by Betty Balaba
“Good morning!” I croaked, keeping up my pace so not as to welcome an actual conversation of course.
“Morning!” he called back, surprised, as if he has just woken up to the fact that he was in public. I had one more length to do and then I would have done 4k. I passed them again, this time with a slowness creeping in.
The little dog had a really luxurious brown coat. It was what I called a yapper, which barked at everything. It took one look at me and ran after me. Everyone was an imposter to this dog, even in a park! The man called it. “Florence, Floooo! Come back here NOW.”
Florence completely ignored him. “She is very friendly,” he shouted. I hoped he was being knowingly ironic. People have such a blind spot with their pets! I couldn’t help grinning to myself. It was as friendly as a Rottweiler who viewed me as filet-mignon. I knew how to deal with it, though. I abruptly stopped and took a step towards it. Florence did a complete 180 and ran in the opposite direction faster than Usain Bolt on a photo finish. On my last lap, I ran past the man again. His dog had thankfully discovered something interesting in the bushes.
“Have you finished?” he said.
“Nearly.”
“What? Just five minutes?” he smiled, sarcastically. I almost raised an eyebrow but stopped myself.
“More like half an hour, actually!” I shot back.
“You should do an hour!”
I did laugh, then, at the irony of it all. He was telling me this as he smoked and traipsed around like he had all the time in the world.
The next day, I decided to go to a 30-30-30 class. I hadn’t felt I was fit enough to go to one before, but I was getting my confidence back with my new routine. We started with a warm-up. I had been to camp, I knew the score! But honestly someone must have been having a laugh calling this a warm up! I immediately attracted the attention of the teacher. I was already sweating and the warm up was hardly over.
“Would you like some water?” she said.
“I think I am okay, thanks,” I panted.
I did feel okay, even if I didn’t look it. There was a mirror in front of me that went the whole length of the wall. For goodness sake, there was no escape! I could see myself from every angle. I couldn’t help noticing a lady next to me, who had the body of a super model. She was fit: I couldn’t see one bead of sweat. Next I was pulling on one of the T-Rex straps but had it at the wrong angle. Let’s just say I was lucky not to garrotte myself. The teacher jogged straight over.
“Honey, please keep taking water. You okay? You sure?” Just keep nodding, I said to myself as I took another sip of water. I made it to the end of the class. Granted, I had lost some weight recently. But I was still the biggest person in the class and definitely not the most flexible one. The only way I was going to lengthen my muscles any more was for me to be strapped to some kind of rack!
On the way back to my mother’s house, I stopped to pick up a few things at my flat and popped into the newsagent to pick up a paper. As I got to the counter I dropped my water bottle. I was leaning over to pick it up when my elbow dislodged two chocolate bars, which fell onto the counter. The lady gathered them up with my paper. I looked at her, horrified.
“I cannot have those! I’m supposed to be on a diet!” she smiled.
“I like that you say ‘I am supposed.’” She giggled but she put the chocolates back. What was it with me and this particular newsagent and chocolate? I was walking out when the owner was walking in. He did a double take. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Have you been away?”
“No,” I said with a shake of the head. “I’m staying at my mother’s.” I don’t know why I felt I had to explain myself. He took a closer look at me.
“You look out of breath?” What! I knew I had pulled a face but I hoped I didn’t look that unfit.
“I’ve been running,” I said curtly, and he nodded slowly.
“I can see you haven’t done that in a while…” My eyes widened.
“You didn’t just say that!” I retorted. He chuckled and for the first time, I could see he was embarrassed. He wasn’t to be deterred though.
“It’s good that you are trying to get your figure back.” He grinned. “Is it for a man?” I looked him dead in the eye.
“You know that must be it,” I said, with snark. “Only a man could make me want to get healthy and lose weight, of course.” He waved a finger at me and continued to grin. “You know the problem with you?”
“Enlighten me?”
“You can’t take a bit of banter.” I did laugh then. He looked at me surprised and then continued laughing, as we both did, even if I knew it was for vastly different reasons. I continued to walk towards my mother’s house. Before I got very far, a black Range Rover slowed down and beeped its horn.
“Hello stranger,” I heard. “You’ve been staying with your mother, haven’t you?”
I swung around.
“Andy!”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s getting better, thanks.”
“Been for a run?” I nodded.
“This weight doesn’t seem to want to shift on its own,” he chuckled.
“It’s just weight. You’ll get it off. As long as you are healthy, that’s all that matters.”
“What sense!” said a voice in my head. Out loud, I said: “That’s true.”
“Can I give you a lift anywhere?”
“No thanks, I’ll walk back and get even more exercise!”
“Okay, nice to see you Becs.”
He saluted me as I said bye, and the car pulled away.
*
I felt that my mother was improving a little every day. If I’m honest, it wasn’t just her force of will but my cajoling her to do her physio exercises. Meanwhile, knowing I couldn’t go back to work yet hadn’t stopped me from applying to one marketing job that seemed to tick all the right boxes. I don’t know why I did it. Because I wasn’t sure I even wanted to go back into marketing. After three months at home, I guess I wanted to see if I still had it.
