Page 56 of Never the Best

One of the challenges of having an eating disorder was that socializing often revolved around food and drinks, which sometimes made me hesitant to go out with friends. But when Luna and Aurora invited me to join them for Friday evening drinks, I didn’t hesitate. I eagerly agreed. I was feeling good—better than I had in a long time. I felt free, like I was finally stepping into the kind of full, vibrant life I’d always wanted. I felt invincible, like all my dreams weren’t just possible—they were within reach.

We went to The Peacock Lounge, a Savannah staple that was both historic and trendy. Velvet couches, gilded mirrors, and soft, golden lighting gave it a Gatsby-era charm, while the fancy cocktails, gourmet bites, and after-work crowd gave it a fun, modern vibe.

We sat at the bar, and I ordered,boldly, a Southern Living, their riff on the Chatham Artillery Punch, according to the menu. I didn’t knowthatcocktail either, but thisPeacock Lounge signature drink sounded delicious, made of bourbon, pear brandy, black tea, and some brut bubbles. I threw further caution to the wind and requested some small bites for the table. Edamame gyoza, spring rolls, and shishito peppers.

It felt liberating to order without scrambling to make excuses for not eating or drinking. Even now, though I was thin, a part of me always worried that people might figure out I had an eating disorder. The thought of anyone knowing terrified me—because I was ashamed and couldn’t bear the idea of being watched all the time. The people were wondering if I wasn’t eating because I simply didn’t feel like it or because I’d weighed myself that morning and decided a quarter of a pound was too much.

Of course, I didn’t even own a scale anymore—one of the boundaries I’d set to manage my condition. It had been a small but significant act of reclaiming control. I did have a long mirror in my bedroom, though. For the most part, I avoided it—full-length mirrors were their own kind of torture. Sometimes, on my better days, I’d catch my reflection and allow myself to really look, just for a moment. To see not the flaws but me. These were basics in most people’s lives. Checking how you looked after you got dressed. Putting on makeup without wondering if your cheeks were suddenly too chubby, or you were getting a double chin, or if your nose had somehow gotten larger during the night.

But right now, as I picked up my cocktail, I felt like I’d overcome all that, and I could do even more. It was a fantastic feeling, one I hadn’t had…well,ever. As much as Iknew that this was the result of therapy, of me facing my demons by coming to Savannah, I also knew that speaking with Rhett, telling him my truth, and getting validation from him, along with his apology and sincere regret, had helped accelerate my healing.

The workday had been long, but I felt light—like I was finally getting somewhere. My hair was behaving, I liked my dress, and Luna and Aurora were talking about a meeting with a client that went off the rails, that had me laughing so hard I thought I might spill my drink.

Aurora, who was always poised and just a touch reserved, smiled at me over the rim of her Sauvignon Blanc. “You know, Pearl, I think I’ve heard you laugh more in the past few days than in all the time since you started working at Savannah Lace.”

“That’s because I’ve been hanging out with you two.” I raised my glass in a mock salute. “You’re a terrible influence.”

“Damn right, we are,” Luna said proudly. She was the opposite of Aurora—bold, brash, and unapologetically herself, dressed in a leather jacket over a black silk blouse.

I had eaten one gyoza, and there was no nausea. It was a victory. I sipped my drink and wondered if this could be one of the times that maybe I’d order a second. I was giddy at that idea. I almost felt normal. Just like everyone else at the restaurant, having a good time after work.

“Pearl, darlin’, imagine seeing you here.” And because the universe was shitting on me, I heard my sister-in-law’s voice.

“Pearl,” another voice chimed. I didn’t even have to lookto know it was Josie. Her tone was faux sweetness with a sprinkle of condescension. It made my stomach twist, which was annoying since I was doing so well.

I heard my therapist in my head:You have both internal and external triggers, remember that. The external ones you can zone out—they’re the things you can’t control, like other people’s comments or situations you find yourself in. But the internal ones? Those are the thoughts and beliefs you carry about yourself, and that’s where your work lies—to challenge them, to question their truth, and to remind yourself that they don’t define who you are.

This was anexternaltrigger. I could rise above it. I wouldn’t let this ruin my Friday evening, I promised myself.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw, to my chagrin—Josie, my sister-in-law Caroline, and, of course, Dixie May. They had just walked in and, as bad luck would have it, were going to sit at the bar. I wanted to ask Luna and Aurora if we could find a booth, but that felt like defeat, so I smiled. “Hello, ladies.”

Everyone did the hi, hello, air kisses nonsense with Luna and Aurora. After all, we were all part of the same Savannah society circles, and appearances had to be maintained.

“Aurora, we’re so looking forward to Betsy’s party next week!” Josie exclaimed, then looked pointedly at me. “Rhett and I always love coming by the Rhodes Estate. It’s so inspiring as we work on our future home.”

Now, I knew that Rhett had broken the engagement, or at least that’s what he’d told me. Had they already made up? Well, that was fast, I thought bitterly and set my cocktailglass down without thinking about how suddenly I didn’t want to consume anything.

Tune her out, Pearl, I told myself sharply.Let her go. You don’t need her thoughts, words, her poison inside your head. And who cares if Rhett and she are back together, yeah? It doesn’t concern you.

I was going to get up to use the restroom, even though I hated restaurant bathrooms where there were mirrors on every fucking surface, but I needed to get away, even if for a moment.

But before I could, a woman came by to where we were all clustered, Savannah society girls—those with careers and those without—the lines were drawn.

Annabelle Radcliffe was Savannah royalty. Old money, old power, old grace. She was one of those women who could silence a room just by walking into it, and for reasons I’d never fully understood, she’d always been kind to me.

She nodded to everyone, who gushed and said hello. Although she nodded politely, her focus was on me, to the chagrin of the Caroline contingent.

“Pearl Beaumont,” she said warmly, her Southern drawl as silky as honey. She looked me over, her eyes bright. “You look lovely, my dear. Absolutely radiant. That color suits you.”

I flushed under the compliment, stammering a soft, “Thank you, Mrs. Radcliffe.”

“Oh, darlin’, call me Annabelle. I just heard from Hattie Odom the amazing job you’re doing for the women’s health initiative.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “You, my dear,are an asset to our community. Beautiful, charming, kind, and smart. We’re lucky to have you.”

She smiled, giving a slight nod to Luna and Aurora before heading back to her table. For a fleeting moment, I felt untouchable. Seen. Even admired. I may not believe in the society hoopla. However, even I knew that Annabelle Radcliffe giving me her stamp of approval in public was a big fucking deal, especially to the ditzy women standing in front of me, malice and envy in their eyes.

“Good thing you lost all that weight, yeah?” Caroline was the first to reveal her green-eyed monster. “Everyone knows that Annabelle Radcliffehatesfat girls.”

“Cut it out, will you, Caroline?” Luna drawled. “And, if you don’t mind, we’d like to have our drinks in peace. So…I recommend the booth at the other fuckin’ end.”

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