by Katie Cross
For a moment, I toyed with a dangerous thought: should I buy a small tub of popcorn?
No.
I chuckled, shaking my head. What would people in the forums say on my calorie-counting app? They always looked at my menus and saw me as a leader.
Sometimes I had the craziest ideas.
“This place smells the way I want the inside of my casket to smell.” Mira sucked in a deep breath. “Popcorn for eternity. I’m going to talk to my pastor about it and put it in my will.”
I laughed.
A pimply teenager handed our movie tickets back to us. He tossed his long, greasy hair out of his face with a jerk of his head, jabbing his finger down the hall.
“Second theater on your left.”
Two kids raced by and ducked into a theater on the right. I watched them go, wondering what Lana and Lizzy were doing. Were the photos underway? No, that would be tomorrow. Daniel had probably bought them a puppy. No, Jade probably bought them a puppy while showering glitter from her fingertips. I grimaced. If a puppy ever entered the picture, the girls would have to keep it there.
The havoc and hair weren’t worth it.
“I need to go check on my brother again next week,” Mira said. “I’m going to miss the next meeting.”
“Everything okay?”
She frowned. “Not sure. More heart issues. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“What about the store?”
“I’ll close it until I return. Traffic has been slow, anyway. We don’t have any vacuum or sewing machine repairs in right now. I’m so excited about this movie.” She reached into her oversized purse. “I’ve heard only amazing things about Stephanie James.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“A Breath Away is one of her first blockbuster films,” she said, eyes narrowed on the board above the snacks. “Although she’s done many others. I’ve been eating really good today so that I could have a little treat and enjoy myself, so no judging.”
“I thought you weren’t calorie counting.”
“I’m not. And that tub of popcorn just called my name.”
I groaned inwardly but looked away without a word, although I caught her sneaking furtive glances my way. Mira would test my willpower.
Content to people-watch—what on earth were the teenage girls wearing these days? Lizzy would never even see a skirt that short!—I leaned back, taking in the freedom this evening afforded me. Not to mention that this form of self-care felt a little safer. It was my first time attempting something so blatantly for me since talking with Janine.
Mira returned a few minutes later, carrying a container piled high with fluffy yellow kernels. “Look! I was able to upgrade for free with points! Bargain shopping at its finest.”
My stomach growled.
Just as we turned to go into the theater, a familiar high-and-tight haircut caught my gaze. Jim was passing a movie ticket to the same gangly teenager.
Jim wore a simple t-shirt and jeans tonight. Was he on a date?
No. He seemed to be alone.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get the picture of him using glass cleaner to scrub his couch out of my mind. Or him standing below Lana, barking orders while she was about to plummet to the ground.
My eyes lingered only a moment before he accepted his ticket and turned down the hall by himself—staring right at me. He jerked to a stop, narrowed his gaze, then walked forward again. I closed my mouth, barely aware it had opened.
“Hello, Bitsy,” Jim said, approaching with easy strides. He gave Mira a wry smile. “Bitsy’s friend.”
Mira’s eyes widened. “Hello,” she drawled. “I’m Mira.”
He accepted her handshake.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Shopping for bug spray.”
Mira snorted. I glared at her.
Jim motioned to his ticket. “What do you think I’m doing at a movie theater?”
“What movie?”
I snatched the ticket out of his hand. He had to be such a smart aleck. A Breath Away. Oh. Same movie as us. I felt ill.
“You like romantic comedies?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I have my reasons.”
“Great,” Mira said. “That’s where we’re going. It’s supposed to be one of the best romances of the year. C’mon. Let’s get going before we miss any good seats. You can sit with us, Jim.”
She kicked me in the back of the leg, but I couldn’t glare at her without Jim noticing. Instead, I passed the ticket back, and the three of us headed for the theater with Mira chattering in the background. Jim walked right next to me. I stepped forward a little bit, coming just ahead of him. He didn’t seem to notice.
He’ll go somewhere else, I thought. He’s not really going to sit with us.
Then my eyes darted back to him. He came alone? I’d never thought about going to a movie by myself. Did people actually do that?
The idea wasn’t half bad, once I thought it over.
“Oh, how perfect.” Mira pointed to three empty chairs right next to each other as we stepped into the theater. “It’s fate.”
Jim hesitated for a beat too long.
Say no! I wanted to beg him. Say no, and spare us both this awkward night.
“Thank you, Mira,” he said instead and headed into the aisle first.
Drat! I wanted to scream. This would be the most awkward movie of my life.
Mira, easily finagling herself so I had to sit in the middle, shot me a wink. I scowled at her but settled into the seat, making sure my arm didn’t touch the rest between the chairs. Jim leaned back, one ankle crossed over his other knee, like a lazy cat settling in. Oh, sure. He would be comfortable despite the tension.
The previews hadn’t started yet, and the voices of other moviegoers buzzed behind us.
“Talk to him!” Mira hissed in my right ear. “You’re being rude.”
“So,” I said to Jim as the lights dimmed. A commercial for the theater flickered across the screen. “Did you come alone tonight?”
“Yep.”
“Do you come to movies by yourself often?”
“Yep.”
