with their own child, but they were. Nothing she did impressed them, or was ever good enough, and this was no different. Her father was annoyed, not proud of her. And as usual, only Gracie celebrated for her and with her when she called her about the job.
Harlan and John were excited about it for her too. They both gave her a big hug to congratulate her. John was a regular feature at the apartment now, and had been for two months. And the relationship was getting solid. And Bill and Bunny liked him too.
She had dinner with John and Harlan that night, and she told them about her father's reaction, and said that it was nothing new, and typical of him.
"You should go to a shrink and talk about it," John said quietly, and Victoria looked shocked. She didn't have any mental problems, didn't suffer from depression, and she had always managed her problems on her own.
"I don't think I need to do that," she said, looking horrified and a little hurt. "I do just fine."
"Of course you do," John said easily, and he believed her. "But people like that are very toxic in our lives, especially our parents. If they've been saying things like that to you all your life, you owe it to yourself to get rid of the messages they've left in your brain and your heart. That can really hold you back and hurt you in the long run." She had told Harlan about being named after Queen Victoria, and why, and he agreed with John. "You might find it very helpful." And they were also both convinced that her weight problem was due to the constant put-downs of her father. It seemed obvious to them. And her mother sounded no better, from what Victoria said about her. Harlan hated the stories she told about her parents and her childhood, and the emotional abuse she had endured for years. They hadn't abused her with fists, but with words.
"I'll think about it," she said softly, and put it out of her head as soon as she could. The thought of going to a therapist was really upsetting to her. And it didn't surprise either of them that without thinking, she helped herself to a bowl of ice cream after dinner, although neither of them was eating dessert. Neither of them insisted about the shrink, and Harlan didn't bring it up again.
And before the summer, Victoria lined up a summer job for June and July so she didn't have to go home. She took a job for very little pay tutoring underprivileged kids at a shelter where they lived while waiting to go into foster care. It sounded depressing to Harlan when she told him, but she was excited about it. She was starting there the day after Madison closed for the summer.
Gracie had a summer job that year too. It was her first one, at sixteen, and she'd be working at the desk of the swim and tennis club they belonged to. She was thrilled about it, and their parents sounded pleased. They thought Victoria's job sounded unpleasant, and her mother told her to wash her hands a lot or she might catch a disease from the kids she tutored. She thanked her for the advice and was annoyed that the job she was doing didn't impress them, nor did her work as a teacher, but Gracie working at the desk in a tennis club was cause for celebration and endless praise. It didn't make her angry at Gracie, only at them.
Before she started work, Gracie was coming to visit Victoria in New York.
This time Gracie came alone without their parents, and they had even more fun than they had had in March. She kept herself busy in the daytime, going to galleries and museums and going shopping, and Victoria took her out to movies and restaurants at night. They even went to a Broadway play.
And as usual Victoria was planning to go home in August. It was the longest time she spent with them now every year. But this time she only intended to stay for two weeks, which was more than long enough for her. And once there, as usual, her father criticized her frequently about her job, and her mother nagged her constantly about her weight, which had gone up again after a brief dip in the spring. Before she left New York, Victoria had gone on a cabbage diet, which helped her lose weight. The diet was miserable, but it worked, and then a short time afterward she gained all the weight back again. It was a battle she just couldn't seem to win. It was discouraging.
When she got back to New York, she was disheartened by the things her parents had said, and the weight she had put back on, and she thought about Harlan's suggestion that she see a shrink. And in a dark mood one day right before school started, she called a name he had given her. It was a woman he had met, and he said that a friend of his had gone to her and liked her a lot. Before Victoria could change her mind, she called her and made an appointment for the following week. And she agonized about it as soon as she did. It seemed like a crazy thing to do, and she thought about canceling, but didn't have the courage to do that either. She felt stuck. And she ate half a cheesecake alone in the kitchen the night before she went. What if the woman discovered that she was crazy, or that her parents were right about her and she was a total failure as a human being? What kept her from canceling the appointment was the hope that they were wrong.
