The Lighter Side of Large (15 page)

“Um, I don’t know,” I hesitate, unsure of what a quad bike is.

Sands smacks her palm on her forehead. “Yes, yes! Tell him you’ll go!” she whispers.

“What time would we start?” I ask.

“Is noon okay?”

Sands nods like her head is going to fall off. “Sure, that’ll be fine,” I say and Sands silently claps. “That will give me time to visit my dad in the morning.”

“Perfect,” says Jae. “Shall I pick you up at the hospital or at your house?”

“My house is fine.”

“What’s your address?” he asks and I give it to him. He repeats it back. “Okay, so it’s a date. Saturday at noon. Remember to dress comfortably. I’ll see you then.”

“Great! See you then. Bye,” I say and hang up. And scream. “He called it a
date
. D-A-T-E, date!” I dance for joy. Sands joins me and we cavort around the kitchen.

Cat sniffs. “And you call me crazy.”

“What should I wear?” I stop dancing. “He said wear something comfortable, but comfortable is too casual to look good.”

“Never mind that,” Sands laughs. “If you’re going quad biking, you’re going to get dirty anyway.”

“What is quad biking?” I ask.

“You know, four-wheeling? You’ll be out in the wilderness where you’re supposed to not look good, so don’t worry.”

I shake my head and sit. “I can’t believe it: I have a date with Jae!” Another thought hits me. “How much weight do you think I can lose in a week?”

Sands shakes her head. “Not as much as what you’d like, so don’t get any lofty ideas. A workout isn’t a miracle unless you do it every day for a long time. Now, when are you coming to the gym?”

I look at Cat then back to Sands, eager to start on my workout but not willing to chase Cat out the door. “In a little while. I’ll go straight from there to pick up the kids from school.”

“Okay. See you later,” says Sands and gives me a quick hug. “I’m so happy for you. See? You just had to make the decision to take back your life and it’s already happening.”

“Thanks,” I squeeze her back. She sees herself out the door. “Isn’t it exciting? I am changing my life. I’m going to be irresistible to men and worthy of respect and people will notice me because I’m a beautiful, talented woman and not because I’m fat. I am going to have the perfect life.”

“Amen, sister.” Sands calls through the door. “See you later.”

She closes the door and I turn to Cat.

“So you really are serious about dropping those pounds, huh?” asks Cat.

“Starting today,” I nod with pride.

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

She shrugs, just the slightest lift of her shoulders. “I hope you’re not setting yourself up for failure in your quest for the perfect life.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say. “Why would you say such a thing? Believe me, I entertain no illusions about losing this weight. It won’t be easy.”

“Try living on the streets,” Cat retorts.

I sigh. “Cup of tea?”

“It’s about time you asked.”

I fill the electric kettle, toss in three tea bags and plug it in, then grab the milk and low-cal sweetener and place them on the table. Cat occasionally stops by uninvited, sometimes for tea but usually to use the shower, but won’t ask outright. She’s funny that way. She has no hesitancy asking for liquor, but to ask for hot water and soap makes her shy.

Her clothes stink. “Can I wash your coat?” I ask. Without a word, she shrugs it off and hands me it. I deposit it in the washer, add a heaping scoop of detergent and shut the lid. “You can take a shower if you need to,” I volunteer. “You know where the towels are.”

Without so much as thank you, Cat gets up and goes to the bathroom. In a minute, I hear the shower running. As much as I enjoyed helping her out, I hope she doesn’t stay long. I can’t wait to get to the gym.

•

Twenty minutes into my workout, sweat is pouring off me and I can’t catch my breath. “Don’t stop now,” Sands cajoles. I’m on the treadmill but instead of treading, I’m trudging. A glance at the treadmill’s controls shows I’ve only walked half a mile.

“I think I’m having a heart attack,” I wheeze.

“No, you’re not” Sands disagrees. “Half a mile more and then we’ll hit the weights.”

