by Mara Jacobs
She heard movement from downstairs, water running in the kitchen sink. God bless old houses where you could hear every movement. Thank goodness no one else had been in the house last night, for they sure would have heard an earful.
She found her beat-up, terry cloth robe - one of the few pieces of clothing she’d kept from her former size - and slipped it on, loving the way it wrapped around her body nearly twice. She was gone from her bedroom before she even realized that she hadn’t put her hand on her tummy this morning. She padded downstairs in bare feet, but when she rounded the corner to the living room she stopped, frozen in her tracks.
Finn stood with his back to her dressed only in his jeans, slung low on his hips, his broad, tan back slightly bent as he looked at the knick knacks and photos in the curio cabinet in front of him. The reflection of his face in the glass cabinet doors shone at Lizzie like a mirror. In the morning light, she easily saw every nuance that passed over his face as he looked at the family photos.
The image was familiar to her, seeing Finn like that. A suffocating pain shot through her chest as she was hurled back in time, her memory betraying her with its startling clarity.
She’d gone to see him at the theater one night after the second showing had started and she knew he wouldn’t be very busy. She’d walked to Houghton by herself, not daring to tell even Alison and Katie that she was going. She’d been out of high school three weeks, summer was in full swing, she already had loads of tips from waitressing to take to State, and her tan was coming along nicely.
And she couldn’t stop crying herself to sleep at night.
Finn had called a week before and said he wanted to see other girls. When she asked if that meant in addition to her or instead of her he didn’t give her a straight answer, but hemmed and hawed his way off of the phone.
He hadn’t called since.
She knew it was over, but she couldn’t stop herself from taking that fateful walk to Houghton to see him one more time. Maybe she’d act cool and sophisticated, calling his bluff, and say he was right, they should see other people too, but still continue to see each other - how about tomorrow? Maybe she’d throw pop in his face and call him every blue word she knew - and Alison had taught her a lot of them, much to Katie’s chagrin. Maybe...maybe she’d tell him she’d sleep with him - right now, in the projection room if that's what he wanted - if only he’d take her back.
Fantasizing about the pop throwing, her gait became slower as she realized she was more apt to play out the latter scenario.
He didn’t seem all that surprised to see her. Leery, watchful, but not surprised. Maybe he envisioned her throwing pop at him as well. Perhaps it was an incident that often happened to him.
They made excruciating small talk for a few minutes, Lizzie still deciding which road to take. Finn said he had to go back upstairs to the projection room. She just nodded. He reached out and squeezed her arm.
“It was good to see you, Liz. Take care of yourself,” he said. They had been near the door to go into the theater, next to the stairwell. He led her directly across the lobby to the exit doors, then turned back and headed up the stairs.
It was a definite dismissal and she put her hands out to the glass doors to leave. She paused at the door, looking out into the evening twilight. Being so far west that it should really be in the Central Time Zone, but remaining on Eastern time, the Copper Country remained light until ten or eleven o’clock in the summer. It was a kid’s paradise, playing baseball so late into the evening. The walk home wouldn’t even be really dark until she was just about to her house.
The cool glass on Lizzie’s hand shocked her. She took a step back, then another. Her dignity already in shreds, she decided to go for broke and wait for Finn to come back downstairs.
She’d definitely sleep with him. Enough of this good girl crap, he was a man and he wanted a woman. And she was going to be one for him. Would it matter just this once if she altered her life plan? Moved up the virginity timetable a few years?
Her stomach churned with dread as she waited, then some movement coming from the doors in front of her made her lift her head. The door reflected the lobby behind her and she saw Finn making his way down the stairs. She stood still for a moment, trying to get her courage up, to turn around and face him, but she needn’t have bothered. As soon as he saw she was still there, had waited for him, he came to a quiet halt on the fourth step from the bottom. Not realizing she could see him in the reflecting window, he silently turned around and made his way back up the stairs, creeping like a thief in the night, intent on waiting until she left before returning downstairs.
The thoughts that ran through Lizzie’s mind right then would unwittingly affect the rest of her life. As she hustled through the doors and made her way back to her side of the bridge she could have been thinking, “What a snake! What a jerk! Who does he think he is!?” But those weren’t the thoughts that ran through her humiliated brain.
Instead, her eighteen-year-old, broken-hearted mind raced with, “What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently? Did his other girlfriends kiss better than me?” and the piece de résistance, “Does he like someone prettier/thinner/better than me?”
The memory played like a movie in Lizzie’s mind as she sat on the stairs in her parents’ home - the place she still thought of as her home - and watched Finn.
With the hindsight of a woman who had faced life’s challenges and won, she realized now how pivotal that night had been for her. She hadn’t faced it before, had never really thought about that night, about how shattered her pride had been. How disgusted with herself she was for even going to the Mine Shaft. How she’d never told anyone about it to this day, not even Al and Kat. She thought her problems with intimacy and trust had begun with her sexual debacle three years later, but she now knew it had been birthed that night.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her cheek against the soft robe. She allowed a tear to trickle down her cheek, making no attempt to wipe it away. That girl in the theater lobby deserved a tear or two. She hadn’t cried that night - had not cried any more over Finn Robbins.
