Hungry for Love

by Nancy Frederick

  Chrissy flailed about, alternately waving her hands and pressing the bandana to her face. “I can’t breathe in here. Oh my God! What if I have to quit this gym?”

  Joan heard the word quit and her face registered worry only for a moment. The members had contracts. Nobody could quit. But still, this woman could make some trouble. People were certainly gazing at them right now.

  Chrissy continued, “This place is my oasis. I could have a breakdown.”

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all this,” said Joan, echoing what she’d heard an army of customer service reps say every time she made a call to complain about anything. “I apologize. Please accept my apologies.”

  “Apologies?” asked Chrissy with utter disgust.

  “I’m going to look into this,” said Joan. “And whatever I can do to solve this problem I will. Zero Tolerance, right?”

  “Yes!” said Chrissy, semi-placated. “Zero Tolerance.”

  Feeling marginally better but unwilling to leave this travesty in the hands of someone else, Chrissy dressed and marched down the street in the direction from which all the toxicity emanated. She would take whatever steps were necessary. Envisioning a protest march of similarly disgusted gym patrons holding signs, she knew it wouldn’t be long before that deli closed its doors and something innocuous took its place. Maybe a nice greeting card shop.

  She looked at the deli, a hole in the wall really, well a charming hole in the wall, called It’s Delish. Delish indeed. More like de-frightful. Just as Chrissy was about to stride into the deli with an air of righteous authority, seething, and muttering some of the precise words she’d use when the confrontation took place, she noticed to her horror that there inside sat Bill with Laura and she was about to pop a bite of food into his mouth. His expression told the tale—he looked enraptured, anticipatory—and oddly a little terrified. What did that mean? What sort of hold over him did that cold, controlling bitch have?

  Chrissy stopped dead. Now what? Quickly she turned to walk away, but something pulled her back. So there she was outside that toxic pit, marching back and forth like a hypnotized soldier.

  Before she could formulate a strategy, Bill and Laura rose. They were moving! They would see her! Quickly Chrissy turned and walked several paces away from the deli and dashed into another shop. Oh no! It was Godiva.

  The girls inside smiled and greeted her with warmth and friendliness. “Care for a sample?” one asked sweetly. As if. As if. The utter gall.

  “Yeah you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You enslavers of women. You devils in aprons. You monsters. This place is a menace. It should be closed down. They all should be closed down. And you can bet I know what I’m talking about.” Chrissy burst into tears as she gazed at a tray of samples being offered to her. “Don’t shove that in my face!” she commanded. As she wept, she crumpled onto the floor, deep in tears while the salesgirls looked to each other, clueless about what to do. “I just can’t get away from you,” Chrissy sobbed, and then she finally said the word, the word she’d vowed never to say again, “And all that deliciousness.”

  Just as one of the girls was reaching out to offer her a kindly pat on the back and the other was again about to extend the sample tray toward her, Chrissy rose, violently held out both hands in the sign of the cross, just as someone holding a vampire at bay might, and she ran from the store.

  She gazed down the street, where she could clearly see Bill and Laura strolling as though they hadn’t a care in the world. Life sucked, she thought. Then she turned and walked toward her car.

  Bill and Laura glanced at each other, both a bit queasy. “They don’t usually put curry in cake frosting, do they?” he asked.

  Looking nauseated, Laura said, “Chocolate in eggplant? The only wine you could serve with that food would be Alka Seltzer.”

  Ben was feeling good about himself. Taking Clint up on his offer to be his trainer was a good idea. He was already looking more buff, and he felt better too, more alive. Who knew that joining a gym could be so entertaining? He and Clint were marching up and down on Stairmasters and talking causally while observing a girl with an oddly familiar voice having what appeared to be a psychotic break.

  “Woah, dude,” said Clint, “Ketosis, not good, not good.”

  “I think she’s on something, hopped up. Cocaine, maybe?”

  “Herbal diet pills,” said Clint, “Super toxic. Hope she snaps out of it. C’mon, let’s hit the weights.”

