by Alona Jarden
"Have you met with a professional dietitian already? Have you sat down with a certified fitness trainer? Did you build a gradual route that will get you to your desired results?"
"I did not." He stretched a happy smile on his face, and his bright white teeth gleamed at me.
We determined that I would stay behind at the end of the session so that we could make a list together of the different goals I could achieve with certainty, and I did. Ian helped me realize that I was tired of a lot more things than just being fat. We sat there talking for quite a while and along with him, I was able to agree that I was tired of preparing myself mentally before getting out of bed each morning, tired of thinking twice before sitting down on an unfamiliar chair, tired of breathing heavily at the end of every little effort I made, tired of avoiding going to the doctor's when I'm not feeling well, and I was tired of standing helpless between the various supermarket aisles feeling that I'm about to pass out.
I was just tired of it all, and with Ian's help, I clearly knew what I was tired of.
In a few short minutes of conversation, he helped me realize that I would achieve true happiness only when I could live my life without what I got so tired of. Once I understood where he was coming from, I could see that I didn't have to be a size three or four or five. I didn’t need to weigh a hundred and forty pounds to be happy.
All I needed to do was to set achievable goals that were unrelated to Don or anyone else but myself.
I left that meeting feeling that finally, I had started my new healthy path. Ian helped me choose my first goals. He added some tasks that were meant to direct my way, and I hoped that with his close guidance, I wasn’t far from being happy.
Chapter 18
Don
Michelle, showing up at the entrance to my weight loss support group, was the last straw to break the back of the bereaved widower. A back that wasn’t significantly stable for nearly three years.
What the hell was she doing there?
I noticed her beautiful face within seconds. It was as if I had turned back time, to the last day I saw her, and all the harsh feelings overwhelmed me at once.
Over a week had passed since I left her apartment. I couldn't understand why she drove me so crazy, and I took great measures to get her out of my thoughts, in the hope that I would be able to jumpstart my life from the standstill pause it was in.
At that moment, as I watched her walking away from where I was standing, I remembered the first days after our fight. I wasn’t at all sure it was Michelle I was mourning over, having spent two days without leaving my house. I think, in retrospect, it was hard for me to know that I lost Sarah's' gaze again, but just like what happened the first time I parted from Michelle’s mesmerizing eyes, I couldn't face the world knowing she wouldn't take part in it.
If it weren’t for some basic grocery necessities that ran out, I would have stayed inside for days on end. But my mother made me promise that I would at least go to the grocery store and when I finally did, I felt that the universe had decided to play a sick joke on me.
Everything was normal when I walked in, but as soon as I came out, I saw her. She didn't see me, but I definitely saw her. She was standing across the street, looking in the opposite direction from where I was standing.
At first, I thought I imagined her. I blinked my eyes and rubbed them, but despite the effort to shake off her clear image, I had to accept that it was Michelle and that the world had turned painfully ironic.
That day, I hurried back to my house and spent many minutes uninhibitedly crying on the front steps. I didn't know how many more times I could deal with parting from her, knowing that she would never be mine again, so I cried my eyes out.
That evening, I decided to go back and try my luck at the weight loss support group, where we first met. I shared my harsh feelings from our relationship with everyone and spoke, maybe for the first time in my life, about Sarah. Surprisingly, I felt immense relief. Ian was quick to point out some facts I didn't know or didn’t want to admit and demanded that I get out of my house every morning. He said it was important I'd catch some fresh air despite the difficulties I was experiencing coming back home alone.
He set a daily agenda for me to stabilize my routine. According to his schedule, I was supposed to find a bench I liked in the park and let the thoughts pass through me without analyzing them too much. He instructed me to sit there every day at exactly ten o'clock in the morning.
The next morning, I showed up on time to the park. I walked resolutely to the bench closest to my parking place and sat down on it. After a few minutes of unpleasantness, I was finally able to understand what Ian meant when he said that my thoughts would begin to wander through me and not inside me. I sat on that bench, the wind blowing through me, and my mind wandered with it from one thought to another, without me getting stuck and lost in a specific trail of thoughts, as I would normally do in my empty house.
I breathed deeper than ever, and it was hard to ignore that Ian's' advice was no less than perfect for me, when that bench very quickly turned into an amazing refuge.
I shared my success with Ian at that evenings' meeting, but the excitement I had for the liberating exit from my house the next morning shattered like any hope I had for peace and quiet.
I showed up again, at exactly ten o'clock, to the park. I sat down on the exact same bench, took exactly the same deep, releasing breaths, but then I saw her quickly walking away from me.
Just like outside the grocery store, she didn't see me, but I saw her, and actually, from then on, wherever I looked, there she was.
I couldn't understand how three weeks earlier, I had never met her before, yet from the moment I closed the door to her apartment behind me, she kept popping up and appearing everywhere.
Ian suggested that I call her and try to find out if it was accidental or planned, but something urged me not to do that. It was as if I had some inner voice claiming that if it were meant to happen between us, we would meet again and on the same side of the street, so I decided to let it go.
