Diary of a Mad Fat Girl

by Stephanie McAfee

  “Well, Ace, I’m sure glad there ain’t no boxed bacon on your table out here tonight,” Ethan says, keeping his hand on my hip. He holds my screen door open while I poke around in my purse for my keys.

  “Tell me about it, Ethan,” I say, unlocking the door. “Tell Logan I’ll pick him up in the morning and take him to school and we’ll do our best to get there on time so he won’t get fired for riding with me.”

  “Will do, Ace,” He kisses me on the head and turns to go. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  I hear his cowboy boots clomping off the porch and a second later, he peels out of my driveway like the true blue country boy that he is. I imagine him and Logan laughing their hillbilly asses off all the way down the road.

  13

  I pick up Coach Hatter Thursday morning and we arrive at school ten minutes early. He goes to the gym for what the rest of us call “Coach Coffee” and I go to my classroom where, much to my dismay, I find Catherine Hilliard and her large ass standing outside my door.

  “In,” she hisses with through those thin, crusty lips.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hilliard,” I say and offer her a powdered donut as I walk past her into my classroom. She declines. “You sure? They’re real good.” I pop a whole one in my mouth.

  “Sit,” she says, like I’m a dog.

  “I’d rather stand. Or I could roll over, if you like.”

  I can see that really pisses her off so I say, “Why don’t you have a seat? You look really tired and it’s just, what?” I look down at my watch. “Seven fifteen. I’m here ten minutes early! What?!?”

  She glares at me and I decide sit on top of my desk.

  “You,” she says and points to me, “you think you are so funny and so cool.”

  I nod my head in agreement and she continues, speaking slowly, “As long as I have had the displeasure of knowing you, you have conducted yourself like no one in your entire life has ever taught you anything.”

  “Are you talking about my mama?” I ask, getting offended, “because she was a good woman and it would be awful tacky of you to speak ill of the dead.”

  “I am most certainly not talking about your mother, I am talking about you,” she snarls her chapped lips. “You run around and think you are so,” she pauses, “so entertaining with your mindless stupidity telling everybody everything you know all the time. You think-”

  “Whoa now, Cathy,” I cut her off, “I don’t like the direction this is going.”

  “You humiliate yourself, yet you think you’re so comical, well, let me tell you something-”

  “When did I humiliate myself?” I ask with a mouthful of doughnut. “Because I don’t recollect.”

  “You had the nerve, the audacity, to go out in public, a bar of all places, and shamelessly run your loud mouth about an incident that landed you in jail and then you decide to really get funny and start making fun of me and the fact that you are about to lose your job. Do you think you can make fun of me and get away with it? You respect me because I am your superior. ”

  It never fails. News travels at the speed of light in Bugtussle, Mississippi.

  “Did it ever occur to you, Cathy, that I reserve my respect for people who earn it and, quite frankly,” I cock my head sideways and look at her, “that’s not you. Furthermore, I will say whatever I want to say wherever I want to say it and there is not one small thing that you can do about it because I do believe that freedom of speech is still in full effect in the Constitution.”

  She glares at me and her porky face is blood red.

  “What are you gonna do, Mrs. Hilliard?” I ask with all the sarcasm I can muster. “Write me up for drinking a beer and hanging out with my friends? I mean, while drinking beer is considered a mortal sin by you fine upstanding hypocrites over at the First Self-Righteous Church, people with a good dose of common sense know that we’re not going to hell for it, regardless of what your personal opinion is.”

  “I will get rid of you,” she says. “That I promise. You and that slutty little friend of yours.”

  “What?” I yell.

  “And I will have you know that my grandchildren, my grandchildren were having dinner on the patio of Pier 57 and heard every word you said and you will not get away with making fun of me in public places. Especially in front of my grandchildren.”

