i am angry but i did not refuse to go. i am angry and in the past i would have gone to the phone and canceled the baby sitter. i am angry that she has questions, that she wants to know as if i am untrustworthy. there is a clock on the wall, we have thirty minutes before we have to leave. i go silent, i shake my head from side to side. she is wearing her purple blouse and dark denim pants, each clinging to her, accenting the body. she is young, thin and at the moment receiving the silent treatment.
she appears at the shower curtain trying to make peace. she says that she get's worried. she says that 'i really look forward to our lunchtime conversations. i am home bound with the kids and so the only contact i get form adults, during the day, comes from that time. i am sorry if you felt like i accused you, but i get worried. please let's just pretend it didn't happen.'
she says all that leaning against the wall. she says all that and still i boil. i am quiet. i breathe 'ok' and begin to towel off. we kiss as i dry. she leans her head against my naked chest. the aroma from her hair fills my nostrils.
still i sand on defense.
the baby sitter arrives. there is silence in the car as we move towards that meeting. there is silence in the night air as we move towards the meeting room. there is a space, however infinitesimal, that has arrived between us. it is cold, the space, cold, lonely and bringing with it the fear of growth.
there are celebrations and conversations, but we are quiet. there are shouts of joy at the scale. there is the lecture about fighting through the wall. there is the conversation of support. there are here deep brown eyes, rubied lips and mountain of a body turning towards us fresh from a five pound loss. i am not sure how to feel.
'no scale tonight, huh?' she says standing between my wife and i.
'nah, just don't feel it this week.'
'well just keep working at it, i guess,' she says and moves with her husband towards the door.
'that was nice,' she says but i understand the true meaning.
i nod. i know she wonders why. she is thinking. i will refuse to show my hand. i will refuse the scale i will refuse the diet i will stare at the new wound, the new space between us. like a sore in ones mouth i will tongue it, put pressure the twinge of pain not welcomed but continually tested for it's presence. she will not go to the scale. we sit together. we stand together. we move towards the car and head home together. in the dark and the silence of the road she will try again.
'that danielle keeps losing, huh?'
she wants me to explode. she wants me to cry foul and a cheat so that she can join the chorus. so that we can come back together. reunite the team over the common enemy and frustrations. the urge is there. the words on the tip of my tongue. how i want to crush that mountain of a woman. how i want to tell of her diet pills and secret eatings. i know she will act offended, she will want to punch her in the face, she will understand my faults and failures but celebrate my strength. i know she will say, 'see how great and strong you are? you won't take a short cut, you will fight for your body and dreams. you are willing to struggle and fail only to get up again and keep trying. i am proud of you, i love you.'
we would talk, cry and eventually make love. i won't give into this now. i am hungry. i am lost being led farther away by hunger pangs. i can hear the search part, i can see the flashlights up ahead, but i am not ready to be found.
so we are silent. so we pay the baby sitter. so we undress and redress. so we lay in the dark as i stare at the ceiling my stomach rumbles and i do not go to the kitchen i do not reach for her hand.
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