by Jeff Erno
Benjy laughed as he wiped his eyes with his fingertips. “I’m not so sure about the last part.”
“I’m going to pull off at this rest area. It’s the last one for, like, fifty miles.” He pulled onto the exit and slowed the car as they approached the parking section. “Let’s just have fun this weekend, okay?” He pulled in and turned off the ignition, then directed his full attention to Benjy. “No worries about gaming or work or weddings or being gay.”
Benjy grinned. “Or being fat.”
Oliver couldn’t help himself; he smiled. “Or being fat. But that doesn’t mean I’m going off my diet.”
“Thanks, Ollie.”
Oliver took a deep breath, wanting to lean in or possibly to reach out—to connect with his best friend physically. Instead he looked into Benjy’s eyes for a few bated seconds. “Anytime, Benjy.” He turned and grabbed the door handle before sliding out of his seat.
Chapter Five
“OH, MY God! Let me get a look at you. Ollie, you look so… so gaunt, so peaked. You’re so thin!”
Oliver, standing in front of his mother as she held on to his shoulders, smiled as he looked into her eyes. “Mom, I’m not peaked. I lost fifty pounds, and that’s a good thing.”
“You must be starving.”
Just then his dad cut in, patting Oliver on the shoulder. “Son, you look great.”
They stood by the car, on the driver’s side, and Benjy walked around, waiting and smiling as he stood at the front of the vehicle.
“Mom, Dad, this is my friend Benjy.”
“Oh, isn’t he adorable!” His mother held her hand over her heart.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Paxton.”
“Ed and Betty,” she corrected. “And you, Mister, could stand to put on a few pounds yourself.”
“Mom, is it your goal to make the whole world fat?”
She stared at him, clearly crushed, but then smiled. “Yes, dear. That’s exactly my goal. Keep them well-fed, and they won’t have either the time or energy to fight… or to give me any shit.” Oliver grinned, realizing he’d struck a nerve. “But for the record, you are not fat. Far from it, especially now.”
Oliver gave Benjy a knowing glance. For some reason, his mother did not see him as overweight. She never had. And no matter how much he ate, it didn’t seem enough to satisfy her.
“How’d you do it, Ollie?” His dad had stepped to the rear of the SUV and was retrieving their bags. “How’d you take off all that weight?”
“Well, I’m still working on it.” Oliver walked over and took one of the two bags from his dad. “We can get these, Dad.”
“Don’t be silly. Well, you look like a brand-new b—young man. I’m proud of you, son.”
“Thanks, Dad. Mostly it’s been dieting, but I’ve started exercising, and I meet with a personal trainer this coming week.” If he ever got up the nerve to make the call, that was. “I actually bought these clothes from a normal store at the mall. I didn’t have to special order them like I used to.”
His mother, oblivious to their conversation, had focused her attention on Benjy. “Do you have a girlfriend down there in the city?” Oliver wanted to intervene, save his friend, but Benjy seemed to be handling himself.
“I’m so busy with work, ya know. That’s how I met Ollie. We work together.”
“And you call him Ollie.” She spoke almost to herself. “I knew you would.” She placed her arm around Benjy’s shoulders and led him toward the house. “You must be famished after that long drive.”
“I really am, ma’am. I’m starving.”
“Well, you came to the right place!”
Oliver had to stifle a laugh as his mom all but bolted for the door, ushered Benjy inside, and directed him to the kitchen.
Interestingly, Benjy seemed to instantly bond with Oliver’s mother, and he helped her finish up with the meal preparation in the kitchen while Oliver toted the luggage to their respective rooms and settled in with his dad in the living room. His dad had a sporting event on TV, probably the Detroit Tigers. Since Oliver didn’t really follow baseball, he picked up one of the magazines his mom had placed on the coffee table. “You guys subscribe to the Advocate?” Why were his parents subscribing to the national LGBT news magazine?
His dad looked up. “Your mother does. Has some interesting articles.”