When Victoria went to the appointment with the psychiatrist, she was literally shaking, and had felt sick to her stomach all day. She couldn't remember why she had made the appointment and wished she hadn't, and her mouth was so dry when she sat down that she felt like her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Dr. Watson looked sensible and pleasant. She was in her early forties, and she was wearing a well-cut navy blue suit. She had a good haircut, wore makeup, and looked more stylish than Victoria had expected, and she had a warm smile that started in her eyes. She asked Victoria a few details about where she had grown up, where she had gone to school, and college, how many siblings she had, and if her parents were still married or divorced. They were all easy questions to answer, especially the one about Gracie. Victoria lit up like a light-bulb when she answered the question about having a sibling, and then described her and how beautiful she was. She told the doctor then about how different she herself looked from all of them and had thought she was adopted as a child, and her sister had thought so too.
"What made you think something like that?" the doctor asked casually, sitting across from Victoria as they sat in comfortable chairs. There was no couch in her office, only a box of Kleenex, which seemed ominous to Victoria and made her wonder if people cried often when they were there.
"I was always so different from them," Victoria explained. "I don't look like them in any way. They all have dark hair. I'm fair. My parents and sister have dark brown eyes. Mine are blue. I am a big person. All three of them are thin. Not only do I put on weight easily, I overeat when I'm upset. I've always had a problem with ... with my weight. Even our noses aren't the same, but I look like my great-grandmother." And then she blurted out something she didn't expect to say. "I've felt like an outsider with them all my life. My father named me after Queen Victoria because he said I looked like her. I always thought she was beautiful because she was a queen. And then I saw a photograph of her when I was six, and realized what my father meant. He meant I was fat and ugly just like her."
"What did you do then, once you knew that?" the doctor asked quietly with a sympathetic expression.
"I cried. It almost broke my heart. I always believed he thought I was beautiful until then. And from then on I knew the truth. He used to laugh about it, and when my sister was born when I was seven, he said I had been their tester cake, to check the recipe, throw the tester cake away, and they got it right the second time. Gracie was always the perfect child, and she looks just like them. I didn't. I was the tester cake they wanted to throw away. She was the prize."
"How did that make you feel?" The cool quiet gaze stayed focused on Victoria's face. Victoria didn't even know that there were tears rolling down her cheeks.
"It felt terrible, about me, but I loved my baby sister so much I didn't care. But I've always known what they thought of me. I'm never good enough, no matter what I do. And maybe they're right. I mean, look at me, I'm fat. And every time I lose weight, I gain it right back again. My mother gets upset every time she looks at me and tells me I should be on a diet or going to the gym. My father hands me the mashed potatoes and then makes fun of me when I eat them." What she was saying would have horrified anyone, but nothing showed on the psychiatrist's face. She just listened sympathetically with an occasional murmuring sound.
"Why do you think they say those things to you? Do you think it's about them or about you? Doesn't it say more about them as people? Would you say things like that to your child?"
"Never. Maybe they just wanted me to be better than I am. The only thing they think is beautiful about me are my legs. My father says I have killer legs."
"What about inside? What about the kind of person you are? You sound like a good person to me."
"I think I am ... I hope I am ... I try very hard to do the right things. Except about eating. But I mean to other people. I've always taken good care of my sister." Victoria sounded sad as she said it.
"I believe that, and that you do the right things," Dr. Watson said, looking warm for the first time. "How about your parents? Do you think they do the right things, for you for instance?"
"Not really ... sometimes ... they paid for my education. And we've never been deprived. My father just says things that hurt me. He hates how I look, and he thinks my job isn't good enough."
"And what does your mother do then?"
"She's always on his side. I think he was always more important to her than my sister and I were. He's everything in my mother's life. And my sister was an accident. I didn't know what that meant till I was about fifteen. I heard them say it before she was born, and I thought she was going to arrive all banged up. And of course she didn't. She was the most gorgeous baby I've ever seen. She's been in commercials and ad campaigns a few times."
