Woman of Substance

by Bower, Annette

“Great idea, Ron. You don’t mind leftovers, Robbie?” Her mother tied an apron around her sweater with Rudolph’s red nose flashing on and off.

  “I love Dad’s leftovers. I’ll set the table.” Robbie joined in the chorus of “Winter Wonderland.” She rolled up the wax that pressed against her gums and tossed it in the garbage, then put her wig into her coat sleeve so she wouldn’t forget it.

  During dinner, they talked about her parents’ upcoming trip to Halifax for a medical convention, Christmas dinner, and their tradition of sharing their commitments they had made the prior Christmas. Robbie helped clear the table. Then she straightened her wig in the hall mirror, put on her coat, scarf, and gloves, and hugged her mom and dad. “Thanks, I needed you.”

  “You’re welcome, Robbie. Be patient. Grief is tough,” her mother said.

  During the drive back along the highway to Regina, she nibbled on the inside of her cheek. An idea formed in her mind. If Jake were a girlfriend, she’d console and listen, perhaps prepare a meal and share memories. She would pick up some food, a bottle of wine, and go to his hotel room. Instead of going directly home, she swerved into a mall, purchased her supplies, and hurried back to her car.

  She felt powerful as she held onto the guest telephone.

  “Hello,” Jake answered groggily.

  Robbie had an image of his features awakening from sleep, his hand brushing through his hair. She had to keep this real to stay grounded. Perhaps he had spittle running down his chin. Better.

  “Hi. It’s Robbie,” she said with a bright voice. “Can I come up?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to be your friend.”

  “I have friends.”

  “Please, for Frank’s sake.”

  “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

  The clerk’s gaze skimmed over her heavy walking shoes, her gloved hands holding a straw picnic basket. When he went back to his paperwork, Robbie decided he must have determined she wasn’t a problem visitor.

  When Jake’s door swung open, she heard the shower running. Her mind scurried toward Jake standing naked under a flow of water. Ignoring the stab of desire, she focused on the task.

  She dragged the flowered spread from the bed. The quilted fabric wafted Jake’s scent when she shook it out and placed it on the floor next to the window. She unpacked votive candles from the basket and set them on a tray in the middle of the blanket. They didn’t need the sprinklers going off because of a fire. If she weren’t careful, her rising heat would set off the sensors. She fanned her face with a newspaper that had been on the end table. She hadn’t been this warm at her parents. She unwrapped the fresh barbecued chicken, a baguette, assorted slices of cheese, some raw vegetables and dip, a bottle of wine, and finally, wine glasses.

  She carefully eased her padded body onto the blanket, careful not to move the tray with candles. The steam from the shower seeped around the edges of the bathroom door and she breathed deeply, picturing a meadow where a doe and her fawn stood at the edge of calm, clear water. The maple tree branches created shade for the pastoral scene. Strange groaning and belching sounds echoed in the woods just before a buck displaying a huge antler rack crashed through the clearing. She shook her head. It’s too soon for rutting season.

  She poured herself a glass of wine with a shaking hand, then took a quick sip and nibbled on the vegetables and dip. What was going on? Friends don’t think about their friends naked with imagined groaning sounds.

  The bathroom door opened and Jake stood before her. Beneath the hotel terry robe she saw his long, muscular legs, his hair moist on his shimmering skin. Her gaze traveled past the loosely tied belt to the curly sprinkling of hair, which peeked out from the V front of his bathrobe, up past his taut neck muscles to his chin. She noted the frown around his lips, his puzzled eyes, and his furrowed brow.

  “Robin?”

  “I called, remember?

  “You said Robbie.”

  “It is me.” Her voice shook.

  “Is this some sort of joke, or just another little experiment?” His voice was hard.

  Robbie braced her body with a straight arm and stared up at him. “It’s not a joke. I’m your friend.”

