The Lighter Side of Large

by Becky Siame

  “Such a shame,” I murmur, but wickedly feel glad that I have at least one advantage over his ex. Jae likes to act on impulse and I am here to go along with him. That should count for something. “So marketing kept you very busy,” I probe, looking for more insight into Jae’s other work.

  “Yeah,” Jae looks away.

  But I won’t give up so easily. “I really can’t imagine you working with the people who came to the grand opening. You seem completely different from them. They’re so . . .” I trail off, wondering how to be diplomatic in my description.

  “Vain? Stuck on themselves?” Jae puts in.

  “Well, that too,” I chuckle. “It must be hard, marketing for fashion and operating Go 4 It. They seem diametrically opposed to one another. I mean, I assume you’re not marketing for any famous clothing designers of quad bike couture.”

  Jae smiles. “No, not in the least.” I wait, but he doesn’t volunteer any more information. “Enough about me. What’s your story?” Jae asks.

  I’m surprised at how quickly Jae turned the conversation away from himself. I know he’s referring to my divorce. From our frequent phone calls and emails, he already knows about my upbringing and white/Samoan worlds.

  “Well, five years ago, when Fi was two weeks old, my ex informed me that he had been having an affair with my sister and that he was divorcing me. We had all been close friends in college, but,” I shrug, “he excused his actions by claiming that I had changed. Oh, and I had post-partum depression at the time, which made everything even worse.”

  Jae shakes his head. “I’m sorry to hear it. I can’t imagine your pain.”

  I smile. “But the best part is, I get to see my sister every week when she picks up the kids and Mika when he drops them off. AND I’ve been invited to their engagement party and wedding. Can you believe it?”

  “No, really?” Jae asks.

  “Yes,” I nod and chuckle. “Everyone tells me to show up with a date just to show Tiresa and Mika that they can’t spite me, but I’m not going to.”

  “Why not?” asks Jae.

  I cringe, not wanting to repeat Tiresa’s accusations. “It’s not worth the emotional effort. Though it would be a laugh to show up a few stone lighter and flaunt my curves in front of them.”

  Jae shakes his head again. “You don’t need to lose a few stone to prove your worth. You can do it now.” I laugh. “No, seriously,” Jae insists, “you bungee jumped off a forty-three metre bridge. How does that compare to facing people who wronged you? I say go to the engagement party.”

  “You’re right,” I nod. “Will you go with me?”

  “Are you asking me out?” Jae says with mock seriousness.

  “Yes,” I reply.

  Jae grins. “I’d be honoured to be your date.”

  “Great. It’s a date.” Did I just ask Jae on a date? I did!

  Jae picks up the container with brownies. “To celebrate the occasion, let us feast on dessert.”

  “Oh, no, I really can’t,” I hold up a hand. “I’m sorry. They look delicious, but I’m full.”

  Jae takes one out. “Are you sure? Okay, I’ll seal the deal alone.” He takes a big bite out of the brownie, chews for three seconds, and then stops. The smile fades from his face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. For a moment, I think he’s choking and envision me doing the Heimlich maneuver on him.

  Instead, he chews more slowly and swallows with a loud gulp. “Fat-free means flavour-free,” he says hoarsely, refilling his coffee cup and washing down the rest of the brownie. “Tastes like cardboard.”

  For the rest of lunch, I try to find out more about Jae’s other business and past, but he deflects my questions politely. It makes me suspicious: why is he being so secretive? Is there something horrible to hide? My theories range from him being a serial killer to even worse: maybe he’s a player and I’m just a fling for him to fling away when the next target comes along.

  All too soon lunch is over and Jae has to get back to work. He walks me to my car. “Thanks again, Bella,” he says.

  “No, thank you. I had a lot of fun,” I reply.

  Jae stands there a moment just looking at me. “I’ll call you soon.”

  “Great,” I say.

  And then he leans down and kisses me on the lips. It lasts forever as it is happening and then suddenly, it’s over. Just a lingering peck, but a very romantic peck. I get a tingly feeling all over, just like when Mika first kissed me, my first kiss, all those years ago in college.