The portrait of her family that Victoria painted was totally clear, not only to the psychiatrist, but to herself as she listened to what she said. It was the portrait of a textbook narcissist and his enabling wife, who had been unthinkably cruel to their oldest child, rejecting and ridiculing her all her life, for not being an appropriate accessory to them. And her younger sister had fit the bill for them perfectly. The only surprise was that Victoria had never hated her little sister, but loved her as much as she did. It was proof of her loving nature and generous heart. She took pleasure in how beautiful Grace was. And she had accepted the horrible things her parents had said about her as gospel. She had been shackled by their cruelty all her life. Victoria was embarrassed by some of the things she had said, but they were all true, and had the ring of truth to the psychiatrist as well. She didn't doubt them for a minute.
And then she glanced at a clock just beyond Victoria's shoulder and asked her if she would like to come back the following week. And before she could stop herself, Victoria nodded and then said that she would have to come in the afternoon after school since she was a teacher, which the psychiatrist said was fine. She gave her an appointment and handed her a card with the time written on it, and smiled

"I think we did some good work today, Victoria. I hope you think so too."
"We did?" She looked surprised. She had been entirely open and honest with her. And she felt suddenly disloyal to her parents for the things she had said. But she hadn't lied. They had said all those things to her over the years. Maybe they hadn't meant them to be as cruel as they sounded. And what if they did? What did that mean, about her and about them? It was a mystery to her now, which would have to wait another week to be solved, until she met with the shrink again. But she didn't feel crazy when she left, as she had feared. She felt saner than she ever had, and painfully lucid about her parents.
Dr. Watson escorted her out, and when Victoria stepped out into the sunlight, she felt dazed for a minute and blinded by the light. The doctor closed the door softly behind her, and Victoria slowly walked away. She had a feeling that she had opened a door that afternoon and let the light into the dark corners of her heart. And whatever happened now, she knew she couldn't close that door again. And thinking about it, she cried with relief as she walked all the way home.

.

[Dalyia]

Chapter 13
For Victoria's second year at the Madison School, she got a very respectable raise. It wasn't an amount that impressed her father, but it gave her a little more leeway in how she lived. And now she only taught seniors, which was her favorite group anyway. Juniors were much more intense and stressed out, and sophomores were immature and harder to direct. They were still babies in many ways, testing their limits and often rude. Seniors were in the home stretch, and had begun to acquire a certain poise and sense of humor about life. And they were enjoying their last year at home as kids. It made them much more fun to be with. Nostalgia began to set in during their last months in high school. Victoria enjoyed being part of it and sharing their final year with them. They were almost cooked.
Carla Bernini came back to school after her year-long maternity leave and was impressed by all that Victoria had accomplished with her students, and had a deep respect for her, however young. And they became good friends. She brought her baby to school once in a while to visit, and Victoria thought he was really cute. He was a bouncing happy baby, who reminded her of Grace at the same age.
And she was continuing to see Dr. Watson at her office once a week. She thought it was making subtle changes in how she looked at life, saw herself, and viewed her lifelong experiences with her parents. They had been toxic and hurtful to her all her life. She was beginning to face that now. And she had taken some positive steps since she had started therapy. She was dieting again and had joined a gym. Sometimes the sessions of remembering the things her parents had done and said left her so raw that all she could do was come home and drown herself in comfort foods. Ice cream was always her drug of choice, and sometimes her best friend. But the next day she would eat very little and spend extra time at the gym to atone for her sins. Dr. Watson had recommended a nutritionist who'd given Victoria good advice about planning her meals. Victoria had also tried a hypnotist, which she hadn't liked and which had no effect.
Most of all she enjoyed her job and the kids she taught. She was learning a lot, about teaching, and about life. And she had more confidence in herself since starting to see the shrink, even if she hadn't conquered her eating issues yet. She hoped she would one day, even if she knew she would never look like Gracie or her mother. Since working with the shrink, she was happier with herself.
She was in a good place when school started, and a new chemistry teacher came on board to replace one who had retired. He seemed like a good guy, and had pleasant looks. He wasn't movie star handsome, but he had a gentle, kind manner, and was friendly to teachers and kids. Everybody liked him, and he had made a real effort to get to know them all. He sat down next to Victoria in the teachers' lounge one day. She was eating a salad from a nearby deli, and trying to correct the last of some papers she wanted to return to the students that day. She still had some spare time before her next class, when he unwrapped a sub sandwich at the table, sitting next to her. She couldn't help noticing that it smelled delicious, and she felt like a rabbit eating her salad. She had sprinkled the lettuce leaves with lemon, instead of the generous portion of ranch dressing she would have preferred. She was trying to be good, and had an appointment with her shrink the next day.
"Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Jack Bailey," he introduced himself between bites of the sandwich. He had salt and pepper hair, although he was in his early thirties, and a beard, all of which gave him a mature appearance to the kids. He was easy to take seriously, and Victoria smiled at him and introduced herself as she munched her lettuce.
"I know who you are," he said, smiling at her. "Every senior in this school loves you. You're a tough act to follow when they come to me after your class. They have so much more fun with you. I don't know how you come up with some of your ideas. You're a star here." It was a nice thing to say, and she was pleased.
"They're not always so crazy about me," she assured him. "Especially when I give them surprise quizzes."
"I could never decide if I wanted to be a physicist or a poet when I was growing up. I think you made the better choice."
"I'm not a poet either," she said simply, "just a teacher. How are you enjoying the school?"
"I love it. I taught in a small rural school in Oklahoma last year. The kids are a lot more sophisticated here." And she knew he was too. She had heard that he had graduated from MIT. "I'm having a lot of fun discovering New York. I'm originally from Texas. I lived in Boston for a couple of years after I graduated, then migrated to Oklahoma. I love being in this city," he said warmly, as he finished his sandwich.
"Me too. I'm from L.A. I've been here for a year. There's still a lot I want to do and see."
"Maybe we should do that together," he said with a hopeful look, and for a moment she felt a flutter. She wasn't sure if he was serious about the suggestion, or just being friendly. She would have loved to go out with someone like him. She'd had a few dates in the past few months, including someone she'd gone to high school with in L.A., and all of them were duds. Her dating life was still almost nonexistent, and Jack was the only really eligible man at school. All of the single female teachers had been talking about him since he arrived, and referred to him as a "hunk." Victoria was well aware of that as they were speaking.
"That would be fun," she said casually in case he hadn't really meant it.
"Do you like theater?" he asked as they both stood up. He was considerably taller than she was, well over six feet.
"Very much. I can't really afford it," she said honestly, "but I go once in a while, just to treat myself."
"There's an off-off-Broadway play I've been meaning to see. It's a little dark, but I hear it's great. I've met the playwright. Maybe we could go this weekend, if you're free." She didn't want to tell him that she was free for the rest of her life, particularly for him. She was flattered by his interest.
"That sounds great," she said, smiling warmly, sure that he wouldn't follow up on the invitation. She was used to men being friendly to her, and never calling her after that. And she had very few opportunities to meet single men. She lived and worked among women, kids, and gay and married men. An eligible bachelor was a rarity in her world. Her shrink had been encouraging her to get out and meet more people, not just men. Her world was limited to and defined by school.
"I'll send you an e-mail," he promised as they both left the teachers' lounge and went back to work. They were teaching classes at the same time. He waved and disappeared in the opposite direction, to where the science labs were, and she drifted past Helen's classroom on the way to her own. She was talking to Carla Bernini, and both women looked up and smiled as she walked by. She stopped in the doorway for a minute.
"Hi, you guys." She loved the camaraderie they all shared. Both women were older than she was, but working at a school was frequently like being part of a family, with a lot of older siblings who were her fellow teachers, and younger ones who were the students. They were all in this together.
"Rumor has it that you had lunch with the hunk in the lounge," Carla said with a broad grin, and Victoria smiled, looking sheepish.
"Are you kidding? We sat at the same table. Leave the poor guy alone. Half the school is after him. He was just being polite. Do you two have radar, or are you bugging the teachers' lounge?" All three women laughed. They knew only too well that all schools were gossip mills, where teachers talked about each other as well as the students, and what was happening in their lives, and everyone knew everything that went on.
"He's cute," Carla volunteered, and Helen agreed, as Victoria rolled her eyes.
"Believe me, he's not after me. I'm sure he has better fish to fry." And it was common knowledge that the hot new French teacher was after him. What chance would she have?
