by Jeff Erno
“Just ’cause I’m on a diet doesn’t mean you’ve got to be. I told you, we could order you a real pizza.”
“And just ’cause I’m skinnier than you doesn’t mean I don’t need to eat healthy.” He looked up at Oliver and winked, his trademark smile lighting up his face. How’d a person get to be so positive, and why did someone like Benjy waste so much time hanging around a sourpuss like Oliver? He didn’t mean to be so cynical all the time. He didn’t mean to be grouchy or irritable toward his best friend.
“You know what, Benjy?”
“Huh?”
“This is going to sound really corny….”
“What?” Benjy smiled even broader than before. “Just say it.”
“I really don’t deserve a friend like you.”
Benjy laughed dismissively. “Don’t be a dork. Of course you do. If not for you, I wouldn’t even have my job. If not for you, I wouldn’t even have any….” He trailed off, seemingly unable to complete his sentence.
“I saved your butt that one time, but you’d have probably figured it out on your own. And since then, you’ve covered my ass more times than I can count. And half the time I’m a jerk to you, snap at you, get irritated.”
“Dude, stop it.” Benjy placed his hand on Oliver’s shoulder, having to reach up to do so. “Dieting is tough. It would make anyone grouchy. I don’t take it personally, and besides, most of the time you get pissed at me, I deserve it. I know I can be annoying.”
Oliver sighed. Benjy’s self-effacing personality was only making him feel worse. “Well, please promise me something, okay?”
“Sure, anything.”
“If I treat you bad, tell me. Call me out. Tell me to quit being an asshole.”
After laughing a few seconds, Benjy grew serious. “I would never say something like that to you. Ollie, you’re my best friend.”
“Please… if I ever hurt you in any way, you have to tell me.”
“Okay, okay. But you won’t, so quit worrying. Shit, I forgot to set the timer on the pizza.”
“It’s only been in there a couple minutes.”
“You know what I think we should do tonight?” Benjy’s voice climbed a full octave. “We should go to the mall and shop for some new duds.”
Making a face, Oliver shook his head fiercely. “No fucking way.”
“Yes, way! I bet you’ve dropped at least three or four sizes, and you should reward yourself.”
“But I have a long, long way to go.”
Benjy rubbed his hands together. “Think of how many shopping trips we have to look forward to!”
OLIVER COULDN’T remember the last time he’d fit into a size forty-two pants. When he started his diet months earlier, he had a fifty-inch waist. He’d dropped fifty pounds and eight inches, now down to a size 2XL shirt. Still two hundred eighty-two pounds, a far cry from slender, he was at least starting to approach the range where others might see him as “chubby” or “a big guy” rather than just outright fat. He’d lost enough weight that it was obvious to his coworkers, his hair stylist, even the cashier at the supermarket. People complimented him openly, offering words of encouragement and lots of praise.
It had finally reached the point where Oliver had to pick up the phone and make the call he dreaded most. “Hey, Mom.”
“Well, what do you know? The dead has arisen. Do you think it’s too much for a mother to ask for her only son to call once in a blue moon to check on her? Once a week, maybe? Once a month? Once every six months even! After all, I only gave birth to you. Sixteen long, unbearable, excruciating hours of labor to bring you into this world.”
“Mom, I just called you a couple weeks ago.”
“A couple weeks ago? After all your father and I did, the sacrifices we made to put our only son through college.”
“Mom, I paid most of my own college tuition. Well, I should say I’m paying it… still.”
“Is it too much to ask? Is it too much for a mother to expect to see her baby more than once or twice a year?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I was thinking maybe I’d visit this weekend. My friend Ben and I, we were talking about a road trip.”
“Your friend?” He could see her in his mind’s eye, jumping up from her chair excitedly.
“He’s just a friend. He doesn’t even know about me. He doesn’t even know I’m gay.”
“But you’re going to tell him, right? It must be serious…. Wait, Ollie. You’re not falling for a straight boy, are you? Honey, he’ll break your soft heart, smash it to smithereens.”
