Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
ANDY
Declan
Tell me three things.
Me
I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive my mom for choosing drugs over me. I want to experience what it would be like to have a partner who loves and supports me and can figure problems out with me instead of me doing everything alone. One day, I will put my fears aside and do something I've always wanted.
Tell me three things.
Declan
Sometimes I sabotage my happiness because I feel guilty that I get to live when I've ruined so many lives. I want to hate my mom, and I think part of me does, but I also love her and miss her. My story doesn't end with a happy ending.
Have a good day, mama. Can't wait to see you tonight.
Friday morning, I woke to yet another text from Declan, just like I have each morning since he left. Nothing like starting your day with a smile on your face after reading a text from the man you masturbated to.
Shamelessly, I came so hard on my fingers last night just by re-reading our text conversations. It's easier to be vulnerable with someone when you don't have to see their expressions and look into their eyes. The thing I love about our routine is that he never gives advice or comments on what I say. He lets me confess what I need to say and I do the same.
Sometimes, a response isn't needed. Sometimes, you just need to be heard. To share your truth.
It's easier to say what I need to say when I'm sitting comfortably behind the screen of my phone.
I wonder if that's why people feel so comfortable talking shit online.
All day at work, I checked the time, waiting for 3pm when I could rush home and get ready for my first date with Declan. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous but also incredibly anxious to experience my first ever date.
I know. How embarrassing. Twenty-one years old, and I've never been on a date before.
Unless you count the guy that took me to Denny’s, but I don’t, considering all he wanted was to get laid.
I’m new to dating, but what do you expect when you were a teen mom and haven't dated since your child was born? When I say "date," I use that word loosely because what I did in the past with men wasn't exactly dating. We hooked up.
Hit it and quit it is more like it.
I'd spend weeks talking to guys online, meet them in person, and let them fuck me the first-time meeting, then the moment they got what they wanted, they were gone, and I was blocked on all their accounts.
Whatever.
Fuck those guys .
Now that I'm older, I realize how wrong it was to be with them. They were grown men. Most of them were ten years older than me when I was fifteen.
By the time three p.m. came around, I was in a rush to get home and even ran a stop sign in the process.
My neighbor, Lucy, has a daughter the same age as Max. Lucy’s little girl goes to the same daycare. Luckily, she agreed to pick up Max after daycare since she will be babysitting her tonight. Max begged for a sleepover with Lucy's daughter, Haley, and Lucy accepted.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a nervous wreck about leaving Max alone or allowing her to stay the night at someone else’s house, but I’ve come to trust Lucy, despite being friends for a short amount of time. She never has anyone over, lives a quiet life, and since the day I moved in we’ve been texting and chatting nonstop. She reminds me so much of myself, and for once, I’ve felt comfortable enough to let my guard down and truly get to know someone well enough to make a friend.
She'd texted me to say she was taking the kids out to eat so I'd have time to prepare. I thanked her by sending her money on CashApp to cover Max's food. Like myself, Lucy is also a struggling single mother, so I wouldn't feel comfortable with her paying for my child.
The moment I rushed through the front door, I was immediately stripping off my clothes in a rush to get in the shower to scrub my body and shave. Luckily, I washed my hair yesterday, so that saved time. I wasn't about to go on my first-ever date with wet curls, and blow-drying would take too long.
Standing in front of the bathroom vanity in nothing by my birthday suit, I sway my hips to the beat of the music; Sam Cooke is turned up full-blast on my phone as I apply makeup to my round face. My blemishes and freckles disappear beneath the full-coverage foundation. The freckle on my left eyelid is covered beneath a dark, smoky eye and winged black eyeliner. With my makeup perfectly applied, I complete the look using matte dark red lipstick.
Makeup is something I wear infrequently. Never have a reason to. But damn, I must admit that it feels nice to dress up for a night.
