by Becky Siame
Jae keeps me by his side for the rest of the grand opening, which doesn’t last much longer. He passes the test I hoped he’d pass, treating me the same in public as he does in private or with my friends.
I, however, don’t earn the seal of approval from his friends. Jae escorts me from one group or couple or individual to the next introducing me, but their reactions are the same: a brief smile, a limp handshake, and a, “Where did you meet Jae?” None are amused that we met in a grocery store. One woman turns to Jae and asks, “You actually do your own shopping?” Their eyes are the same, full of disgust and hatred.
Much to my relief, Jae leaves me with Chuck at the counter inside the store when he hurries off to chat with a couple of investors as they are leaving.
“Enjoying yourself?” Chuck inquires, leaning over the counter.
I glance around at the overdressed crowd. “About as much as I would a root canal without anesthesia.”
Chuck roars with laughter, earning a few dirty looks, and pops open a bottle of beer and hands it to me. Diet or no, I take a long swig. “Yeah, everyone in this bunch acts like they’ve got a broomstick stuck up their ass,” he comments.
“And a fly up their nose. What is their problem?” I ask, elbow on the counter and looking over the store. “Are all Jae’s friends this way?”
Chuck takes a swig from his bottle. “Fashion industry folk are as shallow as they come.”
I open my mouth to ask another question but several people approach for more beer and Chuck gets distracted. I move out of the way, but not before hearing a whisper, “That’s disgusting. Is he really that desperate? He should get back together with Amanda if that’s the best he can find. What does he see in her?”
“Not much, probably - there’s too much fat to see anything.”
I don’t turn to see who is talking and instead walk back to the storage room to sit in the employee break area to nurse my sorrows with the rest of the beer. What did I do to deserve such ire? Was I really that repulsive to them? I was used to the disapproval of strangers, but this hostility took it to a whole new level.
“There you are. What are you doing back here?” Jae finds me a half an hour later.
“Just resting my feet,” I smile as if everything’s okay.
“Everyone’s almost gone now, so we can leave in a few minutes. How does dinner sound?” Jae asks.
“Great. I’m famished,” I lie. My stomach is in knots and I doubt I can hold anything down.
We watch the last of the guests drive away, leaving the parking lot looking as forlorn as I feel. It’s a relief to be alone with Jae, yet I’m overwhelmed by the fact that I don’t fit in with his crowd.
Jae waggles his eyebrows. “I promised you a date and it’s not all business this time, so I made reservations at The Boatshed on the waterfront.”
The Boatshed was an upscale restaurant in Nelson. I’d never been there, but Mika often met with his business associates and wealthy clients there for lunch meetings, so I know it is high-class. “Jae, I’m not really dressed for the occasion,” I pointed out.
“We can swing by your place if you want to change,” he says. “I think you look fine.”
We drive back to Nelson in my car. Jae had hitched a ride with a friend on the way down in order to be able to ride back with me. During the ride he inquires about my dad getting his brace off and asks after the kids, but most of his talk centres on the grand opening.
“What did you think? It got lots of press coverage. That’s going to be good for business.” he says.
“You had a great turnout,” I reply, unable to think of something better to say.
“Yeah, it was a great turnout. I don’t expect any of them to become patrons, but it was nice of them to show up to show their support.”
“It was nice of them,” I agree.
Back at my house I throw on my black Grecian dress and apply just a dash of lipstick and blush, and then we’re off to The Boatshed . We are seated at a table on the veranda overlooking the bay. Lights from the city reflect off the water, looking like stars. It doesn’t get more romantic than this, but I feel like crap.
Everything about our dinner is the exact opposite of my date with Wesley. Jae is the epitome of a gentleman, attentive to my needs, constantly complimenting my looks, and lapsing into moments of silence when he just sits there gazing into my eyes.
But I can’t enjoy it. What does he see in me that his friends don’t? Why does he like me, compared to all those skinny, beautiful, stuck-up women?
