Going through the pictures that Ryan had sent me were as sharp a blade as any, but this was for Chubbalicious. I was going all in, like I should have from day one. Before I could change my mind, before I could pick myself apart with tweezers and my mother’s mocking voice, I chose the picture of me leaned across Austin, Brant, and Kieran as the landing page.
Above our heads it read: I am Chubbalicous.
I plugged the other pictures into the corresponding item pages and descriptions. I worked until everything was done and ready. All that was left was to hit publish and Chubbalicious would sink or swim, just like me. In a few days, I’d fling both of us out into the ether and see where we landed.
The knot in my belly had unraveled itself and now it was more excitement than fear.
I found I wanted to tell Brant about this as well. We’d planned to celebrate when I was done. A nighttime picnic with champagne and stars. Not being with him wouldn’t stop me from celebrating, but he’d just come to be such a big part of my life in such a short time.
Being around him wasn’t like being around Kieran. Whereas Kieran was intensity and fire, Brant was more like a stone. Not that he didn’t feel things, I knew he felt them deeply, but he was steadier, solid.
I closed the laptop and wandered around the house, trying not to overanalyze everything.
But my mistakes and failures surrounded me. Kieran’s empty room was an accusation. So were the holes drilled into the side of the fridge from when my mother had put a lock on the appliance to keep me from eating when she said I wasn’t allowed. I’d never gotten the cabinet fixed from the last time her last boyfriend had hit her. She’d grabbed onto it and pulled the door loose as she’d fallen.
She’d hit her head and never woke up.
Was it any wonder I’d never thought I could do or be anything while I still lived here? The place was full of bad energy.
Only it hadn’t been all bad. I’d used to pretend the picnic table in the backyard was a carriage, and I spent hours dressing up and pretending I was living in an Eloisa James book.
It was on the front porch I’d had my first kiss.
And it had been in my bedroom that I realized I was worth more than what life had offered me thus far. It was there when I started walking the walk, believing what I’d been telling myself all these years.
Although it had been in that bedroom I’d lost so much, too. It was tempting to say I’d lost everything, but I hadn’t. Not really. I’d found me.
I wandered out to the mailbox and among the various flotsam of bills and junk mail, I found a cream envelope, heavy paper. It was addressed to me in a lovely, flowing script.
Peeling the envelope open carefully, I saw it was a graduation announcement for Brant Edward Bowman. There was a handwritten note enclosed asking if I’d come.
I was thrilled and proud of Brant for working so hard. Of course I’d go. Except I saw that graduation day was the day I’d planned to launch Chubbalicious.
After everything that Brant had done for me, I could go to his graduation. The launch didn’t need anything from me at this point but to hit the publish button. Advertising was already in place.
What was more, I wanted to be at his graduation.
I walked back up on to the porch, and suddenly, the idea of walking back into that house was just too much. It was like this heavy, oppressive shadow that wrapped strong hands around my throat and squeezed.
The place was just too haunted for me now and I knew I’d made the right decision to move.
17
Launch day dawned bright and beautiful a week later, the sun streaming through the giant window in my new bedroom. I stretched lazily and my door creaked open, allowing the scents of coffee, almond meal waffles and bacon to waft inside.
“I’m ready to hit the button!” Bex said as pushed through the door. I was happy to see that Rosa was behind her.
“Move over, incoming.” Rosa flopped on the bed with me.
“So, I know breakfast in bed is supposed to be fun, but you guys are going to get crumbs in my blanket.”
“You sound like Gavin. Maybe you should go out with him,” Rosa teased.
“I don’t want to go out with anyone,” I said. “I’m just going to date myself for a while.”
Bex snickered. “Is it still yourself if it’s purple and plastic?” She waggled her perfectly waxed eyebrows.
“Shut up. At least I don’t have to worry about how it’s feeling and it’s certainly not going to cheat on me.”
“You got that right.” Bex pulled the laptop onto the bed and then nudged it at me. “Come on. It’s time.”
I pulled up the admin portal to the website. Everything was in place. All I had to do was click “publish” and Chubbalicious would be born into the world.
Fear and hope tangled together like sticky, spiky vines in my gut. I looked back and forth between the women on my bed. There was nothing left for me to do but jump—fling myself out into oblivion.
“What if it fails?” I whispered.
“It’ll never have the chance to succeed or fail if you never push the button.”
I thought about Kieran and how I’d had this same conversation with myself about being with him. What if it didn’t work? Would I rather be filled with some burning, burgeoning hope and longing for something I thought I couldn’t have or would I rather reach for it and know what it’s like to hold it in my hand?
Kieran hadn’t worked out so well.
But there was more to life than one relationship. There was more to everything than one failure.
So what if I failed? So what? I’d try again. I wasn’t going to let anything stop me.
I pushed the button and I waited.
I don’t know what I expected, maybe a slow burn. At best, I’d hoped for one or two orders a day, not this.
The site crashed in the first thirty minutes, but not before I’d sold out of all of my stock. The sheer amount of traffic was too much for the servers.
My mouth fell open. “Did that just happen?”
