by Ali Parker
I pushed the sad memories to the back of my mind. Instead of Carlie, I thought about Leila. I hated to think of her alone. She said she had no one. I hoped that was an exaggeration. I hated to think of her doing what I was doing. I thought about texting her again but didn’t do it. She had seen my message and hadn’t replied.
I needed to leave it alone.
Chapter 25
Leila
We were crazy. I knew we were crazy, but it never stopped us. The best sales, sales that paled in comparison to the Black Friday sales, were the day after Christmas. It was a tradition for me and Kami to get up early and hit the stores, scooping up some great deals. It was one of the few days of the year we were both off.
We trudged our way into a sea of people all with the same idea. Kids were hyped up on Christmas candy, waving gift cards around and acting like they had won the lottery. I stepped around a crowd of blonde kids that were all shouting at their poor parents at once. The noise level in the Target we had walked into was just below that of a rock concert.
“I think I would take them one at a time,” I said to Kami as we walked by.
“No kidding. That would give me a headache. Those are some brave parents.”
“I think I would rather shop online,” I said.
She laughed. “I don’t think those kids think that is nearly as fun.”
“Then I would drag them out at midnight. It’s like herding cats. That mom looks like she could use a stiff drink and it’s barely noon.”
“When I have kids, I think I’m going to stop at two,” she announced.
I glanced at another mother trying to wrangle her brood. “I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a mom. Do they come already grown?”
“You want kids. At least, you used to want kids.”
“That was before I turned thirty-three and discovered I was still single with no prospects.”
“Are you sure there aren’t any prospects?” she questioned.
“Yes, I’m sure. Positive.”
“So, you’re avoiding the other topic. I’ve asked you and you always change the subject.”
“What subject is that?”
“The Christopher situation,” she said picking up a box of ornaments on clearance.
I sighed. I had refused to talk about it in front of her mother yesterday at dinner. “He texted. I didn’t reply.”
“What? Why not? Dammit woman!”
I shrugged. “It’s just not right. I need to focus on me. I don’t need the distraction.”
She groaned. “Focus on you? Seriously?”
“Yes. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because you have been focusing on you for thirty-something years. You know you. You don’t need to focus on you anymore. You got you. It’s time to start thinking about you with someone else.”
I shrugged, pretending interest in Christmas decorations. “It’s too much work.”
“Good sex with a good man isn’t exactly work,” she retorted.
“It isn’t just sex. It is far more complicated than that. I just can’t see me checking in with someone or planning my life around what someone else wants or needs. I have been alone most of my life. I’m used to doing what I want, when I want. I wouldn’t make a good girlfriend. I’m too independent. I’m stuck in my ways. I like to sleep in and go to bed early. I’m not exactly a party person. I think I’m really just one of those people who is meant to be a forever bachelorette.”
“Bullshit.”
I had been mulling over the hundreds of reasons why I couldn’t be with Christopher. I had a great list of reasons why it would be bad to mess around with a guy like Christopher. I refused to acknowledge the list that would be in favor of being with him.
I couldn’t. It was too tempting.
“Let’s go to that new store,” I said.
“What store?”
“The women’s clothing store, the high-end one.”
She grinned. “Okay. I’ve been dying to check out the shoes.”
I laughed. “You are such a contradiction. You have this tomboy image, but you are a secret shoe lover.”
She shrugged. “A girl can never have too many shoes.”
I shook my head, leaving behind the discount Christmas decorations and following her out of the store. We moved down the sidewalk, carefully moving around the throngs of people who were taking advantage of the day off and carrying on with the holiday celebrating.
I pulled open the door, gesturing for her to go in first. As I walked into the store, I could practically smell the expensive price tags. It was very high-end and nothing like I normally wore, but I had a sudden urge to step outside my boring box of teaching clothes. I wanted something a little sexier, a little more fashionable.
“Look at this,” Kami whispered, picking a little black dress from the rack.
“Gorgeous!” I exclaimed.
A woman with a nose that was actually turned up approached us. “That would look lovely on you,” she said to Kami. “Would you like to try it on?”
Kami looked at it. “No, I’d like to look around a bit.”
“We have some dresses over here that would look great on your figure,” she said.
I felt like I was invisible. That wasn’t a feeling I got very often. “What about business casual?” I asked.
The woman looked at me, her eyes moving over my body. “I’m not sure if we have anything that would be suitable for you.”
I smiled, hiding my humiliation. “I understand.”
“There’s a lovely shop a few doors down that caters to larger women. I’m sure you’d find something there.”
“I suppose I would,” I said in a tight voice.
Kami was already looking at some other dresses and hadn’t heard the exchange. I joined her, looking over my shoulder at the woman who was looking at me with obvious disdain. She was acting like my fatness was contagious, like it would somehow spread to the itty-bitty clothing and make everyone who touched it fat.
