by Alona Jarden
"What? I—"
"Don’t bullshit me, Don. I demand you tell me the truth!"
"I'm actually serious, Mom. There was a support meeting this morning, but I didn’t like the group guide, so I was planning to go to another one this evening."
"I know all about these meetings, Don. I gave you the brochures, remember? I also know you, and unfortunately, I know you're not planning on going to any of them. I'm not stupid, okay? Don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying!" I got filled with a desire to encourage and make her feel hopeful again. "I really did go to the morning's support meeting, and I really am going to attend the evening one." I wished my words would bring joy back to her voice.
"Stop saying meaningless things. You already admitted that you didn't leave the house since this morning. If there's anything I know for sure, it's when my son is lying. And you're lying right now."
"I am not!"
"I don't understand why you insist on saying such hurtful things to me. Don't you realize I just want what's good for you?"
"Mom, will you listen to me? I'm not lying." I started to get frustrated.
"You can share your life with me, Don. What do you think would happen if I knew you weren't at any morning meeting and that you’re not really planning on going to tonight's meeting? What? Do you think I'll go crazy? Is this because of what I said to you at dinner?"
"Ugh!" I exhaled in frustration. "I was lying, Mom. I lied before when I said I never left the house. I was at a meeting this morning, and you know what? I will go to another one tonight."
"Okay." She laughed. "You're saying that you'll go to a weight loss support group meeting? Twice in one day? That's very reliable, Don."
"I will, Mom. I'll even send you a picture from there, so you'll feel bad about this conversation."
"I'll believe it when I'll see it." She exhaled. "And anyway, don't do me any favors. You can go or stay home. I'm out. It's your life to ruin, remember?"
I closed the call with her along with the freezer door. Whether she was playing some reverse psychology trick on me or not, I felt the need to make her happy.
The past three years were very difficult for her too. She, too, lost something very meaningful to her when I came back empty-handed from the hospital. The only difference between us is that she keeps applying a fake smile to her face while believing that it would make me want to rehabilitate my life, while I'm keeping it real.
Sometimes she makes me forget the past, and sometimes she doesn't. In any case, I liked the feeling that someone in my life was trying to make me happy. I guess I tried to do the same for her during our conversation. I guess that's why I was very sorry I failed.
I looked around and got to wondering where was I headed. The money I received from Sarah's life insurance could have easily been enough for me to never go to work again, and after the monthly profit payouts from the company we founded together started coming my way, money stopped being an issue.
My eyes wandered from one corner of the living room to another. Everything around me stayed just as it was when Sarah was alive. I dared not change or upgrade anything in our shared home.
I did repair a broken chair, replace a lighted bulb, and reupholstered a torn armchair, but I didn't dare use any of our money to erase what I built with Sarah during the time we shared.
Just before her death, when she was seven months pregnant, Sarah hired the services of a nice housekeeping lady. She wanted to build a strong relationship with her in advance, so that she would feel comfortable spending time with the housekeeper on maternity leave, and like everything else in my life, I didn't dare change the frequency of the woman’s arrival either. Even after Sarah's death, though I really didn't need it, every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday the housekeeper showed up.
Most of her work involved collecting oil-soaked leftover pizza boxes and some empty snack bags, but I still asked her to show up three times a week like Sarah wanted. There was no one to make a mess of things and no laundry piles of baby clothes to fold. There were no toilets or showers with used feminine toiletries nor any dirty dishes left from cooking dinner in the sink. There was only me and my self-destructive way of life. And we waited for her every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday.
The leftovers of my lunch were on the table in the living room, and next to it were three large empty bottles of Coke. The ice cream I was planning to eat for dessert, was left in the freezer whose door I closed along with the conversation with my mother.
"Well," I said as I exhaled the air slowly out from my lungs. "I guess I'm going to the evening meeting." I swallowed hard and felt my body stiffen.
I had to prepare myself for another departure from my home while wondering if I really would bear returning to it alone twice in one day.
"I'm so glad to see some new faces in the crowd." Ian, the group guide of the evening weight loss support group, looked at everyone sitting in the circle and didn’t miss me being there. "I know not everyone dares to share and talk at their first meeting, and that's fine. But it's important that you listen, get the hang of it, and sound your thoughts. You don’t have to share anything, but you do have to take an active part if you're going to sit with us."
The difference in the composition of the evening group attendees, in comparison to that of the morning's group was significant. It was even evident in the group guide's external appearance.
Ian was a sturdy, handsome, positive, and cheerful guy. He didn’t have that guilt-filled look Janice, from the mornings' group had.
He started the meeting with a few words about himself. He explained how he had weighed more than two hundred pounds, that he'd undergone a heart failure at the age of thirty-three, and that having survived it, he decided to take his health more seriously. He elaborated a little on the long path he walked, stated the ups, downs, and ups again of his weight, winked flirtatiously at some of the women sitting around, and leaned back pleasantly as they giggled with excitement.
All in all, he reminded me of me. Not of the current version of me, but of me when I was his age, and I loved it. I figured that if I had to be in such a group meeting, at least I could listen to someone I could identify with, and not a woman trying to mentor others about a way of life she wasn’t able to achieve herself.