She did start making frequent trips to the Dairy Queen.
A soft sigh escaped her lips but Finn was still oblivious to her presence behind him. She wondered what in her mother’s curio cabinet could have him so engrossed, then gasped as she realized he was staring at the family photos of her at twice her size.
There were at least a dozen photos in front of him. One with her and Zeke when he got his wings, him looking devastatingly handsome in his Navy whites, straining to reach an arm around her girth for an embrace. One of Lizzie looking happy in a chic, designer suit, albeit seven sizes larger than the ones she wore now, in front of the office doors with the Hampton Public Relations sign on her first day of business. One with her parents at a Red Wings game, she in a XXXL Pete Ryan jersey.
One of her on her high school graduation looking crisp and young and full of dreams. Later that night she’d whimpered Finn’s name as he’d held her on a blanket at the beach, frightened of what her body was feeling, of emotions that seemed just out of reach.
Lizzie’s gasp was what made Finn finally aware of her and he turned to face her. There was a questioning look in his eyes and compassion in his voice - not pity, she would have died to hear pity - when he said, “Tell me what happened to you, Elizabeth.”
It seemed fitting that she told him of the last fifteen years at the beach. He had bared his soul to her here only a month ago, and it was here that they had shared so many heated moments years earlier.
She threw on shorts and a tee shirt, Finn gathered his shirt and shoes, they put the coffee he’d been making before the pictures distracted him in a thermos, grabbed two mugs and drove the short distance. It was too early for anyone to be there. They had to park on the highway and walk in because the gates to the parking area wouldn’t open for several more hours. It was a lovely, clear morning, destined to be another glorious day.
The water, still and mirror-like, held Lizzie’s attention as always. Once settled on the blanket and each with a mug of coffee in their hands, Finn needed to only voice a soft “Liz?” to get her started.
It all spilled. Probably too quickly, it seemed hard for Finn to keep up. Things she’d never put into words seemed so clear to her now.
She didn’t tell him about remembering the night at the theater after their break up, she didn’t want him to know that she’d seen him, didn’t want him to know how much that had shattered her.
And she didn’t mention the failed attempts at a healthy intimate relationship. It wouldn’t do her any good for him to know that last night was only about pushing her sexual envelope.
But she did tell him everything else that had happened to her. She explained to him about cravings and hungers that never seemed to end. How sometimes, after leaving an office full of close co-workers and a social gathering that included dinner with friends she cared deeply about, she’d return home and feel so alone that she’d get back in her car and drive to the nearest McDonald’s. How she’d order two large pops because she didn’t want the counter person to think the large amount of food she’d ordered was going to be eaten by only one person.
She croaked out a laugh as she told him that part. “Like a kid at McDonald’s gives a shit how much I eat. Like they’re going to call the Big Mac Police on me.” Finn only gave her a small smile and waited for her to continue.
She put into words how exhausting being “the nice one” had always been to her. She never felt that she could hurl a bitchy comeback, or put someone in their place the way Alison could. She could never attract men with the ease that Katie did. She worked hard at being so friendly, so accessible to everyone. Having a few candy bars on the drive to work was a self-granted reward, of sorts, for all she did. She didn’t have anyone at her condo to say, “fantastic job, Lizzie” when she got home, so she let Poppa John say it for her.
She told him how she felt like a double agent at times, so capable and competent in her professional life, and such a total fuck-up when it came to anything else.
How humiliating even taking a shower was every day when you needed to lift up your stomach to wash under it. Mirrors and especially clothes - something she’d loved all her life - and any sort of athletic activity, became things she dreaded. Her disregard for her body was like a black hole that she hadn’t seen herself falling into. When she was so deeply ensconced, she could see no way out.
She stopped talking for a while, just stared at the lake. She’d never get tired of looking at that lake. Finn just lay beside where she sat, waiting patiently. He probably needed to get to the farm, but made no sign of moving, showed no signal for her to hurry up and get on with it. For that she was grateful. It was painful to talk about this, but he was easing the way for her by being silent.
Her voice was lighter and her whole body seemed to ease as she told him of her turnaround.
It hadn’t been easy. The first time she had sent a plate of her beloved fettucini Alfredo away half finished because she was full - something that had never stopped her from cleaning off the plate before - she’d almost burst into tears.
The foreign object her face became when washing it and would come into contact with cheekbone instead of fleshy cheek. The Samson-esque importance she gave to her hair, not cutting it other than trimming the ends, since she’d started to lose weight. The length in some indefinable way proportionate to her weight loss.
She explained about journaling, how that morphed into the tablets and lists she always carried around.
“What was it that made you start to lose weight?” he asked.
She had no intention of telling him about meeting Davis. Thinking his name now, she struggled to picture him in her mind. She was surprised to find it took her several moments before she saw him, dressed in an Armani suit, dashing into a meeting. She’d started to think that maybe her epiphany moment would have come regardless of meeting Davis. She sensed she’d been at a point in her life - a now-or-never moment - when she’d have the strength and courage to begin a new chapter in the saga of Lizzie Hampton.
