The Lighter Side of Large (24 page)

Riyaan snorts. “Is that what you call it? Anyway, you have a few hours to kill and I need to go shopping, so come with me. Shop now, draw later.”

I haven’t the heart to disappoint Riyaan, and so with cappuccino in hand, we hit the shops. Riyaan appears to be friends with every salesclerk in town and, clotheshorse that he is, gets deferential treatment. I, however, get ignored, which is better than getting insulted. Being with Riyaan shields me from the cruel remarks and looks which normally accompany my forays into non-plus size clothing shops.

There are a dozen clothing stores in the High Street but Riyaan can’t find anything that suits him. He disappears into yet another dressing room while I stroll through the women’s section. A rich red camisole with sheer over-blouse catches my eye. I glance at the price tag. Ouch.

“What do you think?” Riyaan says, popping out of nowhere in a dark striped button up shirt and black blazer.

“That color would look great on you.”

“What, this?”

Riyaan nods. “Yes, you should get it for your lunch date. Nothing says ravishing like red.”

I drop the tag. “It’s a
picnic,
not one of Sands’ dates. Picnic, as in casual lunch on the beach, not sex on the beach.”

Riyaan waves aside my view. “I just love that drink. I really should go to bartender school. There’s more money in liquor than coffee. But enough about me. You should try it on, just for chuckles and grins.”

“That depends on who’s chuckling and grinning,” I protest as he takes a couple blouses off the rack and holds them up to me.

“What size do you wear?” he asks.

“Very large,” I reply.

“Yes, but you’ve lost weight, so you’ve probably gone down a size or two.”

I brighten at the thought. “Yeah, you’re right.” I snatch both blouses from Riyaan and look at the sizes. “I’ll give this one a try.”

“What about me?” Riyaan stops my charge toward the dressing room. He turns this way and that, modeling the top and jacket.

“Gorgeous,” I nod.

“Really?” Riyaan looks over his choice. “But you said that about the other top and jacket.”

I shrug. “Can I help it that I have a gorgeous friend with gorgeous taste in clothes?”

Riyaan turns toward a mirror on the wall and studies himself. “Well, since you put it that way.”

I duck into the dressing room to try on the blouse. To my delight, it’s too big.

“Let me see,” Riyaan calls from outside the dressing room.

“It’s too big,” I call back. “Can you get me a size 20?”

“Gotcha,” Riyaan says and half a minute later knocks on the dressing room door. I crack it open a couple of inches while hiding behind it and we trade blouses. This time, it’s a perfect fit. I stand for a minute in front of the mirror, admiring how well I look. I’m still too big for my taste, but the color goes well with my skin tone and the style of the blouse frames my body nicely. And, as it so happens, it matches the capris and shoes I’m wearing.

And then it dawns on me that I’m actually looking at myself in the mirror. I’m not avoiding it or cringing at the woman smiling back at me -
smiling.

“I’m waiting,” Riyaan says through the door. I turn and open it. He gasps. “Bella! Girl, I’m telling you -ravishing.”

I’m pleased to get a compliment in a clothing store for once. “Thank you. But,” I sigh, “it’s a little too pricey for little old me.”

“I’ll spot you some cash,” Riyaan volunteers.

“Absolutely not,” I protest. “Thank you, but I really can’t.”

“You mean you really won’t,” Riyaan retorts.

“Fine. Can’t, won’t, it doesn’t matter. I don’t mooch off my friends,” I say, closing the dressing room door.

“It’s not mooching,” Riyaan says through the door. “It’s helping your love life.”

I laugh. “Thank you, Riyaan, but my love life will have to carry on without the blouse.”

He sighs dramatically. “Suit yourself. I’m going to change.”

I change and return the blouse to the rack. Riyaan is already at the checkout counter making his purchases. “Thanks for shopping with me,” he says.

“No problem. It was fun, not to mention exciting to learn that I dropped two shirt sizes.”