"...And that's it. That's all I have to say about myself right now. I'd love to hear from you guys. Is there anyone of the newcomers who would like to share something with us?" His gaze moved from one person to the other, and for some reason, when he landed his gaze on me, he paused. "How about you? I have a feeling you want to share something with us, but you're ashamed to do so."
"You're correct." I swallowed hard as I got ready to embarrass myself. "My name is Don, and I'm fat."
"This isn’t an AA meeting, Don." All the women burst out laughing disproportionately to the not-so-funny joke Ian told, and he continued. "You being fat is not that different than the rest of us since we're all fat here."
"You're not," I said, stating the obvious.
"Fat is a state of mind, Don. Don’t you know?"
"Yes. That's actually right." I nodded, hoping he would let me be, even though I really disagreed with him since my main problem was that I wasn’t fat in my state of mind.
"Do you have any hopes for the meeting tonight? Any requests from me? Questions? Everything is acceptable and permissible here."
"Um..." A mischievous smile came over my face. "I actually do have a request, and it's a little unconventional."
"Unconventional? My favorite kind of requests, Fat Don." I didn’t understand why his wink made me ridiculously excited. "Bring it on. Try me."
"When I told my mom that I was coming here, she said she didn't believe me. I tried to convince her, but she just said she knows me and that she'll believe it when she sees it, so... I thought maybe you guys can—"
"Everyone!" Ian interrupted me mid-sentence and immediately stood. "We have a request for tangible proof here. Is there anyone who dealt with a judgy family before
? Please raise your hand if you did." He looked very pleased with himself as each and everyone who was there raised their hand in the air. "Well then, Fat Don, we would love to take part in your first step toward a healthy lifestyle. If your path starts with a selfie picture that will put your mother in her place, then we'll put on a happy face and stand right behind you."
They were all so easygoing when they gathered together next to me. I won't lie. It moved me. I didn't know any of them, and yet, they felt that sending tangible proof of my presence there would strengthen me, and that made them happy.
Ian guided me in taking the perfect selfie. He explained how I should hold the camera high above me, asked me to take a few steps in front of everyone, and then told the group standing around him to shout “Fat Don.”
I stretched a fake smile on my face and didn't even look at the screen as I pressed the button and documented my being in that weight loss support evening group, but inside, I was hurting by the words they called out.
"I'm not sure I'm happy with the nickname you decided to give me. I would rather you refer to me differently," I whispered in his ear as everyone dispersed and returned their chairs. "Moreover, if you intend to call me 'Fat Don' in front of everyone else—"
"Me? Oh, I wasn’t the one who gave you that nickname."
"I realize that I said it before, but still—"
"Guys, I suggest we all go back to the meeting," Ian called out, ignoring me and addressing the group. "Don wants to introduce himself to us again." His palm landed swiftly on my shoulder, and he continued with a private whisper in my ear. "And this time, Fat Don, I suggest you introduce yourself seriously and courageously. Remember that others will treat you the way you treat yourself. You should define yourself in a way that will make you feel good if others repeat it later on."
It took thirty seconds for everyone to return to their places. I remember this accurately, as I counted the seconds that passed. Every second was a different description of myself in my head, as I was wondering which words would be right to use as I re-presented myself to them. Was I full? Thick? Funny? Rich? Pathetic? A widower? Sad? What was I?
"Don, the stage is all yours." I tried to focus on Ian's' eyes and nothing else while I had yet to decide on the way I would present myself to them the second time.
"Okay..." I cleared my throat. "So, I'm Don and I'm... Don. I guess that's it. Hello everyone, I'm Don." I breathed a sigh of relief as they all applauded and greeted me.
After that, the meeting went on regardless of my being there. Ian asked for some attendees to give him an updated report on their progress toward the goals they had set in their previous meetings, and I buried my face in my cellphone.
"There you go, Mom. Solid proof that I got out of the house. By the way, you have a warm welcome from everyone in the weight loss support meeting. Oh, also by the way, I wanted to ask. How's your conscience? I mean, now that you know you called your son a liar for no reason…"
I clicked the send button that launched my text message to her and looked again at the picture I attached.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating. I couldn't believe what I had seen. How could I miss her in the first place?
In the picture I had taken, behind everyone, near the doorway, with a confused expression, but with a look that couldn’t be ignored, I saw her. Michelle.
She wasn’t there when I arrived, that's for sure, but the next time I scanned the fatso circle, I recognized her sitting upright and rolling her eyes at something one of the other women said.
"...I swear that I didn't want to eat, but it was such a tense and disappointing day. Eating was just my immediate and easiest satisfaction," a woman in a tailor-made business suit, went on explaining her relapse. "Needless to say, I immediately felt like a complete failure. I don’t need to hear it from you guys. I've been saying it to myself ever since. I know that eating junk food is a satisfaction that leads to hours of bad conscience, but I swear I couldn't do anything else at that moment."
"You could have not eaten. Maybe next time, just don’t eat?" Michelle uttered to herself, but her voice was clearly heard by all present.
