Because Fat Girl

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The last stragglers of the night were saying their goodbyes when Jaqueline cozied up next to me on the patio outside, throwing the arm not holding her cane around my shoulders.

“Listen, darling, you know I love you, right?” Her speech was slurred slightly from the evening’s free-pouring champagne, and she had a goofy smile on her face.

“I do now.” I smiled back, leaning into her embrace.

“So then you know it comes from a place of love when I tell you this.” She turned me to face her fully. “Either shit or get off the pot.”

“Excuse me?” I laughed, wondering what the hell she was babbling on about.

“You’ve spent the whole night making sad puppy eyes.” She nodded toward her son, who was helping the caterers pick up discarded champagne flutes. “So either do something about it, or get over it. Because this moping-around-at-your-own-party thing is just a waste of a good outfit.”

“I wasn’t moping around,” I objected.

“You weren’t living it up, either,” Jaqueline countered. “You two have played this dance long enough. I think it’s high time you do something about it.”

“Even if that were true—” I began.

“Which it is,” Jaqueline interrupted.

“ If it were true,” I continued, “that’s not why I’m sad tonight.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you sad tonight?”

I sighed, sitting down on the outdoor sofa.

“Oh, we’re sitting then, are we?” Jaqueline said, making her way down next to me. “Oh yes, that’s much better. Now, tell me everything.”

I tried to explain my fight with Cecily the best I could, without delving into decades of family history and sisterly competition. Jaqueline was a great listener, nodding along with me and responding when needed. It felt good to talk to her, like a no-nonsense therapist who put everything in perspective in the most empathetic way possible. Even tipsy, she was kinder and more insightful than either of my parents had been. Jaqueline was in the middle of giving me some sage advice when Kali walked up.

“I’m heading out, Jaq.” Kali bent over to give Jaqueline a hug.

“Kali, dear, have you met Diana?” Jaqueline asked.

“We met earlier,” Kali confirmed, smiling at me. “Great party.”

“It was all Shamaya and Chris,” I admitted.

“It was all Veara and Bradley,” Kali corrected.

“Too true.” I laughed. Chris and Drew would both be lost without their assistants.

“Kali, dear, sit for a bit.” Jaqueline patted the sofa next to her. The pop star smiled and did as she was told. “Now, tell me who was that gorgeously tall woman with the fabulous style I saw you talking with tonight.”

Kali laughed, a deep belly laugh. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“You’re evading the question,” Jaqueline said.

Kali looked at me, then down at her hands, then back up at Jaqueline, her face flushed. “Her name is Emmy.”

I perked up at the name. What were the chances of two tall, fashionable women named Emmy being at this party?

“Oh dear.” Jaqueline patted Kali on the hand. “So you’re back together, then?”

“Back together?” I asked, surprised.

“Oh yes, they’ve been in love for years,” Jaqueline drunkenly confided in me. “All you young kids and your tormented on-and-off-again love. Just fuck each other already, like we did in the seventies.”

Kali and I exchanged glances and both cracked up laughing, Jaqueline joining in.

“I am hungry!” Jaqueline stopped laughing to yell at the remainder of the guests in the backyard. “Who else is hungry?”

“Mother, why are you shouting?” Drew questioned as he walked over to us.

“Because how else will I get you to listen?” Jaqueline replied, smiling as she held her hand out. Drew took it and helped Jaqueline lift herself off the sofa. “I have a plan.”

“Oh, this ought to be good,” Drew quipped.

“Shush, you.” Jaqueline swatted at him. “Now, where is that lovely blond who owns this place?”

As if summoned by her words, Chris appeared in the doorway and started heading toward us, Simón Barboza—who had overseen the catering—following close behind. “Jaqueline, did I hear you yelling?”

“How else is a lady supposed to get any attention around here?”

“You’re no lady.” Chris stepped back as Jaqueline playfully swiped at him with her cane. “What did you want?”

“For you to put all of those culinary classes to good use and make us a picnic to eat out here.” Jaqueline pointed upward. “My stars dining together under the stars.”

