by Becky Siame
My hands ball into fists. “Don’t threaten me about my children. Be very careful what you say next, Tiresa,” I warn.
Tiresa crosses her arms. “It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. I’ll do whatever is necessary for the good of those kids, unlike you. You won’t help them or fight for them, just like you didn’t fight for Mika.”
“You stole my husband and convinced him that he didn’t love me anymore. I was sick with post-partum depression. What was I supposed to do?” I scream.
“Stole?” Tiresa spits. “I didn’t steal Mika. You lost him because you let yourself go. If you had gotten off your fat ass and stopped being a cow who sat around all day eating and whining about how depressed you were, maybe you’d still be married to him. You deserve to lose him. Mika needed a strong woman at his back and you weren’t it. You were never there for him, just like you aren’t there for Abe and Fi now.”
She gets into my face. “You may have surgery to lose weight, but you’ll still be a waste space in this world. You are a joke, Bella. You’re a loser and you always will be because you only care about yourself. You push everyone away and then cram food down your throat to make yourself feel better. How long will it be before you gain back all the weight? Just like you wasted your marriage, you’re wasting Frank’s money. You’ve poisoned his mind with your sob stories. But I won’t let you get away with it.” She turns and walks toward the door.
I choke back a sob and fall to my knees as her words pierce my heart. I hear the door open. “Mika is picking the kids up from school today. We’ve bought them nice clothes, so you don’t need to pack for them anymore.”
The door slams behind her as the tears start to flow. Emotional vampire . . . Abe and Fi are better off with us . . . deserve to lose him . . . how long will it be before you gain back all the weight? Her words are calculated to hurt me. They aren’t true. But I can’t stop crying. Am I an emotional vampire? Did I deserve to lose Mika? Will I gain back all the weight I lost and will lose?
I hate my sister.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Old habits die hard-something you’ll discover when it comes to dieting. That’s why it’s called ‘die’ting.”
FROM BELLA’S BLOG
http://www.thelightersideoflarge.com/ch14
My phone rings just as I drop off Abe and Fi at school. “Mama Rose,” I moan, but don’t answer it, not while I’m driving. Mama Rose’s conversations are too much of a distraction to safely drive and listen. That, plus I am still angry with her for telling Tiresa about the surgery.
I wait until after my workout and shower to return her call, when I’ve exhausted most of my anger. “Hello, Mama Rose,” I say and brace for impact.
“Talofa, Isabella. How are you and the Fanau o lau fanau?”
“They’re fine, Mama Rose. Doing well in school and behaving themselves mostly at home.”
“Lelei, lelei. But of course they are, they are my grandchildren and Samoans are always better behaved than whites.”
“Uh, Mama Rose,” I clear my throat, “I’m half white. Does that mean I behave badly?”
“Of course not, alofa. You simply had a disadvantaged upbringing. But I didn’t call to chat about the past. Sa toe faapea atu le toeaina, afai ae toe misa oulua o le a liu ma’a loa i le mea o lo’o tu ai. I need to know if you’re still coming to the engagement party. It’s in three weeks.”
I exhale loudly, bitterly remembering Tiresa’s tirade against me just a few days ago. “No, I’m really not interested in attending.”
“Why?” Mama Rose asks. “Do you need a date? Harrison has been asking about you. He really is a very nice young man. And he’s Samoan.”
I grit my teeth. “Yes, well, after marrying a cheating Samoan spouse, I’ve decided to date only whites from now on.”
There is a pause on the other end of the line before the dam bursts. “A’u Atua! Are you valea?”
An iron enters my soul. Not all of my anger dissipated with the workout. “No, Mama Rose, I am not. I’ve never been more clear-minded. As a matter of fact, I’ve gone out with a white man. He’s a successful businessman with two companies, he treats me like a queen, and he doesn’t demand that I hang out with spiteful Samoan relatives who think I cause problems for everyone. And I decided to forego the pleasure of the engagement party after Tiresa waltzed over to my house a few days ago to accuse me of stealing money from my own father to pay for the lap band surgery and for letting my husband leave me without a fight. So if you don’t mind, Mama Rose, I’d rather you not speak with Tiresa about the details of my life, especially after I specifically asked you to not tell her about the surgery, nor ask me to endure her spitefulness any longer.” It is the first time I’ve ever really stood up to Mama Rose.
