THE PERFECT LIFE

by Erika Purtell

page 2 of 3

  Carolyn was glad to see that Jasmine and Logan were gone when she woke up. George made breakfast and they ate together quietly. He was oblivious to any anxiety Carolyn was feeling. She said nothing about it. After all, nothing actually happened.
  As he was leaving for work, he held Carolyn to him. “If it weren’t for you, I might still be stuck in a dead end job.” He kissed her. “You make me want to change for the better. I want to do everything better for you.”
  After he left, Carolyn went into the bathroom for a shower. As she waited for the water to heat up, she wondered why George couldn’t want things to be better for his own sake. It was flattering that she was such an inspiration to him, but she felt smothered. Had he been acting like this a lot recently? Is that why she would respond to another man’s advances? As she stepped into the steaming shower, she imagined the water purging her system of the guilt that she felt.
  When she emerged, she felt like a new person. She sprayed herself with Clinique’s Happy, put on a pair of Capri pants and a tee shirt and threw her wet hair into a ponytail. As she applied make-up, she wondered if she looked like Lydia. While they were growing up, people always said they looked alike and she always denied it.
  But after seeing Lydia at her wake, Carolyn saw a resemblance. She sighed. She was being silly.
  She stepped out of the apartment and looked up and down the street. It was a long block and the trees were thick with green foliage. It was a beautiful June day, still cool from last night’s rain. A young couple pushed a baby stroller down the sidewalk. She already loved living here.
  After starting her car, she popped a piece of gum in her mouth and a cassette into the player. It was the Beatle’s “Let it Be,” one of her favorite recordings by the fab four. As she turned onto the highway, she wondered if the Beatles smoked a lot of dope at that point in their careers. She wondered what the appeal was. Does marijuana distort a person’s views on reality? If it did, what type of effect did other drugs have on the brain? If Lydia hadn’t been stoned, would she have glorified the idea of death to the point where she actually killed herself? Carolyn often wished she could understand.
  Maybe it was some urge to push yourself as close to death as you possibly could. She wondered if that might be the reason Logan would risk his relationship with Jasmine last night. Carolyn sighed and pushed that thought out of her head. Whatever feelings drugs induced, she didn’t want to know. Life was confusing enough in a regular state of mind.
  About halfway home, Carolyn pulled into heavy traffic. One of the lanes seemed to be closed. As cars filtered slowly through, Carolyn sang to “Across the Universe.” The cars rolled slowly forward and Carolyn realized there was a car accident just ahead. She could see flares and lights flashing from an ambulance. People in cars ahead of her strained to get a closer look at the wreckage.
  “Dig it” began and Carolyn stopped the music. As she filtered past, she noticed one of the cars had been totaled. It looked like a Porsche or a Ferrari. It was definitely a sports car and it appeared to have hit the road divider. Before she could ponder how many thousands of dollars were reduced to a pile of nothing, she saw blood on the windshield. She strained not to look closer but she had the feeling the driver of the car had died.
  Just then her cell phone rang, and her blood froze. The traffic was free again and she picked up speed while searching her purse for the phone.
“Where are you?” Her mother’s voice was heavy with anxiety.
“I’m still on seventy-six,” Carolyn started, but was cut off.
“You said you’d be here at two, and it’s already a quarter after.”
  “Mom…”
  “Do you think I’m going to keep lunch warming in the stove until three? I could have eaten twice already.”
  “Mom…”
  “I swear, why can’t you call when you’re going to be late?”
  “There was a terrible accident and traffic was backed up,” Carolyn said loudly.
  “What? You were in an accident?”
  “Mom, I’m about five miles away and I drove past an accident. The car was totaled. It slowed me down.”
  “Oh, thank God.”
  “I’ll be there in five minutes, okay?” Carolyn said.
  “Okay,” the phone clicked and she put it away. Her heart was racing and she tried to calm down. She passed a sign that read "Speed Limit 60." Her dashboard read that she was going eighty-five miles an hour.
