She calls herself fat all the time. Always complaining about her stomach not being flat, her hips being too wide and her thighs being too thick. I told her just the other day. I said, “Darling, your body is sexy. There is enough to hold and love in all the right places.”
I even explained to her that some women have a good body but their face is rubbish. Other women have a pretty face but they’re too short or too tall or too thin with no breasts. She doesn’t really listen because she follows all these singers and famous social media people from her phone. She likes all their photos and she’s always trying to be like them, trying to wear what they wear, diet how they diet, say what they say. She pinches the screen of her phone, zooms into their faces and carefully observes every iota of their appearance. They seem like they live perfect lives with perfect friends and perfect bodies but I have my suspicions about the honesty of these people – they can’t really be how they seem.
Now they’ve all claimed her.
Two weeks ago Donna told me she needed to get a nose job. I looked at her and said more forcefully than I had intended to, “There is nothing wrong with your nose.”
Donna started pinching and pointing and showing me how it needed to be smaller. I told her again, “Darling, your nose is perfect. You’re perfect.”
She didn’t believe me. But it is true. For me, Donna is perfect.
Wait, sorry. I have been saying this the wrong way. Takes getting used to. Was, Donna was perfect.
I am looking at her now and I am trying to look as deep and hard as I can. I am afraid to blink because I don’t want to lose time. They’re waiting in their solemn suits. They are going to ask me any moment now to step away so they can close the coffin and wheel her out of here to the back where they will bury my Donna.
I hear sniffles. From her mother who I think, blames me. From her brother who is looking at me with stone eyes. And from her friends who haven’t stopped crying.
I haven’t cried yet. My brother Jarrod says it will come later. He has been telling people I am still in shock. Jarrod is a dumb fuck most of the time but this time around he is on point. I can feel the river gather momentum inside my chest and I think the dam will break when they take her away from me.
People are whispering. Twenty-eight. Too young. And so suddenly.
It was sudden. I should have never agreed. Or I should have done some sort of a check on the doctor. I just handed her over like she wasn’t the most important thing in my life.
I don’t like her new nose. She can’t even breathe through it.