She turned and effectively dismissed me as she went back to her lecture, tapping her pen on the SMART Board, refusing to glance my way.
With my shoulders hunched, I snatched up my things and walked up the aisle between the theater-style seating of the classroom to the exit, hanging my head like a dog sent to the corner. My vision suddenly blurry, I made my way out into the damp day. With an hour until I was due at the station, I slumped onto a spot under a tree, the ground cold on my ass as I dug my heels into the soft grass. I tilted my head back against a tree and sat crisscross applesauce, and closed my eyes.
Images of myself as a young girl, pudgy and in pigtails, flashed behind my eyelids. Memories of running through Grandma Cee’s yard with Dad chasing me and calling “you’re it” played on a continuous loop. We’d play until I was exhausted, and then my dad would toss me over his shoulder and carry me into Grandma’s kitchen. She’d put out my very own cookie table—almond biscotti dusted with powdered sugar, ladylocks, mini cheesecakes, chocolate chip cookies, and a glass of milk.
We’d sit and laugh until my mom came and picked me up. Then she’d raise holy hell.
“Cee, you’re making her even fatter! Don’t you see, she’s short and busty like your side?”
My dad would shush her and whisper in my ear, “You’re so beautiful, mi Caterina. Don’t you listen to her.” He’d kiss my cheek and lift me up from the chair to spin me around. “See you next week, baby doll.”
Every time, my mom would grab my hand and waggle it in the air. “Even her fingers are pudgy,” she’d say.
“Glory, stop,” my dad would yell at her.
She’d rush me out of there and my poor dad would always yell, “Kiss Grace and Cedes for me.”
Now as I sucked in the chilly air and breathed out tiny puffs of smoke, I yearned to go back in time. Memories continued to spin in my mind. My mom leaving for a week with a guy named Gus, and then coming back to move us out of my dad’s house. Her poisoning my sisters against my dad, and the way she hated how I wanted to spend time with Dad and Grandma Cee.
My lousy mom went from rich man to rich man, bleeding them of money for Botox and plastic surgery, and maxing out their credit cards. My sister Grace chased married men, and my younger sister, Cedes, made a life out of being clueless. I was the one who was supposed to be smart and successful, the one who was proud of my feminine curves and big brain. The outcast.
Stanwick was right . . . I should be ashamed. I had no right aspiring to be a warrior for feminism when I was nothing better than a hussy, falling for the college athlete who would make tons of cash as a pro.
I tugged at my hair in frustration. Why did I have to repress my desires to be a feminist? Couldn’t I have a career and sexual fantasies at the same time? Were all female CEOs celibate?
I stood up and brushed off my ample backside before I made my way to Starbucks, avoiding Mean Beans and who might be lurking there. I was determined to take a hard look at my life, to stay away from Blane and his allure, and to prove my professor wrong.
But I didn’t know how the hell I would do that. Stanwick was a big powerful surge in the feminist movement while I was barely an electrical volt, but she didn’t get it. Those porn actresses and strippers didn’t have choices like she had, or like my female classmates and I did. No, they were stuck in a no-win situation where they believed opportunities like the Couch and being in front of the camera gave them a semblance of control. At least, that’s what I assumed.
My life sucked. I’d been kicked to the curb by my professor, I was tangled up with both Sonny and Blane, and I was sympathetic to adult video stars. All because of that stupid fucking dare.
My first step in fixing my life was ditching Sonny. I needed the job, but I would find something else. At least, I kept telling myself I would—on repeat in my brain the whole walk to the station.
Sonny was the one who’d gotten me in this whole mess to begin with, and I needed a clean break. If it weren’t for his shitty treatment and imbecilic behavior, I could continue to fetch his coffee and would have had the chance to take over the segments he didn’t want. But Sonny was who he was, and I couldn’t deal with him anymore.
I walked into the station and waited until Sonny had a break, chewing on my thumb the whole time. When I finally had his attention, I dove right in.
“Look, this has been great and I appreciate all you’ve done, but it’s not working. I keep getting sucked into one mess after another here. My professor hates the show, and I’m nothing but a thorn in Blane’s side. You deserve a funnier, sexier replacement, and I need to make my own name for myself. And I never want to call someone Mr. Boots again, Sebastian.”