Teenage Waistland (28 page)

“You don’t forgive me! You have to!” she whimpers. I start to head back down the hill and leave her in the wet grass, but my anger resurfaces and I turn around again.

“I needed Julius. And my mom too. And he needed us. Because of you, we didn’t have each other when we needed each other most. But yeah, Char. I even forgive you for that,” I say through gritted teeth. “But here’s the thing. When you were explaining why Jewish people fill the graves themselves, I was wondering why I was never able to accept my father’s loss. And just this moment, as I left you alone in the mud, I realized that all this misery and weight gain and all the stuff you call awfulizing wasn’t really about my father at all. It was about what
you
did to me.”

Char’s arms are hanging limply at her side and she’s looking at me in complete bewilderment.

“You know what I’m talking about, Char. It was
you
who let me go on believing that my mother kicked Julius out because she wasn’t up to dealing with his problems. Do you know how long I’ve lived in fear that if I did something wrong, if I had a problem, if I needed anything from her, if I wasn’t the best little girl ever, she’d send me away too? As you said, I do what I’m told, no questions asked.
But that’s
why!
Do you know how much my mother’s suffered alone for three whole years
needing me
, while I was in the next room choking on my own anger—my hatred for her for abandoning Julius? My fear of my mother, and my hatred for her was all because of you. And because of that hatred, I wouldn’t even try to help her—talk to her about how she was feeling, convince her to get help, nothing. And here
you
were
supposedly
my best friend.”

“East! You have to know that
we
kept this secret from you to save you from more pain—not make it worse. They made me swear to not tell you.”

I laugh loudly in Char’s face. “Suddenly Char Newman plays by the rules? You’ll say anything to anyone to get what you want—to Bobby and Julius, to Teenage Waistland, to me, to everyone—you don’t care what crazy lies you have to tell. But the one thing that might have helped me accept my father’s death and saved me from drowning in all this fear and anger was the truth about why my brother got sent away, and that’s the one thing you wouldn’t tell me. Now get up and wipe yourself off. You’re a mess and Abby and Liselle are waiting for us.” This time when I head down the hill, I don’t turn back.

My eyes are closed and I’m huddled in the backseat of Abby’s Land Rover shivering from the dampness. The engine is running and the heater is on, but I don’t feel like I’ll ever get warm. Abby and Liselle are with Marcie and her dad a few cars down, and Char, for all I care, is still on her knees in the rain. But I hear a door open and feel the weight on
the leather seat as Char climbs in next to me. She slams the door loudly. I shrivel further into my corner and tighten my eyes.

“Okay,” she says. “I should’ve told you the truth regardless of any stupid promise. I saw you suffering and I knew you so needed to know. But, y’know, East? Our moms were best friends from high school—at least twice as long as we’ve been, and this thing completely destroyed their friendship. I was terrified that it would wreck ours too. For a while, I kept thinking you would ask me why they stopped talking, but mostly I just worried. I didn’t want to lose you—and I used their pact, to never talk of what happened to anyone, as my excuse not to tell you. So yes, that was selfish of me, I so understand that.
But
I wasn’t
completely
selfish and you weren’t the only victim.” I feel Char watching me scrunch my eyes to keep myself from looking at her, and I’m starting to feel idiotic acting like I’m back in kindergarten, so I just open them.

“Okay, Char. I’m listening. Tell me who else got tangled in the spiderweb besides my brother and mother. And Bobby—you hurt him too, you know.”

“Listen to yourself, East! I wouldn’t have believed you were even capable of being so hard if I didn’t actually see your lips move. And why are you bringing Bobby up? He’s got nothing to do with Julius. Or us!”

I just stare at her coldly, and she stares back at me the same way for a couple of minutes until I drop my eyes. “All right, Char,” I say. “You’re right—I shouldn’t have brought Bobby into this. Tell me how you weren’t completely selfish and who else is on the injured-party list?”

Char’s still staring at me. Her lower lip is trembling and
her eyes are filling up again. “
Me
.
I
was hurt, East. I’m still hurting,” she says softly, her voice cracking.

Again, I’m staring at a stranger—but for a different reason. I can’t remember a time—not one—that Char ever uttered a word of self-pity. I guess every relationship can hold only so much of it, and mine filled the quota. I can’t remember ever having to pick her up and brush her off when she fell—but a million times it was the other way around.
I’m such an idiot
.

“Oh, Char. I know, Char. You were another victim of all this. You were. I’m so sorry about the—the …” I falter and cannot finish.

“The appendectomy?” Char says. There’s a hint of a sad smile on her lips and I nod and burst into tears. But Char shakes her head. “It was awful; I was only twelve, and it was like getting a hundred tonsils removed, with no ice cream or anything to coat how raw and sad I felt. But when I say I was damaged too by this,
that’s
only part of it.”

“Is there yet another secret you’re about to tell me?” I say, seesawing between sympathy and fear. Char shakes her head again.

“East, how do you not see? You were never alone in that pit—I’ve always been right there with you, not only feeling your pain but choking down
my
anger and
my
grief too. I’ve had to be strong and happy because you were so sad and helpless—I owed that to you and I wanted to be that for you. But that meant that I had to hide the reality and not face how I felt about the—my abortion. I felt it eating me up inside, but being what you needed had to come first. I felt I didn’t have a right to heal because of what I did to your family. You know, being what you need whenever you need it
has become such a way of life for me, I don’t even know who I am—or if I even exist—without you. I know this sounds crazy, but that’s how it is for me.”

