My shoulders sagged.
I didn’t want to feel the way I did. But I didn’t know how to mute the voice in my head that told me every day, for years, how disgusting I was, sucking away the dregs of self-confidence I had. I was trapped, unable to escape from myself. It was all I wanted to do, to run away from this body but unfortunately, it wouldn’t let me go.
Before Robert, things were tough but at least I was eating healthy, exercising and following my therapist’s instructions. After Robert, I derailed.
Taking a step forward, I climbed on the scale. The reading displayed 128.25 pounds. I’d lost ten pounds and I planned on losing more.
The house phone rang in the kitchen startling me. I pulled on a robe to cover myself and ran out to answer it.
“Ezra said he’ll be at the bookshop,” Melissa said as soon as I took the call.
“Landlines are pretty cool,” I joked. “I don’t think I’ve ever used one before.”
“Just be there on time.”
I rolled my eyes, mumbling, “I’ll be there.”
“We can have lunch at Mollie’s afterward. Erica will be there too.”
“Sure.”
“Great. I’ll see you later.”
Strolling through the rows of the bookstore, I lost myself searching for new thrillers to read. I picked a few promising ones to add to my immense collection of unread novels, and then walked to the cash register. There were three people in front of me. I tapped on the shoulder of the girl ahead and asked for the time.
I thanked her and fixed my gaze at the entrance. Ezra was expected to stroll in any minute now. It didn’t take a lot of waiting, about two minutes later, he walked in with his dark hair up in a messy bun. Dark slacks and a blue dress shirt. His strides were of ease and confidence. Shoulders back. Chin high. Eyes locked with mine.
As I watched him move my breath hitched but also my jaw twitched with the annoyance growing inside of me. I hated how aware I was of him.
“Hi,” he said, smiling. Perhaps smile wasn’t the right word for what he was doing. There was a faint curve to his lips, but there was no crease below the eyes and no movement of the cheeks.
“Hi,” I said back with an equal amount of indifference.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m doing well. Thanks for taking me to Mel’s place.”
My black purse dangled from his hand. I could also tell that he was debating whether to say something more. I tensed, not knowing what to expect.
“You shouldn’t have put yourself in a situation where I had to. It could have been someone else and God knows what might have happened.”
After the words left his mouth, I straightened my spine bringing confidence, I didn’t have, to my expression. “Nothing happened. I’m safe, aren’t I?”
“But something could’ve easily happened. You were pretty wasted.”
Hearing him speak in such a condescending tone aggravated my irritation. I didn’t need a lecture. “You know what? If your advice was any good, Dr. Phil, it would be sold and not handed out for free. I don’t need you to tell me how to handle my life. I already thanked you, what more do you want? A fucking gold star?”
He knit his brows, narrowing his eyes. “What the ...?”
I was out of line and I knew it but I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. When I was uncomfortable or called out on my bullshit, I got defensive and to overcompensate for the defensiveness, I went offensive. “I drank, so what? It’s not the end of the fucking world. Nothing shifted out of orbit. You should try it sometime. Might help loosen the stick you have jammed up your ass.”
In the seconds that followed, my words echoed remorsefully in my head. I spotted hurt flashing through his eyes. He took a step back, and his lips formed a thin, hard line.
“I was trying to be nice.” He raised both hands in a form of defense and then he dropped them, shaking his head. “You’re crazy.”
I was not crazy. I hated that word.
“You’re a fucking jerk.” I wanted to shut up. I really did. I just couldn’t. “And an uptight asshole.”
“And you’re a hysterical bitch.”
I blinked surprised by his retort and the anger in his voice. He dropped my purse on top of a pile of books next to him. “You’re welcome,” he said and stomped out of the store.
In the awkward silence that lingered, everyone glared at me. I looked around utterly embarrassed. I knew what they were thinking, the expression on their faces was evidence enough. I picked up my purse, slung it over my shoulder and gazed straight ahead.
“Hey, are you going to pay for those?” The lady behind the counter said, grabbing my attention. I peered at her, too ashamed to establish eye contact, and placed the books on the counter. “That was quite the scene,” she said, prying.
“Mind your own fucking business,” I snapped cutting her off, and she simply pouted.
My hands quivered at my sides and I shifted on my feet, anxious to get out of there. I hadn’t eaten anything since the pizza incident and after what happened, all I could think about was binging on a giant, fatty cheeseburger and that thought made me even angrier.
The cashier lazily scanned the first book, and then the next. When she clasped the third, I spun on my heels in frustration, heading for the exit.
“Hey,” she screamed at me. “Aren’t you going you pay for these?”
Ignoring her, I kept moving.
There were plenty of restaurants on Fifth Avenue and well into the lunch hour on a Monday, all I could smell was food, a variety of delicious scents that made my stomach rumble.
As I walked, the corner of my eye caught the sign of the bakery about four shops down the road and right in front of me, was Mollie’s. The restaurant’s door was open, ready for the swarm of famished diners to walk in; where I was supposed to go and wait for the girls to have a nice, healthy salad.
I inhaled and moaned. I was giddy from the interaction with Ezra and the only thing that could calm me was food. Lots of it. My mind told me to go to Mollie’s but my feet wandered to the left—to the bakery.
I stopped short of the entrance and pressed my hands flat on the windowpane, ogling the treats. Blinking, I tried to convince myself not to go in. But the pastries were screaming out my name. There was that internal battle again. Good against evil. Walk away or walk inside. Sweet relief versus salad with a side of angst.
Evil won.
The door chimed as I stepped into the bakery, the aroma of sugar blended with the scent of fresh fruit and chocolate nearly brought me to my knees. The old lady behind the counter lifted her face and grinned—almost angelically—at the sound of the bell.
“Hello, dear, can I help you?” She slid her glasses back on her nose.
“Um, I ...” I wanted to say no. That I’d made a mistake. That this was the wrong shop but instead I said, “Yes.” I sauntered closer to the display case. “I’ll have one of those to go.” I pointed to a cupcake. “Actually two.”
“Chocolate Mocha, an excellent choice,” she sang, sliding the display case open and reached inside. “One of my favorites. You will love the mocha buttercream.” Carefully, she packed the two cupcakes inside a pink box. “Will that be all?”