I keep staring at the door, hoping Anya will walk through any second, but it hasn’t opened since I arrived.
“Okay, everyone, it’s time for games,” Cleo announces, clapping her hands and walking towards me.
I imagine her heel snapping underneath her, or a ceiling tile dropping on her head, or a pigeon flying through the window and shitting directly on top of her sleek curls. As if she can read my thoughts, her lips twist in that familiar smirk.
“First game is guess the size of the belly,” she announces, holding up a tailor’s tape and letting it roll out. “Oh,” shesnickers, as the length cuts off less than thirty centimeters from her finger. “I don’t think this one will fit. Wait, let me try a different one.” This time, her tape unfurls from her hand and the length disappears under a nearby seat. “Still not enough! I am justsobad at this game!”
Giggles erupt around me as the words find their mark. I shift my arms to cover my stomach and sink further in my seat, desperately trying to keep the tears from falling.
The feeling is familiar, the humiliation that bubbles in my chest when Cleo and her friends would laugh when I tagged along shopping with them and couldn’t find clothes that fit. It didn’t matter that I grew into my weight as I got older, didn’t matter that I had what Nanny called ‘womanly curves’, I was bigger than my sister, and that was enough. Between Cleo’s laughter and my mother’s criticism, the cruel thoughts settled across my body like concrete, weighing me down until I flattened myself into an acceptable shape.
I want to shrink in on myself, melt into the armchair beneath me, until everyone stops looking at me.
But then, I remember the way Jackson held me in front of our mirror and worshiped my body, the way he grabbed my thick thighs and wound them around his back as he effortlessly picked me up. The man loves my body, he tells me every time he can’t let me go, when he kneels at my feet and gazes up at me with admiration.
Smudge kicks at me, reminding me that she’s in there. That my body has changed to grow my baby girl.
Rage pierces my insides, boiling through the humiliation and turning to liquid fury to match my scorching cheeks.
I’ve had more than enough of this. I love my thighs and my belly that’s expanding to grow my baby. I’ve always lovedthe way I looked in that birthday dress and I can’t wait to wear it again. Why do I care what Cleo thinks? Why have I ever let her words dictate how I feel about myself?
I grab hold of the two armrests and brace my feet on the ground, successfully levering myself up.
I close my eyes and breathe as my stomach cramps from exertion. Shoving my shoulders back, I keep my eyes on the exit as I storm past the crowd.
Just as I’m about to reach the door, it blows open and Anya storms in, her face like thunder. Her eyes widen just slightly before I basically collapse into her arms.
“Where the hell have you been?” I ask, voice shaking. I hold tightly to her elbows as pain shoots down my spine.
Anya’s vibrating. “I knew it,” she says, gaze locking on Cleo across the room. “We were given the wrong fucking address. We spent an hour waiting in a restaurant in Clapham before we realized something was up. You weren’t answering your phone.”
“It’s in my bag,” I whisper.
Anya waves a hand. “We figured that out too, don’t worry.”
“Rosie, darling, we’ve been looking–” Pip says, peering around Anya.
“Oh my god,” a voice squeals from behind me. “It’s Cassandra!”
Suddenly our small group is swarmed by the hoard of women all vying to get a piece of Cassie.
Cassie sends me a wide eyed look. “Friends of yours?”
I shake my head mutely as she gets swallowed up by a swarm. My head is almost fuzzy and I bite back a moan.
“What do you want to do Rosie?” Anya places her hands on her hips, brown eyes glaring around the room. “I will fight all of these bitches if I have to.”
“You should probably help her.” I gesture to Cassie’s red curls that we can barely see through the crowd of raised iPhones and blow outs.
Anya nods before spinning to face the crowd. “Okay girls, back away from the celebrity. Have some self respect,please.”
Anya dives into the crowd, and I finally take a deep breath, my hand resting on my stomach.
“You okay Rosie? You look flushed,” Pip says, gently clasping my elbow.
“I’m ready to get out of here.”
“You got it, darling. Let me get your coat.” Pip leaves me and I brace my hand on the wall to my left as my back cramps.