For a whole week, she appeared and disappeared from various parts of my daily routine, and I said nothing to her. Maybe because I didn't want to make things worse, but also because the beating of my heart accelerated every time I thought about what I would say to her, and I didn’t care for it. I was hoping to have a few more days to think about the exact words, yet that morning, at the end of that confusing week, Michelle seemed to have made the decision for me, and my time had run out.
I left the house earlier than usual, only to find that she was standing at the entrance to my grocery store instead of across the street. I rushed to get away without buying the coffee filters I needed and tried to figure out why I did that. I sat in my car for many minutes trying to understand what made me run away from her again, just as the encounter I wished would happen, happened.
I knew I wanted to see her again, I knew I was happy that she had shown up on my side of the street, I knew that if I'd only gotten closer to her, we would have started a frantic conversation, but I guess I just wasn't ready for her. Not yet.
After sitting in my car and having my head flooded with wonders and contemplations, it was ten o'clock. I decided it would be right to let the thoughts pass through me on the bench that has become mine, but I could see Michelle was sitting in it from my parking spot.
She placed her buttocks on the last refuge I found for myself and having no other choice in the matter, I hurried back to my apartment, but not before taking a deep breath on the front steps and gathering the courage to enter.
All I wanted was for time to pass so that I could share the shaky events of that day with my support group friends, but she was there as well.
I wanted so much to hear what Ian had to say about her showing up everywhere, and I wanted everyone to help me understand if it would be a mistake to bring Michelle back into my life, but my support group was no longer an option for me, as soon as she showed up and entered it.
> "I'm sorry, guys, but I won't be going in tonight." I shook my head as I talked to some of the support group members outside the meeting room.
"Why? What's going on? What's wrong?" Ian wondered.
"I think I'm going crazy." I rubbed my eyes even though I knew for sure it was Michelle that entered the ladies' room.
"Well, you're in good company in that regard." Ian patted my shoulders, pulled me aside, and continued in a more serious tone. "What's the matter, Don?"
"You know, Michelle?"
"The one that broke your heart? I'm familiar with her work." He smiled at me.
"She didn’t break my... Oh, fuck it. Who am I kidding? She did," I agreed and smiled back. "No matter where I look today, she's there."
"Yes. You told us you've been seeing her across the street for the past week or so."
"But today she crossed over to my side, Ian. Today, no matter where I turn, she’s right in front of me."
"She's here too?"
"Yes. She's here."
"And is that such a bad thing?"
"I don't know. I can't help myself when I look into her eyes. You know better than anyone else what I've been through this past week, Ian. You know how hard it was for me to cut her off."
"But, I also know what achievements you gained during this past week."
"My point exactly!" I got it all worked out. "Getting her out of my life pushed me in a positive direction, so what now? What will happen if I let her walk back in?"
"Getting her out of your life was what pushed you? What was that you just said? Can't you see anyone else that can take credit for you getting out of the house and reexamining your life as it stood still?"
"Well, you helped, too," I admitted happily.
"I didn't mean me, Don, though it's always nice to get credit for helping." He smiled awkwardly. "I meant you, Don. With Michelle, without Michelle, with Sarah or without her, you'll always have you, and you pushed yourself in that positive direction, not anyone else."
"I know." I exhaled in frustration. "Just when I feel like I'm starting to see myself again, she shows up, and I lose all confidence. I don't think I'll be able to keep at it, while she's around."
"Why not?"
"Because the moment I look into her eyes, I want to make her smile. I forget what I need and start planning how I can give her what she needs. Don't you understand? I dream of her every night, I think of her every second of every day and I—"
"I have to stop you right there." He swung his palm toward me. "You're crossing the boundary into insanity."
"That's what I said! I know I'm exaggerating, and I know I'm rushing to react, but I just can't slow down when it comes to her. It's like... like... I feel like I'm on borrowed time with her, and if we don't experience as many happy moments as possible together, she'll just disappear."
"And what if she doesn't? What will happen if she actually stays around?"
"What do you mean?" I got alarmed and asked him to explain.
"What if she is the one for you, and you're the one for her, but you're not being your full you at the moment, Don? You're half, or a third, or even something closer to being you, but you're not complete. You're all messed up. You're not properly assembled, so you're not you yet."
"Explain," I begged, and he put his arm around me again.
"Don, I hope I will never know how you feel, but looking back, I can tell you that Sarah's death left you in pieces."
"That's not hard to see. I'm crushed."
"That’s what I mean when I say that you're incomplete or at least disorganized. If you really love her, if she really is the one, don't waste the second opportunity she'll give you to leave a negative impression on her."
Not only was I finally able to understand what he was trying to explain, I even agreed with him.
If this challenging day's events were her attempt to give us another try, I shouldn't grab the option with the intensity and insanity that was taking over me at that moment.
