“See you later, fat girl. I’ll be waiting . . .”
Kennedy shuddered, and slowly reached up to touch her face, reminding herself she was grown up. He had tortured her all year, until every morning she’d vomit, imagining what he’d try to do to her. The pushing and bullying and insults were nothing compared to the deathly stillness of the stairwell, either after school, or in between periods, or lunch. Then he began waiting for her after school, and nowhere was safe. No one ever helped her.
He’d forced her, over and over again, to humiliate herself in front of him under threats that it could get much worse if she didn’t do exactly what he wanted. So she did. But it didn’t matter.
Things got worse anyway.
How long did it take her to realize she began losing weight because she stopped eating? Food had always been a comfort, but now it was the enemy—the weapon used against her. She never voluntarily tried to lose the weight. Food slowly became something that would lead to more abuse and torture, so it was easy just to stop.
She embraced the empty ache in her body until it was the only feeling she was comfortable with. Maybe she’d become invisible, drifting away to a shimmer of her former self, finally safe from the boy and his crew.
Her mother celebrated Kennedy’s loss of forty pounds, which hurt Kennedy the most—the knowledge her own mother would now parade her around to charity events and society friends, where before she pretended she didn’t have a daughter. Every time Dad tried to get her to eat, her mother clucked her tongue and waved him away in dismissal. She even encouraged the starvation diet, insisting all women did it because the female body was their most powerful weapon. Not brains.
Her hand dropped from her face. Kennedy turned from her reflection and beat back the remnants of the past. She hated thinking about it, though her therapist always reminded her that scars were the sign of battles fought and won. Even wounds that couldn’t be seen on the skin. Suddenly, the silence seemed deafening and full of low whispers. She grabbed the remote, and turned on the television, pumping up the volume. No more. She had worked hard to find a healthy balance and enjoy the body she now proudly owned. It had taken years to fight the demons and be able to see her actual reflection in the mirror, and not the distorted image of an overweight young girl. But the mirrors still mocked, taunted, screamed. She never knew when the woman in the mirror would appear disfigured. Fat. Alone.
The droning noise of a talk show soothed her ears. Kennedy finished her water and changed into her favorite hot pink pj set in comfy cotton. She laid her head on one of the plump pillows, closed her eyes, and slept with the lights on and television blaring.
Her last image was of Nate’s face as he bent down to kiss her.
five
NATE WALKED INTO the living room and took in the scene before him. Beer bottles littered the tables. Some porno flick on the TV screen. An open bag of chips and Funyuns lay half-open on the couch among a bunch of crumbs. And his brother splayed out on the couch, feet propped up, one hand securely tucked into his underwear and cupping the family jewels.
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
Nate nodded at Connor and automatically began cleaning up. Rolled up the open bags and securely closed them with a clip. Scooped up the empty bottles and tossed them in the recycling bin. “Nothing. Did you put out the garbage for tomorrow morning?”
“Nah, I forgot. How come you’re so late? You score?” His brow wagged up and down like Groucho Marx. Usually, Nate would laugh. Tonight, annoyance flickered.
“Met with my matchmaker. I signed up at Kinnections, remember?”
“She hot?”
Yes. Nate shrugged. “Not really. Listen, I’ll be late all week. Can you handle the garbage in the morning and get some groceries? We’re running low.”
“Sure, man, sure.” A big-breasted blonde moaned and wiggled her hips on the screen. Distaste skimmed over Nate. Why did his brother’s actions seem to get worse the older he got? It had been cool in high school. Acceptable in college. But now at thirty-six, it seemed . . . sad. “Wanna watch the movie with me?”
“No, thanks. I’m tired.”
His brother pulled his hand from his boxers and climbed off the couch. They always joked that Connor got the physical genes in the family, and Nate had scored in the brains department. Nate topped six feet, but his brother towered over him and boasted a ton of muscle. He wore his blondish hair long and had encouraged Nate to go that route since he claimed women found it sexy. His eyesight was twenty-twenty and he’d been blessed with his mother’s big hazel eyes and thick long lashes. Bastard. He’d dropped out of college to work construction, and made a decent living except in the winter months, when things got lean and mean. “You look different. Oh, you’re not orange.”
“Yeah, got some body scrub thing to remove it.”
“Lame, bro. Don’t lose the man gene.”
“It was a very manly spa.” He focused on setting the coffeepot to go off at exactly 5:45 a.m. and ignored his brother’s look. Connor always knew when he lied.
“Hey, Ned, you got some extra money you can lend me for the week? The guys want to go out for a beer tomorrow night and I’m light.”
He frowned. “I just lent you money last week.”
Connor waved his other hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll catch up soon. I caught another construction job, so I’ll be working extra. Also decided to go for the supervisor position. Been there the longest. What do you think?”
He glanced up from measuring perfect portions of coffee grounds. “Definitely go for it. You’d do well in management.”
His brother lit up and again Nate acknowledged the guilt that flared up whenever he thought of the sacrifices Connor had made for him. College was expensive, even with scholarships, and after his parents pretty much orphaned them, Con worked three jobs to help Nate get to school and stay there.
“Yeah, I agree. Interviews start next week. But I got caught light after Stan’s bachelor party. Too bad you couldn’t go. The strippers were hot.”
“Sorry I missed it.”
“Guess getting people to Mars is more important, right?” He grinned, tipped back his beer, and finished it in one long swallow. “You got me, right?”
“Sure.” He reached into his wallet, peeled off a few bills, and threw them on the table. “Listen, I changed my name back to Nate. No more Ned.”