Fat Chance

by Brandi Kennedy

  The pure honesty in what he says shocks me into speaking the truth for the first time. "It's not that at all, Drew, it's me, it's that I don't feel good enough. I don't feel that you can stay attracted to me, that you can want me, at least, not for long. God, Drew, look at me." The heartache of letting these words pass my lips is a real physical pain, and the tears I've been struggling to hold back finally flood and fall away, trailing down my cheeks like rivers of misery.

  "I am looking at you, can't you see? I'm looking at you, the same as I have from the first day, the same as I did when I fixed your tire. And your rejection is crushing me, Cass, but I'm not going to stay angry, and I'm not going to attack you. I'm going to tell you that I miss you, and that I still want you, and that I wish you had more faith in me. But Cass, I'm not going to beg you to be with me. If you change your mind, and you want to talk, please call me, because I want to talk. I want to work it out, and I want us to try again. But I can't make a relationship succeed alone, Cass, you have to be in it too. Think about it, and come around on this. We can do this, if you'll just trust me."

  He rises to his knees beside me, and leans down to kiss my forehead. Then he gets up, and he leaves me there, with my head in my hands, tears leaking between my fingers. When I look up again, he's gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  "You're really in?" Chelsea asks, her eyes widening in surprise. "Wow, I know this is something you need to do, Cass, but I seriously didn't think you'd go for it."

  "Are you sure you want in on it, Chelsea?" Renee asks.

  "Uh, yeah!" Chelsea exclaims, with a light slap on Renee's upper arm. "Renee, Cass has been part of our family for so long, and Rick too, and the whole thing just needs to be stopped. He's ruining her life. I'm in, you know I'm in. I just never expected Cassaundra to really go for it."

  "Well, I'm going for it," I say with a grin. "I can't take it anymore, I'm just sick of it. And Dr. Caswell was right, I'm feeding the wrong dog. Rick is representative of everything miserable in my life, you know?" They nod, smiling like twin bobble-head dolls, and I can't help laughing.

  "Seriously, guys. I've been able to let go of so much, you know? My mom and my grandparents and my father; even before he died, he was dead to me in so many ways. And it was rough for me, growing up with no place that was mine. But you guys created that for me, and I've let Rick spoil so much of it, just because I was afraid to stand up for myself, and I guess there was a part of me that was afraid it would all come out and Janet would be disappointed in me or something."

  "She's not," Renee laughs, shaking her head. "I think she's half the reason Rick is so hateful, having to live next door to her and listen to her talk about you all the time. She's so proud of you, Cass, for growing up like you did and still turning out like you have. You're smart and gorgeous, and dedicated, and the only thing Rick really hates is that you've moved on and he apparently hasn't."

  "Exactly," Chelsea says, leaning over the coffee table to steal a sip of my wine.

  We've just finished dinner, and after making Renee promise not to steal my vase in the middle of the night, we've settled in my living room for the evening. Chelsea has already changed into her pajamas, a pair of silk shorts covered in peppermints with a matching camisole. Fresh from the shower, her wet hair is wrapped in a towel, her face fresh and glowing beneath her terrycloth headdress.

  "Have you talked to your therapist about all this?" Renee asks.

  "I did actually," I answer, leaning forward to snatch my wine glass up before Chelsea can reach it again. Lifting the bottle from the floor beside my foot, I slide it gently across the table to her, laughing as she widens her eyes in mock excitement.

  "He likes the idea, that's when he was telling me the whole wolf thing with the Native American legends. He says I've been trying all this time to fight back, and Rick just keeps coming, so it's time I find some reinforcement. He seems to think you two are perfect for the job, because Rick obviously values you guys, and is more likely to respond in a positive way with you there."

  "And if not, I guess we can always count on mom to lay into him," Chelsea mutters.

  "Have you talked to Drew since the break-up?" Renee asks, tilting her head as she pulls her honey-colored hair over her shoulder and starts to braid it.

  "Only once," I say. "I haven't answered any of his calls or anything, not even when the flowers were here. But the other day I was out running, and he was there."

  "Oh, yeah, perfect time to run into a guy you like, right?" Renee laughs. "When you're sweaty and feeling gross. Unless, you know, you've morphed into one of those women who can feel sexy, even when she's covered in salt slime."

  "Nope, no dice," I laugh, and then shake my head. "The crazy thing is, I felt fine while I was running. For a while, I could even forget about my weight, you know, because my body loves the work of running. I can't explain it other than to say it feels good to me --"

  "Weirdo," Chelsea butts in.

  "Anyway," I continue, rolling my eyes at Chelsea, who laughs at me and pours more wine into my glass. "It's like, being healthier, and smaller, and I feel lighter, and --"

  "Uh huh, on to the Drew stuff," Chelsea says.

  Sighing, I roll my eyes again, and this time, it's Renee who's laughing. "You two are too much," she giggles.

  "Okay, so I'm running --"

  "We've heard," Chelsea mutters, and I shoot her a look while Renee pretends to slap her with a pillow. She sticks her tongue out, crossing her arms in silent promise to listen quietly.

