My Replacement Husband

My Replacement Husband (5) Curbing Cravings

IT HAD BEEN A LONG DAY.

The first thing I did when I got home was kicked off my shoes, changed into my slouchy and stain-ridden pajamas, and grabbed a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream to eat in front of the TV.

My favorite thing to do was to watch cooking competitions on TV like MasterChef, Cutthroat Kitchen, or Chopped. It was ironic because I couldn't cook to save my life, but I sure could judge the hell out of it.

"Why would you put the oil in before the pan is hot, Bethany?" I grumbled to myself as if I could do any better than the short blonde from LA County on the screen. I could make a few dishes here and there, my baked lasagna was especially a hit, but I was not about to win a quarter of a million over it anytime soon.

I think I liked to watch shows the most after I started living in my own apartment. Sometimes the quiet gets too suffocating or my thoughts get too loud. The background noise eases the feelings I have of being alone most of the time at home.

It was different from Northwick, the small town in Alabama I grew up in, where I was the opposite of alone. Either my parents or Kathy were barging into my room, I don't even know what the point of having a door was if they weren't going to knock, or if I went outside I knew everyone and everything. It was noisy and lively but at the same time peaceful and cozy.

"Do you miss home?" I remembered Kathy had asked me that my first month away from Northwick. It had been a covert phone call because I was officially being blacklisted by my mother for my choice.

There was a part of me that did miss home, but that's because it was so familiar to me unlike the bustling city of New York. Nostalgia played its own role as part of the reason I almost considered moving back and transferring into the University of Alabama for school.

That was always until I remembered why I left.

The conversation was still vivid in my mind.

"It's different, I miss a lot of things in Northwick," I told her.

"Not me," she said petulantly.

I rolled my eyes. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder."

"So, does that mean you'll make up with mama then?" she asked slyly. "Julie, come on. She's sorry. I know she is, even if she won't admit it. Sometimes I see her gazing blankly at your room. She even sweeps from time to time to make sure it's clean."

"She probably doesn't want anyone to think our house is dusty then, and no matter how she's looking at the room it doesn't make what she did okay," I snapped. Our mother was always a touchy subject, but after what she had done I had been livid. "I don't want to live under mom's dictatorship anymore."

Kathy huffed. "Don't compare mama to a dictator! She was just looking out for you, Julie. You don't know how hard it was for her to let you go to New York."

I felt upset. She didn't understand because our mother adored her. Every choice Kathy made was applauded as if she had won the Nobel Prize. It wasn't like I wanted to leave, but enough was enough.

"Hey, I understand if it was hard for her, but she didn't need to be happy about it. I didn't need her to be happy with my choice." Of course, I would've wanted her to be happy about it but that wasn't my main priority to please my mother's every wish and demand.

"She didn't need to throw away my acceptance letter," I stated.

"She could have come to send me off to the airport with you, but she didn't and I was fine with that." I wish she did send me off. I wish she even looked at me before I left for God-knows how long. I was hurt too.