"He'd be lucky to have you," Carla said warmly. She had become very fond of their youngest colleague, and she had a lot of respect for Victoria as a teacher, even though she still had a lot to learn. But she had done very well in her first year.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Victoria said again, and walked on to her classroom. It was amazing to her how fast news traveled in a high school. Faster than the speed of sound. She wondered if he would actually send her an e-mail. She doubted it, but he'd been nice to talk to over lunch. She didn't expect anything to come of it, and said as much to her shrink the next day.
"Why not?" her doctor asked her. "Why do you think he won't follow through on what he said?"
"Because it was no big deal, just casual conversation over lunch. He probably didn't mean it."
"What if he did? What would that say to you?"
"I guess that he likes me, or maybe he's just lonely."
"So you think you're only worthy as a stopgap for lonely guys? What if he actually likes you?"
"I think he was just being polite," Victoria said firmly. She'd been disappointed before by men who she thought were interested in her and never called her.
"What makes you think that?" her psychiatrist said with quiet interest. "Do you think you deserve a nice man to go out with?" There was a long silence while Victoria pondered the question.
"I don't know. I'm overweight. I'm not as pretty as my sister. I hate my nose. And my mother says men don't like smart women." The psychiatrist smiled at her answer, and Victoria laughed nervously at her own response.
"Well, we can agree that you're smart. That's a good beginning. And I don't agree with your mother. Smart men like smart women. The superficial ones may not, and may be threatened by them. But you wouldn't want one of those men. Your nose looks fine to me. And weight is not a character flaw, it's something you can change. A man who really likes you and cares about you won't care about your weight one way or another. You're a very attractive woman, Victoria, and any man would be lucky to have you." It was nice to hear, but Victoria didn't entirely believe her. The evidence in the other side of the scale had been too heavy for too long--the insults of her father, the constant dismissal of her parents, her own sense of failure. "Let's see if he calls you. But even if he doesn't, all that means is that he has other interests. It doesn't mean that no man will ever want you." She was twenty-three years old, and so far no male she'd ever known had fallen seriously in love with her. She had been passed over and ignored for years, except by friends. She felt like a shapeless, sexless, totally undesirable object. And it was going to take hard work and dedication to turn that around. It was why she was here. To change the image her parents had given her of herself. And she said she was willing to do whatever it took, even if the process was painful for her. Living with her own sense of defeat was worse. It had been her parents' legacy to her, to make her feel unlovable, because they didn't love her. It had started the day she was born. She had twenty-three years of their negative messages about her to cancel out now, one by one. And finally she was ready to face it.
Victoria felt a little discouraged after the session. It was hard digging through her past at times, pulling all those ugly memories out into the open and looking long and hard at them. She was still feeling down about it when she got home. She hated remembering those things, and all the times her father had hurt her feelings and her mother had turned a deaf ear and blind eye and never come to her defense. Her own mother. The only one who ever had was Gracie.
And what did that say about her? That her own mother didn't love her? Nor her father. And the only one who could was a child, who didn't know any better. It told her that no intelligent adult could love her, not even her parents. And she had to learn to remind herself now that it was a flaw in their psychological makeup, not her own.
She turned on her computer when she got home and checked her e-mail. She had one from Gracie, telling her what was happening at school, and about a drama with a new boy she had a crush on. At sixteen she had more boys circling her at one time than Victoria had had in a lifetime, even if they were just kids. The voice on her computer said she had mail as she finished reading Gracie's message with a grin. And then she switched over to see who it was. She didn't recognize the e-mail address at first, and as she read it again, it clicked for her immediately: Jack Bailey. The new chemistry teacher at lunch in the student lounge. She opened his e-mail quickly, trying not to feel anxious. It could have been something about school or one of the students they shared, and she sat staring at the e-mail after she read it.Hi. Nice seeing you at lunch yesterday, and having time to chat. I managed to get two tickets to the play I mentioned to you. Any chance you'd like to join me on Saturday? Dinner before or after? Potluck at nearby diner, provided by starving chem teacher. Let me know if you're free and it's of interest. See you around school.Jack.