“You know, several companies have already booked company outings with Go 4 It over the next few months. We’re looking really busy.”
“You can’t ask for a better way to kick-start your business.”
Jae leans closer to me. “But not too busy to spend more time with you, which I really want to do - if that’s all right with you.”
“Of course it is,” I nod. “I look forward to it.”
Jae places his hand over mine. “We really need to expand our repertoire, move away from produce sections and fruit and vegetable juggling.”
Now that makes me feel a little better. “And I’d like to try out other experimental recreational activities - you know, besides bungee jumping and quad biking, though those are a blast.”
“Sure,” Jae moves even closer. “How does jet skiing sound?”
As long as I don’t sink the jet ski? “Fast and wet,” I reply.
Jae turns red, trying to hold in his laughter. “Now you’re doing it. I’m a bad influence.”
“No,” I shake my head and place my other hand on top of his. “You’re a very good influence.”
Jae picks up my hand and plants the lightest of kisses on it, sending a thrill through me from head to toe.
I fall into bed that night, tingling from the memory of that kiss. But the weight in my stomach won’t go away. I’m used to being ashamed because of my weight; I’d come to grips with the fact that Mika left me because of my weight; so how can I expect Jae to want to be with me? His ghastly friends made it clear that I wasn’t accepted. It is a matter of time before Jae sees that I don’t fit in his world and he walks away.
What does he see in her? Not much, probably - there’s too much fat to see anything, the voices whisper. I pull the covers over my head in shame. That’s my problem. It always has been. There’s too much fat for anyone to see the real me. Sure, Jae likes what he sees so far, but what has he seen? It can’t be that much, and that thought disturbs me. I want him to see more than fat. I want him to see the real me.
I must do something about it.
•
Monday morning, instead of heading for the gym after dropping the kids off at school, I return home and browse the internet for lap band surgeons. I call a few but am told that it will be two to three weeks before I can get an appointment. I finally get results with the sixth doctor.
“Dr Wilson has an opening this morning at 9:30 a.m.,” says the nurse on the other end of the line.
“I’ll be there!” I nearly shout and rush out the door. The doctor’s office is on a complex of doctors’ offices near Nelson Hospital. The building looks fairly new. “Which means higher rent, which means high doctor bills,” I mutter as I pull into a parking space on the street and hurry inside.
As per Sands orders, I avoid the lift and climb the stairs to the third floor. I’m panting when I reach the top and have to spend a few minutes regaining my breath and composure before entering an office marked with the sign, “Dr Warren Wilson, MD Bariatric Surgeon.”
After filling out piles of paperwork, I’m weighed and measured and placed in an exam room to wait. On the wall is the cover of a magazine which declares, “Top 100 Bariatric Surgeons in the Pacific Islands,” with a full shot of a handsome man in a white lab coat. The caption reads, “Dr Warren Wilson.” I’m glad to see he’s an islander.
I settle back with a magazine, prepared to wait forever and a day for the good doctor to show up, as what usually
happens when I’m at the doctor’s, when the door opens and in breezes a man reading a file. “Hello, I’m Dr Wilson,” he says and shakes my hand. He sits on a revolving stool and continues to read the file for a few more seconds. “So tell me why you want bariatric surgery.”
“To lose weight faster,” I admit. “I’ve been dieting and exercising for just over a month now…”
“Good, excellent,” he nods.
“But the pounds aren’t coming off as fast as I’d like them to. It’s that simple.”
Dr Wilson crosses his arms. “No, it’s not that simple. Bariatric surgery will cause you to lose weight quickly, but you still have to eat right, eat in moderation, get enough water and exercise a day. It’s just as much a lifestyle change as a true diet is. By that I mean not a fad diet, but changing those bad eating habits and substituting them with healthy foods with low-fat content.”
“I understand,” I nod eagerly. “I’m in this for the long haul.”
