Lisa was the only one who knew me well enough not to buy into my act at nonchalance, but she also knew I wouldn’t have been very receptive to her input on the matter. I’m sure she figured she’d already said enough on the subject of Trip Wilmington and to tell the truth, I’d have been inclined to agree. It’s not that I harbored any bad vibes toward my best friend, but she was the one responsible for kicking this little birdie out of the nest a tad prematurely. Rather than be there to help pick me up after my fall, she just went on with her perfect life as if the matter was over and done with.
Maybe that’s being a bit too harsh. Nobody has a perfect life and it’s not like Lisa left me completely flat. I’d made it a point to put up the front that nothing was wrong anyway. I guess I just found so many things about her to be jealous about and I was feeling more than a little left behind. After all, she was Miss Popularity. She was the one with the great boyfriend.
She was the one who had a mother.
In addition to Christmas and Valentine’s Day, my mother’s birthday was in January, making winter even more unbearable. Dad, Bruce and I had gotten in the habit of “uncelebrating” the occasion with a pineapple upside-down cake every year. About a week before the actual day, Dad would start compiling the necessary ingredients on the kitchen counter without comment, the shrine of groceries standing sentinel for days until I finally caved and made him his miserable cake. It was an unspoken ritual between the three of us, maybe a downright masochistic one, but one we honored nonetheless. Like the swallows returning to Capistrano every spring, we all knew that my mother’s birthday was rolling around the corner when the cans of Dole found their way back to our kitchen. As if we could forget.
Lisa knew that January was always pretty tough for me. Aside from July, it was the only other time of year when I relied a little heavier than usual on my surrogate mother, a woman who lived three houses down and went by the name of Stephanie DeSanto. Having Lisa off spending every minute with her boyfriend, she was depriving me of my much-needed quality time with her mom. I missed hanging out at the DeSantos’, having Mrs. D say things like, “There are my girls!” whenever Lisa and I came walking through the door.
I hated myself for feeling so selfish about everything, but once Lisa’s virginity status had finally been relegated to the history books, it was as though she and I were officially living on different planets. There she was, relaying this Big News and all I could think about was how it affected me. Thankfully, I shut up about it and she was able to remain unaware of my self-centeredness in regards to her life. I could have done without hearing all the intricate details of their every coupling, however, but maybe I would have felt that way regardless. I’d never really been the kind of girl who was ever comfortable discussing such intimate events in such excruciating detail.
Or maybe it was just that I didn’t have any intimate details to discuss.
I went out on a handful of dates with Cooper, but again, we found ourselves just kind of going through the motions. We were both aware that there wasn’t some storybook, fairytale ending awaiting the two of us and managed to strike a mutual, unspoken agreement about our romantic status. Basically, we liked each other a lot, and since neither one of us was dating anyone else, we decided to kill some time together.
Cooper was a huge help to me over those months, even if he wasn’t completely aware of it at the time. It was comforting to have a friend-a great-looking, charming friend-there to keep me from slipping down into a depressed, winter funk. Just the idea that an awesome guy like Cooper Benedict sought my company was enough to bolster my confidence.
Normally, after work on Friday nights, I’d bring a movie home, he’d come over and we’d stay in to watch it. Sometimes, we’d fool around a little, but only if the movie sucked so badly that it couldn’t hold our attentions.
When I finally figured I’d saved enough money for a car, it was Coop who took me from lot to lot, helping me do my homework and kicking the tires of every used car in the Northern New Jersey area. By the time we narrowed it down to two different front-runners, Dad stepped in to make sure I wasn’t being taken to the cleaners. I felt pretty proud that he’d stamped his approval on both cars, saying that I’d done good and was free to make my own choice between the two.
The first car was a Ford Mustang. It was candy-apple red, which was a little flashy for my taste, but it was also a convertible, which was a major check in the pro column. And each time I slipped behind the wheel, something just felt right. I loved the exhilarating grumble of the engine and the way I felt about myself when I had taken it out for a test drive. It would, however, also have sapped my entire budget, barely leaving me with enough scratch afterwards to buy a tank of gas. Plus, the leather seats had seen better days, the upholstery cracked all over and ripped clean through in a couple spots. I’d definitely have to use my next paycheck to invest in a couple seat covers.