Once There Was a Fat Girl

by Cynthia Baxter

  Martha became aware that Eddie’s presence filled the entire Riverside Coffee Shop. It was as if he were an actor in a movie, and his image was the size of the silver screen. Larry Fisher suddenly seemed a million miles away, and she knew that when Eddie leaned over to kiss her, she would comply.

  She liked kissing him, she was relieved to discover. It was still the same. The security was there: Larry and the thin girl had not destroyed that. They were still a couple, a team. They were Martha and Eddie, carrying on the hallowed tradition of Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra, Ozzie and Harriet. They belonged together. It was Fate.

  Things were, at last, resolved.

  “There,” Eddie said, sliding back into his own seat, attacking his cold French fries with newfound enthusiasm. “Now everything is back to normal.”

  As he continued chattering on about the toilet paper revolution, Martha sat in silence. She felt completely dazed. She was not sure what had happened. All she knew was that she felt as if she had put on a comfortable old pair of shoes, and was desperately trying to ignore the fact that there was a tiny pebble in the bottom.

  * * * *

  Let there be light.

  Martha was aware, even in her semiconscious state, that daylight flooded the room. The pink glow of her closed eyelids told her so. It was morning, again.

  Let there be fresh coffee brewing. -

  Coffee always smelled so rich, so inviting, so brown. God had known that human beings, even in His own image, would be basically lazy and would need a strong incentive to lure them out of their beds every morning. So He had supplied the world with coffee beans and the Melitta people.

  Let there be the distant sound of the Beach Boys, scolding her for not being a California girl. But Martha took no offense at the blond Adonises who were tucked into the radio. Their sound was too pretty, and Martha was prepared to forgive.

  “Rise and shine,” Judy called cheerfully, padding in from the bedroom. “Another day, another dollar.”

  Martha had no choice but to pronounce herself officially awake. Once she had done so, she was forced to take a look at herself and remember her situation. The “herself” part was fine: she lay sprawled across Judy’s couch, one leg dangling dangerously above Ralph, Judy’s kitten, the other tucked between an empty gallon jug of cheap white wine and an A&W root beer mug. Her clothes were heaped on the floor, and she wore a gingham housecoat that looked like an Ethel Mertz reject from 1956.

  The “situation” part was not quite as innocuous. The reason she was spread out on Judy’s couch, instead of her own Castro convertible, was Last Night. She felt that Last Night had been significant, but she was having difficulty remembering why.

  “Is wine fattening?” she croaked. That much, at least, she could remember.

  Judy, a vision of freshness in a kelly green and white Laura Ashley creation that made her look like Mary Poppins’ second cousin, sat down on the edge of the couch. Both Ralph and Martha’s feet nestled against her, as if both were able to sense that there was some comfort emanating from Judy’s thigh.

  “Given the circumstances of last night, I would say that your fat cells all got together and decided that you deserved a treat. I won’t tell Irma if you won’t.”

  “I suspect that Irma Gold is one of the more understanding figures in my life right now,” Martha said morosely. “I’m back together with Eddie again, aren’t I?”

  “It looks that way.”

  “But I haven’t told Larry yet, have I?”

  “Nope. Not yet.”

  “Does that make me a hussy?”

  Judy grimaced. “Hardly. I think it just makes you confused.”

  “I’m confused,” Martha moaned. “I’m loved by too many people.”

  “That’s one way to look at it. But you won’t be loved by Mr. Shaw and your cohorts at AmFoods if you don’t get yourself on the Number 31 bus pretty darn fast.”

  “Ugh. What time is it?”

  “We have time. I always get up early to make sure there’s enough time for coffee and cottage cheese.”

  “I don’t think I can face work today. I’m tempted to play hooky.”

  Judy pushed Ralph away gently and stood up, stretching. “I don’t blame you. It’s a beautiful day, too.”

  She went into the bedroom and turned up the radio. “It’s so nice when Jane is out of town. She left at dawn to go to the airport. Living with her reminds me of living with my mother. I wish her company would send her to Corpus Christi every week. Or better yet, transfer her there for good.”

