Big Chicas Don't Cry(50)

I knew she was talking about Mari. I didn’t want to believe it was too late for us either. But I also didn’t know how to fix this. At least, not today I didn’t.

So, I promised her I’d reach out to Mari, and that made her smile.

I must have still been scowling when I went back outside to the patio because my mother asked me what was wrong. When I told her, she just shrugged.

“I don’t understand why you concern yourself so much with what your cousin does or doesn’t do.”

“Because it’s not right, Mom. She hasn’t been a part of this family for a long time, and I’m tired of someone not calling her on it.”

“But why do we have to, as you say, ‘call her on it’? You aren’t little girls anymore. Your choices are your own. We can’t force Mari to be part of this family if she doesn’t want to be.”

I wanted to say more about Mari and my worries about Welita. But it wasn’t the time or the place. Instead, I made my rounds and greeted all my tíos and tías with a kiss on a cheek and a “Happy Easter.”

“How’s the paper, Erica?” Tío Ricardo asked after giving me a hug.

“It’s pretty good,” I answered. “Where’s Tía Espy?”

“She’s in the backyard. She’s trying to get Araceli to come inside and eat.”

I smiled. It touched my heart to see my tío so happy and healthy. He hadn’t always been. And of everyone in the family, Mari had hurt him the most. I never understood why she hated Tío Ricardo so much. My own dad and I butted heads every so often, but I still respected him. I still talked to him.

Mari, on the other hand, had turned her back on her dad a long time ago.

Even more irritation bubbled inside, and I didn’t want my tío to see it. “Okay, well, I better go get some food before it’s all gone.”

Jesus, why was I in such a bad mood today?

I could’ve blamed it on the cloudy gray skies. But it was probably more because I was the idiot who’d started Weight Watchers and a Pilates program right before a holiday.

Gracie had practically begged me to join with her. Her sister would have joined the program, too, but we all knew there was no need for Selena to lose an ounce. So, although I was in decent shape because of soccer, it wouldn’t hurt for me to tone up in certain places. Plus, I wasn’t the healthiest of eaters—or drinkers.

But dumb me should’ve convinced her to wait until after our Easter potluck.

I longingly ogled the containers of homemade macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, rice, and fried chicken. Then with a very sad sigh, I served myself green salad, steamed broccoli, and two slices of ham.

After I dropped into a chair next to Gracie, I could tell she was just as miserable as I was. She kept pushing around her broccoli, probably silently willing it to turn into a cheeseburger. I smiled. I didn’t want to be the only one suffering on the day of Jesus’s resurrection.

“All I’m saying is that if I don’t lose like fifteen pounds by next month, then I’m going to drive to East LA and eat me one of those huge burritos from El Tepeyac, and I’m not even going to regret it,” I told her.

“Erica, even if you were following the program perfectly—which I know you aren’t—it would be physically impossible for you to lose that much weight in just one month. Maybe, at the most, you might lose three or four pounds.” She stuffed the broccoli in her mouth and crunched away.

Just like with everything else we did together, Gracie decided that she knew more about Weight Watchers than me. She was real committed, too, calling me every day to tell me what she hadn’t eaten. I almost fell on the floor yesterday when she told me she had asked Selena to help her buy some new clothes once she hit her 20 percent goal.

Gracie wanting fashion advice from Selena? Hell had definitely frozen over. Or someone had a crush on that new PE teacher at her school.

At our first official weigh-in, Gracie had lost 6 pounds. I’d lost 1.8 (but I told my mom it was 2, because if I had peed right before, it would have been). I explained to our meeting leader that I was also doing Pilates, so I’d probably gained some muscle. Eileen—that was her name—just smiled at me and handed me back my little weight record book. During the meeting, Eileen gave Gracie a gold star for losing at least five pounds. All I got was an “I hope I see less of you next week, honey.” Grrr.

I later told Gracie that I wanted to find a meeting with a different leader because I didn’t think Eileen “got” me. The lady had lost twenty pounds twenty years ago and was as thin as a rail.

“How in the hell is that flaca going to inspire us to lose weight?” I asked.

Gracie told me we had to give it some time, and if I still didn’t like her, then we could switch meeting days. I was already thinking of skipping the meetings altogether and just doing it online. I didn’t need Eileen or anyone else pointing out if I’d gained a pound or two or not. That’s what my abuela and mother were for.

“I’m stuffed!” proclaimed Selena, who was sitting on my left side. She pushed her plate away from her, and I fought the urge to grab it and lap up the bits and pieces she’d left behind. Easter was probably Selena’s favorite food holiday because in our family it was potluck-style and most of the food was traditional American, save for the beans and salsa, made especially for my abuelo and tíos.