I say something which shouldn’t be said aloud in public. A sculpted Adonis with six-pack abs three treadmills down glances my way in shock. At this point, I don’t care how I look to anyone; I just want the agony to stop.

Sands, my personal torturer, wheedles and coaxes me to the one mile marker, then allows me a brief respite and drink of water. All too soon, she whisks me to a weight contraption and has me lifting weights with my arms and legs. They are not happy about it, either. Muscles I haven’t used in years scream and burn in protest.

By the end of the one-hour workout, I am convinced that medieval torture devices and the tactics of the Spanish Inquisition live on in gyms. They are simply marketed in a way which make people enjoy the pain.

“I’m going to die,” I moan, lying on the weight bench.

“That’s what everyone says and they never do,” Sands reassures me. “Now hit the shower and don’t forget to eat a healthy meal tonight, and I’ll see you same time tomorrow.”

I drag myself to the ladies’ locker room just in time to hear my cell phone ringing in my gym bag. I dig through it and catch it on the third ring.

“Hello, Ms White?” the nasal female voice on the other end asks.

“Speaking,” I pant.

“Ms White, this is Vice Principal Keller from Abe’s school. We’ve had a problem today and need you to come in for a parent conference this afternoon.”

My heart was thumping from the workout; now it races with anxiety. “Is Abe all right? What happened?”

“Abe got in a fight today with another student. He normally is well-behaved, which is why his teacher is surprised that he gave another student a black eye.”

“Oh dear,” I murmur. “But did Abe get hurt?”

“No, he’s fine, but as I said, we need you to come in for a conference. You can meet me at my office when you come to pick up Abe after school.”

I glance at a clock on the wall: it’s 2:30 p.m. I have half an hour to shower, change clothes and get to the school by 3 p.m. “Certainly, I’ll be there. See you soon.”

“Thank you, Ms White.” The line clicks off and I sit there, stunned. Abe is, by his teacher’s report, the most popular boy in his class and friends with practically everyone. I don’t understand what happened.I stand up and my thigh muscles cramp, causing me to sit down hard. What started out as a great day is sliding downhill.

•

With my hair still damp from the shower and my clothes slightly wrinkled from being in the gym bag, I hurry into the administrative offices at the kids’ school. Abe and Fi sit in the waiting area. Fi is coloring; Abe looks mad.

“Honey, what happened?” I say, going to him.

To my shock, Abe crosses his arms and turns away from me. “Nothing,” he mumbles.

I touch his shoulder and he shrugs me off. “Honey, something happened and I want to know what.”

“Ms White?” a secretary from behind the counter says. “Vice Principal Keller will see you now. This way, please,” she opens a half door and gestures to a door which has “Vice Principal” painted on the opaque widow in black stencil.

I turn back to Abe. “We’ll talk later.” I squeeze through the narrow half door and walk into the office to find Vice Principal Keller and Mika. Strangely, instead of being upset like I usually am when he’s around, after his help at the hospital a few days ago, I’m relieved he’s here.

“Ms White, thank you for coming,” she stands and offers her hand. I shake it and sit next to Mika. He nods and smiles.

“Mr Fomai, Ms White, as I told you over the phone, Abe got in a fight today. He gave the other boy a black eye, but Abe appears unharmed. When I asked the boys who started the fight and why, the other boy said he wasn’t doing anything. They were playing kickball and Abe jumped on him for no reason.”

Mika chuckles. “And I’m sure your experience with kids tells you that there’s never not a reason for a fight to start.”

Ms Keller nods. “True, but the other children collaborate his story and say they were playing kickball when Abe just jumped on him and started punching.”

“They’re a bunch of liars,” I snap. “They did or said something to make him upset enough to fight. I know my son. He does not act without provocation.” I glare at Ms Keller, daring her to contradict me.

Mika places a hand on my arm to calm me down. “What was Abe’s explanation?”

Ms Keller shrugs. “That’s the problem: he won’t say. He apologised for hitting the other boy but won’t say why he did it.”

Mika nods. “Perhaps he’ll explain now that we’re here.”

