Big Guy (4 page)

The smile falls away and her face crumples. “Derek. I thought you understood.”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

She turns her back and pretends to read a magazine. I clean up in silence, feeling like a traitor.

At ten o'clock sharp, I knock on Aaliyah's door.

“So,” she says.

I look at my running shoes, which are new and too white. “Francine said you need to get ready for a lunch date.”

She nods. “I do, but I don't need much help. Just fixing my hair so it looks decent.”

You wouldn't know it from what you see on TV, but being gay actually does not automatically mean a guy is a good hairdresser.

I gesture to my own shaggy hair. “Hair's not really one of my skills, you know.”

Aaliyah laughs. “That's okay. I just need it brushed and tied back.” She makes a face. “I should just get it cut short. Then I could manage it myself.”

“That makes sense.”

“I don't know why I haven't done it yet.” She pauses, looks at me and makes a face. “Yes I do. It's like giving up, you know? Saying I'm not going to get better.”

“It would grow again,” I say. I'm still
really curious about what's wrong with her, but I know better than to ask.

Aaliyah laughs again, but this time it sounds like she's laughing at me. She wheels her chair over to a table and picks up a hair-brush. “Here.”

I take the brush and move behind her. “Just brush it?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” I ask casually, “what's your lunch date?”

“My ex-fiancé,” she says.

I'm dying to ask questions but I just keep brushing her hair.

“Did Francine tell you I asked for you?” she asks.

“Uh-huh.”

She is quiet for a minute. Then she speaks softly. “How old are you?”

I hesitate. “Seventeen. But Francine thinks I'm twenty.”

“Francine's a stupid cow,” she says.

“That's harsh.”

Aaliyah shrugs, pulling her hair away. “Ow.” She twists in the wheelchair to
look at me. “She is though. This place sucks.”

I don't say anything. It does suck.

“Anyway,” she says, “I asked for you because I felt bad about what I said last time. You know. About you just wanting to hear that I did something stupid, that it was my fault.”

I nod and force myself to meet her eyes. “You were right,” I admit. “Anyway, it's none of my business.”

“I had an aneurysm,” she says abruptly. “A blood vessel just blew in my head. No warning, no reason. Just—pow. One minute I was planning my wedding and working on a master's degree. Next thing I knew I was in hospital and couldn't even go to the bathroom without help.”

I wince. “Wow. That's pretty intense.”
Wow
?
Intense?
Could I say something more stupid?

She laughs. “Indeed.”

“But you're having lunch with your fiancé,” I blunder on. “I mean, that's good, right?”

She turns her head away, signalling me to finish brushing her hair. “He won't stop calling,” she says. “I finally agreed to meet him one last time. Maybe he needs to hear in person that it's over.”

“
You
ended it?” I blurt out.

“Yes. You assumed he did, right?”

“I don't know,” I say, trying to backpedal. “I just thought, maybe...”

“Sure. Maybe no one would want to be with someone like me, right?” Aaliyah spits the words out. “Guess what, Derek? No one would.”

“But you ended it?”

She nods and I stop brushing. “I don't want him sticking around out of pity,” she says. “I don't need that.”

I'm silent for a moment. “You're still the same person, though,” I say. “I mean, he wouldn't just stop caring about you.”

Aaliyah wheels herself forward and turns to face me. “I don't want to be ‘cared about',” she says.

I hold up a green hair tie that is twisted around the handle of her hairbrush. “You want this on?”

She shrugs. “I guess it seems kind of weird, me trying to look good when I'm just ending the relationship anyway.”

I think about Ethan for a moment.

“No,” I say. “Not so weird.”

Sometimes I really wish I could call Mom. Like I said, I don't blame her for leaving Dad, but I wish she could have found a way to leave him without leaving me too. Or I wish she'd left years ago and taken me with her. I guess she tried once, when I was a kid. We stayed in a women's shelter. It was okay. There were some other kids and the counselors were nice. We didn't stay long though. Mom said she wasn't like the other women there, that Dad wasn't as bad as all that.

