Page 64 of The Unraveling

I caught Sadie and her mom exchanging a look.

“How about we go get you a cheeseburger or an ice cream from the little restaurant, then?”

My stomach churned with hunger, but I shook my head. “I’m not—” I almost said honestly that I wasn’t allowed, but at the last minute, I just said, “I’m not hungry. Thank you.”

I sat on one of the chaises and acted like I was over the whole party. It was the first time I ever acted bored and bitchy to hide my embarrassment.

When my mom finally came back in, Sadie’s mom intercepted her and—I could tell—told her everything that was going on.

My mom looked angry. Not concerned or worried about me, but pissed.

“Fuck’s sake,” I heard her saying as she came over to me. She adjusted her tone and facial expression before reaching me. Once she did, she said, “Party over?”

I shrugged. We didn’t get to play any of the games I wanted to play or do cake or anything, but I was an inch from crying again, so I said nothing.

And then we left. All the other girls were still there when we did. I don’t know what I expected, but of course they stayed. Just because I had to leave early didn’t mean they shouldn’t keep playing.

I felt like I was leaving behind a more innocent version of myself as we walked out of the locker room, passed through the lobby, and loaded into the car. I felt envious of the me I had been when we arrived, of all the other girls who could swim around and jump and dive without being concerned that a waterfall of blood might pour out of them. I used to be so carefree.

I was being very melodramatic. Sadie’s mom had told me I was growing up. Maybe I was. And maybe growing up meant that everything got worse and worse. Maybe that’s why my mom was the way she was.

The thought made me terribly melancholy, a feeling for which I didn’t yet know the word, but that I could experience all the same.

When we got home, my mom asked if I wanted to open presents. This lifted my spirits a little, and she told me to go shower first and put on my pajamas, and then we could do presents.

I washed my hair with my mom’s Herbal Essences shampoo and conditioner and L’Oréal Crème Ribbons body wash on my skin. It wasn’t until I got out of the shower that I realized I needed another pad or something.

I traipsed into the living room and asked my mom for help. She helped me, seeming irritated the whole time, and then I went back to my room to get into my pajamas.

They suddenly seemed babyish and too young for me. A matching set of pink Little Mermaid pajamas I’d gotten years before, but could still fit into. As if fun, whimsical days and things were behind me.

I came out with brushed hair, the way my mom always wants it to be. She had Duran Duran playing, and she was drinking wine. It was always different with her, but usually this meant she was in a good mood.

“Would you like some water?” she asked.

“Okay,” I said, thinking of the chocolate milk Mimi would be offering me right now, if I were at her house.

We went into the living room, where a small pile of presents sat on the coffee table.

The first one was a small notebook.

“A diary?” I said, happily. Most of my favorite movie and TV characters had diaries, so I was excited.

“Sort of!” she said. “It’s for food journaling. You can keep track of the calories you’re eating in there, and make sure it’s not too many or too few. Open your next one.”

She handed me another. I felt a little deflated, a feeling that worsened when I opened the next gift to find a beige-and-gray-covered book called Food: Its Calories, Its Purpose.

I flipped through. It was like a dictionary, only instead of definitions, there were measurements and numbers.

“You can look up anything you eat in there, and it’ll tell you how many calories are in it. It’s fun!”

I nodded. For my birthday I had been hoping for…other stuff. Sadie got hair chalk for her birthday and now she always had streaks of violet and pink and blue in her hair. I also wanted things like a TV in my room I’d never get. I wanted clothes, shoes, games. Other fun things. Not whatever this was.

“Thanks,” I said anyway, feeling a little heartbroken.

I opened my next one. This one was better. A beauty kit.

“Oh,” I said. “This is cool.”

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