  “If I’d known they were listening, I would’ve given them a little shout out about overcoming childhood obesity because, you know, gluttony is right up there with drunkenness as a big ol’ no-no according to the Bible,” I say and smile and she presses her lips together and sucks a long breath of air through those pig nostrils, “and I will start recording all of our conversations from here on out and I’ll contact the Mississippi Association of Educators and let them know all about your big plans to fire me for personal reasons.”

  “You call whoever you want. It’s not going to make any difference,” she says and leans toward me and I’m afraid for a second that she’s going to bite me. “You are an embarrassment to the teaching profession, Miss Jones.”

  “And you are a scab on the ass of humanity, Mrs. Hilliard.” I smile at her.

  “Be in my office at lunch time,” she says and stomps toward the door.

  “I’ll probably be on the phone with my attorney during lunch.”

  “Really,” she says, spinning around to face me, “I thought things didn’t work out very well for you and your attorney. Terrible mess from what I heard. You moving to Florida and thinking he was going to marry you when he had another woman all along. Tragic.” She turns around and walks toward the door.

  “That’s not exactly right,” I stammer, a little shell-shocked from the brutal honesty, “but what do you care about what’s right? Self-service is your only concern.”

  “Miss Jones,” she says as she reaches for the doorknob, “have you ever heard the phrase Quit while you’re behind? You might want to consider that.”

  She jerks the door open and nearly bulldozes Logan Hatter.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Hilliard,” he says politely and holds out his hand, “come on out.”

  “Out of my way, Hatter!” she shouts and stomps past him, beige pumps bulging.

  Coach Hatter comes in my classroom with wide eyes and a questioning look.

  “I’m really startin’ not to like her,” he says with boyish innocence. “I have never been anything but nice and respectful to that woman and she talks to me like I stole something out of her back yard.”

  “You’re guilty by association, Hatter,” I tell him. “Find some friends that she likes and she will certainly shower you with approval. Heck, you might even get to knock off a piece.”

  He makes a gagging sound and the bell rings and I decide right then and there to take Friday off. I’ve had all the fun I can stand for one week.

  14

  Thursday night, I hang out with Buster Loo, eat left over pizza and a bag of potato chips for supper, and watch everything I have recorded on the DVR.

  It’s times like this, when I feel my life starting to crumble, that I miss my parents the most. I would give anything if I had somebody, hell, anybody here to tell me that it’s okay, that I’m okay, and that everything it going to be just fine. My Mamaw Essie was that person, but last summer I lost the luxury of her presence here on Earth. I have no brothers or sisters, no aunts or uncles or cousins. I’m the only child of only children and that makes for an awful lonely existence sometimes. Especially when the old metaphorical train jumps off the tracks.

  My only family is my friends and thanks to Lilly, I’m down one of those now. I’d like to think that Lilly wouldn’t do me like it looks like she’s done me, but Drake Driskall sitting half naked in her house is fairly hard evidence that she has. And I know Lilly Lane well enough to know that she is, in reality, an incredibly spoiled and self-centered soul.

  This whole mess makes me feel sick.

  I hate living in Bugtussle, Mississippi. There are so many folks here that I can’t stand the sight
of and every time I leave the house, I see at least ten people that I want to punch in the face. Lilly is always telling me that people are basically the same no matter where you go, but I don’t buy into that way of thinking. I’ve traveled around quite a bit and I’m relatively certain that Bugtussle has a surplus of idiots and assholes, most of which are pious fanatics who love to bash you over the head with their religion. They have their socially acceptable sins like gluttony, fornication, and adultery to which they easily turn a blind eye to, but if you drink beer or happen to be gay, then the wrath of the fat fornicators and judgmental adulterers will descend upon you like fire from the pits of a twisted hell.

  These are the people that I want to punch in the face. Repeatedly. And almost all of them go to church with Catherine Hilliard over at the First Self-Righteous Church of Bugtussle.

