Chapter Twenty-One

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I stared out the window, my eyes fixated on the beautiful people walking past, on my favourite little corner of Toronto where “rich” met “hot.”

It was a Thursday after work and Laura and I were right where we’d been four months ago, when she’d confessed to being faced with a “sausage surprise.”

Only now we weren’t sitting on the patio, instead safely sheltered from the wind-chill and some evening flurries.

“Are you getting a drink?” asked Laura, as she browsed the cocktail menu.

“Actually...just staring at those people out there is giving me a shiver. I kind of want hot chocolate.” I played with my long purple scarf, tightening it slightly around my neck. It wasn’t really made for warmth, but I liked the thin and almost sheer material. Slave to fashion.

“Well surprise, you can actually afford to drink all those calories! Like what would you have said a year ago, if I predicted you’d be wearing a tight v-neck sweater, without it looking three sizes too small?”

“I would’ve asked you to bring me a manual on how to be bulimic. There’s no other way it would’ve seemed possible.” I still wasn’t free of those mild stomach rolls that most people get when they’re seated, but there had definitely been some improvements.

“How much weight have you lost in total?” she asked.

“Uhh...sixteen pounds.”

It was four pounds shy of my parents’ weight-loss goal, but it’s not like I’d been shooting for that anyway. Besides, being one pound under my best adult weight was good enough for me. And who didn’t love climbing multiple flights of stairs without hyperventilating?

More importantly, exercise was a good distraction. And a needed one, when my life was so devoid of emotion.

I ordered my hot chocolate and Laura chose an “exotically spiced cider” (or named as such so it could justify the hefty price). She crossed her arms as the waiter walked away, her gaze focused squarely on me.

“What?” I said.

“You know exactly what. As in what’s your latest status?”

I ran my fingers through the tassels of the scarf, imagining all the ways I could respond.

“Be more specific please.”

“Okay. Well are your parents still cool? They haven’t pulled a fast one?”

I smiled at the thought of my parents, and how my sister’s news had affected them so profoundly. They were in love with his family, and drooling at the prospect of hosting a giant Indian wedding.

“You know how my parents used to look at my sister? Like an object.” I held up a glass as an example. “Like a depreciating asset on the market. But now that my sister’s getting married in only NINE months?” I paused for effect while Laura gasped. “Well now they seem a lot more needy. Like they’ll miss her or something.”

“Nine months? Wow. But wait a minute, if they’re acting all needy, I assume they haven’t tried the whole website thing with you?”

I laughed. “Not only have they not tried to put me on a website, but they shut down the account and cancelled the newspaper ad. And you’ll love this next little bit. My dad said ‘Don’t worry, you have plenty of time. We can wait another year or so.’ My dad said THAT, to ME.”

“Isn’t it funny how things work out?”

I smiled. “Yeah I guess so. They’re already insanely busy planning her engagement reception. It’s happening in January, and from the sounds of it it’s going to be a big one. Like two hundred people at least, just for an engagement!”

Year of the Chick (book 1 in the "Year of the Chick" series)Where stories live. Discover now