The Best Man's Baby(33)

“Hot buns fresh from the oven,” the waiter said interrupting, then leaving.

“Well, I must say, if you’re trying to hold on to a man like that, the last thing you should be doing right now is eating a basket full of bread,” she said, raising her brows and pointing to the bread basket with a tilt of her chin.

Rage, the kind that began at the tips of one’s toes and then skyrocketed through the body until it felt as though it needed to explode out of the head like a cartoon rocket ship, engulfed Claire. For a moment she didn’t move, didn’t utter a sound. She glanced from her left to her right. She had two options—the first being to pitch herself out the window, and the second being to dump the basket of hot rolls onto her mother’s head.

“Thank you for your heartfelt happiness, Mother.”

“Well, of course I’m happy for you, darling,” her mother said, her eyes growing wider as Claire slowly reached for a bun. She caught the glimpse of her reflection in the sparkling silverware, again, an irritating flash of who she once was sneakily entering her psyche. She saw a young woman with braces gleaming through an awkward smile and acne that took on a purplish hue she’d tried to hide with makeup. Frumpy clothes attempting to hide pounds of unhappiness were her uniform, and eyes always filled with tears and self-hatred stared back at her.

“Claire!”

She jumped and looked at her mother. The voice wasn’t in her past, it was right across the table, and its shrill tone mirrored her mother’s sour expression as she waited for Claire to notice her. “You know I have always supported you,” her mother said, taking a sip of water, her fuchsia lipstick leaving a mark on the crystal water glass. Claire tried not to get agitated, tried not to let her mother’s blatant disapproval affect her. When she’d been a teen, she wanted desperately to be the image of perfection. She wanted to have her mother’s petite frame, but that was then, Claire thought, looking at her mother. She had worked through a lot of her issues and she was a stronger woman for it.

“You know what, Mother?” Claire said, feeling the fire that burned in her body for the girl she once was. She didn’t wait for her mother to answer. She needed to get this out. Now. “You haven’t always supported me. You have always supported the image of what you thought I should be,” she said leaning toward her mother, her mother pressing away from her into the booth. She ignored the hurt look on her mother’s face and continued on, before she chickened out.

“You always thought I was too ugly and too fat. I was at the top of my class and you never once congratulated me for it. The only thing you ever congratulated me for was losing weight, and even then, it was with the mention of how fat I used to be. When I told you I was opening my own business you didn’t encourage me, you just pointed out that I should be concerned with starting a family. When my business started booming you told me not to neglect my appearance. And now, now, I’m here telling you I’m dating Jake and all you can think about is what I’m eating? Well, you know what?”

She paused, cleared her throat of tears, and shoved a piece of bread in her mouth and chewed.

“You know what?” she asked again, chomping away. “I like bread. Yup, that’s right,” she said, nodding, as her mother shook her head at her. Claire dipped a piece of the bread into olive oil, dabbing it furiously, “and I like myself. I like my body. I like my mind. I like the woman I’ve become, and you know what else?” she said, this time unable to stop the tears that welled in her eyes as she stared at her mother, olive oil dripping from the bread still in her hand and onto the pristine white tablecloth. “I know Dad loves me. I know Dad is proud of me. And I know, if he were here, the first words out of his mouth would have been congratulations,” Claire said, blinking rapidly. She felt her chest heaving from sobs that were trapped inside.

“Your father can’t protect you from the real world anymore, Claire. People are judged on their appearance every day and you’re naive if you don’t think so. That man you’re with isn’t going to be attracted to an overweight, frumpy woman. I’m just—”

“No. No, you’re not going to do this. You are not going to try to instill doubt in me. Not now.” She stood, grabbing her purse and coat and slid out of the booth. “Oh, and by the way, you’re about to become a grandmother,” Claire added. Her mother looked horrified. She spotted the bread basket still filled with bread. Go for it. “And you know what else, Mother?” Claire said, grabbing each bun and stuffing it into her purse. “I am going to take each and every one of these processed white buns and eat them!”