The Break-Up Diet: A Memoir (30 page)

The momentary distraction didn't stray his course. Steven stopped and turned to face me. “I think you should have a chance to do what you really want to do. I want to be able to see you living your dream.”

Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. I wanted it too and I was doing the best I could. Why did he keep pressing me about it? I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in the front of his sweatshirt. I just wanted to listen to the waves and not have to think about how slowly things were going with my book. I still didn't even have an ending.

Steven leaned down to whisper in my ear, “I love you. I want to take care of you and Josh, so you can write fulltime.”

“Are you sure?” I looked up into his eyes and tears spilled down my cheeks. I couldn't believe Steven had offered me the chance to focus on pursuing my dream. “You've never even read anything I've written. What if it sucks?”

“I believe in
you
,” he said.

fat and happy remix

Wednesday, January 29

I heard him coughing in the bedroom. The sound traveled all the way into the kitchen. I stared down at the whole chicken carcass lying naked on the cutting board. The skin was covered with little bumps and it just looked miserably cold and pale. Lifting it gingerly by one knobby ankle or elbow or whatever it was, I let it sink into the pot of boiling water seasoned with bouillon.

My Danish prince was sick, so he definitely needed some chicken noodle soup. I hadn't cooked meat in over a decade, but how hard could it be?

I turned to see Josh watching me from the kitchen table. “I can't believe you're actually touching a dead chicken. You must be in-love with him.”

After that odd comment, I paused to study Josh's expression. “I am,” I said. “But what do you think about Steven?”

He pushed his homework aside and rested his elbows on the table. “I think he's nice. He's like a make-things-get-done guy. And you always look happy when you're with him.” He shrugged. “So, I like him.”

I turned and poked a fork into the lump of yard bird, pushing it around inside the pot. While the chicken enjoyed its spa bath, I moved to the cutting board to chop the celery, carrots, parsnips, and leeks. Then I backtracked to set a teapot of water on to boil.

“What do you think about me trying to be in a serious relationship again?” I said.

Josh considered my question for a minute before speaking. “I just hope he stays.”

There it was. Hills like white elephants. The unspoken thought, finally brought up for scrutiny. I certainly couldn't blame Josh for his concerns. Every man who should have been important in his life had left him. And me. His father disappeared. My father died. And the few guys I tried to build a serious relationship with over the last fourteen years never made it past year number two. It would take a leap of faith for us both to believe Steven would be different.

I dumped the chopped vegetables into the pot, followed by a bag of egg noodles and put the lid on the pot.

I pulled up a chair next to Josh at the table. “I hope he stays too.” I covered one of his hands with both of mine. “You know, not everyone leaves…”

When the teapot began a soft whistle, I rose and lifted it from the stovetop, pouring the steaming water into a thick ceramic mug. The bag of green tea floated and then slowly sank to the bottom, releasing the first golden swirl.

“Be back in a minute.” I paused a second to rest my hand on his shoulder as I passed. “Finish up that essay and we'll watch a movie.”

I carried the cup into the bedroom and sat on the edge of my bed. Steven's eyelids flickered and opened. A slow smile spread across his face.

“I'm a mess, huh?” His voice sounded raspy and parched. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You're welcome.” I lifted the damp washcloth from the bowl on the nightstand and patted it across his forehead.

“I must have a high fever. I'm transpiring all over.”

A small giggle squeaked from between my lips. “
Per
spiring,” I corrected gently.

“What did I say?”

“Transpiring.”

“Oh. That isn't quite right.”

“That's okay, I'll just give you the Danish discount.” I loved his occasional language slips; they always made me laugh. “I'll just add ‘transpiring’ to my notebook of Stevonics.”

I kissed the top of his head and Steven closed his eyes. “Rest for now and when you wake up later you can have something to eat,” I said.

On the way out of the room, I walked past the mirrored closet door and did a double-take. My torso looked a bit thick. I swiveled and looked at my ass.

Plump.

Not the best word to describe a woman's butt—unless the butt belonged to someone else.

I unhooked the clasps on the straps of my jean overalls. They fell to the floor, pausing just slightly as they passed my hips. Maybe it's just the mirror.