The weird thing is, it used to seem like she wasn't very strong—like Dad was twice as big and twice as loud. But since Mom left, he's kind of shriveled up and faded away.

And I'm twice as big as him now. He doesn't scare me anymore. But I think I'll always hate him for driving Mom away.

When I get home from work, he's sitting on the couch as usual, with the TV on. It's some news show. A gay couple in Vancouver has just won some court case.

“Look at this crap,” Dad says, gesturing with the remote control. “Gays getting married, wanting this and that. God created Adam and Eve, not—”

“Adam and Steve,” I say wearily. “I know, Dad.”

He looks at me suspiciously. “I'm not a bigot, if that's what you're thinking,” he says. “People can do what they want in private. I just don't see why they have to drag everyone else into their business.”

If there is one thing I know for sure, it is that trying to reason with my father is a complete and utter waste of time. I try
anyway. “Straight people don't have to keep their lives and marriages and relationships private.”

He stares at me like I'm the idiot. “Sounds like the kind of bleeding-heart crap your mother always says.”

“Mom's gone,” I say. “Remember?” Then I walk past him to my room.

Ethan's not online but there's an e-mail from him in my inbox:

hey derek. i didn't hear from you
yesterday, hope everything is okay.
my sister is here for a visit and
now everyone is all obsessed with
this wedding—all they talk about is
flowers and cakes and bridesmaids'
dresses. it's kind of funny. they think
i'm excited about it too—and i am,
only it's seeing you that i'm excited
about, not the wedding itself.
tho actually it is kind of cool, seeing
my sister all blissed out about this
guy and planning a life with him.
made me wonder if I'll ever do that.
you think you would? get married, i
mean? (don't panic. not a proposal!
just curious)

I hit
reply
and start typing:

hey ethan.

Then I freeze up. I want to tell him about what my dad just said about gay marriage, and about Aaliyah and Mrs. Buckley...to tell him about everything, the way I have been for the last few months. But how can I keep talking to him like nothing is wrong? And how do I end this without hurting him?

In the end, I just switch off the computer and lie on my bed until it's time to meet Gabi.

Gabi's already at Java Joe's when I arrive, her hair all spiked up and newly blond.

“Hey, babe,” she says.

“Hey, Gabi.” I slide into the chair across from her. “Nice hair.”

“I already ordered,” she says.

Two frothy, pale green, whipped-cream-topped drinks are sitting on the table.

I grimace. “What is that?”

“Mint mocha latte,” she says. “It's on me.”

Gabi never drinks regular coffee like everyone else. She likes her drinks sugar-filled. She doesn't usually make me drink them though.

“What's up?” I ask. “Why the generosity with the frothy green beverages?”

She grins. “We're celebrating.”

“Ah. Last night was a success then?”

She leans across the table and grabs my arm. “Derek, success would be an understatement.”

I raise one eyebrow. “You got laid?”

“So crude,” Gabi says, pretending to be shocked. Then she winks. “She is so hot.”

“And not so straight?”

Gabi grins broadly. “Not so straight at all.”

This is Gabi's solution to living in a small town. As she says, she's already dated all the girls who know they're queer. Now she's dating the ones who aren't quite sure.

She suddenly turns serious. “What about you, Derek? What's up?”

I frown. “It's Ethan.”

“No way. He didn't dump you. I don't believe it.”

Gabi's heard a lot about Ethan over the past few months. She's even read some of his e-mails.

“No,” I say, hesitating. I have to talk to someone but it feels so...humiliating.

“What is it then?” Her pixie face creases with concern, and her green eyes meet mine.

“Ethan is flying out from bc,” I say. “His sister's getting married in Kitchener and he wants to come and see me.”

Gabi stares at me. “And? Hello? This is a problem because?”

