Still, she looked … slimmer.
It was working. The change in her diet. The daily exercise. It was all working.
Making an impulsive decision, Sarai turned on her heel. She stepped away from Mason’s wall to wall mirrors and opened another door. Inside Mason’s bathroom was a scale. It sat catty-corner to the toilet as though it were simply a stepping stool for someone to do their business.
It had been at least three years since she’d stepped on a scale. The memory of the number it had last flashed at her still haunted her dreams some nights. But this was a new day. She’d seen her new reflection. Things were improving.
Sarai hesitated for a second. Then she took a leap. She stepped onto the scale … and wished she hadn’t.
The number the needle landed on was higher than the last time she’d weighed herself years ago. Sarai’s sucked in her gut, but it did no good. She felt nauseated as she peered down. The world spun as the needle rocked back and forth, landing at a higher number each time.
She reached out to the wall to steady herself. Then she decided to stop the torture and stepped off the scale. The needle fell like a stone back to zero, as though it had been straining under her massive weight, gasping for relief.
This was a disaster.
The mirror must’ve been a trick. Mason had probably gotten one of those slimming mirrors that department stores, and circuses, used to trick unsuspecting customers. That’s the only explanation.
Sarai still felt the rolls on her abdomen. Her thighs still rubbed together creating enough friction to start an electric storm. The flesh at the back of her arms still flapped like wings that would never lift her bulk off the ground.
There were birds that couldn’t fly because they were fat. What were they? Ostriches? Yes, ostriches. Funny looking, long neck, fat-bellied ostriches.
There was no way Reed would want to kiss an ostrich. He couldn’t get his arms around the bird’s belly. He’d take one look at her flabby wings and run in the other direction.
Sarai’s limbs felt heavier. Her gut felt bloated. She turned out of the bathroom, sure to avoid looking at the trick mirror. The ground shook at her retreat as the sliver of confidence she’d built over the last few days shattered.
Outside, a cloud settled over the once sunny day. Sarai’s heart sped up even though her workout had been hours ago. Her limbs felt leaden. She just wanted to lie down, but her stomach continued its grumbling protest.
She couldn’t face the bland greens today. She needed something to warm her insides and soothe her sad soul. She didn’t get out much, preferring to interact with the world through her keyboard instead of face to face. But she was in need of some comfort, and food was the only friend she had to turn to.
Chapter Seven
Reed thumbed at the condensation on his mug. The frothy foam sat atop his drink. Tiny bubbles burst as they rose to the surface. He lifted his glass to meet the others around the table. The mugs crashed and the froth spilled over and onto the dining table.
“Here’s to Dylan,” said Xavier. “Our fearless leader.”
“Hear, hear,” came a chorus of male voices. Sean sat to one side of Reed. His shades were off, but he made sure that his scarred side was to the wall and not toward the diners in the restaurant. It had been like pulling teeth to get the man out of the house and off the ranch tonight.
The group was a sight when they went out in force. Xavier and Fran got head nods from men and longing gazes from single women. Their wounds weren’t possible to see out in public.
Sean, with his scars, got stares. Dylan, with his prosthetic leg, which he no longer bothered hiding under pants now that he had the love and admiration of a good woman, and Reed, with his prosthetic arm, got pointing and whispers.
Reed didn’t let it get to him. Like all the men in his squad, he’d served his nation with honor. He’d left the people of his country a little safer and it had only cost him half a limb. Others had fared far worse. Some even paid the ultimate price.
“Much like the bomb that altered our lives,” Xavier continued his boisterous toast. “Dylan had one moment of brightness, then he dimmed, and left behind a lot of smoke.”
“You’re terrible at this, you know?” said Fran.
“Oh, I’m getting to you,” said X. This wasn’t just Dylan’s belated bachelor party. Francisco had gotten married shortly after Dylan took the proverbial leap. “And here’s to Frances. Who followed behind Dylan into the belly of the institution of marriage.”
“X,” Reed cautioned his fellow soldier, but he knew it was a moot point. The guys loved to razz one another any chance they got.
“Don’t get me wrong,” said Xavier.” Marriage is a wonderful institution. I’m just not crazy enough to go inside.”
No one laughed at Xavier’s pathetic jokes. They all knew how he felt about marriage. The man was already eyeing the girls at the next table. And they were eyeing him back.
The five of them had all gathered for a rare night off the ranch for Dylan and Fran’s belated bachelor parties. Both of their marriages had been so sudden that there had been no time to plan. Dr. Patel had insisted that they have a meal at his family restaurant on him. They were finally getting around to taking him up on it.
“Let me take this,” said Reed, raising his glass once again. This time there was no crashing of mugs. The froth stayed inside everyone’s container. “Dylan, we owe you our lives. You continue to lead us through dark times and show us the way. Not just on the battlefield, but in life. You came through adversity and were able to find the love of your life. I only hope I can do the same someday.”
Dylan pressed his lips together and nodded. Gratitude was clear in his blue eyes. Reed turned his attention to Fran.
