She beams. “Oh, I told him how proud I was of you! You’re doing so wonderful.”
That’s nice, but it makes no sense. “What did he say?”
She shrugs. “Nothing. He just listened.” I watch her, and I don’t think she’s lying. Or even hiding the truth. “Why do you ask?”
She holds my gaze, and I know I should walk away from this. I know I should let it be, but I want it to stop. “He isn’t nice to me. Never has been, really.”
Once more, she’s taken aback. “What do you mean? Leroy loves you. We both do!”
Oh, this is so awkward. “London, he is always making fun of my weight and mooing at me.”
“Mooing?”
I nod. “Like a cow. He moos at me.”
She laughs. “Oh, Angie, stop. He’s probably just messing with you. He isn’t like that.”
I shake my head, and her laughter dies off. “He is. He’s really awful to me.”
London smiles, coming over to take my hand. “I promise you, he’s only playing around. He would never be mean to someone we care for. You’re family.”
“I don’t feel—”
“I’m telling you, he’s only messing around,” she says more forcefully.
The grin is there, but in her eyes, I can see she’s getting upset. I press my lips together, knowing there is no point in even trying to fight her on this. She doesn’t believe for a second her boyfriend is a fat-phobic asshole. “Can you tell him to stop?”
She scoffs. “Stop what? He treats you like a sister.”
“I have two brothers and a sister. We don’t fat shame one another.”
She side-eyes me. “I thought you don’t talk to them because you’re overweight?”
My heart drops to my stomach. “I do talk to them, and they might not know, but even so, they wouldn’t fat shame me.”
“He isn’t doing that,” she says, shaking her head. “I promise you. Don’t be so sensitive. He’s only teasing you.”
Wow. Okay. “I’m not being sensitive, but good to know that you’ll listen to my concerns.”
“Angie, stop. I am,” she says, stopping me, but I move my arm from her hand. “I think you’re misunderstanding him.”
“He just said you were wrong in assuming I had lost weight. Oh, and that it will take more than a smoothie to help me lose weight.”
Something flashes in her eyes, but she only says, “Maybe you heard him wrong.”
“Nope. I know what I heard, but now that I know where I stand, thanks.”
I put my smoothie cup in the dishwasher and head toward my room. Once the door shuts behind me, I sit on my bed and allow the tears to slide down my cheeks. My only friend in this fucking town doesn’t believe me when I tell her about her shitty boyfriend. I have no clue how I am supposed to face her after that, but I knew I had to say something. Now, though, I guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. He says anything to me, I’m cussing him out.
I’ll also start looking for another place.
I look over at my plants, all thriving with the sun shining on their leaves. I’ll need a room just for them, but at least they don’t call me fat.
Owen would never call me fat.
I drop my face into my hands. Why did I think that? He is the last person I need to think about right now, but in my heart, I know he would never say anything like that or even allow someone else to. Nor would my family, but I’m so scared of everyone’s opinion of me. The judgment. Say I give in to Owen, believe him, we go out, and someone makes a comment. Would he realize then that maybe I’m not worth it? Then my family, they’ll love me, of course, but what if they realize that I’m not as good as my siblings? Or even my cousins?
Fuck, why do I do this to myself?
Just then, my phone sounds. I furrow my brow since it’s only a number and not a contact. With just the word Hey.
I write back, asking who it is. And right away, Evan says it’s him.
Me: Oh! Hey! How are you?
Evan: Living the dream. How are you?
Me: Alive and thriving. Are you adjusting to being home?
Evan: Yeah, I am. I started with a new therapist here, and I’m doing well. They put me on an antidepressant.
Me: Wow, okay. How do you feel?
Evan: Okay, but then I have nothing causing me pressure or anxiety.
Me: This is true. But maybe that’s what you need right now?
Evan: Maybe. Sorry. Hope it’s okay I texted you.
Me: Absolutely. I guess I didn’t save your number. I thought I had.
Evan: No big, but I do need to be honest.
Me: Honest?
Evan: Yeah, I’m actually not texting you for me. While I wanted to make sure you’re good, I do have an ulterior motive.