by Jeff Erno
“You know I lost a lot of weight.”
Ethan nodded.
“Very quickly… or, um, relatively quickly. Anyway, I have loose skin. Eventually I’ll have surgery.”
Ethan’s head tilted slightly to the side, but he continued to smile. He seemed uncertain what to think of Oliver’s words.
Oliver held out his left arm. “See.” At first the arm appeared fairly normal as he flexed his bicep, but when he reached over with his right and pulled against the skin, it sagged, stretching a good three inches below his arm.
“What the fuck.” Ethan laughed.
“My legs are the worst and my abs. I have to wear the compression suit because, even though I have pretty much tightened my abdominals by working out, they just look like… well, hideous. They look like pizza dough or something.”
“Pizza dough?” The smile began to fade, draining from Ethan’s face. “It’s cool.” He shrugged. “You don’t… you don’t have to take off your clothes.”
“I don’t?”
“We can… ya know, do other things.” He took hold of Oliver’s wrist and pulled it downward to press it against his bulge. He reached up with his other hand, grasped Oliver’s shoulder, and pressed downward. “Why don’t you… ya know….”
Startled, Oliver pulled his hand away. “No, I don’t know.”
Smiling, Ethan raised his eyebrows. “But you promised dessert, right?”
“Ethan, are you telling me that you don’t want to see me naked because… because of my loose skin?”
Ethan raised both hands in the air, his expression sobering a bit. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just… I don’t want to embarrass you or anything.”
“I’m not embarrassed.” Ironically, his face grew red hot. “I’m not embarrassed. I’m pissed! Why should I be embarrassed of my loose skin? I’m fucking proud of my loose skin. I’m very comfortable in it.”
Ethan turned, took a step away, and then spun back around. “Are you crazy or something?”
“Huh?”
“You’re acting like a crazy person.”
Oliver’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Stunned, he allowed the tingling sensation to travel along his extremities and down his spine. That’s exactly what he’d said to Benjy.
“You know what?” His voice was barely a whisper. “I think I am. I was crazy to believe you. Crazy to come here with you.” His voice grew louder. “Every little detail about you—your fancy sports car and luxury condo, your designer clothes and gilded classic books you never read—let me guess. You hired someone to do your coursework and complete your theme papers in college—it’s all bullshit.
“You have a great body, Ethan. It’s perfect. Not an ounce of fat, every muscle rippling. Perfect hair and teeth too. I’ve always dreamed of being with a guy like you. I’d always dreamed of being you. But that’s all you have. You’re nothing but pretense.”
Ethan hardly seemed fazed by Oliver’s outburst. Maybe he’d heard the speech before. He stood with his arms crossed. “Are you done?”
“Very much so.”
“Then leave.”
Recalling suddenly that he had no car, he shook his head in astonishment. “What’s your address?”
“Huh?”
“Your fucking address! So I can call a cab.”
Chapter Eighteen
AS HE sat on the curb at the end of the condominium entrance, awaiting the arrival of his cab, Oliver considered simply walking to Devon’s condo. He’d promised to attend Devon’s beach party this weekend, but Ethan would most likely be there. What would Devon think about what had happened tonight? Would he make excuses for his friend? Would he be equally shallow? Maybe he would. They were two peas in a pod, so to speak. According to Ethan, Devon was just another spoiled rich boy, inheritor of his family’s wealth.
When the cab pulled in, a minivan with a plastic mounted sign on the roof that read TAXI, Oliver barely had the energy to hoist himself up to his feet. The driver, perhaps not much older than Oliver, smiled warmly as Oliver opened the side door and climbed inside.
“Hey, man, where ya headed?” The folds of the young man’s neck formed a double, if not triple, chin. His chubby hands, fingers puffy like a Cabbage Patch, gripped the steering wheel. Oliver’s heart cracked down the center. He smiled meekly and gave the driver his address.