“All right, dear. If that’s the way you feel,” she says faintly. A pause. “And how is your father?”I sigh, feeling drained after my explosion. “He’s fine. In fact, he’s more mobile than the doctors expected, so I don’t need to take care of him as much as I anticipated. He starts radiation treatment in a few weeks.”
“Good, lelei.” Another pause and I begin to feel guilty. “Well, you are probably very busy so I will let you go.”
Here it comes, I say to myself.
“But if you change your mind and decide to come to the party, your boyfriend is welcome, I’m sure.”
I roll my eyes. “Mama Rose, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend right now.”
Her relief is palpable through the cell phone signal.
“Oh? Good. I will talk with you soon. Tofa.”
“Tofa loa,” I answer and hit the end call button. I hate feeling guilty for speaking to Mama Rose like that, but on the other hand, enough is enough. I will no longer cave to the familial demands to play nicely, as if nothing is wrong with the fact that my sister stole my ex-husband, as if I should forgive and forget. But when will Mika and Tiresa ask to be forgiven and allow me to forget what they’ve done?
I look up to find I’m standing in front of Café Crave and feel the sudden need to fortify myself with a fat-free cappuccino.
“Hey, girlfriend,” Riyaan greets me. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
I shrug. “Work on some drawings and look for magazines which take art submissions.”
Riyaan clasps my hand. “I have a better idea. I’m taking half a day off to go shopping. I have a date Saturday and need a new outfit.”
Shopping is the last thing I want to do. It reminds me of AmandaE, which reminds me of Tiresa, and I don’t need to be reminded of her. “Maybe some other time…” I say when my phone rings. I rummage through my purse for it. It’s Jae. “Hello?” I say brightly, holding up a finger at Riyaan for him to hold his thought.
“Hello, Bella? How are you?”
“Great, how are you?”
“Great.”
Riyaan rolls his eyes, hearing every word of our polite yet redundant conversation thus far.
“Hey, I want to set up a time for our jet skiing date and ask you out to lunch today, if it’s not too short of notice.”
“No, no, I’m free,” I do a little dance and wink at Riyaan. “What time shall we meet?”
“Do you mind a late lunch? I’ve got some business to take care of that can’t wait. How does 1 p.m. sound? I thought we could have a picnic on the beach.”
“A picnic sounds fantastic,” I flash Riyaan a huge grin and give him the thumbs up sign. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just yourself. I have it all organised.” Riyaan nods with approval. “Shall we meet at the pier?”
“Sounds great. I’ll be there at one o’clock.”
“I look forward to seeing you again. Bye.”
“Bye,” I hang up.
Riyaan nods again. “A picnic on the beach? Girl, he’s had this all planned out. That’s a good sign. He is so into you.” I’m so happy, all I can do is stand there and blush. “A-ha, see?” Riyaan points to my smile. “You liiiiiike him.”
&n
bsp; “Yes, I do rather fancy Jae,” I admit.
Riyaan snorts. “Is that what you call it? Anyway, you have a few hours to kill and I need to go shopping, so come with me. Shop now, draw later.”
I haven’t the heart to disappoint Riyaan, and so with cappuccino in hand, we hit the shops. Riyaan appears to be friends with every salesclerk in town and, clotheshorse that he is, gets deferential treatment. I, however, get ignored, which is better than getting insulted. Being with Riyaan shields me from the cruel remarks and looks which normally accompany my forays into non-plus size clothing shops.
There are a dozen clothing stores in the High Street but Riyaan can’t find anything that suits him. He disappears into yet another dressing room while I stroll through the women’s section. A rich red camisole with sheer over-blouse catches my eye. I glance at the price tag. Ouch.
