Page 21 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

The way she’d buckled down and gotten to work the last few days was admirable. “It won’t set you back at the other apartments?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have an appointment for a tour until eleven, so I’m yours until then.”

A strange silvery feeling filled my chest at those words, and I found myself searching for a reason to keep her around. I wanted to know her better, understand what this strange draw was all about.

“If you wanted to make copies for me, that would be a huge help,” I said, even though I definitely could have made time to do them myself.

“Of course,” she replied. “Let me know what needs copied.”

I passed her a stack of papers to copy and then sort in the filing cabinets. (James Crenshaw was nothing if not old-fashioned.)

We both got to work, me filling out the lengthy incident report and her moving between the copier and the cabinets. For a while, we worked in tandem—well, she did. I couldn’t seem to focus with her delicate, wildflower smell filling the trailer. So I gave up.

“Any plans for the weekend?” I asked, using one of the questions I’d practiced as a kid.

She paused, and I immediately regretted the intrusion.

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s none of my business.” I focused on the report again, forcing myself to read each letter.Cause of incident.

“I have a date tonight,” she said.

I looked up, finding her standing against the printer table. She nibbled on the side of her full bottom lip, and my eyes drifted from there to her wide brown eyes.

“Yeah?” My voice sounded rough, even to me.

She nodded. “Another one of my grandma’s setups.”

That fact made breathing only slightly easier. “Ah.”

“Yep. But he seemed nice enough.”

Even I knew she deserved more than “nice enough.” But if I wasn’t willing or able to give it to her, what more was there to say? “I hope you have a good time.” Lies. Right through my clenched teeth.

“Thanks,” she said. And then the sound of the copier resumed. But it had nothing on the thoughts raging in my head.

11

Henrietta

Confession: I had no idea how I’d react to this kind of guy until I encountered him in real life...

“You look beautiful,”my mom said when I walked into the living room in my new shimmery green dress. I hadn’t been sure about the way it showed off my cleavage and barely skimmed my knees, but Mom and Grandma both assured me I looked beautiful in the store.

Now, with my hair done up and my makeup on, I looked for my dad’s approval. His lips stretched to a sweet smile, and he stood, taking me in a hug. “You look beautiful, baby girl. But please,” he whispered in my hair, “wear a jacket with that dress.”

I let out a laugh as I pulled back. “I’m not so little anymore.”

“You’ll always be my little girl,” he supplied.

A knock sounded on the door, breaking up our moment. Grandma shot me a thumbs-up, and Mom shooed me toward the entrance. With my heart beating quickly, I opened the door to see Houston holding a gaudy bouquet to match the silver shirt he wore with the top showing off ungodly amounts of chest hair.

From behind me, Mom said, “We’ll take those flowers and put them in a vase, honey. That was so kind of you, Houston.”

I nodded, snapping out of my stupor as Mom reached past me for the flowers.

“Thank you, Houston,” I said, his name sounding strange on my lips.

As Houston and I said goodbye, I realized I couldn’t wait for the day when I had my own house and wouldn’t have the whole family looking over my shoulder and peeking through the curtains at me.

---