Needless to say, my relationship has mostly stayed tentative with my parents. They’ve made it clear they expect me to participate in a variety of functions to keep up appearances, and in appreciation for my cooperation, they donate to my favorite charity. It raises tons of money each year, benefiting the Humane Society, a handful of trap and release programs, quarterly spay and neuter clinics, and providing free medical care to those who can’t afford it for their pets. I absolutely love the program, but I don’t care for the man who started it.
Jameson Wahlberg is the golden boy of Denver. The starting quarterback for the NFL’s Colorado Coyotes. He’s perfect and he knows it. The only reason I know he owns the LLC that the charity is under is because I saw an interview with him where he referenced the name, almost in an afterthought. I did a little digging into the LLC, finding a connection to his agent. Since I’ve seen both of them at a couple of adoption events in the city, I figured he was the proprietary owner. Do I absolutely know this? No.
But of course he is. Perfect golden boy with his good looks and a ridiculously chiseled body. Dark brown hair that always seems deliciously unkempt, like someone had their hands gripping it and held on for dear life. It’s his blue eyes that really unnerve me, though. I feel like I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes without feeling he’s seeing straight into my soul. Knowing me, I’d have one conversation with him, scaring him half to death with my awkwardness and discomfort. It’s a tale as old as time: brilliant Audrey Carrington puts her foot in her mouth yet again, scaring off potential love interests. Or friends. Frankly, my inner circle is about two feet in diameter.
“Paige said Dexter is prepared to take off work for the evening to show family support. You will be on your best behavior, Audrey. I will accept nothing less.”
“You act like I routinely get on the table and take off my shirt,” I remark dryly.
My mother gasps audibly, and I can imagine her hand resting on her sternum in faux shock. She’s an excellent actress, a proper woman of money and good standing who can deliver remarkable empathy and caring, then turn around and rip someone to shreds. It’s disgusting to watch, and I’m so glad I’m nothing like her.
“Audrey, I do not appreciate your jokes.”
“Then don’t call me.” Even I’m surprised at my audacity, realizing an internal thought became verbal, courtesy of an intrusive thought winning.
“Audrey Elizabeth, I did not raise you to speak so abruptly to me,” she chides.
“You didn’t raise me. The nannies did.”
She scoffs. “As if it matters. You were taught not to be so disrespectful.”
I don’t answer. She is correct. It was drilled into my head from as early as I can remember that I was not to backtalk to my parents, or any adults in general.
“Wear one of your black dresses. They’re slimming.”
“Mom.”
“What?” she says breezily. “We don’t want a repeat after that hospital gala from a few years ago.”
I don’t know how it becamemyfault that she forced me into a too-small dress, and when I bent over to pick up a napkin I’d dropped after getting an amaretto sour from the bar, the dress ripped right down the seam from mid-back to mid-thigh. It was horrid, and I refused to speak to my mother for six months.
I’m a plus-size woman. Not curvy. Not voluptuous. I’m big. Typically around a size eighteen or twenty. No matter how much I diet, or what exercise fad I try out, I can’t seem to lose the weight. Getting under two hundred pounds has been a challenge, and I’ve been flirting with that number for a few months. I’m on a plateau I’d love to jump off, but it’s been much more difficult than I thought possible.
Everyone in my family is skin and bones except for me. I take after my dad’s family, where all of my aunts have struggled with their weight. It never really bothered me until I entered veterinarian school, and I had my first real crush on a man. I was a late bloomer, and didn’t have my first kiss until I was in college. But meeting Sean was the first time I truly saw a man. Where I could barely focus because I daydreamed about him. At first, I thought Sean returned my feelings. Until I heard him ragging on me behind my back one afternoon. We’d been studying together for weeks, and he admitted to his friends that he was only using me to get ahead with our classes. He was truly befuddled when I refused to talk to him after that, only confronting him when he jokingly said he’d fail the next test if I didn’t help him study.
He did fail. He failed out of the program completely.
And I didn’t feel even a moment of regret.
Maybe that’s the first time I truly stood up for myself. A turning point in my life, when I realized the only person who can bring me happiness is me.
“I’m sending over a variety of dresses for you to try on. You will not show up in something else.”
“I will absolutely show up in something else if you send all of the wrong sizes again.”
“Audrey,” my mother warns.
“Mother,” I reply, my voice replicating hers. “You can’t send me a size fourteen dress and expect it to work. All the Spanx in the world won’t even help that.”
“The event isn’t for three weeks, Audrey. You can lose at least twenty pounds by then. Write yourself an Ozempic prescription.”
“Wow,” I breathe, only slightly surprised at how easily my mother expects me to commit fraud. “I’m sure it’ll be easy to explain to my pharmacy why my name is both the issuing doctor and the patient, not to mention the fact that veterinarians don’t prescribe weight loss medications, Mother.”
She tsks, effectively ignoring everything I’ve said. “You need to make better choices. How do you expect to ever find a husband in your current situation?”
And with that, I’m done. “I have to go, Mother. I have a patient.”
“It’s Sunday.”