“You know, you can get an online subscription a lot cheaper.”
His dad shrugged. “Your mother and me, we’re not high tech like the younger generation. You, with your computers, just confuse old folks like us.”
“You’re not even fifty, Dad.”
“I turned fifty last year. Don’t you remember the big party?” Oliver did remember now that his father mentioned it, but he hadn’t been able to attend. He had been in school, and to be honest, he didn’t feel like subjecting himself to all the gawking and furtive comments about his weight.
“I’m sorry I missed it, Dad.” Though he admired his father, barriers separated them on so many levels. He was gay, and his dad was straight. He’d always been obese, not exactly the athlete his dad had probably imagined he’d turn out to be. Oliver was a computer nerd, and his dad had been foreman at the same factory for the past thirty years. Oliver had been the first person from either side of the family to graduate with a college degree, and probably the first to be “openly” queer.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now. Finally.” His father cleared his throat. “This young man you brought with you….”
“Benjy.”
“Is he…?”
“He’s just a friend. We’re coworkers, and he’s been really supportive of me these past few months. Without his help, I’m not sure I’d have succeeded in losing this much weight, not that I don’t still have a long ways to go.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You should be proud of your progress.”
“I know.” He sighed as he stared at the TV. How could it be, in the twenty-first century, his parents still had a console? The square picture seemed odd compared to the rectangular flat-screens Oliver was used to watching. “People still look at me, and all they see is my fat.”
“That’s not true.” His father frowned. “Your mother and I—”
“You two see me differently than most people, especially Mom. She still thinks I’m her precious little baby, but I’m not. I’m all grown up now. I’ve grown up and out. Look at me—I’m as big as a house.” He glanced down at his belly, which protruded in front of him. At close to three hundred pounds, his tummy still formed a shelf when he sat upright. He still couldn’t cross his legs at the knees or bend over to touch his toes. Even putting on socks became a challenge.
“People are shallow.” His dad seemed to be talking to the empty room, not looking directly at Oliver. “But as we get older, we change. Things like physical appearance matter a whole lot less.”
Oliver shook his head. In so many ways, his dad defied the stereotype of a small-town factory worker. He didn’t act or talk like a redneck, like so many of his coworkers. Maybe that’s how he got the foreman position. Oliver often wondered if given a different set of circumstances, his father might have achieved far greater things in life.
“I’m not sure that’s true, Dad. Some people are superficial their whole lives.”
“True, but who gives a fuck about those people?”
Oliver raised his eyebrows and resisted the urge to grin. It wasn’t like his dad to swear, let alone drop the f-bomb.
“You have your friend.” He cocked his head toward the kitchen, indicating his reference to Benjy. “You have your job, and that other girl, the one who just got married.”
“Amanda.”
“And you have your family. Why do you care what some stranger says or thinks about how you look?”
“It’s not just my looks, though. I can’t do things normal people can do. Dad, I’m too fat to even go to an amusement park. I don’t fit in the rides. I have to buy two seats when I book an airl
ine flight. And you don’t even want to see my fat ass on a bike.”
His dad grinned. “I’m not exactly Mr. Universe myself.”
“You’re nowhere near my size. You never have been.” His father was perhaps twenty to thirty pounds overweight, and it was hardly noticeable, especially compared to Ollie. His mom, on the other hand, was a bit heavier, but even she wasn’t what he’d categorize as “obese.”
“We’re not going to care what your weight is, never.” His dad looked directly into his eyes. “Don’t let something like that keep you away from us. Ollie, being gone so long nearly broke your mother’s heart.”
The sting of tears threatened to flood Oliver’s eyes, and he gulped to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard coming back here. I get that you’re proud I got my degree and all, but….”
“You’re embarrassed.”
“When I see people from this town, and I notice how they look at me and stare, wondering exactly how fat I’m going to get before I… before I die, or before I end up on one of those shows, My 600-lb Life or Biggest Loser….”
“Ollie, you’re nowhere near that size.”