  Martha glanced around at the shiny wood floors, the framed silk-screen prints, the Tiffany-style lamp that hung over the table. “This is a lovely apartment,” she remarked. “You two have done a lot with it.”

  “Correction: I’ve done a lot with it. Jane’s only contributions are the newspapers on the floor and the dust on the tables. And on top of her distaste for cleanliness,” she pouted, scooping the kitten up off the couch and cuddling him against her cheek, “she yells at Ralphie.”

  “I’ve thought about living alone, but I think I’d get lonely. Besides, there’s nothing inherently offensive about my roommates. They’re just there all the time.”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s that simple. Everybody has little idiosyncrasies that can be annoying. It’s just a question of finding someone whose weird habits are compatible with your own. Come, coffee’s on.”

  Martha and Judy sat at the tiny round table, which was covered with a bright yellow cloth. Judy served the steaming coffee in a cream-colored ceramic coffee set. Cottage cheese and toast had been arranged on a matching platter.

  “This is beautiful!” Martha exclaimed.

  “I appreciate the little things in life,” Judy explained. “I’m glad you do too. Hey, Martha,” she said suddenly, “why don’t we live together?”

  “That’s the second invitation I’ve had in the past twenty-four hours,” Martha noted. “But somehow, I’m more flattered by this one.” She thought for a few seconds. “You know, that’s a terrific idea!”

  “Yes,” Judy said, growing excited. “I’m surprised we didn’t think of it sooner. We could find a two-bedroom place...”

  “I could have a room, instead of just a couch!” Martha interrupted.

  “Maybe we could even try living in a new neighborhood, like the Village or Murray Hill...”

  “Or the Upper West Side. Near the Park, even!”

  “Oh, Marty, this is great! We’d have so much fun! And we could decorate, and paint the kitchen bright yellow...”

  “And buy fresh flowers all the time...”

  “And put up blue-and-white Laura Ashley wallpaper in the bathroom!”

  “This Laura Ashley business is a side of you I’ve never seen before. My Aunt Natalie would love you!”

  “See, I’m just an old-fashioned girl at heart,” Judy blushed. “It’s tiring to be modern all the time.”

  “Well, this has really made my day,” Martha said happily, digging into a piece of Grossinger’s rye toast smeared with cottage cheese. “At last Larry and I can have some privacy.”

  “You mean Eddie and you.”

  “Oh dear.” Martha set down her toast. “I’d forgotten that my life was complicated again.”

  “That’s how it is when you’re the most popular girl on the block,” Judy shrugged. “Just remember one thing, Marty: it’s your decision. Men sometimes have a way of helping you forget that.”

  Judy stood up and piled her dishes into the sink. “I’ll finish my coffee while I get dressed. Are you sure you’re not coming to work? I could lend you whatever you need.”

  “I could use some clean underwear, whether I go to work or not. I don’t feel like going home.”

  “Where are you going? What are you going to do today?” Judy called in from the bedroom, after she had snapped off the radio and the only music was the chirping of those few hearty birds who had managed to discover the treelike growth that lurked outside of Judy’s wind
ow. Ralph, slinking around Martha’s ankles, was still too young to appreciate what birds are all about.

  “There’s always Bloomingdale’s. Or the new Robert Altman film. Or... wait! I know. I’ll have my hair permed!”

  Judy returned to the kitchen, armed with the rest of her clothes. “Fantastic! Finally! I always wondered whether you’d really do it.”

  “It’s just what I need: a new look to celebrate my new life-style. I’m going to have a room.”

  “‘A Room of One’s Own,’” Judy quoted distractedly, engaged in unraveling the mysteries of panty hose that have just emerged from a plastic egg.

  “Funny you should say that. I remember Larry was reading that when I first met him... but I guess Larry’s out of the picture now, isn’t he?”

  “You know, I could never understand why women were only supposed to go out with one guy at a time,” Judy remarked. “Even in high school, one date with Harry Higgenbottom, and, whammo, you were pegged as Harry’s girl. What ever happened to the Katy Keene method of dating eight guys at a time?”

  “Eddie and I are practically engaged, though,” Martha said defensively. “At least, we were before.”

