It started with a plate full of food.
It was no different than the plate full I had eaten the night before, or the night before that.
In fact it was no different than any dinner I had eaten for the last fifteen to twenty years of my life.
What made the food in front of me repugnant was... laughter.
I could hear it echoing in my ears even as I looked down at the food.
Looking up from a meal I would have considered delicious just this morning, I turn my head. I look at my dad sitting just a few feet away ladling gravy onto a small mountain of mash potatoes. They're three large pieces of fried chicken hang off his plate. The glass bottle of beer in front of him sits next to its empty brother. I look to the open collar of his shirt. I can just make out the top of the scar from the triple bypass he had sixteen months ago. I look at his red, flushed face, a good sign his blood pressure is through the roof.
I glance over at my mom with her near equal plate of food. One less piece of chicken, maybe a bit less potatoes. She has a pile of fried okra almost half buried under the side of one of her pieces of chicken. The tall bottle of diet coke sitting in front of her catches my eye.
The laughter rings in my ears.
I look across at my little brother. He's sure growing fast I hear all the time. Last I heard he's twenty pounds heavier than I was at his age. I watch him bite into a chicken leg with a frantic haste. Like he has to get to the next leg before it walks away.
The laughter...
Pushing back my chair, I get up from the table.
"Dean? Where you going?" my dad asks around a mouthful of chicken.
Stopping by the door to the dining room, I look back at my family.
"I'm not hungry." I take a deep breath. I almost feel nauseous as the smell of dinner fills my nose. "I'm going for a ride, I'll be back latter."
"Dean? Are you feeling alright?" I hear my mom ask as I start to walk away. "But it's your favorite."
"I'm fine Mom, just not hungry." Looking over my shoulder I walk towards the back door.
"I'll put it up for you. You can have it when you get back." She calls after me.
"Can I have his chicken?" I hear my brother ask as I step out the backdoor and walk towards my car.
Getting in I look for only a second at my own reflection in the rear view mirror.
I try to drive away from the laughter, but it follows me faster than my car can go.
Tall glowing sign after sign calls out to me as I drive past them. Offering all manner of gastronomic indulgences. For once none of them appeal.
I pull my car into the little park near the house. It's often been a place I have gone to eat my lunch. Checking out the girls jogging around the lake. Today it's a familiar refuge. Walking over I sit down on one of the concrete benches and look out across the water at the floating white ducks.
Laughter...
The humiliation of it comes home with a feeling of sick self-loathing.
If it was just the laughter from this morning I could maybe just let it slip by, but it's kind of like the straw that broke the camels back. Years of it all piled together to a weight I can no longer bare. Can no longer live with.
I look down at the new fabric of my jeans, a Christmas present, they're a size bigger than last time I bought pants. Two sizes bigger than last year.
Looking up I see a jogger go past me. His pace slow and steady. As he runs out of sight I get to my feet and take off after him.
I make it maybe a few dozen feet before I start to feel the stitch in my side. I push through that with gritted teeth, then it suddenly feels like I'm trying to suck air through a pillow. I have to stop. Gasping I turn and look back at the bench I was sitting on.
It looks absurdly close.
Panting I walk back to my car and nearly shatter the glass in the door I slam it so hard. I crank the motor and turn the AC up to full blast. The feeling of air hitting my face, an instant relief.
Looking up at myself in the mirror I see the sweat on my brow, the red flush to my cheeks. I feel the throbbing in my ears as loud as a drum.
My stomach grumbles. I look down at it hating it. Hating the feeling of hunger that's steadily growing.
It's several minute before I pull out the parking lot and turn towards home. Towards the big meal mom has no doubt saved for me. Providing my brother hasn't stolen all of it.
As I drive past the strip malls with the half dozen places to eat calling my name like a lover, I see a sign that's different.
'Victory Gym'
Why I pull in I have no idea. My hands all, but turn the car into the parking lot by themselves.
Through the wide glass windows I can see the myriad array of weight machines, tread mills, and stationary bikes. I watch the people running in place, or using the other equipment in it's own way. It's several minutes before I open the door to my car.
As I step inside I feel the eyes settle on me. As my feet carry me to the wide front desk I see the smirks and hear a few snickers from around me.
