Thinner Bones

part two

When I was younger, I lived vicariously through Disney movies. I’d spend my days dancing and harmonizing with Ariel and dressing up in large, fancy dresses with Belle. My mom would get mad at me for singing too loudly and knocking over flower vases.
"Rose! What did I tell you about the tables!" 

I remember this one night when I was seven years old. My mom’s sister -- her only sister -- came over for dinner. She helped my mother cook while my dad was miles away in his tiny cubicle, probably on his phone talking to a client. I watched The Little Mermaid as they cut carrots and onions. Chop, chop, chop. Gossip. Sebastian talking.

When they were done, my mom started the dishes while my aunt came into the living room. She plopped down on the couch; the leather moaned under her weight.

"What are you watching, Rosy?" 

"Ariel," I replied. 

"Oh, Ariel!" She shifted on the couch. "Whose your favorite princess?"

I remember giving her a very stupid look. "Her."

Ariel twisted underwater, her red hair crowning her head. She looked longingly at the surface of the water. From the inside of the kitchen, I heard the dishwasher start.

My aunts futile attempts to make conversation persisted. Whose her red friend? Why does she want to be a human? I like this song, can you turn it up?

"Rosy, why is she your favorite princess?"

"She's pretty," I said. "And she's skinny."

"Skinny?"

I turned to my burly aunt. There were three big hills covered by the fabric of her shirt. I could count one and a half chins. Her arms were the size of my upper legs.

"Yeah."

"Rosy, you're only seven years old. You shouldn't be involved in weight. Save that for when you're a big girl."

I turned to face her. I sat up straighter, so my stomach wouldn't bunch up like hers. "I don't ever wanna be a big girl. I don't wanna look like you."

"Roselyn Pearl Anderson!" My mom ran into the living room, hands on her hips. "Apologize to your aunt, right now!"

"Why?"

"No, Sara. It's fine." I watched as she stood up. The couch screamed again.

"There is nothing wrong with your aunt's weight. That was very rude of you to say that."

"Mommy you say things like that all the time!"

My mother's face flushed bright red. Aunt Jill stopped and lunged towards my mom.

"Goddammit, Sara. I told you that this was going to happen!" She pushed my mother backwards and teared up. Mom hit the wall and a photograph of her fell.

"Jill, calm down. It's fine, she's only seven. She doesn't know any better. She didn't mean to say that."

"Well when's your phase going to end? I'm so sick of this." Aunt Jill grabbed her shoes by the door and stormed outside. Mother crumpled to the floor, hands on either side of her face. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. Ariel sang in the background and the dishwasher switched gears.

"Mommy?"

She opened her arms and I sank in them. "I'm okay baby girl. Auntie Jill and I have been fighting like that for a very long time. It's okay, I'm okay."

We sat in silence. Me nuzzled up against her frail body. Her chin on top of mine. We stayed like that until the smell of burnt food woke us from our stupor.

Neither of us ate that night.