Ugly(25)

“Ma’am, do you need help?” I ask, as I step inside and stand beside her at the kitchen counter.

“Yes. Thank you, dear. Can you peel these potatoes?” She asks, as she dumps a bag full in the sink.

“Sure thing.” I pick the peeler up and start peeling them, and I can hear the two women at the table whispering and giggling like schoolgirls.

“Who’s this, Lina?” one of the women asks in a condescending tone.

Mrs. Hackly stops chopping the salad, gives me a sideways look that I interpret as ‘sorry about them’, then plasters a fake smile on her face. “This is Trent’s girlfriend. Her name’s Lily,” she says in a saccharine voice.

“Come here, girl,” the older woman tells me, as I turn around to smile at them. I dry my hands on the tea-towel beside me and move toward the older one who is holding her hand out to me.

I reach her and take her hand in mine, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” I say as nicely as I can.

She looks so old, with heavy wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. She’s got a thick crown of coarse gray roots that need to be dyed, then straw-like dark hair that comes to just above her shoulder. “You’re not very pretty,” she says to me.

I lift an eyebrow at her and hold in a chuckle. “Frankly ma’am, you’re not the first person to say that to me.” Pot calling the kettle black.

“I’m Terri and this is Laura. You can call me Mrs. Terri, and you can call her Mrs. Laura,” she says, pointing to the skinnier and younger woman sitting beside her.

“I’m just Laura. Don’t listen to a word the old bat’s saying to you. I’m married to Marty and Terri is married to John.”

I smile at her, and feel somewhat more at ease. “I better get back to the potatoes.”

“Soooo,” Terri draws out in a huff of a breath. “You’re going out with Trent, are you?”

I see Mrs. Hackly’s shoulders tense and she takes in a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am,” I answer.

“Really? And you think a good-looking boy like him will be happy with a girl like you?”

“Terri,” Laura hisses, “stop it, leave the girl alone.”

“Really Laura, Trent is a handsome boy. He can have anyone he wants, and he probably already has. So why would he choose someone as plain as her?”

“Stop being such a bitch.”

“Lina, are you happy with the girl?” Terri says as if I’m an infected, disease-ridden animal.

“Lily is a very nice girl,” Mrs. Hackly replies in my defense.

Terri mumbles, but doesn’t say anything else to me.

Mrs. Hackly and I spend the rest of the time in the kitchen cooking. I should say, Mrs. Hackly is cooking, and I’m doing whatever she says.

When all the food has been prepared, we take everything outside on the back porch and call everyone for lunch.

Trent instantly is beside me, and wraps his arm around my waist. He pulls me into his side, as he chats with his dad.

Mrs. Hackly waits for everyone to be seated before she sits opposite me. I have Trent on one side, and John on the other. The conversation is mostly among the brothers, the kids and Terri. I notice Mrs. Hackly, Laura, and I are all pretty quiet, not saying much.

As the conversation continues, I also pick up on Marty’s reaction to things. He seems slightly slower, with a lot of the jokes the other two brothers tell going over his head, as if he’s not understanding them.

“Like some more potato salad?” Trent asks.

When I turn my head to look at him on my right, a hand grabs my left thigh and squeezes it. Automatically I jump back and swing around to look at John. He moves his hand, but not before he chuckles at me.

“You okay?” Trent asks.

“I’m fine, I just need to go to the bathroom,” I say as I push my chair back and leave the table quickly.

“Are you okay, dear?” I hear Mrs. Hackly ask me in a concerned tone. I turn and look at her over my shoulder, feigning a smile.

The moment I’m inside the double glass doors, I run to the bathroom and lock myself inside. I feel sick, like I’m going to throw up. I remember the moment his leer made me feel ill, and now the thought of his hand squeezing my thigh sends terrifying shivers throughout my entire body. There’s a rock in the pit of my stomach, but it’s hurtling up my throat at such speed I doubt I’ll be able to make it to the basin.

As soon as I vomit, my nerves calm. I breathe deeply in through my nose and out my mouth enough to let the wave of nausea pass. “What was that?” I ask myself as I look in the mirror. My eyes are all bloodshot and my face is splotchy and red.

Standing at the basin, I let the cool water run and splash it on my face. I stand looking at my ugly reflection in the mirror and finally feel strong enough to go back out to the barbeque. I’m not sure if I should tell Trent or if I should just keep it to myself. Telling him will cause a rift if he tells his dad, but not to tell him is dishonest.