The Lighter Side of Large (29 page)

“Never mind,” Riyaan rolls his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question, Bella: how’d it go?”

I look up from my low-fat mocacchino, a swirl of cream and chocolate floating on top, and shrug.

“That’s it? A shrug?” Riyaan prods. “What happened?”

“Yeah, how’d it go with Jacob?” Sands asks.

“Jacob? What happened to Jae?” asks Riyaan.

Again, I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him in two weeks.”

“Oh, girl, you’ve been dumped,” Riyaan bends down and gives me a side hug. “Never mind him. Tell me about Jacob.”

“There is no Jacob,” I say.

“Sands says there is,” says Cat.

“There’s not.”

“Did you get his number?” asks Sands.

“So there is a Jacob,” says Riyaan.

“You should call him if you got his number,” adds Sands.

“Why would I do that?” I ask her.

“Especially if he doesn’t exist,” mutters Cat.

“He does exist,” I begin to explain.

“You just said he didn’t,” Riyaan reminds me.

“And you all think I’m the crazy one,” Cat says.

“Did you get his number?” Sands repeats. “Because you shouldn’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

Something in the tone of her voice makes me pay attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything,” Sands fidgets. “But on my way over here - so did you get Jacob’s number or not?”

“Sands, what happened on the way over here?” I demand.

“If she’s smart, she got a shot of penicillin,” Cat puts in.

Sands ignores Cat’s jibe. “I saw Jae.”

My heart leaps and falls just as fast. “And?”

Sands grows more uncomfortable. “He was talking with some chick.”

I feign disinterest. “So? It’s a free country. He can talk to whomever he wants to.”
Hopefully it’s a co-worker or someone ugly.

“Yes, but,” Sands continues, “they were standing pretty close and when they parted, they hugged for a long time and she kissed him on the cheek.”

My heart falls somewhere around my feet. “Could be his sister. Does he have a sister?” Riyaan asks hopefully.

“His family’s on the North Island” I say glumly. “A hug and a peck on the cheek don’t have to mean anything.”

“It was a
really
long hug,” Sands reiterates.

“What did she look like?” asks Riyaan.

“Like a model. Tall, gorgeous auburn hair...”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” I say, putting my hands over my ears.

“Maybe she is a model,” Sands suggests. “Bella, you said he worked with models, so maybe she’s an old friend or she’s modeled for him. But in a nice way, of course. With her clothes on.”

“But is she the reason he hasn’t called our Bella?” Riyaan asks.

“Can we talk about something else?” I plead.

Silence falls on table number nine at Café Crave.

“Okay, obviously not,” I continue. “Let’s face it: I’m obviously not that into Jae if I kiss two other men just days after kissing him.”

“
Who did you kiss?
” Sands, Riyaan, and Cat ask in unison.

Crap.
“Well, Jacob for one…”

“So there is a Jacob,” says Riyaan.

“Was he a good kisser?” asks Sands.

“Jacob I have loved,” quotes Cat.

“And Mika,” I finish.

Shrieking erupts at table number nine at Café Crave.

“Are you insane?” asks Sands.

“It was an accident,” I protest.

“Kissing is never an accident,” Riyaan disagrees.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Sands wails. “Mika? For Pete’s sake,
Mika
? When you have such a good thing going with Jae?”

“What good thing?” I wail back. “He hasn’t called and you’ve seen him with another woman. Sound familiar? He’s moved on, just like Mika did.” And the thought makes me miserable. “Which is probably for the best, seeing as I just hand out kisses to whoever wants one. What is wrong with me? Am I that desperate? It’s like you said before, Sands: I opened my legs for a hug. I did before I lost weight and I’m still doing it now that I have lost weight. Seriously, what is wrong with me?”

“Respect,” replies Cat.

“Huh?” I ask.

“You have no self-respect. Get some and you won’t act out of selfishness.”

“Did you just say I’m selfish?” I ask, puzzled.

Cat continues. “You’re out to get what you can for yourself out of fear that you still won’t get a man.”

“Go on,” I say.

“You’re giving out kisses to any guy who wants to pucker up rather than having enough self-esteem to pick and choose. Whereas before you had no self-esteem and all you received was negative attention and you feared not getting a man, now, you’re finally getting some positive attention yet you still fear that you’re going to miss out, so you give more of yourself than is necessary - or healthy. You don’t want to end up like Sands, sleeping with every man in Nelson except for Riyaan, so besides working out at the gym, work on exercising some self-respect.”

We sit in stunned silence. “That makes sense,” Riyaan says in awe.

I mull it over. “Yeah, you’re right, Cat. How’d you learn so much?”

Cat studies her coffee and retreats into her usual taciturn self.

“So,” says Sands slowly, “no Jacob? What about Jae?”

“What about Jae?” I ask.

“Are you giving up on him out of self-respect, or will you fight for him out of self-respect?”

“Why does there have to be a fight?” I ask. “Why can’t relationships be simple?”

“Because they involve people,” Riyaan adds.

