Page 16 of Everything We Thought Was True
“Please be home on time for dinner, Frank,” she said, hating that she sounded like a nagging wife.
“I’ll be home for dinner—promise. And I’ll bring bread from Arthur Avenue.” He smiled.
She loved that fresh Italian bread. It would go perfectly with the stuffed manicotti she was planning to make.
“Thank you,” she said, leaning into him for another kiss on her forehead. He obliged, and she felt her defenses weaken. It was hard to stay annoyed with him.
“Have fun at the beach today with the kids.” He headed to the door then added, “And that cousin of yours.” He snickered and left.
She knew he wasn’t fond of Veronica. Ronnie, as everyone called her, had a sharp tongue and a thick New York accent and was always too quick to speak her mind. Teresa didn’t disagree. But she was her cousin, and she loved her. Ronnie had her faults but was loyal to the core. She wasn’t only a cousin to Teresa but also a trusted friend and confidante. She would always have Teresa’s back, and spending time with Ronnie helped Teresa get a short-lived reprieve from the loneliness caused by Frank’s increased absence.
Teresa went to her dresser and grabbed her bathing suit out of the bottom drawer. She looked forward to some time at the beach but knew that meant wearing a bathing suit, which she dreaded. Thank goodness she still had a maillot on hand, left over from years before, when one-piece bathing suits with attached skirts were all the rage. She pulled out the suit, which covered as much skin as possible, and squeezed her body into it, then eyed her reflection in the mirror and sighed.
Lena had measured nine pounds and twenty-one inches at birth. A huge baby. Teresa had gained a lot of weight during the pregnancy. She didn’t know how much because she refused to look at the scale when they weighed her at OB-GYN checkups. But it had been several months since Lena was born, and none of the weight had come off. In fact, more of it was piling on. The first number on the scale was most definitely a two.
On the nights when Frank didn’t come home for dinner, she’d put the kids to bed and fix herself a salad or cottage cheese and fresh fruit, determined to get her weight down. But as the clock ticked on, another type of hunger would appear. The apartment would fall into an unnatural silence, and she’d catch herself staring at the door for indefinite lengths of time, willing it to open, willing Frank to come home. His absence wormed a hole inside Teresa, an emptiness that resembled hunger but that she couldn’t satisfy with anything. Many nights, she’d sit at the window, waiting for the rumble of Frank’s Cadillac to end the silence. In the hours since her lean dinner, she’d grow so empty—and so hungry—that she’d sneak back into the kitchen, open the fridge, and stuff down anything she found there. It seemed fitting, almost defiant, to let herself indulge in food despite her growing weight and absent husband. But when morning arrived, shedding light over her sizable curves, her body would ache with a new pain—a new disappointment.
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, irritated to find herself crying.Snap out of it.There was no reason to sit around wallowing. Loneliness was only a temporary state, one that she could get relief from once Frank wasn’t spending so many nights away from home. It was just a phase, she told herself. In the meantime, she would enjoy time at the beach.
Teresa picked up Lena from the crib and finished getting her ready. Anthony trailed in, holding his favorite stuffed animal, a little lamb called Mary, who he’d named after the nursery rhyme Teresasang to him. He adored that ratty little blue lamb, even though it was missing an eye and the stuffing was coming out in multiple places. Teresa slipped his bathing suit on over his diaper, and he happily waddled away, the pathetic stuffed animal still in hand.
She walked into the kitchen and grabbed the sandwiches and snacks she’d packed for the beach, along with the baby food and bottles from the refrigerator. As she stuffed them inside her beach bag, a thought entered her mind, and she almost let out a gasp. Addiction ran in her family like an insidious disease. Her father had been an alcoholic. Her brother Marco struggled with drugs.What if food is my drug of choice?
Teresa relished the role that food and cooking played in her life. She could recall meals from important moments of her life: her grandmother’s homemade lentil soup on the day of her Holy Communion, her aunt’s homemade gnocchi on her thirteenth birthday, her mother’s escarole and beans on Easter. Food was a way to show love. She wondered if her relationship with food would be soured along with her not-so-perfect marriage.