“What do you think?” Riyaan says, popping out of nowhere in a dark striped button up shirt and black blazer.
“That color would look great on you.”
“What, this?”
Riyaan nods. “Yes, you should get it for your lunch date. Nothing says ravishing like red.”
I drop the tag. “It’s a picnic, not one of Sands’ dates. Picnic, as in casual lunch on the beach, not sex on the beach.”
Riyaan waves aside my view. “I just love that drink. I really should go to bartender school. There’s more money in liquor than coffee. But enough about me. You should try it on, just for chuckles and grins.”
“That depends on who’s chuckling and grinning,” I protest as he takes a couple blouses off the rack and holds them up to me.
“What size do you wear?” he asks.
“Very large,” I reply.
“Yes, but you’ve lost weight, so you’ve probably gone down a size or two.”
I brighten at the thought. “Yeah, you’re right.” I snatch both blouses from Riyaan and look at the sizes. “I’ll give this one a try.”
“What about me?” Riyaan stops my charge toward the dressing room. He turns this way and that, modeling the top and jacket.
“Gorgeous,” I nod.
“Really?” Riyaan looks over his choice. “But you said that about the other top and jacket.”
I shrug. “Can I help it that I have a gorgeous friend with gorgeous taste in clothes?”
Riyaan turns toward a mirror on the wall and studies himself. “Well, since you put it that way.”
I duck into the dressing room to try on the blouse. To my delight, it’s too big.
“Let me see,” Riyaan calls from outside the dressing room.
“It’s too big,” I call back. “Can you get me a size 20?”
“Gotcha,” Riyaan says and half a minute later knocks on the dressing room door. I crack it open a couple of inches while hiding behind it and we trade blouses. This time, it’s a perfect fit. I stand for a minute in front of the mirror, admiring how well I look. I’m still too big for my taste, but the color goes well with my skin tone and the style of the blouse frames my body nicely. And, as it so happens, it matches the capris and shoes I’m wearing.
And then it dawns on me that I’m actually looking at myself in the mirror. I’m not avoiding it or cringing at the woman smiling back at me - smiling.
“I’m waiting,” Riyaan says through the door. I turn and open it. He gasps. “Bella! Girl, I’m telling you -ravishing.”
I’m pleased to get a compliment in a clothing store for once. “Thank you. But,” I sigh, “it’s a little too pricey for little old me.”
“I’ll spot you some cash,” Riyaan volunteers.
“Absolutely not,” I protest. “Thank you, but I really can’t.”
“You mean you really won’t,” Riyaan retorts.
“Fine. Can’t, won’t, it doesn’t matter. I don’t mooch off my friends,” I say, closing the dressing room door.
“It’s not mooching,” Riyaan says through the door. “It’s helping your love life.”
I laugh. “Thank you, Riyaan, but my love life will have to carry on without the blouse.”
He sighs dramatically. “Suit yourself. I’m going to change.”
I change and return the blouse to the rack. Riyaan is already at the checkout counter making his purchases. “Thanks for shopping with me,” he says.
“No problem. It was fun, not to mention exciting to learn that I dropped two shirt sizes.”
He gives me a side hug. “I’m so proud of you. You deserve to be happy and you deserve the best.”
He walks me back to my car, which is parked in front of the gym. I am out of breath from the long walk down the street, but I am not as winded as I normally get. Another victory, I think. After Tiresa’s scathing tirade, I need all the positive affirmation I can get.
“Hope you have fun on your date,” I say, rummaging through my purse for my keys. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, this is a joke. I have the biggest bunch of keys in the universe and I still can’t find them.”
When I finally do find them, Riyaan is holding out a bag. “You didn’t!” I say. “Riyaan, I told you…”
“Happy Birthday!” he cheers.
“My birthday isn’t for another seven months,” I remind him.
He shakes the bag at me. “Think of it as an early birthday present. Now go change your top. Jae’s eyes are going to pop out of his head when he sees you in this.”
I take the bag. “Thank you, Riyaan. You shouldn’t have, but thank you.”
