Testimony from Your Perfect Girl Read online

  I give a thumbs-up, then answer a call from Nicole.

  “Hey,” I say. “I’m exercising. Kind of.”

  “Cool,” she says. “But you don’t sound out of breath.”

  I start to pant until she tells me to cut it out. “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Not much,” she says. “Skip’s looking at motorcycles on his laptop. I wish he’d read a book. Learn about stocks or something.”

  She stops talking, and I hear water trickling. “Oh my god, are you peeing?”

  “Sorry,” she says, and then I hear a flush. “So you’re sure Ash’s parents are okay with you staying until Sunday?”

  “Yeah, I told you.”

  “Remember tonight’s a school night.”

  “I know, I—”

  “And tomorrow night, don’t go crazy or anything. Don’t drink and drive, and don’t just leap into things. You don’t want boys to recognize you from the back of your head.”

  “Jeez,” I say. “You should really write a book of advice for teens.”

  “Oh my god!” she says.

  “What?” I’m almost to the car, and I stop walking. “Are you okay? Nicole?”

  I hear a door close. “I’m here,” she says.

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispers. “When you heard me peeing, I was peeing on a test.”

  My throat sort of constricts. “And?”

  “And it’s positive. And my boobs hurt so I thought maybe, but sometimes they hurt before my period so I didn’t know if it was just that or—”

  “It’s positive,” I say, trying to calm her.

  “Yes,” she says. “Yes.”

  I imagine her in the bathroom holding the test, maybe looking at her reflection as if she’s now someone slightly changed, a translation. Our family, ever changing. I close my eyes, relishing this feeling of being so happy for something that doesn’t have to do with me.

  I stop walking in the field and watch the descending sun. “Go tell Skip that you want to see what’s in the shed,” I say.

  “Why?” she says. “That sounds creepy.”

  “It’s not,” I say. “It’s good. Say you’re ready. Tell him I told you to ask. Trust me.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  My eyes water. I wish Brose was here. “I’m going to let you go now. Promise me you’ll ask him.”

  “Okay,” she says. “Bye.”

  “Bye,” I say, my voice breaking.

  I continue to walk, because I’m too excited to stay still. I have a huge smile on my face, imagining them walking toward the shed, Skip about to reveal the gift he made with his own hands. I’m witnessing the beginnings of a mother and father.

  I’m about to call Brose, needing to share the news, but realize it’s Jay I need to call, who I want to call.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Nicole just took a test, and it’s positive,” I blurt out. “And I told her to have Skip show her the shed.”

  “Cool,” Jay says, and I hear the smile in his voice. “So they’re walking out there now?”

  “I think so. I’m at school.”

  “How’s it going?” he asks.

  “Good,” I say. “Really good. You?”

  “Same,” he says. “Really good.” I hear the hesitation and recognize it. The “good” is surprising to both of us, accompanied by a feeling of guilt. We are good. We’re going to be okay.

  “You think they’re looking at it now?” he asks.

  I look to the mountains. “I wish I was there!”

  “She’s sobbing, I bet,” he says, matter-of-fact, and I start to tear up.

  “I bet they’re just holding each other,” I say.

  “But then she’ll stop, pretend it’s not a big deal.”

  “That it probably won’t work,” I say.

  He laughs. “Skip will just grin,” Jay says. “That dumb smile that takes up his whole face.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “He’s so proud of that crib. She better be nice about it.”

  I can see them so clearly in that sweet yard. The air a little colder, the sky a little darker. I can see Jay in Oregon. My parents, my baby brother. Maybe they’re okay, too. I guess when you have no choice, you just have to be. You design your family with what you have. It’s sort of like making your own clothes—you have some materials, then you create a pattern and make it fit, adjusting, altering, sometimes cutting and throwing away. In the end it will come together, perfectly imperfect.

  “Thanks for calling,” Jay says.

  “Of course.”

  I want so badly to tell my brother that I love him. I miss him. I never will, but he’ll always know. I stay on the phone, as if it’s connecting us, all of us, and even though I’m alone at this moment, I feel held.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, thank you to Kim Witherspoon and David Forrer—how I love having you on my side—and thank you to Ari Lewin for your guidance. Jim Burke, producer and friend extraordinaire: thank you for encouraging me to write a screenplay. I tried, stopped, and then turned it into this book.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kaui Hart Hemmings is the author of the New York Times bestselling novel The Descendants, which has been published in twenty-two countries and is an Oscar-winning film directed by Alexander Payne and starring George Clooney. Her novel, The Possibilities, has been optioned by Jason Reitman and FOX Searchlight and is an Oprah and People Magazine "must read." She has also authored the novel, How to Party with an Infant, the young adult novel, Juniors, and a story collection, House of Thieves.

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