Such a Pretty Face by Annabelle Costa

Chapter 16

When I get my weekly phone call from my mother, my heart sinks. I wonder if there’s any chance at all that Camille didn’t tell her about Brody.

“Who is this boy you’re seeing?” my mother asks before she even says hello. So much for hoping Camille didn’t rat me out.

“I met him in my night class,” I say. “He’s really nice.”

“Uh-huh.” Mom sounds skeptical. “Camille says she knew him in high school, and he wasn’t a nice boy.”

I’m still not sure whether or not to believe that. Brody seems nothing like the guy Camille was describing the other night. Maybe she’s mixing him up with somebody else. “People change.”

“I’m just worried, Emily.” Her voice takes on a patronizing tone. “You’ve never been in a relationship with a man before. That makes you a target for somebody to take advantage of you.”

“He’s not taking advantage of me,” I insist. “He…”

I want to tell her about Brody’s disability, but part of me feels like she’ll just use it as another reason I shouldn’t go out with him. Or worse, she’ll assume he’s going out with me because he can’t get anyone else. Well, I don’t know if that’s worse. But it’s just as bad.

“He’s a good guy,” I say. “I promise.”

My mother lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to doubt you, but it all just seems very suspicious. You just met this boy, and you don’t know much about him. Why does he want to go out with you?”

I flinch. She would never ask that question of Camille. “Because he likes me.”

“But you have to ask yourself why?”

I don’t even know what to say. I’m speechless. Does my own mother feel that I’m so undesirable that any man who agrees to go out with me must be preying on me?

“I’m sorry,” she adds. “It’s just that Camille said he’s very… attractive.”

She’s not making it better. And it also gives me an uneasy feeling that Camille thinks Brody is hot.

“Did he ask you for money?” she asks. “Does he want you to get drugs for him?”

“This is a really insulting conversation,” I say. “He likes me because… He just does. And I like him. A lot.” I squeeze the phone in my hand, thinking about how very much I like Brody Nolan. There’s nothing my mother could say to change that fact. “And I’m going to keep seeing him.”

She’s silent for a moment on the other line. “Fine. I just think you should be careful.”

“I’m careful!”

Of course, she doesn’t believe it. She and Camille both think that Brody is playing me. There’s nothing I can do to change her mind.

_____

I assume that at some point, Brody will expect to see me naked.

I don’t look good naked. When I get undressed at night, I avoid looking in my full-length mirror, because even a glimpse makes me feel horrible about myself. The only positives I could list would be that my breasts are big—they pretty much have to be. But they’re overshadowed by rolls of fat and cellulite. My stomach sticks out almost as much as my boobs do, and now it’s started sagging down over my thighs. My butt is the biggest of all—easily large enough to take up two normal size chairs.

I’m not sure how long I can avoid taking my clothes off in front of him. Honestly, I could probably get away with it for a while. He’s not going to be ripping them off, to say the least. And he can’t undress himself either, so I’m thinking we’re going to stay in our clothes for quite a while.

But it’s going to happen. Eventually.

I need to step up my diet a notch. Granted, I’m always on a diet. But I would love to drop at least fifty pounds before he sees me naked. And I haven’t lost any weight this year. I just keep gaining, despite all my efforts.

A couple of days after my date with Brody, I come home to find Abby cooking in the kitchen. I watch Abby’s lithe body dancing around the stove and feel a flash of envy. My life would be so much easier if I looked like her. I wouldn’t have to worry about people shouting mean things at me when I walk down the street. I wouldn’t have to endure stupid comments from family and friends every time they see me eat so much as a french fry. Nobody would think I’m being targeted just because a man shows interest in me.

I wonder what she’s cooking. It smells horrible, but I’m sure it’s healthy. It will probably help me lose weight, if only because it will make me vomit up everything I’ve eaten today.

“Abby?” I say, before I can change my mind.

Abby looks up at me and smiles. “Hi, Emily! What’s up?”

I sniff the air. “What are you making? It smells… good.”

Abby’s eyes light up. “Does it? It’s bean curd with brussel sprouts.”

It looks like chunky diarrhea. “Oh,” I say.

“Would you like some?” Abby offers.

I push away a wave of revulsion. “Um, sure.”

“Wonderful!” Abby waves her hand over the pan of food to allow the smell to waft up to her nostrils. “Mmm… this smells so good. It’s making my stomach growl.”

She has got to be putting me on. This food smells awful. It smells like somebody left some beans out for a few months, they rotted, and then someone mixed the rotted bean curd with garbage.

Abby spoons her concoction onto two plates while I pour myself a glass of water. I sit down at the table and stare at my plate. I do not want to eat this. But I have to do something drastic. I don’t want Brody to see me naked looking the way I do now.

“Try it,” Abby encourages me. “Honestly, Emily, it’s amazeballs!”

Well, if it’s amazeballs. Whatever the hell that means.

I cautiously dip my fork into the food. Oh God, I really don’t want to eat this. I push the forkful of bean curd into my mouth, then I force myself to chew and swallow.

I clamp my hand over my mouth. It’s the only thing keeping me from vomiting.

“Isn’t it good?” Abby asks me.

I’m saved from having to give a response by the ringing of my cell phone. I pull it out of my pocket and see the number Brody gave me popping up on the screen. Abby’s eyes light up. “Is that the guy you’ve been dating?”

