The Lighter Side of Large (14 page)

“Must . . . not . . . grope . . . must resist . . .” he jokes and sets down the avocadoes as if they are great weights while purposely disrupting the others. Several tumble to the floor.

“Oh, no!” I laugh and lunge for them.

“Sorry-oops,” he says as one careens off his head. “I’m just a fumble-fingers today.”

I can’t stop laughing. “We’re just two peas in a pod, aren’t we? I bet the produce manager is going to start having kittens every time he sees us coming.”

We restack the errant avocadoes. “Perhaps we should avoid art exhibits and Waterford crystal shops. The results might be catastrophic,” he jokes.

“True,” I nod. “I have enough on my plate as it is besides destroying works of art.”

“What else is going on in your life?” Jae asks.

“Well, I haven’t tried to hold hands with any strangers lately. I’m keeping busy at home and just had my daughter’s birthday party.”

“Ah,” Jae nods. “I hope it was fun. How old is she?”

“She turned six.”

“My, you have your hands full.”

“Yes, I do,” I agree. “What do you have going on?”

“Let’s see,” Jae continues, “I’m going to Australia on business for a couple of weeks, then it’s back to New Zealand and work, work and more work.”

“I see,”

“But I do hope you’ll call once you’re able,” Jae quickly adds.

“As soon as I’m able,” I reply.

“Bella,” he sticks out his hand, “it’s been great seeing you again.”

“I hope you have a safe trip,” I say taking his hand.

“Thanks,” says Jae.

As he walks away, I can’t believe my luck.
He really is adorable.
I smile to myself.
All that just to make me feel better about what happened the last time. Maybe there’s hope for womankind after all.

CHAPTER TEN

“No matter the source of our emotional excuse for over-eating, we must recognize the need to stop being controlled by emotions and take charge of ourselves.”

FROM BELLA’S BLOG
http://www.thelightersideoflarge.com/ch10

Hurry up, kids, or you’re going to be late for school,” I call down the hallway. It’s a typical Monday morning: us running late. Abe and Fi scamper from their rooms, dragging their backpacks on the floor. I frown. “How many times have I told you not to drag your backpacks? They’ll rip and I don’t have the extra money to buy new ones.”

“Okay, okay,” they mutter, still dragging them to the door.

I grab my purse and thrust packages of Pop Tarts at both of them. “Time to go. You’ll have to eat in the car.”

“I can’t get my zipper to close,” Abe whines, struggling with the zipper.

I open the door. “We’ll fix it in the car. Now come on, guys, hop to it.”

We hustle to the car and I push the speed limit to get them to school on time. When we pull up to the curb in front of the school, Fi gives me a kiss on the check and hops out of the car, but Abe, with Pop Tart crumbs down the front of his shirt, is still pulling on the zipper.

“Honey, you’ve got to get to class. You’re going to be late,” I implore, glancing at the line of cars behind us in the rear-view mirror.

Abe opens the door and takes a step out. “It won’t MOVE!” he grits his teeth and with a final pull jerks the zipper foot off. He loses his grip on the backpack and its contents spill out on the sidewalk and papers fly away.

The mess is beyond his ability to handle. I shift the car into park and get out to help him, rocking the car with the shift of my weight. The mum in the car behind us rolls her eyes. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” I try to console Abe, who is on the verge of tears.

There are plenty of kids hanging around the front of the school, but none offer to help. “Fi, get those papers!” I call. Fi chases after the ones which have blown the farthest away, which I know I’ll never catch no matter how fast I run.

I bend over to grab a couple books and hear as much as feel a rip. “Oh no,” I moan, knowing the back seam of my pants has just come apart. Drat, I think. These are my favourite pair of pants, one of two pairs I owned. I wore them so much that the inner thigh wore dangerously thin. But I’ll soon lose weight and they’ll be too big to wear, so I brush aside the embarrassment and help Abe gather his things and stuff them back inside the backpack. By now, the line of cars is even longer. The vehicles immediately behind us swerve around us, casting dirty looks in my direction. There are horns honking near the end of the line, those who can’t see what is causing the backup.