  He eyed her suspiciously and strolled over and sank down onto the blanket. “I’ll play your little game for awhile. I’ve become used to having you around. Let’s see how you deal with the feelings that are welling up inside me now as I glance at this chicken breast. Under the skin, it is smooth, white, and tasty.” He spoke in a lecturer/scientist’s voice as she watched him reach for a bunch of grapes. “Or how about these grapes you’ve brought, associated with the god, Dionysus, a deity of fertility and procreation. And grape juice which can be made into wine has aphrodisiac virtues.”

  Robbie gulped audibly.

  “Consciously, Robin, Robbie, you may be saying ‘friend’ but subconsciously you’re telling me a different tale.”

  She straightened her back, then placed her arms on her hips, her feet stretched out in front of her. As Robin, she really did take up a lot of space. “Men!” she cried. “Does everything have to be brought down to sex? Can’t we just talk?”

  “Sure, I’ll try, but you’re going to get a little experiment back. I see the way your eyes are lingering. Another part of your brain is wondering if, indeed, I’m wearing underwear, sort of like the proverbial question, ‘What does a Scotsman wear under his kilt?’ I’ll share your picnic. We’ll see who wins.”

  “Wins! Wins! This isn’t a game. It’s our lives.” She banged her heel against the floral spread. Then a little voice nagged at her and she acquiesced. “You’re right, a part of me does want to know what’s under your robe but we have my suit to protect us.”

  “Hey, is that why some women are fat? Do you think they’re actually trying to protect themselves from lust and men? Have they sabotaged themselves into believing that men are not good enough unless they’re able to see past their body image?”

  “Is that why your grandmother was fat?”

  He took a big gulp from his glass. “I don’t know. Let’s just eat and get this over with so I can go back to sleep.” He set his plate aside. “Unless you have other persuasive methods, my mood is suddenly and certainly gone.”

  She blinked back tears. “I know that I always try too hard but I wanted to be with you. I miss Frank, too. I tried to think of what I’d do for a female friend. Picnics are usually considered fun. People sit around in the sun, nibble food, and talk.” She wiped her face with a napkin.

  “Jake, would you tell me about the gathering at Care Manor? I couldn’t stay.”

  He was silent for a long time, then said, “Granddad was a celebrity. Family members of past and present Care Manor residents sent flowers and shook my hand. Apparently he always sent flowers whether the family wanted them or not. It was his way of celebrating a life. I met past neighbors and his past coworkers and of course church members. It was gratifying to be hugged and shaking hands with those whose lives he had touched.”

  “Sounds like a celebration of a life well lived,” she said.

  “That’s what it was. My head knows that it was better for him to be finally free of the cancer, but my heart is another thing.”

  He brought his glass to his mouth and sipped the red liquid, then held the glass in his hands and studied her. “Okay, if we are going to spend this time together, I need you to do something for me, too.” His eyes narrowed. “I want you to start moving away from your disguise. How about taking off your wig”—he scrubbed his hand over his chin—“and . . .” He paused. “Let’s see, shoes and socks? That way I can see some of you that I know is in there.”

  “But, I’ll look like a clown.”

  “We all have to make sacrifices. I have to sit here in this robe because I’m not going to get dressed just to get
undressed again. So you, too, can look a little foolish.”

  Robbie tugged off her wig, gave her head a shake, and ran her fingers through her hair. She slipped her shoes off without untying them.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Push your shoes off like that without untying them?”

  “Oh,” she said. “It’s just easier than bending over. It’s hard to get past this middle.”

  “That explains why grandma used to do that.” His voice was thoughtful. “Her stockings were always in a roll at her ankles, too, and that sure didn’t make her look like any of the other kids’ moms.”

  Robbie nodded. “I know. The elastic usually slinks down to the narrowest point.”

  She watched him reach for some cheese and bread. “Would you help me with this sock, please?”

  He reached over and removed her sock. Then dropped it as if it were burning his fingers. “Talk about body memory,” he said. “I’d wince when Grandma would ask me to remove hers. Yet I’d watch Granddad as he would kneel and gently pull off her stockings then massage the ridges in her flesh. When I was young, I used to trace my finger around the grove and wonder at the dent in her skin. I’d ask if it hurt. She’d shake her head and laugh and tell me that I was tickling her with my fairy tracks. It made me feel special.”

