by Katie Cross
It had taken Mira a solid year to work herself onto Diet Pepsi—with many relapses in between. When her husband had died, she’d turned to the loving arms of food and soda for comfort, downing up to six regular Pepsis a day. To imagine her just controlling that without consciously writing it down somewhere had me all jumbled up.
Surprise wasn’t exactly what I felt. Not even disappointment. I hadn’t wanted them to fail. No, these girls had it together. Part of me was proud of them.
What I felt was … jealousy.
I was the leader of the group. The originator. The one in control. I should be the one who made this look effortless. Who stood as the pinnacle all of them looked to.
And I was the one who couldn’t even trust myself.
“Let’s move onto our goals for the next week, then,” I said. When I glanced down to check the schedule, I realized we were ahead of time. I’d allowed extra time for their confessions of lapses in control.
Perhaps that time should have covered mine.
“Lexie, you start us out.”
Lexie wore a baggy white t-shirt I suspected had once been Bradley’s and had her hair in a lopsided bun. She leaned closer to the camera.
“Wait, Bits. We didn’t hear about you.”
I hadn’t reviewed the actual numbers from the week, but I didn’t need to. The binge had done me no favors. Neither had the extra-cheesy casserole I’d made as an atonement.
Mira waited, eyebrows lifted, nothing but compassion in her gaze. The words froze in my throat.
I couldn’t tell them.
They could never know that I was a failure. That I spouted health doctrines I could barely follow myself. Now that they’d reported such success with their mode of dieting—or not dieting—I couldn’t tell them the truth. I’d been sucked into a dangerous vortex. I was an imposter in this world of health and fitness.
“Fine,” I said, infusing cheer into my voice. “Gathered some fantastic information on DOMS—Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness—for next week. Megan, you could give us more real-life advice on it. Let’s go through the soy packet together. I’ve highlighted the most important parts. Mira, can you read the pink highlights?”
Except for the occasional stray giggle from the girls’ room, only Mira’s voice filled the void that followed. I slowly relaxed into the couch cushions. A temptation to ask about their own self-care routines floated through my mind. I stuffed it back down. No. I didn’t want to go there. Why alert them to … something?
To whatever was happening.
Lexie shot me a few wary glances. Surely she didn’t see through my facade. But even if Mira knew—and Lexie had some sort of suspicion that something wasn’t right—at least they hadn’t yet called me out.
Safe again.
For now.
To: Janine Morgan
From: Bitsy Walker
Subject: Self-Care Day 4
Janine,
I met with my accountability group today for thirty minutes.
BW
To: Bitsy Walker
From: Janine Morgan
Subject: Re: Self-Care Day 4
Bitsy,
Congratulations. Did it fill you with joy?
J
To: Janine Morgan
From: Bitsy Walker
Subject: Re: re: Self-Care Day 4
Yes. I mean … sort of. Anxiety, actually. Okay, fine. That won’t count next time unless it makes me happy.
BW
To: Janine Morgan
From: Bitsy Walker
Subject: Self-Care Day 6
Janine,
Today, my self-care was reading through health articles on the internet for twenty minutes after my girls went to bed.
BW
To: Bitsy Walker
From: Janine Morgan
Subject: Re: Self-Care Day 6
Sounds interesting. Any articles on self-care? I can recommend a few if you’d like. I’m curious what you’ve learned so far in the last five days.
J
To: Janine Morgan
From: Bitsy Walker
Subject: Re: re: Self-Care Day 6
What have I learned so far? That self-care isn’t as easy as I thought, and twenty minutes is a lot to fill with ‘me’ time when there’s always so much to do.
Today, my self-care for 20 minutes was reading through the forums in my calorie-counting app. It did make me happy, actually. I felt like I belonged.
BW
To: Bitsy Walker
From: Janine Morgan
Subject: Re: re: re: Self-Care Day 6
That’s all I ask.