  “Bye,” he whispers.

  I wait until he is almost out of sight, get into my car, and shriek with glee.

  •

  I’m not the only one who’s on cloud nine. I stop by Pa’s to check on him before picking up the kids at school. His eyes are shining and he can hardly sit still.

  “What’s going on? I haven’t seen you this excited since the Wizards won the Plunket Shield.”

  Dad clasps my hand. “You’ll never guess who came to visit.”

  I sit down on the sofa. “J.R.R. Tolkien?” Tolkien was Pa’s favorite author.

  “He’s dead.”

  I shrug. “The Prime Minister?”

  “Better.” He pauses. “It was your sister. Tiresa stopped by!”

  The smile freezes on my face. “You’re serious? I’m shocked. Why?” I blurt out and instantly regret it. Of course I don’t mean to hurt Pa’s feelings, knowing how he’s waited for years for Tiresa to come back into his life, but this sudden appearance is out of character for her.

  Dad squeezes my hand. “I know you don’t get along, but hear me out. Tiresa heard about my hospitalisation and came by to tell me that she’s going to pay all my medical bills.”

  My jaw drops.

  “Bella, your sister has been grieving all these years. Her anger at being taken from the only father she ever knew was misdirected. She only stayed away out of hurt, not because she ever meant to hurt you or me.”

  “Right,” I nod in disbelief.

  Dad stiffly gets out of his chair and paces the room. “Bella, my prayers are answered. I have my other daughter back.” He places a hand over his heart. “I don’t care about the bills, but it is a relief to know I won’t have to take a second mortgage out on the house. I resisted at first, knowing she has a wedding to pay for, but Tiresa won’t take no for an answer.”

  Dad prattles on about Tiresa’s engagement party and wedding, but I don’t hear him. I simply cannot understand it. One day she threatens to take away my children; the next, she pays Pa’s bills. What is she doing? There has to be an ulterior motive behind her sudden generosity.

  “Of course, it will be awkward seeing Mama Rose and the aiga again,” Dad says, “but I think life has come full circle. It is time for reconciliation and what better occasion for it than a wedding?”

  But it’s Tiresa and Mika wedding, I scream inside my head. Mika cheated on me with my own sister. Doesn’t that strike anyone as cruel? Why is everyone celebrating Tiresa as some great person when she’s not?

  “And Bella, I would be honoured to escort you to the engagement party,” Dad beams.

  “Uh, I’d love to go to the party with you, Dad, but I already have a date,” I hear myself answer. But do I still want to go? She is doing this to hurt me somehow. That’s all she ever does. Is it to make me feel guilty for not paying Pa’s bills? Why did Mama Rose have to tell her about my surgery?

  “That’s wonderful news. Is it Jae?”

  “Yeah.”

  Dad sits next to me on the sofa. “Bella, I know this isn’t easy for you.” He slips his arm around my shoulder. “This is mine and Tiresa’s time for reconciliation. Your time to reconcile with her will come when the time is right.”

  I lay my head on his shoulder. “I doubt it will ever be right. She did this to me, so she can fix it.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Regret is like underwear: we put it on everyday. It’s unseen yet a basis to everything else we wear.”

&nbs
p; FROM BELLA’S BLOG

  http://www.thelightersideoflarge.com/ch15

  My boobs! My boobs!” I shriek.

  “What about your boobs?” Sands asks from her comfortable seat nearby.”They don’t touch the floor anymore when I do push-ups!” I announce.

  Sands applauds while eyeing a guy working out three treadmills over. “Bravo, busty, bravo. How many push-ups is that, five?”

  I get up on my knees, breathless. “That’s five more than I could do a few weeks ago.” Sands is smiling at him now. “And after I dye my hair purple this afternoon, I’m getting a tattoo and eloping with a guy I met online.”

  “How ya doing? Keep up the good work,” Sands calls to the guy. “Huh? What’d you say? I thought you liked Jae?” she asks.