I received the email telling me that I was invited to an interview. Feeling pleased, I remember how I felt when I received the email telling me I’d got my previous job. I was happy at this interview request – but was also wondering what on earth I would do if they gave me the job. The place sounded terribly trendy in comparison to my old corporate office.
Still, I went to the interview. I wore a black and white checked A-line dress with a black fitted jacket that I had bought for the purpose – even if I didn’t know if I would take the job if offered! It did not quite fit me like a glove as I was now between two sizes. But I looked more professional than I had done in a while. Sitting in the reception waiting to be called, I could see that everyone was of a type. I would like to say identikit, as they all had the same vibe.
I was interviewed by two reed-thin women dressed in clearly the latest collections, who talked a bit over each other. They said they were impressed with my experience. I knew I interviewed well, having conducted many interviews myself – but something felt out of sync. I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly.
It was a week later that I received the news that I had not been successful on this occasion. Apparently, there was a cigarette paper separating me from the candidate who got the job. They were a better fit, the email said. I knew I was not the right fit because I had ‘corporate’ written through me like a stick of rock. That didn’t stop me thinking that the real reason was because I was fatter than anyone I had seen in the office that day. Not the ‘right fit’ was unintentionally accurate. I put away my destructive thoughts and decided to only apply for jobs that I really wanted – if going back into corporate world was even what I wanted. One thing was certain: I wasn’t just going to make do. Life was far too short for that.
Sitting in a café, I was nursing a simple coffee – without an extra 1000 calories of cream and caramel – when I saw two former colleagues, Bella and Jemma enter. I used to work with them years ago. Now I wanted
to hide away, but the café was too small for that. Bella used to be friends with Jenny. I was in my leggings and long t-shirt and my hair had grown since they had last seen me. I thought – and hoped – that they probably would not recognise me. Well, that was wishful thinking. While Jemma ordered at the counter, Bella spotted me, and made a big production of the whole café knowing she had.
“Oh my goodness, Becca, how are you?” she approached me in a swathe of silk scarves and expensive perfume, finishing with an air-kiss.
“Hi,” I said, standing up. She looked me up and down none too subtly.
“I almost didn’t recognise you,” she said, almost without thinking. I ignored that jibe, if it was one?
“How are you?” I said. It was better than saying nothing.
“Good.” She sat down at her own invitation. “I never remember seeing you in leggings before. They would not suit me, of course. My legs are too small so I would look odd in them. Like twigs!” I had to hide my grin from forming. “Where have you been hiding?” she continued. “I heard you are not working?” My, doesn’t news travel fast! “What are you doing now?” she pressed on. “Have you retired?”
I narrowed my gaze. Who did she think she was? She was older than me but an arrogant woman with nothing to be arrogant about. I smiled sweetly.
“Oh not yet, I wish. I have been spending all my time looking after my mother,” I added pointedly.
“Oh, sorry to hear that. Don’t mind me, it is just banter!” That word again. I returned her gaze.
“Of course it is.” Making my excuses, I left. Not even my coffee could keep me in the room. Once home, I received an email informing me that my selection of photos I had proposed to display at the exhibition had been accepted. The exhibition was four weeks away. That meant it was time for me to send out my invitations. I invited all my friends and work colleagues. It must have come out of the blue after my long silence. I was excited but nervous, what would they make of my photography?
I had not seen James Duncan since the embarrassing incident where I had almost been run over in front of him. I wanted to invite him, and justified the idea by telling myself that it would be good to invite the staff who had been looking after my mother, wouldn’t it? The private view would be local to the hospital, so it would not be far for them to come. I paid extra attention when addressing an invitation to a certain surgeon.
Chapter 20
New Beginnings
After a few more weeks following the dietary requirements of an Instagram model, I noticed that the weight continued to come off. However, I did not go on the scale until a week before my photography exhibition as I didn’t obsess about numbers. I stepped on to my original scale, which has proved itself not to be broken and could be trusted again. One tentative step first and then the other. I was a euphoric ten stone dead. If I wanted to weigh what I did before my mother went to hospital, I would need to lose another half a stone, but I was happy where I was. I could maintain this weight without too much strain. Now the weight was reduced, I had more energy and felt healthier and better in myself.
Trying on the blue lace dress I had bought in the knowledge of it not fitting at the time, I smiled at myself in the mirror with shining eyes. It now fit like it was made for me; not a lump or bump out of place. I pulled out my navy suede heels from my wardrobe. I looked good, if I say so myself. I was not necessarily going to stop traffic, but I did not have a face that was going to scare small children either. I now looked the way I saw myself. I felt it had been a long way back, but I had learnt a lot about myself, namely that I would be okay.
*
Standing in the large room and seeing it slowly fill with people, I could not hide the silly grin that had been plastered on my face all day. Champagne in hand, I stared at one of my pictures, the first of a series of three series of sunsets. It was amazing to see it this large, immaculately printed with a non-gloss finish, box framed in a minimalistic white. I still could not quite believe that I was part of this exhibition.