“I was ready. It was as simple as that,” was all she said.
He sat up and crossed his ankles, his long legs resting alongside hers. The khakis he’d worn to the dance looked nearly white next to her legs, now deeply tan from days in the strawberry fields. A slight pink from the parade graced the surface of her knees. He placed his hand on her thigh, a gentle touch of a friend, not the sexual one of a lover. “Liz, not a thing about you is simple, it never was.”
A small smile played on her lips, she leaned her body into his, then away, giving him a small sway of understanding. He laughed and mimicked her motion, leaning a little harder than she did, nearly throwing her off balance. She came back at him, putting her whole body behind it and they tumbled over, Finn pulling her to him as they rolled off the blanket and onto the grass, still wet with the morning’s dew.
Their smiles were wide with amusement as Finn rolled them back to the blanket, anchoring Lizzie beneath him. He peppered her face with wet kisses, making exaggerated smacking sounds with each one, until she was laughing the laugh he professed to love so much.
He rose up on his elbows, his face over hers. She was reminded of a similar position last night, though with fewer clothes. She traced his face with her fingers, letting them come to rest on his full bottom lip. She watched her fingers move with his mouth as he whispered, “Thank you for telling me all that, Liz. Thanks for trusting me enough to share it with me.”
The words made Lizzie reel. It was about trust, wasn’t it? She’d had to have a huge amount of trust in Finn - in anyone, really - to be able to say all the things she just did. The thought cheered her.
Just this morning she had remembered being devastated by this man, and now she was able to trust enough to lay herself bare. She felt more naked with him here, now, than she had laying with him in bed last night.
She gauged her internal barometer and felt something she was sure was…could be…may be…peace.
Finn dropped Liz off at her parents’ house. Their embrace when she scooted out of the Jeep seemed different. Full of an understanding that hadn’t been there before.
He felt honored, and just a little humbled that she’d chosen to tell him her story. There was an ease between them now. The pent-up anxiety about desperately wanting to be together was gone. He wondered if the desire would be gone as well, now that he’d finally slept with her. It seemed just the opposite. He wanted her again and again, now more than ever.
Yes, fucking Liz Hampton was now checked off his mental bucket list, but he wasn’t entirely sure that a whole slew of new items hadn’t taken its place. And every one of them included Liz.
So much about last night made sense to him now. The woman who had seemed shocked to see Liz was indeed shocked...at her appearance. It also made sense to him why someone like Pete Ryan, or any other man she’d come in contact with, had not pursued her with a single-minded determination to make Liz his wife.
Finn knew that overweight men and women had fulfilling relationships, but he also knew that Liz would not have pursued a relationship when she felt that uncomfortable with her own body. Hell, it wasn’t even that she felt uncomfortable with her body, it was like she had cut off all connection with her body whatsoever. Why would she try to have a relationship with a man who would be accepting of her obesity - and Finn knew there were good men like that out there - when the whole point of the obesity was to abstain from having a personal, intimate relationship with a man?
But why? What had made her shun all intimacy? From what she’d said it had begun around her senior year of college. Had something traumatic happened? Had she been abused, or raped? He didn’t think so. He thought Liz would have told him that.
In the end, it didn’t matter what had triggered it, he only wished to hell he could have been there to help her through it.
She was so honest. After the
game playing and hidden agendas of Dana, it renewed his faith that there were indeed people who told it like it was.
He thought back to their lovemaking. He had noticed her inhibitions, of course. Saw her hesitation when she told him what she wanted. It had been one hell of a turn on for him. His good girl gone bad. He couldn’t remember ever coming so hard as he had inside of her.
He’d thought that her inhibitions were directed at her choice of partner. His wrong side of the tracks mentality could not lie still. He’d thrilled in the way he’d made her come undone, the way she’d moved beneath him, the sounds she’d made.
Now it made more sense. Her needing the lights off, seemingly orchestrating her movements. And her hesitancy in bed. It had been about her body, not about him as he had thought. The realization was unsettling.
He passed Bob’s Mobil on his way back to Houghton. Today’s Bible verse read, “God loves a cheerful giver.”
He smiled to himself. Liz was in good with the man upstairs, then, because he didn’t know anyone who qualified more than she as a cheerful giver. Giver of her time, her resources, even of her body, which may have been the hardest thing for her to give.
He thought about that for a minute, placing it amongst the information he’d just learned about her.
Sure, she was a cheerful giver, but at what price? If she’d been more of a bitch like Dana, would she have turned to food for solace? Was obesity her cost for always being “there” for everyone? Who had been there to cheer her up, who had been her sounding board? He knew she was tight with her family and Katie and Alison, but they weren’t with her on a daily basis.
If he had it in his power - and he knew that he didn’t, not really - he would see that Elizabeth Hampton never felt the need to order two pops from McDonald’s again.
Chapter Seventeen
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