Charmed Thirds_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [120]
“What happened?” she asked.
“You really don't want to know,” I said.
“I do!” she cried. “I really do!”
“You only think you do,” I said.
She took my hand and led me to the couch of ill repute. I let go and opted for the ottoman.
“We don't talk anymore, Jessie,” she said. “I want to hear what happened.”
I sighed. “He got back together with his ex-girlfriend,” I said. “Only he did so without the courtesy of breaking up with me before he did it.”
“He cheated on you!?”
“Yeah,” I said with a flat detachment that I was surprised to hear coming out of my mouth. Telling my mother about Kieran's indiscretion somehow made it unimportant.
She reached over and clutched me to her silken bosom. “My poor baby!”
It was all very dramatic.
Remember that spa gift certificate my mom got me last Christmas? After my mother released me from her clutches, she got on the phone to redeem it as soon as possible. You know, because nothing is better for heartache than a deep pore-cleansing facial.
“Good news!” my mom chirped. “A bride called off her wedding!”
“Uh . . . hooray?”
“I know!” my mom cheered, oblivious to my sarcasm. “She had to cancel the day of beauty for her bridal party, so there was a wide-open block of services available for all three of us tomorrow! A Darling Day of Pampering!”
“Whee.”
I wasn't entirely enthusiastic about the idea. I don't have anything against pampering per se, it was just the principle of the thing. I couldn't help but think of how much more useful that money would be to me next semester. I'm not sure how much my fellow homeless will appreciate my glowing complexion when we're scavenging for moldy pizza crusts out of a Dumpster.
But truth be told, the day started off pretty swell. The Ahhhh . . . Spa was located on a pristine stretch of beach in Oceanhead, the most chichi town on the Jersey Shore. The whole place was all feng shuied to promote a sense of relaxation and rejuvenation. Natural light filtered through floor-to-ceiling art glass windows. Towering columns were sheathed in translucent fabrics that danced in the gentle ocean breeze. A cascading riverstone waterfall gurgled like a newborn babe. The air was spiked with citrus and mint, but not overpoweringly so, as if this was what we were always meant to respirate.
Bethany and Mom were less awed than I was, because they have made numerous sojourns to day spas. As a spa virgin, I was easily impressed. And intimidated. Because as we entered the changing room, I quickly discovered that the rules of the outside world did not apply. And I realized this because my mother and Bethany did not hesitate to get totally naked in front of me, which sort of freaked me out, and not just because seeing my mom au naturel reminded me of the last (and only) time I'd seen her in that state, which was when she and my dad were doing the dirty-bird special on the couch.
Ack.
Look, I am not a prude. I have undressed and dressed in front of total strangers in the locker room at Columbia countless times with little thought. There's anonymity in numbers. (Though it was a bit awkward when I bumped into one of my teaching assistants coming out of the shower and I saw that her hotly debated rack was indeed of the saline variety, and that she'd waxed her pubes into a star shape, which reminded me of the creative topiary at the gates of Disneyland. You know, plants unnaturally pruned until they look like Mickey Mouse and the like. From that point on, whenever I saw that TA, I could only think “Tits/Ass.”) But something about seeing my mom and my sister naked was just weird and I wanted it to end quickly.
I was still standing there fully clothed while my mother and Bethany were stripped down to skin. And I figured, Okay, it will be over soon. They'll put their robes on and I won't have to aggressively avert my eyes so I can't see that my sister has nipples that look like pink Good & Plenties. (Probably from all the breast feeding.)