But I remembered it all.
And I thought about Dottie all the time. Because she saw me… before I remembered how to see myself.
In the days that followed, I started emailing old friends. I searched for prenatal clinics with the best reviews — where I wouldn’t feel like a burden. I took more walks, forcing myself into movement.
He never said Dottie’s name again.
“It’s all for you, babies,” I said to my stomach. I moved slower, sure, but I still moved.
And of course, Briggs didn’t notice.
Or maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he thought I’d always be too tired to leave.
One morning, after he slammed the door on his way out, I grabbed my keys. I drove until I saw it — the same foggy-windowed diner with the red door and chipped paint.
I moved slower, sure, but I still moved.
Dottie was behind the counter. Her face lit up when she saw me.
“You came back,” she said, removing her apron. “Sit down, sweetheart. I’m taking my break.”
She brought hot chocolate first, then a plate of fries, and then a thick slice of pecan pie.
“These are all the things I’ve been craving,” I smiled.
“Sit down, sweetheart. I’m taking my break.”
“Honey, I know. I’ve had my fair share of this life… and I’ve had my fair share of cravings. The cravings are universal, trust me.”
“I keep thinking… maybe he’ll change,” I said, looking down at my hands.
“You can’t build a life on maybe,” Dottie said softly, shaking her head. “Not with a baby on the way.”
“Babies,” I corrected her. “Twins. Girls.”
“I keep thinking he’ll change.”
She reached across the table, and my eyes stung at her touch.
“You want your girls to know what love looks like? Show them by how you let yourself be treated.”
I let the words sit with me. I let them soak into the part of me still afraid to want more.
“You don’t need a perfect man,” she said gently. “You need peace. You need softness. You need a home that feels safe. And until you find that, it’s better to walk alone.”
I let the words sit with me.
I nodded. This was a promise to myself that I hadn’t made in a long time.
When I stood to leave, Dottie walked me to the door and pressed a small paper bag into my hand.
“Refill on the fries,” she said with a wink. “And a warm place, if you ever need one. My number is in there, too. Call me anytime, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Dottie.”
“For what?”
“Call me anytime, sweetheart.”
“For seeing me.”
She smiled at me with more warmth than I’d felt in years.
Outside, the cold hit my cheeks, and I didn’t flinch.
I sat in my car and opened my phone. Booked a prenatal appointment for Friday. Rideshare confirmed.
“For seeing me.”
Then I texted Briggs:
“You will not shame me for eating again. Ever. I’m going to move back home to my sister. I can’t focus on my own health and my pregnancy if you’re around.”
My hand went to my belly.
“Mia. Maya,” I whispered. “We’re done shrinking.”
“I’m going to move back home to my sister.”
