Lucy clicked away at the remote control, eventually stumbling onto an Andy Griffith Show marathon. The pizza came, and she whispered her thanks to the delivery boy so Mary Fran wouldn’t hear. Lucy put away the ice cream and returned to the couch, the box balanced on her knees. She studied the red, green, and white map of Italy and the cute little illustration of the pizza guy holding out a steaming pie pan. She opened the lid and feasted her eyes on the sight-twelve inches of crisp white heaven topped with spicy sausage and a homemade tomato sauce, smothered in a velvet veil of melted mozzarella. It had been far too long.

Lucy managed to eat the entire pizza while watching Sheriff Andy Taylor orchestrate the budding romance between Goober and Flora, the new diner waitress. During the episode where Opie befriends a hobo, Lucy ate the pint of butter brickie. And while Opie searched for his lost baseball in the haunted Rimshaw house, Lucy lay on her side moaning.

“Lucy? Are you out there?” Mary Fran’s voice sounded stuffy, like she’d been crying again.

Lucy managed to get up off the couch and fought back dizziness as she raced to the bedroom door, noting the empty pizza box on the counter as she went. She’d have to find a way to get rid of that.

“I’m here, Frannie. You want a cup of tea?”

“No. Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you’re still here. Please don’t leave the apartment.”

“No problem.”

“Do I smell pizza?”

It seemed more untruths would be required, and Lucy had to wonder if pizza was worth repeatedly lying to family members and small businessmen. “I nuked a Weight Watchers pasta bowl. Want one?” She winced when she heard herself say it.

“No thanks. I’m going back to sleep.”

Lucy turned to shut the door, but Mary Fran’s soft voice stopped her. “Wait, Luce.”

“Sure.” Lucy leaned against the doorjamb and cradled her stomach.

“Thank you for everything.”

“No problem.”

“Can I talk to you for a minute? I… I want to apologize for something.”

Lucy straightened up. “For what?” She moved to turn on the lamp, but Mary Fran asked her not to. ‘This will be easier for me to talk about in the dark,“ she whispered.

“All right.” Lucy waited. In the indirect light from the kitchen, she watched Frannie push herself up to sit cross-legged on the bed.

“First, I want to apologize for not being a very good sister to you lately, or ever, really. I’ve been so focused on my own problems that I haven’t been there for you when you needed me.” Mary Fran studied her hands, her voice choked with sadness. “I know things aren’t great with you and Theo, and I haven’t helped you at all. I’m just making things worse by showing up here and crying. I am sorry.”

Lucy was dumbstruck. In all her life, Mary Fran had never been this frank. Lucy cleared her throat. “It’s all right.”

“No, wait-it gets worse.” Mary Fran blew her nose in a tissue and hung her head. “I need to admit something awful to you. It’s really been weighing on my mind lately and I need to just tell you.”

“OK.” This sounded ominous.

“I’ve always been jealous of you, Lucy. There’s this mean and nasty part of me that was always glad you were heavy, because being thin was the one thing I had mat you didn’t. I am ashamed to tell you this.”

“Whoa.” Lucy’s knees gave out and she landed on the edge of the bed.

Fran looked up at her, and Lucy could see more tears welling in her eyes. “I think I’ve been feeling a little threatened by your weight loss success. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sure you hate me now.”

Lucy sighed. It seemed they were doing some house-cleaning tonight, so she’d better do her share. “I’ve always been jealous of you, too.”

Mary Fran frowned. “Because I was thin?”

“Well, yeah. Thin and pretty and popular. Everyone always compared me to you. ‘The Cunningham girls- the pretty one and the fat one.’”

Mary Fran laughed. “I always thought it was ‘the Cunningham girls-the brilliant one and the ditzy one.’”

They laughed, and Mary Fran reached out for Lucy and they threw their arms around each other. Lucy held Mary Fran’s little body tight to her as they rocked back and forth. Eventually Lucy pulled back and stroked her sister’s short hair. “We’re both ditzes, Frannie.”

“You don’t hate me?” The sincerity in her sister’s expression touched her.

“How could I hate you? Do you hate me?”

“God, no.” Mary Fran fell forward on the bed and stretched out. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have you to come to these past months.” She turned to look at Lucy. “It’s really scary, discovering I may have made a mistake when I married Keith. I’ve got so many decisions ahead of me.” She smiled sadly. “But I’m going to figure out my life. I promise.”

“I know you will. You’re strong. And I’ll always be right here for you.”

“You’re strong, too, Lucy.” Mary Fran rubbed her eyes and rested her cheek on the pillow. “And I’m so proud of you. So proud of everything-”

In seconds, her breathing was deep and slow and Lucy leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to figure out my life, too,” she whispered.

Lucy closed the bedroom door behind her, and her eyes immediately went to the pizza box on the counter-top. It dawned on her that if she and Frannie had gotten around to that conversation an hour earlier, the pizza wouldn’t have been so appealing. As usual, expressing her feelings felt more satisfying than stuffing them down with food.

With a sigh, Lucy pulled out the plastic kitchen garbage pail and shoved the pizza box and ice-cream carton inside. But wait. What if Mary Fran opened the lid to the trash can? She’d be found out. And going to the garbage chute was out of the question, since she’d promised Mary Fran she’d stay in the apartment. So how would she get rid of the evidence?

Lucy picked up the garbage bag, the colors of Italy plainly visible under the thin plastic. She got a pair of scissors from the drawer. She cut the box in half, then fourths, then eighths, and kept going until she had a nice stack of little tomato-stained cardboard squares. She shoved them inside the ice-cream carton, replaced its lid, and shoved the pint back in the trash bag. Then she returned to the couch.

A few minutes later, Lucy realized that wouldn’t work, either. What if Mary Fran saw the ice-cream container? Was ice cream any less damning than pizza? What if the lid fell off the ice-cream container and Mary Fran saw all those little cardboard cutouts? She’d think Lucy was off her nut!

Lucy ran back into the kitchen, where she stood in the center of the room and plotted how to remove all evidence of her binge. Surely this was how ax murderers felt in the aftermath of their crime. Her gaze drifted to the sink, and inspiration hit her.

By the end of the episode where Barney Fife gets his first new car, the sink of hot tap water had done its job. One quick stir with a wooden spoon and Lucy was satisfied the cardboard had disintegrated into an unidentifiable blob of gray pulp. She had begun to scoop the amalgam into a fresh trash bag when the doorbell rang.

“Where is she?” Keith stood in the harsh hallway light, his tie askew and his hair wild. “Mom said she’s here.”

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and blocked the door. “She’s sleeping.”

“I have to see her.”

Lucy was suddenly afraid something bad had happened. “Is everything all right? The kids-”

Keith barged right past her. “The kids are fine. But I’m not. I get out of a meeting this afternoon and I get a voice mail that my wife is leaving me. I get dumped via voice mail.”

Keith spun around, obviously looking for the door to Lucy’s bedroom. “Where is she?”

Lucy pointed, watching her handsome Brooks Brothers brother-in-law jog through her tiny kitchen. He suddenly stopped, staring at the mess in the sink, dripping down the cabinets into the trash bag.