WHEN I GOT home that night, Mom was at the kitchen table, bent over a stack of papers, and Aiden sat in a chair farther down, working on homework. I could see Dad through the glass doors of his office, surrounded by bulging manila folders.
Perfect. I could escape upstairs and wipe my makeup off without having the conversation about my change in appearance tonight. (I didn’t want to ever, but knowing my mom, it was coming.)
I quietly closed the door and began creeping over the carpet when Mom’s voice cut through the silence. “Rory! I have your prescription.”
“I’ll get it tomorrow,” I tried, keeping my face toward the stairs. “You should take it tonight,” she said, then rattled the bag.
My shoulders sagged. I could have stalled, said I’d be down after using the bathroom, giving me enough time to wash off the makeup, but she was my teacher and my mom. She’d see it eventually. I kept my head down and walked toward the table, hoping my curls would cover my face. I reached toward the bag and took it, but Mom said, “Stay, talk a while.”
“I have homework…”
“Pull up a chair then, right, Aid?”
He made a noncommittal sound that told me he wasn’t paying attention in the slightest.
I took a seat on the same side of the table as Mom and said, “Grading papers?”
She hurriedly stacked her work into a haphazard pile and turned it over. “A project for the school.”
“Oh, how was…” I could see it as it happened, her eyes catching sight of me, expecting to see plain old Rory Jane and instead seeing a stranger. “Are you wearing makeup?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I looked down at the table, not wanting to make eye contact.
Not wanting to see her reaction.
“Why?” She seemed genuinely confused. “Did you get it from my room?”
“Just trying something new,” I said and hoped she believed it. “I picked some things up at the mall.”
“You’re not secretly meeting up with any guys, are you?” she asked, only half joking.
I blinked quickly, emotion hitting me full force. Whether it was because I was tired or nervous or had used all of my energy talking with Beckett, I had no idea. “No one’s into me like that, Mom.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Aiden looking at me over his computer.
“Honey.” Mom touched my shoulder. “You know, it’s better that you don’t date now.”
My eyebrows came together. “But Aiden has a girlfriend.”
“You have your health to focus on.” She patted the paper bag of birth control pills. “Boys are just a distraction.”
“So I shouldn’t date because I’m fat?” I asked. “Nice confidence booster, Mom.”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” she argued. “Your health is more important than a crush. You only have one life, and I’d hate to see you not living it to the fullest because you couldn’t get on top of your PCOS.”
I looked out the window into the backyard we hardly ever frequented anymore. These health talks used to be generalized warnings about heart disease and cancer, and now she had a name to put to all of my troubles. Something with the weight of infertility and obesity to sling at me for “motivation.” But what she didn’t get was that there was so much more to life than my waistline. “I know my health is important, but what about everything else?” I asked, finally turning to face her. “I’m graduating in May, and what will anyone have to say about me? She lived a perfectly boring life?”
“Oh, honey.” Mom stepped closer and brushed back some of my now limp curls. “They’ll say she was a great sister, an excellent student, a
blossoming artist, and the best daughter two parents could hope for. What else is there?”
“Friends, boyfriends, a life?” I grabbed the bag of pills and stood, hating that such a small package could make me feel so bad. “What if I wasted high school focusing on all the wrong things?”
“What if you focused on all the right things now that give you a firm foundation for when you go to college?”
Mom didn’t get it. I’d had more fun in the last couple of days than I’d had in the last three years combined, with or without my periods. The truth was, I was already having the time of my life. The only thing that kept me from fully enjoying time with the girls was the fact that it was all for the sake of a vendetta against Merritt. They weren’t my friends; they were my allies. Once there wasn’t a need for me anymore, I’d be long forgotten.
There was no use in trying to explain it to her when all she could see was my size.
I met Aiden’s eyes, and he turned his gaze down, guilt plain on his face. He knew it, and I knew it too. He was the perfect child, and I was the one who couldn’t fit into a pair of single-digit jeans or my parents’ expectations. Mom reached to the bowl in the center of the table with stalks of broccoli, cherry tomatoes, cauliflower and carrots, and took a handful. “Get some sleep, honey. It’s good for you, and it looks like you need it. Plus, it
helps with weight loss.”
She was right; I was exhausted, but the last thing on my mind was sleep. I went upstairs with my things and dropped them on my desk, hating that I could go from such high peaks to low valleys in a span of hours. I grabbed my silk pajamas and went to shower off the day and the makeup.
When I stepped out of the shower and looked in the slightly foggy mirror, I frowned.
How could I reconcile myself with the girl looking back at me? The problem wasn’t that she had worn makeup. It was that she was trying. Didn’t I scoff at girls who woke up two hours before school to do their hair and makeup just to impress guys who didn’t even have their own bank accounts? Didn’t I hate the fact that I was judged just because of my appearance? Hadn’t I stood up to Merritt and told her none of it mattered?
I shook my head, wishing I could shake the heaviness in my heart. Knowing sleep was nowhere near with all these emotions hitting me full force, I padded past Aiden’s closed door to my studio. The same canvas
from last time stared back at me, a perfect portrait of all the things I wished for. And all the things that might never happen.
I ran my finger over the rough surface of the canvas, then moved it front and center on my shelf before setting a new one on the easel. This time, I let all my feelings into the painting. Pain and fear and hope blended into a beautiful, off-color portrait of everything my size told me shouldn’t come true.
