Elizabeth’s Bio:

Elizabeth Esse Kahrs first discovered she loved writing when her high school English teacher asked the class to rewrite lead sentences to a short story they’d analyzed.

For the past eight years, she’s been a columnist for Parent and Kids/Boston. An excerpt from her novel, The Trouble in Her Mirror, appeared in the Fearless Voices section of the The Huffington Post. Her short story, “Sylvie Has Gone to the Deli,” was featured on Lit 103.3’s Fiction For The Ears. She has been published in Amarillo Bay, Static Movement, The Boston Globe, The Baby Journal, and Shine. You can read some of her work here: http://www.redroom.com/member/ElizabethEsseKahrs

A native of suburban New York, Elizabeth lives outside of Boston with her family. She is currently revising her second novel.

Nothing Left Unsaid

By Elizabeth Esse Kahrs

Lila bought Tom’s mother Mildred a fat separator for Christmas. For her birthday, she’d gotten her a pink cutting board in the shape of a pig. Now with Mother’s Day approaching, Lila struggled between two choices—digital food scale, or handheld cellulite massager.

It had all started with the books.

Six months into their marriage, Lila and Tom spent their first weekend at Mildred’s house in the country. On the surface, Mildred seemed pleasant enough, not the biggest talker, but an adequate conversationalist. If there were slights during this earlier time, Lila certainly didn’t notice them. Lila was too occupied with how she appeared to Mildred. It was all about the clothes she wore and the talk she put forth and the fact that Tom agreed that she had maintained a good impression.

But that began to change with each passing weekend that Mildred insisted they come to visit. Being in Mildred’s house was stifling, long periods of sitting in silence that felt unusual and awkward and tended to drive Lila insane. Lila would claim the need for exercise just so that she could flee the house for some crisp air and noise from the birds and leaves. And while she was out there communing with air and noise, she’d think about the fact that she and Tom had driven four hours to visit Mildred in her isolated cabin in northern Minnesota and yet, once they were there, Mildred had nothing to say. Lila would think about the pressure Mildred applied to Tom to get them up there each weekend. And she’d think about Mildred’s remote, stifled life and how ridiculous it was for her to remain mute when her opportunity to live, to engage in life, had just driven four hours to visit her sorry, stone-faced ass.

And so, the first book went out on a Monday afternoon, after Lila had scoured Amazon for the appropriate title, a title that would perfectly capture her mother-in-law’s existence in a subtle, yet highly passive aggressive way. Lila had chosen Accept No Mediocre Life. She’d added a brief note, “Thanks for having us,” before sending the book on its way.

The following weekend, the three of them went about their usual routine of meals, staring out the windows, and bed. Mildred said nothing about the book. And so that following Monday Lila was back again on Amazon in search of the perfect follow-up. She selected What to Do and Say When. Off it went.

During their next visit, Lila had to wonder if she was wasting her time. Mildred remained composed. Had Lila overestimated Mildred? Was she too dim for the game? Nevertheless, Lila searched out the next book choosing this time a more aggressive title. Nothing Left Unsaid.

It was Wednesday when Lila received Mildred’s package from Amazon. It was a book, hard cover. “From Mildred,” the card said. Lila removed the packaging to reveal the title. Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better. Lila had to laugh.

The following weekend, the two made subtle attempts at conversation. Mildred complimented Lila’s blouse. Lila complimented Mildred’s hair. The room seemed to lighten a little and Lila’s need for a walk became less urgent.

When Lila sent, Ripe—The Beauty of Growing Older, Mildred responded with, What I Learned from my Daughter-In-Law. When Lila sent, 101 Ways to Make Friends with Your Mother-In-Law, Mildred countered with a sterling silver open filigree “daughter in law” heart pendant.

The next weekend, in an uncharacteristic moment of candor, Mildred confided to Lila that she’d put on some weight. In fact, Mildred called herself fat. Lila, of course, responded with all the appropriate denials, adding that she too had put on some pounds. The two of them shook their heads and sighed before going back to their usual routine. But it had been enough—enough for Lila to take a chance.

That Monday on Amazon, Lila keyed in the search word “fat.” It didn’t take her long to find it, the perfect gift for Mildred—a giant, stuffed, fluffy, white fat cell. The thing even had a face. Lila paid by PayPal and off it went.

A day later, a box from Mildred arrived. Their packages must have crossed in the mail. Lila opened the note. “Love, Mildred,” is all it said. She unwrapped the item and burst out laughing.

Mildred had sent her the fat cell.

***