Sighing, he picked up a celery stick from the plate in front of him. “It’s not like that. We’re friends, that’s all. I haven’t fallen for him and never will.”
“Okay, okay. It doesn’t matter anyway. I better get busy. I’ve got shopping and cooking… and I’ve got to change all the bedding. I’ll make up the guest room for your friend. Unless….”
“Make up the guest room, yes. We aren’t sleeping together.” Both of Oliver’s parents had been 100 percent supportive since the day he came out in high school. In that sense, he’d been blessed. Unfortunately, they were blind to the other struggles he faced. As far as his mother was concerned, Oliver was the most attractive young gay man on the planet, and she couldn’t understand why guys were not lining up to date him. When she looked at him, she didn’t see his rolls of fat, and she couldn’t comprehend why others didn’t see her son through those same rose-colored glasses. “But, Mom, please… don’t overdo it.”
“Overdo it? What are you talking about? How could I possibly overdo anything? My son is coming for a visit for the first time in at least two years, and he’s bringing a special friend!”
Oliver sighed, resigned to the futility of pointing out it had only been months, not years, since he’d visited, and that Ben was not the kind of special friend she was implying. She was going to believe what she wanted to believe, and facts would not deter her.
“Fine, but please just remember, I’m not out to Benjy.”
“Benjy? You call him Benjy? Oh darling, that’s so sweet. Does he call you Ollie?”
“I’ve got to go. We’ll see you Friday evening. We’re both taking a half day off work. Should be there….”
“By dinnertime!”
“By dinnertime, yes. And remember, I’m dieting.”
“Oh dear. I’ve got to go too. So little to do, so much time to do it in.” She laughed at her own joke, a standard misspeak she’d picked up years ago from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
“Love you.”
“Love you too, baby. Call on Friday when you’re on your way.”
OLIVER’S BELLY no longer rubbed against the steering wheel when he squeezed into the driver’s seat of his SUV on his way to work. Actually, he no longer had to squeeze in at all. He still had a hefty, oversized torso, a protruding gut, and embarrassing man boobs, but overall he’d shrunk. When he sat upright in a chair, he could finally suck in his belly somewhat and was even aware that underneath the remaining roll of cellulite, he possessed real abdominals.
He made a mental note to bite the bullet and call Adam, the personal trainer Brad had recommended. He’d call when he returned from his weekend away. He’d procrastinated because he still couldn’t envision himself exercising in front of anyone, even a trainer who did that sort of thing for a living. He wasn’t even close to being able to bend at the waist to touch his toes. His attempts to complete a sit-up were a joke. And even the way he ran, more of a rapid waddle, was embarrassing. He just had too much fat on his body, and though a substantial amount had already burned off, it wasn’t melting away nearly fast enough.
Maybe visiting his parents at this stage wasn’t such a great idea. He made it to the office and slogged his way through the morning, dreading what lay in store that evening. His cubicle neighbor countered his lackluster attitude with an equivalent dose of enthusiasm. Benjy, who admittedly led a boring life, could barely contain his excitement over their
imminent road trip.
“I packed snacks!” He held up a portable canvas cooler. “And an eclectic selection of CDs.”
Oliver’s obligatory smile probably came across as more of a smirk. “Dude, you know I don’t snack anymore.”
“Healthy snacks! Carrot sticks, celery, fat-free ranch dip. And I picked up some low-calorie crackers and SunChips.”
“Trust me, once we get to my folks’ house, you won’t be hungry. You’ve got to promise me you’ll eat a lot.”
Benjy’s face twisted into a look of bewilderment. “Huh? I pretty much make a point of not pigging out when we’re together. I mean, I think it would be kind of rude with you being on a… or, I mean… with you trying to lose weight and stuff.”
“Well, you don’t know my mom. She will have made enough food to feed an army, and she’s gonna try to force-feed me. But if she sees you scarfing down all her pies and cookies, she won’t be as offended by me refusing them.”