“How am I gonna carry my backpack?” Abe asks, sniffling.

“Honey, you’re just going to have to carry it in your arms,” I reply, keeping my butt to the car.

“But I can’t do that,” he protests.

I shut the car door and nudge him toward the building. “Yes, you can. You have to. I’ll get you a new one after I visit Dad this morning, all right? Now go to class.”

Abe just stands there looking at the backpack, unconvinced that there is another way to carry it besides on his back or being dragged on the ground.

I walk around to the driver’s side of the car, careful to face outward. “Abe, I mean it, go to class now. I love you and will pick you up this afternoon.”

Abe shuffles toward the school as I pull away from the curb - and slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a car which is too impatient to wait any longer and pulls around me. I force a smile and wave, then hurry home to change my clothes before going to the hospital.

I arrive forty-five minutes later than planned. Dad is awake and just lying there.

“Good morning, Dad,” I say cheerfully. “How do you feel?”

Dad smiles and reaches for my hand. I take his in mine. “I want to get out of here. I’m bored.”

“Oh Dad,” I say and kiss his hand since I can’t kiss him on the cheek. “Don’t you want to watch some TV?”

“No,” he sighs. “I’d rather read but this brace makes it difficult to see a book.”

I pull up a chair and sit. “I’ll see about getting you some audio books. I can download them to my iPod and let you use it. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful, thank you,” he replies. Dad, even with a broken neck, is still his gracious self.

I look around the room. There are three bouquets of flowers and a couple of get-well-soon cards on the windowsill. “Who are your fans?” I ask, pointing. Dad glances sideways but can’t see where I’m pointing. “The flowers?” I clarify.

“The university sent the carnations and daisies - I suppose you called them? My neighbour - he was here earlier - those are some of his prized roses, and Mika sent the irises. Those were a surprise.”

“Oh,” I murmur. “The hospital called him because that was the last emergency contact number they had for you. He called me after Fi’s birthday party to let me know.”

“I’m sorry to ruin the fun,” Dad says.

“No, no, you didn’t. Literally, he called just as we were leaving. You didn’t ruin our fun.” I chuckle. “You
did
almost give me a heart attack, but the call saved me from having to knee someone in the nuts.”

“Bella, what are you talking about?” Dad smiles and tries not to laugh.

“Mama Rose tried to set me up with a neighbour of hers. He’s a cowboy - or wants to be. Definitely not my type.”

“What is your type?” Dad asks.

I squeeze his hand. “You are. No one’s better than my Dad and that’s a fact. So you better stick around a while longer, hey?”

Dad squeezes my hand in return. “Love you, my sweet girl. I’m glad you’re here.”

As I look into his eyes, I know he’s wishing Tiresa were here, too - fat chance of that happening. I switch the subject before her name comes up.

“I plan to be around a long while too, you know.”

Dad furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath. “Dad, I decided to lose this weight. Seeing you lying here in this bed got me scared. I had to ask myself, what if I’m not around for Abe and Fi as they grow up? I can’t do that to them, die young because of heart disease or something preventable. Like you said, I need to take control of my life, so I’m going to lose the weight, make new friends, and embark on a successful career and be financially independent. I am going to be my own woman and find a man who will love me for who I am.”

Dad pats my hand. “Those are noble goals. Not all of them are easy. But you can do it. I know you can.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I smile back. “So you have to be here to see me when I’m successful, you hear?”

“I promise. I will.”

•

“It all has to go?” I ask.

“All,” replies Sands.

I sigh. Sands arrived around noon to go through my cupboards and refrigerator to winnow out all the junk food and write up a list of healthy foods I need to purchase. Most are raw fruits and vegetables which I like, but the thought of eating only them and no cookies, pastries and other high-calorie munchies puts a damper on my enthusiasm for dieting.

