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“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.
“Boxer.” Wendy slung her purse forward and opened the top flap. “Here’s a picture.”
“Awwww!” Of course he was adorable. “What a darling little puppy!”
“He’s going to be dead little puppy if we leave him much longer.” Carrie snapped her fingers. “Let’s go!”
“She’s the one who insisted we stop,” Wendy said to me, rolling her eyes. “Now she’s in a big hurry.”
“Oh, there’s my dad.” It still felt a little strange referring to Ben as “my dad.” I called him Ben when we were together—if I called him anything. I tried not to let it come up.
“That’s your dad?” Carrie raised her pierced eyebrow. The pink streaks were back in her hair again. “Niiiiice. If I swung the other way…”
“Oh shut up.” Wendy put her croissant down, gulping the rest of her coffee. “Let’s give Sara and her dad some privacy.”
“About time!” Carrie waggled her fingers at me and I waved back as they left, passing Ben on the way.
“Friends of yours?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from me. He was wearing a suit, ready for work.
“Yes.” I watched them walk past the front window and disappear around the corner. “From high school.”
“Whoa, what happened to your eye?” Ben frowned, reaching over to touch my cheek. I winced—it hurt. He looked at his thumb where he’d touched the bruise. “Makeup?”
“Oh.” I covered my cheek. I’d forgotten. “I… stupid, I was on a stool in the kitchen and I slipped. Hit it on the edge of a cupboard.”
“Hm.” He nodded, still frowning.
How many times had I heard my mother give excuses like that? I’d learned from the master.
“So how is the new place?” I asked, changing the subject. His company had moved him up from Florida—they even packed it all!—but his house hadn’t been ready so they set him up in an apartment temporarily. Now he was finally moving into his permanent house.
