The Fat Girl by Marilyn Sachs Page B

go for months. Ask Jeff. He knows and he told me to wait until after Christmas. I think you’ll be happier without me but we can still do things together. I love you, Mom, but it’s better this way.
    Your loving daughter,
    Wanda
    “I didn’t know if you were leaving too,” said my mother almost gaily. “That’s why I decided to wait for dinner.”
    “Come on, Mom,” I said. “You know I’d never go to live with Dad.”
    “No,” she said, “I don’t know. I didn’t know Wanda wanted to go either. I guess you knew, but I didn’t.”
    It was horrible the way she kept smiling. “Look, Mom,” I said, “she told me before Christmas and I told her to wait. I thought maybe she’d get over it. Maybe she’d just forget it. She didn’t say anything during the holidays. I was hoping it would blow over.”
    “Maybe,” said my mother pleasantly, “if you had told me, I might have been able to handle it.”
    “I tried to warn you, Mom. I kept telling you not to fight with her, not to pick on her.”
    “I never picked on her,” said my mother mildly.
    “No . . . no . . . Mom, I didn’t mean that.”
    “I tried to correct her for her own good. She has to learn how to take care of herself.”
    “Of course she does, Mom, and maybe she’ll change her mind. You know Wanda. She’s always changing her mind.”
    “No,” said my mother. “She won’t change her mind.” She shrugged her shoulders and stood up. “I’ll make dinner now, Jeff. What would you like?”
    “I don’t care, Mom. Anything you want to make is fine with me.”
    “I was going to make tamale pie tonight because Wanda likes it so much, but maybe I’ll make something else. What would you like, Jeff?”
    “Anything, Mom. I don’t care.”
    “Well, how about some broiled lamb chops? I know you like lamb chops and I have some in the freezer.”
    “That sounds great, Mom. Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”
    “No, Jeff, don’t bother. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do. Just go about your business, and I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
    It was unreal. The two of us kept laughing and chattering while we ate. We didn’t leave any quiet, empty spots, and we didn’t mention Wanda at all. I told her about Ellen and Lady Bountiful.
    “So you’ve become a fashion designer, Jeff,” laughed my mother.
    “But I only have one customer,” I said, grinning.
    “So when do I meet her?”
    “Anytime you like, Mom. How about this weekend?”
    “Fine, Jeff. Anytime you say.”
    “But you’ll have to make something low in calories. She’s on a diet, and she’s lost nearly fifteen pounds. She has about seventy more to go.”
    “She must be quite a handful,” giggled my mother, and I burst out laughing. We couldn’t stop ourselves after that and kept laughing and laughing hysterically until the phone rang. My mother stopped laughing then.
    “I’ll answer it, Mom.”
    “No, Jeff, I can answer it.”
    My mother arranged her face in a smile, even before she heard who it was. “Why . . . Wanda . . . how is everything working out? . . . That’s good . . . That’s good . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . I do understand . . . Yes, I do . . . That’s all right . . . Yes, of course . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . Whatever you say, Wanda . . . No, I’m fine . . . If that’s what you want . . . Yes . . . Saturday is fine . . . Yes, I’ll be home . . . Thank you for calling . . . Here he is.”
    My mother handed me the phone and left the room. Wanda said, “Jeff?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is she still in the room?”
    “No.”
    Wanda let out a deep breath. “Whew, I’m glad that’s over! But it wasn’t so bad, was it?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “I mean, Mom. She’s really taking it great. I thought she’d carry on.”
    “Listen, Wanda,” I said, “she’s just putting on a big act. It’s killing her.”
    “No, it isn’t,” said Wanda. “I know her as well as you do. She’s probably glad I’ve gone. I told