I shake my head. “This is really embarrassing.”

“You're shy.” She tilts her head to one side. “He doesn't know he's your first, you know, boyfriend?”

“It's not that. He knows that.”

“So what's the problem?”

I take a sip of sugary whipped cream. “Ugh,” I say.

“Derek. Come on. What's wrong?”

I stare at the surface of my drink and stir it with the spoon. “I sent him a picture of myself. An old one. You know, before I put on all this weight.”

Gabi looks surprised. “You did? Why?”

“Yeah. I know it was stupid but I didn't really think we'd ever meet, you know?”

She studies my face. “It's not that big a deal. So you're a bit heavier than you were. You're still the same person he's been talking to every day for months. For, like, hours. And hours and hours—”

“I'm not going to meet him. I can't.”

Gabi grabs her spiky hair with both hands. “Derek! Don't be an idiot. This guy is the best thing that's happened to you in ages.”

“Thanks.”

“Seriously. You and Ethan are—I don't know, soul mates or something. You're crazy about him. He's crazy about you.”

I blink. “I know.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I'm going to break up with him,” I say. “I have to.”

She shakes her head. “No. No, no, no. Don't do that. You guys are really good together.”

“Gabi, we've never met. I'm not letting him come all the way out here so he can dump me in person when he finds out I'm fat.”

“You're not.”

I just look at her.

She shrugs. “Okay, so you're fat. You're also terrific, smart, funny and kind. And you're still the same person Ethan fell in love with. Give the guy a chance.”

I fold my arms across my chest. Maybe Gabi is right. Maybe Ethan would be able to see past the fat.

But I've already made up my mind.

I figure there's no point in putting it off. So when I get home, I switch on the computer. Ethan's not online, which is good. I don't think I could handle a conversation about this.

ethan
, I write,
i've been thinking about
things and i think it would be better
if u didn't come here. i don't think we
should meet in person. the thing is, i
don't think we should really continue
this relationship. i'm sorry. i hope
u have a good time at the wedding
anyway

I rub my hands over my face. I feel like I should say more, give some explanation, but there's no explanation I can give. I delete the last line, the one about having a good time at the wedding. Then I hit
Send
.

At 3 am I'm still awake, wondering what Ethan will think when he reads the e-mail. I roll over and kick off the blankets. Too hot, too cold, too hot. Finally I get out of bed, find Ethan's picture under the mouse pad and take it back to bed with me. I turn on my bedside light and study the face: his easy smile, his smooth cheeks and straight nose, his warm brown eyes. I trace the smile with my finger, lay the picture beside me on my pillow and turn out the light.

It seems like a few minutes later that my alarm is going off. I drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth, gargle with mouthwash. I keep looking at the computer while I'm getting dressed. Ethan will still be sleeping, since it's three hours earlier out west.

Francine tells me I'm with Aaliyah again this morning. As I walk up the stairs, I realize I'm glad. She's prickly as hell, but there's something about her.

She's waiting in the living room, her hair lank and dark gray shadows ringing her eyes.

“I need a shower,” she says.

“Okay.” I look at her. “I thought you didn't like male care workers.”

She shrugs. “You're okay. Besides, that girl Paula makes me crazy. Talks to me like I'm retarded, or six years old. Like this place is a daycare for toddlers.”

I grin. “That's what Mrs. Buckley says too.”

“The old lady down the hall?” Aaliyah looks surprised.

“Yeah. She's all right. You should talk to her sometime. I think she gets lonely.”

“Well, aren't you just Mr. Sensitive,” Aaliyah says, wheeling herself into the bathroom.

I follow her in. “Ready to go?”

She nods and I start unbuttoning her
shirt. “So,” I say, “what happened with your ex? Did you tell him you wanted to end it?”

“I did.” She meets my eyes for a second. Then she drops her gaze.

“Umm...how did you tell him? What did he say?” I picture Ethan sitting in front of his computer, reading my words.