I continued eating dessert that felt so thick as I dumped it straight into my mouth, trying to force it down, its slightly bitter sweetness sticky as it practically slid down my dry throat, quite uncomfortably, and left me no choice but to smile up at them as I gulped it down, finally.
I tried to gleam.
I found myself pulling a smile up to my face with every swallow, tiny beads of sweat forming along my forehead, as I tried to not blink so much, as I forced the bile down my throat with a hard gulp, harshly.
They were acting as if they weren't paying attention to anything other than that sharply sweetened dessert I would usually have no issue of eating if I was by myself. It wasn't as if I wasn't eating, actually, and if I hadn't been eating then my jeans wouldn't be making such a fuss whenever I tried to put them on–they would behave rather nicely.
My hips sort of rounded and filled every piece of clothing I wore, it was so difficult for me not to be aware of it–I guess they were the only thing left after everything.
I was aware of what was no longer there, with me, I needed to be, and I was fine with it being finally gone, actually–I was okay by myself.
I didn't need to ever feel it again, unfortunately.
It hadn't been any fun for me and I was, maybe, okay finally.
"So, how's job hunting?" a softer voice touched the cold table, softly, shaking it from the stagnant grasps of the lingering silence–and unnecessarily so–as my sister spoke, tugging her shinny bob behind her ear.
I was sure I had all three sets of softened eyes on me just as soon as she brought up my job as if I wasn't aware of how they just wished for nothing more than for me to just quit my job already and get one fitting for my level of education, and maybe their peace of mind.
I just didn't like being forced as if I wasn't in favor of a better-paying job and, as I was already so aware of, I had all the attention at this point–just as always.
I lifted my head of slightly rougher spirals, which were tied tightly on top of my head, and stared at her slightly warmer brown eyes.
My lips felt so dry as I unglued them and forced the words which were too thick around my throat, right out, and very stiffly. "Um, better than I thought. I have a few interviews lined up. . .for this week."
"That's better, baby," my mother said, offering me a smile that didn't make the stiff awkwardness go away, instead it just clung on for dear life, and merciless so, and made it so hard for me to bring the spoon of pudding to my dry lips, without gagging.
I practically buried my toes into the heels I was still wearing as I forced myself to have another serving of what my stomach felt so uncomfortably full of–chocolate pudding.
"How are your shifts?" someone–my sister Kacey to be precise–said, her slightly high pitched yet sultry voice ringing tight across the table as she ushered the conversation further and really, just trapped me in–there was no way I could escape the questions at this point.
I turn my light brown eyes to her bright green ones, which were such a pretty contrast to her slightly chocolaty skin tone, and again, I parted my lips just so they could, at least, be something close to at ease–so they could breathe easy, at least.
"I'm still getting in late, I think. . .on Thursday I'll be getting in a little earlier," I said, my slightly slippery palms practically drenched in warm sweat as I pressed them right against my grass green Sunday dress that I was wrapped in, so very tightly.
"So, you'll be able to go to. . .your interviews, right?" my older sister asked, her perfect white teeth hesitantly bared to me, only just, as she offered me a trying smile.
I shrugged my brows raised. "They're all in the morning, so. . ."
"I'm sure you'll get it," she said, bringing her ringed–and slightly long yet chubby–fingers right into her shorter brownish hair, pushing her stylishly cut yet rough tendrils away from her short forehead.
I smiled at her, doing my best to shove the words right down my throat instead of out of my mouth, and dumped my spoon into the bowl that still had some pudding left–I wanted it clean.
I wanted them to stop worrying.
I wished they would just leave the conversation, but I wasn't going to be as lucky, surely.
I guess some part of me sort of wished I was not there, just some part of me. . .of course.
"Do you want me to drive you?" my older sister offered, a smile pinned against her face.
"You don't have to, I'll take the bus," I said, offering her all the smile I could gather enough energy for.
"While wearing. . .I don't think that's a good idea, no. I'll drive you," my sister enforced, her eyes staring right at me and making this so hard.
"I–"
"Your sister's right, baby," my momma said, her eyes softening as her lips spread into a small smile that practically pled with me. . .just as her eyes. "And she can come and pick you up when you're done if you like. It'll be easier that way, sweetheart."
Easier, I guess that was what they wanted to offer me–ease. It was such a pity I could never really have it and did not want it, I was over everything that had happened.
It was done.
"If you're free, then it's fine," I said, offering a smile to all three sets of pity-ridden soft eyes.
My sister smiled at me. "I'll buy you lunch after."
"As long as it's not waffles," I said, nodding. "I'm in."