“Right,” he nods. He then hands me a pamphlet on the types of weight loss surgery available and launches into an overview of them. He uses lots of big words and it seems very complicated. My brain can’t process it all: malabsorbtive, restrictive, duodenal switch, biliopancreatic diversion, lap band, sleeve gastrectomy, and Roux-en-Y gastric bypass are some of the words thrown out and which mean nothing to me, except for lap band.
“The procedure I do most often is the laparoscopic gastric banding,” Dr Wilson says. “I cut a single incision in the belly button to avoid scarring and then insert the band around the top of the stomach, creating a pocket about the size of a golf ball. The band can be inflated or deflated by pumping fluids in or out of it. The procedure takes only about thirty minutes to an hour, and you’ll be home by that evening if all goes well.”
“Really? That’s good,” I say.
Dr Wilson nods. “It is a relatively simple procedure. It’s the work-up and follow-up which takes more time. You’ll need a pre-op screening of blood tests, imaging, a gastroscopy - that’s where I’ll insert a camera down your throat to examine your esophagus, stomach, and duodenum. For follow-up, you’ll return every four to six weeks so I can adjust the band as you lose weight. We can also discuss your diet and activities to see where you can improve on those, if need be.”
Dr Wilson talks more about the procedure, the post-op diet, and the risks involved, but all I can think of is how great I’ll look standing next to Jae in my new, slim body, chatting with his snobby friends.
“Side effects include heartburn, diarrhea, constipation, gastritis, ulceration . . .”
No one will ever feel sorry for Jae again and think he’s desperate.
“Risks range from perforation of the stomach or esophagus, thrombosis, blood vessel damage, spleen or liver damage…”
I’ll show Tiresa, Mika, and Jae’s crowd the real me, the full me. I even picture Simon the Orange Suit, kissing up and acting all smarmy because now I am the person to know, the It girl of Nelson.
“Do you have any questions?” Dr Wilson brings me back to reality. It dawns on me that he’s been talking for quite some time and I haven’t heard a word.
“No, I think you’ve covered it.” I’ve made my decision. I’m going to get lap band surgery.
“All right,” he says shutting my folder and handing me a stack of papers. “Here’s more information on the procedure, as well as forms for you to fill out about your health history. And here’s information on insurance and my fees. If you do have any questions, feel free to call the office.” He shakes my hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you and I hope you’ll call soon to set up a time for those pre-op tests.”
I bounce down the stairs, excited about the days to come. I am going to look better than Tiresa. All with just a simple surgery.
I drop into the driver’s seat of my car and glance over Dr Wilson’s fee sheet - and my heart sinks. The numbers mock me in black and white: $15,000.
My dream fizzles away. $15,000? I don’t have that kind of money and I know my insurance won’t cover even a smidgen of the cost. I chew on a fingernail. Is there anyone I can borrow the money from? Mama Rose, perhaps? And then I feel ashamed. I’m struggling to get by as it is and here I am planning to get what boils down to be cosmetic surgery. I am a selfish person and a horrible mother and daughter to be thinking of myself when there are others who need money, like Dad and his mountain of medical bills.
If it felt bad to watch Jae’s phone number fly away in the wind, it was ten thousand times worse to watch my weight loss surgery dream dissolve in the sniggers and sneers of the grand opening crowd. I will never be one of that crowd.
And then it dawns on me. I know exactly who I can get the money from.
•
“Mr Fomai, there’s a Ms White here to see you,” the receptionist says into the intercom.
“I’ll be right out,” I hear Mika say as I sit on a plush, scarlet, sofa in the waiting area of Fomai & Associates Barristers at Law.
Mika appears in the hallway behind the receptionist’s desk. I overhear her whisper, “I’m really sorry, Mr. Fomai, she doesn’t have an appointment but insisted she see you right away. She claims she’s your ex-wife.” She rolls her eyes.