I chew on a nail and think. “I don’t feel very self-respectable fighting to keep a man who doesn’t want me in the first place. So, yes, I’m giving up on him.”
So why is there a huge knot in my stomach?
“I’m not some clingy stalker. If he doesn’t know what a good thing he’s got, then good riddance.”

“Good for you,” says Riyaan.

•

ShyNSweet: So why don’t I feel good about giving up on him?

RoMANce: You must really like this guy.

ShyNSweet: Yes. He’s everything I wish my ex had been and more. But obviously I’m not enough for him.

RoMANce: Forget about him. You deserve better. Like your friend said, have some self-respect.

ShyNSweet: I just don’t understand men. Maybe you can write a book explaining men to women to give us the advantage. LOL

RoMANce: Shortest book in the world: Men want food, sports and sex. Order changes depending on their mood. The End.

ShyNSweet: No, no, say it isn’t so! Don’t guys care about romance? Guess I was born in the wrong century.

RoMANce: ?

ShyNSweet: In the olden days, men courted women and followed certain social decorum when interacting. It all seems very romantic in stories. Your screen name indicates you must think highly of romance. Or are you just trying to get a girl? Ha ha!

RoMANce: Romance is important for some guys. I happen to be one of them. Speaking of social decorum, is it appropriate to be conversing with a man you’ve never seen? LOL

ShyNSweet: UR right. This is goodbye. JK

RoMANce: You think you’re so cute.

ShyNSweet: You know it, baby. You’ve seen my before and after photos. A few more weeks/months and I’ll be looking even better.

RoMANce: Good luck on your surgery, btw

ShyNSweet: Thanks. Will keep you posted on it. Couple more hours until the dreaded engagement party.

RoMANCe: Still going all by your lonesome?

ShyNSweet: Yup. No more date, so what else can I do?

RoMANce: Hope it goes well. Knock ‘em dead. Can’t wait to read your blog about it.

ShyNSweet: Chat with you soon. Have a great night. I hope I do.

•

Irony of all ironies, Mika and Tiresa’s engagement party is being held at their home, my old home, the very place I was kicked out of five years ago.
Did Tiresa want the party here just to rub it in my face?
One never knew with her. On the other hand, she might just want to show off to everyone what a nice place they have. It is a far cry from Mama Rose’s humble house.

The large circular drive and streets are lined with cars. “How many people do they know?” I ask aloud.

“Well, they are business people,” Dad replies. I picked him up, since he is now back in Tiresa’s good graces.

I take a closer look at Dad. “Are you feeling all right? You look pale.”

“I feel great. I’m fine,” he insists.

I remain doubtful. “If you get tired, we’ll leave early. I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” he says again. “Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

The last time Dad was here, he helped me pack and move. Now he returns with a smile on his face. I feel as low as I did when I left.

I have to park two blocks away and as we get out of the car, my cell phone rings. My bunch of keys drops to the pavement as I scavenge my purse for my phone. On the third ring, I grab it, but a glance at the screen makes me pause from answering. It’s Jae.

A wave of relief followed by a rush of anger flows over me.
Now he calls? At least he acknowledges that I’m alive, but it’s a little late for apologies and excuses.
The phone rings once more and then cuts off with a cut to my heart. I’m in such a precarious emotional state that I know I’d start crying if I had answered it, which makes me realise how much I really like him. So much so that I simply can’t bear to hear him say goodbye, for why else is he calling? S
orry I haven’t called. Been busy with Go 4 It, met someone else.
I drop the phone back into my purse and bend down to retrieve my keys. Jae is gentleman enough to call to say goodbye instead of just leaving me hanging. But I don’t know which is worse.

I take Pa’s arm and together we walk down the street and up the driveway to the party. A muffled buzzing tells me Jae has left a message, but I ignore it. This evening will be hard enough without his sweet voice ringing in my ears.
Goodbye.

Upbeat music thumps through the front door. “Should we knock?” I ask. It feels silly, asking to knock on what used to be my front door, but before Dad can reply, pounding footsteps race from the other side of the door, it flings wide and Abe and Fi appear, shrieking with delight. “Dad! Mummy!”

“Give your grandpa a hug,” Dad says, stepping inside. I follow, shutting the door behind us. The house is filled with people, music, and the scent of food. Draped across the high ceiling are white fairy lights, while above the fireplace a banner spreads out the message, “Congratulations Mika and Tiresa.” It is my old house, but no longer my home. It was as if I never existed in it.

The décor is different - colder, minimalist, upscale. Of course it isn’t the same as when I was last here five years ago, but the memories of the house that it used to be live in my heart and mind, now clashing with the house that is.

“Come see the cake!” says Fi, pulling on Pa’s hand. Three steps later, Mika breaks through a group of people chatting near the kitchen bar and approaches us, beer bottle in hand.

“Sir, Bella, how are you?” he shakes Pa’s hand, speaking loudly over the music. “So glad you could come. Bella, you look fantastic.”

“Frank,” Tiresa’s says as she appears out of nowhere and gives Dad a hug. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course I wouldn’t miss it,” Dad says cheerfully. “You look beautiful. Now where’s this cake?” he asks and Fi and Abe drag him along, leaving Mika, Tiresa and me an awkward trio, standing in silence.