Wahoo

by B. P. Kasik

  She walked over to the panoramic window, and looked down two stories to see the pool was already jam-packed with yellow rafts and tubes. The movie had already started. The police chief was on the enormous screen, filling out a report. Very suspenseful.

  Cara saw a group of laughing people come in, pass by the main gate, and go down the hidden stairway.

  She realized she’d failed to find her group that day. Sure, she’d chatted with that cool Bill guy. And her RA. But she’d spent most of the day wandering around the college grounds and drooling over cool things at the libraries. Her roommate was antisocial and only would have liked her if she got stoned, too. No dice there.

  And even if she did have someone to come to this party with, she didn’t want to show off her swimsuit body. Her boyfriend worked at a pool, and she tried not to think about how many women in swimsuits Lawrence saw every day. Cara had refused every invitation he’d made to go swimming with him. Appealing as it sounded to swim for free, Cara didn’t want him sizing her up against every other bikini bimbo he saw on the job. She was sure she looked okay, but she didn’t work out nearly enough to compare. She kept that to herself, didn’t want to trouble Lawrence with her weight-related neuroticisms.

  She wondered if maybe she should just go back to the library. She noticed on their hours they were open late. She could grab her Faulkner book back at the dorm and read it in peace and quiet surrounded by other books.

  Hey, that sounds pretty good…

  She turned to leave and ran smack into Bill.

  “Oh, hi, Cara!”

  “Oh, hi, Bill!”

  They had a knowing moment where they realized they’d both seen The Room and just dropped throwaway references to it.

  “Anyway,” Bill said. “Had enough fun here for one night?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Ironically and unironically.”

  “You have fun today?”

  “Yeah, your tour-interrupting inquiry on UVA’s grave-robbing history was a highlight.”

  “I aim to please. Didn’t see you again after that.”

  “Oh, I wandered off on my own.” She didn’t mention the library, decided she’d had enough of being mocked about that for one evening. “You got your swimsuit on? Ready to party with the shark movie?”

  “Uh, no…just putting in an appearance. I’m actually leaving soon…”

  “Off to visit the frats?”

  “No, I’m not…that’s not…it’s not who I am. I’m just investigating. Not partying.”

  Cara shrugged. “Your call. I’m heading out myself. Have fun.”

  “Okay,” Bill said sheepishly.

  “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  And they went their own ways.

  * * * *

  Cara was getting faint as she returned to her dorm. Just wasn’t feeling up to going anywhere, not even the library.

  She hadn’t eaten much for dinner, just a banana and a couple packets of crackers (250 calories). She didn’t like to eat much later in the day because all those calories just turned to fat as your body metabolized the unused energy overnight. She read that in Europe they had large lunches, then a light meal for dinner. Made much more sense than the gluttonous American tradition of a quick lunch and an expansive dinner. All those extra calories had nowhere else to go but to fat cells at the end of the day.

  She figured she’d have the place to herself, so she could just recharge after so much activity. Maybe enjoy some Faulkner, then drift off to dreams of barn burnings and the postbellum South.

  But Bri was there.

  “Hey, Cara.”

  “Hey, Bri.”

  The room was a mess. Bri’s clothes were draped all over the bed and dresser like melting wax. Bags of junk food all over the room.

  Cara was more impressed than mad. “How do you make so much mess so quick?”

  Bri shrugged, then spoke very slowly. “I got distracted. It’s possible I couldn’t find a certain something in my bag, then scattered all my stuff everywhere while searching for it. It’s also possible that after I found what I was looking for, I got hungry and maybe didn’t clean up after myself so much.”

  Cara nodded. “You got high. You got the munchies.”

  Bri squinted, thought about that for a bit. “I will neither confirm nor deny the statement you just stated. We are under constant surveillance. I refuse to incriminate myself.”

  Cara leaned forward, took a whiff. “I think your smell might be sufficient probable cause. If I were a cop, I’d search your bags.”

