Because Fat Girl

Chapter Fourteen

Janelle and I analyzed every bit of my interaction with Drew in the kitchen until the car dropped us off at her house. We thanked the driver and got out, saying a quick goodbye before I hopped in my Subaru and hurried home, blasting Alabama Shakes and singing along with Brittany Howard to keep myself awake and distracted.

“You missed pancakes,” Ellis yelled from the garage when I got home.

“I hope you saved me bacon!” I yelled back, searching the kitchen but coming up short. I walked into the studio to ask Cecily where the bacon was but only found Ellis and Reggie there. “Where’s your mom?”

“Crying in her room,” Reggie said in her matter-of-fact tone.

Ellis pointed to the clock. “She said we couldn’t come get her until the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the one.”

I left the kids to paint and headed down the hall, knocking gently on my sister’s door. “Hey, it’s me.”

“Come in,” her weary voice replied.

“What happened?” I demanded, my heart stopping. Since Henry got sick, I panicked easily, expecting all news to be bad. Back then, every phone call was a new disappointment, another bit of hope lost as the cancer spread to other parts of his body and he ran out of options to stop it. Then the ultimate bad phone call. I was there when he died. Cecily was hundreds of miles away, and we couldn’t get ahold of her. I’d called and called and called and worried someone else would get to her before I could. When she finally answered, she said, “Please let it be Poppo…” and we cried, because it hadn’t been our ailing ninety-two-year-old grandfather who had died that morning but our vibrant younger brother.

We buried Poppo four months after Henry. Another shitty set of phone calls I’d had to make.

“Fucking Greg.” Cecily broke down into sobs. Selfishly, I sighed with relief. Ex-husband issues I could handle.

I sat down next to her. “What did he do this time?”

“He gets all the fucking credit while I do all the work. Did you know he showed up for the volunteer breakfast at school on Friday? He didn’t volunteer once this year, but he shows up and goes to the front of the line, all important-like, saying he’s got some big meeting to go to, so he has to eat first. Those bagels are for volunteers only, you prick! I should know because I woke up early to buy them. Because I actually help out around the school.”

“God, I hate male entitlement.”

“And this morning I got an email saying he wants to pay me less alimony.” Cecily sobbed. “Says I should get a real job, that he needs to save up for the giant wedding his new fiancée is planning. The poor girl—I wouldn’t wish him on anyone, even a blonde. He had the audacity to suggest he start taking the kids half-time, which is only a fucking ploy to pay less child support. The nights he has them he just puts the kids in front of their iPads while he watches football. The cheap bastard doesn’t want them more. He just doesn’t want to pay me more. I gave up my career to follow him around the country going from job to job; that motherfucker can pay for my lost wages.”

“Prick,” I spat, glaring at the hole in the family portrait by Cecily’s bed that used to be his face. I’d cut it out a few weeks after moving in. No point wasting a perfectly good photo simply because he was in it. “Did you know I have him in my phone as Fuckwad Shitface Turdbrain?”

“You do not,” Cecily sobbed.

“I do! I’ll show you.” I pulled up her ex-husband’s contact in my phone and Cecily laughed so loudly that Ellis came rushing into the room.

“What are you laughing about?” they asked.

“Your face!” I pulled them into me.

“Your butt!” Ellis squealed as I tickled them.

“Your mom’s butt!” I shot back.

“Your mom’s butt’s face!” they yelled.

Reggie ran into the room to see what she was missing, and Cecily grabbed and threw her on the bed with us, making a pile of giggling tickle bugs squirming around. The kids wiggled away from us and ran back into the studio, shouting about finishing their painting of poop emojis.

“I’m sorry Greg is such a dick,” I began, lying next to Cecily in her bed, “But unless he wants to take you to court, he can’t make you give him more custody. And he’s too cheap to pay for a lawyer. I’m sure this will pass and you’ll be okay. Whatever happens, we have each other.”

“Unless you leave me for your new boyfriend,” Cecily threw in.

“What are you talking about?” My heart stopped, wondering how Cecily knew about my confusing feelings for Drew.

She pulled Star Watch, her favorite guilty pleasure gossip website, up on her phone and handed it to me. Right there on the homepage was a photo of Chris Stanson leaning forward to kiss an anonymous plus-size woman in a silver, sparkly dress.

“Oh god, I totally forgot about that,” I said, mortified.

“How do you forget about kissing Chris Stanson?!” Cecily sounded incredulous as she grabbed her phone back.

“We aren’t kissing!” I snatched her phone again to look at the image. “I was leaning in so he could hear me.”

“It looks like you’re fully making the moves on him.” Cecily zoomed in on the photo.

I had to admit, it was a good shot, taken at just the right angle, at just the right moment. It looked like I was cornering him and forcing him to kiss me.

“Ugh.” I sighed, seeing a comment that read, “Shamu tries to eat off Chris Stanson’s face.” I handed Cecily her phone, not wanting to see any more. The responses to this photo would be horrible. I knew it like I knew Reggie would throw a fit every time I asked her to eat a vegetable. The internet is full of babies who protest against anything different or new, and trolls had a special hatred in their hearts for fat people.