Ian and I agreed that I wouldn’t go into the meeting that evening. He promised to try and figure out what made her come there, yet demanded that I didn’t bother myself with questions about the future before we both got a little more answers from Michelle about the present.
A few minutes later, I stood at some distance away from the entrance to the meeting and looked carefully at everyone that walked in. Michelle wasn’t one of them. For a second, the thought that I had dreamed her came up and I wondered if it wasn’t actually her I saw going into the ladies’ room, but just as I was about to step out of my hiding place and join the meeting, she came out of hers and went in.
With some very hesitant steps, she penetrated my personal and private safe space. She came into the group that helped me deal with our breakup, the group that helped me realize that I couldn’t continue to live my life as I had in recent years, the group I could no longer return to because it was breached and occupied by Michelle's beautiful eyes and hurtful words.
Once again, she's done it!
She wasn’t even formally back in my life, yet I already got my head distracted with thoughts about her. So many confusing thoughts that I closed the door to my home behind me, without noticing that I didn’t sit on the front steps and cry for a bit.
Two days later, I was looking for her in every corner, but she wasn’t there. Her distant presence in my life, the one that weighed on me the week before, disappeared, and her absence was suddenly more than I could bear.
I went to the grocery store several times, sat for hours and hours on the park bench, went to all the places where she appeared the week before, yet she was nowhere to be seen.
Ian told me that she decided to keep going to his support group meetings. According to him, I needed to give her that space to grow and mature. Although I knew I could easily find her there, I decided to listen to him and stay away.
I remembered so vividly how hard and confusing it was for me to see her showing up everywhere, and I wasn't going to be responsible for making her feel that same way.
Having no other choice, I realized that my life required a fundamental change inflicted on it.
A halt to the healing process that I had just begun was out of the question, and because my support group was taken by her, I hired Ian privately. Every Monday and Thursday, he came to my house for a one-on-one support meeting and exercise session. Together, we built a training program for me, and with his help, I felt that I was on my way to being able to reorganize my life. At each of our sessions, he would explain again that physical health and mental balance would lead me to weight loss, and I allowed myself to open up and talk to him about the things I buried deep inside me. I hoped I would find a more close to the surface place for them, until one day, they might actually evaporate and disappear altogether.
Though I never admitted it to his face, I was very happy Ian demanded that I leave the house several times a day, but apart from sitting on the bench, he didn’t elaborate on what else I should do at each and every exit. In the absence of a definite and orderly instruction on his part, I set out to search and trace Michelle's daily agenda.
For two and a half weeks, I made her life, my own. Every morning, at exactly ten o'clock in the morning, I sat down for my daily thought clearance on my bench. Every Monday and Thursday, I met with Ian in my apartment for the support and physical coaching sessions, but at any given moment unrelated to these scheduled activities, I tracked Michelle's whereabouts and never spoke of it to anyone.
"I don’t think you realize how very unprofessional it is on my part to tell you personal details that come up in the support group." Ian stood in front of my open refrigerator door and carefully examined all its content.
"I actually do. You told me that while you elaborated on Michelle's progress. Last I heard, she was getting stronger and kept coming to almost every evening meeting. So now tell me what's new with her this week?"
"Great. What good does it do me if you get it, yet keep asking me about her?" He b
ent over to see if I were hiding something he wouldn’t be happy to see on the lower shelves.
"You do know that I throw all suspicious evidence out of the fridge before you get here, don’t you?" I smirked at him and went back to my interrogation. "Well, then tell me. Did she achieve any of her goals yet?"
"I'm serious, Don. You have to stop asking me about Michelle. I'm not comfortable with that."
"Okay, sorry. So does that mean she already accomplished one goal? Is she on her way to her second goal? You said she's making good progress, so what does that mean?"
"Don, that's enough."
"You're right. I overstepped my boundaries. Sorry." I waved my hands at him. "So, just tell me if she lost some weight or not."
"Ugh! She did, all right? You're unbearable!"
"Oh, that's great to hear. Now tell me if she looks happier to you because I know it's really important for her to start seeing actual results and—"
"She lost some weight. I designed a careful and gradual exercise plan for her, and she's happy, okay? Now that's enough, Don. Please."
"Right, right…" I chuckled to myself. "That's enough. You told me what I needed in order to be at ease."
"Great. I'm on top of things, so you can really be at ease. I’m keeping a very close eye on her." He released a premature sigh of relief.
"In that case, Ian, can you tell me why she's going to the gym every morning? You told me it's not advisable to overdo it, so how is that different for her?"
"She does not go to the gym every day!"
"Oh, but she does." I laughed. "Here I am, thinking that it was unhealthy to start working out too strong, while she's going to the gym every day of the week."
"Can we please talk about you for a second?"
"Right after we talk about what could happen if she does training seven times a week. Can she get injured? Have a heart attack? What?"
"Don! You're being obsessed with her again! She's not overdoing it, okay? I talk to her on a daily basis, and I would know if she was—"