Oh, no! Damn it. Fuck! Double fucking fuck!
I didn't know how to deal with her addictive eyes when I first saw her, but when the blush colored her face as a response to the attention she received, it was like the last brush stroke of a finished beautiful piece of artwork.
"And hello to you too." Ian took advantage of the awkward silence to greet her. "May I ask who you are?"
"Um... I'm Michelle." Something in the way she moved so uncomfortably drove me crazy.
"Hello, Michelle, and welcome to our group."
"Thanks and... Sorry for what I said before."
"Don't apologize for anything." Ian smiled at her, totally calm, and I was very impressed by his way of dealing with that situation. "My name is Ian. I'm the guide of this support group and let me be the first to tell you that we stand behind the words we say, especially if they are emissions such as that."
"I appreciate it and yet…" Michelle turned to address the woman whose words she had interrupted earlier. "I apologize. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"That's perfectly fine. You didn't hurt me," the woman said with a smirk. "It's obvious that the two of us are in the same situation, so I have no reason to be offended by you."
Michelle sat upright, looking back at Ian, waiting for him to decide where and how the meeting would progress from there.
"Okay." Michelle rolled her eyes in defiance. "It looks like you're kinda full of yourself." She shot a venomous glare and narrowed her eyes as if they were aims of an imaginary rifle.
"That's right. I am very full of myself. And what are you full of, Michelle? Pizza or chocolate cake?" The woman didn’t keep quiet, and I joined all the others, who laughed at Michelle's expense.
Ian suggested that we take a few minutes and took to Michelle aside. I let them have their chat in private, though I really wanted to approach her. Instead, I went over to the stack of disposable cups next to the water bar, pulled one out, and poured myself some water.
"Can you please tell me why you're following me?" I heard her gentle voice firmly address me a few moments later and was thrilled.
"I'm sorry to tell you that you have it all wrong. It's the other way around." Her expression changed at once.
"Yes. That's right. Everything really is the other way around for me all of a sudden."
"Is everything okay?"
"No, but everything will be."
"Everything? Is there finally going to be peace on Earth? That's wonderful!" I smiled.
"I'm sorry if I sounded like a bitter, nasty woman before." She didn’t get my joke.
"Oh, no. Don't feel bad about what you said. It was an honest and wonderful moment. One that I will forever keep in my heart, beautiful Michelle."
"’Beautiful Michelle?!’" she repeated. Her laughter played like a pleasant melody that I would never tire of hearing, and I felt like I thought I would never feel again.
I knew I had only a few minutes to talk freely with her before Ian announced that the break was over, so I tried to make the conversation as deep as possible.
"Can I share a hypothesis I have about you? One that I've built in my head since I first saw you?"
"You mean since two days ago?"
"Yes." I smiled.
"Go on, share." She gestured toward me and allowed me to make sure there was no wedding ring on her finger nor a tan mark that would have suggested one had recently been removed.
"From the way you went into the morning session yesterday, and judging by the words you uttered today so wisely, can I guess that you think everyone who comes to these meetings is an absolute idiot?"
"It's not because they come to the meetings. It's because they actually are idiots but... This is more accurate about the morning people. The evening people are... They're all right."
"And how about you? Which of these groups fits you the most?"
"I guess the evening group, but I'll keep going to the morning one anyway."
"Because you don't really want to do what's best for you?"
"Because I'm the only one who knows what's best for me." Going by the way she looked at me, I seemed to have touched a sensitive and exposed nerve. "I'll go to the morning group because I believe that I'll gain more by going there."
"We're supposed to be losing something, aren’t we? You're going there to gain more?"
"I don’t have to explain myself to you." She seemed upset. "You think this is a joke, but as I said before, I'm actually going to lose the excess weight."
"That sounds amazing!" I exaggerated.
"I'm serious. It's totally going to happen."
"And I believe you!" I nodded at her. "So tell me, Michelle, can I invite you to share a sensual salad with me?" I whispered dramatically.
"First of all, yuck! And to answer your unappealing question, no."
"Why not?" I gave her my saddest, most pathetic look.
"Because I don't think you understand." She folded her arms defensively and stared at me with her beautiful eyes. "I am going to be healthy, I am going to shed the fat, and I am really going to enjoy a sensual salad in my near future."
"Then let me tell you that you're wrong."
"In what way?"
"In regard to me. I do understand. In fact, I can already see it when I look at you. For example, right now, I'm imagining you wrapped in minimal lettuce leafs while..." I paused for only a second before continuing, "Which sauce would you rather I'd fantasize smearing on you? Keep in mind, I insist on it being low fat!"
"Okay, ugh!" She giggled awkwardly. "I'm not going to date a fat guy, Don, so you can ease off all that," she finished with her hands gesturing toward me. Me. Fat Don. Sad, lonely, widowed Fat Don.
"That can actually work out just fine."
"What can?"
"You said you won't go out with a fat guy, and I'm not fat." I searched for Ian and continued loudly only after I found him. "Say, ridiculously hot group guide, am I Fat Don?"