“Thank you, Miss Rogers. She is,” Mika says. Miss Rogers turns red and suddenly becomes engrossed in the files on her desk.
Mika approaches me. “Bella, what’s up? Are the kids all right?”
“Yes, they’re fine,” I stand. “I need to speak with you about something important.”
“Sure, let’s step in my office,” Mika says and leads the way. I catch Miss Rogers glancing at me out of the corner of her eye in obvious disbelief. Once inside his office Mika shuts the door and motions for me to take a seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he says as he sits behind his desk, obviously trying to keep it light. It’s the first time I’ve been in his office since he left me.
“I need to ask a favor,” I say.
“You know I’ll do anything for you. Just name it.”
I sigh. “I need $15,000.”
Mika’s eyebrows rise right up to the roots of his hairline. Not that $15,000 is a large sum to him. I am sure he lost that much on his and Tiresa’s first overseas holiday together in Las Vegas the week after he left me. I also know about the money he has squirreled away in offshore accounts all across the South Pacific, besides investments and bribes taken. It is the fact that I am now asking for so much after having refused to accept a cent from him after the divorce.
“Sure, Bella, I can do that.”
“Thanks,” I say with a sigh of relief. “I did the math and figured if you had paid alimony, that’s a pittance compared to what I would have gotten up to this point, so if you’re wondering…”
“Bella, I wanted to pay alimony…”
“I know, but…”
“But it doesn’t matter now. Just hear me out. I am more than happy to give you the money. Not a loan, but a gift, okay?”
I wonder what he will inevitably require in repayment. Perhaps another tumble in the sack? There is always a catch when getting into bed with the devil. I learned that about him years ago: the catch was that I stayed under 60kgs whilst playing the role of his wife and gopher. “Okay. Thank you.”
“I take it you need this money as soon as possible?”
“Yes, that would good.”
Mika opens a desk draw and pulls out a check book. “I’ll call my banker to let him know you’re coming. He’ll take care of you.”
The silence is loud as Mika writes out the check. I play with the strap on my ratty purse. Finished, he rips out the check and hands it to me. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No. That’s all.”
“Would you like to have brunch?” Mika asks.
I shake my head. “I can’t. I have to go to the gym and check in on Dad.”
“The gym? You’re working out?”
“Yes,” I reply, not offering any more information.<
br />
Mika nods. “You do look like you’ve lost weight. Good for you.”
“Thanks,” I stand. “I’ve got to go.”
Mika sighs. “Maybe some other time. But one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“May I ask what the money is for? I know it’s none of my business and I said it’s a gift, but I am curious. Do you need a new car? I can get you a nice one.”
“No, it’s not for a new car. I’m having surgery.”
Mika sits up straight. “Surgery? What’s wrong?”
I chuckle. “I’m fat, that’s what’s wrong. I’m getting lap band surgery.”
Mika sits back in his chair, relieved. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Why?”
I laugh. “What do you mean ‘why’? I no longer want to be the big fat cow sitting on the couch eating chocolate, as you used to call me. I’m fat and I want to lose weight fast. It’s not easy to lose weight, you know.”
“No, I just…” Mika trails off. Successful lawyer, smooth talker, and he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I wish you the best and hope it works out.”
“Oh, and one more favor?”
“Name it,” Mika says.
“I don’t want Tiresa to know about the money. Things are bad enough between us and something like this is just going to send her over the edge. We’ll both have a lot more peace if she’s kept in the dark.”
Mika nods. “I agree with you one hundred percent. That is a headache we should avoid.”
I turn to go but pause. “Thanks, Mika. This really means a lot to me.”
He gets up from his desk and puts out a hand out but I shie away. “Like I said, if you need anything else, let me know,” he says.
I rush out of his office, hoping this is the last thing I’ll ever need from him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Is there any feeling quite as thrilling as shopping for clothes and finding you have to go down a size?”
FROM BELLA’S BLOG