  I glare at her, hands on my hips. “Sands, can you take your mind off men for just one minute and focus?”

  “Sorry,” she mutters. “So who are you eloping with?”

  “No one” I puff, holding onto a weight bench to pull myself off the floor.

  “You just said you met someone online.”

  “Yes, I met him a few weeks ago and we’ve been chatting.”

  “What’s his name?” Sands hands me a towel.

  “His screen name is Romance, with the “man” capitalised; otherwise, I don’t know his name or what he looks like.”

  Sands shakes her head. “Like that sounds safe. Stick with Jae. At least you know his name and what he looks like in those adorable tight jeans.” I blush. “A-ha! So you still like him,” she accuses.

  “I never stopped liking him,” I defend. “It’s just that, oh, I don’t know,” I wrap the towel around the back of my neck, “why is he so mysterious about his other business and past? What is he hiding? And then he goes and kisses me, which indicates our relationship is moving forward, so that should mean he should open up more, right?”

  Sands stands up. “I’m not the best person to ask about relationships. Mine usually don’t last beyond the second date. Now come on, let’s weigh you in.”

  We trudge to Sands office. Outside the door is a scale. I step on it and shut my eyes while Sands adjusts the balance. She gasps.

  “What?” my eyes pop open. I look at the scale - and shriek. “Is that right? I lost five more kilos. That’s twenty kilos so far. Yes!” I jump off the scale and jump up and down in a wild victory dance.

  Sands gives me a hug. “Let’s celebrate this milestone. Friday night we’re hitting the town. It’s gonna be you, me and the male half of Nelson.”

  With our weekend plans arranged, I pick up the kids from school. Once we’re home, I take a photo of myself and upload it to my online dating profile. It’s almost too incredible to believe that I’ve lost so much weight, gone down two clothing sizes, and am seeing a drop-dead gorgeous guy. I walk down the hallway to examine myself in front of the mirror.

  No longer a torture device, the mirror shows a happy woman - still a heavy woman, but a happy woman with a smile and a sparkle in her eye. Is this really me? I wonder. Whoever it is, I like her better than the other woman who used to appear.

  Blip. The computer makes a noise, signaling a chat window has opened. I stroll back over to the computer and peer at the screen.

  RoMANce: Hello again.

  I sit down and type back:

  ShyNSweet: We have to stop meeting like this;^) How are you?

  RoMANce: Good. Just taking a breather while at work, reading your blog.

  ShyNSweet: Don’t let the boss see what you’re doing LOL

  RoMANce: Good thing I’m the boss. How you been?

  ShyNSweet: Wonderful. Lost 20 kg as of today. See the new pix?

  RoMANce: That’s great news. Congrats. You should celebrate.

  ShyNSweet: I am. Going out with a girlfriend Friday night gonna paint the town red – well, hot pink at least. LOL

  RoMANce: Why not go with a boyfriend?

  ShyNSweet: What boyfriend? LOL There is a guy but he’s busy.

  RoMANce: Too busy for a foxy lady like you?

  ShyNSweet: Thanks for the compliment – he’s starting a new business.

  RoMANce: Sounds like an excuse. Don’t mind me asking, but do you think he’s hiding something from you?

  I’m startled by the bluntness of the accusation and accuracy of the question.

  ShyNSweet: What a question!

  RoMANce: Hey, I’m a guy. I know a thing or two.

  ShyNSweet: He hasn’t been forthcoming about every single detail of his life; then again, we’re still getting to know each other. So, as a guy, what do you know? LOL

  RoMANce: If you’re suspicious or harbour doubts about him due to erratic behavior, then you’re onto something.

  ShyNSweet: I have more experience in being blindsided rather than the chance to grow suspicious. So far, suspicions are better.

  RoMANce: How’s that?

  ShyNSweet: My ex just up and told me one day that he was sleeping with my sister and didn’t love me and to get out of the house in 2 weeks. I hadn’t a clue that was coming.

  RoMANce: Sorry to hear that.

