“Oh, I don’t know…can you ask her without it looking like I wasn’t listening? I really don’t need her mad at me right now.” She rolled her eyes.
“Definitely, don’t even worry about it. We’re all friends, I’ll just say you told me what she said and then I’ll ask her if it’s true.”
Michelle hesitated before agreeing that it was probably the best way. Then, just as I expected might happen next, 1 4 4
P A I G E H A R B I S O N
the ground went away and I found myself in my own din-ing room.
Jillian was eating a banana and reading the nutritional facts on the side of the cereal box, and Michelle was watching me eat a bowl of the cereal. I could feel her longing to have some, but resisting. I caught Michelle’s gaze and looked at her.
“Michelle, eat something.” I said it not like a concerned friend, but like a dictator.
Michelle noticed that, too.
“I’m not hungry, it’s fine,” she responded, speaking loudly over her stomach, which had chosen that inconvenient time to rumble. Michelle figured I wouldn’t hear it, that I’d be busy focusing on what I would say next.
As
usual.
I hated that it was true.
“Michelle.”
“Seriously,
Bridget.”
“What, do you not
like
what I have to eat or something?”
“I’m just not hungry, okay?”
As I looked at my ringing phone, thoughts of a conversation she’d had with Brett were f loating through her mind. She was mad at me. Upset by what I’d done to Brett. Brett, who was secretly her
boyfriend.
Secret because she knew I’d mercilessly make fun of her if I knew. She knew I wouldn’t simply let her be happy. I would only give her crap for it.
I tried to wrap my mind around that concept.
“Fine. As long as you’re not just overreacting to Jillian’s little health freak-out over there. It’s not like she even knows what she’s talking about.”
Michelle was trying to come up with a good excuse for why she wasn’t eating, and trying not to shout at me for always making fun of people, when Meredith came in the room. I was surprised by the admiration Michelle felt looking at her.
1 4 5
She gazed longingly at Meredith’s well-put-together outfit, which hung on her slender frame. I could feel Michelle yearn to look as beautiful as my stepmother.
“Oh, good morning, girls!”
I noticed, as Michelle did, that though Meredith had just put on lipstick, there was not even a tiny smudge on her teeth.
Another small twinge of admiration.
“I’m having a party tonight.”
“Are
you?”
“Yes. I thought your f light wasn’t until four. Are you leaving
now?
”
“Oh, well, I’m meeting up with somebody beforehand and I’ll have about an hour and a half before the shuttle picks me up after that. I just want to be ready to go in case the meeting runs long.”
“Meeting with who?”
Michelle looked at me, suddenly worried what the answer would be.
“Who?”
I asked again.
“John Ezhno.” Michelle looked at Jillian, who had paused halfway through chewing a bite of her banana.
“Really.”
Man, I sounded nasty.
“Yes, does that surprise you?”
Michelle and Jillian both looked at the tennis match-style argument that was ensuing. I felt the small shock that Michelle was feeling. Shock that Meredith was f launting her romance so brashly.
“Um, yes, does
that
surprise
you?
”
“Bridget, stop it.”
“
You
stop it.”
“Bridget, I mean it! You know, I wouldn’t have to keep seeing him if you or your father would just—”
Michelle had the uncomfortable feeling she’d felt so many 1 4 6
P A I G E H A R B I S O N
times at my house. She hated being an innocent bystander stuck in the room with an argument, and, with the way I often acted toward people, it wasn’t unusual to find oneself in that situation.
Michelle looked resolutely at her lap, ignoring the scene around her. It felt like she shouldn’t be there. She looked at Jillian, who was watching Meredith leave the room.
Michelle and Jillian both looked at me, and I was surprised to see that my face had turned red.
“Wha…?” I said around my mouthful of cereal.
They both tried to act like nothing had happened all the way up until Jillian’s phone rang and she had to leave. Then she winked at Michelle.
Jillian gathered up her things, and I heard myself close the door on her. Michelle was sitting by herself on the soft leather sofa set in my living room.