  Bri smiled. “And I would tell you to go right ahead. If there were ever anything in my bag, it’s gone now.”

  Cara shook her head. “So now you’re just sitting here alone in a room?”

  “No. You’re here.”

  “Ah, good point.”

  Cara walked in, then opened her bag. “You mind if I read for a bit?”

  “Go right ahead, roomie. I’m chillaxed over here.”

  “Nobody says ‘chillaxed’ anymore.”

  “Oh. My mistake.”

  Cara picked up the half-full bags of Cheetos and Sour Cream & Onion Ruffles from her bed, placed them on the lamp table, then lay down and opened Requiem for a Nun.

  Bri stared at her for a while. “Is that book connected to Requiem for a Dream?”

  “No, those are separate literary universes.”

  “Oh. Gotcha.” Bri let Cara read a few more words. Then said, “Isn’t it weird to think how every book could be connected, though? Like everything that happened in both those books could be the same world? Who’s to say our world is real and their world is fiction?”

  Cara sighed. “Well, for starters—there’s this label here on the side of the book that says Fiction.”

  Bri made a circle with her left pointer finger. “Who’s to say all of this isn’t just a simulation? Like a really boring version of the Matrix? Or that Black Mirror episode? Or what about—”

  Cara rolled her eyes. She wasn’t interested in a generic late-night philosophical bull session. She figured she’d have more than enough of those in the four years she’d spend as a student here. “Yeah, that’s deep. Never thought about that. But if this is just a simulation or a dream, I’d still like to spend the next few minutes of this illusion with this book. You cool if I read?”

  “Oh, sure, sure. Reading is the best. Very educational. I’ll stop bothering you.” Bri let Cara read another few words. Then said, “Isn’t it weird how there are so many books out there. Like, how many books can we read before we die? What do our books say about us?”

  Cara realized she wasn’t going to be able to enjoy any Faulkner that evening, so she closed her book and put it back in her bag. She wiped her eyes. Her energy level was dropping fast. “There’s an online calculator that estimates how many books you’ll read before you die.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I saw it a few weeks ago. It takes several factors from your life into account and gives you a rough count of what you can expect to read before death.”

  “Whoa. That’s a scary thought. But what if we die abruptly, in an accident or something?”

  “Then I guess that would affect the total. Can’t account for every variable in a chaotic world.”

  Bri whistled. “You use really fancy words.”

  “Thanks. I try.”

  “Evening, ladies,” said Christie from their open doorway.

  “I’m not high!” shouted Bri.

  Christie smiled. “Of course you’re not. How about you, Cara—are you not high?”

  “Yes. I mean no, I’m not high.”

  “Double negative. No way to tell what’s true anymore.” Christie stretched and yawned. “Why aren’t you two out partying?”

  Cara shrugged. “I stopped by the pool party thing. Looked fun, just not my thing. I’m kind of tired.”

  Bri smiled. “I got my own party here!”

  “Yea
h, you do. Well, I’m a little burned out myself. Will see you ladies in the morning.”

  “Good night,” said Cara.

  Then—long after Christie was gone—Bri said, “Good night.”

  Cara wanted to read some more, but knew as soon as she tried, Bri would start talking. Paradoxically, while she was just sitting there, Bri wasn’t talking. So she tried talking. “Where are you from, anyway?”

  Bri pointed to the ground. “Straight from The Hook. The Velvet Rut.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m from Charlottesville.”

  “Oh, neat. I met another local today. Bill, you know him?”

  Bri thought about it. “Tall guy? One who interrupted the tour earlier today?”

  “Yes, him.”

  “We had a few classes together. Never really talked. Charlottesville’s not a huge town. But not everyone knows everyone. Also he doesn’t smoke.” Bri paused. “Not saying I do, but it’s just…a true statement.”

  “I’m sure you’re quite straight-edge. What can you tell me about UVA? What’s it like growing up here?”

  Bri shrugged. “Like anywhere. It’s a company town. My mom works in hospital…administration, I guess you’d call it?”

