When I stopped communication with my parents, I knew they were going to freak out. They did, and they even came to see me. I wasn’t as big as I am now, so I didn’t freak out. I explained my issues. They listened, reassured me. I didn’t listen to what they had to say, and I felt like I failed them even more. I got into my head, figured I needed to start doing things on my own, so I decided I didn’t owe them anything. I got more scholarships and even started working. It was all too much, though. And then I started having issues with my dormmate. So, I quit my job at the gas station to focus on my internship and school, but still, my dormmate was an idiot.
Thankfully, London offered me her enclosed porch. Instead of screens, it has walls and then a wall of glass. I could have put up some curtains, but my love of plants came in handy. With loads of building skills I learned from my dad, I made beautiful plant holders and shelves to block anyone I didn’t want looking in. London’s family’s home sits on six acres, and the porch faces the back, so I’m not too worried, but I did it just to be safe. I know for damn sure my mom and dad would lose their minds if they knew, which is why I’ve never mentioned the setup of my room. I couldn’t pass it up, though. I am able to afford the rent and everything I need, just with the funding from my scholarships. It gives me the freedom to focus on my work at the compound and school, while not having to face the shame I’ve caused my parents.
Not that they’d ever say I’ve caused them such.
I reach for my medications first, throwing each of them into my mouth before taking a long drink from my water bottle. I automatically hear my mom in my head. “Make sure you eat with those!” So I open a granola bar and take a bite before I reach for my phone. When I see the email from London’s mom to both of us, I let out a sigh. My grandmother has sent in my part of my rent for the month. I smile, grateful, before sending her a quick text to thank her, even though I suspect my mom is actually the one sending the money. And even though I have it covered. I also have a text from both my mom and dad, each wishing me a good morning and telling me they miss me. That they love me to the moon and back.
I haven’t spoken to them in almost six months, and every day, I get a text like this. I should just swallow my pride, my doubts, and call my mom, but then I see the pictures they send me of my siblings. Their golden children. Their flesh and blood. The twins, Ryder and Max, are killing it on and off the ice, and in and out of the pool. They’re awesome hockey players but even better divers. There is talk of them qualifying for the motherfucking Olympics for their incredible dives.
Really? I failed because I didn’t make it there, but they won’t fail.
Then Charlotte, the baby, she has over two million followers on social media and some gaming site, and she gets paid to play games. Plus, she’s super thin and gorgeous and everything I used to be.
I’m 5’7”, over two hundred pounds, with no social media.
It’s hard for me. I don’t want to say I’m jealous; I don’t feel like I am. I’m so proud of my siblings, but since I don’t have my dad’s genes, I feel like I’m not as great as them. Also, I’m off living on my own and starting my adult life. I shouldn’t need Mom and Dad parenting me, yet I miss them so much.
Maybe I should call.
I hear London talking animatedly, and then her voice carries to my room. “See you at work, Ang.”
“Bye,” I call out to her. I exhale in frustration because if she’s leaving, that means the movement in the kitchen is her boyfriend, Leroy Graves. While London is awesome, her taste in men is not. I do not like Leroy. Never have. I felt bad at first, but not lately. I get up, reaching for my bath caddy and my towels to get ready for the day. I have classes this morning and then work this afternoon. Of course, thinking of work makes me think of Evan Adler. I am so worried for him, and I feel awful for him. I want so desperately for him to be successful, but I don’t think he can be as a hockey player.
Which is highly unfortunate.
I tuck my phone into my caddy and head out of my room. As soon as the door opens, Leroy looks over at me from the table where he is eating a bowl of something. The same look of disgust I’m welcomed with every morning fills his features. If he weren’t such a jackass, I’d find him attractive. He has dirty-blond hair and deep brown eyes. He’s very athletic and hopes to play for the IceCats once he graduates. I’ve seen him play, and while he may look the part of an incredible hockey player, he is not.
I don’t say that because I don’t like him.
He falls far more than skates.
He looks away, and I don’t say anything as I enter the bathroom, thankfully dodging a conversation with him. Before I can shut the door, though, Leroy’s voice carries back to me.
“Don’t break the toilet when you sit on it.”
I close my eyes and remind myself that I shall not choose violence this morning.
The thing I dislike most about Leroy is that his voice echoes in my head all day. I was so excited about my new scrub set that was ordered for me by the organization. The scrubs are an insanely awesome red with silver thread. Along the pocket is my name, Angela Paxton, with London’s addition, “Future Mental Health Science Researcher.” I am stoked for when the word “Future” is gone and I’m finally a for-real researcher. I can’t help but not want to be a size sixteen when I order those new scrubs, but I’m struggling to get weight off.
Since moving to South Carolina, I’ve gained seventy pounds. If I’m honest, I began gaining weight once I started college, but I like to blame the weight gain on my move and all the demons I’ve fought to overcome. I’m not entirely sure how I’ve gained weight. I don’t overeat—only when I’m super stressed. Especially around finals, I’ll stress eat to the fullest. I guess I could move more, but between school and the compound, I really don’t have time. It stresses me to think about, but I’m too concerned with everything else that I don’t focus much on my weight. Well, that is, not until Leroy’s punk ass says something and gets in my head. I hate that dude.
I try to push him out of my mind as I look over my grades, pleased that I’m maintaining my 4.0. It’s been hard, but I’m dead set on graduating early. I want to start working for real. I want to be done with school so then I can focus on my body. Or possibly even start dating again. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lonely. And as if it’s on cue from the good Lord above, the group chat with my family chimes.
It’s my uncle Jude, with a picture of his son, Harrison, sitting on his wife Claire’s huge belly. Oh, the tears fill my eyes within seconds. They have been trying for a baby for as long as I can remember. When they were blessed with Harrison through adoption, we all thought they were done, but then Claire became pregnant, and the baby is thriving. My God, it’s such a blessing. She looks gorgeous, with her strawberry-blond hair flowing and her bright-blue eyes glowing as Harrison holds her belly tight. He’s the most gorgeous baby I’ve ever seen. Olive skin and dark brown eyes with crazy-curly dark hair. Jude refuses to cut his hair, no matter how much my grandma complains that it’s so hard to comb through. Though, she doesn’t complain much. She is one of those grandmas that loves so damn hard, even after all the heartbreak she experienced with her husband leaving her and all. Though, you’d never know it with how much my grandpa River loves her.