Mormons

It's late and I should really go to bed. Lilly and I spent 3 hours tonight shopping for a homecoming dress. It's really hard to find a dress in this town. There are only about 6 stores that carry dresses. Lilly got invited at the last minute by her friend, Milton Hollingsford, otherwise known as Hollingsford. For years I didn't know his first name. Hollingsford is the youngest son in a big Mormon family here in town. Apparently all the boys are called by their last names by their friends, so when you call the house, according to Lilly, it can get confusing.
Hollingsford is in love with another girl, Lilly told me. "Why don't you go with the girl you really like?" she asked him. "Don't be an idiot, Hollingsford. Take the girl you like."
He got pissy. "It's complicated, Lilly. Just be my friend and go with me, okay?"
Whatever. Hollingsford just left St. Xavier's to go to public school this year, and has done nothing but hang out at St. Xavier's. We don't think he likes his new school very much.
He used to be sort of dorky--the kind of kid who would show up at parties and spend all his time in the kitchen talking to me--not that I mind that--but then he learned how to play base, grew six inches, got his braces off, and took care of his acne. From my ancient perspective, I would say that Hollingsford now qualifies as Very Handsome.
"Oh, yuck, gross." Lilly says, when I mention this to her. "He's mormon."
I don't really see what this has to do with anything. All religious systems are equally insane. So what if he's mormon. He can still be handsome. I tell her so.
"Oh, I don't know," she says in this new petulant tone she's developed this fall. "They're all so toothy and do-right."
Okay, toothy and do-right was a big turn-off to me at sixteen. At forty-one it's interesting. I know there's a lot of buzz about the religion, but honestly, I like every mormon I've ever met. Good family values. Nice. Easy to talk to. They all seem emotionally stable.
One of our residents is mormon. One morning he said, out of the blue, "I've been thinking about you, Haley. What you need is a nice husband. Your life would be a lot easier if you were married. You're such a nice person. You should get married."
"Why, that's a great idea!" I said brightly. "I never thought of that. I'll start looking right this minute."
"Come to my church. We'll get you married off." He said.
I bet.
But you know, it kind of hit me in a soft spot. I know he was being kind. I didn't have the heart to tell him about the zen.
In the world, I'm mostly even and friendly. I'm sort of nondescript, too, but I'm pretty and clean with shiny, honey-colored hair and short clean nails. At first glance I do seem like I would be a great wife. I'm funny, and I listen really well, and I'm generally pretty good at smoothing over conflicts.
But anyone who knows me for awhile eventually realizes that I'm all twisted and lonely and tortured, etc. I'm Virginia Wolf without the talent, and too self-centered to ever put rocks in my pockets and float out from shore. Or...sink. Who will ever get close to this voluntarily? Not a soul.
It's okay. It is what it is. I do what I can. I try to make myself my own partner. I wish I'd pick up my god damn socks. I look at myself in the mirror. No sags or bags. No wrinkles. But some fine lines, all the sudden. Like the ghost of a web around my eyes. It'll go, the prettiness, eventually. It has too, right? And then I won't have any cover. Scary.
That's my 1/2 hour. I'm going to smear renova all over my face now.