Part of me wanted to snatch a few things from the racks and take them into the dressing room. I smiled imagining what the woman would do if she saw me attempting to stuff my thick thighs into one of the tiny little skirts. I picked through the racks and wasn’t surprised to see the biggest size I could find was an eight.
I hadn’t been a size eight since eighth grade. It was very clear I would not find anything for me in the store. The woman wasn’t lying. She was being honest. Blunt and lacking any tact, but she was only telling me the cold, ugly truth. The shop didn’t sell normal women’s sizes because they didn’t fit the mold of beautiful.
They didn’t want women like me darkening their door. It would ruin their image. That part I didn’t mind rebelling against. I liked the idea that the saleswoman was uncomfortable with me pawing through the items they sold. I glanced up, catching the stare of another woman working behind the register. She looked like she was physically in pain as she stared at me. I ignored her and turned my attention back to my friend. I didn’t want to ruin Kami’s shopping and pretended to be interested in the clothes, smiling and offering my opinion when she held up a cute blouse or pretty dress.
The woman was never far away, always chiming in and offering her opinion. Kami frowned, looking from me to the woman. “She’s been looking at things and you’ve said nothing about what she’s pulled.”
The woman shrugged. “We don’t carry her size.”
I saw the look on Kami’s face and shook my head. “Don’t,” I whispered, knowing her very well.
“You don’t carry her size?” Kami said in a deadly calm voice. “I’m sorry, did you happen to check the back of her pants when we weren’t looking?”
“No, but I don’t need to see a tag to know we don’t carry sizes that large.”
“That large?” Kami repeated her voice a low growl.
I could feel my cheeks burning. “Kami, let’s go. It’s fine.”
“No, this woman owes you an apology,” she hissed, st
epping towards the woman, who was several inches taller than her. Kami was an intimidating woman. She had an air about her that said she could kick your ass without breaking a nail.
“It’s fine, we’ll go,” I said, grabbing Kami’s arm and gently pulling.
Kami wasn’t finished. “You are a bitch. A complete, total, stuck up bitch. We will never spend a penny in your shitty, overpriced store. We will tell everyone we know what kind of business you run here. Apologize.”
“I’ll do no such thing. Quite frankly, I don’t think we have anything that is suitable for either of you. This is really not the place for cowboy boots.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” Kami spat. “Your clothes suck. No self-respecting Texas woman would ever want to wear your flimsy clothing.”
“Let’s go,” I said again, growing more embarrassed.
I hated making a scene. I hated being the subject of a scene. I wanted out. I was used to being called fat. I was used to the looks from other judgmental women who assumed I was nothing more than a depressed woman who sat around eating all day. They didn’t know me. I had quit caring what they thought about my size years earlier.
We walked out of the store, my cheeks still burning. “That bitch!” Kami exclaimed, gaining more looks from passersbys.
“It’s not a big deal,” I told her, already looking forward to the next store.
“It is a big deal. She was totally rude. That’s discrimination, you know.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Discriminating against fat people?” I said with a laugh. “I don’t think that is a thing.”
“Everything is a thing! You could totally sue them for that. And you’re not fat.”
I smiled. “Thank you, but I don’t want or need to sue anyone. I’m never going to be everyone’s cup of tea and I’m okay with that. I wouldn’t want to buy anything from someone like that. I don’t want to sue them and give them any free advertisement.”
She shook her head. “I’m tempted to go back in there and give her a piece of my mind.”
“Let it go. It serves no purpose. Let her think what she wants. I would never fit into those dresses and even if I did, it would not be a flattering look.”
She was quiet for a few minutes. “I’m sorry.”
I opened the door to another one of our favorite clothing stores that did carry things in my size. “For what?”
“That you have to deal with people like that. You’re beautiful. Gorgeous, smart, and so much better than how that woman treated you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that, and your opinion matters a million times more than hers.”
She grinned. “Good. Now, can we sue the shit out of them? Just think, it would send a message to all the other uptight places that their kind of snotty discrimination isn’t fair.”
“No. I don’t have time for that kind of nonsense and the last thing I want to be is the face of some fat woman parade. I like my anonymity. There are always going to be people like that in the world. Let them figure out they are horrible on their own. I believe karma will get them all eventually.”
She was shaking her head. “You are way to okay with this. I still want to claw her eyes out and slap that ugly smirk off her face.”
“You’re a violent woman. Let’s look at the Christmas angels. I think you need a little angel in your life.”
She cursed under her breath but didn’t say anything more about the situation at the store. It did hurt but I was not going to dwell on it. My butt wouldn’t fit in the tiny clothes they sold. I should have known better before I even walked in the place. I would have liked to have been able to at least pretend I could wear the things without the dirty looks.
Chapter 26
Christopher
I didn’t want to jinx it, but things were going well for Olin and I. He’d barely thrown an attitude in days. He hadn’t put up a fight when it was time to return to Conroe. It was like we had turned a corner and we were on track to have a good relationship.
