with a whoosh as she took in her best friend’s frail frame
and dark circles under her eyes. Hugging her tightly, she said,
“You look wonderful, honey.” She stepped back and rubbed her hands
together, the unsettling feel of Megan’s fine back bones lingered
on their surface.
Megan smiled, “Thanks, Hol.” She glanced down
at her outfit which hung loosely around her body and felt a wave of
shame. She remembered how she used to torture herself, wishing that
someday she would be thin enough to look beautiful in any clothes
she put on, like the young models in fashion magazines, tall and
lanky with smoky eyes and tiny little waists. Now, though, she
didn’t find the look so appealing, and she would have gladly
welcomed back the extra ten pounds she used to wear around her
middle.
Olivia bounced on her toes as she took the
package from her mother and placed it on the table in the foyer.
“Holly?” Motioning with her hands for Holly to hurry up, she put
forth her saddest look, pleading her case.
Holly looked from Olivia to Megan, “Oh, Livi,
that’s a decision of your mom’s. I’m not sure I want to be in the
middle of that battle.”
“Whatever!” Olivia stormed out of the
room.
Megan and Holly shared a laugh as they
followed Olivia. Candles illuminated the rich textures and warm
dark hues of the cozy living room. The stone fireplace threw just
enough heat to take the chill out of the evening—and an occasional
spark. Holly poured herself a glass of wine. “Meg, would you like a
glass?”
Megan took the glass slowly and sipped the
White Zinfandel, reveling in the sweet floral taste as it wound its
way down her throat. She closed her eyes, and tried to memorize the
feel of the soft liquid, the swell of the cool glass in her
hand.
“So, Holly, what’s new in the life of the
world’s best editor?” she asked, lifting her glass to her lips
again.
Just as Holly started to answer, the doorbell
chimed through the hall. Olivia rushed toward it. “I’ve got it!”
she hollered.
Holly turned to Megan and spoke quietly,
“What’s up with her, Meg?”
“Oh, she hates that she isn’t included in our
little ritual.”
“Well,” Holly said as she placed her hand on
Megan’s shoulder, and took it back quickly as the feel of her bones
made her too sad to let it remain, “maybe it is time. I mean, she’s
fourteen, that’s old enough to join us.”
“I know, Holly. It’s just that…well…”
Threatened by a veil of tears, she closed her eyes tightly and
walked away.
She hesitated by the French doors and looked
out at the dune grass in the distance. “I need one more time. For
me, you know? I know that sounds selfish, but I do. I need it.”
Megan placed her hand flat against the cool glass. As she committed
the feeling to memory, she realized there were many little details
of life that she wanted to hold on to; the smell of the fireplace
after the fire had died down; and the sound of Olivia in the
bathroom after her shower, humming and dancing around as Megan knew
that she did; the angelic look of Olivia’s face when she was fast
asleep, and the smell of her breath in the morning; the soothing
sound of the dishwasher at night, and the wintry gust of the winds
across the beach; the sound of that crazy cardinal running beak
first into her window. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized
that the bird had not appeared that morning.
“I just always thought,” Megan said as she
turned to face Holly, “that I would have more time, that she would
grow up doing the ritual with us, with me. Now I just feel…rushed,
like I have to make a choice, like it’s either my time or
hers.”
Olivia popped back into the living room, “One
of your men has arrived, Madam,” she smirked, smiling at her
mother.
“Livi, come here,” Megan said, motioning to
Olivia with open arms.
Sighing, Olivia fell into the familiar safety
of her mother’s thin arms, taking in the smell of her body lotion,
lavender and
and dark circles under her eyes. Hugging her tightly, she said,
“You look wonderful, honey.” She stepped back and rubbed her hands
together, the unsettling feel of Megan’s fine back bones lingered
on their surface.
Megan smiled, “Thanks, Hol.” She glanced down
at her outfit which hung loosely around her body and felt a wave of
shame. She remembered how she used to torture herself, wishing that
someday she would be thin enough to look beautiful in any clothes
she put on, like the young models in fashion magazines, tall and
lanky with smoky eyes and tiny little waists. Now, though, she
didn’t find the look so appealing, and she would have gladly
welcomed back the extra ten pounds she used to wear around her
middle.
Olivia bounced on her toes as she took the
package from her mother and placed it on the table in the foyer.
“Holly?” Motioning with her hands for Holly to hurry up, she put
forth her saddest look, pleading her case.
Holly looked from Olivia to Megan, “Oh, Livi,
that’s a decision of your mom’s. I’m not sure I want to be in the
middle of that battle.”
“Whatever!” Olivia stormed out of the
room.
Megan and Holly shared a laugh as they
followed Olivia. Candles illuminated the rich textures and warm
dark hues of the cozy living room. The stone fireplace threw just
enough heat to take the chill out of the evening—and an occasional
spark. Holly poured herself a glass of wine. “Meg, would you like a
glass?”
Megan took the glass slowly and sipped the
White Zinfandel, reveling in the sweet floral taste as it wound its
way down her throat. She closed her eyes, and tried to memorize the
feel of the soft liquid, the swell of the cool glass in her
hand.
“So, Holly, what’s new in the life of the
world’s best editor?” she asked, lifting her glass to her lips
again.
Just as Holly started to answer, the doorbell
chimed through the hall. Olivia rushed toward it. “I’ve got it!”
she hollered.
Holly turned to Megan and spoke quietly,
“What’s up with her, Meg?”
“Oh, she hates that she isn’t included in our
little ritual.”
“Well,” Holly said as she placed her hand on
Megan’s shoulder, and took it back quickly as the feel of her bones
made her too sad to let it remain, “maybe it is time. I mean, she’s
fourteen, that’s old enough to join us.”
“I know, Holly. It’s just that…well…”
Threatened by a veil of tears, she closed her eyes tightly and
walked away.
She hesitated by the French doors and looked
out at the dune grass in the distance. “I need one more time. For
me, you know? I know that sounds selfish, but I do. I need it.”
Megan placed her hand flat against the cool glass. As she committed
the feeling to memory, she realized there were many little details
of life that she wanted to hold on to; the smell of the fireplace
after the fire had died down; and the sound of Olivia in the
bathroom after her shower, humming and dancing around as Megan knew
that she did; the angelic look of Olivia’s face when she was fast
asleep, and the smell of her breath in the morning; the soothing
sound of the dishwasher at night, and the wintry gust of the winds
across the beach; the sound of that crazy cardinal running beak
first into her window. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized
that the bird had not appeared that morning.
“I just always thought,” Megan said as she
turned to face Holly, “that I would have more time, that she would
grow up doing the ritual with us, with me. Now I just feel…rushed,
like I have to make a choice, like it’s either my time or
hers.”
Olivia popped back into the living room, “One
of your men has arrived, Madam,” she smirked, smiling at her
mother.
“Livi, come here,” Megan said, motioning to
Olivia with open arms.
Sighing, Olivia fell into the familiar safety
of her mother’s thin arms, taking in the smell of her body lotion,
lavender and
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