Julia's Chocolates by Cathy Lamb Read Free Book Online Page A

well”—a mean laugh—“they don’t quite look right, do they? On someone who was built thinner than you, they might, but Cannonball, these aren’t made for you.”
    And the worst, “Would it kill you to show a little enthusiasm in bed? What is wrong with you? I think it would be easier to have sex with an icicle.”
    And still I stayed. I tried to please him. That didn’t work. I tried walking away. He came after me. I tried to fight back, but he squashed all my efforts. By the time I took off on our wedding day, I realized I hated him for making me hate myself.
    “There is power in your breasts!” Lydia boomed. “Sit up straighter, Katie! Look for your power!”
    I watched Katie struggle to sit up straight, her eyes at half-mast. Her face was more relaxed now than it had been, the wine having worked its wonders, her red hair only loosely held back by a rubber band, but even in the candlelight I could see her exhaustion, and I sensed her profound unhappiness, as if black charcoals had settled on her soul.
    “I think my power was lost the first day I gave birth,” she said with a groan. She picked up the mirror that Lydia handed to her and held it up to her large, tired-looking breasts. Her bra, I had noted, was tattered and frayed, a dull beige. Her bra and her sweatshirt were folded neatly behind her.
    “I have nursed four children. One still reaches for me as soon as I walk in the door. Sometimes I think it’s like having a pet leech. Oh, God. Did I just call my child a pet leech?” She groaned again, dropping the mirror.
    “He’s not a leech,” she muttered, tears pooling in those dark eyes. “He’s so adorable, I could cry. Yesterday he climbed on my lap and kissed me on the cheek and said, ‘I love you better than the cat, Momma.’ Better than the cat! And he loves that cat.”
    “You must regain yourself through your breasts, Katie!” Lydia admonished although I noticed that her voice was softer. “You have to make some choices.”
    “I’ve made a choice to sit in this house, on this floor, and drink a lot of vine. I mean wine. It’s the perfect choice.” Katie lay back down and giggled, balancing a mirror on her breast. “There are no children to take care of. I am doing no housework in my home right now, or anyone else’s. I am not dealing with Mrs. Nunley, who told me today I wasn’t a good grout cleaner.”
    “You’re not a good grout cleaner!” Lara laughed, taking a break from her drunken mimicking. “Horrors. I am sure you will be going to hell for that! I will pray for you.”
    “That would be helpful, Lara,” Katie said. “Pray also that I don’t try to grout Mrs. Nunley’s face.”
    “How many houses did you clean this week?” Aunt Lydia asked.
    “Fifteen so far. Fifteen houses in Golden are bright and spanking-clean because of my vacuum cleaner and dust rag. See?” she declared, sitting up again and wobbling just a bit. “I have become what I wanted to become. A business owner! Whooo hooo! Katie’s Cleaning.”
    But the whooo hooo came out weak, tired.
    I knew something was up with Katie, and I knew the other women knew, too, by the way they looked at her, but no one said a thing.
    “Mrs. Nunley said she is not going to recommend me to any of her friends unless I whiten the grout. ‘Make it as white as my teeth’ she told me. ‘ As white as my teeth. ’ Then she pulled back her lips with those wrinkled hands of hers and showed me her teeth, sticking out her tongue so I could see right down her throat.”
    Katie started to laugh. I noticed the slight pitch of hysteria. “They weren’t white! She had rows of those silver fillings, and her front teeth were yellow. And there she is, with a sick grin on her face, her fingers pulling her lips back to her ears and telling me to make her grout as white as her teeth. At least I have my won-der-ful husband to support me.”
    I did not miss the looks that Caroline, Lydia, and Lara exchanged.
    “Oh, gag me,” Lara