Rose Gold winces, as if she’s been stabbed through the heart. “That’s not true.”
I shrug. “He doesn’t seem very bonded to you.” I let Adam wrap his fingers around mine.
Panic fills Rose Gold’s face. She scoops Adam out of his bassinet and holds him close, searching his face for clues. “He’s a good baby,” she says, more to herself than to me.
“He is,” I agree. “He doesn’t cry at all when you’re gone.”
She jerks her head up and stares at me. I smile warmly at her. She bites her lip—doubt piles on top of fear. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. She’s wondering if I’m telling the truth, if I’m right about Adam. Maybe this conversation will make her realize she needs to focus on taking care of her family instead of pushing us away. Maybe she’ll start worrying more about the future and less about the past.
We finish our dessert in silence. I offer Rose Gold another bite, but she shakes her head no. Her eyes are glued to Adam’s face as she rocks him.
As soon as my plate is empty, Rose Gold stands up and hands Adam to me. “You go relax in your chair,” she says, patting me on the back. “If you don’t mind keeping an eye on Adam while I clean?”
“Of course not,” I say, shuffling to my BarcaLounger with the baby in my arms.
This is more like it. I hate to make my daughter doubt her mothering capabilities, but I’m not going to be terrorized or condescended to in my own house. I’ll restore Rose Gold’s confidence as soon as she falls in line. I need to know for sure that she’s moved past this childish desire to get back at me.
An hour later, Rose Gold joins me, plopping down in the other chair. “All clean,” she announces. She turns to me. “This was the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a long time.”
“Me too.” I smile, remembering the last five Thanksgivings of freeze-dried turkey and watery mashed potatoes served on cafeteria trays with plastic utensils. Every time I think of the grocery store debacle, I’ll replay this compliment. I decide to forgive my daughter for her earlier mistreatment.
Rose Gold turns on the TV. I wait to make sure she isn’t watching the news, then doze off.
I wake up to Rose Gold patting my arm. “We’re going to bed,” she whispers. “Night, Mom.”
She carries Adam down the hall. “Are you ready for sleep?” she asks him. “Will you dream of puppies? Or maybe kitties?” She closes the door behind her and begins to sing to him.
I stretch, long and lazy, then pull myself out of the chair. Yawning, I amble through the kitchen on my way to bed. I open the fridge. A dozen plastic containers of food are stacked neatly. The countertops and kitchen table are spotless. Rose Gold’s done a thorough job of cleaning up my mess. Then I spot a forgotten Ziploc bag, filled with bacon grease, on top of the refrigerator. I pick it up and carry it out the side door, remembering how delicious the stuffing was.
The floodlights turn on. I step outside into the freezing night. I open the garbage can and toss the bag of grease into it. I’m about to replace the lid when I notice a bit of loose food underneath a black garbage bag. I make tsk-tsk noises with my mouth—if there’s a hole in the bag, Rose Gold should know better than to leave the garbage spilling out. Forget the plundering raccoons; the garbage men have strict rules. Everything has to be bagged.
I pull the bag of trash out of the can, expecting its contents to spill everywhere. Instead, the bag holds its shape. I lift it to eye level, examining for tears. There aren’t any. I peer into the can. Inside are turkey, mashed potatoes, candied yams, broccoli casserole, cranberry sauce, and butternut squash—about one plate’s worth. I think back to Rose Gold’s empty plate when I came back from the bathroom.
Well, what do you know? My daughter is hiding something from me. That something appears to be an eating disorder. I’ve turned a blind eye to it this long, but the facts are slapping me in the face. Her shrinking frame, granola bars for meals, hiding the food she’s throwing away: I can’t deny it anymore.
All these years, I’ve been telling people she was sick.
Look who was right after all.
12
Rose Gold
January 2015
I eyed the cartons of Chinese food. Alex and Whitney were already digging in, chopsticks between their fingers. I had never tried using chopsticks. My first attempt would not be in front of them.
“Can I have a fork?” I said to the space between them.
Alex didn’t stop eating. Whitney mumbled, “Drawer to the right of the fridge,” while continuing to scroll through her phone.
When I came back, they’d started discussing plans for the night, calling out options that materialized from their screens.
“Jenna wants to go to the Hangge Uppe,” Alex said.
“Dollar bottles at Kelsey’s,” Whitney volunteered. “Some of the basketball team is going.”
“Tyler and the guys are going to Kirkwood.” Alex took a sip of pink wine from her stemless glass. I examined the bottle label—Sutter Home White Zinfandel—and made a mental note to buy that wine on my twenty-first birthday. Less than a month now.
My pocket vibrated. I pulled out my phone and took a bite of Mongolian beef. The meat was lukewarm, but still tasty—both savory and sweet, which I’d come to realize was my favorite flavor combination.
Dad: Anna can’t stop talking about her ear piercings. She said all the girls at school love her earrings
Two months had passed since I’d stayed the night at Dad’s house in Indiana. I’d seen the Gillespies a handful of times since then. On my last trip, I’d convinced Dad and Kim to let Anna get her ears pierced, thinking cute earrings might help with her self-consciousness. After some hemming and hawing on Dad’s part, he’d finally agreed. Kim, Anna, and I had piled into their car and driven to the mall, where we’d found the Claire’s boutique and requested one set of pierced ears, please. Anna and I had painstakingly weighed the pros and cons of pink versus purple studs. In the end, she chose pink. When the technician brought out the gun, Anna squeezed Kim’s hand with her left and mine with her right. But she didn’t cry, barely even flinched. Afterward, she was ecstatic.
Dad: She let Kim put her hair in a ponytail for the first time in a year
Dad: Thank you so much, Rose
I smiled, proud to have had the answer for once, to finally belong somewhere. I had never fit in at school, but because of me, Anna would.
Me: I’m just glad I could help
Me: Also, I made it to Alex’s okay. She says hi