The room was big and, what I would call, stark. White walls and a light grey floor that wrapped around in an L shape. The pictures stood out against the white in the room, providing punches of colour. People dressed in complete black handed out warm canapés and chilled wine.
Looking over my six pictures one at a time, I could not believe the price the prints were set at. Gordon, the owner of the space, said that he had made ten prints of each of my photographs. He had picked the three photos of sunsets, two of the trunks of an ancient tree, two of early morning mist covering a field and neighbouring trees and one of a magpie in flight. Eight pictures in total, with 10 prints of each… as my American friend Maria would say, “You do the math.”
I heard her before I saw her laughing loudly. Sophie. I turned around; she was heading towards me. “Becca Johnson, a woman of many talents!” Laughing with her, I curtsied. When we got near each other, we gave each other a hug. “Thank you for coming… I’ve missed you Soph!”
“Me too,” she said. I saw from the corner of my eye that Greg was coming towards us with two glasses in his hands.
“Hi, Becca! Congratulations. I am really impressed.”
“Thanks Greg.”
I did a double take. Greg was not wearing a scarf of any description. I looked at Sophie who stopped smiling, but rolled her eyes.
“So are you checking out of corporate life?” he said, ignoring us.
I grinned. “For now.”
I knew Greg was digging. “Your photos are great. Who would have thought you could point, shoot and capture something amazing.”
I smiled indulgently. “I know. Who would have thought it?”
“Not me,” he said, looking all serious.
I playfully hit him on the shoulder. Sophie rolled her eyes again.
There was more going on here. They were much too cosy with each other; side long glances at each other, gentle touches here and there. I wanted to get to the bottom of it. It was my turn to quiz Sophie.
Changing the subject, I went straight on. “So… how did you two get together? Did you stare at each other over the photocopier and then realise your hearts were skipping a beat?”
Sophie looked at me as if I was developing a second head.
Greg put his arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “No, actually it was over the toaster as Sophie scraped a piece of toast that was almost burnt to a crisp, but insisted it was still worth saving.”
I nodded smiling.
Sophie looked at me. “We didn’t even set the fire alarms off.”
I laughed, and then we all did. After the initial shock, and I had to admit it was a surprise, it began to click in my mind. Sophie and Greg made a great couple. He handed one of the glasses to Sophie and when he had done so, he slipped a hand around her waist. This was no time to be subtle. “So, how long has this, erm, development been going on?” I said, smiling at them. Sophie grinned. “Yes. Well I could not wait forever for you to find me a sexy surgeon.”
Greg looked mock-shocked. “Who wants a doctor when you can have an accountant on tap?”
I grinned. “Who indeed?”
As if on cue, James Duncan walked in. He was even better looking tonight than I remembered him. As my mother would say, he was well turned out. He looked confident in a quiet sort of way. He wore a crisp blue shirt, opened at the collar, with navy tailored trousers. I saw him straight away. Not that I was looking out for him. Nooo, that was not what I was doing. I took a breath to steady myself.
“You came.” I could not help smiling.
“Yes.” He smiled back. “Well it was either wash my hair, or come.”
He leant his head nearer to my ear. I thought I had stopped breathing. I noticed Greg and Sophie move a little away. “I thought I could bear to leave it for one more day.” I laughed. “Oh. I don’t know if I could bear the responsibility of you having to wait a whole 24 hours before you could wash it.” He laughed then, a deep throaty sound that seemed to fill the room. Standin
g straight, he said, “Your photographs are really striking.”
“Thank you.” I was ridiculously happy that he liked them.
“I bought the three prints of a series of sunsets.”
Wow, I had not expected him to buy any of them.
“Sunsets are my favourite things,” he said.
Now I had a silly grin on my face. We shared a favourite thing; that was a good start.
“Thanks for buying them.” I did not know what else to say. I hope I did not sound lame.
“They will fit perfectly in my living room.”
A waitress came around with some mini burgers. We both took one.
“I always find canapés fiddly to eat.” I said.
“As long as I do not get them spilling all the way down my front,” he joked, clearly making an effort to put me at ease, I thought. Another good sign.
I made a big show of examining his immaculate shirt. “You are quite okay. It is safe to take you out in public.”
He smiled. “I feel comforted knowing you are looking out for me.”
I grinned. Now this is what I called banter.
“Since I am not an embarrassment in public, would you like to go out to dinner?”
Okay, no more preamble.
“Yes.” Was I shouting? “Yes… I would like that.”
He laughed, looking pleased. “Great.”
We smiled at each other. He spoke first.
Did he mean this evening? I could not go tonight. I had to stay to the very end and I did not know when that would be.
It was as if he read my mind. “Not this evening. Sometime in the week good?”
I sighed. “Definitely, any evening you are not washing your hair,” I teased.
He laughed again. He took out his phone. “Can I have your number?”
I gave him my number and he called my phone so that I would have his number.
“Until then.”
I nodded. “Until then.”
I continued to smile. “Thank you for coming,” I said to him.