“But that takes all the fun out of it.”
He didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Not for me.”
Hint taken, I relaxed back in the chair. At least he wouldn’t expect me to entertain him. Mira leaned forward, extending her tub of popcorn.
“Popcorn, Jim?”
He reached for it as if they’d been friends their whole lives. “Sure. Thank you, Mira.”
The scent tempted me yet again, but I clutched my water bottle and breathed through my mouth. Halfway back, he paused, dangling the popcorn right in front of me. The buttery scent filled my nostrils.
“Bitsy?” he asked. “A little indulgence for your Saturday night?”
I lifted a hand. “No, thanks.”
“To popcorn?”
“I’m watching what I eat.”
“You can still watch it. Right down your throat.”
“No thanks.”
“Healthy eating takes all the fun out of a movie experience.”
Mira choked on her drink. I pressed my lips together to calm my rising retort—it wasn’t very nice—but I wasn’t entirely successful.
“Not for me,” I quipped back. “And you’ll regret that tonight when you get heartburn.”
He chortled. “I’ve tossed down MREs for two weeks straight, eaten roadkill, and had an Afghani meal with local leaders without using a single utensil. No popcorn is going to disturb this stomach of steel.”
The previews started, saving me from asking him to explain. Surely, he was kidding. No one actually ate road kill … did they?
I crossed my arms and tried to concentrate on a preview for an upcoming thriller. After a few minutes, Jim handed the popcorn tub back to Mira with a smile of thanks. Grudgingly, I admitted he had a rugged sort of attractiveness in an I-don’t-care-about-what-you-think kind of way.
“It’s just popcorn, Bitsy,” Mira said quietly, leaning close so only I would hear. “That’s it. It’s not going to kill you, calories notwithstanding.”
Despite myself, her words rang in my ears. It was just popcorn.
Another preview rolled across the screen. A romantic comedy. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jim pull a package of peanut butter chocolate candies out of his pocket and tear open one corner. He popped one into his mouth.
What a dream.
Without giving myself another moment to consider, I reached over and plucked a few kernels of popcorn out of Mira’s tub. Her eyes widened. She froze. I crunched two of them, staring blankly at the screen. I couldn’t close my eyes to really enjoy the interplay of sweet popcorn and salty butter, but I wanted to. What if Jim saw? He’d think me insane.
Maybe I was.
The popcorn squeaked a little as I sucked the toppings off. Mira, the she-devil, had added just a little extra butter. Just as I’d dreamed it would, the flavor made my knees weak. Daniel and I used to have picnics on our floor when we were first married. A movie, popcorn, sometimes dinner, and a delicious dessert. They’d been magical evenings … at first.
Then the fighting started.
The popcorn crunched as I killed it with my teeth.
“See?” Mira asked. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I opened my mouth to respond when Jim nudged me with his elbow. He extended the bag of candy, brow raised. A challenge lingered in his hazel eyes. A hint of amusement, even. Something in his smug expression made me wonder.
“Well?” he asked. “Are you on a fast from all enjoyable foods, or just popcorn? Because peanut butter and chocolate are the holy grail of desserts.”
For a moment, I was tempted to refuse it simply because Jim had offered. Then I thought about him coaxing Lana down the tree, teaching both her—and me—about her own strength. I’d get a leg up on him one day. Maybe even today.
I held out my palm.
“I can live on the wild side,” I said. “I’ll take one. Thank you.”
He smirked, dropping four in my palm, then four more in Mira’s. Full darkness covered the room as the movie started. I leaned back in the reclining seat, sinking farther into the cushions. One at a time, I ate the four candies. They tasted sweet. Crunchy. Like childhood and parenthood and a few bites of happiness all combined.
Once I finished, I entwined my fingers on my lap and leaned back. Jim shuffled beside me, his arms folded across his chest, the wrapper curled up in the drink rest.
With a deep breath, I turned my attention to the movie and laughed my way through the first joke, relieved.
To: Janine Morgan
From: Bitsy Walker
Subject: Self-Care Day 12
Janine,
I went to a movie with a friend—no children—and had some popcorn and four pieces of candy. It was a rom-com. Honestly, didn’t really like it. The movie itself was fine, but I find happily-ever-afters a bit annoying.
In terms of self-care, it was nice to get out of the house and do something different, although I still stressed about calories and the girls and everything else.
I did enjoy learning something about myself. Next time, I’ll try straight comedy, no romance.
BW
To: Bitsy Walker
From: Janine Morgan
Subject: Re: Self-Care Day 12
Bitsy,
Congrats! I’m so proud of you! Was the movie A Breath Away? I loved that one. Stephanie James has really made a big name for herself. I see the next Sandra Bullock in her.
Interesting about your stress levels. Did you feel you lacked control of your girls, so you thought about your calories? (Something you could control.)
If that’s the case, I want you to start pondering how you can let go of your control of one situation to enjoy another.
Let me know how that goes.
J
To: Janine Morgan
From: Bitsy Walker
Subject: Re: re: Self-Care Day 12
I hadn’t really thought of that. Maybe. I’ll give it more thought this week.