  “What else do you remember, before you became aware that she was different?” Robbie asked as Jake rubbed the pads of his thumb along the sole of her foot.

  “When she hugged me, I felt so safe and loved.”

  “There are advantages to being a larger size. For a long time women felt protected by big men.” She closed her eyes and a small murmur escaped from her throat as she reveled in the contact between his flesh and hers. He slowly entwined his fingers between her toes. An erotic pleasure burst through her core. “No!” she said as she jerked her foot away.

  “What are you doing?” His hand clamped down on her ankle.

  “I’m getting up. Let me go.” She tried to lift her foot.

  “Not yet.” He eased up on the pressure.

  She looked into his eyes. “I don’t think I can stand it much longer if you continue to tempt me. Who would have thought a foot massage could be so stimulating?” She attempted to laugh.

  “You could give in.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re right. I could give in, but then what? I want something more, not just a bedmate.”

  “You’re asking a lot from a man who just buried his grandfather today. I’d like to comply and be soft and sentimental, but right now, I’d rather just put my head on a women’s breast and have her make nice to me.”

  “You want a mother?”

  “Robin, Robbie. Damn.” He stood and walked over and started to remove the belt on his robe. “Right now I’m not analyzing. I’m going to bed.”

  Robbie busied herself so she wouldn’t watch. She slammed paper plates, chicken, and glasses into the basket. Her frustration dissipated as she turned to see Jake’s back turned to her, wrapped in the blanket and sheet with his arm folded across his chest. The bedside lights were out. She quietly advanced, moved a chair beside the bed, then sat down. “If I could, I’d take away your pain. I’d help you feel like yourself again.”

  She heard his slowed breathing. His neck muscles relaxed. Light from the Christmas street decorations gave the room a warm glow.

  “In your hours of deepest need, I wasn’t there. I would have liked to be but I’m not sure how much my presence would have helped. Frank was your father.” She slowly ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.”

  She rubbed her hand across her eyes and swallowed a lump of grief. “I wish we could cry together, and someday perhaps we’ll remember his wit and you’ll tell me more about the years you shared together.” His shoulders were pliable to her touch.

  Her breasts felt heavy and she was glad she had the body suit on because the temptation to crawl in behind him was immense.

  She imagined herself in his embrace with her whispering words of love, but those words couldn’t change the grief or mend a torn friendship. She would hold onto her resolve. She was going to demonstrate her friendship to Jake. She kissed him gently on his temple. She untied her laces, tugged her socks over each foot and slipped into her shoes, double-knotted them and left the room.

  Robbie drove home and thought about what she wanted. She wanted Jake to accept her friendship and maybe it would lead to love. She wanted to love and be loved.

  Jake was right. She needed to be herself. It was time to mend the split between Robbie and Robin. She would have to accept her own package and all the baggage that went along with it. She would need to be mindful of the advantages that it brought to her. As soon as she got home, she would pack up the torso of the body suit.

  Jake rolled over toward the spot where he had felt warmth emanating while he slept only to see an empty chair. The folded bedspread now occupied the space. He wandered over to the window in time to watch Robin exit from the building, struggling as the wind whipped at her coat and pulled at the picnic basket. He felt as if everything had been a dream. She was a lithe runner but she was also a round fleshy woman, all breasts, abdomen, and thighs. But she had been there. She didn’t run away from his grief. She didn’t ask him to forget it. She accepted it. Accepted him.

  Though desperate for some sleep, he found he couldn’t. Instead he paced around his hotel room and finally his eyes settled on the old locker. He went through his grandfather’s wallet and found a key, then unlocked the clasp and lifted the lid and found a-life-in-a-box. Jake was astounded to find a letter addressed to him in his grandfather’s familiar script. Simple and direct, his grandfather was telling him to discover his own roots, rather than only those of ancient tribes. “Son, you’ll be a better man for it.”

