Chapter 63 #3
“Are you talking to anyone about it?”
She made a face at Cherry. “You mean, like a marriage counselor?”
“Yeah.”
“No. That would make it real. Did you and Tom see a counselor?”
“No.” Cherry shook her head. “He was in L.A., and I was . . . done, I guess.”
“Yeah, you seemed so done at Christmas . . .”
Cherry sat back. “We’re not talking about me.”
“We should be,” Hope said. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. I assume it’s insane . . . You brought a boyfriend to Thanksgiving and your estranged husband to Christmas.”
“Oh god.” Cherry pulled her hand away to cover her face. “It’s . . . yeah. Not sane.”
“Tell me about it.”
Cherry laughed.
“No,” Hope said, “I’m serious—tell me about it.”
“Okay . . .” Cherry rubbed her eyes. “Let’s see . . . Tom is moving to L.A. And he’s taking Stevie.”
“Thank god.”
“No—I want to keep her.”
Hope looked confused. “You do?”
“She’s my dog.”
“I thought she was Tom’s dog.”
“Well, I guess she is,” Cherry said. “Because he’s taking her with him. He’s moving to California.”
“Yeah, you said that. He told me about it at Christmas. He didn’t seem enthusiastic. What about Russ?”
“Russ . . .” Cherry said.
“He seemed so great.”
“Yeah, he did seem great.”
Hope frowned. “What happened?”
Cherry shrugged. “We broke up. He, um . . . Basically—Thursday really bothered him. We went to see a movie, and the trailer started playing . . .”
“Oh no,” Hope said. “The first one?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Oh no.”
“Anyway . . . Russ didn’t really know much about Thursday when we reconnected. And I thought that was a good thing? But . . . he wasn’t prepared for . . . you know, Baby.”
“Baby,” Hope said sadly.
“Yeah.”
“That must have been such a shock for him—especially if he’d never read the comic. It’d be like finding out that you’re dating . . .”
“Garfield,” Cherry supplied.
Hope looked at her. “I was going to say Juliet.”
Cherry rolled her eyes. “Anyway . . . it was a layered thing. I don’t think Russ was ever going to get over me being fat.”
“I thought you were going to be the one to take Ozempic,” Hope said.
Cherry goggled her eyes. “Me? Why me?”
“Because you can afford it. You’ve got railroad insurance and Hollywood money. And you’re getting a divorce.”
“I don’t know how to take that . . .”
Hope poked Cherry’s arm. Right in the fatty part, the way their mom always did. “I was hoping you’d do it first and draw everyone’s
fire. Then tell me how it went.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Cherry said, rubbing her arm.
“Would you, though . . . ?”
“Would I what?”
“Would you ever take the meds?”
“Oh . . .” Cherry grimaced. “I don’t know. It feels like . . . Well, no offense, honestly, but that would feel like giving up.”
“On losing weight naturally?”
“God, no—I’ll never lose weight naturally. I meant . . . giving up on the fight, you know? The good fight to be . . . accepted,
I guess. Or to accept myself.”
“Geez, Cherry, you really are noble.”
Cherry was still thinking. “Also, I worry about what the drugs would do to my brain. Like, every time someone says that Ozempic
quiets their ‘food noise’? I shudder. It’s not food noise to me—it’s food music.”
Hope laughed.
“I’m serious,” Cherry said. “I like liking food. I like being hungry. I like wanting things—and yearning. Do you still yearn?”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever noticed my yearning,” Hope said. “Maybe I’m not a natural yearner.”
“Oh, I am.” Cherry folded her arms and leaned her shoulder into the seat, getting more comfortable. “I could yearn professionally.
I think I kind of do—all my success comes from wanting something more or something better.”
“I still like food . . .” Hope said thoughtfully.
“That’s good,” Cherry said.
“. . . but I don’t think about it very much.”
“That sounds terrible.”
Hope laughed. “For the first six months on the meds, I was too nauseated to think about anything. And for the last six months . . . Well, all I can think about is whether we can afford two mortgages and whether the kids will want to live with me or Dan. Maybe I’m not the best person to ask about Mounjaro brain.
” She smiled at Cherry, fondly—a little indulgent.
“ ‘Yearning’ . . . I always think you’re the most like me. I forget that you’re a romantic.”
Cherry wrinkled her nose but didn’t argue. She looked down at her own lap. (What there was of it.) “Tom wants to come home,”
she said.
“What? Really?”
Cherry nodded.
“Do you want him to come home?”
Cherry shook her head, but she said, “So bad.”
“So . . .”
Cherry felt a new rush of tears. She looked up at Hope. “I don’t know if I can forgive him. I don’t know how I can ever believe
him when he says that he loves me.”
“Cherry . . .” Hope tilted her head. Her voice was tender. “Whatever else is true—Tom loves you. That’s always been clear as day.”
Cherry wiped her nose on her hand. “I could say the same about Danny, you know.”
Hope had opened the compartment in the armrest and dug out another Starbucks napkin for Cherry. “Please don’t.”
Cherry blew her nose.
They both sat there sniffling for a minute or two. Cherry was wondering whether a GLP-1 agonist would make her think less
about Tom.
Finally she said—“What do you think Mom’s in there doing?”
“Texting Honny and Joy and Faith, and organizing a prayer circle.”
“Let me text her.” Cherry reached for her phone. “Hey—how’s your blood sugar now?”
“Normal,” Hope said.
“Wow,” Cherry said, instantly jealous again.
“Yeah . . . wow.”