Victoria sat staring at it endlessly, wondering what it meant. Friendship? A date? Someone who had no friends in New York and was just lonely? Did he like her? She felt like Gracie with her high school romances as she tried to read between the lines. It made her nervous, and maybe it was just what it appeared to be. Dinner and a play on a Saturday night, offered by a nice guy. They could figure out the rest later, if they wanted to go out again. She couldn't wait to tell Harlan about it when he got home.
"That's what they call dating, Victoria. A guy asks you out. He offers to feed you, possibly entertainment, in this case a play. And if you both have fun, you do it again. What did you answer?" He asked with interest, but he was happy for her. She looked excited.
"Nothing. I wasn't sure what to say. How do you know it's a date?"
"Time of day. Offer of food. Entertainment provided. Saturday night. Your sexes, your ages, career in common. You're both single. I'd say it's a pretty safe bet that this is a date." He was laughing at her, and she looked nervous.
"Maybe he just wants to be friends."
"Maybe. But plenty of romances start as friendships. Since you both work at a fancy school, I don't think he's an ax murderer. He doesn't appear to have any serious addictions, or substance abuse issues. He probably hasn't been recently arrested. I think you'd probably be safe for dinner and a play. If not, you can always carry Mace." She grinned at the suggestion.
"Besides, this isn't just his show, you know. You might decide you don't like him." He wanted her to know that she had decision-making power here too.
"Why would I do that? He's smart, he's nice looking. He went to MIT. He's got a lot more going for him than I do. He could go out with anyone he wanted."
"Yes, and so could you. And besides, he asked you. Let's keep the playing field level here. You have just as much free choice here as he does. No one died and made him king." It was good advice, and she knew it, and it was a reality check for her. She felt so inadequate and unlovable most of the time, she knew now, that she forgot that she had a voice in this too. The decision was not only just his. "And don't forget the lamb chop factor," Harlan said with a serious air, as he made them both a cup of tea.
"What's that?" Victoria asked with a puzzled expression.
"You meet a guy who is so gorgeous it knocks you flat on your ass, and you can hardly breathe when you see him. He's brilliant, charming, and funny, as well as the best-looking guy you've ever seen. Maybe he even drives a Ferrari. Then you see him eat a lamb chop, like he was born in a stable and eats like a pig in a trough, and you never want to see him again." Victoria burst out laughing at what he said.
"Can't you teach him table manners?" she asked innocently.
Harlan shook his head with a determined look. "Never. It's too embarrassing. And so is introducing a guy like that to your friends, while he sits at the table, slobbering over his lamb chop, slurping his soup, and licking his fingers. Forget the guys who eat like Tom Jones. You can check him out at the diner," he said seriously, while Victoria grinned.
"Okay. I'll order lamb chops and offer him one."
"Trust me. It's the ultimate test. You can live with almost anything else." They were both laughing by then, and he was teasing her, but there was a small degree of truth to what he said. It was hard to predict in the beginning what would totally melt your heart about someone, or turn you off forever. Guys who tipped badly or left no tip at all, were rude to waiters, or crude, had always been a turn-off for her. She had never considered lamb chops before. "So what are you going to do now?" Harlan asked her. "I suggest you accept his invitation. I can't remember the last time you had a date, and you probably can't either."
"Yes, I can," she said defensively. "I went on a date in L.A. this summer. He was someone I was in eighth grade with, and I ran into him at our swim club."
"So? You didn't mention him before."
"He was incredibly boring. He sells real estate for his mother, and he spent the whole dinner talking about his low back pain, his migraines, and his hereditary bunions. It was a pretty boring evening."
"Jesus, you wonder how a guy like that ever gets laid. He must not get a lot of second dates." They were both laughing at her description. "I hope you didn't sleep with him."
"No," she said primly, "he had a headache. And so did I by dessert. I ate dinner and left. He called a couple of times after that, and I lied and told him I'd gone back to New York. Fortunately, I didn't run into him again."
"In light of that experience, I think you ought to go out with the chemistry teacher. If he's not signing up for bunion surgery and doesn't get a migraine at dinner, you'll be way ahead of the game."