“But I’m on course—or I was—to become that huge. Dad, I’d gained over fifty pounds since I graduated high school. What you see now is the same me that left this town five years ago. After all this work, months of dieting, I’m down only to my original fat self that I was when I finished high school.”
“But now you’re on track, you’re actually losing, and a few months from now you’ll be even smaller.”
“I just get so discouraged.”
“But you said your friend is helping you.”
Oliver nodded. “I came back here, not to show off my progress. Not even to get your approval. I came to let you and Mom know that I want a different life. I want a whole new me, a person not defined by my obesity.”
“You didn’t need to come back here to declare that, son. You know your mom and I have always wanted what’s best for you. We only want you to be happy, and if losing weight will help you along the way, we support you.”
“And it’s better for my health. I feel so much more energized after just losing this much.”
Benjy came through the archway and stopped by Oliver’s chair. “Mom said to tell you dinner’s ready.”
“Mom? You call her ‘Mom’ now?” Oliver looked up, smiling.
“She told me to, said she would adopt me. I told her about my folks.”
Oliver gulped. “Really? What did she say?”
“She hugged me, said I was welcome in your family.”
“That totally sounds like something she’d say.” Oliver and his dad pushed themselves up from their chairs and followed Benjy to the dining room. “Oh. My. God.” Oliver stared at the massive spread of food that extended from one end of the rectangular table to the other. “This is like Thanksgiving.”
His mother suddenly appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and dining area, holding a cream pie that had at least six inches of meringue on top. “Have a seat everyone. Dinner is served!”
WITH A Scrabble board between them, the foursome sat around the kitchen table, recovering from the massive feast. Oliver had managed to stick fairly close to his diet, splurging a little compared to his normal routine, yet still fastidiously counting his total calories. He passed on all the desserts, gravies, and anything he wasn’t sure of the calorie count. His mother’s sighs and disdainful glares were countered quickly by Benjy, who jumped right in and asked for extra-large helpings of each item Oliver had declined.
In spite of his effort to moderate his eating, Oliver felt stuffed. Over the previous three months, he’d effectively shrunk the size of his stomach. He felt bloated, in need of exercise, and more than once almost excused himself to go for a walk. He didn’t want to walk the streets of his hometown, though. Not even late in the evening. If he were at home, he’d be in the garage, burning off every bit of fat he’d consumed.
But the Scrabble game had proven much more fun than he’d have expected. His dad broke open a six-pack of beer, and his mom and Benjy were sharing a bottle of cheap wine. Oliver drank bottled water in spite of his parents’ assurances he’d be okay to imbibe just a little. Benjy sat in the kitchen chair, with one leg tucked under his butt, looking all serious as he sipped his wine and examined his rack of tiles. When he played the word SHIT, Oliver started to object, then saw that Benjy wasn’t done. He had used the S to form a new word off of HIT but was also playing the word COWARDS vertically. He’d used every one of his tiles.
“Bingo!”
“You little shit!” His mother gasped.
“Well, that’s one of the words he played,” Oliver’s father pointed out. “Is that even legal?”
“No. It’s cheating!” Oliver tried to sound as indignant as possible.
“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it.” Benjy took a sip of his wine, grinning.
“Fine!” Oliver’s mom spun the board in her direction. “If you can play naughty, then so can I.” Oliver’s mouth dropped open as his mom slapped the tiles onto the board one at a time. BLOWJOBS intersected with the W in COWARDS to form a brand-new bingo. “Bingo!” she shouted. “And don’t forget my fifty bonus points.”
Benjy instantly face-palmed, laughing his ass off, while Oliver felt his cheeks blaze like a campfire. “Mom! You didn’t!”
“What? We’re all adults here, aren’t we?”
Benjy’s laughter, bubbly and infectious, got the whole table cackling. “I can’t wait to see what your husband plays!” Benjy turned to Oliver’s father. “Do you two need a little private time?”
Oliver’s dad sat up straight in his chair, his own face red as a beet. “I might just have to get out our toy box.”
