AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I was early to Cuppa Joes and was glad for the time to put my head back together. I went to the bathroom first to wash my face. My eyes were red from crying. I knew Chrissy’s words weren’t the truth, not the deep, real truth—but they had enough truth in them to sting. I was a mess and I looked it. I hadn’t even showered. And I had the beginnings of a pretty good shiner under my left eye. I peed and ran a comb through my hair and put on what I hoped was enough makeup to cover any bruising. Feeling slightly better, I went back out into the coffee shop.
I picked a table in the corner, hoping to hide until Ben arrived, but when I looked up as the bell on the door rang, I saw Carrie and Wendy coming in. I didn’t wave to them but they spotted me anyway, making a beeline for my table.
“Hey, what are you doing here without your other half?” Wendy slid into the seat across from me. Carrie grabbed a chair, turning it backwards and straddling it.
“Oh I’m just meeting a friend.”
“Is that code for having an affair?”Carrie raised her eyebrows at me.
“No!” I blushed. I hadn’t told many people about Ben yet. Aimee and Matt. Josh, at work. And John—but I’d asked him not to tell Chrissy. Why give her any more ammunition than she already had? “I’m actually meeting my… Dad.”
Wendy sat back in her chair and Carrie did a double-take. I realized they must be thinking of the stepbeast, so I had to redirect them with an explanation. While I was telling the strange, coincidental story of Ben finding me because of the picture in the paper, the waitress came over and we all ordered—coffee for them, hot chocolate for me. Plus muffins and scones and croissants.
“And he moved here?” Wendy shook her head, incredulous.
“Well, he was already moving here,” I explained.
“Makes it even weirder,” Carrie said through a mouth full of blueberry muffin. “Did you tell Aimee?”
I nodded, blowing across the top of my hot chocolate. It lived up to its name and was always too hot to drink right away. I wondered if Aimee had told them her big news, but my question was answered by Carrie’s next statement.
“That poor girl is never going to make it to the end of her pregnancy. My mother is going to be the death of her.” Carrie had succeeded in eating the entire top of her muffin and was now peeling the paper off the sides.
“What do you mean?”
“The minute Aimee told the family she was pregnant, my mom started watching what she eats like a hawk. She’s such a fatphobe.”
“Homophobe too,” Wendy interjected, sipping her coffee, a croissant in her other hand.
“But she’s pregnant,” I interjected. “You’re supposed to get fat when you’re pregnant!”
“You should hear my mom.” Carrie rolled her eyes. “’You don’t want to use this as an excuse to eat junk, dear.’ I keep telling her to knock it off but every time I turn around it’s all, ‘No ice cream for you, we don’t want any fat babies in this family!’”
“Are you kidding me?” I put down my hot chocolate and decided to work on my scone.
“Just because we’re all long and lean she thinks the whole world should be that way.” Carrie put the entire bottom of the muffin into her mouth. When she chewed, she looked like a chipmunk.
“Poor Aimee.” I made a mental note to call her. Our senior year had been the perfect storm of disaster. I had to drop out because of my pregnancy, and then Aimee had gone into treatment for her eating disorder. I was so grateful they let her come when I went to the hospital or I wouldn’t have had anyone there with me at all. I knew Aimee was sensitive about her weight—she probably always would be—and it sounded like her new mother-in-law was pushing all her buttons.
“”Okay, done.” Carrie gulped the rest of her coffee. “Are you sure you brought the shot records, Wen?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Wendy rolled her eyes, still nibbling on her croissant.
“Shot records?” I asked, finally able to sip my hot chocolate.
“We got a puppy.” Carrie grinned. “It’s our moving in together present to ourselves.”
“You’re moving in together?” I exclaimed. That was huge—Carrie’s mother didn’t know she was gay and Wendy’s parents—well they didn’t care if she was much of anything.
“We’re ‘roommates,’” Wendy said, making air quotes with her fingers.
“Come on, I don’t want to leave him in the car too long.” Carrie was practically bouncing in her chair.
“I’m not done!” Wendy protested.
“What kind of puppy?” I asked.
