I Love You, My Neighbour

Chapter 5: Like a Voyeur

KRISTY

"How's the diet going, darling?" Mum asks within minutes of my arrival at the house she and Dad have lived in for the past two years.

According to my bathroom scales, I've actually lost three kilos. When I stepped on them this morning, I'd been so excited by the new number that I jumped in joy, tipped the scales, and nearly fell on my butt.

After recovering from my near fall, I put on my favourite clingy purple and silver top. Judging from my mother's disapproving expression, I'm not quite ready to pull off such a close-fitting clothing.

Right now, I feel every bit as fat and frumpy as I did as a teenager. My mother is 5'2", blonde, with delicate features and a petite frame. Next to her, I feel huge. And once I met Jess, who is tall and gorgeous, I felt like the odd one out whenever I was in the same room as them. Hearing my mum chastise me for eating too much sugar and carbs didn't help either. Her constant "warnings" to take care of my health grated on my nerves constantly as I grew up. I religiously weighed myself when I was a teenager to remind myself I wasn't overweight.

"I thought that mutt of yours was supposed to be helping you exercise," Dad says, sliding his glasses down his nose so he can peer at me over the top of them.

"The weight is coming off," I tell both of them. "And his name is Cricket, not 'that mutt'."

Sometimes I refer to my dog as a mangy mutt, but I hate it when my parents call him a mutt. And I hate it even more tonight, now that my relationship with my dog has improved - thanks in large part to Logan and his advice. Every day since I took him a peace-offering, Logan chats with me about Cricket, and he is coaching me on how to interact with my dog.

Yes, my dog still runs away from me just to see Logan. My dog still ignores me a lot of the time, but there are moments when he doesn't - moments where it feels like we have a breakthrough. I even wanted to bring Cricket with me to Mum and Dad's tonight, since he's already been on his own at home while I worked at the café all day. Even though I returned home to check in on him after my shift, I didn't want to leave him alone again. My parents, however, both said no when I asked to bring him.

"What's for dinner?" I ask Mum, hoping to change the subject from my weight and my dog.

"Grilled fish and salad. I think I've kept the calorie count low since you're worried about your weight."

"That's great," I tell her, forcing a smile.

I'm starving after being on my feet all day. I've cut down on lunches and leftovers from the café. Consequently, my stomach is empty and I don't think fish and salad will cut it.

Looks like I might be making a McDonald's run on the way home. My mouth is already watering at the thought of a Big Mac.

"And come help me in the kitchen," Mum orders.

I leave Dad reading his newspaper at the dining table and follow Mum into her spacious kitchen. It has everything a chef needs. That's one thing I do share with my parents - a love of preparing good food. But not baking. That is strictly my department. My parents liked to have fancy dinner parties when I was young, and Mum would create these elaborate and beautiful dishes. It might have been the only time I saw my Mum as a creative person.

"How are things at the café?" Mum asks after I ask her about her job as a student advisor at Blake University.

As usual, her question has a thread of contempt woven through it. My job has been a sore spot between us since I graduated. Mum and Dad have never approved of it being my full-time job. They were fine with me working there while I studied, but when I graduated, they wanted to see me taking over the corporate world - something I had and still have zero interest in.