They meet for lunch at one of those all-you-can-eat places you can see from the freeway. Kayla has salad, no dressing, and a glass of water with lemon. Denise serves herself the boneless, skinless chicken and a cup of decaf. They sit by the window so they can watch the parking lot, so they're away from the crush of fat people loading up plates with heavy, greasy foods and balancing trays on one hand as they fumble for wallets and purses with the other.
Denise curls an arm around the chair next to her, scratching light pink fingernails against the wood. She settles in, the chair legs creaking.
So, she says. So, so, so.
Kayla looks up. She's been staring at the floor, listening to the conversation at the table behind her.
You look great, Denise says. No, seriously? You look incredible.
Kayla nods and tries to concentrate. The couple behind her is arguing, low and fierce. The woman's voice cracks, and there's sniffing, a pause. A zipper rips open.
Really Kay, I mean it. What do you weigh now? A hundred? Less?
I don't know. Something like that.
You must feel terrific. You must have so much energy.
Kayla shrugs. You could call it that. It's been eight months since she got out of the hospital--eight months, two boyfriends, and four sets of clothes. She remembers the day she fit a size two. She stayed up all night, watching herself in the mirror, bracelets rattling up and down her arms, all the way to her shoulder.
You have such self-control now, Denise says. If you weren't here watching, I swear, I'd eat every single one of those desserts.
Mm, Kayla says.
The man's voice is lower now, almost a whisper. One of them, probably the woman, slaps a hand against the table, her ring clanking against wood.
Yeah, Denise says. She pauses for a moment, then wipes her fingers on a paper napkin. But anyway, she says. Mark must be just falling all over you.
Kayla shrugs and nudges her lettuce to one side of the plate. I meant to tell you. Mark and I broke up.
Oh. Oh sweetie, but, but things were going so well. Oh, no. Denise's voice is loud and braying, and Kayla wishes her sister would hush for a minute. The man is saying something, making a statement.
Why? Denise asks.
Kayla looks up.
Why did you two…break up?
I don't know, Dee. Why does anyone break up? Kayla pushes the plate away and closes her eyes, fingers to her eyelids, focusing on what the couple must be fighting about. Politics, it sounds like. How is it you never change, the woman whispers. How is it you never see what's right in front of your nose?
Kayla opens her eyes. Denise is staring at her, looking concerned.
I don't know, Kayla says. I wasn't supportive enough, I guess. Something like that.
Supportive? What does he even mean, supportive? Doesn't he know that you're the one recovering from major surgery?
Kayla glances around the room. The fat people are going up for seconds, dimpled asses waggling.
Well it's his loss, Denise says. You'll find someone else. Any man would kill to be with you.
And now you're dragging your sister into this, her mom had said on the phone--as if thinness were some sort of cult. So? It could be good for her, Kayla had said, holding the phone between her cheek and shoulder, pulling up on her belt loops. Letting her pants slip up and down, rubbing against her belly. Ah yes, her mom said. Like it's been so good for you.
I've been thinking about having it too, Denise says, quietly, looking at her plate. But I want your opinion first. About the downsides.
Kayla swivels to glance at the couple behind her. The old man is studying the newspaper and his wife hunches over her food, shoveling it in. Kayla feels a strange tightening in her chest. How is it these bastards stay together so goddamn long? How do they listen to each other's yapping, year after year? How does it work? She swallows and turns back to her sister.
Denise is pressing forward. Her jaw is quivering, and she shoves a red, meaty hand against her chest and takes a deep breath. Kayla feels the gorge rising in her throat, bitterness flooding across her tongue. She takes a quick swallow of water.
I don't know, Kayla says. You should probably ask someone else.
She feels something behind her, like a sudden emptiness. She turns to look at the old couple, but they're gone.