“Oh.” He grinned in his typical ear-to-ear style. “Sure, I guess I can take one for the team.”
Oliver laughed. “I doubt it’ll be much of a sacrifice. My mom’s a good cook. I didn’t get this size by eating cafeteria food.”
At 11:45 a.m., Benjy’s head popped over the cubicle wall again. “You ready?”
“No.” Oliver stared at his computer monitor. “I think I’m gonna puke.”
“You do not. You’re just nervous about seeing your parents.” He stepped around the cubicle wall, walked up to the back of Oliver’s chair, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Oddly, the softness of his touch stoked a warmth within Oliver’s chest. Turning his head slightly, he looked up at Benjy. “Trust me, I know what you’re going through. I don’t even talk to my parents. Or, they don’t talk to me.”
“Really?” Oliver would have thought Benjy to be a mama’s boy, particularly due to his hypersensitivity and emotionalism. Then again, maybe he wasn’t being exactly fair. Technically there was a big difference between emotion and anxiety. “Where are your folks?”
“Missouri. That’s where I’m from, but I left home when I was sixteen. Lived with a friend the last two years of high school, then left the state for college and never went back.”
“What about your friend?”
“Oh, we still talk. Almost every day, in fact, either through Messenger or text.”
Why a burst of unwarranted possessiveness suddenly gripped Oliver, he didn’t know. Of course he wasn’t jealous that Benjy had another close friend. It had been silly of him to assume he was the only important person in the guy’s life. Well, actually, how could he even consider himself important? They didn’t even know all that much about each other. Besides, Benjy was entitled to have whatever friends he wanted. Why, though, had he never mentioned this person?
“Sam’s been my best friend since junior high, pretty much.”
“Oh really.”
“Her family took me in when my folks disowned me.”
“Her family?” He should be appalled by what Benjy had said, but he couldn’t keep from smiling.
“Yeah. She’s still in Missouri, now engaged. She wants me to be there for the wedding, but….”
“You’re afraid of seeing your parents?” Oliver sobered his expression, turning farther to face Benjy full-on.
“Nah. I don’t even care about them, really. Plus, they’d never get an invite to the wedding. I just don’t handle that sort of thing, being in a crowd, being the center of attention.”
“Tell her you want to go, but you can’t stand up for her. She knows you, Benjy. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
He nodded. “Probably. Hey, I see what you did. You got me talking about this bullshit to stall for time. C’mon, let’s get going! We have a road trip to take.”
Oliver wanted to ask more about Benjy’s parents. Why on earth did they disown their own son? And when he was only sixteen? Had he done something horrible, something so egregious that they’d excommunicate him from the family? Or was it because of who he was?
He was projecting again, making assumptions that were outrageous. Gay men did that all the time, and it irritated Oliver. They always wanted to fantasize about straight guys being gay. They assumed every man on the planet was like them. Well, this definitely wasn’t the case with Benjy. Oliver had never seen him so much as look twice at another guy. He didn’t have anything stereotypically gay in his apartment, no homoerotic art or posters or anything. He didn’t even like Britney Spears. Benjy definitely wasn’t gay.
BENJY HAD reclined his seat and now lay back with his socked feet against the dashboard, tapping out dance moves to “…Baby One More Time.”
“You fucking like Britney Spears!”
“Huh?” He sat upright, reaching for the stereo dial. “You don’t like Britney?” He cranked down the volume as he turned and gave Oliver his full attention.
“No… or I mean yeah. She’s fine. I just… well, it just surprised me. I didn’t know you liked Britney Spears.”
“I told you I brought an eclectic selection.”
Oliver glanced at him, conscious of the fact he was driving. Benjy had changed into shorts and a tank top, exposing the entirety of his twig-like arms and toothpick legs. If he weighed more than one twenty, Oliver would be surprised. But in that getup, with his hair slightly mussed, wearing his Harry Potter glasses, he conveyed a sort of geeky, boyish charm. “Break out the snacks.”
