Page 27 of Falling Backwards
Then, once again, I remember how she humiliated me in front of a ton of people in our class a couple weeks later.On purpose.Without tacking on even one of the apologies I’d tried to extend for my own actions—not to my face, not even over a note or text message.
It’s a welcome shift in my thoughts…except for, you know, how it pisses me off all over again.
“Maggie fucking Moss,” I grumble.
Jerking my coat on, I start leaving the room too.
I happen to know we have to work together again tomorrow, and I’m ready to properly relax before then.
M A G G I E
All the way home, I stewed.
Even though they revolved around only two of the billions of guys inhabiting this planet, I stewed about a great many things in my head, out loud in grumbles, over stoplight texts to my group chat with Joy and Emma.
Thanks to the girls siding with me about both Luke and my ex, I was calmer by the time I walked into our apartment.And thanks to the Bluetooth speaker sitting on the kitchen island, I ended up with a great way to finish unwinding: listen to music and eat a snack.
Gosh, is music a gift.Catchy melodies, melancholy vibes, lyrics, instruments.The artistic talent that goes into building songs and the stories they create out of nothing.The way people sing.Music just makes life better, and I definitely need it to improve my mood right now.
No one is here except for me.Joy is at work and Emma let us know she’s out with some new guy.It’s just me, my music library on shuffle, the afternoon sunshine coming in through the big living room windows, and the plate of fruits, veggies, and homemade ranch I fixed up for myself.
I lean against the island and pause singing along to “The Phoenix.”While I chew some broccoli, I let my eyes wander around.I love our place.These apartments feature loft-type units of different sizes, so across the hall from me and the girls, Huck and Harleigh Merritt live in one of the smaller options (we love them just as much as we love their bar, and boy, do we love that they set up shop so close by).The bigger units are ideal for roommate situations like ours: the three bedrooms and one bathroom are isolated and spread around, but the center of the place is a spacious blend of living area and kitchen.
Sometimes when it storms, Emma likes to burn candles instead of turn on the overhead lights, pull the curtains back, and let lightning flicker throughout this whole big room.Although that can seem spooky on occasion, I do love the way rain looks on those windows.It’s picturesque and soothing.
Still, I’m enjoying the current sunshine.I decide to take my snack over to one of the wide beams and soak it up the best I can.
That turns into bobbing my head to the song that shuffles up next.And since it’s “If I Can’t Have You,” head-bobbing quickly turns into me moving around the room in time with the tune, my shoulders and hips impossible to keep still.
Thankfully, I can feel the lingering tension from work letting go of my muscles.Can feel the sting of Marcus’s actions and the grate of Luke’s ebbing away.
The latter will resurface tomorrow, I know.I saw the shift schedule.But for now, I’m going to let myself slip into a good mood.
In fact, I end up singing with off-key enthusiasm in front of my mirror.The baby carrot I’m holding isn’t the best microphone, but who cares, right?Not I.
Until the song ends and I’m crunching down on the carrot and finally getting a good look at my reflection.Then I care.
Not about the carrot—no, once again, I suddenly care about the way I look.My black work clothes aren’t unflattering, but underneath them….As my eyes drift over my body, I can’t help feeling heavy.
Can’t help comparing how I look to how Icouldlook.To how Iused tolook.
Although it’s always been clear that some of my mom’s curviness got passed down to me, I still used to be smaller than I am now.Not outright tiny, just smaller.I weighed less than I do these days.I looked better in fitted clothes and didn’t have to worry much about what suited the shape of my body.I felt decently comfortable in swimsuits during the summers.I can even recall being confident the year Halloween showed up oddly warm, when my friends and I were eighteen; our beloved Powerpuff Girl costumes took a sassy turn, and we fully rocked the midriff-baring tops we wore with our tutus and sparkly shorts.
Luke used to think I was beautiful.
The unexpected thought catches me off-guard.Once again, my insides turn into a swirl of blurred emotions.
I realize I’ve stopped chewing my carrot and gone droopy in the shoulders.I meet the clouding green eyes of my reflection.
My stomach twists over how things with him were back in those days…
…and over how he was eyeballing Marcus’s new girl earlier…
…and over the way he looked at me afterwards…
…and over the new thought invading my mind.
Did Marcus leave me because he stopped liking how I look?