He gives me a side hug. “I’m so proud of you. You deserve to be happy and you deserve the best.”

He walks me back to my car, which is parked in front of the gym. I am out of breath from the long walk down the street, but I am not as winded as I normally get.
Another victory,
I think. After Tiresa’s scathing tirade, I need all the positive affirmation I can get.

“Hope you have fun on your date,” I say, rummaging through my purse for my keys. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, this is a joke. I have the biggest bunch of keys in the universe and I still can’t find them.”

When I finally do find them, Riyaan is holding out a bag. “You didn’t!” I say. “Riyaan, I told you…”

“Happy Birthday!” he cheers.

“My birthday isn’t for another seven months,” I remind him.

He shakes the bag at me. “Think of it as an early birthday present. Now go change your top. Jae’s eyes are going to pop out of his head when he sees you in this.”

I take the bag. “Thank you, Riyaan. You shouldn’t have, but thank you.”

“I live to please,” he winked. “Go ravish him, tiger.”

Flushed with excitement, I hurry back into the gym to change in the locker room. Sands leads an aerobics class but sees me rush by the door. “One and two and I LOVE IT, Bella! and three and five more, ladies, you can do it!”

My watch says 1 p.m. by the time I park my car and walk to the pier. Jae is nowhere in sight. I hate just standing there waiting. I feel anxious while trying to appear nonchalant and inconspicuous, a hard task when you’re big and wearing red.

A group of college-age men approach the pier, joking and laughing. I brace myself for the inevitable snigger when they pass by, but just then Jae appears from the other direction. I smile and wave at him with relief. When I glance at the group as they turn onto the pier, one of them, a tall, husky fellow, looks at my ample bosom and then makes eye contact and winks.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Jae says as he arrives carrying the same picnic basket he took on our first outing. He gives me a side hug. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I say, glancing back at the group of men. “I’m just not used to getting compliments.”

“Oh? And who complimented you?”

I point. “That tall gentleman.”

Jae looks and pulls me close. “She’s my lunch date, pal. Back off,” he threatens playfully. “Love the blouse, by the way. It looks great on you.”

Grinning ear to ear, I float down to the beach next to Jae. He opens up a big blanket and unpacks the basket. “Since you’re dieting, I kept it healthy,” he explains. There’s fruit and vegetables and chicken salad with lo-cal dressing and,” Jae brings out a container with a flourish, “while I’d like to claim another boxed culinary masterpiece, these fat-free brownies come from the bakery.”

“Aw, thanks,” I say.
What a guy!
“You picked the perfect day for a picnic,” I observe. The sky is clear, the weather is warm and breeze off the water keeps us from getting too hot.

“Thanks for coming,” Jae responds, pouring us both cups of coffee. “It really was spur of the moment. I like being spontaneous. It keeps life interesting and fun.”

“I agree,” I take the cup from him. “To spontaneity!”

Jae clinks his cup against mine and our fingers brush. “You know, it was my New Year’s resolution to be more spontaneous and impulsive. My life had been so planned out and dry and lifeless that I decided I needed a change.”

“Well, adventure tourism certainly gives you an outlet for change. How’s business been?”

“Awesome,” Jae exclaims. “We’ve had several big companies book outings for their employees. And if you can believe it, Simon - do you remember Simon?”

“Couldn’t forget him if I tried,” I reply.

“Yeah, I know, what a suit, hey? Anyway, Simon scheduled a day for him and his apprentices and employees to come out to, and I quote, ‘breathe in the inspiration of nature and draw from the exhilaration of adrenaline in preparation for designing next season’s clothing line.”

I bite my lip. “So bungee jumping and quad biking are supposed to inspire clothing? I am not walking around with a bungee cord attached to me, no matter how trendy it becomes.”
Plus I wouldn’t buy Simon’s clothes if they were the only ones left on the planet. I’d rather join a nudist colony.

