by Mary Smith
“Peas? I don’t think I’ve heard that one.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve never been picky.” I haven’t met a morsel of food that I don’t enjoy. “You can tell though.” I fake giggle.
“Why do you say negative things about yourself?” He sits his fork on the table and stares me down.
“I don’t look at myself negatively. I’m fat. I’m a fat girl. I love food, and I don’t know how to stop eating.” I can feel the anger bubbling up. The anger is there because I’m embarrassed. They seem to go hand-in-hand for me.
“I don’t like when you call yourself fat or fat girl.”
“But I am,” I state the obvious and even hold out my arms to show him.
“You’re not fat, Maxima.” His tone is gruff, but he drops the topic and moves on to the wine I picked out. Next is hockey and then his workout and training routines.
When we finish our food, we both decline desert, and Remington pays for the dinner. As we’re walking out, he holds my hand. Yes, it’s a small touch, but it’s something comfortable.
The ride home is peaceful. We don’t say anything, but there’s something soothing about it. I like when we’re quiet together.
Remington parks in the garage, shuts it off, but makes no move to get out. “Maxima, will you do me a favor? I know I ask a lot of you, but this one is personal for me.”
I turn in my seat and face him. “What is it?” I’m in the middle of his other favor and don’t know what else he would want from me.
“Please stop calling yourself fat. You’re a beautiful woman with a rocking body. I hate you look down on yourself. I’ve never met someone who has brains and beauty until I met you.”
I gaze down at my hands in my lap. He’s just trying to be nice. I know he doesn’t mean any of it. Or maybe I’m just annoying him? I bet that’s it.
“I’m tired.” I rush out of the car and head inside. I spot Dacey at the kitchen table, reading from her kindle.
“Hi.” She smiles.
“How was Arabella?” I ask, hearing Remington come up behind me.
“Great. I checked on her a little bit ago, and she’s fast asleep,” Dacey explains.
“Thanks, Dacey.” Remington walks around me and hands her some money, but she shakes her head.
“It’s fine. I don’t need money.” She picks up her kindle and purse.
“Dacey,” he says her name firmly.
She sighs and reluctantly takes the money from his hand, thanking him.
“I’ll walk you out,” I announce and head toward the front door. “Thanks again, Dacey.” I smile at her, opening the door.
“Anytime.” She nods, and I watch her go out to her car.
When I shut the door, I kick off my now uncomfortable heels. I turn, almost running into Remington’s chest.
“May we finish our discussion?”
“I’m tired,” I lie. “I’m going to bed.” I rush past him and jog up the stairs to my room.
My current mood does not include discussing my perceptions of me.
Caryn stares at me as I continue to pace her office. She calls my pacing a tick. Whenever I’m over anxious or need to think something through, pacing helps me. Plus, I talk more when I pace.
“Because he asked you to look at yourself differently, you ran away?” Caryn asks.
“Pretty much.” I walk around the couch again. “He only went out to dinner with me to show people we’re a couple. He doesn’t love me.” I push my hand through my hair.
“He likes you though.”
I stop. “No, he does not. I’m convenient for him.”
“Maxima.” Caryn shakes her head. “You really do look negatively on yourself.”
“No, I don’t,” I almost shout. “I look in the mirror and see how fat I am. I know how much I love food, plus I’m an emotional eater. I know I can’t control my portions, even though I try to, and sometimes I win the battle. These are the facts. Plain, true facts.” I stomp my foot, as if it will help propel my point across.
“Calm down, Maxima.” Caryn’s tone softens. “Tell me what else you see when you look in the mirror.”
“Nothing,” I answer. “I see nothing else.”
“I can tell you’re lying.”
I stop pacing again and sit back down on the couch. “I see a fool.”
She’s quiet, and it means she wants me to go on, but she doesn’t want to verbally push me to talk.