  Judy rinsed off her coffee cup and hung it on a little hook under the cabinet. “I’ll never understand men,” she sighed. “Or the effect they have on women.”

  “I do love Eddie, you know,” Martha said, more to Ralph than to Judy.

  Ralph purred and Judy nodded. “Look, kid. I have to leave now. World Air beckons. When I come home, I expect a new Martha to be waiting for me.”

  “I’ll be a new Martha all right. I’ll be a curly Martha, with lots of fullness and body. But I’m not sure if I’ll be here. I have to go back to the real world. I can’t hide in your apartment forever.” She thoughtfully played with her spoon, dunking it in and out of her coffee,

  making tiny splashes. “I have to call Larry, for one thing.”

  “Okay, Marty. Do whatever you have to do. Just keep me posted. And,” Judy called over her shoulder as she unlocked the front door, “don’t let them take too much off in the front! If God had wanted us to have bangs, he wouldn’t have created barrettes!”

  Chapter 10

  “Happy birthday.” Lisa cried.

  “Happy birthday!” Betsy squealed.

  Martha stood in the doorway of her apartment, clutching the copy of Cosmopolitan she had bought just minutes before as a hedge against the possibility that no one would have remembered her birthday, or, worse yet, that no one would have cared. Obviously, Betsy and Lisa had remembered.

  Martha stepped into the living room and bit her lip. The butcher block table that served as kitchen table, dining room table, desk, and, in earlier, leaner years, ironing board, was covered with a pink paper tablecloth. A cascade of pink and white balloons hung from the ceiling, bobbing precariously over a lovely Miss Grimble marble cheesecake. In Betsy’s handwriting were the words “Happy Birthday, Martha!” in pink icing. So predictable, yet so moving. Two packages, bath wrapped in pink and white paper and loopy pink bows, framed the cake like bookends.

  “We decided to go with a pink and white theme,” Betsy explained, hugging Martha. “Birthdays always remind me of little girls’ parties.”

  “We debated over the cheesecake for weeks,” Lisa smiled. “We knew that Irma Gold would never approve. But a birthday is a birthday, and Miss Grimble won in the end.”

  “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to,” Betsy went on. “I mean, we won’t be insulted. But, God, everybody has to have a birthday cake!”

  Martha was trying very hard not to cry. An hour before, she had left work, exuberant over the chocolate cake Shirley and the others had surprised her with at the end of their thank-God-it’s-Friday lunch at Mason’s. And now this. Martha concluded that it was in times of illness, poverty, and birthdays that you find out who your friends really are.

  “Open your presents! Open them!” Betsy thrust the two packages at Martha. Her eyes glowed with excitement as she watched Martha unwrap the carefully wrapped boxes, a trademark of Lisa’s precision.

  Betsy’s gift was a collection of shampoos and conditioners, whose magical properties were ensured by the appearance of a famous hairstylist’s name on the bottles. “To go with your curly new hair,” Betsy explained gleefully. Lisa’s was a cream-colored silk blouse, “To go with your sleek new body.”

  “Wait. Before you cut the cake, we have another surprise for you,” Lisa warned.

  “Are you ready?” Betsy looked as if she were about to pop out of her skin. “Eddie called. He just flew in from Cincinnati, where that big toilet paper account is. He’s taking you to dinner at the Russian Tea Room!”

  Lisa nodded. Even she was impressed, Martha noted. “He’ll be here at eight.”

  “I-I’ve never been there. I don’t know what to wear!”

  “You could wear your new blouse,” Betsy suggested.

  “You could borrow anything of mine, if you want,” Lisa offered.

  Martha was amazed at this kind, considerate aspect of her roommates’ personalities. She wondered if perhaps they had guessed that her days as a member of the trio were fast coming to an end.

  “We had been planning to take you out, before Eddie called,” Betsy said. “But we were thinking more along the lines of Mexico Magico than the Russian Tea Room.”

  As Martha scrunched up the pile of wrinkled wrapping paper and stuffed it into a trash can, the doorbell rang. She opened the door to a solid mass of Snoopy wrapping paper.