“Fran, your ability to plan, and your vision of a better world, has touched more lives than you’ll ever admit. You are a role model to the children now in your care, and to the children that will come onto the ranch for learning and healing. I am proud to be your brother, and hope that I can be half as good of a man to the family I plan to have someday.”
Fran’s throat worked. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down before he managed to swallow. Satisfied that he’d paid the proper tribute to his brothers, to his family, Reed raised his glass higher.
“To Dylan and Fran.”
Xavier and Sean repeated Reed’s words. But as soon as they were sipping at their brews, Xavier broke the moment, which wasn’t a surprise.
“That’s enough out of you Donna Reed,” said Xavier. “As I was saying—”
“We’re good, X, thanks,” said Dylan. “Thank you, Reed. Those were powerful words.”
Fran nodded his agreement. They both lifted their glasses to their lips again and drank. Each of their wedding bands caught in the low light of the restaurant.
Reed felt a pang in his heart and an itch on his finger. Though he no longer possessed his left hand, he still wanted to sport one of those bands.
“Looks like you’re up next,” Dylan said to Reed. “How’s the online search for a wife going?”
“Things are going well,” said Reed.
He’d been looking online for a while. There had been some time when he’d had plenty of horror stories to tell the guys about the desperate, unhinged, unsavory women trolling the interwebs. Story time hadn’t happened for a while though.
Sarai had been in the first batch of online matches. Even though they’d been a near perfect match, she’d been hard to pin down. She still was. But like any problem, Reed knew there had to be a solution.
“You don’t have a lot of time left,” said Dylan. “It’s less than six weeks before the zoning goes into effect on the ranch. It’s going to take a year to fight it and get it changed after that deadline.”
Reed nodded. He knew what was at stake. He was working on it. There were other women who were available as solutions. He just couldn’t stop thinking about the one who was closest to him in every way but physically.
“Did we
just hear you correctly?” said a feminine voice. The coeds who Xavier had been eyeing all night turned around to face their booth. “Did you say you have to get married to stay on your ranch?”
“Yes.” Xavier pulled on a somber look that any cognizant woman would be able to see was fake. “We’ll lose everything if we don’t find brides.”
These two girls, however, widened their gazes and cooed at the predicament. Reed knew that Xavier had been using this pickup line on unsuspecting women for weeks now. These two were just another group to take the bait.
“Wow,” said one of them. She was curly haired and petite. “It’s like something out of a romance novel.”
“Did a grandfather write in his will that you can’t inherit unless you get married by a certain age?” said the other. Her hair was long and bone-straight.
“Or are you all here in the country illegally?” said the one with the curls.
“No,” said Reed. “We’re all Army vets. It’s a zoning issue.”
The women’s faces fell at the less than romantic legal issue the guys were facing.
“But,” said the straight-haired one, “he just said you all need mail order brides.”
“We don’t.” Fran held up his ringed finger.
Dylan followed suit, holding up his left hand.
Sean looked away.
With three out of five men off the table, the women looked Reed’s way to even up their numbers. Reed didn’t have a piece of metal on his finger. He had a metal arm. He held up his prosthetic.
If the women glanced at it and didn’t screech in horror, they might be worth his time.
“Oh, my God,” said Curly Hair. Her screech was loud enough to force the cook to poke his head around the corner. “What happened to you?”
Her straight-haired friend reared back as though Reed might reach out and give her cooties with his metallic attachment.
Reed had just said that he was a veteran. Couldn’t they put two and two together? Apparently not. “Alligator attack.”
“Whoa,” the two said in unison. Quieter, though.
Airheads weren’t his cup of tea. Intelligent, humorous fan-girls were. Reed palmed the phone in his pocket. “Excuse me.”
He got up from the table as Xavier crossed over to the girls’ table.
Reed made his way to the back porch of the restaurant. A sappy country song about lovers constantly missing meeting each other played on the radio as he did. He dialed Sarai’s number. He’d only dialed it one other time when their internet connection had been choppy.
It rang. Then rang some more. He was about to hang up when she answered.
“Reed?” She was a bit out of breath as she said his name.
“Hey,” he said. His smile stretched wide just at the sound of her voice. Then he cursed under his breath. “It’s midnight there, isn’t it? I’m so sorry, I didn’t consider the time difference.”
“It’s okay. I was up. I didn’t know we were chatting tonight? I didn’t have it on my schedule. I thought you were busy.”
Just another thing he liked about this girl. She kept an orderly calendar.
“We’re not. I am. I … I was just thinking about you.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. He heard traffic through the connection. Was she outside? Had he interrupted her evening? Was she with someone else?
She could be. She had every right to be. They’d never claimed exclusivity. He couldn’t even call her his girlfriend.
“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I was just headed out to grab a bite.”
“If you’re on a date or something …” Reed kicked at a pebble on the wood patio.
“I’m not seeing anyone else. I mean …”
“Neither am I.” Reed rushed to fill the silence, hoping he could close even more distance between him and this woman. “I don’t want to see anyone but you.”
There was more silence from her end, but he distinctly heard her breath catch. Had he gone too far? He didn’t want to push her, even though his time was short. This thing between him and Sarai was too important to mess up over a zoning deadline.
