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But that would’ve meant disinviting Lucas, which would have been rude. Besides, Cleo wanted him to come. She would’ve looked at me and said, It’s only one month, it’s no big deal. That would’ve reminded me that she’s had relationships before, for much longer, and it’s not that special for her. She would have given me that smile that made me feel like a foolish child, getting excited over nothing and wanting to celebrate something insignificant.
Oh, well. I suppose it’s nice Lucas is here. He seems to be enjoying himself, his cheeks slightly pink as he drinks the sake. He’s never been much of a drinker, since he’s so conscious about his health, but tonight he’s indulged for some reason.
“I bet you,” Cleo says, leaning over the table and pointing a wobbly finger at him, “were a cute baby.”
“What can I say?” Lucas raises both hands in surrender. “My grandma said so, at least. Besides, all babies are cute.”
“Nup. Not me.” Cleo’s words are slightly slurred. Since she’s smaller than me, she must be even more of a light weight. “I was ugly as a baby.”
“No way. Impossible.”
“Yes.” Cleo nods solemnly. “And as a kid. And as a teenager. You know, I only glowed up recently.” She looks at me. “That’s how I know.”
I blink slowly. “Know what?”
“That looks matter,” Cleo replies. “Remember we talked about this? Everyone wants to pretend there are more important things in the world, but the truth is, it’s all about appearances. Like, you know what me and my friends have started doing?”
“What?” I ask.
“Using anti-aging skin products. And we’re only nineteen! But it’s, like, totally illegal to age these days. Unless you’re a hot man. Then you can age to look like George Clooney or something.”
“I’m sure you’d be beautiful even if you were ninety and wore dentures,” Lucas says.
“Thanks, Luc. You’ll be a hot grandpa in fifty years. A GILF.”
They laugh over that, even though I don’t think it’s particularly funny. I swallow another mouthful of sake.
“But yeah,” Cleo continues. “Now you know my embarrassing secret. I used to be ugly. I even have photos, but I’d totally die before I show you guys.”
“Show us,” Lucas says. “I’m sure you looked cute.”
“No, I will never! You wouldn’t even recognise me. My skin was awful, I was twenty kilos heavier, I had chubby cheeks. You know, the boys at my high school used to make fun of me. Ask me out as a joke, that kind of stuff. Or, when we had group projects, they’d totally ignore my suggestions, as if I were stupid. They would treat my very presence like an irritation. Like the fact that I even existed was infringing on their…on their fucking human rights or something.” She shakes her head and continues, “Then my skin clears up, and I lose some weight, and I stop wearing baggy clothes. Then, when they can see I have boobs, that I have some sort of figure, that’s when they start treating me nicely. They pretend to be gentlemen — they hold the door and actually listen to me when I have something to say. I mean, I know they probably didn’t actually respect me, they were just pretending to be nice to get into my pants, but still. It was night and day.” Cleo’s eyes have gone distant as she stares through the restaurant window.
I stare at her. I never would’ve guessed, not with the way she holds herself now, as if the world has always been at her feet. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.
“Anyway,” Cleo says, clapping her hands together, “I want a hot husband when I’m older, and the only way to do that is to be hot myself. Yeah, I hate the game, but the only way to win is to play it.”
“Can’t we just cancel the game?” Lucas asks.
“Easy to say when you’re gorgeous,” I tell him.
“No, I’m serious.” He straightens up, looking surprisingly business-like despite all the sake he’s drunk. “I’ve seen some discourse online about dismantling beauty standards. What?” he asks when he catches me staring at him.
“I can’t believe you know the word ‘discourse’.” I say.
He scowls. “Dickhead. I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, Mr. Electrical Engineering.” I swing my gaze to Cleo. “You want a hot husband?”
“Duh. Every girl wants a hot husband. Besides, I need to have cute children. That’s, like, the best privilege I could give them.”
I consider that. “What about money? I feel like that’s better.”
“Okay, fine, money’s the best thing you can give your kids, but looks are second.”
“What about athletic ability? Like, you marry a pro tennis player or something, and then he passes those tennis genes to your kids?” Lucas asks.
Cleo tilts her head, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she thinks about it. “Looks are more important,” she concludes.