Teresa sat on her beach chair next to Ronnie at Shore Beach in New Rochelle. Ronnie wore a string bikini and was holding a sun reflector under her face. Not that she needed to be any tanner. Ronnie was so dark people often thought she was from a Caribbean island, like Puerto Rico, as opposed to being Italian American. Her fancy suntan oil, Bain de Soleil, smelled like coconut and shea butter. She had long shapely legs, gorgeous black silky hair that fell to the middle of her back, wide hips, and deep-set cleavage. She was what most people called drop-dead gorgeous.
Ronnie was a permanent fixture at Shore Beach. Pretty much on any summer day, she could be found sitting with her chair in the sand, reflector under her face, soaking up the sun, gettingtanner and tanner. She would look up now and again to check on her kids, but pretty much everyone at Shore Beach parented the kids in the baby beach area, so Ronnie benefited from a village of onlookers giving her ample time to bake in the sun.
Not Teresa. She sat under an umbrella in her one-piece bathing suit that covered a significant portion of her neck and torso—and even hips and thighs with its attached skirt—and tried not to get too much direct sun. She didn’t have the typical olive complexion many Italians were lucky to have been born with. Her skin was very fair, and when she got too much sun, she turned pink.
Teresa leaned over to check on Lena, who was still happily napping under the cover of the umbrella on the towel. Anthony was playing in the sand next to her, and Teresa looked at his drooly smile and melted. It would take extra long to get all the sand off him in the bath that night, but watching how content he was, she knew it would be worth it. She picked up theCosmopolitanRonnie had brought and flipped through it. Teresa had never been a fan of this magazine. If you’d read one article, you’d read them all. “How to Become a Better Homemaker,” “Ten Ways to Make the Man of Your Dreams Fall in Love With You,” “How to Tell if Your Husband Is Cheating.” The heat rose in her cheeks, and she glanced at Ronnie. Luckily, Ronnie had her eyes closed. Teresa shifted in her seat so Ronnie couldn’t see the page and started reading.
He has mood swings.Check. Frank had a temper and had been moody. She chalked it up to his heritage.
He dresses better.Well, Frank always took care with what he wore, so that wouldn’t be a clue.
He drops the name of the person he’s cheating with into conversation to throw you off course.
She thought a minute.Hmm, who does he mention often?There weren’t that many women at his workplace. In fact, other than the receptionist, who was a much older woman, Teresa couldn’t think ofany. There were quite a few ladies Frank flirted with at the boat club, but it seemed innocent enough. At least she hoped so. This one had her stumped.
He doesn’t initiate sex as often.As Teresa thought about it, she realized they hadn’t been having sex as often as they used to. Frank had turned to her less in bed. It was a gradual sliding away, so subtle as to be almost imperceptible, but it occurred to Teresa that she and Frank hadn’t made love in over a month. Sure, they had two babies who took up her time and energy. And Frank wasn’t home as much these days. But their infrequent sex wasn’t a sure sign he was having sex with someone else.
Frustrated, Teresa threw down the stupid magazine. She thought about it over and over, yet she still felt clueless. She was missing something.
Ronnie took one last drag on her Kool menthol cigarette, blew out the smoke, and put it out in the empty can of Fresca stuck in the sand. Teresa tried not to breathe in the noxious fumes, thankful the wind was blowing in the opposite direction. She hated smoke.
Ronnie glanced over at her with a serious look on her face. “Teresa, honey, I want to tell you something, but please don’t get mad, okay?”
Teresa nodded, already worried about what Ronnie might say. Ronnie could shoot her mouth off one moment with a brutal honesty that hurt Teresa’s feelings then, in the next second, could be so compassionate. She had a reputation for being quite direct, something Teresa both feared and admired.
“Teresa, you know I love you, honey. But you’re getting really big. It's not healthy. And it's not flattering.”
Teresa stared at Ronnie, wide-eyed.Okay, wow. That’s definitely blunt.
Ronnie gave Teresa a gentle smile. “Have you thought about maybe trying Weight Watchers? Lots of women havesuccess with it.” Her voice was kinder and quieter than the biting tone of a moment ago.
Teresa knew how popular Weight Watchers was but doubted that Ronnie had any firsthand experience with it. Ronnie had been born with that lithe body, and Teresa had never seen her struggle with an extra pound a day in her life.
