Chapter 2 

I tried to think of something else clever to say as I completely exited the bathroom.

I could hear Sam’s voice in my head, “Come on Megan, you can do this, just be yourself.”

Myself. Just be myself.

I took a deep breath, stood up straight, and said, “Nice…pants.”

Smooth Megan, real smooth.

The frustration on his face immediately melted away and he suddenly started smiling at me. I mean right at me.

Words started pouring out of my mouth. “I’m so sorry, I was just standing here and you were talking…”

He started to laugh. “Nice…pants. That’s great.”

I giggled. “Yeah, I, uhm, yeah.”

Wow, I am just a poet today.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. It’s been a lousy date, I mean day and…”

“No, don’t apologize. I’ve been there myself.” I could feel my heart rate increasing.

His eyes sparkled and his face lit up when he laughed. “I really needed a good laugh. Thanks.”

As the awkward silence stood between us, I shifted my feet a few times and searched my brain for more smart and clever things to say. None came to mind but I did blurt out, “So, that’s what it’s like to be third person omniscient. I’ve always wondered.”

Does he know what omniscient means? I said that word to Carl and he thought I was talking about Brittany Spears’ new perfume.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m just fine.” He casually leaned against the wall. “After listening to my date ramble, it’s just nice to hear a woman use a three syllable word.”

He called me a woman? Really?

“Thanks.” My cheeks felt hot. It had been a long time since I’d received a compliment from a guy. It felt good to be noticed.

I wondered what kind of boyfriend he was. Did he bring flowers or wine, or candy, yeah candy.

Stop it!

Adonis stood about five-ten and had a nice, toned body. I figured with that in mind, he liked athletic girls who could run marathons and do a Pilates tape without stopping or gasping for air. I figured he liked girls who had perfect bodies and loved to exercise.

But for a moment, I fantasized he liked overweight, unconfident, nice personality girls, like me, who were works in progress. Girls who were comfortable and who weren’t anything flashy or exciting. Girls like me who would always be faithful and true.

Great, now I sound like a golden retriever.

I fantasized he wanted to rebel against society’s faux pas of dating a fat, lumpy, insecure woman.

And then I wondered what he looked like naked.

“I guess I better get back to my, uhm, date,” he sighed.

“Yeah, I have to get back to my table too.” I started to wring my hands.

He didn’t make any attempt to move. “I guess hearing about colon surgery can really affect your appetite.”

“Merde. Jeg er så flov. You did hear that.”

“Hard not to.”

“I was hoping you hadn’t.”

He stopped and cocked his head to the side. “You saw me before now?”

Caught again! Crap! What do I say?

“Yeah, well, your date,” I used air quotes, “is rather animated. It was hard not to watch her make all sorts of grandiose hand movements with all her jewelry. Plus, her tramp stamp is hard to miss too.”

“Tramp stamp? Oh yeah, the back tattoo. I haven’t gotten a good look at it.”

“It’s a Chinese zodiac tiger, so that means she’s about thirty or eighteen.” I smirked. “I’m guessing from what you’ve described of your conversation with her, she’s eighteen or there abouts.”

He rolled his eyes. “Barely legal, that’s just what I need.”

“Well, she is cute.”

“She’s so cute she’s distracting. I guess guys would find her lack of experience,” he looked at me and leaned in, “and I mean life experience, not, you know.”

“Right.” I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this.

“Apparently, my friend Patrick says she’s plenty experienced…sorry, I just met you and you probably don’t want to hear that.”

“You’re fine.”

“Thanks.”
     No, I mean your fine.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “She’s still pretty naive on pretty much everything else, as you could tell from my complaining to my friend on the phone.” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t need a Barbie doll, I’ve dated too many of those.”

Would you date Barbie’s overweight cousin, Bertha Doll?

“By the way, how did you know she was probably only about eighteen?”

The longer he talked to me, the more likely I was to say something completely stupid. My heart began to race.

Calm down, calm down. You can do this.

“She has a Chinese tiger on her back and that’s probably her zodiac sign.”

“It is.” He nodded and waved his hands above his head. “It matches all her ornamentation as she calls it.” He rolled his eyes.

“So that means she was born in either 1974 or 1986, the year of the tiger.” I playfully shrugged.  “I’m a pop culture nut. I pay attention to a lot of useless information like mythology, little known historical facts, minor holidays and well cultures in general so I that’s how I knew.”

“I bet you’d do well on a game show,” he laughed.

“I totally kick ass when I watch Jeopardy. I know about ninety percent of the answers.”

As I talked, a slow, seductive smile spread across his face. “Interesting, any other information I should know before returning to the table?”

