Read Online Big Fat Manifesto by Susan Vaught - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Vaught
Ads: Link
big money.
Freddie, NoNo, and I all have the same look on our faces about Burke changing his mind on the gastric bypass.
The look says, Yeah, like that's going to happen.
No matter what we want, no matter how we feel, short of divine intervention, Burke is having that surgery. I glance down at
my belly-spread and the way my thighs look bigger than NoNo's whole body, at the awful brown "landlord carpet," and finally
at the blank essay paper. All proof that God has never been too fond of answering my prayers.
Freddie shifts tactics faster than I can work up a good feeling-sorry-for-myself attitude. "Are you going to the hospital
even though Anastasia and Drizella will be there?"
"Damn straight." I can't help grinning at Freddie's Cinderella's wicked stepsisters' nicknames for Burke's older siblings.
Their names are really Mona (oldest) and Marlene (meanest—as in, she really could drink blood and take over the vampire world
with no guilt at all), M & M for short.
"Good." Freddie scratches something on her Vanderbilt application. "We'll be there too. Early."
Which draws a horrified look from NoNo, who views hospitals as vile pestilence-spreading ecohazards—but she knows better than
to argue with Freddie and me about something this important.
After a few seconds of trembling disgust, NoNo closes her eyes, opens them, and looks at me. "When's opening night for The Wiz?"
"October sixth," I say, then fish around for something witty and Evilleneish to keep it light. Find zero. Nothing. My brain
is flashing almost three weeks after Burke, but I shake it off. Burke isn't going to die on September 18. He'll come out of the operating room just fine, except his stomach
will be stapled into two parts, with the food-getting part about the size of my thumb.
He'll feel full after two tablespoons of food, especially at first.
I've done my reading.
The thought of a thumb-sized stomach, two tablespoons, completely freaks me out. I like to eat. Especially if something tastes good. I like to eat until I can't eat anymore, if
something's perfect, like Mom's stew.
My hand goes to my belly, until I realize Freddie and NoNo are both staring at me. I jerk my hand off my stomach and stuff
my fist into the brown carpet. "I don't want to talk about Burke's surgery." All of a sudden, my stew isn't sitting well inside.
My arms and legs and chest tighten, and it gets hard to breathe. "Tonight, I just want to finish these damned applications,
okay?"
Freddie gives me another shrug and scrubs her palms against her jeans before going back to her Vanderbilt application. NoNo
lowers her head and colors Green Party logos on her fliers.
Through the end of one game show and the start of another, I stare at my blank paper and reswallow the stew that's burning
up my throat. My chest pulls and squeezes whenever I try to breathe.
The only thing I can think about is Burke and Burke dying and Burke not being in the world anymore. Even if he survives, our
world will change so much. Our world together, I mean. We won't be going out for pizza anymore after he has that surgery,
or sharing a milkshake and fries, or anything much to do with food at all. He probably won't even eat popcorn at the movies,
and he definitely won't be scarfing down his absolute favorite: four plain chocolate bars, snapped in half, two bites per
half. That box of chocolate bars I keep in my closet just to take candy to him—it'll have to go.
Two tablespoons.
Tighter chest. Blank paper. What am I going to put on the blank paper? I have to put something there.
We can always go to movies with no popcorn, or find other stuff to do. Get a grip. He said you were his goddess. He asked you not to leave him.
But I'm scared.
Burke's scared, too, at least somewhere in those glittery-zealot eyes, or he wouldn't have been worried I'd leave him.
Me leave him?
Stop it. Not thinking about it. Applications only, at least for tonight.
On my blank pages, I
Freddie, NoNo, and I all have the same look on our faces about Burke changing his mind on the gastric bypass.
The look says, Yeah, like that's going to happen.
No matter what we want, no matter how we feel, short of divine intervention, Burke is having that surgery. I glance down at
my belly-spread and the way my thighs look bigger than NoNo's whole body, at the awful brown "landlord carpet," and finally
at the blank essay paper. All proof that God has never been too fond of answering my prayers.
Freddie shifts tactics faster than I can work up a good feeling-sorry-for-myself attitude. "Are you going to the hospital
even though Anastasia and Drizella will be there?"
"Damn straight." I can't help grinning at Freddie's Cinderella's wicked stepsisters' nicknames for Burke's older siblings.
Their names are really Mona (oldest) and Marlene (meanest—as in, she really could drink blood and take over the vampire world
with no guilt at all), M & M for short.
"Good." Freddie scratches something on her Vanderbilt application. "We'll be there too. Early."
Which draws a horrified look from NoNo, who views hospitals as vile pestilence-spreading ecohazards—but she knows better than
to argue with Freddie and me about something this important.
After a few seconds of trembling disgust, NoNo closes her eyes, opens them, and looks at me. "When's opening night for The Wiz?"
"October sixth," I say, then fish around for something witty and Evilleneish to keep it light. Find zero. Nothing. My brain
is flashing almost three weeks after Burke, but I shake it off. Burke isn't going to die on September 18. He'll come out of the operating room just fine, except his stomach
will be stapled into two parts, with the food-getting part about the size of my thumb.
He'll feel full after two tablespoons of food, especially at first.
I've done my reading.
The thought of a thumb-sized stomach, two tablespoons, completely freaks me out. I like to eat. Especially if something tastes good. I like to eat until I can't eat anymore, if
something's perfect, like Mom's stew.
My hand goes to my belly, until I realize Freddie and NoNo are both staring at me. I jerk my hand off my stomach and stuff
my fist into the brown carpet. "I don't want to talk about Burke's surgery." All of a sudden, my stew isn't sitting well inside.
My arms and legs and chest tighten, and it gets hard to breathe. "Tonight, I just want to finish these damned applications,
okay?"
Freddie gives me another shrug and scrubs her palms against her jeans before going back to her Vanderbilt application. NoNo
lowers her head and colors Green Party logos on her fliers.
Through the end of one game show and the start of another, I stare at my blank paper and reswallow the stew that's burning
up my throat. My chest pulls and squeezes whenever I try to breathe.
The only thing I can think about is Burke and Burke dying and Burke not being in the world anymore. Even if he survives, our
world will change so much. Our world together, I mean. We won't be going out for pizza anymore after he has that surgery,
or sharing a milkshake and fries, or anything much to do with food at all. He probably won't even eat popcorn at the movies,
and he definitely won't be scarfing down his absolute favorite: four plain chocolate bars, snapped in half, two bites per
half. That box of chocolate bars I keep in my closet just to take candy to him—it'll have to go.
Two tablespoons.
Tighter chest. Blank paper. What am I going to put on the blank paper? I have to put something there.
We can always go to movies with no popcorn, or find other stuff to do. Get a grip. He said you were his goddess. He asked you not to leave him.
But I'm scared.
Burke's scared, too, at least somewhere in those glittery-zealot eyes, or he wouldn't have been worried I'd leave him.
Me leave him?
Stop it. Not thinking about it. Applications only, at least for tonight.
On my blank pages, I
Similar Books