She was thinking of how to talk to me.
She was trying to decide whether to admit something to me, confront me about something or tell me a secret of hers, but I couldn’t tell what any of them were. Her thoughts were f leeting, going by way too fast.
When I slumped down onto the couch and turned on the TV, the feat of trying to have a real conversation with me seemed even harder to Michelle. I felt guilty for being so unapproachable.
“Bridget? Can we talk for a second?”
“Sure.”
Michelle’s heart beat a little faster as adrenaline rose in her chest. “Like, without the TV on?” She watched me sigh as if it was a huge burden to listen to anything she had to say.
“It’s kind of…embarrassing to talk about. I just think…
that you kind of…make me feel bad about myself sometimes.”
Michelle spoke quickly, hoping that I wouldn’t just instantly 1 4 7
act like a bitch. Maybe I’d at least take a
moment
to be compassionate. We were supposed to be friends, after all. Michelle’s hope evaporated when she heard me scoff.
“I
what?”
“It’s just…I’m sensitive about my weight and—”
“Oh,
shut
up,
Michelle.”
I felt the adrenaline in Michelle escalate again. How
dare
Bridget respond with that?
Michelle looked at me. She was thinking of Brett, the conversation about the gym shorts, Outdoor Ed, the many casually offensive comments I’d cast off without thinking.
“No, Bridget, I won’t shut up! You say things all the time that make me feel really bad about myself, and it’s just not okay!”
Michelle wondered for a moment if she should just spit out the truth. But would she be saying it just for the shock factor, or because she actually thought I might change my behavior?
“Like what!” I spewed.
“Oh, my God, Bridget, you really don’t know?” Michelle shouted with disbelief. How could any person be so unaware of what she’d said so many times?
“No,
I
really don’t know.
Are you seriously telling me that
you
feel fat?”
“Yes!” She burst out the answer, trying to hold in the truth.
“Oh,
puh-
leeze.
You’re deluded. You’re crazy! And I’m not going to listen to crazy talk.” I watched myself look Michelle up and down, my lip curled. “
I
didn’t say you’re fat, Michelle.
I
wouldn’t
say anything like that—”
There was a difference between
I didn’t say you were fat
and
I don’t think you’re fat—
it was clear now.
“—but if you
feel
fat, eat a salad or something, I don’t 1 4 8
P A I G E H A R B I S O N
know. It’s all in your head. Just don’t blame
your
insecurities on me!”
Tears started to well in Michelle’s eyes, but she blinked them away. Of all people to break down in front of, Bridget was certainly not one of them, Michelle thought. She thought about my words. What if it was all in her head? What if I really hadn’t said anything too bad, and it was just her imagination?
No,
she thought stubbornly,
it’s not all in my head.
“It’s
not
my
insecurities only, Bridget, you’re always making comments about what I should do to look prettier and telling me my clothes are all wrong, and I just can’t—”
“I’m your friend, Michelle, it’s called advice?” I paused at my realization. “Michelle, is this about the gym shorts? They’re from
freshman year.
And they just don’t fit you anymore!”
She had no response. Bridget just wasn’t going to understand. She was glad she hadn’t told me the whole truth.
I think I knew it now.
Time sped by like fast-forwarding through a movie. I could hardly see any of the scenes that passed me. When the reel slowed down enough for me to actually pay attention, I was still in Michelle’s head, staring at the ornate front door of my house and standing next to Jillian, who had just rung the doorbell.
I heard my distant voice call from upstairs for them to come in.
“Are you sure you feel up to this?” Jillian asked Michelle, who nodded, feeling friendly affection toward her one—real, she thought—best friend.
They came up the stairs and found me observing the clothes in my closet.
“Hey. Do you need help bringing in the rest of the beer?
Jillian, why don’t you help her?”
1 4 9
Michelle stopped dead. I felt the alarm she was feeling as she realized her mistake, and her worry as she imagined what I might say or do next, how I might explode at her.
“The
rest
of the beer?” she asked quietly, and watched as I turned to Jillian.
