The Axeman's Jazz by Julie Smith Page B

Vic.” His audience laughed politely, knowing he referred to a local cartoon character who was a food giant.
    “Can you imagine what our refrigerator looked like when I was growing up? You couldn’t even conceive of the size of pots my mother made red beans in. And she never cooked one pot, it was always two.
    “It was like growing up in the desert and never seeing a tree. You think the whole world’s made of sand and scorpions. I don’t think I ever saw a thin person until I was in first grade. Then the kids started to call me names. You know what? I didn’t even mind because I had a great self-image. I thought fat was how you were supposed to be. I didn’t feel ugly at all because everybody at home always told me I was handsome.
    “My father died a few years ago, and that was sad, but I did fine for myself. I married a gorgeous, lovely woman and had two beautiful children. I never paid any attention at all to what those doctors said. Sure people died early in our family, that was just our genes. But two months ago my brother died. My brother did fine too. You know what? He also had a lovely wife and two beautiful children. You know what else? He was two years younger than I am. So I’m trying to get a new self-image. I’m trying to imagine what I’d look like thin. I’ve lost ten pounds, I’m working on it. I know I’m not supposed to work so hard, that my higher power will take care of it, but I’m new to this program, and I don’t really know my higher power yet, and I’ve never surrendered a day in my life. It’s a real hard thing, but I’m just glad to be here. I know there’s a thin guy in there somewhere and I really want him to get to know his kids, and be able to see them go off to college and get married.” His voice broke. Blinking back tears, he said, “That’s all. Thank you.”
    Once again, people responded only by raising their hands. To Skip’s horror, Leslie recognized Skip’s mother.
    “I’m Elizabeth and I’m a compulsive overeater.”
    “Hi, Elizabeth.”
    “I’m wearing black,” she said, “even though it’s the middle of the summer. If I weren’t wearing black, I’d be wearing vertical stripes.
    “Right now I’m only about five pounds overweight. Usually I’m ten. Lately, I’ve been trying really hard to accept myself as a person who weighs ten pounds over her ideal weight, but I’m afraid if I did that, I’d gain another ten pounds.
    “I recently figured out what I’ve been eating about all these years and that makes me feel empty, like I need to fill up. I know I eat because I’m nervous. Deep down I’m afraid people won’t like me; they won’t accept me. I haven’t got the right dress, I didn’t use the right fork, I don’t belong to the right clubs. I’m different. I feel really different from everybody else. I feel like somebody’s going to find out about me—that I’m really from Mars and I’m just faking it. Actually, I’m from Monroe. In this town that might as well be Mars.”
    Skip noticed a hard set to her mother’s mouth. She had worked hard, Elizabeth had, at becoming a fixture in New Orleans society, had devoted her life to it (had nearly ruined Skip’s life trying to make her into a social asset). Being from Monroe was a bigger hardship for her than it would have been for the average citizen. Ordinarily, Skip’s lip would have curled with distaste—she hadn’t a moment’s time for her mother’s social-climbing—but larger, more disturbing emotions roiled within her.
    A piece of her felt for Elizabeth, saw her in a new light. Her voice was different from her social voice or her mother voice. Could it be that this was what she really sounded like, stripped down to plain Elizabeth Langdon, no roles? Skip honestly didn’t think she’d have recognized this voice over the phone. It sounded sincere, not a word she associated with her mother.
    Elizabeth used everything and everyone to get what she wanted, yet covered her