“Part of me hopes Remington will fall in love with me. I thought with us living together, and me playing housewife and mother, he would see what a good person I am.” I close my eyes, praying the tears don’t fall. “The worst part is I’m really excited when I go to his house. I love how he cooks and they’re waiting for me to eat dinner as a family. I’m falling in love with a sham, and when I do leave, it’ll hurt so badly. I’ve grown attached to Arabella. You know I’d always hoped for a family and kids.” I open my eyes, but I don’t look at her, just the floor.
“Maxima, you will get everything you want. You’re smart, strong, and good-hearted.”
I nod, even though I know she’s just trying to be nice.
Spin class?
I send a group text to Harlow and Meadow. I need to work off some of this excess anxiousness built up in my veins.
I’m in. Harlow answers first.
Sure. Meadow is next, and I smile because I know she hates spinning, but comes whenever I ask.
I call Jackson, my boss, and let him know I’ll be taking a personal day. He doesn’t sound happy, but I don’t care. There’s no point in going back to work; I had to leave early to take Arabella shopping for her dance outfits. I received the list of items she needs yesterday, and she’ll start tomorrow.
I drive back to the house to change and grab my gym bag. But when I open my closet door all my clothes are gone. I look around my room and everything seems to be gone.
“I moved it all to my bedroom.”
I spin around to see Remington leaning against the doorframe.
“I didn’t move your personal items in the drawers.”
“Thanks.” I nod. “I’ll do it tonight.”
“May I ask why you’re home early?”
“I had an appointment this morning and it ran over. So, I took a personal day and am heading to the gym with the girls. Then I’ll pick up Arabella from school and take her shopping.”
He nods as I stroll past him to the master bedroom. I have been in here a few times before now. It’s a masculine room with white walls, navy blue trim. His bed is massive, and I’m thankful because I’ve never slept with anyone. I’m not sure how I’ll react.
“Your stuff is here.” He opens the closet door.
Like everything else in the house, it’s a huge walk-in. Remington has arranged my clothes in perfect color coordinated order.
“Thanks,” I mutter and grab a pair of sweats and a large t-shirt. I head straight for the master bathroom and change.
When I walk out, Remington is still standing in the bedroom.
“I’d like to talk to you.” His voice is sad.
“I’m going with the girls. Later, okay?” I rush out of the room and out to my car.
I turn up the radio loud to help drown out my thoughts. I don’t want to think about Remington or my weight right now. I definitely don’t want to think about what will happen when I have to leave Arabella.
The spin class is almost full, but I see Harlow and Meadow in the back saving me a bike.
“You look stressed out,” Harlow comments as I climb out the stationary bike.
“Long day.” I shrug and keep my face forward.
Thankfully, the instructor starts, and we don’t talk for the next thirty minutes. My legs are burning, and I have to keep wiping my brow, keeping the sweat out of my eyes. I remain focused the entire time, and I’m pretty proud of myself. Generally, there are times I can’t keep up, but I do my best. This time, I did.
When the class ends, I listen to Harlow’s joking wi
th Meadow, who has the hardest time with jelly legs after spinning. I have the same issue, but Meadow isn’t very coordinated. Harlow suggests we go to the juice bar. I should pass since I need to shower before I go pick up Arabella, but water sound like a better idea.
Meadow begins to talk about her latest book. I wish I had creative talents or was able to put thoughts onto paper like Meadow who’s an author. However, Meadow’s talent is amazing, and she has carved out a successful career.
Harlow goes on about her editing jobs and how Dacey is saving her from going insane. Then she starts in about her hot, sex life with Keaton, but thankfully Meadow stops her before Harlow gives us all the details.
“How’s the family?” Harlow asks.
“Fine. Today, I’m taking Arabella shopping because she’s starting dance classes tomorrow.”
“And Remington?” Meadow grins.
“Great.” I lie, of course. It shouldn’t come this easy to me. It just makes me an even worse person. “But I need to get going. Thanks and we’ll do a girl’s night soon.” I jump up and head out before they can ask more questions.