As they drove to Oliver’s house, he learned the cabbie’s name was Leonard. He was twenty-three, working part-time as he completed his four-year degree. It seemed almost like looking into a mirror, the reflection being a former version of himself. Oliver judged Leonard to be approximately the same weight he had once been, and he recalled how his stomach used to press against the steering wheel as he sat behind the driver’s seat. And like him, Leonard smiled a lot, appeared happy and unconcerned about his nearly two hundred pounds of excess baggage, but Oliver knew it was on his mind every second of every minute of every day.
What could he say? What words would make a difference in this stranger’s life? Could he ever even begin to explain his journey? No, it wasn’t something he could convey with words. Had someone tried to talk to Oliver back then—back when he was so overweight—and said they used to be fat but lost a lot of weight, Oliver wouldn’t have been encouraged. He’d have been mortified. He’d have been reminded of his repeated failures. He might even have rationalized, made excuses for why he was different.
And who knows? Maybe this young man was different. Maybe he suffered a medical condition. Maybe he used to weigh eight hundred pounds and was already halfway on his journey. Maybe he didn’t care at all but had accepted himself as overweight. How could one assume things about another?
But when the van at last pulled into Oliver’s drive, he leaned forward, patted Leonard on the shoulder as he handed him a fifty, and told him to keep the change. Leonard turned to him, his eyes wide with surprise. “Are you sure, man?”
“Positive.” He paused for a couple seconds. “Leonard, please take care of yourself.”
“I will. You too, and… thank you. Thank you very much.”
FRIDAY MORNING, the day after his disastrous “date” with Ethan, Oliver headed reluctantly to the gym. Though the possibility of a dreadful confrontation with Ethan loomed, he refused to allow fear to control him. His workout routines were too important, not because he envisioned himself one day possessing a body like Ethan or Devon, but because he cared about his health. He cared about his own well-being. He truly liked being thinner, not only because he looked and felt better, but also because he was worth the effort.
The first half of his night had been fitful. He’d tossed and turned, even sat up for a while on the edge of his bed, mulling over all that had happened. He’d decided to have a talk with Devon, which was another reason he hadn’t foregone his morning workout routine. He’d politely decline his invitation to the party but not by spinning a lie. He at least owed it to his friend to be honest. He wasn’t comfortable around Ethan and probably would not bring much joy to the party. He wasn’t going to insert himself into a situation that could turn ugly, where a scene could ruin the event for others.
If Devon wanted to maintain their friendship, Oliver was fine with that. They might be able to find some common ground, and cultivating a new friendship could prove worth the effort. But that was as far as Oliver was interested in going with the gorgeous jock. Oliver didn’t want a relationship with him, nor with any of the other buff gym bunnies. Oliver wanted Benjy.
After his workout, he’d go into work, and he’d find Benjy. He’d track him down and corner him if he had to. He’d force him to listen. The whole situation had been a mistake—no, a major fuckup on Oliver’s part. He’d been insensitive and selfish. He’d told Benjy to quit acting like a crazy person, knowing he suffered a mental illness. He’d expected Benjy to face a challenge he wasn’t yet ready to tackle. Instead of being supportive, Oliver had been demanding.
And the Facebook thing… that too was reprehensible. H
e never should have gone to meet Ethan at the café. He should have gone back to Benjy’s to apologize, to work out an amenable plan for the day, and do something together Benjy was capable of handling.
As he pushed through the entrance doors to the gym, he resolved to stay focused, complete his workout first, and then find Devon. As he headed across the room toward the staircase, he heard someone call his name. He stopped in his tracks and turned. “Hey, Adam.”
“Oliver, wow. I’ve been hoping to catch up with you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Somewhat winded from rushing, Oliver sighed. “You know how it is, but everything’s going great. I’m using the protein supplements, right on track with my weight-loss goal. Probably should boost my resistance training a bit, but I’m taking it slow. I honestly don’t want to get really bulky.”
“Oliver, I said you’re doing great.” Adam laughed, and Oliver realized he was talking like a magpie. “I didn’t want to talk about any of that. I have a new client, and I’m hoping maybe you’d be willing to talk to him, maybe eventually become his workout partner.”
