and follow Sam to his car.
“Did you get the answers you needed?” he says when we are on the road.
I look at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
He tucks in one side of his mouth and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “She’s my cousin, and she’s a blabber mouth. She told me about that chick.”
I stare at him, openmouthed. “You knew she was friends with Olivia, and you didn’t tell me?”
“That’s what you were hoping for, weren’t you? You wanted to know if she knew her?”
He’s right, but I’m still angry.
“I’m your boss,” I say. “You should have told me. And, what kind of gay man are you , anyway? You’re supposed to love gossip and drama.”
He throws back his head and laughs. Despite the world of bad news swirling around my head, I smile. Maybe he’s not so bad. I decide to stop trying to get Caleb to fire him.
When I get home, Caleb is already in bed — not ours, but the twin bed in the baby’s room. I check the milk supply in the fridge, luckily there is enough frozen for a day or two — enough time for the dirty martinis to work their way out of my system. I roll my eyes. Caleb will probably check my blood/alcohol level before he lets me pump again.
I go to bed, still wearing my clothes, sadder than I’ve ever felt.
Chapter Twelve
Past
My sister was so beautiful it almost hurt your eyes to look at her — and God, that’s all I did in those early years. She was younger than me. Only by a year, but still. It was kind of awkward to idolize your baby sister. It was hard not to, since the minute she walked into a room, every eye was stuck to her like she had some sort of ethereal fairy magic flowing from her pores. For a long time, I believed that once I hit a certain age, I would get some of that fairy juice — no such luck. I looked like a malnourished, crack ho with braces and twelve hundred dollar sneakers. Courtney made me want to die — especially when she dated and then disposed of all the boys I liked. I could never be mad at her for it. We were a team — Court and Jo — until Jo decided she wanted to be Leah, and then it was Court and Lee. Despite our closeness, as we got older there was no denying the chasm our differences caused. Our friendship wavered for a year in middle school. She left me for the cheerleaders. I watched her make new friends from my seat in the social bleachers, picking bread from my braces and trying to figure out why my boobs hadn’t come in yet.
I am nothing like the rest of my family. Each o ne of them, with the exception of my mother, had raven black hair. Pair that with the Smith signature olive skin and green eyes, and they look like an army of beautiful Greeks. I was born red: my skin, my hair and my hot, fussy attitude. My mother used to tell me that I cried for a week after they brought me home. She said I lost my voice, and all you could hear was air coming out of me as I made screaming faces.
Our mother encouraged Courtney to do all of the typical, perfect girl things — cheerleading, modeling, and stealing other girls' boyfriends. I, on the other hand, was encouraged to diet, especially during my last year of middle school. I was a little chubby. I started eating my feelings when I discovered boys, rejection and Little Debbie snack cakes. I went from malnourished to fleshy all in a matter of months.
“You’re going to seriously regret this,” my mother said, upon discovering my stash. I’d hidden a dozen assorted boxes in an old Christmas popcorn tin in the pantry. “You already have red hair, now you want to add pounds of extra flesh?” To emphasize her point, she’d grabbed a handful of fat at my waist and pinched it until I’d cried out. She shook her head. “Hopeless, Johanna.” And then she’d tossed all of my snack cakes in the trash.
I bit my lip to keep from crying. Wh en she saw me struggling with tears, she’d softened a little. Maybe she was chubby once , I thought
“Did you get the answers you needed?” he says when we are on the road.
I look at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
He tucks in one side of his mouth and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “She’s my cousin, and she’s a blabber mouth. She told me about that chick.”
I stare at him, openmouthed. “You knew she was friends with Olivia, and you didn’t tell me?”
“That’s what you were hoping for, weren’t you? You wanted to know if she knew her?”
He’s right, but I’m still angry.
“I’m your boss,” I say. “You should have told me. And, what kind of gay man are you , anyway? You’re supposed to love gossip and drama.”
He throws back his head and laughs. Despite the world of bad news swirling around my head, I smile. Maybe he’s not so bad. I decide to stop trying to get Caleb to fire him.
When I get home, Caleb is already in bed — not ours, but the twin bed in the baby’s room. I check the milk supply in the fridge, luckily there is enough frozen for a day or two — enough time for the dirty martinis to work their way out of my system. I roll my eyes. Caleb will probably check my blood/alcohol level before he lets me pump again.
I go to bed, still wearing my clothes, sadder than I’ve ever felt.
Chapter Twelve
Past
My sister was so beautiful it almost hurt your eyes to look at her — and God, that’s all I did in those early years. She was younger than me. Only by a year, but still. It was kind of awkward to idolize your baby sister. It was hard not to, since the minute she walked into a room, every eye was stuck to her like she had some sort of ethereal fairy magic flowing from her pores. For a long time, I believed that once I hit a certain age, I would get some of that fairy juice — no such luck. I looked like a malnourished, crack ho with braces and twelve hundred dollar sneakers. Courtney made me want to die — especially when she dated and then disposed of all the boys I liked. I could never be mad at her for it. We were a team — Court and Jo — until Jo decided she wanted to be Leah, and then it was Court and Lee. Despite our closeness, as we got older there was no denying the chasm our differences caused. Our friendship wavered for a year in middle school. She left me for the cheerleaders. I watched her make new friends from my seat in the social bleachers, picking bread from my braces and trying to figure out why my boobs hadn’t come in yet.
I am nothing like the rest of my family. Each o ne of them, with the exception of my mother, had raven black hair. Pair that with the Smith signature olive skin and green eyes, and they look like an army of beautiful Greeks. I was born red: my skin, my hair and my hot, fussy attitude. My mother used to tell me that I cried for a week after they brought me home. She said I lost my voice, and all you could hear was air coming out of me as I made screaming faces.
Our mother encouraged Courtney to do all of the typical, perfect girl things — cheerleading, modeling, and stealing other girls' boyfriends. I, on the other hand, was encouraged to diet, especially during my last year of middle school. I was a little chubby. I started eating my feelings when I discovered boys, rejection and Little Debbie snack cakes. I went from malnourished to fleshy all in a matter of months.
“You’re going to seriously regret this,” my mother said, upon discovering my stash. I’d hidden a dozen assorted boxes in an old Christmas popcorn tin in the pantry. “You already have red hair, now you want to add pounds of extra flesh?” To emphasize her point, she’d grabbed a handful of fat at my waist and pinched it until I’d cried out. She shook her head. “Hopeless, Johanna.” And then she’d tossed all of my snack cakes in the trash.
I bit my lip to keep from crying. Wh en she saw me struggling with tears, she’d softened a little. Maybe she was chubby once , I thought
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