“Let’s not argue,” my mom says.
“I’m not the one arguing,” I mutter.
“Your father loves you and wants you to be happy,” she goes on, in the face of all evidence to the contrary. I mean, Jesus, the wine is soaking through my skirt, dripping down my legs, and his voice still echoes in my ears. “In fact,” she sends him a quick look, “he could be persuaded to discuss what you want to do if you come to the Autumn Glitter gala the Jensons are organizing next week, the one we told you about.”
Strangely, my father remains silent, his gaze darting from my mother to me. What the hell is going on?
“Really?” Suspicion tightens my insides, but if that means any sort of real talk, any sort of compromise, meeting half-way… Making my parents happy and also doing what I want… “Fine.”
“You’re coming to the gala?” My father’s look is every ounce as suspicious as mine has to be.
“I’ll come.” I focus on my drenched plate and poke at one of the rolls. “If it means so much to you.”
“It does. I’m glad you changed your mind about it,” he says, grabs his fork and spears a slice of smoked salmon.
I say nothing to that. Like every time, I hope he’ll take a step, too, try to understand me, accept me. Let me be. So I’m going to this damn gala, giving in to his demands like every single time, giving hope a chance.
And like every single time, I fear I’ll be proven wrong.
***
“So, what did your parents say?” Audrey plops her tray on the table in the college cafeteria and slides into her seat, her big green eyes narrowed at me. “How did they take it?”
What to say to that? I swallow a sigh as I take my seat across from her and carefully put my tray down. I stare at the salad, the pasta and dessert I got, and have no idea if I can ever eat all that food. “Do you think I’m too skinny?”
Audrey’s brows shoot up to her hairline. “Sorry, what?”
“Skinny,” I repeat, eyeing my Alfredo pasta as if it’s to blame for everything wrong in my life. “As in, no curves. Ugly skeletal appearance. Maybe I should eat more. Maybe—”
“Tess.” Audrey’s cinnamon brows are now drawn together over her eyes, and her mouth is pressed tight.
“What?”
“You do realize you’re the most beautiful woman I know, right?”
I smile, but it’s half-hearted. “Are you coming on to me, Aud?”
“Nah, I’ve known you for too long. It’d be like incest.”
That makes me laugh, but then I think of Dylan whom I’ve known for just as long, and my throat closes. Because there’s nothing sisterly about my feelings for him.
“In any case,” I croak, “that doesn’t mean I couldn’t do with more generous curves, or bigger boobs.”
“Tess, come on. We’ve talked about this.” Her voice softens. “Your parents… they aren’t you. They try to control you in every way. Don’t let them.”
I shake my head. “But what if they’re right? What if I should eat more?”
“Girl, you eat like a guy, I swear. I mean, just compare our trays!”
I glance at hers. It contains a sandwich with light turkey ham and cheese, and a bottle of water. Mine has the pasta, salad, a cheesecake cup and a Coke.
“Okay, fine. But I have a high metabolism. Maybe I am skinny, and I have no curves. Not like yours.”
She grimaces. “God. Your parents really did a number on you, didn’t they?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I lift my fork and stab a lettuce leaf.
“Yes, you do. You’re perfect, and changing your looks won’t give you what you need. Stop looking for excuses.”
“But maybe if I was curvier…”
“Tess.” Audrey’s eyes are too bright. Crap. She looks like she’s about to cry. “Let go.”
“What? I’m only saying maybe I should eat more.”
“Let him go, Tess.” Audrey bites her lip and looks down at her plate. “Jesus, don’t you see what you’re doing? Dressing up for your parents and studying what they want, then trying to change yourself to please Dylan, and neither your parents nor Dylan give a fuck!”
My fork drops from my fingers and clatters on the tray. I gape at Audrey. She never talks like that. Never.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so angry before.
“Stop chasing him,” she continues. “Stop expecting your parents to take notice of your efforts and accept you as you are. People don’t change.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I whisper. “Your mom loves you as you are. Ash can’t look anywhere but at you when you’re close by. Is it wrong to wish that, too?”