Chapter 6: Mickey

As someone who'd always even slept in a bra, Mickey's new freedom was instantly noticed upon her arrival home. Whipping up a four-cheese lasagna, her mom dropped her sauce ladle when she saw her daughter exit Mary Ann's car topless. She froze as Mickey casually unloaded her bike and hefted it over her shoulder.

Turning to wave, Diana DiCapra reckoned the neighbors across the street got a full-on view of her daughter's deformed breasts. Mickey locked her bike to the storm gutter and ran bouncily up the front stairs.

"Hi, guys," she boomed in her best raspy baratone. "What's for dinner?"

"Michaela! What happened to your bra?" Diana DiCapra bleated from the kitchen doorway.

"Nothing, Mom. It's right in here with my other clothes," Mickey said, holding up her workout bag.

"And you looked like that all the way home?" mama DiCapra cried.

"Like what, Mom?" Mickey said in a theatrically soft voice. "Like someone who's not ashamed of how they look?"

"Well ... yes! No!" the confused woman admitted. "Anthony, talk to your daughter!"

"How was school today?" he asked behind his newspaper.

"Great! I learned I shouldn't be ashamed of my body, Daddy!" she said. "And I realized I love my voice!"

"I do, too," he said, looking around the Business section. "I'm glad you're starting to feel that way. But your Mom has boobie issues."

"Michaela, you know your breasts should never be on public display," she insisted. "People will get the wrong idea about you."

"Is that why I'm never allowed to wear a bikini?" Mickey said, tears welling.

"Of course," her mother said with a shrug.

"Or a tank top? Or a halter top?" Mickey went on.

"You can't and you shouldn't try," Diana said. "It's just not ... appropriate for someone with your body."

"Mom! What's wrong with my body?" Mickey screamed. "I just told you that I am learning to love my body. You make it sound like I should hate it!"

"Well, you should hate it!" Mickey's mother said shockingly. "I hate it for you!" That even drew Mr. DiCapra's attention from behind the paper.

"Why?" she said in a tiny, but raspy, little girl voice, her tears flowing freely now. "Why do you hate me so much? Are you ashamed of me?"

As Anthony DiCapra watched, his wife also broke down into tears. But neither woman made a move to the other.

"It's not you, sweetheart," Diana said. "It's me. I'm ashamed that you look that way because of me."

"How is that possible?" Mickey said, angry now. "I have massive boobs. You've got next to nothing. Are you just jealous?"

"Yes, I suppose I am," Diana said, shrugging. "I'm jealous and ashamed. Ashamed because I once looked that way. Thank God my parents could afford to give me reduction surgery when I was still young."

"They did?" Anthony DiCapra said. He and his daughter exchanged a glance.

"And you made me grow up hating my boobs," Mickey said, hefting them in her hands. "But now I love them. Love them more than anything."

Except for Michael. Master, she thought.

But Mickey wasn't quite sure how to deal with her mother's mood swings, so she wisely did nothing. Her mom sobbed softly as she took her daughter in her arms and nuzzled Mickey's unencumbered breasts. After a pause, Mickey returned the embrace Diana leaned against her as if she were a comforting pillow.

"I'll get you ladies a glass of iced tea," Anthony said, putting down his paper and hurrying out of the room. A door slam moments later told them that he was "getting tea" somewhere other than the kitchen. The two women were alone to settle their issues.

"What is it, Mom?" Mickey said softly, tears running down her face as well.

"Don't you understand? I had those wonderful boobs, too. But my parents paid to completely remove them," her mother sobbed. "They left me with almost nothing!"