The Break-Up Diet: A Memoir Read Online Free PDF Page B

that's real funny.” Josh rolled his eyes. He pulled the notebook off the desk and scanned the handwritten list of subjects. “Mom, I want Kevin to teach me the pre-algebra. Can I ask him when he gets here?”
    A knot instantly tightened in my chest. “I don't think so, sweetie.”
    “Why? Do you think he won't want to?”
    I knew it would come up this week, but I still hadn't prepared what to say. I stood up from the desk chair and motioned for Josh to sit beside me on the edge of the bed.
    “You know Kevin has been staying at the company apartment because the drive is so far…”
    Josh nodded.
    “Well, he won't be coming home on his days off anymore. He wants to live there all the time now.”
    I bowed my head slightly, hoping Josh wouldn't notice the tears welling in my eyes.
    “So, we're moving to Los Angeles with him?” Josh's voice sounded both hopeful and confused.
    “No, honey. Kevin and I aren't going to be in a relationship anymore.” My tears spilled over.
    Josh leaned to wrap his arms around my shoulders in an awkward hug. “It's okay, Mom.” He squeezed a little harder. “It's okay if it's you and me again. We don't need him anyway.”
    I knew his dismissive comment came from his deep loyalty to me. And maybe a desire to mask his own disappointment. Josh liked Kevin, so much that he had even tried to learn to play golf, though I knew he'd rather play baseball. They were both people-pleasers whose quiet emotions ran deep.
    I started to say something to draw Josh into a conversation about it, but the stony look on his face made me swallow the words. I silently welcomed his simple statement of closure because if I didn't have to talk about it, he wouldn't discover how weak I really felt.
    When Josh left my bedroom, I opened a blank journaling template and began to type. The thoughts poured onto the screen.
    How could I possibly go on without Kevin? The end of my Cinderella story left me holding a handful of frog piss. And what the hell was I thinking when I pulled Josh out of school? I'm a moron. How could I possibly teach him anything of value? Maybe I should just embrace the Orange County stereotype: get a boob job, a lobotomy, and hunt for a rich husband—
    My cell phone rang “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead”—it could be Valerie, Bonita, Heather, Jaimee, or Chelle—one of the gal pals in my witch posse. I took a break from my diary rant and answered the call.
    “So, how are you holding up?” I could hear Valerie's nails tapping a rapid staccato on the keys of her adding machine.
    I looked beside my computer monitor at the empty jar of fudge topping, a sticky spoon handle leaning against the inside rim.
    “Fine, I guess. Just had lunch and I'm writing in my journal about you.”
    “Oh, really? So, what does it say?” she asked.
    I read the page-long entry to her. She laughed through it—right up until the part about the boob job and the lobotomy.
    “Hey, no fair taking shots at me when I'm not around to defend myself.” Valerie pretended to be angry, then her tone quickly changed. “That was some funny shit though. You should make that into a book.”
    “You think so?” Everything I'd tried to write lately sounded like crap.
    “Either that or go get a real job,” Valerie took her jab to counter the boob smack.
    Ever since college, we playfully boxed. Now, in the real world, she was an investment analyst. And as an English major, I was highly qualified to suggest an order of french fries and the opportunity to supersize it.
    “Seriously, do you think it would make a good book?” I asked.
    “I think you are the only person I know who can make misery funny. I'd buy it.”
    “Well, maybe I will…” I leaned back in my chair and chewed the inside of my lower lip.
    “So, what's the deal with the homeschool thing? Are you really planning to do it? Who's going to teach Josh math? You suck at math.”
    The call-waiting function on my phone beeped.
    “Hang on a sec,” I said.
    I