Page 35 of Red Mountain Burning
Margot and Carmen Go to the Airport
Riding in the passenger side of Carmen’s new Tesla Model X, Margot felt slightly uneasy. Though Carmen had forgiven her quickly for sleeping with Jake, Margot was still trying to forgive herself. More so on her mind were the tremendous feelings of intimidation and flat-out inferiority that seemed to want to strangle her as she glanced at the supermodel next to her. Margot knew it wasn’t healthy to compare herself to Carmen, or anyone else for that matter, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Margot hadn’t measured, but compared to herself, she was pretty sure Carmen was three feet taller. Carmen’s right arm on the gear shift was about the same circumference as Margot’s middle finger. Carmen’s SUV was a million times cleaner than Margot’s Volvo, which Margot hadn’t had time to take to the car wash in more than a month. Though Carmen was older than Margot, she looked ten years younger, with skin that must have been peeled right off a child. And look at her tiny little purse compared to Margot’s, which suddenly felt like a duffel bag.
As they rode by the Yakima River heading toward the highway, Carmen asked, “How are the wedding plans coming along?”
“Don’t even get me started.” Margot told her about the dress and Carly’s arrival, and Carmen listened with apparent interest.
“You’re really going through a tough time, aren’t you?” Carmen asked.
“At least Carly is clean. Like, really clean. Makes her bed, does her dishes, picks up after herself. At least there’s that.”
Margot and Carmen were actually getting along quite well, and it had become all too obvious that these two women had not shared much—other than Jake.
As Red Mountain disappeared in the rearview mirror, Margot finally had to ask, “How in the world do you stay so fit? I need a secret or two. If I can’t squeeze into that wedding dress, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Carmen smiled as if Margot were the twentieth person to ask today. And Margot felt so unoriginal. Couldn’t she come up with a better conversation with a supermodel? Wasn’t Carmen made of more than her slender body and gorgeous face? Still, Margot really needed to know, and she would have kicked herself if she hadn’t brought it up before they reached the airport.
“It’s not easy,” Carmen admitted as she sped past a dually truck towing a horse trailer.
“I have less than four months to lose…let’s just say a lot of weight. And I’ve barely eaten, and nothing’s coming off. I swear, Remi can eat salads for three days and lose six or seven pounds. I can basically stop eating andgainweight! So please tell me, what’s the secret? If I don’t figure it out, I’ll have to rip a sail off the mast of a sailboat in Seattle to wear down the aisle.”
Carmen let out the tiniest laugh. “You crack me up. Why haven’t we ever hung out?”
Margot felt a warmth creep into the car. “I don’t know. We live too close not to.”
Returning to Margot’s question, Carmen answered, “One thing I’ve realized as I’ve gotten older is that being thin isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Why are you so worried about losing weight, anyway? I think you’re stunning. And I’m not the only one in my family who thinks so.”
Margot’s mouth fell open. Here they were again. “For once in my life, I’m speechless.”
Carmen smiled a very real smile, and Margot felt like she caught a glimpse of the woman’s soul. “It’s true. Anyway, I’m serious. If you want to be thin, you have to strip the joy from eating. When I sit down for a meal—if I take the time to sit down—I’m not excited about the menu or the flavors. I’ve heard you talk so eloquently about a meal you’ve prepared. You have such a gift as a chef. I wish I knew what that was like. My eating experiences are so methodical. Before I even pick up my fork, I’ve decided how much would be the right portion to keep my figure. And before I quit drinking a few months ago, I would decide how much I could eat and still get away with a bottle or two of wine. Let me tell you, an empty stomach is not a good base for a bottle or two of wine.”
Margot appreciated Carmen’s honesty and added, “Especially when you barely weigh as much as one of my legs.”
Without reacting, Carmen continued, “I’ve loved my profession, but it’s exhausting. I’ve spent every waking minute since I was a teenager concerned about my looks. It’s what everyone expected of me from a very early age.” She lifted a finger. “Then you get old, and a whole new set of problems arise. Forget gaining weight. Once you’re in your forties, and, God forbid, fifties, it’s the wrinkles and sags that are terrifying.”
“Aren’t they the worst?” Margot looked past Carmen to the landscape flying by through the window. An army of sprinklers was showering an apple orchard, a beat-up truck was putting along Frontage Road, and a woman was racing across a field on a horse.
Carmen glanced in the rearview mirror and turned on her blinker. “I think you’d be surprised how gloomy it is living in this body.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Then, realizing Carmen was deadly serious, Margot asked, “Really? I mean, I know you have some stuff going on, but you seem so perfect.”
She smirked. “Margot, if you only knew.”
A few miles later, feeling much more comfortable navigating the intimate spaces, Margot asked, “How’s the whole getting sober thing? I mean…if you want to talk about it.” It had occurred to Margot that Carmen had as few boundaries as Margot. Maybe theyshouldbe friends.
Apparently not offended at all by the question, Carmen answered, “Well, there are probably better places to be sober than a mountain where everyone lives for wine. Including my husband. I’ve made it six months, though. It’s nice to remember what happened the night before. I like being able to eat a little bit more, now that I don’t have the alcohol calories. The AA meetings can be grueling.”
“Oh, gosh, you’re going to meetings here?”
“The worst part is wondering if someone is taking pictures or recording me.” She shrugged. “But I guess that just comes with being a public figure. My privacy is an open book.” She said the last part with the humor of a seasoned veteran in the business of being in the public eye.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Margot said. “Isn’t there something you can do without the meetings? Or can you go to famous-people meetings in Seattle?”
Carmen shook her head. “The meetings have been great, and the people are very respectful. We’re all going through the same thing. Frankly, I don’t think they care who I am. We’re all just trying to get sober.”
“It’s a noble feat, getting sober.” Margot said. “You should be very proud of yourself. I know your family is.”