“I’m sorry,” said Reed. “I’m not trying to rush you. I just … am I the only one who feels something here?”
“No.”
Her voice was so quiet; he wasn’t sure he’d heard her until she repeated herself.
“No, you’re not.”
There was more silence on the line. But it was a comfortable silence. It was the silence they’d shared a couple of times online when she’d caught him gazing at her. There was a hint of embarrassment in her tone, but also pleasure.
“Listen,” said Reed. “I don’t want to hold you up from your meal. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
He could practically hear her smiling through the phone. He knew exactly what that would look like. Her beautiful face would stretch over perfectly straight, white teeth. Her eyes would crinkle at the corners. She might run her hands over her ear to brush away a nonexistent stray hair.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said. “Goodnight, Reed.”
“Good morning, Sarai.”
“What?”
“It’s already a new day there, in Paris, right?”
“Oh. Right. Of course.”
Reed chuckled. He loved getting her all flustered. She’d look away from the screen when she did, giving him a moment to stare at her without shame. Soon he would be able to tilt up her chin when she looked down.
Reed hit the END button on his phone. But he knew that wasn’t the end. It didn’t matter when it started, but he knew he wanted to begin with this girl and never end. Even if that meant he’d have to leave the ranch.
Chapter Eight
Sarai hit the END button on her phone. The cool night air slapped her in the face. She hated lying to Reed. Heck, she hated lying to herself.
She’d promised herself that she’d get the weight off in the next few weeks so that she could be confident when she presented herself to him. So that she could be the girl she used to be before it all came crashing down one day on a photo shoot.
But here she was; Week One of her promise, and she hadn’t even made any progress. In fact, she was a few steps back. What was she going to do?
Her stomach grumbled again, letting her know what it wanted to do. The smell of curry and spice didn’t warm her as she’d hoped it would. The thought of putting the rich cream and carb-loaded rice in her body made her want to puke.
She couldn’t go in there. She couldn’t eat that food. The day of the photo shoot, she’d met the designer’s weight goal after only consuming liquids. Maybe if she just did a little abstinence from food, for just a few days, she could get on track.
Her phone rang at that instant. Mason’s made-up face popped on the Caller ID, like a virtual angel on her shoulder hearing her naughty thoughts. Sarai hit DECLINE.
She wasn’t regressing into old, harmful ways. She had tools. She knew how to manage her food intake. But it would be okay if she took a day off or two. Fasting was entirely safe if done correctly.
The sounds of a country song of two lovers constantly missing meeting one another sounded into the quiet of the night. It was a peculiar thing to hear the crooning of a cowboy coming out of the doors of an Indian Restaurant.
“Sarai, is that you?”
Was everyone checking up on her tonight? First, Reed. Then Mason, and now her former psychologist.
Sarai turned a model bright smile on, complete with smizing of the eyes—as Tyra Banks liked to say—as she turned to greet Dr. Patel. “Dr. Patel, hi, I thought you spent Wednesday nights at church.”
She’d counted on that. She’d learned her mindful eating at Patel’s Family Restaurant. Back when Dr. Patel had diagnosed her, one of the treatments was to come dine with him and his family there on Thursday nights.
At Patel’s, Sarai had learned to take comfort in curries and chutneys. She’d learned that bread wasn't the devil an
d a warm piece of garlic naan was sweeter and more satisfying than a bar of chocolate. She’d learned to take thirty minutes just to eat a bowl of rice, reveling in each grain as it hit her tongue.
Mindful Eating, Dr. Patel had called it. It was how Sarai had reclaimed her life after the incessant rejection of modeling had changed her perception of herself. It was how she’d learned to use food to heal and not harm her body.
“It’s been too long.” Dr. Patel opened his arms up to her. The man was a hugger. But he was also a good listener with a great memory.
He didn’t bring her into a hug. He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. After years of being nothing more than a mannequin for clothes, makeup, and accessories, Sarai still didn’t take to people touching her without her permission. She’d given Dr. Patel this permission long ago. Still, he was not one to cross boundaries. He’d wait until his permission was renewed.
“Are you coming in to eat?” he asked.
“I …” Sarai opened her mouth and caught the whiff of the spices that had warmed her from the inside out when she was healing. But she also caught sight of her reflection in a car window. “I was just passing by. I thought you were in church on Wednesdays.”
“It’s a special day. Some good friends of mine are having a celebration. Why don’t you come inside? I’d love for you to meet them.”
Sarai was already backing away. “No, I was just out for a walk.”
Dr. Patel nodded. But though his head acquiesced, his eyes saw deeper. “How are you adjusting to everyday life?”
“I’m doing okay.” Sarai shrugged. The movement might’ve been hard to see in the voluminous hoodie she was wearing along with the two-sizes too big sweatpants. Dr. Patel wasn’t looking at her body. He looked in her eyes.
“How is your heart?” he asked. “Are you getting out? Meeting new people?”
“I’m dating.” Not exactly getting out, but online dating was the new age version of going to bars and clubs to meet people.
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