150 Pounds (20 page)

“Did you hear that?” Alexis asked.

“I think I have the gist,” Noah answered. He put an arm around her. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“It’s just … Billy’s my whole family and best friend wrapped into one, you know?” She instantly regretted saying it. Her voice had cracked. It sounded like she was asking him to pity her.

“I hear you,” Noah said. “With my family so far away, it’s pretty much me and Oliver in the bachelor pad. I think Billy is lucky to have you.”

“Hmmm,” Alexis said, unnerved by his praise. She stared out the window.

“Eat,” Noah said gently. “Food helps ease the soul.”

Alexis sighed. “I guess if I don’t eat anything else for the rest of the day…” she said. The food was so good, so warm and sweet. As a child she’d devour French toast; their maid Elsa cooked it and put a whipped cream heart on top. She’d leave a square of butter on top and let them pour on as much maple syrup as they wanted. Mark called the butter “butter boats,” and they would use their forks to race the yellow squares until they melted.

She ate slowly, relishing each bite. She spoke only once to ask for more syrup. Following the toast were homemade croissants, baked in her crappy little oven she’d been using to store extra shoes. Noah buttered hers, then ate four himself.

“I usually go to the gym now,” she said reluctantly, when she’d finished everything on her plate, and then, when Noah wasn’t looking, licked it.

“Aren’t you exhausted?” he asked. “We didn’t get home until pretty late.” He glanced at the clock on the stove, and she realized he didn’t wear a watch.

It was true. She ached everywhere, and longed to go back to her bed. “Want to come with me?” she asked. She smiled at him. Not her scary smile, the one she flashed right before telling guys off who approached her, but a tired one, a little-girl smile. She felt so full she could burst, but the food and the feeling it gave her was of being cared for. She understood suddenly how people ate to feel better, but she pushed away the thought. How horrible, if she were to turn into someone that weak. Today was an anomaly; she’d have to work twice as hard in the gym to work it off.

“I do,” he said. He looked at her meaningfully, reading her.

“I can’t believe you got me to eat all that starchy food,” she exclaimed, as they walked down the hallway. She felt nervous, which was totally uncharacteristic of her. She was usually like a lioness before the kill when she went to bed with men. She enjoyed the buildup, the power. Now, she felt powerless. She didn’t like it.

“Everybody needs a little comfort food now and again,” he said. “Besides, I already told you: I’m gonna put some meat on those bones of yours. Otherwise people are going to think I’m starving you.”

“You leave my bones alone,” she said, bumping his shoulder with her own, as they walked to her room. But she’d liked what he’d said, as if these mythological “people” were surrounding them and their couplehood, watching them, that they were indeed to be a couple, or something along those lines.

Again, she got into bed fully clothed. Noah lay next to her, over the blankets. She leaned over and turned off the heater. She’d left it on last night when she left for the cooking class (
god, that seemed like ages ago!
) and her pillows were on fire.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, pulling her on top of him.

“Okay, then,” she replied, and felt his hands wrap around her head, comb through her hair, gently turn her face to his, and then he did indeed kiss her, his large lips gentle but insistent. It wasn’t until she felt the softness of his lips that she realized there was something so hard within herself, a boulder she’d thought was immovable. She’d closed herself off as rigidly as the smooth maple wood of Mark’s casket she’d trailed her hands upon before he was lowered into the earth.

How strange, that she would think of her brother now, in this moment. When a boy kissed her. But it felt natural, as she thought of him so often. Every experience she had was tainted by her memory of him, and yet … and yet this one felt okay. Good, even. Like it was meant to be, and she was comforted that Noah somehow had caused her brother’s lopsided grin to pop into her head.

She was glad Noah didn’t use his tongue right away, at least not in her mouth. She wasn’t into sloppy kissing, but Noah did everything right, and as he reached up in that way men do when they are so eager to cup your breasts, he whispered into her ear, “Are you on the pill?” and she whispered back, “No, it makes you fat. But I have condoms,” and so that’s what they used.

For the first time, Alexis Allbright had a man in her room other than Billy, and felt full of both homemade French toast and a tiny flicker of happiness. She allowed herself to unwind, to release into Noah. And he accepted her with such kindness, such gentle loving touches, she could barely entertain the notion that she’d only met him last night. It was only later, much later, that she realized she’d forgotten to input the calories of her breakfast into her phone app.

When she woke, the sun was hitting the wall opposite her bed, and the blinds left shadows of lines on her white duvet. Outside, a taxi horn beeped and two men yelled at one another in Spanish. The M3 bus squealed to a stop a block down. Two women discussed where to go for afternoon tea. She guessed it was midafternoon. It felt strange to not be at the gym. She missed her locker room suddenly, and her pink weights, running on the treadmill. But this was good, too.

Rolling over, she realized she was alone in the bed, and she nuzzled her face deeper into her pillow, smelling Noah everywhere. What he’d done to her, the places where he’d kissed and stroked her … he was so much more skilled and tender than the assholes she’d been seeing since she moved to New York. She felt she’d known him her whole life. She’d had an orgasm so strong she’d dug her fingers into his shoulders deeply enough that he’d have marks. She smiled, remembering. She didn’t even care how many wrinkles smiling was causing her. Surely sex that scrumptious had been good for her body. She felt better than when Sarah put her through a grueling workout, or when she got a smorgasbord of positive comments on a
Skinny Chick
article or post. She felt the way one did after a cool shower on a hot day, after a full-body massage.

