Bigger (The Nicky Beets series) by Erin Mayes Read Free Book Online

night
and there was this story about obesity and …” I was choked up and crying again.
“I was on TV. I was on the news .
There was video of me walking down the street, looking … grotesque. And of
course I was eating hot dogs.”
    There was a long pause on my mother’s end while I wiped tears from my
cheeks with a tissue.
    “I’m sure you didn’t look grotesque,” she reassured.
    “You had to see it,” I wailed. “It was terrible. I’m so humiliated and
disgusted with myself.”
    “Well, Nicole …” my mom seemed to hesitate.
    “Yeah?” I sniffled.
    “Well, I hate to say it, but this should be a wake-up call for you,” she
said.
    I let a few heartbeats pass as her words sank in.
    “ Mom …”
    “I’m sorry, honey, but it’s true,” she interrupted. “I’ve been trying to
help you lose all that weight you’ve put on since you and Charles started
dating and now you’ve reached a point where there’s simply no denying it. It’s
time to do something about it.”
    I could not believe my mother was going to claim “I told you so” in this
instance. She must think of her lingering, judgmental gazes at my thighs and
unwelcome suggestions – “maybe you shouldn’t have any more cake” –
as helping me.
    “Unbelievable,” I replied. “You have never tried to help me lose weight.”
    “I have, too!”
    “Um, no,” I insisted. “Unless endless criticism is considered helpful
these days?”
    “Nicole, I’m not perfect. I only do what I think is best for you.”
    “Well, newsflash Mom,” I snipped. “It doesn’t help. Neither does keeping
all that shitty food at your house. You say one thing and do another.”
    I decided to dig the knife in. “You probably love it that I’m fat so you
can feel better about yourself.”
    Mom gasped. “Of course I don’t! And I don’t appreciate you taking that
tone with me.”
    “Well, I’m not seven years old anymore, Mom. And I don’t appreciate you telling me my failings in life are because
I’ve refused to listen to you. What I needed from you was moral support, but
you can’t even manage that.”
    “That’s what I’m doing!” she shrieked. “I’m trying to help you see this
is like a flashing neon sign in your life, telling you it is time to get moving
and lose the weight.”
    I’d had enough.
    “This was obviously a mistake,” I answered, then stabbed at the “end” button
on my phone with one plump index finger.
    The repercussions of hanging up on Lenore Beets would be great, but this
situation certainly warranted it.

 
 
    Good old Lenore – can’t live with her, and she won’t let you live
without her.
    I’m her only child. She kicked my dad out so long ago I don’t remember
him being around at all. The story goes he loved the reefer more than he loved
Lenore, and that doesn’t fly. I think my dad and marijuana are still good
friends, actually. He’d made his great escape up to Durham, a tiny agricultural
town with only a few thousand people. It’s a conveniently quick car trip to
Chico. I haven’t seen him in years and that’s just fine. Every now and then he
sends me a touristy tchotchke; one particularly special year he sent a Chico
State University magnet for Christmas. Mostly he doesn’t bother.
    I think if Lenore hadn’t given him the boot, he’d likely have left on his
own. She’s driven more than one man to the brink of rage. My dad met my mom
when they were both still in high school, and from what I can tell they’re both
still stuck there mentally. Lenore never grew out of her self-centered,
bubble-gum snapping high-school cheerleader phase, and he’s still trapped in a
let’s-get-high-and-screw phase.
    After my father left when I was two years old, it was just me and Lenore.
As I grew up, she had a number of boyfriends who all seemed nice enough to me.
Most had money and took us on trips – or took her on trips while I was
looked after by my grandparents.
    Sooner or later, they all realized