“Edward!” His mother guffawed. “You hush your mouth.”
“Toy box?” Benjy threw a hand over his mouth, guffawing as he grabbed the edge of the table with his other hand. “Do you have toys in there that require batteries?”
“Mom, don’t answer that!” Oliver couldn’t believe his ears. His parents had never behaved like this. They were both cracking up, though, and his mother didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed.
“Oliver, I’d have never expected you to be more of a prude than me, your mother.” She pointed to the tablet next to Oliver. “Go on, record my score. Benjy’s too. And then it’s your turn.”
“Fine!” He quickly calculated the scores and wrote them down, then played his word on the board.
Benjy stared in disbelief. “You can’t play that. That’s five points, just three letters.” He slapped his hand on the table, laughing.
“Hey, I refuse to lower myself to your level and play smut words.” He stared at his three-letter word, CAT, with pride, and spun the board to his father. “It’s your turn, Dad.”
“I just have one question,” his dad said in all seriousness. “Did you play CAT because you don’t have the letters to play PUSSY?”
With that, Benjy and Oliver’s mom flew into a fit of hysterics, and Oliver, utterly humiliated, slumped over against the table, burying his face in his arms. “I give up.” He moaned miserably, then finally looked up to make eye contact with a very giddy Benjy, smiling.
“WHAT DID my mom say when you told her about your folks?” Oliver and Benjy had decided on a late-night walk downtown. Of course, nothing was open in the small rural town. His parents didn’t live far from the business district, which consisted of two intersecting streets, and they strolled through town and made their way down to the waterside in the solitude of a warm summer night. After walking about three miles, they at last made their way back to the house, and the moon shone brightly overhead. Benjy seemed to be glowing himself, perhaps from the three glasses of wine he’d consumed.
“Um… she cried, actually. And that made me feel like crap.”
“She cried ’cause it’s a sad story. I can’t believe your parents disowned you.”
Benjy no
dded and took a few steps up the sidewalk toward the porch.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come out to you,” Oliver finally said. He stood a few feet back, still cloaked in the darkness. He didn’t want to look Benjy in the eye. “I’m sure she mentioned I’m also gay.”
Benjy looked down at the pavement, with Oliver still a couple steps away from him. Finally, Benjy looked up. “Can you hear that?” His voice was barely a whisper. “It’s my heart beating. I’m sure you can hear it clear over there.”
“Benjy….” Oliver took a step closer.
“For the past two months, I’ve fantasized about telling you about myself. I imagined that I’d come out to you, and you’d say you were the same way, you were gay too. And then….”
Oliver’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light, and as he stared at Benjy’s smooth, boyish face, he saw the tears streaking down his cheeks. He moved even closer, reaching out to frame Benjy’s face with his palms. Leaning in, he kissed him softly, just a gentle peck against his soft lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t tell… anyone.”
“Oh, Ollie.” Benjy stared into his eyes.
“I’m more than twice as big as you. You’re cute. You’re… sexy. And I’m a big blob.”
“Ollie, you’re not.”
Oliver pulled away. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come here.” He turned away and raced up the steps, then quickly pulled open the front door and charged inside. He hurried up the staircase, into his bedroom, and closed the door behind him.
Slumping onto the bed in the darkness, Oliver buried his face in his hands, weeping. What had he just done? And why? Why’d he just kiss Benjy, and why did he then push him away? They weren’t right for each other. A guy like himself, so big and fat, could never be with a cute, skinny little guy like Benjy. What was he thinking, and why’d he do something so stupid?
He walked over to the bathroom, located on the far side of the bedroom, and flipped on the overhead light. Stepping inside, he looked up at his reflection. He saw a wide, puffy face and a fat neck. He saw huge pillows of fat couching his pectorals, giving him embarrassing man boobs. He saw a round, flabby body that made him want to puke. Everything about him the exact opposite of Benjy, and he was reminded once more how wrong this whole trip had been.