“I do hope so,” says Ms Keller. “But whatever the explanation, Abe is suspended for a day. Our school has a zero tolerance policy on fighting. His teacher has given him his classwork for tomorrow so he won’t fall behind, but he can’t come back to school until Wednesday.” She presses a button on her phone. “Margaret, please send in Abe.”

A few seconds later the door opens and Abe shuffles in. “Come here, buddy,” Mika holds out his hand to Abe. With his eyes on the carpet, Abe shuffles to his dad. Mika places his arm around him and gives him a hug. “Abe, Ms Keller and your mother and I need to know why you were fighting. We’re not mad at you and you’re not going to get in trouble at home, but we do need to know what happened.”

Abe, frowning, shifts from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”

“Abe,” I start, “What’s gotten into you? You’re going to tell us what happened.”

Abe’s frown deepens. “It was nothing. I just felt like hitting him, that’s all.”

Mika takes him by the arms. “Look at me, Abe. Do you want to whisper it in my ear? Will that make it easier to tell? Did something happen in class or before school to upset you?”

The events of this morning tumble into my mind. “Is this about your backpack? Are you mad that I didn’t fix it?”

“NO,” Abe snarls at me.

“Abe, you do not raise your voice to your mother,” Mika says sternly. “Apologise to her right now.”

“NO!” he yells and pulls away from Mika. “I ain’t gonna say I’m sorry because it’s all her fault.”

Mika looks at me; I look at Ms Keller; we all look at Abe, who is shaking with anger. “What’s her fault?” Mika asks.

Abe crosses his arms. “She’s fat and everyone was laughing about it and calling her names and making fun of me. They said she’s so fat that her big butt ripped her pants and the car rocks like a boat when she gets in it. They said I was a fatty’s boy and I’m gonna be fat, too.”

Mika reaches out and pats him on the back. “And so you hit him because he hurt your feelings and made you angry.”

Abe doesn’t reply, but sniffs and tries hard not to cry. Ms Keller squirms, looking unsure of what to say on such a delicate matter as my obesity. And I am devastated that my son suffers from my weight problem and horrified that this morning’s hiccup with his backpack did not go unnoticed.

Ms Keller clears her throat. “Thank you, Abe, for telling us the truth. I will speak with the other kids involved in this for not telling me the whole story. Meanwhile, I think our business here is finished. Thank you, Mr Fomai, Ms White, for taking time out of your day for this conference, and Abe, we will see you back at school Wednesday.”

“And the other kids,” Mika says smoothly, “will they be suspended? What is the school’s policy on bullying?”

Ms Keller’s eyes widen. In light of recent news stories about kids committing suicide over being teased and bullying causing physical harm, she knows exactly what he is getting at. Mika waits for her reply, a half-smile playing on his lips. She stammers and I can tell his gorgeous looks and Armani suit are playing havoc with her mind.

She gets a grip on herself. “Mr Fomai, you have my complete assurance that those other boys will be disciplined accordingly. I will be phoning their parents momentarily.”

Mika’s lips break into that smile which hooked me so long ago. Ms Keller blushes.

We file out of the office, a grim group. I grab Fi’s hand and we exit the school. The parking lot is still foaming with parents picking up their kids. We must make quite a sight: me, disheveled from the gym in crumpled clothes and flip-flops, and Mika, fresh from the office with a suit and tie and croc leather shoes.

Mika slips on his Oakley sunglasses. He looks just like a movie star. “Why doesn’t Abe spend the night with me and I can take him to the office tomorrow. He can do his schoolwork there, then I’ll drop him off at your place after supper.”

“Yes!” Abe says, jumping up and down.

“I wanna come, too,” Fi protests.

Mika tousles her hair. “Not this time, sweetie. Abe and I are going to have a men’s day out.”

“No school - whoo-hoo!” Abe cheers.

I sigh. “If he wants to go with you, take him.”

Mika nods. “He needs a break. He’ll be fine.” What he means is that Abe needs a break from me. And of course he’ll be fine: Mika spoils him.