“Really?” Oliver smiled. “Why me?”
“Well….” He draped his arm around Oliver’s shoulder, turning him toward the front counter. “My new client, Leonard, is exactly the same height and weight you were when you started.”
Oliver’s mouth dropped open as he stared in shocked disbelief. “Leonard! My taxi driver!”
Adam and Oliver walked over to the counter, and when Leonard looked up and spotted Oliver headed in his direction, a broad smile lit up his face. “You’re my big tipper!” He pointed his finger, though not in an accusatory manner.
They shook hands, both laughing, and Oliver related his story. He told Leonard briefly how he’d been on his weight-loss journey for over a year now, and he’d pretty much achieved the goal he’d set out to accomplish. They chatted a couple more minutes, and Oliver answered questions about the process. They then agreed to meet later, after the weekend, when Leonard officially started his exercise routine.
Oliver was still smiling as he scurried down the staircase toward the locker room. He actually felt the extra bounce in his step, springing from the joy in his heart. Excitement and hope surged through him. He came to an abrupt halt just outside the door when he heard the cackle of laughter. He recognized the voices of AJ, Roger, Ethan, and Devon.
“Oh my God, you should have seen it. I about threw up.” Ethan was talking. “When he pulled down the skin under his arm, it looked like a fucking….” Oliver stepped forward slightly, just enough to see around the corner and watch Ethan shudder. He took a step back and leaned against the wall as he continued listening. “Like a freakish sea creature or something. You know how some animals have webbed feet.”
“Like frogs!” AJ blurted out.
“Yeah, like a frog or something. Then he had the fucking nerve to ask me if I wanted to see his stomach. He said his abs are like fucking pizza dough.”
The foursome again burst into hysterical laughter.
“Of course it’s like pizza dough,” Devon added, barely able to talk through his gale of fitful laughter. “He was a fucking manatee a few months ago. The fat might be gone, but the skin’s always going to be stretched out. Oh God! I just got a visual…. Ew! Please, God, no! Why can’t I unsee this?”
“I think you two should just call it a draw,” AJ said. “Do either one of you really want to have sex with that?”
“I was so fucking close, though! I had him in my house and everything. I could fucking be five hundred dollars richer right now, but hey, I forfeit. If you still want to try fucking him this weekend, Dev, have at it. It’ll be worth the money to pay you to keep him away from me.”
Suddenly Oliver was twelve years old again, in middle school. As he stood quietly against the wall, his face burning up, tears streamed down his cheeks. It had all been a ruse, a practical joke. They’d bet on him, wagering on which of them could fuck Oliver first. But not because he was any sort of prize. No, because he was the opposite.
His first impulse was to retreat, to turn tail and run as fast as he could out of that gym and never, ever come back. He looked straight ahead, staring at the opposite wall for moment as he blinked, then reached up to wipe away his tears. Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he turned and took a step into the archway of the locker-room door. He cleared his throat and stood there, staring straight at the foursome on the other side of the room.
“Oliver….” Devon’s smile evaporated as did those of the other three. Devon took a step toward Oliver, who held up his arm, palm out.
“I heard everything you said.”
“We were just—”
“Being the shallow, pretentious bitches you naturally are. Don’t bother making excuses or apologizing. I’d love to tell you all off, point out the litany of ethical, social, and mental deficiencies you each have, but it’s not worth my time. You wouldn’t get it. But it’s okay, you have each other. Sort of. As much as you ever will be capable of grasping the concept of a true friend.
“All I’m going to say is that I wish you well. Today for the first time in over a year, I’m skipping my workout routine. I have something more important to do. Two things, actually. I’m going upstairs to file a formal complaint about the four of you, requesting you be banned from the gym. I’ve read the antidiscrimination policy.”
“You can’t prove anything!” AJ shouted.
Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I have the whole thing on video, asswipe.” It was a bluff, but it seemed to work. Their four mouths dropped open.