I really didn’t want to be known as the woman who attacked Chris Stanson at a restaurant, which was how the gossip websites seemed to be framing it. Fat women were always portrayed as desperate and insatiable, molesting everyone and everything around them. Even rides like Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland played into this horribly biased trope. First, no one was bidding on the fat woman, even though everyone else was crying and she was standing there with her hands together, smiling like a good subservient wife. Then you floated into an area where all the thin women were being chased by men wanting to assault them, and the fat woman was chasing a man wanting to assault him. Or at least you did until they changed it all to be slightly less offensive. But still, the impression it left on me as a kid remained: thin women had to run away from the danger of men who wanted to violate them, fat women had to chase men who would never consensually want them. As if men were any less of a threat to us. As if they didn’t speak of our assaults like a goddamn favor.

I didn’t want to be seen as either. I wanted out of that narrative completely. I wanted to create a new narrative where women weren’t chasing or being chased by men, but instead chasing their own dreams and careers. The women in my stories rescued themselves and each other, just like Cecily and I had done.

“Oh god, please tell me Chris Stanson’s bed is not where you were all night.” Cecily’s question brought me back to the present. She dramatically threw herself back on her bed before prodding further. “I don’t think I could handle my jealousy if you slept with him.”

“Don’t worry, we ditched him at the restaurant.” I lay down next to her.

“Why were you with him again in the first place?” she asked. “And more importantly, why didn’t you invite me along?”

“It was Andy’s mother’s birthday party. They know Chris.”

“And who is Andy?”

“Someone I met at the LACMA party.” I knew one day she’d find out Andy was Drew Williams, and there was no point in building a bubble around him since it would someday have to burst. I just wasn’t ready to talk about him to my celebrity-obsessed sister. Drew Williams the star felt otherworldly, as unrealistic as the action hero characters he played. The Andy I’ve been getting to know still felt real, like someone tangible that I could touch, had touched, and maybe wanted to touch again. I didn’t know where this thing with Drew would go, but I knew it was too early to let Cecily near it.

“You’re living the glamorous Hollywood life.” My sister sighed. “Going to fancy galas, attending birthday parties with famous stars. And I’m over here doing laundry and cleaning spilled mac ’n’ cheese off the floor.”

“Yes, because living in my niece’s bedroom in the suburbs is living the dream,” I countered.

“I don’t know, this looks pretty dreamy.” Cecily pulled back up the photo of Chris Stanson and me. “I think I’m going to print this out.”

“Oh god, please don’t.” I got up and headed back out to the kitchen to eat Serena’s “breakfast” container. She hadn’t lied; this bread was delicious, the best gluten-free loaf I’d had in a while. I took another bite, wondering how expensive it would be to get Serena to make it for me every day.

…

Two days later, I was cleaning up breakfast with Cecily when my phone rang.

“Fry Guy? Who’s that?” she said, picking it up.

“A friend.” I reached for my phone.

“Is it Andy?” She held it out away from me. “It is, isn’t it? You’re so into them! I remember you having this look on your face when you first met Sam.”

“I do not have a look,” I lied.

“Don’t go falling for them hard like you did Sam, okay?”

“They are not Sam,” I replied, grateful Cecily was used to me using gender-neutral pronouns for people in my life.

“I’m not saying they are,” she said. “I just know that look and don’t want you ending up back where Sam left you.”

“I’m not the same person I was back then,” I reminded her.

“I’m not saying you are.”

“Then what are you saying?” I asked.

“I guess I’m telling you to be careful.” She handed me back my phone. “We both know you go off the deep end when you fall for someone.”

“I didn’t realize my heartbreaks were such an inconvenience for you. How unthoughtful of me since your relationships have never impacted my life, ever.” I threw my arms around at the house.

“You don’t have to be an asshole. I’m just asking you to be cautious. For both of our sakes.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry, because Andy is just a friend.”

“Sure, just a friend.” Cecily rolled her eyes pointedly down at my phone, where I had two new texts from “Fry Guy.”

I stared at the screen, confused. “I wonder what’s up.”

“I don’t know, maybe you should call them back and find out.” Cecily’s tone told me she was as annoyed with me as I was with her.

I sighed. I did not want to spend my day off fighting with my sister. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was being an asshole. But so was she. We were both assholes, in the way only siblings got to be. We were raised by alcoholics who settled everything with verbal fights, the winner being the one with the sharpest barb. We hadn’t learned to apologize. No one taught us how to make amends. We would all just retreat to our corners to lick our wounds until Henry inevitably made a joke to cut the tension. But Henry wasn’t there anymore, and he never would be again. Without him, I didn’t know how to end an argument. So I stayed silent and opened my texts.

Call me back when you can.

It’s about the film .

I bolted up. Drew wasn’t checking in about our moment at his house, like I’d awkwardly assumed. He was calling about the movie. My movie. Was it good news? God, I hoped it was good news. I needed some good news. Nervously, I dialed him back.

“Hi, Diana,” Drew answered, sounding both anxious and excited.

