She exhales. “I know.”
“This is a good thing, right? You have a girlfriend. She’s coming to dinner.”
I try to say it nonchalantly, but my voice seems to snag.
Cassie rolls her head toward me. “You’re pissed off that I didn’t tell you.”
“No I’m not!”
“That is such bullshit.” She smiles.
“I was surprised you didn’t tell me.”
“And pissed off. Look, I get it.” She leans into me. “I know I’m an asshole.”
“No you’re not.”
“This is just weird for me, you know? And talking about it is weird. It’s fucked up. Like, it’s so easy for me to tell you about some random hookup, because who cares? And we can laugh about it and whatever.”
“You know I’d never laugh at you about Mina, right?”
“No, I know. It’s just.” She shuts her eyes. “Like, I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a dick, but, like, maybe it’s one of those things you’re not going to understand until you get a boyfriend.”
For a moment, it just hangs there.
“Oh,” I say.
“Okay, that came out wrong, but you know what I mean.”
“Yup,” I say, standing abruptly.
I mean, it’s pretty clear. Cassie’s had a girlfriend for two days, and now she’s the expert on the wonders and mysteries of true love. Whereas I clearly understand nothing. I guess I’m some kind of naïve, sexless child.
“Molly, come on. I’m sorry, okay? I told you it came out wrong.” She sighs. “Can you give me a break? Just this once?”
Suddenly, her phone buzzes on the coffee table. A text. She picks it up.
“She’s here!”
“Grandma or Mina?”
But already, Cassie’s sprung off the couch and out the front door, running through the rain. There are only a few yards between our door and Mina’s car, but Cassie’s soaked within moments. She doesn’t seem to care. She slips into the car on the passenger side, and they lean toward each other over the gearshift.
I blush and turn away.
Patty and Grandma pull in about thirty minutes later, and then we all settle around the dining room table. And the first thing Grandma says is this: “Cassie, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was Oriental!”
“Grandma!” Cassie hisses. She shoots Patty a desperate look.
Patty winces. “Mom, you can’t say that.”
“I can’t?”
I shake my head.
“Grandma, Mina is Korean American,” Cassie says. “Okay? You can’t say Oriental.”
“Unless you’re talking about rugs,” I add.
“Well, they just keep changing the terminology on me.” She laughs. “Mina, dear, I hope you don’t take offense. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Mina definitely looks overwhelmed.
Nadine brings out this giant turkey—the kind you roast for Thanksgiving. It’s the kind they always label young turkey, which makes you wonder how epic old turkeys must be. Everything gets passed around, and I feel strangely self-conscious. I think it’s sympathetic self-consciousness. I think I feel it on behalf of Cassie. Or maybe Mina. God. Poor Mina.
“So, you live in Bethesda?” Nadine asks. “That’s a fun place.”
Mina smiles faintly. “I don’t know if I’d call it fun.”
“Mom, fun is like H Street,” Cassie says.
“Not true,” Nadine says. “Fun exists wherever you make it. Am I right, Xavor Xav?”
Xavier is currently mashing a slice of peach into his hair.
“He looks a lot like you,” Mina says, looking back and forth between Xav and Nadine.
“Aww—thanks,” Nadine says.
“Told you,” Cassie says. “He’s her mini-me.”
People notice that all the time. Xavier looks so much like Nadine, and Patty’s old pictures look exactly like Cassie. I’m the oddball. I secretly think I must look like the donor, but I’ve never seen a picture of him. Of course, Grandma always says I look like her. I don’t exactly see it, but she loves to bring it up.
And sure enough: “You know, Molly is the spitting image of me at seventeen. But, of course, I was very thin at that age.”
She loves to bring that up, too.
“I used to be a model for Macy’s department store. Can you believe it?”
“Oh, wow,” Mina says.
“And I always tell Molly: you’re a little zaftig, of course, but you have a lovely face. Isn’t she lovely?”
“Definitely,” Mina says, nodding, but Patty says, “Mom, stop it,” in this warning tone. So, Grandma makes a big show of snapping her mouth shut and winking at me.
And I think I might cry. I might actually cry. I can’t believe I’m sitting at this table, pretending things are normal while my grandmother calls me fat. Right to my face. I know what zaftig means. She’s even called me that before. But saying it in front of Cassie’s gorgeous new girlfriend makes it a million times worse.
“You know, my friend Sylvia’s granddaughter is at Columbia,” Grandma says quietly, leaning in close. “She’s a beautiful girl. Her name is Esther.”
“That’s great.”
Grandma rests a hand on my elbow. “In New York. You know, Columbia’s in Manhattan, dear. And in New York, they have this exercise program. I think it’s on the DVD. And Esther just puts it on and does it right in her dorm room.”
“Okay.”
“She just loves it.”
I nod slowly. I think every cell in my body freezes in place. I notice Cassie and Mina are listening in.
“You should think about it, mamaleh. You know. I’ll tell you what I wish someone had told me,” she says. “It gets harder and harder to lose.”
Grandma does this sometimes. Half the time she’s totally cool, and half the time she makes me want to disappear.
“When you’re young, it’s easy,” she continues. “Just be a little more careful. Leave half of everything on your plate. And you should talk to Esther! She really loves her program. You know, she lost twenty pounds?”
“Okay.”
“And now she has a boyfriend.”
Cassie swallows a chunk of turkey and drops her fork with a clatter. “Yeah, no. That’s not okay.”
My cheeks are burning. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” She raises her voice. “Grandma, stop saying this shit to Molly. You can’t. I’m sorry. You can’t talk to her like that.”
“Molly doesn’t mind, right?” Grandma says, patting my arm.
“I don’t mind,” I say.
“Yes, you do,” Cassie says quietly.
And I do. It’s seriously stupid, but I do mind. It’s just that every time Grandma says this stuff, I freeze up.
But now Nadine and Patty have caught wind of the conversation. “Mom, stop it. We’ve talked about this.”
“I’m just trying to be helpful.”
“This isn’t helpful.”
“Patricia, it’s a health issue. You know that.”
“Betty,” Nadine says, setting her fork down. She glances at Patty.
Cassie presses her foot against mine under the table, but I can barely process it. I feel hot and cold all at once. It’s hard to explain.
I mean, I know I’m fat. It’s not a secret. Kyle Donner used to whisper the word gorda in my ear every day of eighth-grade Spanish. And once, Danielle Aldred asked me if I was worried I’d crush a guy during sex. In seventh grade. She actually asked that.
So, I should be used to it. Still, it always throws me a little bit when people say stuff about my body. I guess I want to believe no one notices I’m fat. Or that I’m somehow pretty and fat all at once, like a Torrid model. I don’t know.
Anyway, Cassie’s still fuming, and Mina’s staring awkwardly at her plate, and now Patty is escorting Grandma into the living room. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I can hear snippets of Grandma’s replies. Small portions. Something to think about.