Desperate Chances (18 page)

I gripped the napkin in my hands and willed myself not to flip the table.

“Please stop touching my food, Mom,” I said sharply. I moved my plate away from her and cast a quick look around the crowded café, hoping no one was paying attention to the crazy woman attempting to force feed her adult daughter.

My mother scowled her pretty scowl and returned the fork to her own plate. “I want you to weigh yourself when you get home. If you’ve lost weight, I want you to call and tell me and I’ll make you a doctor’s appointment. Maybe you need to increase your therapy again.”

Every conversation was the same. Food. Eating. Booze. Sobriety. Over and over again.

Was it any wonder I had issues?

My mother had spent my entire life telling me I was either eating too much or not enough. Food had become the focus of my entire world. Counting calories, standing on a scale. Pulling at the skin around my hips, sucking in my stomach so I could fit into that tiny skirt. I was never happy because my mother was never happy. But at least I could look pretty while I was miserable.

When I was a child, my image conscious mother entered me in every beauty pageant available. I was the reigning Little Miss Augusta County from 1998 until 2002. I had never been allowed to eat sweets and cake at my friends’ birthday parties. I wasn’t permitted soda or chips on playdates. It was ingrained in me to watch my weight. To make sure that I didn’t get fat.

Having my slender mother as a role model was enough to make anyone develop an eating disorder. I was never able to live up to her unrealistic standards.

So, of course I became obsessed with food. With eating it and not eating it. I would starve myself for days at a time, eating only enough to keep me going. But damn, I could fit into those cute J Brand jeans. So by the time I was diagnosed with Anorexia at the age of twenty-one, I weighed a whopping ninety-eight pounds soaking wet.

Since my diagnosis and subsequent hospitalization, my mother’s mantra had changed. Now instead of telling me I could get fat, my mother was accusing me of being too skinny.

The truth was she was never happy with my appearance. Not when she looked in the mirror and saw perfection.

“My counselor seems to think once a week is more than enough for me at this point. I’m doing really well, Mom,” I assured her, taking a bite of my sandwich to appease her.

“Your father and I simply worry about you. We want you happy and healthy. You can’t fault us for that.” Mom dabbed at her eyes. Cue the waterworks and emotional manipulation. “It would make us feel so much better if you’d move home so we could make sure you were okay. So all of us could heal. Together.”

I took my time chewing my food. It was either that or I’d tell her to go to hell in a very uncomfortable hand basket.

“We cleaned out your room the other day. Your dad had some new furniture delivered. We thought that you could pick out a new color for the walls. Something more grown up. Oh, I can take you shopping for a new wardrobe. That sounds fun, right?”

I looked down at my very sensible grey skirt and blue blouse. “Is there something wrong with my current wardrobe?” I asked, picking up on my mom’s unique form of passive aggression.

My mother smoothed out the skirt of her own dress, a pretty pink number with three quarter sleeves and a stylish wide belt. “It just doesn’t suit your frame. You need something that gives you the illusion of curves. Otherwise you look like a stick.”

“I like what I’m wearing, Mom,” I told her. I was learning not to cower under her intense scrutiny. It was tough growing a backbone, but I was trying.

My mom pursed her lips but didn’t push the issue. “Where were you this weekend? Your father had hoped to see you on Sunday for dinner.”

“I went to see my friends’ band with Maysie, Vivian, and Riley. I told you about it.”

“Is this that rock and roll band? I don’t think that’s a very good scene for a recovering alcoholic,” Mom announced loudly. A woman sitting at the next table looked in our direction.

“Jeesh, Mom, why don’t you tell the world about my personal business,” I muttered under my breath.

My mom didn’t acknowledge my comment. “I was talking to Jolene yesterday and she mentioned there’s an AA group that meets at her church on Wednesdays. It’s that group for alcoholics where they get up and talk.”

“I know what AA is, Mom,” I said quietly.

“Oh, well you should go. It’d be good for you.” My mother pulled out a tube of lipstick and a compact. “Vivian’s keeping alcohol out of the apartment isn’t she? She doesn’t seem like a very responsible girl. This is why it would be better for you to live at home.”

I squeezed my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Vivian is very responsible. She’s an events coordinator at The Claremont Center,” I reminded her.

“Oh, that’s right. Your father just bought me season tickets to the ballet there.” She discreetly wiped excess lipstick from her mouth and tucked it back into her purse. “Eat your lunch, Gracie.”

I picked up my sandwich and finished it off. It felt like lead in the pit of my stomach.

My father was a successful businessman. My mother had built her world around being the perfect wife. The perfect mother. The perfect woman.

In their eyes I was neither successful nor perfect. But I had tried. I had really tried. But I was learning that my version of success was just as important. And being perfect didn’t mean being happy.

“I have to meet Maysie, Mom.” I got to my feet, not able to sit there with her any longer.

“Oh. I was hoping we could have some dessert,” my mom said, looking disappointed. Her made-up face softened momentarily and she took my hand. “I like your shoes, I meant to tell you that.”

I looked down at my plain, black pumps with their short heel. They weren’t the sort of shoes my mother would ever consider wearing.

She gave me a smile and I smiled back. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

I left thinking that maybe I wasn’t the only one trying to change.

