The Do-Over

by Sharon M. Peterson

Mimi plopped in a seat and propped her feet on the chair next to her. Using a cup of ice water on the table, she dabbled drops on her chest. “Hotter than hell in July in this place, doncha think?”

Besides,” she winked at Nate, “our guest might be family someday. Young man, you do look like you work out.” She reached for his arm and Nate obligingly flexed it. “Oh, my.” “You like that? I got another one right here,” he said with a grin and flexed his other arm, the one right next to me. “Perci, give that a feel,” Mimi said. I hesitated, unsure where feeling up my fake boyfriend fell on the list of acceptable actions when on a fake date. Nate nudged my shoulder. “Go ahead. I don’t bite.” So, I did. He was solid, lean but muscly and warm under his t-shirt. All those hours doing construction-y things in the hot Texas sun, getting all hot and sweaty… “Nice,” I said, much too loud, and snatched my hand away.

“All a woman needs is a man who treats her like an angel and kisses like the Devil.” —MIMI

On my list of Things I Did Not Want to Do on a Saturday morning, wedding dress shopping with Momzilla-of-the-Bride was number one. But as I was now avoiding Nate for the rest of my natural life, this seemed like a solid choice. Although it put me right in the crosshairs of my mother. It was a lose-lose situation all around. “Persephone, what in heavens are you wearing?” my mother demanded as soon as I arrived. With a frown, I glanced down at the bright yellow peasant top and light-wash jeans. “Clothes?” Scowling, Mom patted her pale pink blouse, certainly raw silk. “It’s not really appropriate attire for wedding dress shopping.” “There’s a dress code for wedding dress shopping? I might have to elope.”

When Phee arrived, I took in her full face of make-up, carefully styled hair, pale pink tailored suit, and spiky matching heels. She resembled Newscaster Barbie à la 1986, and I didn’t mean that in a good way. “Wow. That’s… an outfit,” I said. Phee glanced down at herself. “Joel picked it out. He said it was a classic.” I stared. “Is it bad?” Her fingers fussed with a strand of pearls at her neck. Pearls! Was she a sixty-five-year-old grandmother? Actually, Mimi would die before wearing pearls.

“You girls don’t have time to plan something like this,” Mom said, but her eyes gleamed. “Phoebe, you have a wedding coming up, and you’re busy with work. And Persephone…” My mother, sister, and Sandra all turned to stare at me. “Well, you have your life.” And a fish and a fake boyfriend, thank you very much.

Phone to his ear, his gaze traveled the room before landing on me. I was acutely aware of my zebra-striped pajamas (thank you, Mimi), zero make-up, and messy nest of hair, while he radiated the cool carelessness of James-freaking-Dean in jeans and a white t-shirt. Did I even have a bra on?

“Is there anything else I need to know? Has she eaten dinner?” “Yeah. A small snack is fine. Nothing to drink after 7:30.” “Is she a gremlin?” He bit back a smile.

He put his hands on my shoulders and I ignored the shock that buzzed through me. “You are an angel for watching her. I could kiss you.” “Yes, please. I wouldn’t mind at all.” I realized my mistake in an instant. I hadn’t thought that; I’d said it. Out. Loud. My face went nuclear, and I was pretty sure I was one step away from disintegrating into a pile of burnt ashes and embarrassment.

At his door, Nate hesitated, his keys jangling in his hand. “You look nice, by the way.” I pushed my shoulders back and channeled Mimi. I strutted—oh, yes, I did—down the hallway, watching Nate watch me. I was freaking New Perci. His smile widened; I put an extra swing in my hips. By some miracle, I made it down the hallway perfectly. No hesitation, no falling, no twisting an ankle, no bumping a table with my hip and knocking over an urn that held the ashes of my boyfriend’s grandmother and thereby ruining any chance of making a good first impression on his parents. That last thing had only happened once. So far.

“No need to thank me for the truth,” he said and winked. I stumbled and pitched forward. With an unladylike “Oomph,” I fell against the doorframe. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I righted myself and prayed Nate had not witnessed that. But when I peeked around the door and down the hallway, there he was, looking cool and calm and so dang untouchable, a knowing little hitch at the corner of his mouth. Plastering on a smile, I waved. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m good.” “See you later, Perci,” he said. “You too, neighbor. Good seeing ya. We should do this more often. You know, talking in the hallway, and stuff. You have a good one, buddy.” This time, I was sure I heard him laugh as I hurried inside my apartment.

For example, I was in no way distracted when he answered his door shirtless one evening. My eyes managed to remain firmly planted on his face the entire time. Nope. I was completely friend-like. So what if I might have had a dream about him one time, or four? And maybe one of them involved a steamy kiss and a declaration of love in the middle of a rainstorm while he was wearing a hard hat and a tool belt. But it wasn’t like I stared at him a little too long when he dropped off Lilah that Wednesday night. I played it all totally cool.

While I waited the fifteen minutes before washing it off, I called Mathias, who was trapped in North Dakota. “The most exciting thing we’ve done is drive two hours to take photos the client’s mother insisted on.” “What was two hours away?” “A twenty-six-foot-tall buffalo statue.” “Well, you wouldn’t see that in Texas.” “And thank God for that,” he said with feeling.

“Jeans or a skirt?” I asked Mathias as I stared into my closet. “What says this-might-be-a-date-but-I’m-not-sure-and-don’t-want-to-look-like-I’m-trying-too-hard?” “Go with jeans.” “Right. Jeans.” “Do you have any shirts without kittens on them?” “Ha. Ha. Yes.” I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder and pawed through my closet. I did have a lot of kitten t-shirts, now that I paid attention. “Here’s one. It’s blue with little yellow flowers on it. How’s that?” “Probably tragic, but it will do.” “Your faith in me is overwhelming.”

