"Anabelle, you seriously have to find a new song," Rebecca chuckles.
I playfully glare at her, stopping myself from singing La La Land yet again. I contemplate over what song I should sing next.
"I've been staring at you, and I could do it all night," I recite from memory. "You're looking like an angel with that kind of body, needs a spotlight-"
"Any other song but that," Demi pipes up from the driver's seat.
"Wait, is that one of your songs too, mom?" Rebecca wonders.
I gape at her.
"You seriously don't know your own mother's songs?"
"Some of them!" She defends.
"That's crazy!" I laugh. "Well, just know that most music that I listen to and occasionally sing will be your mother's music."
"Oh, great," She mutters, causing me to giggle.
"Ain't nobody know your name, but looking like you do could be famous. I could see us making ways from the back of the club to a bed in the shade now," I sing, ignoring Demi's former protest. "Don't know who you are, but you look like a star, and everybody here be thinking who's that boy? Wanna take you home and get you all alone, and everybody here is thinking who's that boy? Oh, he got me. No, I've never seen no one like him. Damn, he's everything. Girls they want him, guys they wanna be. Who's that boy? Who's that boy?" I continue.
"Mom, please tell me you didn't write that," Rebecca pleads.
"I didn't," Demi reassures.
"But you did sing it," I interject.
Rebecca groans, burying her face in her hands. I laugh.
"What did I say about you cursing?" Demi inquires, trying to change the subject while peering at me through the rear-view mirror.
I roll my eyes.
"I so have got to unpack my CDs and make you listen to them, Rebecca," I tease.
"Are there any more like whatever you just sang?" She wonders, removing her face from her hands.
"What do you mean?" I curiously gaze at her with my eyebrows raised.
"Yeah, what do you mean, Rebecca?" Demi echoes.
Rebecca's cheeks gradually change to a pink tint. She nervously coughs.
"Well, um, kind of slutty, I guess," She stutters.
I burst out laughing as Demi gasps.
"You basically called your mom a slut" I manage to choke out between laughs.
Rebecca's cheeks flush.
"Should I be offended?" Demi wonders as I sober up my laughing.
"No," I snort.
"What's that supposed to mean?" She questions as she pulls into a parking spot.
"Who's That Boy, Neon Lights, All Night Long, You're My Only Shorty, Something That We're Not," I tick off each song on my hand. "Do I need to continue?"
I can see her blushing through the mirror.
"Was this before or after you met dad?" Rebecca asks, sending me into another fit of laughter.
"Let's just go shop," Demi mutters, a blush still lingering on her cheeks.
"You know I'm not going to drop the subject," Rebecca chimes.
"Well, you better try if you know what's good for you," Demi warns.
I snicker.
"You too little miss," She says, causing me to grow silent.
She saunters into the store with a triumphant smile while us girls trail behind her like two dogs with their tails between their legs.
"Anabelle, I can totally see you wearing this!" Rebecca exclaims, holding up a dress.
I glance over the dress. The skirt is plain black while the top is glittery. On the top of the dress is a purple triangle with a white cheetah face. It's really pretty, but I'm too ugly to wear it. I shake my head.
"I don't think it's my style," I say.
"Are you kidding? Just try it on, please," She begs.
"No."
"Why not?"
Because I'm too fat.
"Because I just don't want to."
"Mom, tell Anabelle that she would look gorgeous in this dress," Rebecca orders, gaining Demi's attention.
"Try it on for me?" Demi hopefully questions.
With a heavy sigh, I grab the hanger along with the dress from Rebecca and head to the dressing rooms. Locking the door behind me, I strip out of my dress and look in the mirror. Simply looking at my reflection causes my eyes to tear up. I hate myself. I'm so repulsive. As my vision blurs from tears that I refuse to let fall, I scramble for my purse that holds my blade. I unzip the tiny pouch lining the inside of the purse. The sharp edge of my blade grazes my fingertips. I retrieve the blade and quickly glide it across my side three times. I don't cut deep enough to draw blood, but I do scratch the skin. I decide to cut deeper when we return home. I return the blade and change into the dress that Rebecca picked out. I step out to find Demi and Rebecca searching through racks just outside of the dressing rooms.
"It's too big," I inform, causing them to look up at me.
"It's a small," Rebecca says in a flabbergasted tone.
"Well, it's too big," I repeat with a shrug.
Maybe the size got printed wrong? There is no way that a small is too large on my fat self.
"I'll go look for something in a zero," Rebecca tells us, walking away in a dazed state.
I look at Demi who appears to be on the verge of tears.
"Are you okay?" I question.
She nods with a fake smile.
"Change back into your other dress, and we'll find you something that'll fit."
I do as she says and quickly return to them.
"Find anything?" I ask.
"Nothing except for that same dress in a zero," Rebecca replies, thrusting the dress in my direction.
I take it and return to the dressing rooms to quickly change into it.
"It's still too big."
"How?"
"It just is!" I snap without meaning to.
Rolling my eyes, I decide to wait by the entrance as Demi and Rebecca purchase their items.
"Where to next?" Demi questions, as if nothing ever happened.
"Aeropostale?" Rebecca suggests.
I stay silent as we make our way to the store. I steer clear of Demi and Rebecca as I search the racks. I find a sheer panel sweater in an extra small. I try it on and return to Demi and Rebecca.
"Does this fit?" I nervously ask.
"It's a little baggy, but it fits better than the others," Rebecca observes. "What size is it?"
"Extra small," I mumble.
"We might just have to start shopping for you in the children's department," Demi says.
I nod, not believing her words for one moment. They're probably only saying the extra small looks big on me to appease me. I know that I'm hideous, and they know it, too. I change back into my dress and continue to search through the racks.
