Emmy opened her eyes, not sure where she was. She turned on the light and looked at the stash of empty food wrappers piled up like a fortress around her. She could practically hear her mom explaining to her aunt that Emmy would comfort eat when her anxiety got the better of her.
There was nothing worse than the way her mom thought she understood her. She really had no clue. And there was something so hurtful about the term ‘comfort eating.’ Emmy remembered how she’d wake up at night and hear the TV still on. Her dad would be in the living room, passed out. Beer cans would be spread out in front of him. She’d take the remote from his hand and turn off the TV. Sometimes he’d wake up and be confused about where he was. Then he’d smile at her warmly and they’d make ice cream sundaes as he told her to keep it secret.
Emmy’s mom always blamed her for the missing ice cream. But Emmy never said anything about how it had disappeared in the middle of the night, stolen spoonful after stolen spoonful. Now she wondered if her mom had ever accused her dad of comfort eating. Thinking about her messed-up parents was better than thinking about her gigantic failure as a poet.
Downstairs, she found Paige drinking the last of her green smoothie and idly thumbing through her phone.
“Morning,” Paige chirped. “Heard about your big debut last night.”
“You what? My what?”
“Jude texted me this photo.”
Paige flashed her phone at Emmy. There she was, the light over the stage making her look like an uncooked breakfast sausage.
“Oh, God,” Emmy said.
“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me.”
“It just sort of happened. I didn’t plan it.”
“Still.”
Paige seemed genuinely pissed off to have been left out.
Emmy didn’t know what to say. “Honestly, I kind of wish it hadn’t happened at all,” she finally admitted.
“Why?”
“Because it sucked, that’s why.”
There. She said what Paige wanted and needed to hear. Emmy admitted that she accepted her role as the loser of the family, that she was a horrible failure and doomed to walk in Paige’s shadow.
Paige’s face seemed calmer. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“It was terrible.”
“You should have let me help you with your outfit and hair. Spotlights can be so unforgiving. That peachy shirt really washes you out, you know. Does nothing for your complexion.” Paige analyzed the photo.
Which is worse? Emmy wondered. To be on stage with strangers gawking at me or right here in Paige’s kitchen getting her fashion advice? Tough call.
But soon Paige got bored and started talking about herself again. She told Emmy about her busy day. She was going to have to talk to her TA after seminar. And it was going to be awkward because of the big crush he had on her. Emmy tuned out about the time Paige was saying how obvious it was that he liked her because he could barely look at her in class.
Emmy wondered what it was like to have that sort of confidence. She had never in her life believed that anyone liked her, especially guys, even if they said they did. It just wasn’t the sort of thing that was believable. But she couldn’t fault Paige. After all, it was totally believable that guys would fawn all over her. She was pretty and thin. She walked well and dressed well. She was always in the centre of things, where the party was.
“So anyway, I’m probably going to the pub after class,” Paige finished.
“Cool.”
“What are you doing? Hanging out here?”
“Well, yeah. I have school work to do.”
“Don’t we all?”
Emmy nodded.
Paige put on her coat and ran her hands behind her head to pull her long luscious hair out of the collar. It bounced behind her as she walked toward the door.
“Ta!” Paige said over her shoulder.
“Bye.”
Alone with her thoughts, Emmy decided that there were two types of girls in the world. There were girls who could use their looks and charms to get ahead, and girls like Emmy.
***
Just as Emmy was finishing the dinner dishes, Paige came through the front door.
“We saved you some quinoa salad and a black-bean burger,” Uncle Frank said to her.
“I already ate.”
Of course she did, Emmy thought. She probably ate an apple at four o’clock and is still full from it.
“Emmy, get dressed. Let’s get out of here,” Paige said.
“What? Why?” Emmy was in her pink fleece pajamas and didn’t want to change.
“Just do it. Let’s go.”
Emmy set the last plate to dry in the dish rack and wiped her hands on the fancy towel that hung on the oven door. Upstairs, she put on a black outfit that was supposed to be slimming, according to Paige. Paige commanded Emmy into her bedroom, sat her down in front of the girly dresser and did her makeup. Emmy felt good having someone touch her face, even if she was afraid of the result.
When they entered the café, Paige ran up to Jude. Emmy noticed he tensed up when she kissed him on each cheek. Emmy looked down.
“Emmy, don’t let Paige turn you into her Mini Me,” Jude said.
“What?”
“That.” He made a circle in front of Emmy’s face, pointing at her lips. “It doesn’t suit you.”
Emmy wanted to disappear. If there was a trap door that led to a pit of alligators, she would choose to fall into it. Jude criticizing her hurt more than anything else.
“Hush now. She looks great,” Paige said. Emmy thought Paige seemed more loyal to the makeup than to her.
The bright red lipstick that Paige had insisted on seemed to weigh on Emmy’s lips. She licked her lips trying to get it off. She couldn’t help it. She had read somewhere that women ate an average of eight pounds of lipstick over a lifetime. That had grossed her out, but now she didn’t care.
“So anyway, last night was fun,” Jude said to Emmy.
“Was it?” Emmy asked. “I didn’t ruin it?”
“What do you mean? You got quite a few laughs.”
“They were just laughing at me.”
“Well, the rhyme scheme probably threw people off.”
“It was a sonnet. They rhyme.”
“Didn’t people stop writing those in like the eighteen hundreds or something?”
“Not in my English class.”
“So that’s not how you normally write?”
Emmy shook her head.
“Then why’d you read that one?” Jude asked.
“I don’t know. I got nervous.”
Emmy never told people stuff like that. She thought it made her seem weak. But Jude seemed to get it. He gave her a kind nod and held her gaze.
“Next time share what’s in your heart. It won’t fail because it’s obvious you have a good one.”
“You don’t know that,” Emmy said.
“Oh, but I do. Don’t think I forgot about all the times you put up with this one’s bitchy friends.” Jude glanced at Paige. “Remember how they used to hate on everyone’s taste in music, clothes . . . guys.”
“So anyway,” Paige said in an exaggerated way, glaring as though a single look of disapproval could erase the past. “There’s a group of us going to the park later. You coming, Jude?”
Emmy wondered how she’d make her exit. There was no way Paige was going to ask her to come along. It would be rude to tag along without being welcome. But it’d also be rude to just leave.
“Who’s going?” Jude asked.
Paige listed off a bunch of names. Emmy watched her cousin, admiring her skill in the art of getting people to do things they didn’t want to do. She ended with a smile and told Jude, “Everyone wants to see you.”
“What the hell. Why not?” Jude said. Then he turned to Emmy. “You’re going, right?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.” He smirked.
She decided that she would let them all off the hook by coming up with an excuse. Jude didn’t need some high school girl cramping his style.
“Uh . . .”
“Of course you’re coming,” Jude said.
Emmy couldn’t refuse him. “I guess I am.”