J
Chapter 8
Self-Care Time
The sound of Lana humming—and Lizzy commanding her to stop by royal decree of Queen Daffodalia—rang through the house at bedtime. I pressed my fingertips into my head and drew in a deep breath.
Patience, I told myself. Patience like Jade probably has when the girls are with her, and she’s becoming their favorite person on this planet.
“Go to bed!” I called down the hall. “You’re going to your dad’s tomorrow after school, and I don’t want you to be grumpy.”
Even though I did.
I grabbed a cup of tea and plopped down on the couch, my old robe tight around me. With my jaw set, I grabbed the remote, sank into the cushions, and turned the TV on. It flickered to life.
I drew in a deep breath.
“Just TV, Bitsy. It’s not going to bite you. You can watch TV for twenty minutes without exploding.”
The fact that I had to talk myself out of panic attack just because I’d sat down to watch TV was an obvious testament to how tightly wound I had become. When had it become so bad? Everything had jumbled together in a timeline of frantic events—marriage, death, an unexpected pregnancy right after marriage, and babies so demanding and darling I could barely hold myself together.
I shoved aside my crowded list with Lizzy fresh on my mind. If TV would help me control myself better, then TV it would be.
When I passed the shopping channel, I thought of Mira, who constantly bought jewelry off of it. Then I scrolled back to watch it.
Maybe there was something to it.
A man in a button-up shirt—with more gold than should be legal for any human to wear—held a glittering display. Silver. Platinum. Emeralds. Opals. Sapphire. Diamonds. I shook my head and kept going.
Nope. Not worth it.
A documentary on the mating habits of elk, a reality show about married rich women in Miami, and country music videos full of tan twenty-somethings and short shorts couldn’t hold my attention. The news flickered past with more political drama.
Had my own, thanks.
I finally stopped on a murder mystery that reminded me of Rachelle. Five minutes into it, my eyes strayed to a light ring staining the carpet. Had Lana spilled something without using the carpet cleaner? That girl … I started to push off the couch but stopped myself.
No.
Self-care time.
I sank back down into the cushions.
“Right. TV. Relax. This is me time, not house time.”
My gaze returned to the TV, but only for a moment. An entire shelf of books had tilted at some point and now slanted to the side. That was a quick fix. Once the commercials started, I hopped to my feet. What felt like four inches of dust came away with my hands when I adjusted the books.
“Appalling,” I muttered, wiping the dust on my pants. “A quick polish will set you up just fine…”
The words trailed away.
No cleaning, Janine had said. She’d been explicit. I growled, then sank back onto the couch, tilted my head back, and stared at the ceiling. Then I closed my eyes.
“This is not stupid. This will work. This is not stupid.”
If I dusted the shelf, I’d feel better. I’d feel like I accomplished something and possibly improved my life and that of my daughters. Who, admittedly, couldn’t even reach that shelf or read those books. My brow fu
rrowed. I’d just spent my entire day working, cooking, providing for them, and spending time with them.
Didn’t that count as improving their lives?
You stopped to take time for yourself, which isn’t productive … came the thought.
“That’s beside the point!” I hissed to the quiet air.
Then I draped my arm over my eyes, shut the TV off, and lay in the silence until the timer rang. With a grumble, I trudged to bed, frustrated, confused, and by no means more relaxed than when I started.
The doorbell pealed the next day.
Lana shrieked. Lizzy jumped off the couch. Both girls sprinted toward the front door and slammed into it in their haste to get there first. Lizzy wrenched the doorknob open with a triumphant shout.
“Got it, Lana!”
Jade grinned at them from the other side. “Lizzy this time, eh?” she asked. “You’re slowing down, Lana.”
Lana rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll get it next time!”
Lizzy threw her arms around Jade’s hips as I stepped out of the kitchen. The smell of homemade burritos in simmering red sauce still lingered in the air. I forced a smile.
