“How selfish of them,” she chuckles, not knowing the half of it. “Well, at least you have something good to look at while they’re making your life a misery.”
“I’d rather watch paint dry,” I moan. It’s a half-truth, I tell myself. A person’s external appearance is only their packaging. What’s in their heart and mind is what’s important, and the Carltons are severely lacking in that regard. “Seriously, how am I going to stay here with people fucking on my bed as a sport?”
“You’ll show them that Cora isn’t a pushover,” she says. “Or you’re going to find somewhere else to live. You know you’re always welcome to stay here for a little while. I can’t promise it’ll be quiet or without drama. There are so many people in this house. It feels more like a bus station than a home sometimes.”
“You’re so sweet,” I say, “But it’s too far for me to travel every day. Before I moved in here, I went through just about every alternative option to taking up residence in the Carlton house, and I couldn’t think of anything. My aim was to stay here for a few months and save up enough that I can move out on my own.”
“That sounds prudent.”
“But now I’m stuck wasting my time washing sheets that should be clean and hunting for my clean clothes in the trash.”
“They didn’t.”
“They did, the fuckers. And they keep walking around naked, pretending I’m not there to see…”
“…see what?”
I blush, which is a ridiculous and infuriating reaction. “See things that would make your eyes water, Maggie.”
She giggles, but there’s nothing sweet or tinkling about it. It’s a dark and knowing kind of sound that immediately makes my mind drift to the eleven men my friend gets to sleep with on the regular and imagine what they’ve got packing in their pants. Damn. I don’t need to be going there.
“I doubt there is anything about men that would make my eyes water,” she says. “But babe, this is war. You cannot play fair. You know that. Fight fire with fire.”
We both dissolve into giggles, and for the first time since Mom told me she was moving, I feel a fraction of the weight on my shoulders slide away, but it’s only temporary. I wish things were different. I wish my friends were at the same stage as me, wanting to leave home and hang out. We could go to bars and clubs and mooch around markets, eat brunch, and drink prosecco. But Maggie has a kid and enough men to keep her busy for eternity, and my other besties are still studying or living with boyfriends.
I hate that this is my only option other than answering a Craigslist ad placed by a weirdo with a vacant basement filled with comics, empty pizza boxes, and jars of toenail clippings on the mantle. Shuddering at the thought, I perch on the edge of the bare mattress, wishing I could teleport my friend into this room. I’d feel so much stronger if I had her to back me up.
“Seriously, though, I need to get my ass in gear to strike back.”
“You’ve got this,” she says softly again. “All you need to do is walk around naked. They won’t be able to think of a single prank when you show them what you’ve got going on.”
“I can’t do that,” I snort; the very idea of baring my body to these men sends a shudder through me. A rumble of discussion happens in the background, and Maggie clears her throat. “The guys all agree with me. Nakedness would win the war in a second.”
“Do men only ever think with the brain between their legs?”
“Pretty much. At least, if there is female nakedness involved, the penis brain overrides the one up top.” Murmurs of agreement rumble again. “See? They know what I’m saying is true. Our bodies are powerful. It’s an evolutionary perk left over from our cave days.”
I think over the truth of her statement, imagining how powerful Maggie’s body must be to keep eleven men fixated and loyal. Do I have the same power?
Maybe. I’ve never looked at my body in that way before. It’s not perfect, but it’s strong and healthy, and womanly. It might be a little too curvy, but I like my food, and my body likes holding onto a little more protective wrapping.
I remember reading an explanation about why women naturally store more fat. Another evolutionary perk is that it means we’ll last longer if there’s a food shortage. Our role in feeding and nurturing the next generation makes us this way. Who am I to fight thousands of years of complex biology? Or the pull of another
“Are you guys okay?” I ask eventually, realizing that I’ve monopolized our whole conversation with my sorry story. “I can’t wait to cuddle Dale again. He must have grown so much.”