  A siren caught her attention and flashing lights appeared in her rearview mirror.
  “Shit,” she said and pulled over. The police car parked behind her and a young officer approached. She rolled down the window and smiled sheepishly at him.
  “Do you realize you were going twenty-five miles over the speed limit? Not five, not ten, not even fifteen.” The man was handsome and he cracked his gum.
  “No, officer, I’m sorry. The accident back there must have set me off.”
  The man had a snide tone in his voice, “I will have to fine you for this, you know. License and registration please.”
  Carolyn handed him her driver’s license and rummaged through her glove compartment for the necessary papers. She couldn’t find them.
  “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I think the insurance is packed away.”
  “Driving without insurance?” The officer’s voice was thick sarcasm. He seemed to enjoy himself too much. "That’s an extra fine. Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
  Carolyn’s heart beat heavily and, by habit, she rummaged through her purse for cigarettes. Finding none, she popped a piece of gum in her mouth and chewed furiously. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been speeding if her mother hadn’t sounded so upset with her. Why does she let her mother get her so riled up all the time? Why didn’t she take the back road home? Why did things like this always happen to her?
When the officer returned, he handed her two tickets and told her to try to drive safely. His smile was smug. Carolyn wanted to slap his face. One ticket was for $110 and the other was for $350.
  “I can’t pay this at once,” she said feebly.
  “Take it to the magistrate,” the man said bluntly and returned to his car.
  Carolyn sat for a moment, stunned. She waited for him to drive off, but he didn’t. He flashed his headlights and she took it as a sign to drive. Sure enough, he followed her. She drove for several miles, cautious of the speed limit as the cruiser tailed her. When she put on her turn signal at the Freeport exit, the officer gave a friendly wave and drove off.
  “Yeah, have a nice day,” she muttered as she waved back. “Asshole.” The craving for a cigarette overwhelmed her. She spit her gum out the window and started another one. She turned the music back on.
In no time, she pulled into the familiar circle at the end of the road known as Carousel Court. She parked in front of her mother’s house and noticed that her stepfather’s car was gone. She wondered what he was doing out on a Saturday afternoon. Her mother came out of the house and approached the car. Vivian was a small, nervous woman who always wore her hair perfectly styled. When she got to the car, she scrunched her nose when she heard the Beatles. Carolyn knew that when Vivienne was a teenager, she’d written letters upon letters of fan mail to the Beatles. One day she must have realized they’d never write back.
Carolyn turned the car off and got out. She slammed the door behind her. Vivienne cupped Carolyn’s face. Her nails were recently manicured. “Are you all right?” She said and pecked her daughter’s lips. “You look white as a sheet.”
  “I just got a speeding ticket. Actually I got two tickets, do you believe my luck? I don’t know, I think somebody died and there was all this blood all over this car’s windshield and I just wanted to get here.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”
  Vivienne stared at her for a moment. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Steve will help you out. Let’s get a cup of tea in you.”
  She put her arm around Carolyn’s shoulders and led her inside. Carolyn marveled at how her mother could go from completely neurotic and needy to kind and nurturing in the blink of an eye.
They entered the kitchen together and Carolyn stared up at a huge birthday banner on the wall. There was a large birthday cake and a vase of red roses on the kitchen table.
“Wow, Mom. You didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”
  “Well,” Vivienne said and wrung her thin white hands, “you’re all I have left. I wanted to do something special.”
  Carolyn sat and Vivienne took lasagna out of the oven.
  “I hope this didn’t get dry. I didn’t know you’d be so delayed.”
  “Looks perfect,” Carolyn said.
  As she ate, Vivienne poured them each a cup of hot Earl Grey. Carolyn put milk and honey in hers. They sat in silence as Vivienne watched Carolyn eat. “Enough oregano, dear?”
