“Don’t speak like that,” Jane demanded angrily, disturbed by the fact that her teen-aged daughter now had the mouth of a truck driver.
“They’re just words,” Emma argued.
“Words I don’t want you saying,” Jane replied.
Emma kept quiet. At least she didn’t yell back, Jane thought. She was starting to think that maybe Emma just needed some good old-fashioned punishment after all. She planned to temporarily suspend Emma’s cell phone service as soon as they arrived home.
She was still disheartened about hearing Emma say that she wanted to move out. She hoped it was just an idle threat. She couldn’t stand the thought of Emma leaving her, even if she caused her such pain and heartache. She would fight tooth and nail to keep Emma at home with her, even if she had to spend the rest of her pension to hire an attorney.
The remainder of the ride home was quiet. Emma stared out of her window while Jane kept her eyes glued to the road. Traffic moved along well. When they pulled into the driveway, Emma dashed out the car and into the house, making it clear that she expected Jane to carry her bag inside.
Jane, still in her pajamas, looked around to make sure that no one was around. There was no one close enough to notice her, so she quickly pressed the button to open her trunk, got out of the car and walked around to the back. She struggled to release the heavy, bulky bag from the spot it had settled into. She flung it over her shoulder, wincing, as she closed the trunk and hurried into the house.
She dropped the bag in the foyer. There was no way she was going to carry it up to Emma’s room. Maybe if Emma had asked her nicely for help...but she knew that would never happen. The bag of gifts was home, let Emma figure out what to do with it. Jane walked upstairs to her bedroom. She needed a shower before doing anything else, even eating. She had been starving a short while ago. Now she barely had an appetite.
Emma peeked out of her room as she heard Jane’s footsteps ascending the stairs.
“Where are my gifts?” she asked, with her usual vile attitude.
“Downstairs, in the foyer,” Jane responded as she walked past Emma and into her bedroom. She could hear Emma whining and complaining, saying something about her being fat and lazy, but she didn’t pay much attention to her insults. It didn’t faze her much now. Perhaps she had grown used to them. All she cared about at the moment was getting out of her sweaty pajamas and into a nice,
hot shower. “Calgon, take me away,” she said jokingly as she turned on the water. Then she grinned childishly as she thought, “Eric, take me away.” She wondered if she would ever hear from him again.
~11~
Emma was annoyed that Jane left her bag downstairs. Now she would either have to drag it upstairs by herself or bring the gifts up a little at a time. There was no way that she was going to ask Jane for help. She decided on the latter option and bounded downstairs eagerly even though she was still upset about not having Kelly’s gift.
She felt a sense of sadness as she stooped down beside the bag. Normally Jane and Sarah would both be sharing her excitement as she opened each card, each gift. Jane would have to repeatedly tell her to slow down so that she could write down the name of the person who had given Emma the gift in order to send out thank-you cards. Jane always urged Emma to complete them herself, but when it went undone after two weeks, she took it upon herself to fill out the cards and send them out. Emma thought about grabbing a piece of paper and a pen so that she could record the information. In the end, she sat on the floor in the foyer and just started unwrapping.
The first gift was a small, flat package, wrapped in the prettiest gift wrapping paper, tied with curling ribbon. Whoever wrapped this one took great care in doing so. Emma thought it must have come from one of her best, best friends—or former best friend—she reminded herself sadly. She figured it was probably Sarah’s gift to her.
She pulled off the ribbon and unwrapped the gift. It was a very pretty gold necklace and earring set. Emma “oohed and aaahed” as she examined it carefully. There were semi-precious stones in the prettiest colors. She loved it. She opened the accompanying card anxiously. To her surprise, it was from Jim. She was touched by his choice in gifts, which, to her, proved that he liked her—or at least did up until yesterday. She set the box aside, suppressing the urge to cry, and distracted herself with another gift.
The second gift was bigger and heavier. There was a card attached. She opened the card first. It was from her friend Melissa. She had only known Melissa for a few months and had invited her
simply because she was rich and popular. She was pleasantly surprised to see that Melissa had actually shown up. Although she, too, probably hated her now, Emma reasoned.
She tore at the wrapping paper. It was a pretty, decorative silver-toned picture frame. The word “friends” appeared on top in big, bold letters. Emma smiled. Another nice gift, she thought.
She continued to unwrap her presents, finding more frames,
articles of clothing, jewelry, trinkets, a jewelry box, gift cards, gift certificates, cash and a few checks written by her friends’ parents, which she folded and stuffed into her back pocket. Sarah had given her a makeup set and a gift card to her favorite store in the mall. She couldn’t wait to go shopping.
As anticipated, the gift from Kelly was not amongst the pile. She just knew that one of those idiots from Sierra Gardens had taken it, along with who knew how many other gifts. She grabbed several of her gifts, as many as she could hold, and carried them up to her room. She placed them on her bed and walked back downstairs to get some more.
It took Emma seven trips back and forth to finally get all of the presents to her room. She always believed that she was in good physical shape, but by the third trip up the stairs, she was exhausted and had to slow down. She felt dizzy on her way upstairs during the sixth trip and had to sit down on her bed for a few minutes. The only reason she had enough strength to finish the job was because it made her angry to think of herself as weak and lazy—like Jane. She didn’t want to be anything at all like Jane. So she pushed herself to retrieve all of the remaining gifts that were waiting downstairs, knowing that there weren’t that many left to bring up.
