At 8:45, my cold, congealed food looked like it had come from an all-you-can-eat buffet past its prime. The Wallingfield kitchen would have gotten the portions right. I’d be done by now. At least the meals were timed there. At home we were on our own.
I took one more small bite of potato. “Do you think this is enough?”
“Honey, I’m sorry, but the agreement was that you’d eat everything on your plate.” I could tell Dad wanted to end this as much as I did.
“But the portion sizes are huge! They’re twice what we got at Wallingfield! I ate everything I would have there! I swear it!”
“You can’t leave this table until you have eaten your whole meal. You signed a contract.” Mom looked pained.
I stared at my plate. You have a choice. Mary’s voice pinged through my head. No one gains weight from a single meal.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay what?” Mom and Dad looked at me at the same time.
“Okay. I’ll try.”
“Good!” Dad said. “Karen, would you like me to pour you a glass of wine?”
Mom nodded. “Yes, please.”
Dad cleared their empty plates and returned with two glasses of red and a Pellegrino. “I opened the good stuff,” he said. “For all of us.” My fizzy water had a lemon tucked into the bottle top. “I think we all deserve it.”
At 9:30, I was still struggling. “Just a little more, Elizabeth,” Dad said, and I could hear the frustration in his voice. To his credit, though, he tried to hide it. “Just finish up and we can both go to bed.” Dad rubbed his eyes. He never stayed up past nine. Mom had gone to bed.
A fat, salty tear ran down my cheek, and I wiped it away. I pictured myself under my covers. My warm, soft comforter, fresh out of the dryer. My fluffy pillow. I picked up my fork. I took another bite of chicken. I gagged but got it down. The broccoli was limp, the milk warm.
Dad stood up and stretched. “I gotta hand it to you, kiddo. Your self-control and resolve are impressive. I know I would have given in about thirty minutes after this all started. You’re like your mom in that way. She’s always been stubborn, too.”
“The difference, Dad, is that I am trying hard to change myself. I’m working on my flaws.”
“She tries harder than you think, honey.”
I sighed. “I know.”
Dad nodded. “She’s always wanted an easy life for you, that’s all.”
It still stung a little that Mom thought I’d had to lose weight in the first place. Some things, it turns out, you can regret saying with all your heart, but all the regret in the world doesn’t make them hurt less.
“Elizabeth, your mom has spent her whole life feeling like she wasn’t good enough. Did you know that she went on her first diet at age seven? Seven! A girl called her fat, and when she went home, she saw what that other girl saw. And she felt like a failure. Did she ever tell you that?”
She hadn’t.
“Maybe Wallingfield would have helped her,” Dad said. “I don’t know. But if you beat this, she’ll see that. She’s already seeing it.”
I could barely help myself; how was I supposed to help Mom, too? “I’m the kid, Dad. The kid. I shouldn’t have to take care of Mom.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he said. “Just go easy on her. I’m going to go heat up your plate in the microwave. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”
When he returned, steaming plate in hand, he said, “Come on, kiddo. How about one bite while it’s still warm?” and set it down in front of me. “As Robert Frost said, ‘The best way out is always through.’”
I picked up my fork. Mom would never have given in like this, I thought miserably, shoving a bit of lukewarm, rubbery chicken in my mouth.
Nine fifty. I choked down the last chunk of potato, skin and all. Dad gave me a high five. I was so tired I could barely return it. I couldn’t even obsess about the ball of food in my stomach. But I wasn’t too exhausted to make Dad promise, before I took my last bite, that he’d call Sally and talk to her about portion sizes. I didn’t care how long I had to sit at that table, I told him. I would not go through another meal like that again.
“Nope. Not like your mom at all,” Dad said.
I didn’t have the energy to argue.
44
The next afternoon, Katrina showed up. When the doorbell rang and I saw her outside, I actually jumped up and down in excitement. Wonderful, beautiful Katrina. My friend. “Kat!” I squealed, flinging open the door and hugging her as she stood there in her black puffy coat and red hat. “Thank you for coming! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
I was so ready for her arrival. So far, my day had consisted of: breakfast with Mom, a snack and coffee run with Dad, lunch with Dad, and four episodes of Friends with Mom; she’d apparently watched the show in college, when it was actually on TV. All this together time was killing me. But now Katrina was here.
“Jeez,” she said with a smile as she extricated herself from my death grip. “Hi there.”
Then I saw Priya and Shay behind her. They’d made me a sign: WELCOME HOME, ELIZABETH in bubble writing.
“Elizabeth!” Priya yelled, like she hadn’t just blown me off for the entire month. She was wearing a brown fake-fur vest I hadn’t seen before. “I have missed you so much!” She flung herself at me. “I have so many things to tell you!” She paused. “Oh my God, you look great. So great!”
Shay stepped up next. At least she had the decency to be a little sheepish. “Hey, Elizabeth,” she said. “Can I give you a hug? It is so good to see you.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
She gave me a quick squeeze.
“Why are you guys here? Katrina, don’t you have”—I checked my phone to make sure I had the right day of the week—“your chem tutor this afternoon?”
“Yeah. I can’t stay long. She changed our time because she had something to do. And I wanted to come and say hi.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Me too. These guys were dying to see you, too, so I picked them up on the way.” Both Shay and Priya smiled and bobbed their heads.
“Wait!” Priya yelled. She wore a miniskirt and boots. She looked fabulous, all tan and tall. Her skin never looked pale, even in the winter. She was so lucky. “We forgot something!”
Shay patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll be right back. Don’t move.” They walked back down the path to Katrina’s car.
Katrina turned to me. Speaking in a soft voice she said, “Your mom called mine and told her to send me over.” She stopped smiling. “It was sort of weird to have to hear from my mom that you were home. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just, well, I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I’d meant to text her, really, but I didn’t know what I’d say when she asked how I was doing. I wasn’t sure myself.
“Katrina, why are Priya and Shay here?”
Katrina glanced at the car, nervous. “I told you at Wallingfield. They missed you.”
Maybe. Maybe not.
Katrina kept making excuses. “They’ve been super busy lately, you know—”
I stopped her. “You don’t have to keep covering for them.”
“I’m not! They’re just deep into junior year, you know?”
“I guess.”
She put a hand on my arm. “Well, they’re here now. Give them a chance, okay? I’ve missed it being the four of us.”