  “And your dad?”

  “Haven’t seen him in a long time. Can we talk about something else? This is a buzzkill.”

  “Sure. What about…”

  Bri reached down and grabbed two bags of chips and started devouring them. Cara watched Bri chew with her mouth open. She was simultaneously disgusted and jealous. How many calories was that? How much was a serving size? How could Bri eat those things without thinking about their nutritional value, especially at this time of night?

  Bri looked at her. “You want some?”

  “No, goodness no.”

  Cara absolutely wanted them. She thought back on her dinner, lunch, and breakfast. She tallied up the calorie count. She realized she’d overestimated the amount of calories in the banana smoothie she’d made herself for breakfast. That had probably only been 300 calories, not 400. So she had a 100-calorie cushion!

  She thought about how great it would feel to go to sleep knowing she’d stayed under 1500 calories, but the smell of those potato chips was intoxicating.

  She reached for one of the bags. Cheddar Cheese Lay’s. She looked at the nutrition facts. A serving was twelve chips. There were 150 calories in a serving. So that meant…she could have eight chips.

  Bri smiled at her. “Help yourself!”

  Cara shook her head. “No, no, I was just looking. You know, reading the ad copy. Sometimes it’s funny.”

  “Right. Funny.” Bri shook her head, devoured another handful of sour cream-and-onion-flavored crumbs.

  Cara looked at the open bag of chips. The scent was pure enticement. She hadn’t eaten junk food in weeks. She thought about Lawrence. She thought about the fold on her stomach that never seemed to go away no matter how many sit-ups she did. She did 200 sit-ups every night for eight straight months one time. Her stomach still looked the same. Her mother told her it wasn’t flab on there, it was just skin. That everyone—even supermodels—had skin there that folded up and looked like flab when they leaned forward. Cara hadn’t believed it. She kept attacking her abs with sit-ups. But after it remained in the same shape, she finally gave up on her stomach. Whenever she saw a perfectly flat stomach on a woman in a movie or show or magazine cover, it drove her up the wall. She ate in moderation. She worked out vigorously. She gave up non-diet sodas and energy drinks years ago.

  For what?

  All of it. For what?

  What was she trying to prove? She felt like she was cramming for some test that was never gonna come. Like she was desperately working to impress people who didn’t care or notice. If she lost five more pounds, would Lawrence finally publicly acknowledge their relationship? How hot did she have to be to feel right? Would she go overboard at some point and become so scrawny she was unattractive?

  She jammed a hand into the bag, catapulted two chips into her mouth. She savored every molecule of their delicious artificial flavoring. She rolled it around in her mouth, letting every taste bud of her tongue roll along it.

  This was it. This was what she’d wanted. She felt like her brain was getting a chemical bath of endorphins. She’d heard it said that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

  NOPE.

  She reached in, grabbed two more chips, and munched on them, as well.

  They were even better than the first two. She chewed and chewed and chewed, eyes closed in ecstasy. She remembered her mom telling her that Nancy Reagan—the lady who was married to the President when her mom was a kid—always chewed her food fifty times before swallowing. That always sounded crazy to Cara. Until that moment with the chips. She didn’t ever want to swallow them. She wanted to keep chewing them forever.

  Bri laughed. “Glad you’ve having fun over there!”

  Cara smiled. “These things are delicious!”

  “Sure are. Sure are.”

  Cara impulsively grabbed four more chips and started chewing them, as well.

  Oh no, I’m maxed out now.

  She savored every second of her chip-chewing. It started taking on a beautiful sadness, as all beautiful things do that are destined for an end.

  Cara swallowed the chips, sighing with joy.

  She put the chips down on the ground and smiled. It had been a good moment in time. Something delicious to hang on to.

  Cara took a deep breath.

  And noticed the smell of the Doritos.

  She hadn’t had Doritos since junior high.