“And when I’m done with the formal complaint, I’m going to go track down the only man who’s ever truly loved me… and who I love just as much… if he’ll take me back, that is.”
He spun on his heels and marched out of the locker room, straight up the stairs and to the front desk, where he indeed filled out the complaint, citing the four of them for terms of service, ethical, and antidiscrimination violations.
He smiled as he headed out the door a half hour later and drove as fast as he could to work.
WHEN HE made it to the second floor, with which he wasn’t all that familiar, Oliver glanced to his left and right. He spotted the supervisor and rushed over to her. “Laura, where’s Benjy’s cubicle?”
“Benjamin Erickson? You mean his office? It’s right down the hall, but he’s not in today.”
“He’s not?” He stared at her, shocked and crestfallen. “Um… why? If you don’t mind….”
“Well, he took a personal day, and Monday he starts his vacation. He’s flying to Missouri, I believe, to attend a wedding.”
Fuck. Benjy must have changed his flight to arrive earlier and go to the wedding rehearsal dinner after all. He allowed his shoulders to sag. “Laura, I know this is short notice, but you know I’ve hardly ever missed work, only one call-in in… like two years or something. Can I take a personal day today? I’m supposed to start vacation on Monday too. We’d planned the trip together, Benjy and me.”
“Well.” She pursed her lips. “You’re right, this is very short notice.”
“I’m begging you. Please! I’ll get on my knees….”
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. Yes, go ahead. You’re on vacation after today anyway. I’ll notify HR.”
“Oh, thank you!” He leaned in to offer a hug, extending his arms. When she didn’t respond, he hugged anyway—briefly. He quickly released her, and she looked at him, baffled, then smiled. Then he spun around and raced back down the hallway and down the steps to the front door.
Chapter Nineteen
OLIVER COULDN’T get a flight until late afternoon. By the time he arrived at the Kansas City Airport, it was already dark. He had a copy of the wedding invitation Benjy had given him months earlier when they’d first talked about vacationing together. Benjy had booked them a room at the Westin, so in all likelihood, that’s where he was. He might have changed his plans, though,
and decided to stay with his friend Samantha or her family.
Oliver took a seat in the baggage claim area, waiting for his suitcase to drop down on the turnstile. He pulled out his phone and tried calling Benjy. Of course, he got the same exact message he’d received the five or six other times he’d tried calling that morning. The number was not in service. Had Benjy changed phones? If so, was it specifically to avoid calls from Oliver? If he’d just gotten himself a new phone, he’d probably have elected to keep his number.
Maybe that meant Benjy wouldn’t even see Oliver, wouldn’t talk to him at all. Oliver didn’t want to make a scene. He didn’t want to interfere in any way with the wedding. If he did something out of line, Benjy would never forgive him. He was going to have to walk on eggshells when, and if, he did find Benjy, and simply try to find a way to get him alone so they could talk.
He took a cab to the Westin, and once there, explained to the desk clerk that he’d originally booked a room with Benjamin Erickson. She courteously nodded, a plastic smile on her face the entire time, and checked the computer. “I’m sorry. We have no reservation under that name. It looks like the room was canceled.”
Oliver sighed, disappointed. “Can I get a room of my own? Do you have any available?”
“Certainly.” She asked him a few questions about his preferences, and finally he had his key card.
Once inside his room, he plugged in his laptop and googled directions to the church. Fortunately he wasn’t far. Most likely, they had some sort of rehearsal tonight, since the wedding was the next day, unless they’d already had a rehearsal dinner earlier and Benjy was just going to follow the directions they gave him. As an attendant, he simply had to walk down the aisle and stand at the altar, then wait for the bride.
Oliver could only imagine the fear and anxiety that probably gripped Benjy at this very minute, and he chastised himself for not being with Benjy to help him through what was sure to be a stressful time for him. If only he’d called Benjy last night… then again, he probably wouldn’t have been able to. Benjy must have changed phones at some previous time. Oliver should have just gone to Benjy’s apartment and demanded he listen.