Picking up the red bottle of lotion from my counter, courtesy of Declan, I squirt the thick white cream into my hand. After rubbing my hands together, I massage the creamy cherry vanilla-scented lotion into my brown skin, my dark eyes following the movements of my hands, looking over every naked inch of my large body.
My fingertips brush over the faint stretch marks along my breasts and down to the marks on my stomach and hips. I remember what it felt like to watch my already large body grow into something even bigger when I was pregnant. I gained weight, and new stretch marks formed. For the longest time, I hated what I would see each time I looked in the mirror.
Why couldn't I be skinny?
Why did I have to have acne as a teenager that left me with minor acne scars? They're not visible to most, but I've spent hours looking in the mirror and picking myself apart so I know exactly where they are. My pores are too large, and my skin too oily, but I'm human.
I used to spend hours scrolling social media, looking at pictures of influencers, and comparing myself to their photoshopped and over-filtered photos. For so many years, I've hated myself, but now, when I look in the mirror, all I see is a human being with scars and flaws.
I see a woman who has an imperfect body that has been through one diet after another, one workout regime after the other, one starvation diet after the other. But this body grew, created life, and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.
I see heavy breasts with dark nipples that hang lower than I'd like as a result of being large and having nourished a baby. For seven months, these breasts provided milk .
I see a woman who has been through darkness, and instead of giving in, she fights for life every day. The brown-eyed woman looking back at me may not be perfect. She may not be a model or be close to perfection, but she is beautiful and is worthy of great things.
She is worthy of love.
I am worthy of love.
Blinking back the tears in my eyes, I reach for the blue velvet dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door and carefully pull it over my body, smoothing the material with my hands as I stare at myself in the full-length bedroom mirror.
The ruffled material smooths away any signs of cellulite and the lines of my belly roll.
Holy fuck. When I die, bury me in this dress.
The dress is form-fitting yet loose enough to not stick to my skin and expose my imperfections. The neckline is low enough that it reveals a tease of cleavage but not enough to be too revealing or inappropriate for a dinner date, while the sleeves of the dress are long enough to cover my shoulders and the parts of my arms that I hate, going all the way down to my wrists.
Initially, I had worried the material would be too hot for the Nevada summer heat, but surprisingly, I'm comfortable. Besides, being warm isn't enough to get me out of this dress. Not when I look the way I do.
Never in my life have I felt more beautiful than I do right now. My confidence is at an all-time high, and I can't wait to see the look on Declan's face.
As time races by, quickly approaching five p.m., I complete the finishing touches to my look by spraying perfume on myself, fluffing my second-day curls, and adding a pair of cubic zirconia earrings I found on sale at Walmart one day while I was shopping there in Mesquite.
Yup, that's another telling sign of how small Loganville really is. The closest Walmart is thirty minutes away .
My phone pings, and I quickly check the time and the message.
Lucy
I'm coming over with Max to get her pajamas.
With a smile, I unlock and open the front door just in time to see Lucy's door open across from mine. Then my daughter comes rushing toward me, her arms outstretched. "Mommy!" I bend down just as she collides with me.
I scoop her into my arms, hugging her close, inhaling the scent of her strawberry shampoo. "Hi, baby girl. I missed you so much."
Lucy steps out, and she’s wearing her typical attire of cut-off jean shorts and a white tank top. Her blonde hair is piled high on her head, her smile wide, revealing a bright, white smile, "Wow, girl. You look good!" she compliments, and I blush.
Lucy is a knockout. She's petite—several inches shorter than me—but she's got long model legs that are perfectly toned. She is stunning, and for a moment, I hope Declan doesn't see her because she is precisely the type of woman I have seen him with online.
I hate myself for having that thought. He will be here to take me out on a date. If he weren't interested, he wouldn't be coming.
But he's not the one that asked for the date. I am. Oh, fuck. What if he only went out with me because I asked him to, and he felt he couldn't say no?
Great. Look at me. Wearing the most beautiful dress, and now feeling like shit because I'm allowing my fears to get the best of me.