Not eager for this evening to end, I offered to help Chris and Simón in the kitchen while Jaqueline, Kali, and Emmy searched the house for blankets to sit on. Janelle, Shamaya, Bradley, and Veara joined us, and we snacked, chatted, and laughed, the lights of Hollywood sprawled out before us.

It wasn’t a cold night, but there was a chill in the air, and I cozied up to Drew, enjoying his body pressed against mine without the pressure of wondering where our touching would go. Jaqueline gave us a pointed look when he wrapped his arms around me, and Shamaya raised her eyebrows seductively when Drew wasn’t looking, but I appreciated that no one said anything. Not that anyone had a right to talk; Emmy and Kali were snuggled in one corner, and I swear Chris and Simón were holding hands under a blanket at one point. Even Shamaya and Janelle were platonically snuggling with Bradley and Veara. It was just that kind of night.

“All good things must come to an end.” Jaqueline sighed as the sun began to rise on the horizon.

Yawning, we said our goodbyes, and all of us headed out except Simón, who apparently was crashing at Chris’s house tonight. Not for the first time, I wondered if Chris wasn’t as straight as his media persona wanted everyone to believe. We were starting to be good friends (shockingly), and I knew if I asked he would be honest with me, but I figured if he did sleep with men, he would tell me when he was ready. Besides, I didn’t have any room to pry, seeing as Drew and I were holding hands as we walked out of the party.

“You know, my house is closer than Arcadia.” Drew pulled me into him. “I’d hate for you to fall asleep driving out there.”

“I should go home.” I sighed, really wishing I could throw myself into Drew’s bed right now and forget that my actions had consequences.

“You could stay in the guest bedroom,” he offered. “My mother can be our chaperone.”

“She’s doing a great job so far.” I pointed to Jaqueline, who was standing with Shamaya and Janelle, all of them making loud kissing noises at us.

“My mother is so mature sometimes.” Drew chuckled.

“I enjoy her very much.”

“She’s a pain in the ass.” Drew smiled. “But she’s a great mom.”

“As much as I’d love to spend more time with both of you, I have to go home and take care of some things in my own family.”

“Everything okay with Cecily?” Drew asked. “I noticed she left early.”

“It will be,” I said, hoping I was right.

I gave Drew a hug good night, kissed Jaqueline and Shamaya on the cheeks, said goodbye to Kali and Emmy, and thanked Veara and Bradley for all of their hard work making tonight perfect. Dropping Janelle off at her house, I wondered if I was actually too tired to drive home, and if I should just stay at her place and think about my sister later, but I knew the longer this fight festered, the worse it would get.

It was fully morning by the time I got home, and Cecily’s music was playing loudly from inside her garage-turned-studio. Hesitantly, I opened the door and peered inside. My sister was painting furiously, working on an abstract piece that was mixed chunks of our brother’s face. When she’d started it, she said she wanted to cut him up to bring him back to life, like the doctors had tried to do. His face was mangled and mutilated, barely recognizable, but the eyes were unmistakably Henry’s. Her hands worked rapidly, mixing and treating paint, throwing it up on the canvas, angry brush strokes attempting to recreate our brother. My throat caught as I realized Cecily was listening to the mix we’d made for his funeral. She was deep in it today, and I wondered if it would be better to just leave her alone.

My hand was on the knob, about to leave, when she spoke. “Am I that big of an embarrassment to you that you have to hide me?”

“You’re not an embarrassment.”

“So then why did you hide me?” she asked, turning around and looking at me.

“I don’t know, I just…” I tried to figure out how to succinctly explain the complicated reasons why I didn’t want Cecily near Drew or Chris. “Everyone always loves you.”

“That is not true,” she denied.

“You don’t see it, because you’re you.” I motioned up and down her body. “Thin, beautiful, artsy. Perfect hair, fashionable clothes, just the right amount of wild. You’re that twee ingenue everyone dreams of being or dating.”

“Only assholes want to date me.”

“No, everyone wants to date you,” I argued. “You just choose the assholes.”

“Glad you think so highly of me.” She folded her arms tightly in front of her.

“I think the world of you. I wish you’d think better of yourself and stop settling for dickheads who treat you like shit.”

“So you hid me from Drew Williams because he’s an asshole?”

“No, Drew’s actually a really great guy.”