“Really?” Benjy’s face lit up with a broad smile as he reached behind the seat and retrieved the small cooler. “Oh, and I have pretzel sticks. Fat-free, ya know.”
“Yeah, now you’re talking. I’ll have a pretzel.”
Benjy unzipped the cooler and removed the bag of Rold Golds, then peeled it open and handed one to Oliver. “Your parents live in the boondocks or something?”
He laughed. “Pretty much.” He bit into his pretzel, savoring the saltiness. “Sometimes northern Michigan feels more like rural Kentucky. Lot of hunters and card-carrying Republicans.”
“Long live the Second Amendment.” Benjy giggled. “I know what you mean, though. I’m from a small town too. I think we had one black family and a couple Native Americans. My mom and dad are born-again fundamentalists. Baptists.”
“What happened? Do you mind me asking? I mean, why’d they…?”
“Disown me?”
Oliver nodded, then paused. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, it’s fine.” Benjy sucked on his pretzel, sliding it partway into his mouth, then pulling it out slowly. Oliver raised his eyebrows but kept his gaze on the road. In the most casual, insouciant manner, Benjy tossed his head back. “What the hell, right? Might as well be blunt. I’m gay.”
Oliver stared straight ahead, feeling his eyes widen as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Oh.”
He drove a little farther in silence, neither of them speaking. “I can take a bus back. I’m pretty sure there’s a bus line that runs all the way to—”
“Oh my God, Benjy. Don’t be stupid.” He turned and saw Benjy’s eyes were flooded with tears. “I’m pulling over.”
“No! Just drive.”
Oliver sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter. It’s totally cool you’re gay, and I’m… I’m… I’m perfectly fine with it.” Why couldn’t he come out himself? “It doesn’t change anything.”
“Really?”
“You’re my friend, man. My… um, best friend. Gay, straight, whatever—it doesn’t matter.”
“I guess I kind of thought you knew. I know we never talked about it.”
“Well, maybe I suspected, but ya know, it’s none of my business. And like I said, it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter to my folks either. They aren’t prejudiced.”
“What do you mean, it wouldn’t matter? Don’t you mean, it won’t?”
“Well, if you told them, and that’s up to you, but… well, we’re only there for two days.” God, he hoped Benjy didn’t say anything. If he did, his mom would be a
ll over that shit like white on rice. And she’d be trying to hook them up.
“I don’t usually bring it up, but I have to be honest, I’ve felt kind of guilty lately. You’ve shared so much about yourself, and you’ve been so open. I really admire how determined you’ve been with this diet, and I’m so proud of all you’ve already accomplished.”
Oliver swallowed hard, forcing back the lump that formed. “Thanks, man.”
“And I wanted to come out to you sooner, but I was afraid. After what had happened before….”
“When your folks kicked you out?”
“Yeah, and high school was awful. I got beat up every day.”
It explained a lot of the social anxiety. Oliver’s heart was cracking down the middle. He had to tell Benjy. He had to confess he too was gay. “I’m sorry, Benjy. I hate that happened to you.”
“I was afraid of losing you as a friend.”
“That’ll never happen. I swear. Nothing is ever going to come between us, our friendship.”
He looked over once more, and Benjy was smiling at him.
“I don’t even know what to say.” The tears flowed freely down Benjy’s cheeks. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Besides Sam, I mean. You know, I probably wouldn’t tell anyone but you this, but I’m kind of having a meltdown about Sam getting married.”
“You don’t like the guy?”
“No, it’s not that. He’s a great guy, and I’m really, really happy for her. But I just feel… well, I feel like I’m losing her. I know that sounds stupid.”
Oliver glanced at him before refocusing his attention on the road. “No, it doesn’t. That’s how I felt with Amanda. Since I was so fat, I felt really cut off from most people. Isolated, I guess. She was my one true friend, and it was scary knowing things would never be the same for us.”
“So you do get it.”
“You’ll get over it. You’ll be fine, trust me. Your relationship with Sam will change, but you’ll always be close. And you’ll continue to make new friends.”