  "I come around the corner, and there he is, and he's running right at me. And he's delicious as always, all muscled and sweaty and fit and, just himself, you know? And I was so happy to see him because I'd missed him, but I just feel like none of it matters right now, not when things are the way they are with Rick."

  Catching a look from Renee, I rush to finish. "I know I'm always going to encounter people who have something to say, people who think I'm too big, or I'm not nice enough, or I'm too nice, or I dress wrong, and I don't act the way they want. I get that. And I don't even know why Rick has grown to this monstrous proportion for me, but I just know I can't take it anymore. Something has to give with this, and it's him or me. I can't keep running into him like this and having him act so hateful, whether he's feeling it or not. You know? Like I can't ask everyone to like me, but I have a right to ask for respect."

  "Yeah that stunt he pulled in the mall was too much. Isn't he crossing the line into harassment or something?" Chelsea asks.

  "Honestly, Chels, I don't know."

  "You should ask Drew," she teases, waggling her eyebrows at me. "Did you guys talk at all, when you ran into each other?"

  "Yeah, we talked a little," I say, smiling.

  "And how was that?" Renee asks.

  "He wants me to get back with him, and try again. He was so angry, you guys, angry because he feels like I'm turning my back on him, like I'm blaming him for Rick or something."

  "Well, aren't you? Kind of?" Chelsea asks, throwing her hands up in surrender as I glare at her.

  "Of course I'm not!" I exclaim, gesturing with my wine glass. "Am I?"

  Renee has been sitting on the floor in front of Chelsea's feet, preferring the firmer surface over my cloud soft living room suite; now she unfolds her slender body and comes to sit beside me on the couch.

  "Maybe you are," she says gently. "Cass, I know you've been so hurt by everything, and you feel like no one but mom and Chelsea and I have ever stuck by you. But you can't push him away, expecting the worst from him. If you do that now, before long, you'll be doing it to everyone you encounter. And you're just too good for that, you deserve someone who loves you. And maybe he can, maybe he does."

  "You never know if you don't give him a chance," Chelsea says.

  "I know, I know," I mutter, my head in my hands. "I just need to handle this Rick thing right now."

  "What about after?" Chelsea asks.

  "Okay." She's relentless; I have to agree. Not th
at I really want to fight it anyway. I really do miss him. "Okay, after. I'll call him when this is over."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The more I attend yoga with Renee and the girls, the more I fall in love with it. I'm invigorated and relaxed all at once, and I can see subtle improvements in each of the poses as I practice them more and more often. I'm proud of myself, which is entirely new to me, and I love it; I can't help being greedy for it, and I seek out new ways to impress myself these days.

  Walking out of the yoga studio, I lock my purse in my trunk and go off down the street on foot. The park I like to run in is only a few blocks away, and I figure that between yoga and walking, I'll be good and warm in the muscles before I reach the park. The walk is invigorating, and as I come through the gates of the park, I'm smiling.

  There's a part of me that's really hoping Drew will be here. I've been saying that I can't let myself call him, that I'm not ready to talk things out until I've dealt with my personal issues with Rick. But if I'm honest with myself, I have to admit how much I miss him, how much I’d loved running into him.

  Stepping onto the path, I quicken my pace and get into a good jog, letting my body adjust to the new speed, my eyes combing the path for signs of Drew. I don't see him, but what I do see brings me to a grinding halt. Stepping off the path to make way for other runners, I lean back against the trunk of a tree and watch.

  They walk together, hand in hand, slowly making their way along the path. They talk; they laugh. Occasionally, she leans into him and he drapes his arm over her shoulders; she gazes up at him, keeping both hands on the stroller in front of them, keeping it balanced. As they come closer, I lean forward and pretend to retie my shoe, sneaking a quick peek at the little boy in the stroller.

  He's probably around a year old; he has a river of drool running down his chin, mixing with the dissolved mess of the graham cracker he has clutched in his fat little fist. He smiles at me, and his tiny teeth wink in the sunlight, somehow clean despite the crust surrounding his full lips.

  I smile back, helplessly charmed.

  "He's beautiful," I say to his parents; aching as they thank me and continue on. As an only child, orphaned at an early age, I have spent great chunks of my life secretly wishing for a family of my own. Janet and the twins have become family to me, but I crave the strength of a partner, and the sweetness of a child. It strikes me to the core, being faced with the perfection of a tiny child, reminding me that time is passing while I cower in self-conscious fear.

  Picking up my pace again, I try to ignore the direction my thoughts have gone.

  That could have been me, someday soon. Drew wanted me; and like a fool, I sent him away. And he hasn't called since I saw him. Maybe he gave up, and that's that. Maybe I shouldn't wait for the Rick thing to be over, maybe I should stop putting my own life on hold. Maybe I just need to stop this and call him.

  Tossing off the entire issue, I focus on my run, speeding along the pathway. Still, as I reach the end of the path and turn to head back to my car, I pass that little family again. This time, the mother is walking carefully with her son, his tiny hand tucked gently into hers as he concentrates on each careful step. The child's father walks behind them with the stroller, smiling proudly upon his offspring.

