That was why I decided not to answer the next time she called.
What was the point? It wasn’t like I could be the best friend she deserved from inside this prison.
So September, the first whole month I’d gone without talking to my best friend in the four years since we met at first-year orientation, came and went.
In October, I couldn’t take just cooking and drinking all the time. Cooking really nice meals and drinking really nice wines, to be fair—I’d leveled way up from Mike’s Hard Lemonade and pizza delivery. But no matter how much fine wine and food I threw at my situation, I couldn’t escape the gut feeling that I should be doing something more with my life.
So I opened Craigslist and started applying for jobs. The pickings were slim thanks to the recession. But luckily, I didn’t really need the money. I found a part-time position at this daycare center in Lower South Providence that paid just enough to be cool with the government. They were also okay with me only having a semester of work-study hours at Mount Holyoke’s campus childcare center on my resume as proof that I could handle taking care of kids. So perfect match.
I also joined a gym and got to work exercising off all the chub I’d accumulated in college and during my summer of cooking.
By the spring, I’d lost nearly 40 pounds.
I still wasn’t a size negative zero like some of the girls I went to school with in Japan. But Mom was over the moon. She gave me all the compliments on my dramatic weight loss. She even offered to fly out to New York to go shopping with me for new clothes. “I’ll pay, and you can show me around your med school!”
After a lifetime of constant criticism, it felt amazing and new to finally have her complete approval. Too bad only the losing weight part wasn’t a lie.
With a guilty heart, I answered, “I wish I could, mom, but I can’t take any time off to shop. Med school is brutal.”
She was a lot easier than Lena to put off when prioritizing studies over visits. But she asked for my address and my new size. “If I see something cute, I’ll send it to you. One of the ladies at my church buys all her daughter’s clothes. She’s in med school over at UT, and she never has time to shop either. I want to do something like that to help you.”
Ugh. I could not have felt any guiltier as I answered, “Um, I’m still trying to go down a few sizes. I don’t want to give up on my real goal because I have cute clothes that fit.”
“Great idea!” Mom agreed. Her voice was impressed as if I’d come up with a possible solution to climate change. “Get down to your best size, and then I’ll send you new clothes, and we will start looking for a husband.”
We. I was not looking forward to dodging her matchmaking efforts. Luckily, Mom honestly believed I had another ten to twenty pounds to go before I was pretty enough to catch a man. So I’d probably be able to put those conversations off for a few more months.
I didn’t tell her guys were already starting to pay me more attention.
They looked at me differently when I walked down the street. One even flirted with me in the produce aisle and asked for my number as we picked out our tomatoes.
I turned him down, just like I’d averted my eyes when other men gave me that “how you doin’” nod. I had no idea how seriously Victor was taking those vows we’d made, but I highly doubted he’d be okay with me hooking up during my “punishment.”
Still, as I walked away from the guy who’d asked for my number, I wondered if Victor would look at me differently when he saw this version of me.
Or if he would ever show up.
More months went by, and still no Victor.
By April, nearly a year after he dropped me off at this prison, I’d learned to stop expecting him. This must be my punishment. Ten sexless years, wasting away in Rhode Island instead of getting the medical degree my parents had been so excited about a year ago.
Whatever.
I had my workouts and my cooking hobby, and my job to keep me busy. I’d also started taking excellent care of myself with the help of YouTube hair and makeup tutorials. I bought a bike, and I almost felt free as I cycled everywhere with the wind in my face. Sometimes for hours.
And sure, that feeling that I should be doing something else, something more, hadn’t gone away. It nagged at me, especially at night. And, of course, it made me sad that I was basically lying to all my friends and family about where I was and what I was doing.