“I think it did. I told you, it was that picture.” Rosa grinned and pointed at the screen.
“That was a hot picture. I was hoping you’d have my size because if your clothes will net me guys like that…” Bex grinned.
“That shoot was so hot.” Rosa nodded.
“I guess I need to call the supplier and let them know. What if this was just a fluke?” I mean, this couldn’t have happened to me. Not like this. I didn’t just become a success within thirty minutes of launching the site. Did I?
I didn’t know if it was okay to be so happy. Part of me wondered if the second I surrendered to the joy, some kind of bomb would drop and take it all away.
But that was old me talking, that was me who didn’t know to expect better.
“Of course it wasn’t a fluke. You’re officially a successful entrepreneur.” Bex handed me a mimosa.
We clinked glasses together and celebrated my success.
“So, are you going to call Brant or Dick—Kieran to take you out?” Rosa asked, not looking at me.
“Neither.”
Rosa eyed me.
“Well, I can’t say that I don’t want to share this news with them both. They each helped me get here. You and Hollie, too. But Kieran is the one who said he didn’t want to be friends.”
“Could you really have just gone back to the ways things were before? You don’t think that would’ve been a slow death in itself?” Bex asked quietly.
“Maybe. And maybe one day, we’ll see each other and we’ll say hi. Or…” I didn’t want to think about what that would be like. I didn’t know if it would be bittersweet or just bitter.
I suddenly had this vision of twenty years later seeing him in a corner store getting bread and milk and I wave, and he waves, there are lines around his eyes making him that much more devastating. And me… I couldn’t see myself. All I could see was that we pass each other with a solemnity and a reverence for what was, and ma
ybe contentment with what is.
I guessed that’s the best I could hope for.
“What about Brant?” Rosa prodded.
“You’re just not going to leave this alone, are you?”
“No,” Rosa said.
“Duh,” Bex replied at the same time.
“His graduation is today. I’m going to go.”
“Oh really?” Bex smirked.
“He sent me an invitation. It’s not like that.”
“Why the hell not?” Rosa demanded.
“Because, I told you. We both need to heal and I’m not ready to worry about a relationship with anyone but myself. I’m just getting to know me.” That was true. I was just getting to know the me I wanted to be and it was hard work to get there.
“Riding Brant like a carnival attraction will in no way detract from your vision quest.” Rosa snorted.
“Maybe. Maybe not. He’s got his own stuff too, you know. He was really patient while I figured out what I wanted, but I know I hurt him.”
“So say you’re sorry.” Bex shrugged.
They just weren’t getting it. I couldn’t expect someone to love me until I could love myself. I didn’t have anything to give back. I cared about Brant, but was I in love with him?
No.
Could I be? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility it could happen, but I was still healing from Kieran, and most importantly from that voice in my head that told me I was never pretty enough, smart enough, or thin enough.
I had to tell myself every day that I didn’t have to be any of those things, that myself was good enough.
“So why are you going to his graduation?” Rosa eyed me.
Okay, so maybe I did want to see him. Maybe I did want to feel what it was like when he looked at me like I was some kind of goddess. Yes, I wanted that, but I wasn’t going to play with his feelings to get it. I wasn’t going to test him.
I wasn’t going to be Kieran.
“He was a good friend, even when it hurt him to be so. I want to do the same for him. I’m proud of him. He worked hard to get here.”
“Speaking of working, do you know that he quit The Rooster?” Rosa said while inspecting her nails, as if this wasn’t huge news.
“When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I kind of thought you guys would hash this all out. You know you belong with him,” Rosa said.
“And to think, that once upon a time, I was sure he couldn’t be anything like prince charming because he’s so much shorter than me. I guess that would be like him saying I couldn’t be his princess because of how fat I am.” I sighed. “You know what? I believed that part too.”
“Shut up with that,” Bex said.
“No, really. You don’t know what it’s like. You’re thin, petite even.” I shook my head. “You don’t know what it’s like to wear a label.”
“Oh, you think? Want to walk a mile in my Louboutins?” Bex bit her lip. “I’m not fat, but I am a slut. Or that’s what they call me.”
I turned my head sharply. “Really? Why?”
“Because I’m a slut, obviously.”
I knew it was meant to be light, but there was such pain behind her words.
“Tell us,” Rosa encouraged.
“I don’t do anything a man wouldn’t.” The outgoing Bex was suddenly shy and withdrawn. “I sleep with who I like, when I like. I like sex. So I have it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your body and good experiences. There’s nothing wrong with sharing it with who you choose. It sounds like those other assholes have the problem, not you.” Once, I might have wished to have her problems instead of mine. The whole world seemed much easier to navigate if I was thin, if I was beautiful. Only, I was starting to make peace with my demons. I wouldn’t want to have to start all over.
“My last long term lover said I was a sex addict.” She shrugged.
“There are worse things to be addicted to.” Rosa took her hand. “I think we’re all a little fucked up one way or another. Fuck them and their labels. We don’t need them. Just like Claire did with Chubbalicious, we define ourselves.”
“Yeah, I like that, Rosa.”
