Page 22 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
Berry points out the window. “Fern!”
And sure enough, just ahead of us on the sidewalk is Fern with her overstuffed backpack riddled with pins and permanent marker doodles.
“Fern!” the twins yell as I roll to a stop beside her.
She stops and turns. For a brief second, a wary cloud hovers above her, brows pinched together and eyes narrowed, but then her expression eases into something familiar when she realizes it’s us. The same even, careful demeanor Bram carries is so present in Fern.
“Hey, Fern,” I say in my friendliest but most noncommittal voice so as not to scare off the teen.*“Where’s your car?”
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, assuming a position I am intimately familiar with. “Dad is waiting on a part to come in for my car and he said I can just walk home. But it’s eight blocks. And not eight small blocks! Plus, I wore my new Doc Martens that I got when he took me back-to-school shopping because it was the student-government interest meeting today and I was going to see— Ugh, never mind.”
“Oh no,” I say, horrified. “Breaking in Doc Martens is a gradual process. Not aneight blocks in one daykind of situation.”
She rolls her eyes again. “Try explaining that to my dad.”
I reach across the passenger seat and open the door. “Well, you’re in luck. Get in! Your feet shall live to see another day. And I can show you a trick to break those in that involves putting them in the freezer.”
“Seriously?” she asks as she slides into the front seat and buckles her seat belt.
I nod. “My brother’s wife’s best friend—wow, that was unnecessarily complicated—swears by this method.”
“You’re so much cooler than my dad,” Fern says.
“Oh, I totally am,” I tell her, and wish Bram could hear me say so. What kind of reaction might that get from him?
(Nope. No thoughts about Bram being super sexy when I’m in a car full of his offspring.)
For a minute, I think about bringing up Nolan and his wife, Bee, just to cement my coolness with the teenage demographic of one in my passenger seat.My brother was in a super-famous boy band and now he’s making movies on the Hope Channel!There’s a certain kind of thrill to it, because for so long no one around me cared about something as unintellectual and tacky as a boy band—Nolan’s fame was actually kind of a liability, and my sister-in-law’s career in sex work was asuperliability—and so I haven’t gotten to play the famous-sibling card in years.
On the other hand, there’s no putting the former-heartthrob toothpaste back in the tube, so maybe it’s better to stay quiet about it for now...
Fern pulls one knee up on her seat and begins furiously texting until we get to the house. The moment I turn off the ignition, she darts out of the car and up the stairs, letting herself in with her own key.
Meanwhile, the twins meander and rummage around the floorboard for things that had spilled out of their backpacks before they slowly make their way inside. While they run to the living room to check on Porcupine, I dig their folders out of their backpacks to leave out on the kitchen table for Bram. Then it’s time for after-school snacks. I pile up some cheese and crackers, and after that, I get to work on my mom’s chocolate chip banana muffin batter.
I am nowhere near as skilled at baking as my mom. But I remember finding such solace inside the little kitchen of our bungalow in our run-down neighborhood. Because if Mom was in the kitchen, she was having a good day.
It was just me and her pretty often, which meant a fair amount fell on my plate when her bipolar disorder was in a tough spot. But honestly, the real hardship was helping her navigate Medicaid and seeing the confused frown from the pharmacy tech when a new medication wasn’t covered, or when an old medication suddenly wasn’t covered, or when a rebate program had been discontinued and everyone forgot to tell us.
Nolan, my brother, took care of us as much as he could, but life changed in a big way when he joined INK.*And then again, when the band fell apart. Nolan is fine now—fantastic, even. When he’s not wearing a top hat for the Hope Channel, he’s got a great gig judgingBand Camp, the reboot of the show where INK came together. He has Mom out with him in LA, and she loves the little cottage he has her set up in. She’s constantly taking pictures of her herb garden and sending them to me. She even has one of those bird feeders with a camera that identifies the birds for you. She’s happy. She’s set. She wants for nothing.
But by the time my brother really got back on his feet, I was about to graduate high school. I didn’t feel like I fell under the umbrella that his newfound financial stability afforded him. I wasn’t a kid anymore. He did help me cover some expenses that my scholarships to Pepperdine didn’t, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling guilty about that.
When I graduated college and took the LSAT at Gentry’s urging, I got into every law school I applied to but didn’t receive a single scholarship. The tuition fees were astronomical. So I took out loans, because Gentry had made it very clear that his future wife needed a JD. It was the formula for creating a political power couple. I told myself that it wasn’t just for Gentry. I really had been interested in going to law school. But left to my own devices, I probably would have chosen one with a cheaper price tag than USC.
Then Gentry told me he was positive his parents would foot the bill for my law degree after we were married. It was all part of the five-year plan. Graduate law school the same month Gentry wins his first primary. He wins against his opponent in November. He proposes at his victory party and we head to the state assembly as soon-to-be newlyweds. Goodbye, loans. Hello, perfect life.
And then three days before my first day of second year, I came home early from staying with my mom. Gentry was already at work, but there was a bra on the floor of the bathroom. One with a too small band and cups way too large to ever fit me.
He swore it was just the one time. That he was drunk. That he only did it because he missed me. He promised it would never happen again and I let myself believe him. Through the rest of law school. Until the minute Penelope Pike broke up with me on his behalf.
Sure, he might have been telling the truth about it only being the one time, but what did it matter in the end? Which was why I showed up here yesterday with an attitude the size of the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals.
While the muffins are in the oven, I go over sight words with Letty and Berry, and I quickly discover that Berry is unexpectedly competitive. (The quiet ones always surprise you.)
In fact, I’m sure my sweet librarian friend, Junie, has some secrets of her own if I could just get a few drinks in her. Too bad I hadn’t metherat the bar my first night in town instead of Bram. I’ve only hooked up with one other woman, but I do like them quiet and mousy. So if she weren’t my sort-of friend, she’d be just my type. And that would have been way less complicated than whatever the fuck is happening with me and Bram.
No, whatever isnothappening. Because yesterday was a onetime slipup. Really, it was just half a slipup. It’s not like either of us came. In the moment, at least.