“Hey, Bitsy.” Jade stumbled back a step as Lana threw herself into her legs, nearly knocking her over.
“Hi.”
“Sorry Daniel couldn’t make it,” she said, as if reading my mind. “He got caught up at work and didn’t want the girls to wait.”
A flicker of disappointment caught me right in the chest. Nothing to note tonight, I thought. A new calendar sat on top of the fridge, just waiting for him to slip up.
Jade turned to Lizzy with a wink. “But don’t worry! He’ll still be there for the movie tomorrow.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Movie?”
“Dad promised that we could go to the new princess movie!” Lizzy said, her eyes alight. A piece of my heart shriveled. I had planned on surprising them with that next weekend.
“I know you’re going to love it,” I said with a smile. “I’m sure it will be a blast.”
Lizzy let out a breath that deflated her shoulders, as if she were relieved.
“Are we going to start a war, Jade?” Lana asked, craning her head all the way back.
Jade flicked her once on the shoulder, eliciting a deep, adoring grin from Lana. “Of course. Shortly after we get the family pictures tomorrow. We have lots to do tonight to prepare.”
Lana melted to the ground and groaned, and Lizzy leaped up with a squeal.
Jade’s gaze flickered to mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a hint of uncertainty there.
Family pictures?
“Did Daniel tell you?” she asked carefully, then shook her head. “No, I’ll bet not. He wanted to have some professional photos taken after the wedding. I-I hope that’s okay?”
Not for the first time, I wondered what Daniel had told her about the divorce. I met her gaze, unsure what to say.
“He definitely didn’t mention it.” I folded my arms across my chest. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with them taking photos. He was their father. Jade didn’t even have to bring it up.
Still, the image of them posing as a happy family…
She grimaced. “I’m so sorry. I knew I should have just texted you about it, but I wanted to give him a chance to tell you himself. I don’t want to become some sort of go-between for the two of you.”
I couldn’t blame her.
“I’m so excited, Mom!” Lizzy said, twirling in place. She wore a flowered skirt that I’d bought at the discount store last year. It crept up on her calves now, well above her ankles, where it was supposed to hit. She either didn’t notice or pretended not to notice that it was getting too small. My stomach hurt at the thought. The girls would be gorgeous, no doubt, in whatever they wore.
“Are you sure that’s okay, Bitsy?” Jade asked. “If you’re not comfortable with—”
Oh, Jade was good at this.
Really good.
“That’s very sweet of you, but I’m sure that will be quite fun. Definitely do it.”
Lana groaned, but Lizzy squealed again, grabbed Jade’s hands, and twirled in a circle. Jade went with it, singing a song off-key that sounded like an Irish jig.
“I love getting my picture taken!” Lizzy cried.
“I hate it,” Lana mumbled.
“And you get your hair done by a professional hair stylist,” Jade said. “She’s going to come to the house. Oh, and the dresses we found for you are beautiful. We’re going to stop by the boutique on the way home to try them on. I hope you like lace!”
Lizzy nearly passed out. Lana flopped on the floor like a dead fish. Given the opportunity, I imagined she would have crawled into a mud hole and never returned.
Lizzy stopped spinning, her eyes wide. “Do I get to wear makeup?”
Jade hesitated, then looked at me. “That’s up to your mom.”
My heart hesitated. Jade was giving me the power. Yet … how could I say no?
“Ah … a little bit.”
Jade reached over, brushing a lock of hair off Lizzy’s forehead with a tender expression and warm smile. Lizzy returned it. Heat exploded across my chest.
This was worse than I had expected.
Far worse.
“Jade, can you come to my play?” Lizzy asked.
“Your play?”
“Yeah! We get two tickets each. Then you and Dad can come. Mom and Grandpa can have the other two!”
Shock rendered me speechless. She wanted the tickets to go to her dad? What about Mira? Why hadn’t she asked me? I was the one slaving over her costumes, working overtime to make the money to cover the expensive material so she felt like a true mermaid princess, and getting on her to rehearse her lines every night.