When she was done at last, she flung herself down upon the small space left on her bed beside all of her gifts. She felt nauseous. She didn’t have anything to eat since the few vegetables she had nibbled on at the party. She hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, but today she was in the mood for a bacon cheeseburger. She had resolved never to eat such fatty, unhealthy foods. There was no way she was going to end up blubbery like Jane.
She thought about going back downstairs to grab herself a slice of turkey. Her stomach rumbled. As she began to sit up slowly, she looked at her thighs. They looked huge to her. She poked at her right thigh and thought she could feel it jiggle. She grimaced in
disgust. She was turning into Jane. The thought made her feel sick to her stomach with dread.
For the past few months she had been trying so hard to lose weight. At first, she had only intended to lose enough weight to “look good at the party.” She had lost so much weight in such a short period that her pretty peach dress, which had been custom-tailored to fit her size five body looked terrible on her now that she was a size zero. It hung unflatteringly on her and looked as though she had borrowed it from a bigger sibling.
Emma knew she had lost some weight but didn’t attribute the loose fit of the dress to all of the pounds that she had shed. Instead, naturally, she had blamed it on Jane. Jane had ripped her dress and when she took it to be repaired, they failed to sew it up properly. To Emma, it wasn’t that she was smaller now, but rather, that the dress had been returned bigger.
Equally ludicrous, she still believed that she was fat even though her ribs could easily be counted when under the few remaining snug-fitting tee shirts she owned. Her arms and legs were terribly slender. They looked almost skeletal. Her hair, once full and beautiful, looked thin and dull. Her skin was dry and flaky, ev
en on her face, which had tended to be oily. Her eyes started to look sunken in and her cheekbones looked oddly high and pointy. She looked like a different girl entirely from the beautiful, robust, healthy-looking girl she had been months earlier.
Emma’s stomach growled again, even louder, as her mind thought about onion rings, meatball heroes, pizza and all the other fatty foods she had been depriving herself of. She knew if she ate anything bad like that, she would look like Jane in no time at all. Her head ached and she felt weak. She stood up slowly, feeling as though she might lose her balance. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a full, decent meal. She had been picking around her meals, when she bothered to eat at all. She drank plenty of water, and nothing else. A chocolate shake sounded like heaven to her at the moment.
She walked slowly and carefully down the stairs, holding on to the banister for support. She knew she had to eat something. She needed strength and energy to perform her daily exercise workout.
She needed to stay fit.
She walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerated. She
browsed the shelves. She pulled out a plastic container wondering what it contained. She peeked under the lid and saw that it was the tuna salad Jane had prepared the night before. She closed the lid and returned the container to the refrigerator. Too smelly and fattening, she thought.
She couldn’t find any healthy, appropriate foods. She pulled out a tomato, cut two thin slices and put them on a small dish. Lunch was served.
Jane heard Emma stirring in the kitchen. She felt a little better now that she had taken a shower and put on some decent clothing.
She walked downstairs and saw the empty bag lying on the foyer floor. She picked it up and shook it to make sure nothing had been left within. Then she crumpled it up into a ball and carried it with her into the kitchen. She found Emma putting the tomato back in the refrigerator. She had already finished eating the two little tomato slices and had placed the dish in the sink. Jane assumed she had made herself a sandwich.
As Jane made her entrance, Emma silently walked past her and back up to her room. It reminded Jane that she had to suspend Emma’s cell phone service. She figured one week without service would be a good starting point, but then as she thought about it, she realized that Emma’s birthday was just four days away. She decided that she would resume the service on Emma’s birthday. She threw the garbage bag away and washed her hands.
Jane had planned to make herself a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich, but decided to have a healthier salad instead. She filled a bowl with romaine and endive lettuces, baby spinach leaves, chopped tomatoes, chick peas and shredded carrots. She pulled out a container from the refrigerator that had some leftover roasted chicken. She cut a piece into small strips and added it to her salad. Then she gave her salad a small spritz of light Italian dressing. She grabbed a fork and carried her food into the dining room.
For once, Jane was proud of herself. She had started standing up for herself, taking back control and finally giving Emma some much-needed discipline. She had also been eating far less lately—smaller portions of healthier meals. The abdominal pains she constantly felt had initially been the main driving force behind this new “diet” of hers. It simply hurt too much to eat the spicy, acidic foods she usually enjoyed. Sometimes she didn’t have much of an
appetite, if any. For years, she had indulged in heaping servings of cookies, cake and ice cream every time that she was upset. Now, as it had once been long ago when Emma first started Kindergarten,
Jane found that when she got very upset she couldn’t eat at all. It made her anxiety and depression worth it—at least something good could come of it.
Now, with the prospect of Eric in her future, there was all the more reason to continue her new diet. She was finally motivated to lose weight and keep the pounds off for good. She thought about Eric, how perfect he seemed. Was he really, truly interested in her? So far, he hadn’t called her, but it was not yet three in the afternoon, there was still time. She knew that she shouldn’t be so eager, but she couldn’t help it.