Jae cracks up. “Yeah, I’m still trying to picture Simon participating, because I have never
not
seen the man in a suit. I’m fully convinced he’s going to show up in his most expensive Armani.”

“Hope it holds together once he splashes through the creek on a bike,” I laugh, picturing Simon quad biking in a mud-splashed suit. “So why was your life so planned out before?” I said, switching the subject.

His shoulders stiffen as he stares at the water. I get the impression he doesn’t want to talk about it and am on the verge of apologising when he replies. “Ambition, I suppose. My family had high expectations for me to go to university and start a business, then when I married and launched our business, we worked all the time to get it off the ground and keep it afloat. Once we established ourselves, we were so in the habit of working, we never stopped to enjoy life. Even our recreation time and vacations centred on work.”

“That defeats the purpose of a vacation,” I laugh.

“Yeah,” Jae scratches his head. “Like I said, very planned out, no spontaneity. If I wanted to plan something like this picnic with her, I would have to confer with her a fortnight in advance to schedule it in.”

“Such a shame,” I murmur, but wickedly feel glad that I have at least one advantage over his ex. Jae likes to act on impulse and I am here to go along with him. That should count for something. “So marketing kept you very busy,” I probe, looking for more insight into Jae’s other work.

“Yeah,” Jae looks away.

But I won’t give up so easily. “I really can’t imagine you working with the people who came to the grand opening. You seem completely different from them. They’re so . . .” I trail off, wondering how to be diplomatic in my description.

“Vain? Stuck on themselves?” Jae puts in.

“Well, that too,” I chuckle. “It must be hard, marketing for fashion and operating Go 4 It. They seem diametrically opposed to one another. I mean, I assume you’re not marketing for any famous clothing designers of quad bike couture.”

Jae smiles. “No, not in the least.” I wait, but he doesn’t volunteer any more information. “Enough about me. What’s your story?” Jae asks.

I’m surprised at how quickly Jae turned the conversation away from himself. I know he’s referring to my divorce. From our frequent phone calls and emails, he already knows about my upbringing and white/Samoan worlds.

“Well, five years ago, when Fi was two weeks old, my ex informed me that he had been having an affair with my sister and that he was divorcing me. We had all been close friends in college, but,” I shrug, “he excused his actions by claiming that I had changed. Oh, and I had post-partum depression at the time, which made everything even worse.”

Jae shakes his head. “I’m sorry to hear it. I can’t imagine your pain.”

I smile. “But the best part is, I get to see my sister every week when she picks up the kids and Mika when he drops them off. AND I’ve been invited to their engagement party and wedding. Can you believe it?”

“No, really?” Jae asks.

“Yes,” I nod and chuckle. “Everyone tells me to show up with a date just to show Tiresa and Mika that they can’t spite me, but I’m not going to.”

“Why not?” asks Jae.

I cringe, not wanting to repeat Tiresa’s accusations. “It’s not worth the emotional effort. Though it would be a laugh to show up a few stone lighter and flaunt my curves in front of them.”

Jae shakes his head again. “You don’t need to lose a few stone to prove your worth. You can do it now.” I laugh. “No, seriously,” Jae insists, “you bungee jumped off a forty-three metre bridge. How does that compare to facing people who wronged you? I say go to the engagement party.”

“You’re right,” I nod. “Will you go with me?”

“Are you asking me out?” Jae says with mock seriousness.

“Yes,” I reply.

Jae grins. “I’d be honoured to be your date.”

“Great. It’s a date.”
Did I just ask Jae on a date? I did!

Jae picks up the container with brownies. “To celebrate the occasion, let us feast on dessert.”

“Oh, no, I really can’t,” I hold up a hand. “I’m sorry. They look delicious, but I’m full.”

Jae takes one out. “Are you sure? Okay, I’ll seal the deal alone.” He takes a big bite out of the brownie, chews for three seconds, and then stops. The smile fades from his face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. For a moment, I think he’s choking and envision me doing the Heimlich maneuver on him.