“If he’s a great guy, wouldn’t you want me to meet him? Isn’t he exactly the kind of guy you keep insisting I need to go out and find?”

She was right. If I set up a profile of the guy I wanted for my sister, Drew would fit it perfectly. He was a total catch, the whole package: friendly, socially conscious, rich, famous, and good-looking. Drew was perfect for Cecily. Problem was, I wanted him for myself.

“He’s not right for you,” I insisted.

“If you don’t think I’m good enough to meet Drew Williams, that’s fine. He’s a famous movie star who is too busy to meet people like me. I get it,” Cecily said in a tone that told me she did not actually get it. “But what I don’t understand is why you hid his existence in your life from me. I thought we got over this kind of lying and playing games years ago.”

I couldn’t answer her. I didn’t know how I’d let my relationship with her get so backward again. When I was a kid, I used to keep everything from everyone, especially my popular sister. I hid my body, I hid my sexuality, and I hid my marks of self-harm, until I was so caught up in my own web of lies that I couldn’t breathe. The school psychologist had called them panic attacks, but my parents insisted it was asthma, pulling me out of counseling and handing me an inhaler instead.

In college, I finally found someone to talk to, a therapist who was also queer and fat like me, someone who got it.

“What truth are you holding back?” she would ask me when I was on the verge of jumping headfirst into the depths of despair, my heart racing and breath impossible to catch. Answering that question was the key to my survival.

It was time to tell Cecily the truth.

“I didn’t…” I started, my throat catching. I reminded myself that I was safe with Cecily, that we’d been through worse than jealousy and a crush. “I didn’t tell you who Andy really was, because I knew you’d insist on meeting him. And after you met him, I knew I’d lose it all.”

“What do you mean, ‘lose it all’?” Cecily implored.

“You know what I mean.” I glared at her, pain and shame rising in me. “Please don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“Unfortunately, you’re going to have to,” she said, annoyance in her voice, “because I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You know how hard it is for me, standing next to you,” I started, and tears began streaming down my face. “You know how hard it is to be the fat sister, the weirdo who is queer in every sense of the word. What did that asshole in high school say? We’re like ‘beauty being related to the beast.’”

“Maybe he meant you were the beauty,” she countered. “Ever think about that?”

“You know damn well I’m the beast,” I spat.

“I’m sorry he said that, but that’s not my fault,” Cecily argued.

“Please, you purposely made that gap even wider between us. You loved boys’ attention and flaunted your body any time you could.”

“You think it’s fun for me, hearing people tell me all the time how smart and talented you are?” she retaliated. “Everyone had high hopes for you, the drama nerd who would go off to Hollywood after high school. But me, all I was good for was arm decoration for football players.”

“At least you were safe from their taunting,” I shot back. “The guys you dated were some of my worst bullies, and you just sat back and let them do it, safe in your thin, straight privilege.”

“Yeah, I was really safe with their groping hands and lack of consent.”

“At least you were deemed fuckable!” I yelled, instantly regretting my words, wishing I could take them back.

Shit . Shit, shit, shit, shit. Why the hell had I said that? Why did I always have to jump so far over the line? Was I so insecure that I had to throw away basic human decency just to one-up my sister? God, what had I become?

“I am so, so sorry,” I apologized, coming over to Cecily, grabbing her hand. “That was a horrible thing to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She pulled her hand away from mine, pain and disgust on her face. “You need to leave this house, now.”

“You want me to move out?” I’d really crossed the line this time, and I didn’t blame her for wanting me out of her house, but I wasn’t ready to leave, especially not like this.

“I’ve told you since you moved in that this is your home, too,” Cecily said coldly. “I can’t kick you out of your home.”

“You could tell me to go and I would have to,” I replied. “Your name is on the mortgage. Your things fill the rooms. Your life is permanently here. I was always just a temporary lodger.”

“I won’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “The kids will be back from their father’s on Wednesday. Be home in time to kiss them good night.”

“Okay.” I stood up and walked out, knowing the least I could do was give my sister the space she asked for.

“And, Diana,” Cecily called after me as I reached the door. I turned around to face her, daggers glaring out of her eyes. “Don’t ever fucking say something like that to me again.”