“The sun has to shine on a dog’s ass some time, right?” Rosa winked at me and I nudged her shoulder lightly with a grin.
“So what are you wearing to Mr. Bowman’s graduation?” Bex changed the subject.
Pain still lingered behind her eyes, but I wasn’t going to push her for more details. I was sure that in time, they’d come. I hope she knew I was there to talk if she needed me. I just went with the flow of conversation then.
“I have no idea.”
“What about that cute dress that looked like a mechanic’s shirt?” Rosa asked.
“That’s probably too casual.”
“Would you kill me if I say the cherries?”
I’d been wearing that dress the night we went on the boat tour, the night that things changed between us. “No, I wouldn’t kill you, but Brant might have some other memories with that dress.”
My face flamed.
“Oh really?” Rosa laughed. “Well, I think it’s the woman in the dress that he has the memories with. He didn’t make out with the dress.”
“That’s true. What about the lavender one with the yellow flowers?”
“I thought you weren’t dressing to impress?” Bex teased me.
“Well, I’m a fashion entrepreneur, right? I should look the part.” What was I doing? Maybe I should just stay home. I wasn’t ready to leap back in to anything and neither was he.
“Eat your breakfast.” Bex pushed a plate at me.
Under old circumstances, I wouldn’t have eaten. As if that would suddenly make me skinny. The oldest habits were the hardest to break. I recited a familiar litany.
It’s okay to nourish your body. It’s okay to eat. It’s okay to enjoy your food.
Only this time, I believed it—I knew it to be true.
I ate the waffle, and I didn’t feel guilty or ashamed.
18
I kept checking the orders that had come through Chubbalicious, just to make sure.
This was really my life.
Success shouldn’t have tasted so strange, but it did.
Brant’s graduation ceremony was at two so I had plenty of time to psych myself out, but I was determined not to.
This was the new me.
And it was just Brant. Just my friend.
Just the man who once wanted to be my lover, who’d started me on this journey.
As I put on the matching lavender lace bra and panty set, I looked in the mirror. I used to avoid them, but I was determined to look at myself and find something to like about what I saw.
There were stretch marks. Rolls. My belly hung down like a pouch. My body looked like I’d had children, but I hadn’t. My hips were rounded, my breasts were full. I wasn’t going to let myself choose my breasts as the thing to like, that was the easiest choice. Good breasts were good breasts, it wasn’t hard to like breasts.
What was hard to like were the stretch marks, the angry red slashes down my belly. The dimpling on my thighs. The apron of fat of my abdomen.
I pushed my hands down my belly to my thighs. I forced myself to look at it. I liked the contrast of the lavender lace against my pale skin, but that was easy to like too.
No, I was determined to like something unlikable.
My belly. I would find something that made it worthwhile.
I turned this way and that, forcing that reel of negative talk and insults in my head to be quiet. I rubbed it up and down, like a smooth marble Buddha statue. There was a time when only rich women had a body like this, a time when men made statues to honor this kind of shape.
Even though that time wasn’t now, I would find a way to honor it myself.
I realized how soft my skin was, like silk. It was substantial, but supple. I wrapped my arms around my middle and there was something nurturing about not just my curves, but even my gi
rth, my width. It was warm. It was safe. It was where I’d offered nurturing to those I loved. It was part and parcel of me.
You are lovable. I looked in the mirror and for the first time, I didn’t want to break it so I didn’t have to see myself. It was okay to be me. It was okay to be in this body. You are beautiful.
I believed it. I really, finally, honestly believed it.
I sank to the floor and I cried.
But they weren’t tears of grief or sadness, I guess it was more of an exorcism. I released all the bad that was just hanging out in my skull, ready to infect me with doubt at a moment’s notice.
The crying would make my face puffy, but I didn’t care. I let the emotion roll through me, over me, until I could look at myself again.
When I could finally finish dressing, my fingers were clumsy on the buttons. They didn’t feel like my fingers because they were so light, like hollow wood. I hadn’t realized how much everything had weighed me down, not just my heart, my everything. Knots unraveled in my shoulders, it was easy to hold my head high, my back straight. I wasn’t worried about sucking in my belly, or shrinking into the smallest space possible.
After fixing my hair, my makeup and stockings, I looked in the mirror again.
“Hello, you.” I said out loud, then satisfied with myself, I drove to the ceremony.
I expected to feel uncomfortable, on display, but I didn’t. Not even when there wasn’t anywhere for me to sit. I stood in the back and watched Brant get his degree.
Our eyes met, and he nodded to me from the stage and I smiled.
It was so strange how fast life could change. I thought about where I’d been a month ago and where I was now. It was like a different universe.
I wandered from the auditorium to the banquet hall and waited. I debated leaving before we had a chance to talk. Even though he invited me, he hadn’t made any other contact.
But he deserved to know how he changed me—how he helped me change myself.
The graduates milled in with their families, but Brant wasn’t with anyone. Only himself. He beelined for me.
“Thank you so much for coming.” It could have been any nicety uttered from any tongue that afternoon, but it sounded like a benediction coming from Brant. He pulled me into a quick hug, just long enough to smell his cologne and remember how good his arms felt.
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