Auctioned to Him 4: His Addiction

by Charlotte Byrd

  April

  Even when I’m not eating, sometimes my brain default thinks about food. It makes it incredibly hard to keep the weight off and even harder to not just give up all together. I didn’t have much money, the accident put me out of work for a while, so I was struggling to get by to a point where food was scarce. I didn’t have the stamina to get a part time job on the street but also had too much pride to ask my parents for help. It didn’t take a therapist to recognize that I was a mess. This is the lowest point my life had had, and it was affecting every aspect of living.

  After the accident I couldn’t eat or sleep, and talking was even difficult. I had been driving home from a concert at night. It was a really really good day. I am thankful for that, that it was at least a great last day to have. While flipping through the stations on the radio a drunk driver coming from the opposite direction had gotten in the lane just enough to bump me. When I tried to turn the car, and keep some of it from bashing into the other drivers I over adjusted and turned it right into a tree. I was going 60 miles per hour, the other driver was going 80. He spun out and went down hard into a ditch. They tried to revive him for a few hours after, but eventually either he lost the will to live or his BAC got the better of his body.

  Even though I was the victim of that accident I had a tremendous amount of guilt. I was upset the other man died. Even if he was being a jerk, I didn’t want his family to have to deal with that loss. I was sure he was going through something bad if he had been driving after drinking. They said he was three times over the legal limit and almost bound to die anyway. When his parents visited me they told me about his life. He had found out that his wife had been cheating on him. He didn’t want to tell anyone, he wanted to keep it from his kids so that they could work it out in private. She wouldn’t admit to it and it drove him mad, making him unsure of what to do. That night they had a huge argument and he was going to finally decide to break it off. His mom was crying very very hard. She was upset that he made a dumb decision. She said he had talked about how depressed he was, and how he almost didn’t have the will to go on. She had wished she had listened better and gotten him a therapist.

  When I learned all of this instead of making me feel better it made me feel much worse. I thought of him a lot, especially after Tom called the wedding off. I should have seen it coming. He had never wanted to set a date. We had dated for six years before that, all through college and then after graduation. We were happy with each other, but when we lost the spark I knew that the engagement was a way of trying to fix a broken relationship. I swore we would both get over it, that all couples go through this kind of thing, and most do. And then it all changed with the accident. I saw him less and less. He talked stopped talking about our future, and stopped talking to me. When he broke it off I thought maybe he just needed some time away. Maybe my accident was causing us both to be depressed. It was depressing him, but he didn’t want to fix things. Instead he started a dumb new relationship last June with lady long legs.

  That’s why the worst part about all of this was the collateral damage. I gained the 70 pounds because I was bedridden and almost addicted to painkillers. As I healed I was dealing more and more with problems in my personal life, and one thing that was always there for me no matter what was food.

  When he left he never really left my life. My parents had known the Middletons before I had ever met Tom. When we started dating it just made them better friends. They all swore that it was destiny or part of some greater plan. I was foolish enough to believe it. We had a good time at the University of San Diego. I loved that he was different than me. I was incredibly expressive, I tried auditioning for plays and graduated with a major in English and Creative Writing. Tom was a Computer Scientist.

  We were really exciting to each other. He kept me thinking critically and taught me a few new things about the computer. If I ever wanted new software or couldn’t figure something out I had a professional on standby. When it came to computers I was about as useful as an 80-year-old Grandma that lived on a desert island. He liked that I was artistic and that I was a little bit insane. He told me all the time that I was the most exciting girl he had ever met.

  The more we got to know each other the less we had in common. The less we had in common the harder we had to try to make it work. Six years was a really long time to be dragged along. You don’t get dragged that long without severe carpet burns and an excellent sense of what the bottom looks like. He probably felt the same way. None of our friends liked each other. One of the few friends of mine left was Travis.

  Travis came in the door, envelope in hand, waving it above his head. I quickly tried to make it look like I wasn’t laying like a lump on the floor.

  “What’s in there?”

  “My check from that commercial a month ago,” he sang, skipping into the kitchen. Travis had worked with one of the local companies on making a commercial. He had to do really cheesy dialogue and it would air overnight, but it was still acting. He swayed back and forth, probably texting his boyfriend about the money.

  “Congrats!” I was very happy for Travis. He was getting a lot of work and doing really well in his field. It made me feel pathetic when I saw his progress in an almost impossible job field and my lack of progress in the easiest field of work.

  “So what are we eating tonight?”

  “Air. I don’t have money. I can look at your food, though. Sniff it a little maybe.” I crawled back onto the couch and hid under the blanket. “This will be good for my diet. Being broke might be the best thing to happen to me.”

  “If you don’t start cheering up I am going to force feed you cocaine.” Travis shot me daggers from his eyes. He was very motivated, happy, and athletic – my exact opposite. Instead of it helping me live a healthy life style it made me more upset at myself. “I just got paid. Dinner is on me.”

  “You really don’t have to do this, Travis. You’ve done too much for me.”