Jade glanced quickly at me, then crouched next to Lizzy. “I’m not sure, sweetheart. We may already have something booked for that night. We’ll look into it.”
Jade’s conciliatory tone and the way she tucked her hair behind her ear told me she was lying. She’d come up with that on the spot. Still, the damage was done. Lizzy wanted her father and Jade there. Good thing Daniel wasn’t here. He’d have snatched that right up.
Lana shoved off the floor. “Can we go so Dad and I can pig out on pizza? Can we do pirate night again? Can I drink root beer from the bottle and say argh all the time?”
Jade gave her a nervous smile, her eyes darting toward me. “Drink from the root beer bottle? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I made homemade lasagna!”
Lizzy cheered, and Lana whooped.
“Mom!” Lana cried. “Jade’s lasagna is the best.” She tugged on Jade’s arm and yanked her toward the door. “Let’s GOOOO! I don’t want to be late.”
Jade stumbled after her. “Sorry, Bitsy. Do you have any instructions for me?”
My head nearly exploded with all I had to say. Family photo? Hairdressers? Lace dresses? Makeup?
Pirate night?
Yes, there was plenty I wanted to say, but I wouldn’t. I still didn’t know why she looked at me with such bright, hopeful eyes. We weren’t going to be friends.
“No,” I said. “No instructions, thank you. Just have fun!”
“Can you give me a second to chat with your mom?” Jade asked. Both girls sighed, then trudged to the porch.
My stomach tightened when she turned to me.
“If, for some reason—like Daniel’s awful habit of losing his cell phone—you can’t get ahold of us and you need to, don’t hesitate to call or text me.”
“Thanks.”
All evidence of ease disappeared from her expression. Her brow furrowed, and the faint freckles on her porcelain skin smudged together.
“Listen, Bitsy, let me know what kind of boundaries you want with the girls, all right? They call me Jade, and I’m fine with that. But if there’s any rules you want to set, let me know, all right?”
My fingers curled into my palm. She was hinting at the possibility of them calling her Mom in the
future. Until that moment, I hadn’t even considered it. The thought took my breath away.
“I will. Thanks.”
The intensity disappeared with another smile. “I want to make sure that you and I are speaking directly about those things, instead of through Daniel. I think it’s better for everyone that way. He’s a good man, but I think it’s easier to be direct.”
My nails dug deeper into my palms. I smiled.
“Agreed.”
“Thanks. I’ll call if we have any questions. The girls will be back by nine tonight. We’ll probably pick them up again around seven in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Jade stepped backward and onto the porch, her hair gleaming a bright red as she strode away. My throat tightened as both girls raced to take her by the hand and walk her to the car.
No goodbyes rang through the air. Lana’s excitement over homemade lasagna, however, could be heard by the whole neighborhood. I hadn’t made a pasta dish that extensive … ever.
Jade already had them laughing as she opened the back doors. Both girls settled in without arguing over the front seat—which I explicitly didn’t allow, but they constantly argued with me about. Lana even fastened her seatbelt without being ordered.
When they drove away, both girls were dancing to a boy-band song Jade had turned up on the radio. The gleeful party disappeared down the street as the bass dropped. I retreated into the house.
This is a time for self-care, Janine would say. What can you do to take care of yourself when you’re feeling run-down?
I passed the cupboards full of healthy food, ignored the temptation to check my calorie counter—I already knew I had seven hundred calories for my burrito dinner, which I’d just lost my appetite for—and grabbed my phone. After a quick text to Mira, I snatched my purse off the table and headed for the garage.
Time to take Mira to a movie.
The heady smell of popcorn and melted butter filled my nose.
There wasn’t much I missed about junk food—except maybe the delicious zest of sugar—but if I had to narrow down my three favorite splurges, movie-style popcorn was at the very top of the list. Along with soft-serve ice cream and bananas foster.