"That man is going to be so lucky! Wow, you are beautiful." Lucy continues feeding me compliments, unaware that I want to smack her for being the type of woman that Declan would be interested in.
How sad is that? All she's doing is being polite, and I'm mentally assaulting her. What a shitty person I am.
"You look pretty, mommy." Max smiles, kissing my cheek. Lucy steps out of her apartment and walks toward us, black flip-flops slapping against the heels of her feet as she walks.
"Thank you, baby." I nuzzle Max, holding my sweet baby tighter before putting her down on her feet. "Come in. I'll grab her overnight bag."
Lucy steps inside, standing in the doorway to keep an eye on her apartment where Haley is.
"Go pick out your pajamas, baby," I say, and Max nods before running off to her room.
"Do you know where y'all are going?" Lucy asks, her Southern accent thick in her words. She moved here from North Carolina six years ago to be with Haley's dad. After she gave birth, he left town, and they haven't seen him since. Lucy is only three years older than me, and unlike myself, who has lived here my entire life, she's active in the community. She's friendly with everyone, but from what she's told me, she's lonely, and I'm her only friend.
I’ve known Lucy since Max was a baby. We attended the same free mommy and me class at the local community center every Thursday. We’d share pieces of our life and bonded over being new young mothers, but our friendship never went beyond that. Sure, we’d chat each time we spotted each other around town, but it wasn’t until Max and I moved next door that our friendship was kicked into high gear. I’d been struggling to carry all my shopping bags to the third floor while carrying a sleeping Max, who fell asleep in the car and refused to wake up, so she and Haley helped carry my bags. We got to talking, discovered our girls were friends at daycare, and we've been becoming best friends ever since. Lucy considers it fate that I moved in across from her, and maybe it is. Maybe the universe knew we both needed someone to share the crazy journey of motherhood with.
My first week living here, she invited me over for a glass of boxed wine after the girls were asleep. We spent hours sitting on her balcony sharing our stories and trauma bonding. We’re more alike than I realized, and I think that’s what draws me to her so much.
I'm twenty-one years old, and I just got my first friend. How sad is that?
First friend. First date. I'm really on a roll lately. Go me.
"Nope," I admit. "Well, I think we're going to Vegas, but I'm not positive. I know he mentioned sushi, and there are no sushi restaurants in Mesquite."
"Get it, girl." She winks. "You deserve it."
"I'm nervous as fuck," I confess, placing a hand on my stomach that has been full of fluttering nerves all day long.
"Don't be! You look hot as fuck, and he's lucky to have your company tonight. Don't worry about Max. She'll be fine." She steps closer to me and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, "Stay out late. Let him take you to pound town and enjoy yourself." I return her hug, needing the warmth of her embrace.
God, it feels good to have a friend.
Pulling apart, I give her a smile. "You're right. I got this. It'll be great," I say, trying my hardest to believe my words.
"I'm going to go get Max ready. Be right back." Lucy slaps my ass as I walk away, and when I look over my shoulder at her, she winks, making me laugh.
Once I have Max's pink backpack packed with pajamas, her toothbrush, and her favorite pink blanket she sleeps with every night, I hold her hand as I follow her into the living room, where Lucy still stands in the open doorway.
Guilt creeps in, keeping me rooted in place. “Maybe I should call and cancel. I don’t feel right about leaving Max. ”
Lucy takes the bag from my hand, practically prying my fingers from the straps. “No way, girl. You’re going. Max will be fine, I promise,” she assures me, but it doesn’t settle my nerves.
“I really want to stay with Haley, mommy!” Max pouts, staring at me with her wide brown eyes.
With a sigh, I lean down and give my daughter a kiss and a tight hug, "Be good, my girl. I love you and will see you tomorrow."
"I'll be so, so super-duper good, Mommy. Pinky promise!" She holds up her pinky, and I hook it with mine. Kissing her forehead, I stand, giving Lucy another thanks for agreeing to babysit her overnight.
After they leave, I shut the door and attempt to calm the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.
Here goes nothing.