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r e w r i t i n g

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n o l a n

“Danielle doesn’t believe that Elvis could possi I don’t know what I believe anymore.” “Fuck this shit! I need some food,” Danielle slams the ashtray and lit cigarette on the table and stomps upstairs into the kitchen. I put out her cigarette and follow behind her with the computer in my hands. When I get to the kitchen, Danielle is gathering the ingredients for French toast. I set up the laptop on the counter diagonal from Danielle’s frying pan and we continue watching Renee. Danielle dips three pieces bread in a bowl full of egg yolks and cinnamon sugar, and then drops them in the frying pan without taking her eyes off of the screen as Renee’s husband talks about the insidious nature of her eating disorder. When her toast is done, she microwaves some bacon and organizes a bacon French toast sandwich on a paper plate. She doesn’t offer me anything, but I know where all the food is and she always tells me I can get whatever I want. In the next scene Renee tells her friend Michelle about her med-seeking visit to the doctor over cocktails (she wanted prescription water pills). When Michelle finds out that Renee is still taking over-the-counter water pills even though her doctor told her they were very dangerous, Michelle demands, “You’re going to stop the pills and the 44

laxatives!” Then she has a break down and starts crying and pleads with Renee to stop, “You’ve got to fight. Just fight.” Laughing with a mouth full of French toast, Danielle mumbles, “Michelle is a fat bitch, just like your friend Nicole.” Danielle and Nicole hate each other. They both hate everyone, yet they are polar opposites; Danielle does stuff to the world and the world does stuff to Nicole. “Well…” I say. “C’mon admit it, Twin.” Danielle always calls me twin, like I’m her mirror image. “Nicole can be a bitch,” I admit. “More than a bitch, she’s totally like Michelle. I can see her doing this,” Danielle puts her hand on my shoulders, shakes me and screams, “Yenn, you’re going to stop the pills and the laxatives now!” I giggle, “So if Nicole is Michelle, does this mean I get to be Renee?” “I guess you can be Renee this time,” she laughs shoving more French toast in her mouth. “And like I said, Nicole is a bitch. Her name should be Nicolabitch.” I can’t help but laugh even harder and the name Nicolabitch sticks. We call her that from now on.

Profile for Katya Cummins

Niche Magazine No. 1  

Niche is an online literary magazine that was designed to be limitless. It aims to provide a place where an array of voices, from experimen...

Niche Magazine No. 1  

Niche is an online literary magazine that was designed to be limitless. It aims to provide a place where an array of voices, from experimen...

Profile for nichelit
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