"What about these jean leggings?" I ask.
"They're cute, and they fit. What size?" Demi questions in a tone that sounds as if she isn't too fond of hearing my answer.
Why did she ask then?
"Extra small. I would have went for the triple zero, but there aren't as many options in that size," I explain.
She nods with her gaze at the floor. Am I so ugly that she can't even stand to look at me? I change out of the jean leggings and add them to my cart. Finally being done, I meet up with Rebecca and Demi at the register.
"I'm starting to regret this," I confess, looking over our three carts.
"Why?" Rebecca wonders.
"This is going to cost a fortune."
"Oh, yeah, because I'm so not like a millionaire or anything," Demi sarcastically interjects, dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulder.
I giggle.
"Well, thank you," I gratefully say to her.
She squeezes me into a side hug.
"We're not even close to being finished yet."
"What?" I stare at her as if she's grown two heads.
She laughs.
"This is only our second store. I still have to get you a phone and furniture for your room."
"I have a phone, and I can sleep on the floor," I argue.
"No offense, but your phone is probably crap, and no daughter of mine will be sleeping on the floor."
Even though this is the second time she's called me her daughter, it still feels as if a rush of butterflies take flight in my stomach. I feel loved for once. I feel as if I'm wanted. I don't even care that she practically dissed my phone, even if it is true. I bite my lower lip to try to suppress the grin that is forming.
~
"Now, are we done?" I huff after our four hour long shopping spree.
"We're done," Demi confirms.
We load as much as we can into Demi's car, deciding to have most of it shipped.
"Since most of your things won't be shipped for a few days, you can crash in the guest room, Anabelle," Demi tells me as we enter the house.
I nod to let her know I understand. We drag all of the bags into the appropriate rooms. I just leave all of my bags on the floor since I have no dresser or hangers for my closet. I then decide to do something productive by helping Rebecca put away her purchases.
"Need some help?"
"Definitely."
I chuckle. I help her fold and tuck away her clothing into her dresser and closet.
"I can see why neither Bri nor Wilmer decided to go with us," I giggle.
"Start taking notes," She jokes.
By the time we're finished putting away her clothes, Demi calls us down for dinner.
We all claim seats at the table as she dishes out plates of garden lasagna. I stare at the food, wishing it would magically disappear. I pick up my fork and cut the lasagna into tiny bites.
"I want you to eat all of that, Anabelle," Demi informs me.
I nod, knowing that it will only look more suspicious if I argue. I can always just purge the food up later. I slowly chew a bite of the lasagna. Swallowing it feels as if a brick is traveling down my esophagus. I can imagine myself gaining twenty pounds after just one bite. I force myself to finish another bite. Eventually, I shove the plate away from me.
"I really don't feel good. May I be excused?" I ask.
Demi is wearing the same torn expression as earlier. She looks disappointed. I've only known her for two days, and I've already disappointed her.
"Yeah, Anabelle."
I don't give her time to change her mind as I bolt up from my seat and into the upstairs bathroom. I lock the door, tie my hair up into a ponytail with my rubber-band, and lean over the toilet. Shoving two fingers down my throat until I gag, I purge up those two bites along with whatever else will come up. When finished, I flush the toilet and brush my teeth with the toothbrush that Demi bought me. I look at myself in the mirror and immediately see Demi's disappointed face. I splash frigid water onto my face as a wave of guilt and shame washes over me. Why am I such a screw-up? I head to my nearly empty bedroom and scour the bags for a pajamas set. I take the pajamas to the guest bedroom, quickly change into them, and toss my dirty clothes into the hamper. Releasing my hair from its ponytail, I bury myself into the cloud like bed, feeling too exhausted to even shower.
~
~
~DEMI'S POV~
~
~
"Anabelle looks just like you, mom," Rebecca says, jolting me back to reality.
Wilmer, Rebecca, and I are sitting in the living room around the television. Both Anabelle and Brianna are fast asleep.
"You think so?"
"Definitely! She even sounds like you."
A small smile forms onto my lips at the thought. A yawn slips past Rebecca's lips.
"You tired, baby?" I ask her.
She nods.
"Why don't you go get some sleep?" I suggest.
With another nod, she makes her way upstairs.
"She really does look like you, hermosa," He murmurs, stroking my hair.
"I realize that. What if she's more like me than we presume?"
"What do you mean?"
"I-I think she has an eating disorder, Wilmer."
He remains silent. I sit up to face him. His expression is unreadable.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that we will help her through anything and everything. She's our daughter now. We'll love her regardless," He replies.
Hearing him call Anabelle our daughter is the best feeling. Even though he's not her biological father, I know he'll be more of a father to her than he r biological father will ever be. I kiss him with as much passion as possible, trying to let him know how I feel without words.
"What about her real dad, Wilmer?" I whisper after a pause.
He tenses.
"What about him?"
"Does he deserve to know that I found her?"
He cups my face with his palm and caresses my cheek with his thumb. His eyes smolder into mine.
"He wanted you to have an abortion, Dems. In my opinion, he lost the right to be called her father a long time ago."
"Aren't I just as bad? I gave up my own flesh and blood."
"No, you're not just as bad. You gave her up because you felt as if it was the right thing to do. You knew you weren't in the right frame of mind to handle a baby."
"What if giving her up wasn't the right thing to do?"
He holds me against his chest, whispering soft nothings into my ear as my tears fall. Although my shoulders are violently shaking, my sobs are silent. He rubs calming circles into the small of my back. I fall asleep in his comforting arms, realizing too late that he never does answer my question. Honestly, I think he knows that I don't need the question answered, for I know the answer: everything happens for a reason.