  Bri was babbling something about cosmic rays and wondering how starlight and moonlight affected the human body since they sent rays down the same as the sun. Cara didn’t care. She just started looking at every open bag of chips on the ground as an opportunity rather than a temptation.

  But she was at equilibrium. If she ate any more, she’d need to equalize it by working out at the gym. And these were the worst kind of empty calories. She’d had a fun day; she’d enjoyed her visit so far. There was no reason to ruin it.

  This had happened once before, the night before she took the SATs. She’d lost control that night. She didn’t want to lose control again. She couldn’t.

  But who would see her? Who would care? It was just one night. What did it matter?

  Something in her mind clicked—or maybe deactivated—and she grabbed the bag of Doritos from the ground and pulled a handful out and stuffed them in her mouth. Crumbs fell on her shirt, staining them as they tumbled down. Cara had no idea how many chips she’d just eaten, nor how many calories they contained. She chewed a few times and swallowed. Then grabbed another handful.

  Bri stopped talking and started laughing at the sight in front of her. Cara knew she was pigging out. She tried to stop, but she felt alive in a way she hadn’t in years. Her mind was racing. Her body felt stimulated and complete instead of faint and weak like it did almost all the time. She grabbed a third handful of Doritos and devoured it. She shuddered to think at the amount of MSG flowing through her. She’d heard that stuff could give you the shakes. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything she’d heard. She didn’t care about calories or restraints or consequences.

  The Doritos bag was down to just crumbs so she lifted it up and poured them down her throat, the crunching sound in her head drowning out all her thoughts and doubts and fears.

  She threw the bag to the side.

  “You sure you’re not buzzing?” asked Bri with a smile.

  “No, just high on life,” Cara said, and grabbed the Cheetos.

  She repeated the operation and ate handful after handful. The worst things she could put in her body were filling it up. It felt amazing. She wasn’t on the edge of hunger like she always was, even at meals. She thought about the times in the past where she’d had delicious items at family dinners like cheesecake or German chocolate
cake and how she’d managed to deal with them. She’d take a few bites, savoring their flavor, and then discreetly brought her napkin to her mouth and spat the chewed-up food in there. She repeated this until she’d savored the taste of every bite of the food, with none of the caloric consequences.

  That seemed normal at the time, but she couldn’t imagine doing that ever again. Parting with these Cheetos or Doritos? Just having the mouth flavor and letting it go? No. She loved the way she felt herself filling up. She felt her stomach acids finally stop tickling and burning her insides. She felt her stomach…inflating. She put a hand to her belly, leaning forward and feeling a double roll instead of the usual ever-present fold.

  This is all gonna become fat. What have I done?

  She swallowed her last mouthful of Cheetos and dropped the nearly empty bag. She looked down at the other potato chips and Cool Ranch Doritos and wanted to eat every last one of them. But…reality was starting to set in. Her stomach felt like it was twisting around. Overworked. She’d filled herself up dangerously. She wondered if she’d stretched her stomach lining.

  Can your stomach burst from overeating?

  Cara looked up at Bri, who appeared demonic in that moment. A malicious devil on her shoulder encouraging her to lose control. Cara had given in. Today Cara had screwed over Tomorrow Cara.

  She gritted her teeth, took some deep breaths, and stood up. “I’ll…be right back.”

  “Yeah, seeya!” Bri said and laughed.

  Cara ran out of the room and out of the suite. She looked out and saw the football stadium, all lit up like a game was about to be played. She saw a few fellow students out there, trespassing on the field. They were running around in circles, arms raised in triumph.

  Cara wished she could just let herself go like that.

  Her abdomen stung her. She gripped the railing near the stairs and nearly fell over. She ran around the side of the building and up the hill into the woods behind the dorms. She made it halfway up the mini-mountain and, disoriented, put her hand against a tree. She felt the leaves crumbling under her feet. She listened for other sounds. No other footsteps. No one in sight. No cars driving down the nearby road. The closest activity was the AFC party a few blocks away. Every window on the rear side of the dorm was either dark or curtained. No one was watching.