by Alona Jarden
"Look, I'm not arguing the fact that you're an annoying, hysterical person, but that's your only crime, Michelle."
"I think I'm going to talk to him today and straighten things out."
"If you want to straighten things out with someone you owe an apology to, you might want to start with the person looking back at you in the mirror." She looked straight at me when she said those words for the millionth time. "You should have set yourself some boundaries, I'll give you that. You should have been more aware of what was going on, and you definitely should have breathed deep before reacting or jumping to conclusions, but that's all in regards to that morning's event. If you're talking about the day before, you did just fine. Him, on the other hand..."
"Here we go again." I rolled my eyes.
"You know what? No!" She folded her arms. "I won't say it again. You know very well what I have to say about him. You've heard it several times in the past week."
"I know, I know." Suddenly I wasn’t so sure of myself. "Though can you explain it to me one last time?"
"Why? Why do you need to hear the words again? I know that deep down, you feel the same."
"Um..."
"Michelle!" She pounded her fist on her desk, startling me with the intensity of her emotions, so I paused and just stared at her for a few long moments, debating what would be the right thing to say. I kept so many details of what had happened to myself, yet I thought I would be better off keeping it like that.
When I think of a way to describe the days that had passed, only one sentence came to mind, and that’s a quote from times of war. I remembered how the news announcer said, 'Our forces sustained a very hard week,' and that's how I would also describe the roller coaster that week felt like.
The first guy who showed a real interest in me, left my apartment after I called him a rapist. For the first few days following, I was still angry, but as time went by, it was hard to keep on feeling that way. Images and snippets of memories came back, and in none of them did he force me to do anything or use my drunkenness to get his way with me, like I accused him of doing.
With every word I came to remember, with every place he rested his hands that came back to me, with every kiss or look that returned to my consciousness, I realized that all he did was exactly what I asked of him. I was clear-minded, and I asked him for a do-over. All he did was make me feel wanted and loved, yet I called him a rapist, and the scruples of conscience were not late to arrive.
It took me two days to come to the conclusion that with his absence from my life, I couldn't concentrate on my new healthy path, and I found it hard to walk it as fiercely as I did before.
The madness of that week or so started with the realization that I had to address him. I wanted to talk with him calmly and explain where the confusion between us came from, but I soon found out that I didn't have the guts to do so.
On the third day after he abandoned my life, I hide across the exit of the support group meeting he used to go to. It was the only place I knew for sure I could find him. I wasn’t going to talk to him right there and then since I wanted to have that challenging conversation in a quiet and private place, so I watched as he walked to his car and then followed at a safe distance behind him, until he led me to where he lived.
I parked my car, formulated the words I wanted to tell him, yet just as I was about to call his name aloud, I saw that he sat down on the three steps leading to his front door, and for some reason, I decided to wait and see what he was up to.
At first, I thought he was tired or that he wasn’t feeling well. I wondered if it would be right for me to approach him when suddenly he buried his face in his palms and started balling his eyes out.
It was then that I realized how badly I had hurt him. I couldn't just show up and initiate a conversation with him if he felt so strongly about what happened between us. The few words I'd planned to tell him wouldn’t be enough to make amends for the pain he had obviously endured because of me and I sat there for a few long minutes, watching him as he tried to regain his strength and return to his home before I did the same and returned to mine.
On the days that followed, I found myself getting sucked into the course of his life without any self-control. I followed him around, learned about his daily routine and habits, and chose not to reveal that to anyone. I watched as he walked into his neighborhood grocery store, as he was sitting on the exact same bench in the park at the exact same time every day, but mostly I noticed that he almost never left his house.
Noel was still staring at me, waiting for me to respond to her allegations. She didn't know anything about my recent lack of sanity, and I didn't know if I would ever be able to explain it to her in a way that she would think was justified, as I wasn’t so sure that it was.
"I think today is the day, Noel." I let out a sigh of relief in the hope that my words would become that day's reality. "Today, I'll talk to him about what happened. I can't go on like this. Can't you see? This is giving me no rest."
"You're making a mistake."
"I know you think so, but I think otherwise. I think that the longer I keep things between us as they are, the more I won't be able to concentrate on what I want to do with my life." I tried, indirectly, to explain to her that I had developed some obsession for him, perhaps as a cry for help, but the clues I'd sprinkled seemed too thin for her to understand.
"Did you really need him out of your life to decide that you want him to be a part of it? Does that sound right to you? Does that sound healthy to you?"
"None of what happened these past two weeks can fall into the definition of 'healthy,' Noel. That's exactly why it's important that I put an end to this unfortunate episode between us."
"It's not important at all. It really isn’t!"
"You should start expressing support or at least asking questions for clarification, instead of trying to change my mind. My mind is set, Noel. I'm going to his weight loss support group meeting tonight, and I intend to talk to him about everything," I stated.
"Why are you even so sure he'll be there? Didn't you say he thought this whole thing was unnecessary and stupid?"
"He'll be there tonight."