“What’s up?” I tried to sound casual, but my voice cracked with nerves.

“Chris showed your script to Silvia Cortez at Focus,” Drew began. “She wants to meet with us on April first.”

“Holy shit.” I gasped.

“Nothing is set in stone yet, but we have a meeting, and that’s a huge first step.”

“But who’s involved?” My mind flooded with questions, unable to process it all. “What are the terms?”

“That’s what we’ll talk about in the meeting.”

I pulled up my calendar. “I have to work at Roussard’s that day.”

“Not anymore you don’t,” Drew said.

“This is really happening?” I asked.

“Looks like it,” Drew replied.

I stood there for a moment, the phone still up to my ear, unsure of what else I was supposed to say to this man who had swept into my life and started making my dreams come true. “Thank you,” I croaked out feebly.

“All I did was make a few calls,” Drew answered humbly. “The rest was you.”

“I wouldn’t be in that meeting without you,” I insisted.

“Yes, you would have someday.” Drew sounded full of confidence. “I only helped make it go faster.”

“Thanks for getting me in the door before I’m too old to appreciate it.”

“I believe in you, Diana, and I believe in this script.” Drew paused briefly. “Speaking of which, I’m sending over some edits Chris and I had. They’re minor, but we’re moving some bits to the top that we think would grab Silvia’s attention.”

I was nervous at the idea of Chris and Drew messing with my story, but I promised to keep an open mind. We solidified a few more details before Drew hung up, and I stood there staring at my screen in disbelief.

In a daze, I made my way to the garage where Cecily had started setting up her painting supplies. “Oh no, bad news?” She saw my face and came rushing to my side, concern making her forget our disagreement.

“I have a meeting on April first.” I dazedly looked up from my phone to her. “With an executive at Focus Films.”

“What?!” Cecily squealed. “With that look on your face, I thought someone had died. Why aren’t you more excited?!”

“It feels too good to be true,” I admitted. “I keep waiting for the catch.”

“Maybe the catch is that this family has suffered enough and we finally deserve a win!” she said, jumping up and down.

“Oh my god.” A smile crept up onto my face. “Oooohhhh. Mmmmyyyy. Gggooooooddd!” I screamed. As I stood there letting the situation sink in, Cecily ran over to her computer and started playing our favorite celebration song.

Salt-N-Pepa’s “None of Your Business” came on, and we sang loudly, laughing and dancing around the house until we fell into a pile of exhausted excitement on the sofa.

“What if I did wanna take a guy home with me tonight?” I asked, thinking about Drew and our almost-kiss.

“That would be so weird.” Cecily snorted.

“The correct answer is, it’s none of your business,” I said.

“I’m your big sister. Everything you do is my business,” Cecily asserted, throwing her arm around me. “I figured you knew that by now.”

“I thought that just applied to me breaking the rules in school or not doing the dishes.”

“Oh no, big sisters rule over everything. Just ask Reggie.”

I chuckled as my eyes made their way to the carefully crafted chore board Cecily and Reggie had made for our house, their chores all marked complete while Ellis and my chores were only about a quarter done. My eyes caught on a photo next to it, and I stood, walking quickly over to the corkboard.

There, next to our chores, was a printed copy of the tabloid photo of Chris Stanson and me kissing, except Cecily had photoshopped her face in place of mine. “What is this?”

“I was wondering when you’d notice that.” Cecily laughed.

“You are ridiculous!” I yanked the photo down and threw it at her.

“You’re hanging out with celebrities now, making movies with them, being all fancy and famous. Let me at least have my Chris Stanson crush, okay?” She got up and pinned the photo back on the board.

“What if I was actually kissing Chris Stanson?” I asked.

Cecily scoffed. “Please.”

“What? It could happen!” I was offended at how easily she dismissed the idea.

“If it was Tessa Thompson or Kate McKinnon, maybe I’d believe it, but you’re too queer for me to take the idea of you and Chris Stanson seriously. Can you even imagine you and some straight dude like him? He’s basically everything you hate.”

“And yet here I am, hanging with him while all you have is a photoshopped picture of you two kissing,” I threw at her.

“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Cecily pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. For a moment I felt more like her daughter than her sister. “I’m so, so, so proud of you. Your movie is getting made! That’s amazing! You obviously can do anything you want. Including dating Chris Stanson. I think it’s funny because you’re so gay and he’s so straight, that’s all.”

“It would be funny.” I pulled away from her. “Dating a man.”

“Hey, if you wanna take a guy home with you tonight, it’s none of my business.” She smirked at me. “And guess what?”

“What?”

Cecily pulled me up from the sofa, grabbing my arms and jumping up and down. “Your movie is maybe getting made!”

“My movie is maybe getting made!” I screamed, jumping with her, the excitement contagious.

“I’m so damn proud of you!” Cecily hugged me so hard I thought my eyes would pop out of their sockets. We weren’t perfect, and we disagreed all the time, but Cecily was my person, and it felt great to celebrate this with her.

“Now, the important question,” she said, a giant smile on her face. “What are we going to wear to the Oscars when this wins?”