“Dang, Bella, would you look at all this high fructose corn syrup?” Sands reads on one box after the other as she tosses them in a big garbage sack. She gasps at a bag of chips. “The carbohydrates in this would feed an African nation for a month. I’m glad you’re letting me design your diet. But you can’t slack off on the exercise. I expect to see you in the gym everyday. No excuses. Holy cow,” Sands pulls a litre of diet soda from the refrigerator. “I’m surprised the phenylalanine police haven’t dropped in to arrest you. This stuff will rot your innards.”

“Hey! That’s diet. It’s okay,” I protest.

“It’s poison,” Sands retorts and dumps it down the sink.

Bang-Bang-Bang.

I look at Sands, who shrugs. “I’m just joking about the police.”

I go to the door and peer through the peep hole. “Cat! Come in,” I open the door and motion her inside and to the kitchen.

Cat looks around the room at all the open cabinets and bulging trash bag. “What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of all the junk food.”

“Does that include liquor?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Sands contradicts me. “Too much sugar.”

“Aw,” I pout.

“I’ll take it off your hands,” Cat volunteers.

Though I was hesitant to give an alcoholic any liquor, it did inspire an idea. I point to the bag. “You can take it all: all this food, all the liquor. Might as well not let it go to waste.”

Cat grunts, which I take as her way of saying thanks.

“Well, I think that’s it,” Sands throws the last box in the bag. “Junk food gone; healthy eating may commence.”

“Why did you put the kids’ Gum-Gum Fru-Frus in the bag?” I ask.

“So you won’t eat them.”

“But what if they want to eat them?” I argue.

“Tough luck. They can eat an apple instead.”

I shake my head. “They’re gonna hate you tomorrow.”

Sands waves away the thought. “It’ll be good for them to learn how to eat right, too. The family that eats healthy together, stays healthy together.”

“Yeah, until they go to their dad’s and eat crisps and ice-cream and Gum-Gum Fru-Frus and cookies and cake and whatever else they want because no one’s keeping an eye on them, and then move in with him because of it,” I mutter. “Maybe I should keep a few snacks for them.”

“No,” Sands stomps her foot. “It will be too tempting for you. Now, sorry to run, but I’ve got to get back to the gym. Are you coming to workout?”

“Cat just got here,” I protest, hoping to get them talking. I really wanted her and Riyaan to be friends with Cat, but they had other ideas.

“Which is exactly why I’m leaving,” Sands grab her purse and gives Cat a sour look. “We’ll talk later.”

My phone rings as Sands heads for the front door. “I’ll see you later…” I say as I pick up the phone - and shriek. “It’s Jae!”

Sands shrieks back.

“Who?” Cat asks, taking at seat at the kitchen table, back ramrod straight. She always sits this way, her posture a contradiction to her appearance and clothing, which has dried vomit on it.

I bounce around the kitchen. “It’s Jae, the guy I met at the grocery store and lost his number but we saw each other yesterday again at the grocery store and he’s calling me right now!” Sands bounces with me.

“Are you trying to cause an earthquake or are you going to talk to the man?” Cat asks.

“Okay. Here goes. Be quiet,” I tell them and hit the answer button. “Hello?” I pitch my voice high and sound cheerful, if not slightly breathless from bouncing.

“Is this Bella with a B?” Jae asks loudly. I think he is in his vehicle because I hear wind blowing through the receiver.

“Is this Jae with an E?” I reply. Sands manoeuvres to get her ear near the phone to hear the conversation, but I shoo her away.

“Yes, it is,” Jae laughs. “Hey, I’m calling because my business trip to Australia got cancelled, and I know you want to spend as much time as you can with your dad, but I was wondering if you were available for our adventure on Saturday?” Sands face breaks out in a wide grin and nods; she can hear every word. “I need to do a test run of the quad bike trail. Are you up for something like that?”