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I
She’s six. It’s Archie’s sixth birthday party, one of her memories that are not tucked so deep that it’s blurred around the edges. She has spent the afternoon with Jughead and Archie, her best friends, playing pin the tail on the donkey and hide and go seek. She’s happy. Presents are opened and Archie loves the Spiderman action figure she and her mother made a special trip to Toys ‘R’ Us for.
Soon the cake is brought out, a double chocolate one with an image of Spiderman and Venom fighting on the front. Happy Birthday is sung, and the cake is dulled out on Spiderman plates. She salivates as the third-largest slice is set down in front of her and she bounces happily ready to dig in. But just as she goes to dig in her mother’s perfectly manicured hand snatches the plate away from her and chucks it in a nearby trashcan.
“Honestly, Elizabeth, you don’t need that.” Alice chastises. “The doctor said you’ve already put on five pounds and you don’t want to blow up too much and not be able to fit in your ballet leotard because then you will never make a point.”
She remembers this as the first time she feels embarrassment and it takes her a moment to look up. Archie is obliviously eating cake, while Jughead gives her a sympathetic glance and uncharacteristically not shoveling it into his mouth like he’s not eating out of some unspoken solidarity. She wants to stomp her foot and throw a fit, but she’s a Cooper and Coopers don’t do that.
Instead. “Sorry Mommy, I forgot.” She whispers
That’s the day she truly learned to shove her emotions down.
II
She’s twelve. She’s rail-thin acne marked skin, scraped knees, and braces. She’s blossoming awkwardly in more ways than one. She’s developing a crush on the boy next door, she confides in this to nobody but her diary; about how her heart speeds up when he comes into view, how she tingles in a way she’s not used to. How she would really love him to be her escort to the seventh grade formal.
One afternoon she’s hunched an old Camero her father wants to restore and put on the market, the money would go into her college fund. That’s her idea of fun; flipping cars with her old man. Hal has gone off to make sandwiches. Archie and Jughead walk up Andrews side of the driveway; Jughead is in his usual jeans that are just a little too small that she can see his ankles creeping out the bottom and his flannel shirt that was obviously taken from his father’s closet because it’s just a little too long, while Archie looks dashing and a little out of place in his Riverdale Middle School basketball uniform. Suddenly Betty feels a little self-conscious about her grease-stained overalls.
Jughead notices her first and waves. “Hey, Betty, got any of those chocolate chip muffins left? He greets, jovially. “I would kill for one.”
Betty grins at her best friend, she doesn’t get why people write him off as angsty or a Holden Caulfield wannabe. He’s never been anything but sweet to her. “In the kitchen, help yourself.”
Jughead scrambles off into the kitchen while Archie stands there scratching the back of his head. Betty has known him long enough to know that he is nervous about something. “Can we talk Betty?” He chokes. “It’s important.”
Betty bites her lip and holds back a girl squeal, building up inside her. This is it, this is the moment. “Of course, Arch, about anything.” She bounces.
Archie wrings his hands. “I know your Mom said you wanted to go to the dance with me but I already asked Ginger Lopez, she said we could kiss with tongue after the dance and besides you’re like my sister so we can’t do that.” He explains, regret in his voice. “But Jughead said he is willing to go to the dance with you, we can double date.”
Her mother had told him? How had she found out? The only reasoning was she had read her diary. The excitement in Betty’s chest dies down, she wants to scream and cry. But alas Coopers don’t do that. “Oh, right, of course, I will just go with Jughead.” She agrees.
Archie gives his megawatt smile. “Great, see you there!” He bids her goodbye and leaves her behind.
“Elizabeth!” Her mother screams from the kitchen. “What is this hoodlum doing in my kitchen!”
That’s the day she learned she doesn’t deserve privacy.
III
She’s 18 and she’s in love for the first time, she’s pretty sure it’s the only time. It’s not the redheaded boy next door, but Riverdale’s very own Holden Caufield, Jughead Jones. His words are like poetry her and his touch burns her skin in the best way possible. She feels content, they’ve have had their battles as every couple does but have come back. She knows she’s going to marry him one day and have little raven-haired children with green eyes. Just not yet.
Being the proactive one she is she goes on the pill; most mothers would be proud of their daughter for being smart with their health. But most mothers weren’t Alice Smith.
It is dinner after Betty and Alice’s impromptu therapy session, her mother has returned her money and her mail has been glued shut again, that didn’t make up for her opening it but it was a start. The two women sat in silence eating their grilled chicken, while Jughead and FP smiled on as JB regaled them about her day. “Then Diesel, who the fuck” –
FP cuts her off. “Hey!” He barks. “Language, young lady!”
“I’m sorry!” JB defends, stabbing her broccoli. “A boy named Diesel warrants an f-bomb!”
Jughead bites his lip to hold back a chuckle, he reaches over to hold Betty’s hand. “And what about your day, Betts, how was it?” He asks, clearly trying to avert the attention from his sister.
Betty opens her mouth to speak but Alice answers. “I’m sure it will be better now that you’re home.” She sneers, though a smile never leaves her face.
“Alice…” FP warns. “Come on, let me enjoy this time with my son without antagonizing him.”
Alice purses her lips. “I think I know why he’s here.” She interjects, aggressively slicing her chicken.
Jughead frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, genuinely confused.
Alice pulls something out of her pocket and slides it down the table to Jughead; it’s the birth control Betty had put back in her bedside table, meaning Alice had gone back through her things. She watches as Jughead’s cheeks tinge red and Jellybean tries to peep a look at the container Betty digs her fingers into her palm, it was the only way she could refrain from strangling her mother. Jughead notices this and takes her hand, unfurling her fingers. Alice raises an eyebrow at her daughter. “Eliza” –
“I told you to respect or lose me for good, obviously you chose the latter,” Betty says simply. “I want you out of this house by morning.”
That’s the day she learned she didn’t need her mother.