"I think you're right," she said, and went to answer Jack Bailey's e-mail. She told him she accepted with pleasure and it sounded like fun. She offered to pay her share, since they were both poverty-stricken teachers. He e-mailed that it wasn't necessary, as long as she didn't mind dinner at the diner, and told her he'd pick her up on Saturday. It was done. All she had to do now, she realized as she went to tell Harlan, was figure out what to wear.
"A very, very, very short skirt," he answered without hesitation. "With legs like yours, you should only wear miniskirts. I wish I had those legs," he teased her, but what he said was true. She had long, beautiful, graceful legs that drew all attention away from her thicker middle. And he thought she had a pretty face, in a wholesome, blond, all-American way. She was a very decent-looking woman, and an extremely nice one, with a bright, lively, sharp mind and a good sense of humor. What more could a man want? He hoped the date worked out for her. Particularly since he had been happy for the last eight months with John Kelly, thanks to her. They were a perfect combination, and it had become a serious affair. They were starting to talk about moving in together. And they loved taking Victoria out to dinner with them. Harlan had become her best friend in New York, and her only real confidant other than her sister. And he gave excellent advice.
When Jack arrived promptly at seven o'clock on Saturday night, the apartment was empty. All the others were out for the evening, and he walked around the apartment, admiring how pleasant it was, and how spacious.
"Wow, I live in a shoebox compared to you," he said enviously.
"It's rent-controlled. I was lucky, and I live here with three other people. I found it as soon as I moved to New York."
"You really lucked out."
She offered him a glass of wine, and a few minutes later they left for dinner. They took the subway to the diner in the Village, and he said the play was starting at nine o'clock, so they had just enough time for dinner.
She had taken Harlan's advice, and he had checked her over before he went out to meet John. She was wearing a short black skirt, a white T-shirt, and a denim jacket, with high-heeled sandals that showed off her legs. And she looked very pretty. She wore a little makeup and her long blond hair down. Harlan had said it was the perfect outfit for a first date. Sexy, young, simple, and it didn't look like she was trying too hard. He had said solemnly definitely no cleavage on a first date, although she had plenty of it. He told her to save it for later, and she hadn't been planning to show it off anyway. She was happy in the loose T-shirt. And she and Jack chatted constantly on the way downtown. He was fun to be with and had a good sense of humor. He made her laugh at the description of the schools he'd worked in. And it was obvious that he genuinely liked kids. It was equally so that he liked her.
She contemplated the menu with a frown when they got to the diner. She always had a weakness for meat loaf and mashed potatoes, which reminded her of her grandmother's cooking, which had been the best thing about her, but she didn't want to overdo it and eat too much. The fried chicken sounded good too. She finally decided on sliced turkey breast and ordered string beans. And the food was good. She almost burst out laughing when Jack ordered lamb chops and a baked potato. He ate them with a knife and fork. No sign of Tom Jones. She could tell Harlan that he had passed the test. And she hoped that she had too. They shared a piece of homemade apple pie a la mode for dessert. When they finished their meal, he said, "I like a woman who has a healthy appetite," and told her that the last girl he had gone out with was anorexic, and it had driven him crazy. She never ate, and was apparently severely neurotic in other ways. He didn't see anything wrong with Victoria enjoying her food.
They both liked the play, and talked about it all the way back to her place on the subway. It was depressing, but beautifully acted and well written. She'd had a really great evening with him, and she thanked him as they stood outside her building in the warm night air. She didn't invite him to come upstairs at the end of the evening, it was too soon. But it definitely felt like a date to her. Jack looked happy too and said he'd like to go out with her again. She thanked him, and he hugged her, and there was a spring in her step and a smile on her face when she walked into the empty apartment. For a minute she was sorry she hadn't invited him upstairs for a drink, but decided it was better this way. And much to her surprise, he called her the next day.