“W
ow, this place is awesome!” I exclaimed, getting out of my car and joining Maysie on the front porch of a beautiful colonial style house.

“It is, isn’t it?” Maysie remarked giddily. She jingled keys in her hand in obvious excitement.

“So you want to tell me why we’re here?” I asked as Maysie unlocked the front door and stepped inside. I followed her into a small foyer.

“This is my new house. Well mine and Jordan’s,” she said, walking into a large living room with a fireplace against one wall and a bay window looking out onto the street.

“What?” I gaped. “You got a house? When did this happen?”

“Well, we can’t live in Garrett’s spare room forever. As much as I love the guys, we need our own space. Especially now with so many changes happening.” She started pulling dustcovers off furniture and dropping them in a pile on the floor. “I took that PR job. I got the phone call confirming everything this morning. I’ll be working mostly from home with a handful of existing clients, but there will be some traveling required, which is cool.”

I followed Maysie through the downstairs as she turned on lights and removed covers from the rest of the furniture. It was a cute house. Small but quaint, with hardwood floors and lots of natural light. It was the perfect kind of house to start a family in.

“You guys are settling down, aren’t you? Jordan’s not going to go back out on the road is he?” I deduced, leaning against the counter in the kitchen as Maysie went through the cabinets, making sure there was nothing left behind by the previous tenants.

Maysie’s shoulders sagged a bit. “He’s really not sure. Things are up in the air with the label. But it doesn’t look good. Jordan and the others are sort of preparing themselves. And on some level, I think they’re all ready for the hammer to drop. To just know one way or another where they stand. This whole band thing was a dream. They never thought in a million years they would get as big as they did. It’s been one hell of a ride, Gracie, but at the end of the day, it proved to be more stress than I think any of them anticipated. It’s been hard. And with Jordan and me getting married and starting a family—”

I held up my hand. “Back up a second. Starting a family?”

Maysie smiled, her entire face lighting up. “I’m pregnant, G.”

“Oh my god!” I shrieked, all but launching myself at her. “What the hell? When did you find out?” I demanded.

“I had suspected for a few weeks, especially with how crappy I’ve been feeling. I took a test when we got back from the show over the weekend. It was positive. I’m waiting for Jordan to get back into town so we can go to the doctor’s appointment together.” Maysie put a hand on her flat stomach. “It’s early days. I can’t be more than a month along, but yeah, we’re having a baby.”

“Oh. My. God!” I squealed louder, grabbing her hands as we jumped up and down like little girls. “You’re having a baby! I can’t believe it!”

“I know. I can’t really believe it either. But Jordan is so excited. We both are. Which is why we wanted to get into our own place as soon as possible. We want stability. We want roots. We’re starting our family, G. We need something solid.”

“I’m just so happy for you, Mays. I can’t believe my best friend is going to be a mom!”

“You’re going to be an auntie. I guess it’s official. We’re getting old,” Maysie laughed and I bumped her hip with mine.

“Speak for yourself. There’s a lot of living left in these bones.” Then I stiffened. “So the guys are on their way back then?”

Maysie nodded, wiping a hand along the counter top. “They stopped for the night in Richmond but they should be back this evening after dropping off the bus. We’ll be at Garrett’s for the next few days but then we’re hoping to move in over the weekend.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “You up to helping me clean?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked weakly, already thinking about
other things
.

“Not really,” Maysie giggled.

“So they’ll be back…” My voice drifted off.

Maysie gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yeah. They’ll be back. Look, I’m not sure what happened between you and Mitch, but maybe with him being home it’ll be a good time to talk. To sort everything out,” she suggested.

“I tried that this weekend. It didn’t turn out so well. He doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say.”

Maysie squeezed my hand. I knew she wanted to ask more but she didn’t push. “Come to Garrett’s tonight. We’ll all be just hanging out, ordering pizza. The guys will no doubt be playing a million rounds of Minecraft. Vivian and I will both be there. Please come.”

“I’m not sure—”

“You can’t avoid your friends, G. Not now that everyone is one place again. Think about it.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good. Now let’s go to the store to get something to clean these floors. They’re filthy!” Maysie exclaimed.

And I was happy to help her. It was better than thinking about what I was going to do now that
everyone was in the same place again.

I
had driven this road to Garrett’s house so many times I could do it with my eyes closed.

I maneuvered my car around the potholes and the fence post that had been lying on the side of the road for almost three years. I turned the corner and pulled in beside Cole’s Jeep and cut the engine.

I recognized Maysie’s car and Garrett’s van. I also noticed a half a dozen other cars, most likely people from Barton’s. It seemed I was the last person to arrive.

I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat and slung it over my shoulder. The guys had only gotten back into town a few hours ago, but already I could see the bonfire raging behind the house and could hear the loud thump of music coming from inside. There were a few people sitting on the front porch smoking and laughing.

It was a typical scene at Garrett’s house. I had been coming to parties here since I was a junior in college. Since before Maysie and Jordan began dating. I used to tag along with his ex, Olivia and my former sorority sisters. Back then we had been the college chicks slumming it with the townies. A place to get free booze and not much else.

But then these townies became my friends and I still felt a sting of shame when I thought of how little I regarded them back then. How easy it was for me to look down my nose just because they didn’t go to Rinard. I had been a total snob.