I waddled into the bathroom with the overalls in a jumble around my ankles. Maybe that mirror would be better. A skinny mirror.

The skylight filled the bathroom with bright, natural light. I turned and presented my bottom to the mirror. Somehow my ass had morphed into a giant Georgia peach rolled in cottage cheese. I spun away from the sight and scrambled for the scale, nearly tripping as I stumbled out of my overalls.

I stripped off the rest of my clothes and stepped onto the scale. Eight pounds? When did I gain eight pounds?
How
did I gain eight pounds?

Okay, so it's winter. Steven's an amazing cook. We go out to dinner a lot. And maybe I have been wearing mostly overalls and sweats, but eight pounds?

I redressed and shuffled back to the kitchen, contemplating my girth. Happy fat. That had to be it. The antithesis of the break-up diet. I'm officially fat and happy. I think I'd prefer skinny and happy. Is that even possible? I wondered if Steven had noticed he's dating a tree trunk with legs. The waist-less wonder.

A heavy rattling sound drew my attention to the stove. I turned to Josh. “Why didn't you tell me it was boiling?”

“You didn't tell me I had to watch it,” he said.

Boys. A short sigh pushed through my nose. I lifted the lid and looked into the soup pot. A cloud of steam fogged my lashes. The package of large egg noodles I had added formed a thick bubbling paste.

Oops. The beige colored mush didn't even look edible much less resemble soup. The water had almost completely absorbed.

Josh peered over my shoulder into the pot. “It looks like something the dogs barfed up.”

“Should I throw it away?” I wondered briefly if take-out Chinese was good for a cold.

“No, I think it smells okay.” Josh picked up the wooden spoon and poked at the bubbling mass.

“Will you taste it for me to see if it tastes all right?” I asked.

“Do I have to?” Josh looked from my face to the fork I held out to him. “If he's sick, then he won't really be able to taste it anyway.”

I plied him with an exasperated look.

“Okaaaay. I'll try it,” he said.

Josh took a small bite, tentatively scraping the food off the fork with his front teeth. His face contorted in a disgusted grimace, then he smiled. “I'm just kidding. It tastes fine, but it feels like mush.”

I took a swat at his butt and he jumped away from my hand. “Hey, at least I'm being honest.”

Well, it might not look very good, but it seemed to be edible. And I had already warned Steven that I wasn't exactly Betty Crocker. I could pretend it was
supposed
to be a big, gloppy mess.

Goulash—there's an idea. That's what I'd tell Steven I made for him: Chicken Noodle Goulash. Good, hardy sustenance. I could say I heard that it's better than soup for a cold.

once upon a time there was a princess…

Sunday, February 2

Select All. Copy. Paste. I harvested another diary entry from my journal and began massaging the record of my daily life into the next descriptive narrative for my book. I was lucky if I completed a single page in an hour. Sometimes several hours would pass as I mentally relived the moments of every account.

Steven stepped behind me and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “How's the writing coming?” he asked.

I tilted my head back and we shared an upside-down French kiss. “Much better, now that you're here.” I lifted my arms above me to stretch out the tight muscles in my shoulders and receive a hug.

“Actually, I've been here for a while. I was out mowing your lawn.” He sat on the edge of the bed beside my desk.

“I thought that was Josh.” Then I realized the absurdity of my statement. Josh hated mowing and wouldn't do it unless I offered money or threatened great bodily harm.

“I've got him out there now,” he said, “doing the edging.”

Steven stole a glance at my open document on the computer.

“Did you want to read it?” I motioned to the page view filling the monitor screen. I'd never thought to offer it to him before.

Steven looked at me with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. “Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead.” I scrolled back to the beginning of the story and switched places with him.

Once Steven settled into my chair, I felt the disclaimers bubble to my lips. “It's just a first draft, so it's really rough. I know it needs a lot more work…”

He waved away my anxiety. “I only want to see what you do. I'm not reading to judge it.”

I stretched out on the bed, tucked a pillow under my chin, and watched him read.

Steven stopped at the bottom of the first page.