Her stomach pains began to increase. She felt a burning sensation that lingered on. She had barely started eating her salad and pushed it aside. The nervous excitement she was experiencing over Eric was not helping her gastrointestinal issues. She hoped the pain would subside, at least to its usual dull ache. Maybe the Italian dressing was too acidic. She was still hungry, even with the pain. She walked back into the kitchen with the bowl, covered it with a piece of foil, placed it on one of the shelves and pulled out the package of sliced turkey. She rolled up a few slices and placed them on a dish. She hoped it would better agree with her stomach.
Jane returned to the dining room and sat down. The fire in her stomach continued to rage on. She nibbled on the turkey slowly. The pain seemed just as bad, if not worse. She couldn’t even finish the turkey. She walked slowly to the kitchen, placed the dish in the refrigerator, uncovered, and walked back upstairs to her bedroom. She needed to lie down.
Jane grabbed her laptop computer and took it with her to the bed. She logged on to her cellular phone service company’s website and arranged for service on Emma’s cell phone to be temporarily suspended until her birthday. She wondered how long it would take for Emma to realize what she had done. Probably not too long, and she was sure to be livid. She dreaded the confrontation that would inevitably occur between them. No matter what, though, she would not give in.
Emma had not used her cell phone since she called Sarah earlier that morning. There was no reason to. No one cared to talk to her
any longer. It was driving her crazy. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. She should be out with friends, not confined to her bedroom. She had sorted her gifts and put most of them away.
None of the clothing she received fit her. They would have to be exchanged for smaller sizes. She thought about going to the mall to use some of her gift cards, but it was too far a distance to walk and there was no way Emma was getting back into the car with Jane. She wondered whether she should try calling Marcy...maybe even Claudia. Yet, Claudia had specifically warned her not to call. Marcy was more easy-going. She couldn’t still be angry at her. And she loved to shop just as much as Emma did.
Emma was about to pick up her cell phone when she noticed an alert message on her computer screen, informing her that she had new email. She sat at her computer desk to read her email. She had fourteen new messages. Most were just spam mail, but six of them were from her friends. She smiled, relieved that they were no longer mad at her. She opened the first one. It was from Taryn—the chubby girl whom she had insulted. It read:
Emma,
I don’t even know what to say to you. I thought we were friends. How could you embarrass me like that in front of everyone? You made me feel like crap and you didn’t even apologize. Me and Claudia think your mean, selfish, and
stupid. I’m not too fat, your too skinny. And by the way your party sucked.
Taryn
Emma was beside herself. She replied, “screw you, you fat bitch.” Then she opened the next email. It was from Claudia and Emma knew it would be just as bad—no, worse, than Taryn’s email.
She was right:
You’ve got alot of nerve treating people like shit. I don’t even know why I went to your stupid boring party, I dont
even like you and I’m not the only one. Everyone thinks
you’re a crazy bitch. You can’t even be nice to your own mother.
Emma wrote, “drop dead, bitch,” and hit the send button. The other emails were just as bad. They were from Marcy, Jim, Kelly, and Sarah. The theme was all the same—how selfish she was, how lame the party was, how cruel she had been, how they didn’t want to be her friend anymore, etc. Emma found Jim’s email hurtful. He told her how much he had liked her up until the party. He said he was planning to ask her to the holiday dance and was glad he didn’t waste his time.
Emma was too embarrassed to respond to him. She couldn’t believe
he had actually liked her and was going to ask her out. She would have had a chance with him if Jane didn’t embarrass her and ruin everything. She felt sick to her stomach.
As depressing as Jim’s email was, it did not hurt Emma nearly as much as Sarah’s email did. It read:
Emma,
I always thought you were my best friend. But yesterday I realized that you’re not my friend at all. I don’t know whats gotten into you. You’re mean to everyone, especially your mom, even if you dont want to admit it. What
happened? You used to be so much fun to hang out with. Now you insult everyone and act like everyone’s out to get you. You used to be able to tell me what was bothering you. Now you shut me out. I used to be able to give you my opinion, now if I say something you don’t like hearing, you say I’m wrong or accuse me of taking sides. Well I’ve had it. I cried all night after you kicked me out of your party, even though everyone says I didn’t miss much. You didn’t even call to apologize, you called and acted as if everything
was fine, then told me to drop dead. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the one who’s dead. The friendship we used to have is dead and I will never talk to you again. Don’t bother writing back, I don’t care what you have to say.
Sarah
Emma swallowed hard. She felt like both screaming and crying. She no longer had a best friend. She no longer had any friends. It was as though they had all gotten together and decided to start hating her. What did she ever do to them to deserve this? Nothing. She didn’t do a thing. It was all Jane’s fault. Fat, stupid, pathetic Jane.
Emma felt dizzy. She deleted the emails and shut her computer off. She swiped the remaining gifts that were on her bed onto the floor and flung herself upon the bed where she cried quietly, cursing Jane, her friends, her father, even her own life. She had never before felt so miserable and so alone.
MOTHER: A Novel Page 13