  The ache comes rushing back, and as I walk back to my car, my mind is racing. I never wanted to hurt Drew, but I know that I have, and in that process, I'm hurting myself. I miss him; I miss talking to him, and sitting with him. I miss the amazing dates he thinks up, the silly jokes he makes. I miss the possibility he represented, the possibility he seemed to want.

  "Screw it, I'm calling him," I mutter to myself, unlocking the trunk of my car and reaching inside. My stomach does a little flip of anticipation as I slip the phone out of the bag and scroll down to his name.

  "Cass?" he answers, warily.

  "Drew. I think I'm ready to talk now," I say, opening the car door and slipping into the driver's seat. I lay my purse in the seat beside me, and shut my door, turning the key in the ignition.

  "Okay," he says. "I'm listening."

  "I'm sorry, Drew, I really am. I didn't mean to hurt you, and --"

  "I know all that," he interrupts. "Just skip that whole part, because I know you enough by now to know you had some reason for whatever all this is. And I don't need you to humble yourself or grovel or whatever; I'm not that kind of guy. Just tell me what's in your head, and then tell me that you want us to keep trying."

  "I did tell you, Drew, I told you it's this mess with Rick, and I just feel so confused about myself. One day I'm feeling great, and I can look in the mirror and see something great. The next, I'm a mess again. I think I just had put so much trust in Rick as my friend back then, and it's hard to turn that off, even when he's being horrible. I can still see the good in him, you know?"

  "And it throws you off. But what about me? Do I wait for him to turn into Mr. Nice Guy? Or isn't there enough good in me to make you want to try this?" he asks.

  "Of course there is, and I want to try again. I think I just need closure on the whole thing, and I've got plans in the works for that. I've kept his abuse to myself all this time, and I haven't really told anyone but you, and Dr. Caswell. But I've told my sisters now, and they've offered to confront him with me. One way or the other, this mess will be behind me soon, and I feel like then I can move on."

  "And?"

  I lean my head back, still sitting in the parking lot of the yoga studio. Taking a break, I close my eyes and give myself permission to take a risk. "I'd like the moving on to be with you, Drew. I do want us to try again; I just don't want my issues with Rick to poison us any more than they already have. We have a family dinner set for this weekend, and he'll be there; it's when I'm going to confront him."

  "I want to be there," he says, and I freeze, my eyes popping open.

  "Drew, please. The whole problem with this is that I need to prove to myself that I can handle it."

  "Surrounded by family?"

  "They won't be there because I can't go it alone. They'll be there because I've allowed him to say vile things to me in secret for almost a decade now, and they have had no idea about any of it. They'll be there because when I clear the air with Rick, I want to expose what he's been doing, so he is forced to honestly deal with who he's become. Maybe I hate him for what he's done to me, Drew, but he's the only brother I've ever had, and he's a part of what I see as my family. I owe myself the confrontation, but I still owe him the gift of privacy."

  "That's fine, I get it," he says, grudgingly. I know he's not happy, but I'm thankful for his choice to respect what I've said. "Call me when it's over, and I'll be there."

  And then he's gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Sitting on Janet's couch, I sip my wine and wait for the door to open. Renee thinks that Rick will probably try to deny everything when we confront him, and it will cause the situation to not be resolved. Her solution is to leave me alone with him, hoping that he says something. She and Chelsea are with Janet in the kitchen, being as quiet as possible.

  I've just settled back into the cushions of the couch when the door finally opens and he comes breezing in. He stands for a moment in the doorway, still and quiet, listening; I listen too, praying no one sneezes in the kitchen.

  Satisfied that we are alone, he turns to me, and walks over to stand over me. I look up at him as calmly as possible, and wave the goblet in my hand. "Well there you are. The star of the show," I smile.

  "No, sweetheart, I'm never the star. I'm just the frog, remember? You've always been the piggy."

  "Right, I remember." Taking a sip of wine, I place the goblet on the table and gesture the chair beside me.

  Lowering himself, he asks, "Where is everyone? I thought we were supposed to be having a family to-do or something."

  "We are," I answer, trying not to be smug. The only cars in the driveway are Janet's, and mine, because I picked the twins up and brought them with me, giving me an excuse
to be alone in the house with him. "Renee and Chelsea ran Janet to the store, she's out of some stuff she needed for dinner."

  "Oh, wow, you've been here all day then huh? Cleaning out the kitchen for Janet? Eating everything up?"

  "Well you know me," I answer. "I come hungry."

  "Please," he scoffs, propping his feet on the coffee table. Janet has always hated this; he's only doing it because he thinks she isn't home. "You come hungry? You could sit here and eat yourself half to death all day long, and you and I both know you'd still leave hungry. A pig is a bottomless pit."

  "Well, that may be so," I mutter. "But really Rick, it's been 'piggy' this and 'piggy' that for years now. Can't you be original sometimes? I mean, there are lots of other offensive animals to compare a woman to. You know, there's the elephant, and the hippo --"