Free Slim Chance by Jackie Rose Page A

have been hers, were it not for a few handfuls of Xanax and a very fine bottle of cognac.

5
    T he morning after Thanksgiving, I swore to Bruce that I didn’t want to see our families in the same room again until the wedding. And quite possibly, not even then.
    “Your mother was a shrew,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “While you and your dad were watching football, she was lecturing my mom about the importance of buying a new dress for our engagement party. You didn’t hear her. She was cruel. Christ! Did you use the last Sweet’n Low?”
    “I’ve never tried that stuff in my life. Just use sugar. It won’t kill you.”
    “Are you trying to sabotage me?” I growled as I jealously eyed Bruce’s bagel.
    “Evie, get a grip. It’s not a reason to be upset. This is not a big deal.”
    “Oh, so you’re saying it’s okay for your mother to treat mine like she’s an embarrassment? It’s obvious she’s worried what her friends will think if my mom wears a ratty old dress. Like she’s the help, or something.” For all his intellectual wisdom, Brucehas a surprisingly limited understanding of the subtleties of class politics.
    “No, I’m saying it’s okay to use sugar instead of aspartame for once in your life. And you’re putting cream in your coffee, for God’s sake. You think a teaspoon of sugar’s going to make a difference?”
    “If you’d bought milk like you were supposed to—”
    “That’s enough, Evie,” he snapped, slamming his Harry Potter book down on the table. “I’m not going to sit here and be your punching bag. If you’re upset about last night or your diet or whatever, we can talk about it, but I’m not going to let you insult me for no reason.”
    “First of all, I’m not on a diet. It’s a lifestyle change. And as far as your mother’s concerned, if you’d been there to hear what she was saying, you wouldn’t have stood for it. I didn’t know what to do. She knows my mom can’t afford to buy fancy clothes and she was deliberately making her feel bad in front of everyone. Why do you think Claire came in to watch with you? You think she likes football? She probably had to leave the table before she said something horrible to your mother and ruined the entire dinner.”
    “Well, you did a pretty good job of that yourself when you asked Rosita to sit down and join us. You think that helps? All you did was make everyone uncomfortable as hell, especially Rosita!”
    “It’s just that dinner was already served, and there was nothing left for her to do, so I don’t understand why she has to eat alone in the kitchen when there’s plenty of room at the table for her. God, she’s been living in your house for like twenty years!”
    I could feel the tears welling up. Maybe everyone was right—I think I do freak out when I can’t eat what I want to. Because I was honestly ready to fling myself into traffic, for absolutely no reason at all. And it had only been about eighteen hours since my last piece of cake.
    Bruce sighed. “Evie, my mother just thought it would be nice to have a Thanksgiving with our families together. She’s really making an effort.” What a saint. “Both my parents want to get to know your mother and Claire better, so I don’t think it’s fair of you to try and make a big thing out of this. If she was snobby or bitchy or whatever it’s just how she is and you’re all going to have to accept it.”
    “All? All? So it’s you against us, now, is it? The upstanding Fulbrights vs. the Italo-American Clampetts? And tell me, how should I comfort my mother? She looked like she wanted to die all night. I was the one who was embarrassed. And you should be, too.” The tears were flowing now, and I was nearly hysterical, but Bruce wasn’t biting. And why should he? I was being utterly ridiculous.
    “ Puhlease! You make it sound like your mother is some poor helpless soul who can’t defend herself. She drives you crazy ninety-nine percent of the