I was thrilled with the progress. It made me even more confident I was doing the right thing by choosing to focus on him instead of dating. I was still tossing around the idea of going back to school. I had been studying the catalog of classes and was confident I could pick up a couple and still have plenty of time to devote to Olin.
He’d been chatting with some kids from school and seemed to be a little happier. He wasn’t a barrel of sunshine and rainbows, but I never expected him to be that way. Angst was part of a teenager’s life. If he was too happy, I’d worry he was on drugs.
I picked up the dirty dishes from his late-night snack and carried them into the kitchen, stuffing them in the dishwasher before going into the laundry room to grab the clothes from the dryer. I was getting the hang of the domesticated thing, but still not quite ready to dive into being totally independent.
I scanned the contents of the refrigerator and thought about making brunch for the two of us. I had kind of been getting into the idea of making meals and had dusted off my cooking skills that had been sitting dormant over the last twenty years. I had always enjoyed cooking, but when Carlie and I married, it seemed to be something she enjoyed more.
But not just then. I didn’t want to cook. I grabbed the orange juice and poured a glass before moving out to the patio. I felt like I spent a lot of time out there. It felt good to be outside. I didn’t mind the chilly air. It made me feel alive.
Olin came out, standing barefoot on the cement and drinking juice. “You’re always out here.”
“It’s nice out here. Refreshing.”
“I guess,” he mumbled but made no move to go back inside.
“You want to go into town and grab some breakfast?” I asked him, not expecting a positive response.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
Again, I had to hide my surprise. I had expected a growl and some grousing about how he had things to do. I was going to take advantage of every minute the kid gave me. I was going to appreciate it and not second guess it. I kind of liked that he didn’t have a busy social life. It meant I got to keep him all to myself for just a little longer.
“I’ll change,” I said, noticing he was probably as dressed for the day as it was going to get. He was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a hoodie, which had become his standard attire. It seemed to be the uniform for all the boys his age.
While changing, I checked my Google maps for restaurants in the area. I found one that looked promising and claimed to have the best biscuits and gravy in Texas. We were about to find out. Olin’s face was glued to his phone the entire ride, which was nothing new. I had grown used to it.
The restaurant had a country feel but a heavy price tag. The waitresses all wore black slacks and white shirts with a red checkered bandana tied around the neck. It was country meets classy. I liked it and decided it was going to be one of my regular places—assuming the food matched the atmosphere.
“Biscuits and gravy?” Olin repeated.
“It sounds good,” I said.
He curled his lips. “It sounds heavy.”
We both ordered the signature meal, ready to dive into traditional Texan cuisine. Ready, but slightly skeptical.
“How was the movie last night?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Fine.”
“Who did you go with?”
His shy smile told me at least one of the people he’d gone out with last night was a girl. He shrugged a shoulder. “Some girl I met at school and a couple of other guys.”
I played it cool. “Is she nice?”
“She’s all right. She’s funny.”
“All right? Like will you be going out with her again? Is she attractive?”
He scowled. “Of course.”
I grinned. “Of course,” I said with a nod. “So, you will be going out with her again? Alone? Do you need some extra money to take her out to dinner?”
“Actually, yes. It’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t need money for a date though.”
I nodded, happy to know he was willing to talk about his social life with me. In the back of my mind, I was dancing and spinning and cheering for myself. “What’s that?” I asked.
“She invited me to a party,” he said hesitantly.
“What kind of party?”
“A New Year’s Eve party,” he clarified. “A bunch of kids from school will be there.”
My gut clenched. “Is this going to be a party that includes drinking?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know how they party here.”
My first inclination was to tell him no way. I didn’t want him at a party where there would be underage drinking. That always led to trouble. I had been sixteen once and I knew what I had done when I’d been drunk. I wanted to spare Olin the same grief from the mistakes he was sure to make. I wanted him to be able to learn from my mistakes.
I knew that wasn’t possible. Kids had been repeating their parents’ mistakes for centuries. “I’m glad you’re making friends,” I started.
“But,” he said with a disgusted tone.
“But are they the right friends?”
“They are friends. You’re never going to like any of my friends.”
“That’s not true,” I argued. “I liked some of the friends you had in Minnesota. I don’t like the kids that influence you to do things you know you shouldn’t.”
“How do you know I’m not the bad influence?” he retorted.
I shrugged. “I guess I don’t know that, but I do know you’re smart and you know the difference between right and wrong. That will always lead you to make better choices than those who choose to ignore common sense and what they know to be right.”
He rolled his eyes. “Can I go or not?”
“Will there be parents there to supervise?”
He groaned. “No, dad! I’m sixteen, not six.”
“Olin, teenagers are probably worse than toddlers when left alone,” I told him.
“We’re not going to stick our fingers in light sockets. We’re not toddlers.”