  I’d like to pick up and move away from here, but the problem is that I don’t have anywhere to go and that makes me miss my family even worse than already I do. And as bad as I hate to admit it, I miss Mason McKenzie more and more with each passing day and even though I haven’t seen him in over three years, his absence weighs on me like a Mack truck. In a way, it seems like only a few hours have passed since I packed up all my stuff and left him standing in the garage of his three story house. In another way, it seems like an eternity has passed.

  And the questions, they never go away. What if I was wrong about him? What if he was telling me the truth? What if he does love me? Could I be so lucky? Does he really want to have babies and grow old with me? Did I walk away from my only chance of ever being happy? Of ever being loved? Or ever having a family again?

  I look over at my phone. No one has called or texted me all day long.

  I pull Buster Loo up a little closer to me, snuggle down into the sofa, and pray for sleep to come quickly.

  15

  Friday morning, Chloe calls and I gladly accept her invitation to come over for a visit. After picking up a nice bouquet, I head over to her place, nervous as a cat.

  I get a dreadful feeling when I think about seeing her face to face and end up driving past her house twice before parking on the street and getting out. I have knots in my stomach as I walk up the driveway and by the time I ring the door bell, I feel like I’m going to hurl.

  When she opens the door, she’s wearing a scarf around her head and a pair of gigantic sunshades. Even with bruises showing through her make-up, she still somehow manages to look glamorous.

  “Well, hello, Ace,” she says sweetly, but I can tell she’s nervous, “come on in.”

  “For you, my love,” I say dramatically and present the flowers to her with such flourish that she starts to giggle.

  I take a seat in her lavish living room and she goes into the kitchen and brings me a glass of ginger ale.

  “To help settle your tummy,” she says with a half-hearted smile.

  “You know me too well, my friend,” I say as she arranges the flowers in an expensive looking crystal vase.

  “Well, it’s the least I can do for someone nice enough to bring me such a lovely bouquet.”

  I try to think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind, so I just sit there looking like I’ve lapsed into some kind of idiotic stupor. The doorbell rings just as I’m starting to feel super awkward and I notice that Chloe doesn’t look particularly surprised. She hops up and scurries into the foyer and I hear her whispering with whoever is at the door. She returns to the living room, followed by Lilly Lane and at that very moment, I realize I’ve been ambushed.

  “I wanted to speak with both of you so I hope it’s alright that I invited Lilly over,” Chloe says sweetly and looks at me with those big round puppy dog eyes.

  “That’s fine, Chloe,” I say and give Lilly the evil eye. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m pretty sure Richard is cheating on me,” she begins slowly and I want to roll my eyes and snort, but I don’t, “and I think it’s with more than one person and I think it’s been going on for a while.” She holds up both hands like she’s surrendering to something, “I know y’all have suspected such for a long time, but I’m asking you to be patient with me as I try to work my way through this.” She looks down at the floor. “I’m ready to do something and I can’t do it without y’all, but it has to be done on my terms.”

  “Okay,” we say in unison.

  “First of all, I want you guys to hug and make up.”

  “What?!” I yell. “Chloe, seriously?”

  “Very seriously,” she says, “I need you both to help me and I won’t tell you what I found until you hug Lilly and tell her y’all are friends again.”

  “Oh, good word,” I say and this time I do roll my eyes.

  “Am I that bad, Ace?” Lilly snorts like a real smart ass.

  “Don’t start with me,” I fire back.

  “Please, y’all don’t do this,” Chloe says, “or I promise I won’t give you the passwords to Richard’s email accounts.”

  That got my attention. “Where did you get those?” I ask.

  “Hug Lilly and I’ll tell you.”

  Lilly gets up, smiling like the kid who deserved the spanking but didn’t get it. I stand up and give her a quick hug. At least Chloe didn’t ask me to help her out the bind she’s screwed herself into. I guess Lilly warned her that I could only go so far.

  “Lilly,” I say, drilling her with the evil eye, “we are officially friends again, but only because I am committed to helping Chloe do whatever she needs done.” I look at Chloe. “Is that good enough? I hope so because it’s really all I can manage right now.”