“A Southern mama is no different than any other mama. She’s just more polite when she lays on the guilt.” —MIMI

His smiled turned wicked. Now that smile would make me do a whole lot of other things. He glanced toward Lilah and, satisfied she wasn’t looking, he kissed me right there. Long enough, my knees turned to noodles and I had to clutch his shirt, even after we parted. “You should thank me more often,” I said. Behind him, I caught sight of Lilah dragging Phee by the hand toward us. “Here they come. Look casual.” “My, my,” Phee smirked. “I was worried you two got lost.” “They didn’t get lost,” Lilah said matter-of-factly. “They were kissing.” “No, we weren’t,” Nate said. “Of course not,” I said at the same time. Phee laughed. “Is that so?” “They kiss all the time. They think I don’t see but they aren’t very good at sneaking, so I just pretend I don’t know.” Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “Can we just keep pretending? Please?” “Sure.”

Lilah froze. “It’s him. It’s really him. He’s beautiful. Daddy, isn’t he beautiful?” At the center of the tent stood an older man with a noticeable paunch and an oversized handlebar mustache. He was dressed head to toe in khaki. A brightly colored bird perched on his arm. Nate cleared his throat, probably to hide a laugh. “Do you mean the bird or Duke?” “Both,” Lilah said, her eyes wide with excitement. She grabbed Nate’s arm and pulled him toward the object of her affection. “Let’s go.” “I thought I could steal Perci away for a little,” Phee said. “Daddy, hurry up!” Nate waved us off. “Take your time. Something tells me we’re going to be occupied for a while.”

Mimi was making potato salad and humming along with Patsy Cline when I arrived. She took one look at me and frowned. “What’s wrong with you? You look like a vegetarian bear at a barbecue.” That was a new one.

Mimi handed me a glass, and I caught a whiff of cigarette smoke on her clothes. “You promised you’d quit smoking.” “I’m only smoking a little now.” “That’s like being a little pregnant.” “Don’t you worry about old Mimi. I’m indestructible.” “So was the Titanic. And Rome. And Crystal Pepsi. You can’t be the Crystal Pepsi of grandmothers. I need you.”

“The real measure of a man is not when he does something right, it’s how he reacts when he screws something up.” —MIMI

Pericles the Demon Dog bore his bottomless death eyes into the back of my head as I stacked fancy clear plastic plates in my parents’ kitchen. It was the day of the anniversary party and I’d been here all morning making preparations. “Stop looking at me.” I glared at him. “I’m not afraid of you.” The dog regarded me for a long moment before letting out one sharp, ominous yip. I startled, pressing a hand to my heart. “Nope, not scared of you at all.” “Are you talking to the dog again?” Phee asked, hovering by the doorway. “Is there a dog in here? I’d hardly noticed.” Take that, Scary Perry.

“Never trust a man if his teeth are too white, or he’s got two first names, or he says, ‘Trust me.’” —MIMI

“Phee, Joel Allen is stupid and fake. You shouldn’t marry him. If you marry him, I’m going to give away all four of my kidneys just so I don’t have to see him at Christmas. Do you want that on your conscience?” Phee crouched beside me, eyes wide and panicked. “Please. Go inside.” I did not go inside.

“Plus, sometimes a fight can be the best thing for a relationship. Gets the truth out in the open.” That had happened, although why the truth always had to feel so hard to hear was beyond me. “I guess.” She returned to her computer screen, where she began the familiar hunt-peck-hunt-peck. As I shuffled down the hallway toward Dad’s office, I heard her say, “Though most people like to fight in private and usually not with meatballs.”

Lilah bounded into my apartment a little after six, Nate trailing behind her. “Perci! Perci! Guess what?” She held up a baggie containing a tiny chip of white. “I lost another tooth.” “Don’t forget to put it under your pillow.” She rolled her eyes and stuffed the bag in her pocket. “Of course. Else the tooth fairy can’t find it and I won’t get”—she side-eyed Nate—“the newest book in the Wonders of the World series.” “When I was a kid, we got a dollar,” Nate said. Lilah stuck out a hip and put her fist on it. “That was in the old-time days.”

“Hi,” I breathed against him. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re my favorite.” “I thought wildflowers were your favorite.” I tipped my head back. “They’re my favorite because they’re from you.” I think Sal even rolled his eyes at all the cheesiness, and I didn’t care.

Mathias tried his best to tempt me to leave my apartment. Mathias: Get dressed and I’ll buy you a milkshake. Me: Don’t try to bribe me with ice cream. Mathias: Now I know you really are in a dark place. That usually works.

Pericles had seemed a little less demon-like. But I guess once a dog licks condiments off your arm, you might concede to a lifelong truce.

“Why do you have a black eye?” I asked. Mathias’s smiled widened. “I got in a fight.” “What?” I shook my head. “Wait. First, what is going on here? I thought the plan was to get over Phee, not get under her.” I gestured toward my sister with a hand. Phee’s cheeks brightened to red. Mathias grinned. “We’ve been… talking.” I gave him a very pointed look. “Is that what the kids are calling it?” “And stuff. We’ve been talking and stuff.”

On a list of People Who Looked Smoking Hot Tonight, I was at least in the top five.

Dinner wasn’t served until close to 9:30 p.m., and the dancing started after. I watched as our table slowly paired off and hit the floor. Mimi found an older gentleman resplendent in a bright red tuxedo and claimed him for her own. Even Bria found a partner in a short, thin man who might be scared to death or having the time of his life dancing with her.