“Tell me there’s a ‘rest of the beer.’”
Michelle felt her fear turn into anger as she watched me use one of my favorite bitch techniques: the laugh, and the shake of the head.
“What the hell is
wrong
with you, Michelle? God, it’s like you’re stupid or something. One minute you’re telling me you’re all insecure about
everything
and the next minute you’re ruining my party. Great job. Seriously.”
As had always been her f law when it came to getting mad, Michelle felt the inescapable urge to cry. A memory resurfaced in her mind of the anger and embarrassment she’d felt after the prank I’d taken the rap for at Outdoor Ed.
“But Bridget, you just said to get some beer, you didn’t say—”
She started to explain that she didn’t know she was responsible for the whole party, and that her brother only bought what he
did
buy because he thought it was for just the three girls. It had been hard enough to convince him to do even that.
“I gave you Meredith’s credit card and told you to get beer for the party, how is it
not
obvious that you’re going to need more? If you really didn’t know, then why didn’t you just
call
me and ask how much?”
“I tried! You didn’t pick up!” It was true, Michelle thought, she had tried to call. She wasn’t calling to ask how much she needed, though, she was just calling to say that all she could get was just the two six-packs. She’d known it would go over badly.
1 5 0
P A I G E H A R B I S O N
“Bullshit.”
Michelle could tell this conversation would go nowhere, and that the easiest thing was to just apologize.
“I’m sorry, it was stupid—”
“You’re right, so why are you still here?”
Michelle’s heart jolted for a moment.
This is how it always
is with Bridget,
she thought. Since Michelle didn’t want to be on my bad side, she’d had to swallow all kinds of pride to stay friends—even if she hated it.
“What do you mean?” she asked, afraid of what Bridget—
I—might say.
“I
mean
why aren’t you driving back to get your brother to go buy more?”
Michelle took a second to breathe normally again, before she came upon the second hurdle.
“Um. Well, he’s not at home.”
“I’m
sorry,
what?
Your brother has been sitting in that stupid gaming chair since we were like, six. What do you mean he’s not home?” I felt Michelle’s pang of defensiveness for her brother.
“He went out with a friend.”
“
God,
Michelle. Now what the hell are we going to do?”
Time sped by again, and I found that Michelle was standing in my kitchen. She was eating the chips and salsa Liam had brought to the party, and something in her mind said that she was doing something wrong. I worried about what it might be, wondering if she was getting back at me in some way. She spotted the box of Oreos and took out four of the cookies, then put one back.
Three,
she thought to herself,
three is okay.
“Having your own private eating contest, Miche?” She 1 5 1
turned to see me stumbling past with a drink in one hand, and my arm around Matt Churchill.
She instantly felt embarrassed, and so did the current me.
I’d said it
only
because there was an impromptu hot dog-eating contest being held on the back deck. But as soon as I heard the words come out of my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. Michelle obviously didn’t know what I was referencing.
I watched myself go stumbling off, still laughing. Michelle was right, I said that kind of thing to her all the time. I said things that sounded okay in my head but that just weren’t.
The doorbell rang, and I heard myself shout “Pizza!” to the crowd. I ran by in my black bikini.
I could feel Michelle’s envy at my confidence, at my ability to wander around unselfconsciously in a tiny bathing suit like that one.
What she didn’t notice was how much bonier she was than me.
And she had no idea how all that self-assurance she noticed in me would go straight down the drain after I opened the door.
Michelle walked upstairs, hoping no one would see her go. As she entered my room, I could feel her guilt combining with embarrassment. I couldn’t figure out what her problem was. She was acting like she’d hidden a body in the backyard or something.
She opened the door to my bathroom and closed it behind her. She tried to lock the door for a few seconds before remembering that I had said it was broken.
She felt dread. She hoped no one would come in.
Michelle looked at her ref lection in the mirror, and her frame of mind grew worse still. She stared at her stomach, seeming to believe that the chips and salsa she’d eaten 1 5 2