Oh God, he’s sexy. I’m having trouble concentrating.

I started to feel nervous again and became very conscience of my appearance. My boring brown hair was pulled up into a French twist, I wore little make-up, and my squatty five-two frame wasn’t even close to its ideal weight range.

“Uhm, I would talk to her about traveling or music, maybe you could get a word in edgewise.”

He chuckled. “Yeah she’s got a lot of nothing to say.”

“I’m sure she’s got a lot of interesting things to say.”

“I’m sure she thinks so.”

We both just stood there, waiting for the other to start leaving.

Why isn’t he leaving or for that fact, why aren’t I leaving?

It was the same awkwardness that I felt during the end of my first real date with my first high school boyfriend, Mark. I had hoped he would make a move and he seemed frozen by the possibility that I actually wanted him to make a move.

“Wait, you said merde,” he pointed. “I’ve heard that before. You speak, what?”

“It’s shit in French.”

“You speak French?”

“Yeah,” I immediately replied.

“But you didn’t just speak French did you?”

“No, that second part was Danish. Basically I said I was embarrassed, about my family.”

Why both?”

“Because ‘oh shit’ or really ‘damn’ in Danish is for hevelde and it doesn’t flow as nicely across the lips as merde.”

He shot me a look that made me wonderfully uncomfortable. “So, you’re multilingual?”

     “Yes.” Do I elaborate? No one in my family thinks it’s a big deal.

 “What languages do you speak?”

I tried not to stutter. “E-English, of course." I cleared my throat. "Danish, Russian, German, French, Spanish, and Italian.”

His eyes lit up. “Italian. You speak Italian?”

What was that look?  This wasn’t how my new year was supposed to start. This, he was not in my plans, not yet. I was to get into better shape, get my life together and then the handsome prince and live happily ever after.

“Yes,” I was able to squeak out as my face started to feel very warm all over.

He took a step closer to me. “Say something in Italian.”

Say something sexy, something clever.

“Ho bisogno di verso lavaggio mio vestiti.”

You’re such a moron.

Adonis got a look on his face that wanted me to, well, do naughty things to him. “What did you say?”

Lie to him. He’ll never know you said something stupid. “I said, I need to do laundry.”

Dufus. No wonder you’re single.

The intensity of his eyes softened and he smiled. “Who thought doing laundry could sound so, appealing?”

“You should hear I have to get my car fixed. That’s very sexy.”

You might wonder how much bathroom traffic there was while we stood there. I couldn’t tell you, because I was enjoying every moment of Adonis’ full attention. Every thought in my mind had fantasies with him in it. Everything couldn’t have been better until a passer by whispered, “Get a room.”

Right then, I became very aware of how close we were standing to each other.

I stepped back, hoping I didn’t have bad breath. “Man, I have to get back to my family. They are probably wondering were I’ve been.”

“Yeah, I guess I have to get back to my table too.”

“It was great talking with you.” I felt disappointed that the moment had ended but who was I kidding? Men who look like him don’t date girls like me.

That only happens in fairy tales and fantasies. “It was the most interesting conversation I've had outside a bathroom.” I started to leave but then the unthinkable happened.

He stepped in front of me and gently put his hand out. “I’m…”

Before I even knew what I was doing, I stepped back and said, “No, please don’t. It’ll ruin the fantasy.”

What the hell was that? Ruin the fantasy?

I couldn’t even look him in the eyes but I could see from the reflection in the mirror on the wall, he was… amused.

“Excuse me.” I quickly tried to walk by him. “I have to get back to my, uhm, colon, no I mean, family.”

“Wait.” He put his hand on my shoulder and gently turned me towards him.

Mortified would not even begin to be the word I would use to describe my feelings at that moment.

“I have to know your name.” He leaned in, and gently whispered, “Just your name.”

Every fiber of my being just screamed my name. It had been so long since anyone wanted to know who I was.  I wanted to crawl into a shell and wait for him to leave but this time, I just couldn’t help myself.

“Megan.” I replied breathlessly. “My name is Megan.”

After Adonis coaxed my name from me, I rushed by and returned to my table.

Apparently, I looked flushed because my mother asked me from across the table, “Megan, are you alright? You look positively sick.”

Lust sick.

“Were you in the bathroom throwing up? Did you get drunk last night and just now get sick?” My mother shook her finger and my grandmother dramatically grabbed her chest and finished her third champagne cocktail. “You should know better than that.”

“No Mom, Gram, I’m fine.” I replied calmly as Adonis walked by our table and returned to his date.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see Sam looking at me. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” I lied and took a drink of water.

I knew she didn’t believe me, especially when she looked up and saw the same thing I did. Adonis smiling right at me.

