Southern Belle

Ch. 2 eHarmony Dinner

Kill. Me. Now.

Please.

I'm begging you.

After coming home from an five-hour shift at the restaurant, I had planned to take a long bubble bath and to stuff my face with chocolate. However, my mother ruined my plans when she told me the husband of my third cousin, Paul, and my Grandfather was coming over for dinner. Supposedly Grandfather and Paul were drinking buddies.

My Grandfather spent most of life drinking and yelling. His favorite pastimes were hitting on the old women during Bingo night, burping every five seconds, and pulling out clumps of food from his teeth; he never trimmed his beard, and his clothes always smelled like urine. Paul constantly made comments about my 'developing' body, which was quite disturbing because we were related (only by marriage, but it was still creepy).

"My, my, my, Belle, you surely are becoming quite the young lady." Paul's eyes roamed my body, making me blush slightly. Damn cheeks—they always burned whenever I was forced into an awkward situation.

"Yeah. I'm eighteen," I mumbled. Using my right hand, I grabbed a random fork off of the table and shoved a huge piece of potato down my throat. 

Paul nodded and took a huge chug out of his beer bottle. A large burp escaped his mouth, causing my nose to wrinkle in disgust.

"You know who's a hot mama?" my Grandfather slurred as he tried smashing his potato into pieces. He wasn't successful though since the potato kept rolling around. "That  Maya Turnsway."

I rolled my eyes. 

"Grandpa, Maya Turnsway is dead. In fact, she died seven years ago. I guess you're always too drunk to remember that."

My younger brother and sister started giggling, but a death glare from my mother silenced them almost instantly. My mother also glowered at me, but I glared at her back. For at least five minutes, we just kept glaring at each other until she gave up.

My mother stood up, flattened her white apron, and put on a huge smile. Her eyes, instead of exerting warmth, shot out daggers towards me. "I'm going to go get desert. Belle, I'll need some help."

"I'm not done eating," I snapped back as I shoved a disgusting piece of dry chicken into my mouth. My eyes began to water because it tasted so bad. My hand brushed away the tears before they could cascade down my cheeks.

"Oh, I think you are."

"No, I'm not. Do you see an empty plate in my hands?"

I gingerly lifted my plate full of chicken, potatoes, green peas, and spinach into the air. My mother's lip set in a firm line as her eyes narrowed into thin slits. Trust me, her looks could kill. But tonight, I'd rather be dead than be at this dinner.

"Fine. I'll go break my back trying to carry three pies and ice cream."

"You go do that now."

When my mother left, I continued to stuff my face with food. The way I saw it was that if I was eating, I wouldn't be able talk. Therefore, I wouldn't have to socialize with anyone for the rest of the night. So, throughout the entire dinner, I kept stuffing my face with everything in sight until my cheeks swelled up to the size of tennis balls. Halfway through my plan, I realized how terrible my idea actually was. My mother's cooking tasted like dirt mixed with glass; I'd rather eat my own arm than eat her food. My arm most likely would be healthier than any concoction she mixed together on the stove.

"Oh, boy. Your daughter surely knows how to eat!" Paul chuckled as he chugged down a third beer. "That's good though. Men love girls who can eat."

"Who are you kidding, Paul?" Grandfather huffed as he tried balancing one of Mom's spoons on his nose. "No one wants a fatty for a girlfriend."