I nod and turn away from her to answer the call: “Hey there.”

“Hey!” It’s Brody’s voice. “I’m calling you on your phone! First time!”

Sometimes he’s too cute for words. “You sure are.”

“Can you talk? Am I interrupting anything?”

I look up at Abby, who is hanging on my every word, curious for information about this guy who is actually willing to go out with me. She’s been trying to pump me for details, but I’ve been avoiding her. “Abby,” I say. “Would you mind if I ate the rest of this in my room?”

Abby’s face falls—I guess she wanted us to bond over bean curd. I grab the plate and run to my room. There’s absolutely no way I’m eating this plate of food—I’ll dump it in the garbage disposal tonight, when Abby is in her room.

“Thank you,” I say into the phone. “You saved me from dinner with my roommate.”

“You never told me you had a roommate,” he says.

“Not much to tell,” I say. “I have a roommate. She’s nice but annoying.”

“Why is she annoying?”

“Let me put it this way,” I say, “she uses the word ‘amazeballs.’ Like, not sarcastically.”

“I didn’t know women used that word.”

“Are you kidding me? Only women use that word.”

“Yeah, but it has the word ‘balls’ in it.”

I laugh into the phone. “I don’t think the ‘balls’ in ‘amazeballs’ necessarily refers to testicles.”

“I always assumed it did.”

I’m pretty sure it doesn’t. But I’m going to mention this to Abby. Maybe I can get her to stop saying it. That would be amazeballs.

“So here’s the deal,” Brody says. “Unfortunately, Mike’s girlfriend is coming into town this weekend from Colorado, so I don’t think he’s going to be able to help me. I’m getting my brother to cover for him on Saturday night, so he won’t be around at all.”

“Oh,” I say.

“I know—it’s frustrating,” he sighs. “But I was thinking, if you’re free, maybe we could do something outside on Saturday? It’s supposed to be a nice day. Like… the Central Park Zoo?”

“All right,” I agree. I haven’t been to the zoo since I was a child. I kind of remember that it used to smell like animals and animal poop.

“Great,” he says. “Do you want to meet by the front entrance at three?”

“Sure.”

“I can’t wait,” he says.

I love how Brody doesn’t play games. Even though I’ve never been in an actual relationship before, I’ve been in plenty of online ones and it seemed like there was usually never a good balance of how attentive the guy was. Either he’d be way too aloof and act like he didn’t care at all if we talked, or he’d be way too needy. Brody doesn’t seem worried about waiting X number of days before calling me, or not letting on that he wants to see me. Yet he doesn’t bother me every two seconds with texts and calls. I like that.

“Also,” he says, “I have a question.”

“Sure.”

“Why did Camille Davison send me a Facebook message saying, ‘Stay away from my sister’?”

I groan. “She didn’t…”

“Yeah…” He snorts. “I guess you told her we were going out?”

“I did. And… she doesn’t like you very much.”

That makes him laugh. “Even after all these years. Wow. Nice.”

“Actually, she…” I suck in a breath. “She told me that you… you asked her out in high school.”

“I what?”

He sounds surprised, but he’s not denying it. “Did you?”

“No!” he says vehemently. “Definitely not. Believe me, I didn’t like her or want to go out with her. I don’t know why she thinks that. If anything, she was always trying to…”

I wait for him to finish this thought, but he doesn’t. “Trying to what?”

“Nothing.” His voice is subdued. “Hey, did you tell Cammy that… you know, that I use a wheelchair now?”

“No…” I bite my lip. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to gossip or anything.”

“It’s not like it’s a secret.”

I can’t tell if he’s offended or not that I didn’t tell her. “I’ll tell her.”

“Okay.” He hesitates. “But just so you know, no matter what Cammy says, I don’t want to stay away from you. Just the opposite.”

I smile. “Me too.”

“So we agree your sister is full of it?”

I laugh. “Yeah, agreed.”

“Hey, Emily,” Brody says. His voice gets a little husky. “What are you wearing right now?”

I look down at my T-shirt and sweatpants. “I’m in my nightie,” I say. I have no idea what a nightie is, but it sounds way sexier than a T-shirt and sweatpants. Especially since I bought the sweatpants about thirty pounds ago, and they are digging into my belly, making an unsexy red line.

“I wish I were with you,” he says. And he sounds like he really, really means it.

“I could come over now,” I say tentatively. “I mean, if you’d like.”

“Seriously?” Brody sounds some combination of nervous and excited.

“Well, sure,” I say. It’s only eight o’clock. I usually don’t go to sleep till at least midnight, so I could hang out for a few hours at Brody’s apartment.

“The thing is,” he says. “Mike comes at nine-thirty to help me get ready for bed, so… I mean, by the time you got here…” I can hear the frustration in his voice. “Maybe it’s not the best idea, Emily. I’m sorry. I do want to see you. I mean, it would have been awesome. It would have been amazeballs.”

“It’s okay,” I say.

“I’m really sorry,” he says again.

I try to hide my disappointment. “Don’t worry about it.”

We talk about this and that for a while longer. He finally gets off the phone when Mike comes in and it’s time for him to get ready for bed. I’m not even close to ready for bed, so instead, I go out and get myself a real dinner, surreptitiously tossing my bean curd down the garbage disposal on the way out.