Graveyard Child

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If he had shouted, it would have been better.

“You don’t look fat,” he said, the words almost uninflected. “You look pregnant.”

He stood in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame. The beautiful boy she’d met back in Florida was gone, and this ghost was in his place. The dark hair looked dry now. Dusty. The darkness under his eyes seemed permanent. Carla looked down at her belly, sick with shame not only on her own behalf but for what she had done to Jay. If she hadn’t given in, they would still be flirting together, going off to Disney for the day with the young singles group or driving to Daytona Beach with her cousins. He was a man. It had been her job to be modest. To make sure things didn’t go too far.

She’d failed.

“I just thought . . .” she began, and then the tears started and she choked a little.

“Sweetie, the reason the one with ruffles has all those ruffles? It’s in order to make you look like you’re just fat. The people who make wedding dresses aren’t stupid. They know how to hide what needs to get hidden,” he said. He sighed. “And so do I, right?”

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