  Ben followed Clint into the weight room and mimicked everything he did, only with smaller weights. “You know, I think this is working,” he said happily, seeing an actual bicep in the mirror.

  “Of course it’s working,” said Clint. “That’s why they call it working out. Cause it works.”

  “I just hope Angie starts noticing,” sighed Ben. “I’m taking her to the movies tonight.”

  “Well it’s a date, so that can’t be bad, can it,” said Clint, supportively.

  “Only if she thinks it’s a date, but I have a feeling she doesn’t.”

  “Dude, I know you’re hot for this girl, but I just don’t get it. There’s something I learned on PBS and I never forgot it.”

  Ben was surprised. He’d never seen Clint watching anything but porn or the Olympics. “PBS?” he asked.

  “Did you know there are more women on the planet than dudes? It’s a known fact. And do you know why this is?”

  Ben nodded, “Because the XX chromosome is statistically favored over the XY.”

  Clint shook off that bit of useless psychobabble and said, “It’s cause dudes need options. If a babe says no, there are always more who say yes. Otherwise there would be an epidemic.” Clint scowled at Ben’s look of disbelief. “Yes,” he continued, “An epidemic—of blue balls. Nature doesn’t want that because dudes do all the building and nobody can drive a crane with blue balls.”

  Ben tried to conceal his laughter but he couldn’t and Clint didn’t even glare at him. They’d been friends for too long. “All I’m saying is go for what you want but don’t let it ruin your life. For all you know there’s another girl way hotter than Angie who’d be lots less trouble. I’ll fix you up if you want. At least you’d have something to compare her with. Or we can go out together. Just think about it.”

  Ben nodded. “You’re a great friend, Clint. Thanks for the offer. But first shouldn’t I try the advice you gave me the other day? Show her I’m straight, be a little macho—I mean I’ve been in love with this girl since the third grade.”

  Clint shrugged. “Ok, bud, maybe it’ll finally click. You must be gangbusters in bed with stamina like that.”

  Ben smiled, happy to think of himself as gangbusters in bed. Maybe he could be. Right now, though, he was just relieved that nobody was asking him to drive a crane.

  Angie stood happily in line at the revival theater, next to Ben, who carried a shopping bag from a book store. He was the one person to whom she could confide everything. Her eyes glowed brightly as she recounted her most recent experience with Dr. Flicker. “And he was practically all over me. I’m fearless around him. I say things I’d never have the nerve to say to anyone else. It feels so deep, so intense.”

  This wasn’t going at all the way it should. Angie hadn’t even noticed his new clothes or the fact that his sleeves were rolled up to display his newly empowered biceps. Ben had to do something, so when a decently sexy woman passed them he took a chance. “Woah!” he said in his best Clint imitation. “Look at her! She’s hot! You think she’d go for me?” Then he carefully scrutinized Angie to see if she presented the hoped for reaction. Was that the tiniest glint of insecurity? Did she seem a little jealous?

  “Sure she would,” said Angie. “Go talk to her.”

  Oh no! Ben’s heart lurched. “What about you,” he said, trying to lead the conversation back to where it belonged.

  But uncomprehending of his true meaning, Angie said, “Oh don’t worry about me—I can take a cab home. You deserve to meet a nice wo
man.”

  Ben sighed. “No, no…. I meant…. Geeez…. I mean…. Like, um. Well. Never mind, um, I mean, here, open this present.”

  To Angie’s surprise, Ben pulled a nicely wrapped present from his shopping bag and handed it to her. She carefully removed the paper then read the title out loud. “Off Daddy’s Lap—Conquering the Electra Complex. Hmm. This looks….interesting. Lotta great recipes in here I bet.” Then as he looked bewildered, she laughed, and said, “You’re such a sweetie.”

  Angie reached over to hug Ben, and he glowed and hugged her back even more tightly. She gently kissed his cheek and he could feel the color rising in his face.

  She jumped away from him and said, “Look, we’re going in. I’ve never seen Lolita. What’s it about?”

  Bill was enjoying an evening with the family in front of the television. Chrissy seemed calm enough and he liked having her nestled in the crook of his arm. He was thinking vaguely about the party he was planning and hoping that everything was once again back on track.

