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“ ‘Remember,’ ” she continues, reading again, “ ‘becoming popular will take some work. But the payoff is huge. If you follow these steps, soon you’ll be the most popular girl in your school!’ ”
Eva quickly flips open her notebook, clicks her pen, and looks up at me. I make sure my smile is frozen in place.
“I’ve already done some work and made a list of the things we’ll—”
“We’ll?” I interrupt, hearing the plural pronoun that made me nervous.
“I’ll,” she corrects graciously, “I’ll need. Makeup—lip gloss, blush, eye shadow. Good looks. Good grades. Social skills. Manners. Cool clothes. And lastly, AOL Instant Messenger, MSN, MySpace, or whatever.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Are you sure this book is for fourth graders?”
She shrugs. “It’s for whoever needs it. Just listen to this: ‘Remember that first impressions are important, and you’ve got to always present yourself with complete confidence. Don’t ever put yourself down, and don’t let anyone know you’re less than perfect.’ ”
“Wow.”
Eva ignores me and keeps reading. “ ‘Gain the trust of your new friends by being nice to them, and once you’re a better friend, you can show a tiny bit of your bitch. Not for long. Just a second. Because you never, ever, show anyone how bitchy you can be. All you want to do is hint at it.’ ”
I shift on the couch. “Why? Why be a bitch? Why play these games?”
She sighs and looks at me over the top of her book. “Are you being negative?”
“I just don’t agree with being bitchy. I don’t think people have to be mean to get ahead.”
“But you do, Mom. Look at us. We’re nice, and we’re nobodies.”
“I’m not a nobody!”
Eva sighs again, a long, drawn-out sigh. “I thought we were going to go through this together.”
I glance down at the page and see what’s coming: more ridiculous stuff about bitch power. But what do I do? Tell Eva I don’t care, I’m not interested? And if I shut her out, who will listen to her then? “Okay, let’s keep reading.”
Eva sits taller. “Your turn to read.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t. Instead I start to read:
1. Be a bitch.
2. Don’t be above sabotage.
3. Have a backup plan.
4. Sneaky is good.
5. Consolidate your power.
6. Execute revenge in secret.
7. Be clever.
8. Keep others off balance.
9. Stay sexy.
10. And most important, remember that being the girl that rules the school is the best. It’s fun!
I stop reading and look at Eva, who has been listening closely. “Eva, you can’t really like this, can you?”
She shrugs. “It sounds a lot like Mean Girls.”
“And the mean girls in the movie Mean Girls were really horrible.” I close the book and hand it back to her. “Why would you want to be horrible?”
“I don’t want to be horrible.”
“So why this book? Why all the notes? It’s not teaching you anything you can use.”
She’s already shaking her head. “But it is. It’s teaching me things I have to know.”
“Like what? Black is slimming? Wear brooches and scarves to accessorize? Carry a designer purse and get a MySpace account?”
“But that’s important,” she answers. “I need to know everything. I need to know how women think.”
“Why?”
“Well, how am I going to help you if I don’t know how women think?”
“Help me?”
“Yes. Help you. Why else do you think I’m doing all this?”
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” I scramble off the couch and pace up and down the floor before turning to face her. “All this stuff, all those notes in your notebook—”
“I knew you’d looked,” she says under her breath.
I shake my head. “It’s for me?”
“Why are you so surprised?”
“I thought you were the one who wanted to be popular, Eva. I thought this was for you. The slumber party. The cool purse. The lip gloss.”
“If I have to be popular to make you friends, then I will.”
“What?”
“Mom, face it. You’re in trouble. You need help.”
“I’m not in trouble.”
Eva rolls her eyes and begins ticking off each finger. “You don’t have any friends. You don’t go on dates. You don’t go to dinner. You never dress up. You don’t even drive a nice car.”
“My truck is beautiful!”
“It’s not what popular moms drive.”
“But popularity is for little girls, not mothers.”
Eva’s shaking her head hard. “I’ve read this book, Mom. Everything I thought, everything I suspected, is true. Being popular makes your life easier. When you’re popular, you get invited places. When you’re popular, people ask you out. When you’re popular, you’re never lonely.”
“Well, that’s a bunch of baloney! Popularity might mean you’re invited to lots of parties and have boys who want to date you, but what if these so-called popular people aren’t people you enjoy? What if their interests aren’t your interests? What if being around people like that makes you feel lonelier?”
“That wouldn’t happen.”
I collapse into a chair facing the couch and lean forward, feeling utterly useless. “What makes you such an authority on everything, Eva? What makes you so sure you know everything—and don’t mention the book. Don’t use this book as a resource because it’s wrong. It’s hurtful. And it’s unkind.”
“Mom, you’re taking this the wrong way. You have to be positive. You have to think positive. These tips might sound dumb to you, but they’re to help you take charge—”
“I have taken charge.”
“So why don’t you ever go anywhere? Why don’t you date? Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Because I don’t want one!”
“Why? That’s not normal. You’re not being normal.”
I’d pull my hair out, but then I’d look like Eva and we’d both hate that. “Eva, being single is a choice I made years ago. No one forced me to be single. No on
e is making me not date.”
“But you don’t even know any men. You couldn’t even go out if you wanted to.”
“That’s so not true. I have had a date. I went out last month, the night you stayed at Grandma and Grandpa’s.” I see her jaw drop, and I take advantage of her stunned silence to plunge on. “He called me earlier this week. We even had lunch. We might go out this weekend.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
“What’s his name?”
“Luke.”
She wrinkles her nose. “You’re making that up.”
Does my daughter think I’m that weird? That I’d actually make a man up just to humor her? “His name is Luke Flynn, he’s a Big Brother to a boy at your school, his parents are farmers, and he went to Harvard.”
She folds her arms across her bony chest. “So call him.”
“What?”
“Call him. Right now. I want to hear this for myself.”
“Why is this so important to you? Why do I have to have a man?”
She looks at me perplexed. “Grandma has Grandpa. Shey has John. But you’re not married. You don’t have anyone.”
Our conversation ends there.
Later that night, I think of all the things I should have said earlier. I should have told Eva that marriage isn’t a tonic or panacea. I should have said getting married isn’t like waving a magic wand. Problems don’t go away. Sometimes problems are just beginning. But I’m not married, so why would she listen to me?
And then there’s the fact that she’s still just a child, as well as a devotee of Modern Bride and Southern Living, and in her mind, marriage resembles Cinderella’s Castle at Disneyland. You go there and it’s beautiful. Romantic. With fireworks exploding above the castle towers and spires every night.
What good would it do to burst her girlish bubbles and dreams? Just because I’ve chosen to go the single life doesn’t mean I’d want her to.
In fact, I’m not even sure I want the single life anymore, but I’m not yet ready to really put my heart out there, either.
In the meantime, I tuck Eva in, kiss her good night, and head to my room. As I climb into bed, my thoughts turn from Eva to Luke, to my parents, and back to Eva again.