The laughter...like this morning.
For half a second I almost run out the gym, but the knowledge I couldn't get to my car without breathing hard and breaking into a sweat stops me.
The gorgeous lady behind the desk smiles a practiced smile as I sign the member ship papers. I can all but hear her thought as I hand her my credit card.
I take the little booklet from her with my membership card and walk into the gym. I look down at the floor so I don't see the smirks.
Looking around unsure of what does what I finally make a decision, keep it simple. I watch a guy as he gets up from a bench press and walk away toward the treadmills. Walking over to the weight bench I sit down. The leather is still hot from his body as I lay down and lift my hands up to the bar above me. As I start to push up a pair of hands catches the center of the bar and stops me cold.
Lying on my back I stare up at what is probably the most intimidating woman I have ever seen in my life. Her hair a short iron gray it frames out a face tight to her skull. Her skin is a deep bronze color from many years of tanning. Deep lines run from her nose down the side of her mouth like they were carved there. From either side of her neck stand out large muscles that flow into rounded shoulder and thick arms. Her breast sit tight to her chest under the thin T-shirt she wears. I see the gym logo between them. My eyes go a little further down the waterfall of her stomach then back to her face. Her blue eyes stand out from her dark tanned skin like sapphires.
"How much do you weigh?" she asks me in a voice that has more of a rumble to it than my own.
I swallow, but don't answer.
"It's a simple question." She shrugs. " I can guess if you like, I'll probably come close, I just don't want to insult you if I'm too high." She gives me a slight smile.
I look away from her face.
"Two ninety eight." I know it's really higher, but I can't say that number.
"I was going to say three o five. Can you do a single pull up?" she asks softly. Her voice doesn't carry beyond me.
Closing my eyes I give my head a little shake.
"Then answer me this. If you can't do that what in the hell makes you think you can lift this?" She glances to either side of the bar. "See the big weights? Those are fifty-pounds apiece. You'll note the four of them. See the two small ones those are twenty fives. You were about to lift within forty pounds of your weight off these pegs, without a spotter I might add, and try to press it without even doing the first warm up lift."
"Sorry."
"You would be the one sorry if I hadn't seen what you were doing and stopped you. If some how you had cleared the pegs this bar most likely would have come down on you face, or throat. Now get up from there."
I let go of the bar and sit up. I look down and away from the eyes of the others in the gym. When I glance up at her face I'm expecting pity, but what I see is a frank look of appraisal. Her eyes slowly going from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.
She looks around and I see the people in the gym find better things to look at.
"Tony!" she calls out to a guy who looks like he could lift the bar I couldn't with two fingers. "Mind the shop."
"Sure Vicky." He gestures to another guy in a gym staff shirt who comes over and takes over spotting for a lifter. 'Tony' starts to walk the floor offering encouragement and advice.
"Follow me." she says with a jerk of her head.
I walk behind her my eyes going to the play of muscles along her calves, thighs, and ass as she walks. I try to make a guess at her age and can't. Her hair would belong on a woman of forty plus, but the way her body moves says thirty.
We walk into an office and she closes the door behind me silencing the noises of the gym.
"What's your name?" she asks me taking a seat on the side of her desk. When she crosses her arms across her chest the muscles of her forearms stretch tight and I can see the lines of her veins.
"Dean." I tell her snapping my eyes up from her now hidden nipples to her eyes.
She looks at me for a second then an eyebrow slowly rises.
"Any reason I shouldn't know your last name? I can always check your membership papers."
"It's Martin." I tell her looking away from her face and at the walls of the office. I see the bodies that I envy on the posters around me.
"Your parent have a sick since of humor." She tells me after a second. "So Dean what are you wanting?"
"What?" I ask confused. I look back at those deep blue eyes.
She smiles at me, it softens her face a lot.
"You came into my gym...I'm Victoria by the way. Victoria Corbrit. You came into my gym wanting something. What is it? I seriously doubt it was to commit suicide by weight bench."
I look over at one of the posters. The guy is massive, but every muscle stands out in clear definition from his body. He looks like he doesn't have an ounce of fat on him.