Billy and Noah were in the living room discussing their favorite microbreweries, she could hear their voices as she walked in. It turned out Noah had a vast net of knowledge when it came to beers Alexis had never heard of. “In Colorado every bar brews its own beer,” he was saying. “It’s awesome. I want to bring that laid-back vibe to New York.”

“I’ve got to get out there,” Billy said. “Alexis and I go to Blind Tiger a lot to sample new beers. You should totally come with!” As Noah nodded his head enthusiastically (the man was so damn
cheerful
!), Alexis studied Billy.

The dark circles underneath his eyes seemed less blue, and the sheen of sweat was gone from his face, but he still looked tired.

“Aldo called,” Alexis said, leaning against the doorframe. Her hipbone jutted out and she rearranged her body so that the wood didn’t poke her uncomfortably. Noah patted the seat beside him, but she pretended she didn’t see. It was instinctual for her survival that she didn’t let on how deeply he’d affected her. She was used to being the one in control, leaving the morning after in a cab. But here Noah was, still in her apartment. This made Alexis feel uneasy. She was in uncharted territory.

“Alexis, Noah has been baking up in here and you have to see the muffins he made. They are amazing! I don’t even care if I add inches to my hips. He’s like the black Julia Child, I swear to god!”

Noah laughed. Alexis was amazed by how comfortable he was around Billy, having just met him, even though Billy was pressuring Noah to take a cue from the Naked Chef and bake à la fresco when he opened up his restaurant. They usually didn’t engage in conversation with outsiders, preferring to spend time with each other.

“I don’t think that guy actually
is
naked, he just calls himself that,” Noah was saying, amused.

She walked over to the kitchen. There, cooling, were rows and rows of plump tan muffins. They were beautiful and her stomach growled loudly. She quickly looked around for her bananas, took one off the microwave, and started cutting it.

“And he puts Guinness into them, too!” Billy exclaimed. “The man’s a genius. Mr. Wu came by, and he’s going to rent out the old fur store to Noah!”

“Wow, that’s great,” Alexis said. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his brewpub being so close to her. She felt edgy again, closed in. It had all happened so fast, overnight. She felt a churning within her; something was changing. The worry passed, however, when Noah smiled across the countertop at her and she couldn’t help but return it, shyly.

“Looks like we’re in business,” Noah said.

We?

Fat and Fabulous

This is one of the strangest posts I’ve ever made. My great-aunt Mimi died last night. She was ninety, so I guess that means she lived a long life, but still: it’s sad when anyone dies. I hadn’t seen Mimi for a couple of years, since college, though I know my mother has visited her weekly. My father was raised by Aunt Mimi after his parents died in a car crash when he was eight.

Mimi loved the hell out of some wigs and makeup. Since she left me the farm I found a photo album at my mom’s house and Mimi is shown equally blond, redheaded, and brunette throughout her life. She was married long ago, but my great-uncle Fred died in World War II. She never had children; I don’t believe she could.

When I was thirteen and got my period, Mimi bought me maxi pads and showed me how to peel off the plastic liner and stick them into my underpants. I remember it felt like a torpedo. She was a Fattie, like me, and when she was young her job was to dress women to the nines for Universal Studios glamour shots. She even met Marilyn Monroe once. She knew how to dress a big body before the movement came along to do so, before one single fashion designer had nice clothing for curvy girls. She cut and sewed her own designs in all sorts of fabrics, silks, cashmeres, velvets … and they were gorgeous, exquisite, and classy.

Her farmhouse in Chester sits atop a stretch of fifteen acres that to me as a kid looked like the jungle in
Where the Wild Things Are
because Mimi never really had a green thumb. She let nature take over, which means all fifteen acres are forest, with thick brush intertwined with thorny rosebushes and hundreds of trees that are allowed to drop their seeds wherever they want when the wind blows. Letting the land remain overgrown was a metaphor for how Mimi lived her life; she didn’t believe in forcing people to be one way or another. She thought wildflowers and woods were beautiful.

In the end, she’d gone a bit batty between the ears, but we still visited her from time to time. Once, a neighbor called my mom to tell her Mimi was sitting in a baby pool in her front yard, only she’d forgotten to put on a bathing suit and was drinking Manhattans all afternoon. When I lose my marbles, please let me be naked and drunk in a pool, not left to rot in an old-age home.

So, loyal readers, I’m sitting on a speeding train on good ol’ New Jersey Transit to see my property. Yes, that’s right: Mimi left her farm to me. Having been a city kid for so long here in Hoboken, I’m flabbergasted as to what to do with it, but Mimi was mysterious like that; you never knew when she was kidding, and I feel like somehow through me her legacy lives on. I just hope I’m worthy of the challenge!

Still, I can’t imagine why she left a run-down house and land to someone who is used to living in a city with no backyard! I guess I’ll find out. And all of you will, along with me. I love you, Mimi, always and forever.
Fat and Fabulous
will return after the trip to Chester. To be continued …

Shoshana loved walking from her apartment to the Hoboken train station. She saw the same people every time, the characters that made up her neighborhood.

It had rained overnight and she kicked up wet leaves as she walked. One stuck to the side of her shoe but she didn’t mind giving it a ride.
FOR SALE
signs were abundant, hanging from iron gates. Instead of front yards, or grass, buildings here had pavement and iron gates. Some had little bushes planted out front. She liked looking up and trying to guess whether the four- or five-story buildings were single-family or part of the many in Hoboken that were cut up and divided into several apartments. Some clues to determine a single-family were identical blinds or curtains in all windows, or pristine boxwood bushes and flower bed plantings in front. It was easiest to tell during the holidays, as often there would be a single candle lit and placed in all windows facing the street, but as it was spring she had a harder time playing the guessing game.