Page 10 of Getting Over You

“All good.” I smile. “Can I get a Coke, please?”

“You could be twins,” she says. “I’m Rory, by the way. I’m like, your mom’s work daughter.”

I contemplate that concept as I scan the menu, and Rory leaves to grab my Coke. She returns at the same time my mother does, holding drink cups.

“I got you a diet,” Belinda says as she slips into the booth opposite me. “I figured this was best. Swimsuit season?”

I smile weakly at my mother. Next to us, Rory gives me a furrowed brow. I nod at her, hoping she ignores every facet of this interaction.

“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

“And if you’re trying to be mindful, I’d recommend the chicken caesar salad,” Belinda continues.

My stomach knots with the weight of her words. I had my heart set on chicken tenders or a burger. But if mother dearestrecommends something more appearance-conscious, I can’t disagree. At least, not if I want to keep the peace. “I’ll do that,” I say, plastering on another perfect smile. “That sounds good.” Good if I’m dieting. Which, apparently, is the plan.

“Make it two,” my mother tells Rory.

“Like mother like daughter,” Rory says. She gives me another glance before walking off again.

With Rory out of earshot, I expect my mother to strike, as she often does. “Rory, on the other hand, could stand to indulge in a bacon burger. Wouldn’t you say? She’s much too thin.”

My throat goes dry, heat rising to my hairline. “She’s very pretty.”

“I’m not saying she isn’t pretty,” my mother says, lowering her voice considerably as Rory shuffles back over and fills the water glasses of the table behind us. “I just prefer to see a woman embrace her femininity with curves. Like you have.”

I bite on the inside of my cheek and wince at the feeling of nausea in my stomach. Backhanded compliments, I’ve realized over the years, are my mother’s bread and butter. That’s her way of being nice, telling me I have the body type she wishes her staff would have: plump and curvy.

First, I’m average and considerably non-curvy. Though, if I was as thin as Rory, Belinda would surely recommend that I, too, try a bacon cheeseburger. There’s no winning with her. At least, not if you are her daughter.

“So, how’s your family doing?”

“You are my family, too,” I say, knowing it’s better to start here. I learned to not answer this question with how Dad, Mom, and Mollie are doing. At least, not at the start. First, I must pander.

“Yes, well. It’s obvious who the preferred family members are, though.” Belinda stirs the ice in her Diet Coke with her straw as she speaks. “Let’s not simply ignore that.”

“Mollie starts college in the fall,” I say, ignoring her slight. “She’s undecided on her major, though.”

“You were too until I recommended a business degree,” Belinda says with a flippant wave of her hand. “I’m sure that advice was the best you could’ve gotten. Look at you now.”

“Right,” I reply.I chose business because routine and structure are part of my DNA. Unforeseen circumstances aren’t my forte.

“And if you work as hard as I did,” Belinda says in between sips of her soda, “maybe you’ll make the Dean’s list or graduate early. When I graduated, it was a shock to many that I did so well. Belinda Elliott always finds a way, sugar. Trust me.”

“I’m sure,” I tell her.Abandoning your motherhood duties certainly helped.

“Things were rocky for a while, as your father and I settled things down when you were little. But you know I don’t let the bad get me down. Graduated with honors, despite it all.”

“Impressive.” The way that she saysthe badmakes me want to scream. I bite the inside of my cheek.

Belinda smiles wide. It looks like she may have invested in veneers since the last time we’ve seen each other. No one’s teeth are that white, straight, or perfect.

“You’re looking really good,” I say. My palms start sweating, but I trudge on anyway. “And your smile. You must have a good dentist.”

A normal person would likely admit their teeth are porcelain. Not Belinda Elliott. “Doctor Fischer says I’m the cleanest mouth he sees,” she says confidently, sitting up tall and smiling bright again. “You know, it probably takes him five minutes for my appointment.”

I stifle a chuckle. “No kidding.”

When Rory walks up with our salads, I’m thankful for the distraction of picking through chicken and lettuce on my plate.I’m slowly getting through the rabbit food I don’t desire, as my mother tells me about being the healthiest woman in her workout group. When I’m tired of shuffling things around the plate, I push it away and top the mass of food with my crumpled napkin.

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