  ShyNSweet: Of course, I was in the throes of post-partum depression and had a two-week-old baby and an 18-month-old to care for, on top of helping my ex with his work, so no wonder why I didn’t notice much else. What a way to say thanks for years of support, you know?

  RoMANce: I don’t know what to say. You must be a strong woman to deal with that.

  ShyNSweet: What choice did I have? Even in this day and age, women are still expected to rely on men in some capacity for support, but when the men drop the ball, we can’t just sit around waiting for the next man. We have to survive.

  RoMANce: So you are a survivor.

  ShyNSweet: Damn straight I am.

  RoMANce: Does your ex know how you feel - about him leaving?

  ShyNSweet: He didn’t care to hear what I had to say. He made his decision and no amount of pleading did any good. He didn’t even want to try counselling. But now that I look back on it, it wouldn’t have done any good. We weren’t the same people who married one another.

  RoMANce: So you were too dissimilar? You couldn’t learn to live with one another?

  ShyNSweet: He wasn’t willing, obviously.

  A scream pierces the house. “Muuummmmmyyyy!” Fi’s cry echoes through the house. “Snowball! It’s Snowball!”

  The fear and hysteria in Fi’s voice ejects me from my chair. I race down the hall to her room, where she’s kneeling next to the rabbit cage. I can see from the door that Snowball the rabbit isn’t moving.

  “Mummy!” Fi screams. “Snowball’s dead!”

  I kneel down and peer at the rabbit. Its nose isn’t snuffling, its ribcage not expanding and contracting with breath.

  Abe comes running. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Oh, baby,” I hug Fi. “Snowball is gone.”

  Fi wails again. “Why?”

  I rock her. “I don’t know, sweetie. Animals die, just like people. Maybe he was sick.”

  “Let’s take him to the doctor,” Fi blubbers.

  “It’s too late; we can’t,” I say.

  “But why was he sick?”

  “I don’t know that he was sick, Fi,” I explain. “He might have been, or he might have died of old age or something else.”

  Abe pokes at Snowball through the cage. “Maybe a burglar killed him.”

  “Don’t touch it,” I snap.

  “Was it a burglar?” Fi looks up at me with a tear-stained face.

  “There was no burglar,” I say. Great, that’s just what Fi needs - nightmares about a rabbit-killing burglar.

  “Maybe he had cancer like Dad or broke his neck,” Abe suggests.

  Fi begins to wail again. “I don’t want him to have cancer!”

  “Fi, Snowball didn’t have cancer,” I hug her again. Or maybe he did. Stupid rabbit- why’d he have to go and die?

  “Can I bury him?” Abe asks, fingers twitching to touch the dead rabbit again.


  “Yes, you may,” I reply.

  “All right!” Abe jumps up.

  “But I’ll take him out of the cage. Go find a plastic sack. I don’t want you two touching him.”

  Fi cries inconsolably. “I don’t want him to go. I don’t want him to die.”

  “Baby, we can get another rabbit.”

  “I don’t want another rabbit!” Fi howls.

  Abe stands with hands on his hips, observing his sister. “Dad always gives her ice cream when she won’t stop crying.”

  “I want Daddy!” Fi cries. “Daddy!”

  I continue rocking her. “Shhh. Hush now, Fi, it’ll be all right.”

  “I WANT DADDY!”

  Fi refuses to be consoled. Abe wanders out and returns with a plastic sack, waiting for me to get Snowball, but Fi is so upset that I can’t detach her from my arms. Abe sits on the bed, chin in hand, looking bored and sighing every few minutes at the drama. “I want Daddy!” Fi cries over and over.

  “Abe,” I say, “would you please go call your dad? Fi really needs to talk to him right now.”

  “Sure,” Abe jumps off the bed to fetch the phone. He walks back into the room after a minute, chatting on my cell phone. “She won’t stop crying,” he explains. “What? I can’t hear you. Fi, shut up! I’m trying to talk to Dad. Huh?” Abe wrinkles his face, trying to hear what his father says on the other end of the line.