  “Yes, Mom. It’s amazing.”
  “Parmesan cheese?”
  “No thanks. This is probably a thousand calories, right?” Carolyn laughed.
“Jasmine made pasta last night. I think I’m going to turn into a balloon.”
  “Oh, Jasmine,” Vivienne nodded. “That’s right. How’s the new apartment?”
  “It’s awesome, Mom. I love it. I still have to decorate. I just brought over the last of my stuff from the dorms.”
  “I can’t believe you’re already in your first apartment. You waited for your time to come and you’re doing so well for yourself. I’m so proud of you honey.”
  When the lasagna was finished, Vivienne pulled birthday candles from a drawer and started arranging them on the colorful cake.
  “Oh Mom, I’m stuffed. Can we have cake later? I feel like a cow.”
  “But Carolyn, I made it especially for you. It’ll get stale.” Vivienne crinkled her brow in the way that always made Carolyn feel guilty.
  “When’s Steve getting home?”
  “About an hour, why?”
  “Can’t we wait for him?”
  “Oh, I suppose you’re right. But let me get your present.” Vivienne stood and squeezed Carolyn’s shoulder before disappearing into the living room. Carolyn stared at the lemon yellow painted walls that had always been so familiar. She wondered if her mother would ever give the house a facelift. Maybe change would make her feel better. She handed Carolyn a small gift bag. “I hope you like it,” she said.
  Carolyn took out a framed picture of herself with Lydia as children. They held each other tightly and were dressed in Halloween costumes that Vivienne had made by hand. Carolyn’s costume was an angel and Lydia was dressed up like a witch.
  “This is great. I remember those costumes. We loved them.” Tears stung Carolyn’s nose, but they didn’t make it to her eyes. She held the picture to her chest.
  “Do you like it, honey?” Vivienne whispered. “Do you really?” Her eyes shone in the light and Carolyn hugged her.
  “I love it Mom. I love you too.”
  “Love you more,” Vivienne whispered. “Love you more.”
  Carolyn pushed open the door to Lydia’s old bedroom and stepped inside. Although it had been converted into a sewing room years ago, she was greeted with ghosts from the past. She was never quite prepared for the feelings of nostalgia that swept into her mind when she came into this room. How often did she and Lydia play here when they were growing up? How many times did she wake in the middle of the night to find that Lydia had stolen her kewpie doll while she slept? How often did they fight over that silly red doll?
  How many times did Carolyn boss Lydia around? How many times did she make her little sister cry?
  She opened Lydia’s closet. Most of it was empty except for some quilts that her mother had made by hand. She didn’t know what she was searching for and realized she should probably accept that the room had been cleared of Lydia’s belongings years before she took her life.
  Still, something drew Carolyn to that closet. She felt between the blankets that were stored there and the items of clothing that her mother had sewn. She sighed.
  There was a large box of unused fabric at the bottom of the closet and Carolyn squeezed it out. She noticed a small tear in the carpet and pried it loose with her fingers. As she did, she realized a small piece of floorboard was missing. She stuck her hand down into the darkness. Her finger hooked onto something and she tugged until it came free. As she lifted the unknown object from the hole, her heart pounded with anticipation.
  It was a book, caked with dirt. Her hands shook as she scratched the grime from the cover with her fingernail. It was a diary.
  The book felt slimy as she opened it. The pages were brown on the edges and warped from moisture, but otherwise she could still read the words.

January 1st 1999.
I am lying in my hospital bed and visiting hours are over. I couldn’t believe Carolyn came to see me. I don’t know why she came since she put me here. After all the times we came out onto the roof to watch falling stars, I was never afraid. Now I feel like I’m afraid every minute.

Carolyn flipped a few pages and read more.

April 10th, 1999
Why is Carolyn so mean to me? Today she told Mom I forgot to walk Sparky, so he made a mess on the floor. Carolyn hates Sparky! She told me she was going to take Sparky out and I thought she did, but now Mom’s giving Sparky away. Mom’s taking away my only friend.

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