  “I guess,” Chloe says, smiling. “Now let’s go to Richard’s office.”

  I spend the next thirty minutes downloading all kinds of names and addresses and phone numbers and emails from Richard Stacks’ personal computer. The creep has six different email accounts and Chloe found the user names and passwords written on the bottom of his mouse pad. There is so much information and it’s so random that it’s impossible to link one woman to one phone number or physical address, but knowing their names and having their email addresses is a good starting point.

  “I’m going to take this list and cross reference it with the little black book he keeps in his briefcase and try to put some names together with a phone number or an address or, if I’m lucky, both.”

  “He doesn’t keep his brief case locked?” Lilly asks.

  “No,” she says, “I guess he thinks I’m too dumb and/or scared to pilfer through his things, but I’m here to tell you girls,” she gets a faraway look in her eye, “those days are over.”

  “Hell, yeah!” I say and give her a very gentle hug.

  “Chloe,” Lilly says, “we will do anything and everything we can.”

  “I know,” Chloe peeps, “and I know y’all love me enough to do this together.” She goes to the closet and brings out a box. “Here, use this. It’s a $1400 camera that I got for Christmas and I’ve never used it so y’all will have to figure it out,” she hands it to me. “Get me some proof. I know y’all are seasoned stalkers.”

  “That we are,” I say, nodding my head in agreement, “that we are.”

  “Okay, so do what you can with what you have there and I’ll email you the list of addresses in a day or two.”

  Before either of us have time to respond, the doorbell rings and this time, Chloe looks surprised and becomes visibly nervous. So nervous, in fact, that she starts to shake.

  “What is it, Chloe?” I ask. “Do you want me to get the door?”

  “No,” she says, “I’ll get it. Just go through there and wait in the sun room if you don’t mind.”

  Lilly and I hustle into the sun room like scalded dogs. After what seems like an eternity, Chloe comes back, smiling.

  “It’s Brother Berkin,” she says, looking more than a little embarrassed, “sorry about that.”

  “Not a problem,” I say.

  “No problem at all,” Lilly chimes in.

  “Ok
ay,” she whispers, “do we have a plan?”

  “Yes, we most certainly do,” I whisper back. “We’ll check out the local addresses tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Chloe asks with palpable enthusiasm.

  “Absolutely,” Lilly replies.

  Brother Berkin greets us in the foyer and we exchange polite pleasantries before Lilly and I head out the door.

  Once we’re outside, Lilly turns to me with a pleading look on her face.

  “Ace, I need some help,” she says. “I’m asking you as a friend to help me. I can’t do it alone.”

  “Lilly, I’ll do whatever I can to help Chloe, but your problem,” I shake my head, “I’m not going near that.”

  “Ace, Catherine Hilliard has some stuff of mine that I desperately need to get back. It has nothing whatsoever to do with Drake Driskall, I swear to God, please.”

  “Fine, Lilly,” I say, “but if you screw me on this, I just want you to know that I will whip your ass. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll pick you up at your place.”

  16

  Wicked is as wicked does. Or was that stupid?

  “Lilly,” I say, as she settles into my passenger seat, “look at all this from my point of view and tell me what I’m supposed to think about you right now.” I look at her, “Who is the Gentleman?”

  “Ace,” she says with a heavy sigh, “you have been my best friend for over twenty years and you know I love you like a sister, right?”

  “Lilly, I’m not detecting an answer in that gibberish and if you want me to put this car in reverse, then you better cease and desist with the sentimental bullshit and give me something legit.”

  “Why can’t you just trust me?” she whines. “Just believe in me, like Chloe always does.”

  “Chloe still believes in Santa Claus,” I say and wince at the reference and Lilly turns the evil eye on me. “Okay, let me take that back. But this car isn’t moving from this driveway until you tell me what’s going on with you.”