Today, my self-care was sitting on the back porch in the sun for twenty minutes while the girls were with their dad. I fell asleep for some of it. I think naps may be high on my list, and may perhaps extend my self-care time beyond twenty minutes.
BW
Chapter 9
The Hard Thing
New THHS Check-In Conversation Opened in WonderFriendApp
Opened by: BITSY
Bitsy: Meeting tomorrow, 6:30 p.m. Mira will be gone to check on her brother. Anyone else? The article is on the debate over whether coconut oil is good for you or not.
Rachelle: Sorry, William has a gig, and I’ll probably have to work late on another cake and a batch of cupcake orders. I’ll have to miss out this week.
Megan: Night hike for me! Sorry, Bits. Please send the article my way. Those heart people keep messing up the facts. It’s in. It’s out. *annoyed face* I’m interested to see what they’re saying now.
Mira: Sorry to miss you all—love you!
Lexie: Looks like it’s just you and me in the old Mackenzie mansion, Bits.
Rachelle: Dear heavens, Lexie is spouting movie lines again.
Megan: Father of the Bride 2!
Lexie: Megan wins! Brownies all around.
Bitsy: Tomorrow evening it is. See you then, Lexie. To the rest of you, please be prepared for next week. I will book an extra fifteen minutes for catch-up.
Conversation CLOSED by BITSY
“Here we are,” Lexie drawled, eyes twinkling. “The only two survivors left after the field of life took everyone else from us.”
She grinned on my computer screen, her ponytail swinging around her face. Someone bustled in the background—Bradley, it looked like—of their small apartment kitchen. A collection of dishes were scattered on the counter, and a pile of laundry peeked on camera next to her. I couldn’t help a smile. When was the last time it had been just Lexie and me?
Years, at least.
“This should be fun,” I said. “Just like old times.”
“Except Mira should be there.”
“She missed once or twice.”
“Probably just once.”
The sound of Lana shooting something with her imaginary guns rang in the background. Lizzy was sprawled on the couch, reading a new fairytale book from the library.
Lexie leaned forward, eyes wide. “So, Bits. What are we going to talk about? Now that it’s just you and me, you can’t dodge updating me on your life. And now I can get the gossip. Please, tell me you have some.”
“I never dodge.”
“You never tell, either.”
“So,” I said, “how was your week?”
She sighed, shooting me an annoyed expression. Something glimmered in her eyes but quickly disappeared. “See? Never mind. Busy. Other than finding a job, and attempting to learn how to cook stew the same way my mother-in-law does, not much is new. Life kind of has a pattern, doesn’t it?”
“It does. How are you positioned with food?”
“Fine.” She shrugged. “There have been lots of summery treats, but I’ve had them in moderation and enjoyed them. I mean, it’s summer. Watermelon, cool whip, and sugar-cookie pizza have to happen.”
“Good for you.”
“And you?”
My stomach knotted. Coordinating others talking about themselves was one thing; I loved listening to updates. But purposefully turning the attention on myself felt unnatural. Besides, how was I even going to summarize all that I’d been trying? That had been happening?
I hadn’t exactly been open with them.
“Ah … it’s been … interesting.”
“I smell drama. Drama!” she sang. “Explain! Did you drop off the calorie-counting bandwagon? Did you miss a morning walk? Gasp! Bitsy, did you actually eat a brownie?”
“No!”
“A girl can hope. Di
d you eat an entire cake by yourself?”
My nostrils flared. “No. But, ah … I actually wanted to discuss something with you that—”
“No diverting! We get to talk about you today.”
“It applies, I promise. I’m … I’m trying to do more self-care.”
“Sweet.”
Her lack of startled response registered in my mind several seconds later. I blinked. “Sweet?”
“Yeah. Sweet. What are you doing?”
“Uh … well, I guess I’m trying to figure that out. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“And?”
“I’m having …” I swallowed and ducked my head. I’m supposed to be the leader. I can’t show weakness. I tried to drown the thoughts. “I’m having a hard time doing it.”
“What? I couldn’t hear you.”
“I’m having a hard time!”
“Just kidding. Sorry, I had to. Tell me why,” she said. No annoyance or judgment colored her tone. Nothing but eagerness. Maybe relief. Had she been worried?
“I haven’t taken much time for myself the past several years, and … I’ve kind of … forgotten how. I don’t really know what I like. It’s like being a mom has just … absorbed me.”
“Besides cleaning, working out, and counting calories, you mean.”
But do I even really love those things? Did I love exercise? Or were my workouts propelled by guilt instead of love? It was a blurry line.
“There’s a lot going on with Daniel and his wife. I’m hoping self-care can help me work through it.”
“Sounds good to me. Is it working?”
“I don’t know what self-care is anymore.”
“What do you do for fun?”
“I don’t know.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“I wanted to see what you did.”
Self-care should be simpler than I was making it—but it wasn’t. It wasn’t the doing that I hated. It was the letting go. Lexie tilted her head back, eyes tapered.
“Can food be self-care?” she asked. “Or Little Debbie snacks? We all know that’s where I’m at!”
Trust Lexie to own herself with such strength. I felt another floundering moment of jealousy.