Again, I blast music to drown out my thoughts. I need to focus on getting home, getting Arabella from school, and then taking her to the store.
When I walk into the house, it’s quiet, and I assume Remington is out. I jog up the stairs to the master bedroom. Well, I guess this is my room, temporarily, until his parents leave.
He had left open the drawers that would be mine, and I quickly grab my items from the other room and place them in the drawers. Remington has arranged my bottles and makeup the way I had in the other bathroom. Just the way I like it. It’s sweet he went to all the trouble. I jump into the shower, reveling in the numerous showerheads massaging my body. I could spend an obscene amount of time in here, but I’m too busy today.
When I finish, I quickly dry my hair, do my makeup, and throw on a pair of jeans and shirt. I slip into a pair of peep-toe boots and head out, only to find Remington sitting on the bed facing the bathroom door.
“Hi.” He grins.
“Hi.”
“Do you mind if I come with you two?”
“To shop?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mind. I figured you were busy.” I didn’t know what his training schedule was like or if he’d be too exhausted.
“Maybe we can grab some dinner.”
“Great.” I walk around the bed and grab my purse. “Ready?”
“Sure.” He stands. “I’ll drive.”
I follow him out to the garage, and he holds the car door open for me. I’m waiting for Remington to say something about our dinner last night or the favor he asked me, but he says nothing the entire way to the school. The couple of times I glance at him, his eyes are straight ahead, focused on the road.
Pulling up to the school, I spot Arabella standing by her teacher and a few other classmates. She only has a couple weeks left of summer school, and she’s been doing great. I’m so proud of her.
“I’ll get her,” I say, hopping out of the car.
“Max!” Arabella yells and races to me, wrapping her arms around my hips.
“Hey.” I giggle. “Are you ready to go shopping?”
“Yes.” She bounces around me.
“Come on. Let’s get in the car.” When I open the door, she squeals when she sees Remington.
“Daddy!”
Remington chuckles. “Hi, honey.”
“Are you going shopping with us?”
“Yes, I am.” He smiles.
I slide into my seat and look back to make sure she’s all buckled in.
“I’m ready, Dad,” she announces and Remington drives off toward the mall.
Arabella begins to tell us all about her day and everything that happened. I give the girl credit: this eight year old never misses a detail. She then begins to tell us all about how much she’s going to love her dance classes.
When we reach the mall, she holds both of our hands as we make our way to the store. I pull up my list from the email the instructor sent me and begin to read it off.
“That’s a lot of stuff,” Remington says as we make our way through the store.
Arabella gets excited with each item we pick up and even tells the cashier as we check out. Remington carries the two large bags as we head out of the store.
“What’s next?” Arabella skips around us both.
“I have a surprise for Maxima,” he states, making us both stop.
“What?” I ask, racking my brain as to what kind of surprise he has planned.
“Come on.” He begins heading toward the other side of the mall.
“Come on, Max.” Arabella takes my hand and practically drags me to catch up with Remington. “I love surprises.”
I don’t like them.
I keep my mouth shut as we head toward the high end of the mall. At least that’s what I call it. He seems pleased with where were going as we head to the second floor of the department store.
“We’re here for Sharon.” Remington speaks to the woman behind the customer service desk.
“Yes, sir.” She picks up the phone, and I assume she’s calling Sharon.
He turns back to me and grins. He really can make my heart stop, but I rein my emotions in as a gorgeous, super-thin, blonde with a bright shiny white smile comes toward us.
“Mr. Rosin, we spoke on the phone. I’m Sharon.” She holds out her hand, and he shakes it.
“This is my daughter, Arabella and my fiancée, Maxima Keck.”
Sharon shakes my hand as well as Arabella’s. “It’s wonderful to meet you both. Now who I am helping today?” She’s still beaming.
“Maxima.” Remington places his hand on the small of my back and gently pushes me toward Sharon.
