Whomight be the better question.
I forced my smile to brighten, which made Sierra edge away from me. My counterfeit cheeriness only served to freak her out. If I started grousing my opinions on any certain topic, she’d probably begin to relax.
Crime-a-nitally. Drew was right. Sierra was uncomfortable with the idea of fun but was perfectly content embroiled in a debate.
I needed to change. For Sierra. To model for her that it was okay to not live quite so rigidly. To bend ideals and compromise from time to time. But how? Mama had spoon-fed me impossible standards and expectations in the highchair, and my personality more than leaned toward passionate boldness. How could I be who Sierra needed me to be so she could still enjoy her childhood and grow up a well-rounded human being, while also staying true to who I was as a person?
The ringtone on my phone blared from my purse. Bless whoever was calling for saving me from my existential crisis. I dug past my wallet and Burt’s Bees lip balm until my fingertips grazed the smooth surface of the cell’s screen.
Greg’s name lit up in color, and the beauty of a reprieve turned to ashes. Wishing I had the skin of a nine-banded armadillo, I tapped to accept the call. Greg’s face whooshed onto the screen.
He hadn’t changed much since the first time I ran into him in college. Some extra creases running the length of his forehead and a few lines fanning his eyes, but those were the only features that marched along with the drums of time. His hair still curled in thick waves instead of receding like I silently wished, and he hadn’t added on a single potbelly pound.
The same couldn’t be said for me. But women laid their bodies on the altar of sacrifice when they grew a tiny human in said bodies. Skin stretched. Organs shifted. Hips widened. Weight was gained—I ran my sweaty palm on the outside of my leg—and not easily lost.
Though, Chelsea from human resources and her perfect size-two body couldn’t relate to stretch marks and a layer of flabby skin around the middle that just sort of flopped on the mattress when you lay on your side. She also probably didn’t have to worry about peeing a little if she sneezed too hard.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I disliked her more for those reasons or for stealing Greg.
Then again, no one could be stolen from a relationship if they didn’t want to be someplace else in the first place. So, bladder control and clean underwear topped the dislike list.
“Hello, Nicole,” Greg intoned.
“Hello, Greg.” We’d agreed when we divorced that we would be civil. For Sierra’s sake. Took all my self-control at times.
“May I speak to Sierra, please?”
I walked back down the hall. “Just a second.”
Sierra placed the last marker back in the package, and I held out the phone to her. “It’s your dad.”
Her eyes brightened as she reached for the cell, holding the screen up to her face. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, pumpkin.”
It almost hurt—a true physical pain—to watch her talk to him. I loved seeing her light up. But the dimming and disappointment when he let her down was a knife to my heart. I could only hope this time would be different. That he’d show up or follow through with whatever promise fell too easily from his lips. Turning his back on me and our marriage was one thing, but he needed to work harder to maintain his relationship with his daughter.
“Guess what? Coach Drew said I throw the meanest spiral he’s ever seen. He’s going to have me play starting quarterback!” Sierra didn’t squeal—she wasn’t that type of girl—but she did radiate excitement.
“That’s amazing. When’s your first game?”
“You shouldn’t eat those.” Mama leaned her hip on the counter, Sierra and Greg’s conversation playing in the background.
I took a bite, the bitter and not-too-sweet chocolate substitute melting on my tongue. “Relax. It’s ethically sourced carob. Not chocolate harvested by child slave labor on the Ivory Coast.”
“I didn’t mean that, although it’s good to see I’ve raised a socially conscious daughter.” She looked pointedly down to my size sixteen hips. “I meanthat. A moment on your lips, forever on your…” She sashayed to prove her point.
Don’t mind that I was vegan and put more fruits, veggies, and whole grains into my body than anyone else I knew, or that I stayed away from highly processed foods in general. Because of my pants size, I must have atrocious eating habits and be judged for a sweet indulgence. That wasn’t even that sweet! It was carob for goodness’ sake. Car-ob!
The conversation reminded me too much of the extra fries incident with David Brown. People needed to stop making assumptions and silent accusations about me and my body.
“I can’t right now with this, Mama.” I scooted around her and plopped myself into a dining chair. Not close enough to be in the camera frame of the phone, but close enough to listen in on the conversation. I needed to know of any promises Greg made so I could remind him and spare Sierra another disappointment.
“So you’ll really be there this time? You promise?” Sierra gripped the phone in both hands.
Greg laughed like Sierra’s repetition in asking was adorable and in no way a reflection of past experience. “I said I would, sweetheart. How could I miss my girl’s debut? I can’t wait to see you kick all the other kids’ butts.”
“Or learn about dedication and teamwork and sportsmanship,” I muttered under my breath.