“I live to please,” he winked. “Go ravish him, tiger.”
Flushed with excitement, I hurry back into the gym to change in the locker room. Sands leads an aerobics class but sees me rush by the door. “One and two and I LOVE IT, Bella! and three and five more, ladies, you can do it!”
My watch says 1 p.m. by the time I park my car and walk to the pier. Jae is nowhere in sight. I hate just standing there waiting. I feel anxious while trying to appear nonchalant and inconspicuous, a hard task when you’re big and wearing red.
A group of college-age men approach the pier, joking and laughing. I brace myself for the inevitable snigger when they pass by, but just then Jae appears from the other direction. I smile and wave at him with relief. When I glance at the group as they turn onto the pier, one of them, a tall, husky fellow, looks at my ample bosom and then makes eye contact and winks.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Jae says as he arrives carrying the same picnic basket he took on our first outing. He gives me a side hug. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” I say, glancing back at the group of men. “I’m just not used to getting compliments.”
“Oh? And who complimented you?”
I point. “That tall gentleman.”
Jae looks and pulls me close. “She’s my lunch date, pal. Back off,” he threatens playfully. “Love the blouse, by the way. It looks great on you.”
Grinning ear to ear, I float down to the beach next to Jae. He opens up a big blanket and unpacks the basket. “Since you’re dieting, I kept it healthy,” he explains. There’s fruit and vegetables and chicken salad with lo-cal dressing and,” Jae brings out a container with a flourish, “while I’d like to claim another boxed culinary masterpiece, these fat-free brownies come from the bakery.”
“Aw, thanks,” I say. What a guy! “You picked the perfect day for a picnic,” I observe. The sky is clear, the weather is warm and breeze off the water keeps us from getting too hot.
“Thanks for coming,” Jae responds, pouring us both cups of coffee. “It really was spur of the moment. I like being spontaneous. It keeps life interesting and fun.”
“I agree,” I take the cup from him. “To spontaneity!”
Jae clinks his cup against mine and our fingers brush. “You know, it was my New Year’s resolution to be more spontaneous and impulsive. My life had been so planned out and dry and lifeless that I decided I needed a change.”
“Well, adventure tourism certainly gives you an outlet for change. How’s business been?”
“Aweso
me,” Jae exclaims. “We’ve had several big companies book outings for their employees. And if you can believe it, Simon - do you remember Simon?”
“Couldn’t forget him if I tried,” I reply.
“Yeah, I know, what a suit, hey? Anyway, Simon scheduled a day for him and his apprentices and employees to come out to, and I quote, ‘breathe in the inspiration of nature and draw from the exhilaration of adrenaline in preparation for designing next season’s clothing line.”
I bite my lip. “So bungee jumping and quad biking are supposed to inspire clothing? I am not walking around with a bungee cord attached to me, no matter how trendy it becomes.” Plus I wouldn’t buy Simon’s clothes if they were the only ones left on the planet. I’d rather join a nudist colony.
Jae cracks up. “Yeah, I’m still trying to picture Simon participating, because I have never not seen the man in a suit. I’m fully convinced he’s going to show up in his most expensive Armani.”
“Hope it holds together once he splashes through the creek on a bike,” I laugh, picturing Simon quad biking in a mud-splashed suit. “So why was your life so planned out before?” I said, switching the subject.
His shoulders stiffen as he stares at the water. I get the impression he doesn’t want to talk about it and am on the verge of apologising when he replies. “Ambition, I suppose. My family had high expectations for me to go to university and start a business, then when I married and launched our business, we worked all the time to get it off the ground and keep it afloat. Once we established ourselves, we were so in the habit of working, we never stopped to enjoy life. Even our recreation time and vacations centred on work.”
“That defeats the purpose of a vacation,” I laugh.
“Yeah,” Jae scratches his head. “Like I said, very planned out, no spontaneity. If I wanted to plan something like this picnic with her, I would have to confer with her a fortnight in advance to schedule it in.”