  Will had found a creative use for the Barbie Dream Car and repeatedly he smashed it into the Barbie Dream House as Candy attempted with little success to wrench it away from him. Bill glanced at them now and then.

  Chrissy was attempting to talk about her future, about the possibility of her having a career. “What if it isn’t enough?” she asked Bill sincerely, “Don’t you think I should have something to fall back on? I’m not ever going back to….”

  Bill smiled at her and said, “I know the kids love having you here when they come home from school.”

  Candy and Will stopped their wrestling briefly to glance at each other and to roll their eyes.

  “But sweetheart,” continued Bill, “Sure, get a job if you want one.”

  Chrissy didn’t know whether to consider this a supportive gesture or one designed to avoid palimony when Bill’s affair with his partner’s wife came to light and everything crashed and burned. “I just don’t know what I’d do,” she mused.

  Bill spoke up and said “Maybe you’d feel more fulfilled if you’d stop….”

  Before he could continue, Chrissy interrupted, “How about a Koush Koush distributorship?”

  “I told you,” said Bill far less charitably, “That drug is never coming to the U.S.”

  Unwilling to hear his excuses yet again but also determined not to set him off, Chrissy said congenially, “What about an herbal version?”

  By this time Will had taken one of Candy’s Barbies and had wrapped its hair around a rear wheel of the Barbie Dream Car and was dragging the doll behind the car. Candy began wailing in increasing volume.

  “Stop it!” said Bill to Chrissy. “Enough with the Koush Koush! It’s all you ever talk about. No more, please. Enough!”

  “Daddy,” screamed Candy.

  “Will,” said Bill sternly.

  Candy shoved Will with her shoulder and managed to wrench the Barbie out from the wheel of the car, but half of her hair was left wedged into the wheel. Will began laughing at the half-bald Barbie as Candy screamed and wept.

  Chrissy leapt to her feet, clearly displeased. “That’s enough!” she said with authority. Pointing toward Will, she said, “You! On the Stairmaster. Now.” Will glanced at his dad, who shrugged, so he decided uncharacteristically to obey. Then Chrissy pointed at Candy and said, “You! On the rowing machine.”

  “Hey!” protested Candy, “I’m not the criminal here. Look at my Barbie.” She thrust the half-bald doll toward her father.

  Chrissy smiled as though the light had finally dawned. “That’s it!” she said excitedly. “I’ll work at the gym—or one of those diet centers. Can you imagine a better plan?”

  Bill rose, kissed her on the cheek and nodded, smiling. “Anyone want ice cream?” he asked pleasantly.

  Chrissy, aghast, intoned, “Bill!” But he was already on the way to the kitchen.

  –FIVE –

  Angie was engaged in a staring match with Nurse Leona, who really seemed to be against her. She provided such a sober atmosphere in the examining room that it created a wall between herself and Kevin, a wall Angie was certain was destined to topple any day now. She thought if she stared hard and long enough, Leona would exit the room, leaving her alone when Kevin arrived. Her focus was so intense that she almost didn’t notice when Dr. Masters instead of Dr. Flicker entered the room.

  Bill smiled pleasantly at Angie and said, “Hello, Ms. Antimangia. Nice to see you again.”

  Angie didn’t bother to hide the shock that registered on her face, nor the disappointment. “Where’s Kev—Dr. Flicker?” she asked with irritation.

  “He’s been so swamped lately, I’ve taken over some of his cases. I hope you don’t mind,” said Bill, again very pleasantly. Angie was unable to think of a reply as he continued, “I see you’re doing great, as usual.”

  She sat there, frustrated and sad as he went through the motions of listening to her heart, checking her pulse, and when all the vitals were ascertained, he patted her kindly on the shoulder. “Looking great, just great.”

  Angie sighed, “I was sorry you didn’t like my food.”

  Bill smiled. “I was going to call you—let’s talk in my office.”

  As Angie took a seat opposite Bill, he worked to neutralize her hurt feelings. His face, unfailingly kind, conveyed a sense of paternal goodness. “I’m not much of a sophisticated eater. I just like plain, simple food, so really I’m not the best judge of your amazing cuisine.”