"How can you be so sure of that?"
"Can I tell you something without you going crazy or say that I'm going crazy?"
"What did you do?" A naughty smile I loved to see stretched on her face.
"I've been following him for the past week."
"What do you mean, 'following him,' Michelle?"
"I mean, I know exactly where he's going and when. I just wanted to see that he was okay, but unfortunately..." I breathed for a moment and continued as I felt more complete with the exposure. "I got carried away in trying to figure out what would be the right time to approach him."
"And do you think that a support group full of overweight attendees is the right place?"
"Not at all! I’ve wanted to talk to him privately all day long, but since I can't find him anywhere, I'll settle for the meeting."
"I'm almost afraid to ask, but where did you look for him?"
"He didn’t go into his local grocery store today, and he didn't sit on his regular bench in the park. Just when I decided to stop hiding in the shadow and face him openly in all those places, he changed his routine and never showed up!"
"Michelle, you're not okay. You're going insane!" She seemed worried.
"Do you think I don't know that? I can't do anything but think about making amends with him, so I decided that today is that day that we'd talk and do just that, but he never showed up."
"I agree that you should talk, but in my opinion, it should be with a professional and not with that Don idiot."
It was as if I had just blinked and already found myself panting heavily as I planned to enter Don's weight loss support group.
I saw him almost immediately. He wore a fake smile, talked to a group of people, and I felt guilty being the only one that knows how in about an hour, when he returns to his home, he'll
sit on the stairs for a while and cry, hurt by the way we ended our relationship.
I hid behind one of the pillars. I built a stupid plan in my head, and it included the reconstruction of the first time we met. I was supposed to enter late after everyone would be seated, so I hid my ass off.
"What's new?" I heard Don ask the big guy standing in front of him.
"What can I say?" The guy answered in a bitter tone of speech. "I can't seem to make any significant achievements. This is not moving anywhere." He patted his belly, and it rocked from side to side for a few seconds.
"Are we looking at the same view, Derek? From where I'm looking at it, your belly actually moves adorably!" Don repeated his action and made that guy's belly dance over and over again, until he managed to make him laugh. "That's it, man. Smile it off. This is not a sprint, it's a long-distance race. Think big, dude. If you don't lose much weight this week, you'll lose it next week. And if not next week, then the week after."
"What was that? What am I hearing?" Ian, the drop-dead-gorgeous group guide, emerged from behind the two of them and quickly intervened in their conversation. "Are you planning to take my job, Don?" He rested his arm on Don's shoulder, and I hurried to run away as I thought for a second that Don noticed me.
Having no other choice, I stayed in one of the stalls in the ladies' bathroom and waited for the meeting to start. It was important that I came in late, so I waited five minutes after the scheduled time, and only then did I come out.
"My oh my…" Ian spread his arms and widened his eyes as I walked through the door.
"Um... Hello, everyone," I mumbled while trying to locate Don out of everyone there, yet failed.
"Well, don’t just stand there. Come on. Find a comfortable seat and join us."
"Where's..." I scanned the attendants again and double-checked that he really wasn’t there.
"Sit anywhere, Michelle." Ian got up, walked over to me and wrapped his shapely arm around my unshapely body. "But just so you'll know how happy I am that you came to visit us again, I'll let you sit in my spot." He pulled out the chair he had been sitting in until just a moment ago and got himself another one after I sat down.
In the absence of the drama that I expected would follow my entrance, the meeting went on. Ian talked to some of the people there, they shared their life events with the rest, and I remained puzzled. I couldn’t believe how big of a difference there was between the meetings that Janice managed and those run by Ian, when theoretically, they were supposed to be the same.
The spoken words were the same, the procedures seemed similar, the problems and difficulties raised by those around me were identical, but for some reason, everything was so very different.
Could it have been me? Was I different? Did I arrive with a different purpose than the one I had when I went to the morning group? Could it be that the lack of my ability to feel superior to others or confront Don, is what made me sit there without any purpose, and maybe that was the difference?
"And you? What about you?" Ian turned to me at the end of the first round of discussion, as if he was able to read my mind and continued to refine his question. "What is the purpose of you being here tonight?"
"That's a great question." I tried to gain some time to figure out what the answer was. "But I'm not sure how to reply," I said, deciding to tell him the truth.
"That's not accurate, Michelle," He narrowed his beautiful eyes at me and continued. "You know the answer to my question, yet you don’t know how you can phrase it nicely in front of everyone here, without looking like an idiot, right?" His smile threatened to make me confess to anything he might ask me to.
"Something like that." I nodded in agreement.
"Ahhhh... So we're dealing with the fear of uttering stupidly worded answers." Everyone laughed lightly at my expense, and for some reason, I didn’t mind it. "You should know that I got into this profession looking forward to such answers." He was able to drag me into the burst of laughter that attacked the room. "But Michelle, you have to know the reason for you sitting here tonight, otherwise how will you know if you have achieved your goal and if it is time for you to set yourself another one instead?"
