I was the only one who noticed Jenny’s poorly concealed black eye as she bent down to hide another Easter egg. She used to be a beauty guru with an impressive YouTube following, but Derek had long beaten the peace, joy, and love of glamour out of her. I wasn’t going to say anything to the other ladies. Jenny and I learned a long time ago, it was best to keep our failures to ourselves. Failed grades, relationships, careers—there was no need to give the others more “I told you so” ammunition.
I regretted braiding my hair into cornrows and not wearing a hat as the sun scorched my scalp, reminding me that I still choose style over functionality. Our group marched on strategically hiding eggs out of sight of eagerly waiting children that didn’t belong to any of us. It had become an unofficial tradition highly encouraged by church elders that all single women should be sent out to hide eggs and reflect on their problematic childlessness. The married women and mothers all stayed inside the air-conditioned building minding the children while occasionally peering at us outcasts.
Brenda, always the rule breaker, came outside to help us. She just happened to have an extra hat that matched my outfit. She knew how much I love yellow. I handed her a spotted orange egg, her favorite color, to hide at the foot of a tree.
Brenda feverishly talked about the woes of having to keep a five-bedroom house clean as a single housewife with a toddler and all the fun she had with her in-laws during an annual ski trip. She didn’t notice Jenny reapplying powder under her eye or that neither one of us was listening. She doesn’t care. Brenda just needs an audience besides an exhausted overworked husband and a drooly two-toothed baby. I wondered if her jaw hurt from all the talking and what kind of person enjoys being around their in-laws that much?
When she lifted her Chanel sunglasses to wipe away sweat, she revealed big black bags under her eyes. I hadn’t seen Brenda look that drained since our college days when the three of us would stay up ungodly hours to study together. She reached into my basket for two purple and pink eggs.
The all-consuming thoughts in my head deafened the chatter, making it easier to hyper-fixate on hiding. Thoughts of a new condo. Living in the luxury I deserve. Could I afford it? I’m always the odd duck. Would I fit in at my new job?
I wanted to talk about a local murder case. How the young victim looked just like me when I was her age. The killer was never found.
Brenda finds true crime to be ghastly.
Jenny never responds in the group chat whenever I mention anything in the news.
I hid two green eggs in a bed of pink flowers.
We’ve done 5k charity runs in the past. I was going to tell them about the upcoming mental health awareness 5k my therapist recommended but Jenny burst into tears. All the talking about how great Brenda’s husband was must have made her realize how awful Derek is. Brenda and I stood there looking at Jenny, our sunglasses hid expressions of pity and frustration. We both waited for the other to console her. It was Brenda’s turn. I hid three blue eggs near an old log.
I recommended therapy when Jenny told me about the domestic violence. She flippantly told me she doesn’t believe in therapy and a more well-balanced diet of fresh organic fruits and vegetables plus a consistent exercise routine is all that is needed to be mentally fit. Then she pointed out how much tighter my clothes had been fitting. Derek didn’t like thick women. A rock pile was the perfect spot for two speckled eggs.
Jenny wept.
Brenda shielded her from the other women behind us.
Jenny said what she always says.
We said what we always say.
Now was not the time to mention the change in my medication due to having an emotional breakdown at work or that I wasn’t experiencing the side-effect of weight loss like I hoped I would. I was following my dreams of moving to Austin, but the stress was making my chest tight. Now wasn’t a good time to bring any of my personal problems up. I still had two dozen eggs and I would need to keep hiding.
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