“Hand it over.” She held out her hand and I pulled a ten from my purse. “We’ll talk later.”

After brunch ended and we all said our good byes, I headed home. I spent the next few hours sitting in front of my television, drinking ginger tea to quell the nauseated feeling from brunch and the glutton fest from the night before.

I’d spent last night at my best friend, Lydia’s apartment eating all those foods you promise yourself you’re giving up for the New Year. Things like cheese fondue, Ruffles with onion dip, homemade nachos, an entire pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream on top of my Great Aunt Sydney’s Cinnamon Chocolate Cake I’d make, and a lot of red wine to wash it all down.

After the sugar-fat overload, I crashed on Lydia’s sofa only to wake up around six in the morning, feeling generally miserable and guilt ridden.

 After struggling to button my jeans, I still subdued the taste of morning breath with three chocolate glazed Krispy Kreme donuts and a Venti Caffe Mocha.

And then I wondered out loud why I weighed so much.

“You don’t weigh that much,” Lydia scoffed when I brought up the subject of dieting. “You just have to change your eating habits,” and she stuffed half a Belgium Crème Donut in her mouth.

Spoken by someone who frequents the local Burger King so often, they actually know her by name in the drive thru.

  Now, sitting on my couch, the thought of the amount of food I’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours made me nauseous again.

  The thought of Adonis crossed my mind, which helped calm my mind but then I looked around the room and noticed a photo of me and my present boyfriend, Carl. Another wave of nausea hit me in the face.

He’s got to go and soon.

I glanced at the stack of gift cards to Barnes and Noble, Borders, Half-Priced Books and Starbucks my family had given me for Christmas.

"I didn't know what you liked." My mother said as she handed me an envelope. "But I know you like to read."

"I thought you'd dig this," Reese, one of younger brothers tossed me my card. "I know you like coffee."

"I'm giving you this card," my grandmother placed the envelope in my hand. "But I don't want you sitting at the bookstore all day drinking those fattening drinks. You need to watch yourself because if you make yourself too smart you'll never find a man."

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the gesture and the gifts, but it made me realize, my family didn't know me well enough to get an actual box wrapped gift. Kind of sad.

Lost in thought, I found myself standing in my kitchen with the refrigerator door open, looking for something to eat.

I slammed the door as I yelled, “I’m not even hungry.”

I backed against the counter and bumped the corner of the cake pan, half full of the chocolate cake from last night.

“Megan,” the cake called. “You just can’t leave me half eaten! What a waste of food.”

Robotically, I opened the cabinet to grab a plate and closed it again. “I don’t need that.” I pushed the cake away. “I don’t even want it.”

Burying my face in my hands, I sunk to the floor.

God, this is going to be hard. Why does change have to be so difficult? It's just food, right?

A knock on the door pulled me away from the lure of mindless eating.

Finally, Sam.

  “Here you are. Just what you requested.” She handed me a cup with some sort of smoothie and then planted herself on my couch.

  I sniffed it. “What is it? It smells like grass.” I removed the lid. “It’s green.”

  “Drink it. You’ll feel better from your carb fest hangover.”

  “How do you know what I had for dinner last night?”

  “Because it was a major holiday and I know what you and Lydia do on major holidays. Eat crap.” She took her coat off and looked around. “I bet you have half of that chocolate cake in your kitchen right now and you’re trying to figure out a way not to eat it.”

  “Right.”

  She jumped up and went into the kitchen. “Is Pot-Head home?”

  “Who?”

  Sam exited the kitchen with the cake pan in hand and headed to the front door. “Your neighbor. It’s about two, he should be getting up about now.”

  I could hear her knock on my neighbor’s door and a crash of what sounded like beer bottles and cans came from the apartment. I stood by Sam and waited for the door to open.

  “Dude?” Pothead’s voice groaned as he opened the door, only wearing shorts that barely covered him any higher than his hips. Putting his hand up to shield his bloodshot eyes from the afternoon sun he saw Sam. “Dude.”

  “Here.” She lifted the aluminum foil and handed him the cake. “Breakfast.”

  He immediately perked up, grabbed the pan, and plunged his fingers in the chocolate decadence, shoving a big wad in his mouth. “Dude!” He nodded at me and raised his hand as if to toast. “Dude.” Pothead turned and closed the door.

  She smiled at me. “So, now that’s out of your apartment and hopefully out of your head so you can’t glutton yourself on it anymore.” Sam ushered me back to my apartment and handed me the smoothie. “Alright, you didn’t ask me over here to chat. It’s time to spill it Meg and I know it’s something big.”

 (this is still awaiting final approval and is not final edit)