  Angie brightened, “Oh. I see.”

  Bill smiled at her and was happy to see her face grow less stormy. “But if you’d be willing to do some simple, sort of traditional things, no reason at all why we wouldn’t love to have you cater it. Of course it’s probably not fair to ask you to do that—no challenge to the artist in you. So I’ll understand if….”

  Angie smiled in return. He was nice. And very handsome. “No, no,” she said, “Sure, I’d love to do it. Doesn’t have to be cutting edge to be fabulous.”

  “Well, great.” Bill paused to look down at her chart, then asked, “So—how’s the diet going? Having any issues with your new, thinner body?”

  “I don’t really feel all that different. I thought I would. I’m still surprised when people look—and don’t throw up.” Angie laughed but they both knew she wasn’t really making a joke.

  “Being thinner can’t rid you of problems. All it can change is your dress size.”

  Angie stopped for a moment to think about this, but it wasn’t anything she didn’t already know. “I catch a glimpse of myself in mirrors or store windows and I think, who’s that—and then I remember—it’s me. Amazing.” She grew quiet briefly while he waited and she was surprised to note that he was actually listening, actually participating in the conversation. “At least I got a handle on the food thing. I never taste anything I cook. Used to taste or snack all day long.”

  “Interesting,” said Bill. “So. Let’s talk about anger.”

  “Anger?” asked Angie.

  “Are you still angry at your dad?”

  “Oh,” said Angie, surprised, “You knew.” Had he read that in her file? Did Kevin tell him that? “Other day I brought him some homemade Gelato and he didn’t even take it.”

  “Have you talked to him about this?” asked Bill gently.

  Angie drew in her breath sharply. “Oh I couldn’t do that. Nobody talks to Daddy. I’d have to get arrested to get his attention.”

  “Yes you can,” said Bill encouragingly. “I have two suggestions. First, talk to your dad. Secondly, go back to the deli and taste very small bites of what you’re cooking. And then at mealtime adjust your food a bit to compensate and of course maintain correct levels of exercise. I think you’ll discover something interesting.”

  “What?”

  Bill smiled. “We’ll discuss it next time.”

  Angie was highly agitated as she left the office. Dr. Masters was a nice man but he clearly was crazy and that wasn’t even the whole
problem. The problem was her plan was being foiled. And she did not intend to give up—she was no quitter. So she left the building and waited out front, pacing now and then and intermittently checking her watch—he would surely be going out to lunch shortly. And there he was!

  Kevin walked out of the office building and toward his Porsche, but Angie stepped right up to him with a gleaming but insecure smile.

  “Kevin! Dr. Flicker,” she called.

  He strained to recall her name, but couldn’t, then smoothly said, “Well, hi. What are you doing here?”

  Angie sounded so sorrowful as she asked, “Are you mad at me?”

  “Of course not,” Kevin replied. He noticed a familiar looking black Honda cruising by, and briefly he turned in the direction of the vehicle, but it sped away. Did he know that car?

  Angie took his absorption as a sign. “You’re not telling me something. I can feel it.”

  Kevin knew an out when he was presented with one. Conspiratorially he said, “I have to be extra careful now. People are watching me.” He glanced in the direction in which the Honda had gone. “Holding things over my head. Plotting. They know about….”

  Wide eyed, Angie asked, “About us?”

  “You can’t imagine how serious Dr. Masters is. He sees us together and he worries.” Kevin smiled at her in his most beguiling way and continued, “Too hard to hide chemistry like ours.”

  Angie quivered a little, something which Kevin did not fail to notice.

  His eyes narrowed and he said, “Problem is nobody has ever tempted him. I just wish. Well, I shouldn’t say it. I’ll just stop here.”

  The air rushed from Angie’s throat as she sighed, “Oh no, don’t stop. Tell me everything.”

  Kevin looked to the right and the left as though he were making sure he was not being overheard or spotted. “Ok. I wish someone would come along and seduce his ass.” He gulped a few times, then said, “Oh, please excuse me.”