“He broke up with you over the phone?” The contempt in his tone was tangible. “You never told me that. What kind of coward breaks up with a woman over the phone?” His brows pulled together. “Did that really happen or did you make that up?”

“It's true,” I said, and wondered how he'd react when he reached the part about Ryan. “Are you sure you want to read it? It's everything that's happened since Kevin left, right up until I met you.”

I could see him weighing the pros and cons in his mind until he finally decided. “I'd like to read it all. I think it would be a good way to learn more about you.”

I immediately wanted to snatch back my offer. Maybe there were some things he'd be better off not knowing. But it was too late to change my mind without looking like I had something to hide.

“Knock yourself out. My life is an open book.” I shrugged, surrendering to the inevitable—whatever that might be.

I rested my cheek against the pillow and listened to the rhythmic click of the mouse as he scrolled. Then I closed my eyes, just for a minute.

When I awoke, I saw night curtained the windows. A halo of incandescent light stretched from above the desk to where I lay across the bed. I lifted my head to find Steven watching me, still sitting in my chair.

“Hey.” I offered a sleepy smile. “I wasn't snoring, or drooling, or doing anything gross like that was I?”

He shook his head. “Not that I noticed.”

“What time is it? How long did I sleep?” I sat up and squinted to check the clock.

“About three hours. Are you hungry? Josh and I had pizza. I ordered a medium veggie with jalapenos for you. Do you want me to warm up a couple slices?”

“I can't believe you left me sleeping for three hours. It wasted our time together.” The irritation in my voice was obvious.

The brightness of the computer screen highlighted the side of his face and his slight frown. “You seemed tired so I let you sleep. I read what you wrote, and we ate some pizza. No big deal.”

I hated how tired I always felt in the winter, just about as much as I hated feeling like I'd missed out on something. But both of those sentiments were eclipsed by my curiosity.

“So…” I started the awkward segue, nodding toward the monitor. “What did you think?”

He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. Bad body language: distance and a closed position. He hated it.

“Come over by me.” I smoothed the quilt with a few short brushes of my palm.

Steven moved beside me on the bed. He stretched out on his side and propped his elbow up to cradle his head in his hand. “Well, there is something I want to talk to you about.”

I rolled onto my back, closer to him, and looked up into his face. “Okaay.” My stomach sank and my heart thumped heavily in my chest. What if he thought my writing totally sucked? And what if he regrets his blind decision to support it?

Steven ran his fingers in my hair, stroking it back from my forehead. “Before we get started, I want you to know I'm not a jealous man.”

Ryan. Of course that had to bother him. How can any normal guy read all the graphic details about his girlfriend having wild, monkey sex with a guy who has a giant dick?

He continued in the same tone, oblivious to my wincing apprehension of his next comment. “I wanted to ask you some questions about Kevin.”

“Who?”

Steven looked puzzled. “Your ex-boyfriend?”

It took me a minute to switch gears. I was as astonished as he was by my response. I was just surprised that Steven considered Kevin a topic of concern.

“Okay, yeah.” I stumbled over the awkward moment. “What do you want to know?”

Steven looked directly into my eyes and held my gaze. “Are you sure you're really over him?”

“Completely.” The word came out without the slightest pause.

He still looked skeptical. “After everything I read about your feelings for him, I wanted to hear what you have to say.”

I tried not to laugh. It certainly wasn't the right moment for it, but he looked so serious and I felt like his concern about Kevin couldn't be any less necessary.

I looked directly into his eyes. “I have such a greater connection with you on every level. Being with you just feels right. Yes, I was deeply in-love with Kevin, but there was a weakness in him that you don't have.”

Steven considered my statement before responding. “In what way?” he asked.

“Kevin worried so much about what people thought of him. But you have this quiet self-assurance. I love everything about you.” I rolled onto my stomach and I faced Steven, balancing on my forearms. “You have such a strong grasp on how you fit in with the world and where you're going. Kevin always seemed so uncertain and lost. I tried so hard to overlook it and be driven enough for both of us. In the end, he was the one who realized that our relationship wouldn't work.”