"It'll be easier for me to start by saying why I decided to go to the morning group. I assure you that it's also a stupidly worded answer. I'll try to formulate it as silly as I can so that you'll feel that you're fulfilling your purpose in life."
"Check her out!" He briefly turned his gaze to the others before returning it to me. "Just at the beginning of her path and already thinking of others before she thinks of herself. I see a very rosy future for our relationship, Michelle." His eyes didn’t seem full of compassion or pity but of appreciation and respect. "Now tell me. What was the purpose of you joining the morning support group?"
"I went there to feel good about myself."
"That's not a stupid reason." He frowned. "You promised me ridiculousness and stupidity, Michelle."
"You didn't let me finish." I smiled, pleased with the fact the I was able to lead him on. "I felt good about myself because I thought I was better than everyone there." All the evening people started whispering around me, and I got anxious.
"I want to remind everyone that this is a 'judge-free zone.' Each one of you is here because we all want to feel good about ourselves. Michelle just said it out loud, but you all think it!" Ian glanced over at some of the people shaking their heads in disapproval. "I remember some of you who found particularly devastating ways to make yourself feel at ease early in your journey. I remember I listened to you too and that together, we realized there were several ways to reach the same destination." He returned his clear eyes to me. "What we did at the beginning of our path doesn't matter, as long as it's what got us going."
"It didn't help, anyway," I continued as if I hadn’t paused in my answer to him.
"What didn't help?"
"Nothing did." I huffed out a breath in frustration. "The first few times I sat there, I looked at all the unemployed attendees, those who had nothing else to do except sit there in their dirty house clothes, and I felt so successful. I'd sit and listen to them bitch about their miserable lives, then went on to my high ranking position, feeling like I was light-years away from those pathetic losers. But a few meetings later, I just left those sessions, disgruntled, angry and unhappy."
"That makes perfect sense to me, Michelle," one of the men sitting next to me said pleasantly.
"Why is that?" I was surprised I wasn’t afraid to look back at him.
"Because you achieved your first goal. You wanted to feel good about yourself, and you did."
"But then I felt terrible."
"Sure you would." He repeated the fact that my words made complete sense to him, and continued explaining his theory. "You were left sitting there, morning after morning, without any goal or purpose. Did you ever think how horrible it would feel to live life without a purpose?"
"I swear!" Ian applauded the man. "I'm just so thrilled by you guys tonight! First Don and now you. Guys, I love you so much. Each and every one of you!" His words were followed by a burst of applause that made me stop and think for a moment about everything.
I didn’t imagine seeing Don there earlier. Ian confirmed he was there, yet he didn’t go into the meeting. Nevertheless, I did. I went in and sat there feeling so much better about myself.
I had no need to laugh at anyone, my eyes didn’t roll as the others shared their difficulties, and I even dared to open my mouth and speak freely without trying to find a way to avoid it, as I normally did at Janice's meetings.
I thought Don was the reason for which I went into that meeting, but Ian and the others made it clear that finding a goal should have been my reason for going in.
"I'll repeat my original question to you, Michelle. Why are you here?" It was as if Ian felt I needed his guidance.
"I'm tired of being fat." It was hard for me to say the words out loud after I spent a lifetime convincing everyone I was fine with it.
"What do you mean? You're a guide in a weight loss support group. Isn't it your job to hear people say they're tired of being fat?"
"My job is to help you set goals that you can achieve. 'I'm tired of being fat' is not a measurable goal. Sorry, but it's just not enough for me, Michelle. Dig deeper."
"I... I don't understand." I moved uncomfortably in my chair. "How else could I answer your question? I really am tired of being fat."
"But that can't be your goal. If you set goals that can't be achieved, disappointment will break you, and you'll quit."
"Still, I have no idea what you're expecting me to say."
"I'll show you." He gestured to the guy who spoke to me earlier about setting goals. "Say, what was your goal when you first came here?"
"I wanted to get my cholesterol level to a healthy level."
"And did you achieve it?"
"I did," He smiled, pleased with himself, and continued. "Then I set another goal. I wanted to be able to run for one straight minute. I also achieved that goal and set another one for myself."
"Now, do you get it?" Ian turned to me. "Your goal should be something you know whether you can achieve or not. There are some anorexic women claiming that they're tired of being fat, there are some amazing, healthy, beautiful women claiming exactly the same, and there are some beautifully overweight women who claim that they’re female beauty in its carnation. Now, I don't know which of these women groups you fit into, or if maybe you’ve even created a new group of your own, but I do know for sure that 'I'm tired of being fat' is not an achievable goal."
Was he right? Was my obsessive search for Don due to a lack of a tangible and achievable goal in my life? Did I set him as my goal when I actually avoided setting myself as such?
"Let's start at the beginning, Michelle." Ian pulled me out of my head. "Do you have any medical restrictions?"
"Boy, do I." I nodded, and went on detailing the list of health restrictions my lifestyle had set in my way.