Thank god I hadn’t gone for the floor-length gown his mother had tried to squeeze me into. Calf length would be tricky enough what with all the tulle underskirts. I hitched them up, clambering onto the hip-high bin without too much trouble. It wobbled like a bitch as I climbed to my feet. A scarily high-pitched noise escaped me. I grabbed hold of the rough wooden fence, hanging on so tight my knuckles turned white.
Normally, I wasn’t much for prayer. Surely, however, the Big Guy wouldn’t let me take a tumble and break my ass. Not today. If he really and truly felt the need to smite me some more, it could wait. Today I’d suffered enough.
Nice deep breaths, standing tall and steady. I could do this. In the yard behind my and Chris’s overdone mini-mansion sat a small silent house.
Perfect.
French manicure already scratched to shit, I lifted myself up, wiggling and squirming until my hips sat high enough for me to get a leg over. The pressure that position put on my crotch was not pretty. I swear I could hear my labia screaming, let alone the rest of my girl bits. And what with me hoping to still be a mother one day, I needed to move … pronto. Wooden palings dug painfully deep into my belly as I lay down, balancing my torso atop the fence. Beads of sweat dribbled down the sides of my face, probably carving out canyons in the inch-thick makeup (artist recommended by Chris’s mom).
“Aunt Lydia?” asked a small high voice. “What are you doing?”
I squeaked in surprise. Luckily, there just wasn’t enough air in my lungs for an all-out actual scream. Down below stood a little girl, her big brown eyes inquisitive.
“Mary. Hi.” I smiled brightly. “You surprised me.”
“Why are you climbing the fence?” She swished the skirt of her white satin flower girl dress this way and that.
“Ah, well…”
“Are you playing a game?”
“Um…”
“Can I play too?”
“Yes!” I gave her a twitchy grin. “Yes, I’m playing a game of hide-and-seek with your uncle Chris.”
Her face lit up.
“But no. No, you can’t play. Sorry.”
Her face fell. “Why not?”
This was the problem with small children, so many questions.
“Because it’s a surprise,” I said. “A really big surprise.”
“Uncle Chris doesn’t know you’re playing?”
“No, he doesn’t. So you have to promise not to tell anyone that you saw me back here. Okay?”
“But how will he know to come find you?”
“Good point. But your uncle Chris is a smart guy. He’ll figure it out in no time.” Especially since I’d left my phone behind with that evil porno still playing. Damn hard to feel bad about outing him, given the situation. “So you can’t tell anyone you saw me, okay?”
For a long moment Mary pondered her already scuffed satin slippers. Her mother would not be impressed. “I don’t like it when my brother tells on my hiding places.”
“No. It’s annoying, isn’t it?” I felt my leg slipping and muttered an F-bomb, which I thought was under my breath.
Pink lips formed a perfect O. “You shouldn’t use that word! Momma said it’s naughty.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” I hastily agreed. “It’s a bad word and I apologize.”
She let out a little sigh of relief. “That’s all right. Momma says you weren’t raised right and we have to make all … allow … allowan…” Little brows drew together in frustration.
“Allowances?”
“Yes.” She grinned. “Did you really grow up in a barn? I think living in a barn would be fun.”
This. This is what comes from letting stuck-up rich bitches influence the young. Chris’s sister was a prime candidate for stick-up-the-ass removal. His whole damn family was, for that matter.
“No, honey,” I said. “I didn’t. But I bet your momma would feel right at home among cows.”
“Moo.” She laughed merrily.
“Exactly. You better head back now. And remember, don’t tell anyone you saw me.” I gave her a finger wave, trying to wriggle into a more comfortable position without toppling off the precipice. As if that were possible.
“Promise! Bye!”
“Bye.”
The kid took off racing through the garden, soon disappearing from sight. Now to get the hell down off the fence. Whatever way I played it, pain was sure to follow. Fact. I stretched and strained, my thigh and calf muscles screaming in protest. If only I’d gone with Chris to the gym all those times he’d suggested. Too late now. Slowly, knee first, one leg, then the other went up and over. Splinters caught at my dress, threads pulling and silk ripping. I slid down the opposite side of the fence, dangling in midair for one excruciating moment while the rough wood tore my hands to pieces and my muscles stretched beyond endurance. Then gravity kicked in.
I hit the ground hard. It hurt.
So much for being plus-size. My extra padding hadn’t cushioned a damn thing. I rolled onto my back and lay in the long grass, wheezing like a pack-a-day smoker. Pain filled my world. Maybe I’d just die here. It was as nice a place as any.
“Lydia, are you out here?” a voice called. Betsy, the receptionist from the real estate agency. “Liddy?”