Char studies me for a moment, and then drops her head to study her hands, as if to say
If you don’t understand this, I have no words left
. But I do understand, and this doesn’t sound crazy to me at all. It’s familiar—something I’ve always recognized in me and in my relationship with Char, but without being able to attach words to it. I feel a strange kind of relief—not happiness, but exhilaration. If truth could
feel
like something, it would feel like this.

“Char. I know what you mean. I
so
know. You’ve never let me cry alone. Or,” I say between sobs, “eat alone.”

But Char shakes her head again. “I did, East. For a little bit, after your surgery. I was just so upset about screwing up my own chances for the surgery because of the lie I’ve been carrying that I didn’t have enough energy and I—I guess I just wanted a little something for myself, something that I didn’t have to work so hard for in order to feel good about myself again.” I’m just nodding. She’s talking about Bobby. And, Marcie. And Teenage Waistland.

“Char—God—I’m so sorry about all that too. For screwing everything up for you. With Bobby and Teenage Waistland and everything. But you can still come back and try to work things out—I’ll come with you to talk to Betsy,” I say. “I know she’ll let you back in.”

Char widens her eyes and shakes her head forcefully. “East, I could never face those people again. They hate me, especially Bobby. And they totally should. I lied to them, I disrupted the group just to avoid addressing—ugh—everything we’ve just talked about. Nope—I’m on to the
next chapter in my life,” she says. “And that is—ta-da—Lap-Band surgery in Tijuana, Mexico. Three weeks from today. Olé!” She dries her face with the back of her hand. “Oh—I really mean the next chapter in
our
life.” She laughs. “Will you come with?”

Carlo and I have a running bet that—starting from the time we crossed over the Massachusetts state line into Connecticut a couple of hours ago—I’m going to spew one of my favorite “unladylike” invectives before he breaks down and lights up a cigarette.

“What word is that again, Miss Marcie?” Carlo goads me.

I pull out a pack of Camels from the glove compartment and wave it under his nose. He inhales deeply and I say, “What do you say we just screw the bet and light up one of these delicious death sticks?” But he grabs the pack in his right hand and lowers the window with his left, and out it goes. All without us swerving into oncoming traffic.

“Damn!” I exclaim. Carlo furrows his brow. “I’m still allowed to say that! You’re the one quitting cold turkey, not me!”

My vocabulary isn’t the only part of me I’m taking out of my butt (along with my head). Take Jill and me, for example. Poor Dad didn’t get a word in edgewise all week. I even suggested that we all go away somewhere together over
Christmas break. And maybe even bring Liselle so I don’t have to bunk with the cheesy lovebirds. Liselle and I have been texting back and forth constantly, and I miss her. And Mom. And even Ronny, who was such a sweetheart to send Carlo up to Boston to get me although I could have easily taken the train. I’m even sort of looking forward to getting back to Alpine. But first stop is Teenage Waistland, even though Bitsy said I could skip this session if I wanted. If not for Char agreeing to meet East and me for dinner afterward, I’d blow this sucker off in a heartbeat.

Teenage Waistland is finishing its “round-the-room” confessional where everyone cops to their eating sins—Bitsy calls this the eating behaviors review—when I tiptoe in, but I could’ve pulled the pin on a hand grenade and gotten the same reaction.
Hey, it’s Marcie! Mar-cie! How are you, girlfriend! Oh, so sorry about Jen, Marce!
And Bitsy’s not even having an aneurysm over everyone shouting out—actually, she jumps out of her seat before I’m halfway to the circle and hugs me!

“It’s good to see you, Marcie. I’m so happy you came. How are you holding up?” she says warmly.

I smile and mumble, “Fine, thanks.” And then I feel heat on my cheeks—a blush? WTF?

I quickly take my seat in the circle next to East, and then I stand right up again and ask her to kindly remove her purse from my butt—under my breath for the most part. A couple of chuckles erupt in the circle, but Bitsy just smiles placidly—as if she’s got bigger plans for me than a little “shush.”

“Marcie,” Bitsy starts, “first, again, we are all so sorry—
the group is devastated over Jennifer’s death and deeply sorry for the pain and loss you’re dealing with. Such a terrible tragedy. She was a smart, lovely, engaging young lady. I’m glad everyone here had the chance to get to know her better at Coco’s party.” I see Coco and Michelle exchange glances.

“Yeah, well, I guess Jen got to know Jose Cuervo a little more than she did some of you guys. She was awful that night, I know, but she was going through, I don’t know … some stuff. Really, Jen was an exceptional person,” I say. My eyes tear up and East hands me a tissue.

“Can you talk about Jennifer, Marcie? The kinds of ‘stuff’ she was going through?” Bitsy says. “If it’s too soon, I understand—”

“No,” I cut in. “I want to talk about her. I miss her and I’m never going to
not
talk about her.” The periodic tear is winding its way down my face, and as I glance at East, she shows me her open purse—
wads
of tissues—and gets a clean one ready for me. “Jen’s toxicology report came back yesterday. Alcohol poisoning.” I stop and let the group do their gasping. I shrug. “Jen has—
had
—been drinking. A lot.”

“Since she’d gotten the Lap-Band?” Bitsy says too carefully for me
not
to see where she’s going. I feel an unexpected burst of rage.

“She’s not your
freaking
group lesson!” I explode. “She was my best friend and I already feel badly enough about what I did to her!” East’s ready with the tissue, but I knock it away. Immediately sorry, I gently remove it from her still-outstretched hand with an apologetic smile.