“Let me just tell ya,

I have sick patients of all sizes.

I have healthy patients of all sizes.

I’m not small,

but I take care of my body.

I get a checkup every six months.

I try to eat as healthy as I can,

minus chocolate because—hello—

what’s life without chocolate,

and, okay, steak off the grill

because—hello—Texas.

I don’t go to the gym,

but I contra dance, which is, well,

look it up when you get home.”

She apologizes for the other doctors,

applauds me for my daily swims,

and treats me like I’m a person,

not a problem.

I make an appointment for

a six-month checkup with Dr. V

because—hello—I like her.

A NICE MOMENT WITH MOM

“Got a minute?”

Mom asks while

standing in my bedroom doorway.

She walks in before

I can even say yes.

What now?

My body tenses up, but

I scoot my schoolbooks over

so she can sit

on my bed.

Gigi’s not about to budge, though.

This is her room

as much as it is mine.

“Dad tells me

you found a doctor you like.”

“Yeah.”

I hang my head down so

my hair drapes around my face,

a curtain to hide behind.

It’s easier to say what you think

when you don’t have to look at someone.

“I hated you dragging me

to all those doctors.”

Mom takes a deep breath and

exhales it as a sigh.

“I shouldn’t have done that.

It was a bad idea.”

“Really bad,”

I add.

“So how are the appointments

with the therapist going?

Do you think she’s helping?”

I nod.

Mom reaches over,

brushes the hair away

from my face,

gently cups my chin in one hand,

and lifts it

so we see eye to eye.

“I just want you to be okay.

That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

I thought all you’ve ever wanted

was for me to lose weight,

I think.

I won’t say it and

run the chance of

ruining the moment.

This is the kindest Mom has been since

—well—

I can’t remember when.

And it’s weird.

But nice.

ON THE RUN

Catalina is at the door,

talking so quickly and

crying so hard,

it takes several minutes for me

to understand what she’s saying.

Somehow Gigi got out of the gate.

Catalina saw her chasing

the neighborhood squirrel.

“I ran after her.

She ran faster.

Thought it was a game.

I couldn’t catch her.

I’m so sorry!”

I round up Anaïs and Dad.

Catalina recruits her family.

We divide up and

scour the neighborhood.

Catalina’s family goes door-to-door.

Anaïs checks yards.

I jump in Dad’s pickup.

With the windows down,

we coast around

block after block,

calling out Gigi’s name and

stopping to look in bushes and culverts

and check around trash cans.

Hours later,