I Love You More: A Novel Read Free

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    As the months passed, Mama and Daddy talked to each other less and less. They stopped kissing and even hugging. Mama had so many bad moods it seemed like they were growing together into one big one, like our neighbor Mr. Buttons’s eyebrows. She stared into the air more than she didn’t. By Thanksgiving break, Ryan Anderson still hadn’t so much as glanced in my direction, and although those All That Girls quit calling me Pee-pee Picasso, they figured out a new and better name for me: Plump Picasso.
    When I told Daddy about that name, he said my being a little plump wasn’t a bad thing at all. “Girls with a little fat on their bodies grow into shapely, attractive women. Just look at your mama.”
    “Mama was fat?”
    “Not fat, just a little plump.”
    “How do you know that?” I asked, skeptically.
    “I saw a picture of her when she was your age,” he said. “I’ll find it and show you. And look at your mama now. She’s as beautiful as the goddess of love. Her Roman name was Venus. Do you remember her Greek name?”
    “Aphrodite,” I said.
    “That’s right. Ares, the god of war, fell in love with Aphrodite the first time he saw her. Just like I did with your mama.”
    “Was Aphrodite plump when she was my age?” I asked.
    “She never was a little girl,” he said. “She emerged from the ocean a full-grown woman. The gods found her standing on a seashell. Whenever we’re at the beach and I watch your mama coming out of the water after one of her morning swims, and I see her long blond hair matted against her head and shoulders, the sun making her wet skin glisten, I swear she’s Aphrodite reincarnated.”
    When Daddy talked about Mama, his face and eyes lit up, and sometimes he said things like that about her, gushy, embarrassing things, and usually, just like he did that day, he’d end the conversation by saying, “I love you and your mama more than life itself.”
    That day I still believed him.
    I heard them laughing before I saw the bright blue convertible. The car was parked in the church parking lot at the end of our street. Since it was so pretty out, and I’d left home early enough, I decided to take the long way around to school. It wasn’t quite spring yet, but it was warm and the sun was so bright that even the saddest people couldn’t help but have minutes of happiness. So bright I couldn’t see who was sitting in the car. I shaded my eyes with my hand. Two women with longish, straight blond hairand dark sunglasses sat in the car. Both wore red blouses with matching head scarves that tied under their chins. They could’ve been twins they looked so much alike. Even though they’d changed their hair color, I was pretty sure I knew who they were.
    I crossed the street slowly, being careful not to make any noise. I was so busy watching the two of them and making sure they couldn’t see me that I didn’t notice the mess of dirt and gravel that had spilled from Mrs. Jesswein’s newest flower bed onto the road’s shoulder. My feet skidded; my heavy backpack shifted. I lost my balance. Stones shot through the air, sprayed on Mrs. Jesswein’s lawn. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, my legs splayed out in front of me, my skirt hiked up, my behind and hand stinging. I stole a look in the blue car’s direction. They hadn’t seen me; they still laughed. I gathered myself and slunk away. Like Kinsey Millhone, my all-time favorite female detective, I ducked behind some tall bushes between Mrs. Jesswein’s house and the parking lot, crouched down, and spied on them. I could see the two of them very clearly. One had a beetle-shaped mole on her cheek.
    It felt strange listening in on their conversation. The air was still; I could hear them as clear as if I was listening from my spot at the top of the stairs.
    “What’s taking her so long?” Bert asked.
    “You know Diana,” Jewels said. “She’s probably perfecting her makeup.”
    “You should talk,” Bert said.
    “I