  Jake carried the locker over to the table and began an anthropological study, sifting through pages and pictures, attempting to make sense of his past. With a sense of distance and a professional attitude, he laid things out chronologically, in years and decades. His eyes skimmed photographs curling at the corners. There were yellowed envelopes addressed in fountain pen script, both of his grandparent’s handwriting. Love letters, not spilling over with only sentimentality but of shared feelings of apology, and sorrow. It seemed as if Frank and Mabel had kept their love alive with this long lost art of communication.

  He crossed his legs and poured some of the red wine that Robin had left behind. The red was like the breast of a robin, the light reflecting through the glass like the twinkle in a bird’s eyes. Although this image was not what he predicted, it was a fitting description of the Robin he knew. She was flashy in an unusual way, with alert eyes that explored her world. She was strong. Even though he told her he couldn’t forgive her deception toward him and Frank the most, she had honored Frank in the shape he trusted. Jake took a big gulp. She didn’t stay away from his grief and approach him as if nothing of importance happened. She came to share his sorrow. His universe did not give him what he expected. He put down his glass and gathered his clothes quickly. He’d left her phone number in his office but he knew where she lived. If her lights were on, he’d knock on her door and tell her he forgave her and he’d like to start over. He understood that the immersion in a culture under study was important because it helped researchers learn. He should have understood that she needed to become less visible and lessen the observer effect. While he put on his pants, he also acknowledged, I just don’t like to be the observed. Guess he’d had some of his own medicine.

  Chapter 16

  Once home, Robbie parked the car in the garage and pressed the button and the garage door groaned with metal against metal while it rolled into place. Mrs. Mitchell’s Christmas lawn ornaments twinkled in the crisp night air. She carried the picnic basket into the kitchen. She didn’
t even want to look at it again. She turned on the stove light’s soft glow. Why, oh why, did she have to go to extremes? If she would have visited Jake without the suit, she would probably be in bed with him right now. Her lips puckered with a desire to connect to Jake’s. She leaned her forehead against the cool refrigerator. She could have followed her fingers that had massaged his scalp with kisses on his earlobes, his neck. If she hadn’t resisted the temptation to capture his tongue as it slid across his lips while he relaxed, they both would be comforted by a warm, willing body, right now. Instead, she was home climbing the stairs to her bed all alone. She turned on a bedside lamp and shed her outer shell, her arms sliding from a sleeve that provided dangling triceps, and tugged the torso with a double-D cup away from her body revealing a B underneath. Her nipples were erect and ached.

  Stop this. Yes, he is a handsome man, but I need to gain his trust. I want to be his friend first.

  She stood under the shower and thought about the friends she’d made during different classes throughout her student days and during the semesters when they helped each other out and then they went their separate ways. Her relationship with Jake was similar to that, wasn’t it? She and Jake learned from each other and helped each other for a time and now it was time to accept this. She vigorously dried her hair. No more thoughts about sharing a bed, a life together with a man she hardly knew. Sure he was kind. Sure he was funny. Sure he wanted a family.

  He had traveled and experienced other cultures. Sure he seemed to like her, but so did many other people. He’d probably leave again. There wasn’t anything to hold him here now.

  While she cleaned the torso one last time, the cleaning cloth blurred before her eyes. The suit felt as if it had taken on extra weight when she positioned it on the hanger. She gave her teeth a cursory brush and promised to floss in the morning. Once in bed, she tucked the covers under her chin. Her forehead felt hot to the touch. Her stomach ached. She dozed fitfully, only to wake up with a gripping abdominal pain. She rushed to the bathroom and vomited. She lay with her cheek on the cool tub until she had the strength to shuffle slowly back to her bed. Was it something she ate? The moment she put her head down, the room started moving. Great, add sick to the list of things wrong with her. She reached for the phone and hit the speed dial for her parents’ home.