  Travis walked over to the TV and changed it to the Food Network. “Yum. Look at all that. Maybe we should have Chinese. Maybe Italian. Ooh, how about sushi?”

  “Did you ever study methods of torture?” The food on the television looked divine. When your will power is low but your bank account is lower it is hard to pass up free food. “And let’s get salad or something. I really don’t need something heavy.”

  “You deserve good food. You already lost 30 pounds. That’s amazing. You should be congratulated.”

  “I have had enough congratulations.”

  “Well, not from me.” Travis sorted through our cabinets of take out menus.

  “How does Italian sound?”

  “It sounds like the most delicious thing ever.”

  “Great, it’s settled.”

  “No, wait!” I thought about my diet. “Isn’t that super heavy in carbs?”

  “Okay, not Italian. How about Mexican?”

  “Too greasy.”

  “What about Thai?”

  “Aren’t noodles heavy in carbs?”

  “It’s food, so yes. Do you want to eat paper?”

  “I don’t want to stay fat.”

  I was not having the best day, but I was trying to be more positive. It was hard with the wedding and debt.

  “If you want I can help train you. We can get you back in shape. Then if freelancing doesn’t work out, maybe you still have some acting skills that we can get you jobs with.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Let’s start by walking to get Thai.”

  April

  “I’ll just have the water, thanks.” We sat at a table by the windows. It was a gorgeous night out. All the beautiful people were out walking, enjoying the sunshine and shopping. I envied them. One day I would have a life style that was hopefully close to theirs. I wanted to be able to write, for fun and for work. I wanted to have a nice condo or house. I wanted to have enough money to buy a meal.

  “No, we will each have a glass of Moscato.” Travis handed the menu back.
This guaranteed that I was only going to have a salad. “Alex told me that this place has the best white wines.”

  “How is it going with Alex?”

  “Best sex I have ever had.” That was enough in Travis’ book to be marriage material. He was practically a sex addict. He didn’t let it take over his life, just drive the motivation for it. “How is your freelancing going?”

  “Not great. I’ve been broke for God knows how long.”

  “Two months.”

  “Two months. I am thinking about giving it up and looking for other work.”

  “Ooh, like what? Stripping?”

  “Not with this muffin top.”

  “Where are you going to work, then?”

  I took a large drink of wine. It was almost like a juice. “I was thinking maybe doing something more mainstream. I sent my resume out to a few administrative assistant positions. I did some secretary work at USD so hopefully that is enough experience to get me into one of them.”

  “Have you heard back from any of them?”

  The waitress brought our food out. “Not yet.” My life was sadder on paper than it felt. I was sitting across from a great guy that maybe if he weren’t gay, I would date him. Too bad for me, he already had a boy toy.

  “Well, you have to keep at it. Persistence is key. I don’t do acting full time. It hardly pays the bills.”

  “You’ll make it soon. You’re getting a ton of work.”

  “Yeah, it’s going well right now, but it hasn’t always been this way. That’s why I still work as a hostess. Someday I won’t have to show people their tables; I’ll just be able to become characters.”

  “You’ll make it soon.”

  “You just said that.” We ate the dinner and I was stuffed afterwards. Travis insisted we get dessert, but I couldn’t fit another bite in me. We went back out and walked around the plaza area.

  “So how about this wedding thing?”

  “And just when I got it off my mind.”

  “Sorry. I just don’t want you to show up empty handed. You’re walking now, that’s the first step. We can get you hot before then. You can’t show up empty handed.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ll be a laughing stock.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ll look pathetic.”

  “I know.”

  “They will all feel so bad for you.”

  “Hey, yeah. I get it.”

  “So how is the dating situation going to work?” Travis and I walked into one of the boutiques. He looked at all the shoes, showing me several pairs he thought would look great on me.

  “Well, still single. My closest male friend is a gay guy that Tom would know I’m not dating.”

  I tried on a few of the heels. I was happy that they didn’t break under my weight.

  “We can’t all have ourselves so figured out. And it’s not like I have many lady friends to choose from either. Maybe I should just fake sick and stay home.”

  “They will feel even worse for you.”

  “It’s better than facing them.”

  “That’s too bad.” Travis’ hand breezed over some fabric. “Just when I had an idea.”

  “Oh?” I was beginning to get excited. I could see some of these dresses being perfect for the wedding, the empire waist slimming down my stomach and pumping up my boobs.

  “And don’t get mad about this.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “So Alex has this friend.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I think he could be a great solution.”

  “Get to the point. Who is he?”

  “Have you ever heard of an escort?”

  “Oh my god.”

  “Hear me out.”

  “No.”

  “He is really hunky.”

  “No.”

  “And he could probably get you a discount.”

  “Oh my god no.” Is this what I had become? Unable to get a date for myself and having to pay for a man to spend a weekend with me? Curling up into my bed forever had never been more appealing, not even when I was bed ridden. “I would rather die.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “What if they knew him?”