He said there was an art show downtown that he was going to and wanted to know if she'd like to join him. She did, they met downtown, and had dinner together again. By the time she got back to school on Monday morning, they had had two dates, and she couldn't wait to tell her shrink. It felt like a real victory to her, a huge compliment, and they seemed to be compatible in many ways. They ran into each other in the teachers' lounge at lunchtime, and she appreciated that he was discreet and didn't refer to seeing her on the weekend. She didn't want the whole school knowing that they'd gone out with each other outside school, especially for a proper "date." He was casual and friendly, but nothing more, and then he called her that night to invite her out on Friday for dinner and a movie. She was really excited when she told her roommates about it over dinner in the kitchen.
"It sounds like we have a live one here," Harlan said, grinning at her. "And he passed the lamb chop test. Shit, Victoria, you're in business." She laughed and felt silly, and almost helped herself to a second piece of garlic bread to celebrate. John was a terrific cook, but she stopped herself. She really wanted to lose some weight, and she had good reason to do it now. She had a date!
Their movie date on Friday was as much fun as the other two had been. And they met again on Sunday, for a walk in the park, and he held hands with her as they strolled along. They bought ice cream from a man with a hand truck rolling through the park, but she forced herself to throw it away before she finished. She had lost two pounds that week, and had been doing sit-ups every night in front of the TV. Even her shrink was excited about her budding romance, although Victoria hadn't slept with him yet. He hadn't tried, and she didn't want to do that too soon. She wanted to be sure how she felt about him before she did, and that they had something real between them. She didn't just want sex. She wanted a relationship, and Jack was beginning to seem like the perfect candidate for it, after four dates. They went back to her apartment on Sunday afternoon, and he met Bunny and Harlan, and was very nice to both of them. And they both liked him.
October was the most exciting, hopeful month she'd had in years as she and Jack continued to see each other every weekend, and on the third weekend they went out, he kissed her. They talked about it, and both agreed that they wanted to wait a little while before they took the relationship to another level. They both wanted to be cautious and mature and get to know each other better before they took a major leap. It made her feel safe and comfortable with him, and not pushed beyond her limits. He was respectful of her, and every time they saw each other, they got closer and had a wonderful time. Victoria's shrink fully approved.
Victoria had told him a little about her parents, though not a great deal. She hadn't told him about the tester cake remark, or being named after Queen Victoria, but she did say that they had never praised her, and were critical of her choice of career.
"We have that in common," Jack said to her. "My mother always wanted me to be a doctor, because her father was. My father still wants me to be a lawyer like him. I love being a teacher, and they warn me constantly that I'll never make a decent living or be able to support a wife and kids. But other people do it, and this is what I want to do. When I went to MIT, my father thought I should at least be an engineer."
"My father says the same thing, minus being able to support a wife and kids. I guess no one congratulates anyone for becoming a teacher. It seems like an important job to me. We have a pretty major influence on kids."
"I know. People get paid five million bucks for hitting a baseball out of the park. But educating young people isn't worth a damn thing to anyone, except to us. It's a little sick." They both agreed. They agreed on almost everything. And in early November things were heating up between them. They had been dating for just over a month, seeing each other once or twice a weekend, and Victoria could sense that they were going to sleep with each other soon. They were working up to it. She felt totally at ease with him, and was falling in love. He was a terrific guy, straightforward, honest, intelligent, warm, funny. He was everything she had ever dreamed of in a man, and as Gracie would have said, she thought he was cute. She had told her younger sister all about him, and she was thrilled, although Victoria had said nothing to her parents, and had warned Gracie not to either. She didn't want to deal with their negative comments, or their predictions of doom. It was still inconceivable to them that any man would fall in love with her. But she could tell that Jack thought she was pretty, and the warmth they shared in their relationship made Victoria bloom like a garden in spring. She looked relaxed, more sure of herself, and constantly happy. Dr. Watson was concerned--she didn't want her self-esteem to come from a man, rather than be generated from within. But Jack was certainly helping how she felt about herself. And she had dropped ten pounds, by watching her portions and what she ate. She remembered the nutritionist's warning not to skip meals, and to eat healthy food. This time there were no crash diets, no herbal teas, no purges. She was just happy, and everything else fell into place accordingly. They were both talking about their plans to go home for Thanksgiving, and were considering coming back to New York during the weekend, so they could spend part of the holiday together.