Page 49 of Mother Pucker

“I’m notenamoredwith him,” I press before my eyes zero-in on her cup. “What are you drinking?”

Dylan hides her cup under the cardigan she’s wearing. “Nothing . . . water. Actually, it’s organic kale juice with protein powder and avocado oil mixed in.”

Evenmynose wrinkles, trying to picture that. She’s lying through her teeth, the gorgeous little pregnant weasel. “Show me.”

She hides it even further back, practically pushing the cup behind her. “No, I . . . it’ll reduce the freshness if I open the lid. You wouldn’t want me to consume anything with reduced freshness, would you, Shay?”

Delia and Liv snort, laughing as they watch us.

“Dyl.” I place my wine on the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “Is that a cherry Slurpee in there?”

“No!” she huffs, but then deflates. “Okay, fine, yes. The baby was craving it, and I just couldn’t say no.”

I shake my head, disappointed. I’m not clueless; I know Slurpees have been her craving during this pregnancy, and Cortney gets them for her whenever she wants them, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about my best friend filling her body with red dye 40.

But then I see the plea in her eyes.

Dylan doesn’t need my approval; she wants it. And the fact that my best friend feels she has to hide things from me, when she’s seen me secretly smoking toxins into my lungs and has kept her judgment at bay? That just doesn’t sit well with me. This isn’t who I want to be.

I recall the conversation I had with Rowan the other night, and it’s as if what he said–what I’ve sort of known inside my bones but have been too stubborn to acknowledge–has an alarm bell ringing inside my head.

“Don’t you ever just want to relax the rules? Eating an unhealthy meal from time to time isn’t going to hurt you; in fact, it may actually make you feel happier. And in the end, isn’t that what we all want?”

He was right. Food shouldn’t be a source of stress for anyone–not for my friends or my son, and certainly not for me. And as much as I preach about healthy eating and living, I’ve allowed it to become a stress factor in my life and the lives of the people I love.

Because, for all the control I show over myself and my loved ones, I’m actually the one letting my regiment and restraint control me to the point that I’ve lost my sense of fun. I’ve lost my inner peace.

I’ve lost myself.

I’ve been so focused on living for the future that I’ve forgotten to live in the present. I’ve forgotten the needs and wants of the people closest to me–my son and my incredible friends.

And that can’t be the way forward. That can’t be the way I live.

Not anymore.

I smile, letting a rejuvenated sense of duty flow through me. “I get it. You should have seen the number of doughnuts and candy bars I ate when I was pregnant with Kai. I remember telling Ajay one night that I was going to die if I didn’t have a doughnut for dinner.”

Dylan smiles back at me, but strangely, she’s not surprised by my change in attitude. In fact, none of my friends seem to be.

“Did he go out and get it for you?” Liv asks.

My smile wavers and I shake my head. “He was busy . . .” I look down and wiggle my toes on our yellow kitchen floors. “I never wanted to be a disruption to him, you know? I adjusted my life and my needs around his. He always had so much on his plate, from his startup, to his travels, and I didn’t want to add to the stress–”

“He was a selfish bastard,” Delia states, her eyes shooting fire. She raises her hands and drops them to her sides in her seat next to Liv and Dyl while they stare at her in horror. “There, I said it. I said it, and I won’t take it back, Shay. The man treated you like a used accessory. He wasn’t there for you when you needed him the most, even though you were there for him time and time again. Remember the day Kai was born? Remember how you asked him to take you to the hospital because your water broke, and he was on some huge video conference with Russia or some shit–”

“Canada,” I correct.

“Canada!” Her voice rises before Liv tells her to quiet down because who knows where our kids are. They’re known to listen to all things we don’t want them to. “FuckingCanada!” she hisses. “The easiest-going people in the world! He couldn’t get off the phone with them because he didn’t want to lose some deal, so he let his wife driveherselfto the hospital!” She whisper-screams the last few words. “I’m sorry, honey. As much as I hate that he died so fucking young–God rest his soul–none of us were happy that you were with him. Me even more so because he reinforced my reasons to hate men.”

Liv and Dylan keep their faces glued to Delia, and I get the sense they’re scared to even look at me while the sob that had been rising inside my chest throughout the time Delia was speaking finally emits with tears streaming down my face.

My friends hustle toward me with Delia apologizing profusely for her words. “I’m so sorry, honey. You know how Iam. My loyalty to you . . .” I hear her choke up as her arms secure me to her.

It's a rare moment of emotion from my best friend, but it has nothing to do with how much or how little she feels. She feels deeply,fiercely, when it comes to the people she cares about, and when she feels like they’ve been hurt, all that anger bubbles out with screams and tears.

I shake my head inside her arms and the arms of my other two friends. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m not even crying because of what you said. I’m . . . I guess I’m sad for the person I used to be before I met Ajay. I’m sad that she didn’t thrive; she didn’t survive. I’m sad that Kai didn’t get to meet that fun-loving girl–”

“Who smoked pot with a homeless guy on her way to a fucking biology test, and then aced the damn thing!” Delia chimes in, blubbering.

---