  “Then you would know that they pay for sex and you would have a leg up on them.” Travis handed me a few dresses. I wanted to throw them all at him. I wanted to hide in the racks like I was a kid again. When was my life going to stop going down hill?

  Maybe a therapist could help me with all of these things. Travis was great to talk to. He always comforted me and told me the truth. He wouldn’t sugar coat things, he knew that that was what I needed to hear. I had enough time being coddled by my friends in the hospital. He was the one that kept me realistic and reminded me that things would get better, even if they kept getting worse. That didn’t mean I didn’t hate him when he was telling me the truth.

  “That would make me want to die. I want to die. Kill me.”

  “Shut up, April. Try this on. It’s your color.”

  It was my color. It made me look slim. Maybe if I kept my hair down and contoured a lot I could look like I used to.

  “Is he hot?”

  “He gets paid to have sex. I would hope so.”

  “I would too.”

  “Do I hear you considering this idea?” Travis sang from outside the dressing room.

  “Definitely not.” He tossed a few more dresses over, I could already rule out a few of them. “These are all too low cut.”

  “Show off your new boobs.”

  “That’s a bit trashy.”

  “No it isn’t. But it will make him upset he didn’t stick around for them.” He slid some shoes under the door. “We have to get you a makeover. You’ll need a push-up bra or two.”

  We walked back home, twenty minutes there. We passed several beautiful people and too many of them were couples, holding hands. For too long I believed in true love. I wanted to play red rover and run through their locked fingers. I was already old and cynical but only twenty-seven. I was going to age fast and become a very bitter lonely old lady. I wish I liked cats. Then I would have something to love. Now I was just a failure of a freelancer and even bigger failure of a writer. My professors all said I had promise, but I didn’t see any of that.

  When Travis and I got back we popped in a movie. I couldn’t pay attention to it, too much was going through my mind. It was getting harder and harder to find joy in simple daily things. I couldn’t even watch a movie without it reminding me of all the stresses in my life. Travis kept drinking wine and steadily became very tipsy. Eventually he passed out on the couch. I wish I had a bottle of wine. I wish I could fall asleep like a rock.

  I checked my email again. No new messages. I looked online for job postings. Maybe I could just work at McDonalds to pay the bills. Once I made actual money I could get a liposuction or maybe buy diet pills that actually worked.

  April

  My room was really warm and I curled up in my bed. This was the safest place on earth for me. I could hide here forever and be okay. My phone vibrated in my pajama pocket. It was my mom, the last person I wanted to talk to. I answered it anyway.

  “April, dear, you look awful.”

  “Thanks mom.”

  “Sorry. Are you sick?”

  “No. I’m just not wearing makeup.”

  “Oh… Well…”

  “It’s nighttime, mom.”

  “Doesn’t mean you should stop trying. I wanted to see how you are.”

  “Not just make me feel awful?”

  “Of course not. You know I care. I was there the whole time you were broken by that awful drunk driver.”

  “I know, mom.”

  “Which was over a year ago. It’s never too late to get back in shape, honey.”

  “I already feel shitty enough, mom.”

  “Sorry, sorry.” She fell silent for a moment and straightened her dress. “I’ll change the subject. I will be going to a garden and tea party tomorr
ow. Guess who will be there.”

  “Who?”

  “Mrs. Middleton. That woman took my month to do it. She knew it was my turn to host, and yet here she is. As if the wedding wasn’t party enough for her.” My mom and Tom’s mom were the kind of friends that hated each other. I heard enough of it when I was together with Tom, hearing it when I was lonely was much worse. It served as a reminder of my past.

  “I don’t even think I can go to that wedding, Mom.”

  “What!?” My mom began messing with her hair frantically. “You must. There is no way you aren’t going to this party. They stuck with you when you were in the hospital, it’s the least you could do.”

  “I feel bad enough for not going, you don’t have rub it in my face too.”

  “You’re going. If you don’t go they will know you are still upset, and then they will blame me, and it will be an absolute mess.”

  “I really don’t want to go a fat, lonely slob.”

  “The Middletons are our oldest friends. You aren’t going to ruin our friendship with them.”

  “You and dad don’t even like them anymore. You were just bitching about her.”

  “Watch your language.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And your father still likes Roger.”

  “No he doesn’t. They argue all the time.”

  “It’s like politics, dear. They are having lively discussions.”

  “No, they argue about dumb things like who knows more about what and what is the classiest this and that.”

  “That’s politics.”

  “I don’t think a friendship would be ruined if I couldn’t make it to a wedding party.”

  “Clearly you don’t know the Middletons anymore.”

  I sighed. I really didn’t know them anymore, but I had known their family well enough when I was on my way to be part of it. There was no arguing with my mom, she always had to be right, another thing that her and Denise had in common. They should be best friends. I quickly tried to change the subject. I didn’t want every time I talked to my mom to be having to hear her complain and nag. She was only like this because I wasn’t at home for her to keep a close eye on. I never really got to see her, and I saw my dad even less. “I miss dad.”