“Wait, what?” Confusion pulses through me. Who is this woman? I don’t know who she is.
“She’ll need a whole new wardrobe. My magnificent fiancée has lost a lot of weight, and she needs to show off her amazing body.”
My mouth falls open, but no words come out. Why would he tell a stranger about my weight loss?
Remington looks over at me. “Sharon’s a personal shopper and stylist.” He smiles and answers my unasked question. “Arabella and I will wait by the dressing room.” He takes his daughter’s hand. “Oh, Sharon, my future wife has a high profile job as well. She’ll need some power suits.” He winks at me before leaving me with the blonde.
“Ms. Keck?”
I turn back to her. “I’m sorry, pardon?”
“I asked if you’re ready. We can start over here.” She’s still smiling.
“Um…sure…yes.” I follow her to the first rack of clothes.
She’s talking fast, pulling things up to show me, but I’m not sure what to say. I’ve never been in this kind of situation.
“What are some colors you like?”
“Black and gray.”
Her smile falters a bit. “Well,” she pauses, and then her smile makes an appearance again. “Let’s try some new colors and see what you like.”
I suddenly feel like a fool right now. I wish Harlow were here. She knows a lot about fashion, and I have no clue what I’m doing.
“A size ten?” She looks me up and down.
I shake my head. “I’m more of a fourteen.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know sizes, and you’re a ten hiding in size fourteen clothes.”
“I don’t like tight clothing; I have fat rolls,” I lean in and whisper. Not like she can’t see how fat I am.
“I promise you’ll look fabulous. Let’s just try a few things.” She gathers several items, and I reluctantly follow her. Remington and Arabella are sitting in a chair together playing on his phone. He looks up and smiles.
I’m not sure what to do. I don’t feel like smiling since this feels like an ambush. Remington has made a few comments about my clothes or outfits being too large, but his comments from the other night are ringing
in my head.
Although, I’m mad right now…well…embarrassed too. This skinny thing is trying to tell me I’m a size ten. I know there’s no way.
Sharon opens the dressing room door. “Just step in, and when you’re done, I’ll hand you the next one or we’ll grab a different color or whatever you need.”
She sounds so bubbly; I quickly wonder how many espressos she has had today. I simply nod and take the first outfit from her.
When she shuts the door to the room, I take a deep breath. This is insane. I’ll just try one outfit and call it quits. I remove my clothes, but I don’t dare look in the mirror. The stretch marks and hanging saggy skin all makes me want to puke. It’s why I’ve never owned a full-length mirror.
I pick up the pink blouse and look at the tag. Size large. What a joke! There’s no way this tiny piece of material is going to cover all this fat.
I close my eyes and pray the blouse doesn’t rip as I try to get it on. I slide one arm in and then the other.
Okay. So far so good.
I began to button the blouse and hope I don’t have an unsightly gap at my disgusting breasts. But, for some reason, it seems to fit right on my body.
Must be a fluke.
I pull the black slacks off the hanger and check the tag. Size ten. Another joke. I push one leg in and then the other. My knees are weak as I easily button them.
What the hell?
I know I’ve been working out more, but a size ten? I slowly lift my eyes to the full-length mirror, and instantly, I panic. I don’t look too horrible. Well, not as horrible as I normally do.
“Ms. Keck, how’s it going?” Sharon asks from the other side of the door.
“Fine,” I call out. I turn to the left and right, checking myself out.
My breath is taken away. I close my eyes and take three deep breaths the way Caryn taught me. With each breath, I’m supposed to think of three good things about myself. Most of the time, nothing comes to mind. Actually, nothing ever comes to mine.
With my last breath, I open the door to Sharon’s blonde, skinny self standing there.
“See, I said a size ten,” she states with pride. “Anything you don’t like?”
“Um…no…” I quietly answer.
“Great. Here are several more outfits, jeans, and two suits. Just come out with each and I’ll make sure to adjust anything you need.”