You're Not Pretty Enough by Jennifer Tress Read Free Book Online

down at me, and smiling. He
     started to tell a funny story that I can no longer remember, and I sat there, mute. All that practice down the drain! Cat, noticing my catatonic state, decided he should step in.
    “This is my friend Jen.”
    “Hey, Jen,” he said, smiling warmly and extending his hand to the one that was holding the camera. Instead of simply moving the camera from one hand to the other, I dropped it and shook his outstretched hand with
     my mouth wide open. I didn’t even say hi. He looked at me with an expression that read Am I crazy or does she look like me? and then one of the handlers told us it was time for Jon to move to the other groups, but not before pictures were taken.
    “Anyone want me to take a photo with their camera?” asked the female handler, and I momentarily regained my consciousness to hand her mine.
    We stood up in a group—the concert winners to his
     right and me to his left—and I felt him put his arm around my shoulder. I managed to wrap my arm around his waist and willed my molecules to remember his shape so I could replay it later.
    The handler took some photos with other peoples’ cameras,
     and when she got to mine, she said “Honey, it’s not working.”
    “Huh?”
    “Your camera. It’s not working.”
    “No, did, um, did you try…”
    “Honey, I can’t make it work, sorry,” and then she gave it
     back and began to corral Jon to move to the next group. I looked at him, trying to think of something brilliant to say to make him stop and realize I was not just his female, mute doppelganger.

    Who is who?
    “Don’t worry,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away. “The station can get you a picture.” And then he winked at me and walked on. I
     sat down on the chair again and watched the other groups as they showed off their gregariousness. Stupid talkers! Stupid me!
    Cat patted me on the shoulder in a way that said, “Buck up, kid,” and joined the other DJs. I slumped. When Jon made his way out, that was
     our cue to leave. Cat escorted me to the place I needed to go to get to my seat, and I turned to hug him. We stayed in touch for about a year, and even though I never got that photo, I’ll always think fondly of him.
    When I got to my seat, the opening band was playing—I can’t remember if it was Cinderella or Tesla—and my mom and Margie were there. My mom’s face lit up immediately and then toned down slightly when she
     saw my face.
    “How was it?”
    “It’s over. I met him and he didn’t fall in love me!” I howled.
    “Oh, honey. Why don’t you just…you know…try and enjoy the show?”
    I sat in my seat, disgusted with myself, and cried and cried
     and cried. I didn’t cry at school, but I cried at home. After a couple weeks, I had to move on.
    ***************
    In the early 2000s, some friends convinced me to go to a Bon
     Jovi concert for nostalgia’s sake. I demurred at first, but they told me to get over myself and come with them. Just before the band came on at the sold out area, I wondered, What am I doing here? I still like him. He seems like
     he’s a serious man. He does a lot for charity and is married with kids to his high school sweetheart. He’s hardly ever in the tabloids and has been able to maintain popularity and relevance over the span of nearly thirty years. In fact, I admire him. But really, What am I doing here?
    And then the lights went down, a guitar started playing, and he walked out on stage flashing a perfect smile on that beautiful mug.
    And I was sixteen again.
     

     
COME TOGETHER, RIGHT NOW, OVER WEED
    The summer between my sophomore and junior years of college, I worked at the Automated Teller Machine Processing Office at the bank where my dad was a vice president. This had absolutely zero to do with my major, but Dad
     persuaded me to take it to augment my business acumen even though we both knew I would be bored balancing debit and credit slips from the various branches. It did have one mark in