  “Happy birthday!” the package said, and Martha, recognizing the voice, realized that Judy was in some way associated with it. She came in and set the huge parcel on the floor. She beamed at Martha and said, “So this is it, kid! We’ll make this the best year so far!”

  “What is it?” Betsy asked, eyeing the package excitedly.

  “I feel I should apologize for the wrapping paper. When you’re wrapping tricycle-sized presents, you end up having to use wrapping paper geared to the tricycle set.”

  “I like Snoopy,” Martha said. “We have a lot in common.”

  “Open it!” Betsy demanded. “I can’t stand the suspense.”

  “What ever happened to the old school of birthdays?” Lisa asked. “Before you could open presents, you were forced to play pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. Then came the cake. And then the presents.”

  “Remember those little paper cups your mother would fill with candy?” Judy said wistfully. “M&M’s and Tootsie Rolls...”

  “And those little Hershey candy bars.”

  “I wish I belonged to Thin, Incorporated,” Betsy remarked. “It seems to make you really appreciate food!”

  “We do tend to get carried away,” Judy grinned.

  Martha knelt down on the floor and began tearing the Snoopy paper off the package.

  “It’s an igloo!” Betsy exclaimed.

  “Better. Igloos are seasonal. This can be used year-round.”

  “Oooh! A chair! A wicker chair!”

  “It’s gorgeous!” Martha breathed. “Thank you, Judy!”

  “It’s for our new apartment,” Judy explained.

  Betsy and Lisa exchanged glances. “What new apartment?” Lisa asked cautiously. “Have we been evicted?”

  “Sorry,” Judy gulped. “I thought this was old news by now.”

  “No, it’s okay. I had to tell them eventually. Bets, Lisa, I’ve decided to move out. I know that when we all moved in here we couldn’t afford to pay much rent, but now I think we’re all doing a bit better. Judy and I are looking for a place together.” Martha crumpled a piece of Snoopy paper into a ball and clenched it, waiting for the worst.

  Instead, Lisa’s face softened. “Well, that sounds like an excellent idea. I don’t even think we need to find a new roommate. Do you, Betsy? We could probably afford to split the rent two ways now.”

  “Oh, I’m so relieved!” Martha breathed. “I thought you’d kill me!”

  “Well, we can hardly bla
me you. Everyone needs a room of their own,” Lisa said. Martha felt a twinge of sadness as she thought of Larry. They had talked about her birthday weeks before, and now, he wouldn’t even be here to give her a birthday kiss.

  “Eddie’s taking Martha to the Russian Tea Room!” Betsy chirped. “Isn’t that exciting? She’d better bring us all matchbooks.”

  “Let’s cut the cake,” Lisa suggested. “Here are the candles. You’ll have some, Judy, won’t you?”

  “Sure. To celebrate Martha’s birthday. I’ll just have to confess when I get to Irma Gold’s next week.”

  “I’ll turn off the lights,” Betsy offered.

  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” sang three different voices in three different keys. “Happy birthday, dear Martha, happy birthday to you!”

  As Martha blew out the candles, the telephone rang.

  “Ooh,” Betsy groaned. “It’d better not be the magazine salesman!”

  “I’ll get it.” Lisa reached for the phone. “I’m better at lying than you guys are. Hello? Oh, hello, Mrs. Nowicki. Yes, she’s right here.” Lisa handed the phone over to Martha.

  “Go ahead and cut the cake. I’ll be right there. Hi, Ma!”

  “Hello, Martha! Happy birthday!”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Did you get the present I sent?”

  “Yes. Thanks a lot. I’ve never belonged to the Cheese of the Month Club before.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad they notified you in time. Did the cake arrive yet?”

  “What cake?”

  “I ordered a gorgeous birthday cake from a gourmet shop in your neighborhood. It should be there by now.”

  “It hasn’t come yet. But I’m sure it will. I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

  “What are you doing to celebrate?”

  “Right now I’m having a cake... I mean, some friends are here.” She could hear Judy and Betsy giggling in the kitchen.

  “Did you get any presents?”

  “I got a really neat chair.”

  “A chair. How interesting. How about Eddie?”

  “He’s taking me out to dinner tonight.”