Chapter 16


Ari had called, my mother told me after Mara had dropped me off from our day of belly-building and bonding on the beach. It was much sooner than I thought, especially since I'd only assigned him this seemingly impossible question just two days ago.

The thought of putting on a restrictive pair of jeans was total anathema, so I dug around for a pair of stretchies, pulling them over my stuffed and sunburned belly and realizing that even these things were pretty tight. Ari had suggested I come over right away and mentioned that he hadn't eaten dinner. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked. "Yeah, I have," I said, then adding, "but that was a while ago and I could go for something." "Cool, 'cause I'm STARVING!" he said. "Why don't you stop at Taco Beach and pick us up something. Tell 'em to put it on my tab." I agreed, and started thinking about what I'd order and wondering just what my limits were.

Driving over to the take-out place, I started thinking about him and wondering if every girl knows someone like Ari. He's the guy that a girl can confide in, the one whose shoulder is always available to absorb your tears, the one you'd call to pick you up when a date went horribly awry. He's the one who's always there, privy to all the silly secrets and the tampon talk and the bitch sessions. He's the one who's so familiar that it's easy to forget that he isn't a girl. And that's the whole problem with Ari: no one ever thinks of him as a guy or seriously entertains the thought of him in a romantic fashion. And Ari -- he's so shy and insecure that, despite his having gained entree into the women's circle, he convinces himself that the camaraderie is all he will ever know.

Ari and I first met in junior high when we worked at a summer camp together as CITs -- Counselors-In-Training. He was funny and smart and looked totally ridiculous in a bathing suit, with his bulgy cottage-cheese belly, his too-tight shorts, his absence of muscles. But his family had lots of money and he had an enormous swimming pool in his backyard which I made use of as frequently as possible, often dragging Jess along with me. She didn't like Ari too much, probably because she must've seen in his shyness and his inability to communicate any kind of sexuality with the opposite sex a reflection of herself. There were so many times that I had a date and I tried to fix Jess and Ari up just so the two of them wouldn't be sitting home alone, but Jess always refused and Ari always accepted it with his usual self-deprecation.

In high school, Ari and I pretty much put together the school newspaper and the yearbook by ourselves. He had this natural aptitude with computers and even though he didn't have an ounce of artistic ability in his sweet soul, he was able to make the paper look the way I wanted it to. And, when, at the end of senior year, I was despondent because I was sure I was going to have to go to summer school because I'd failed gym, Ari came to my rescue by getting into the school's computer system and changing my failure for the second quarter into a pass. I was totally amazed at his hacking ability, but he assured me that --even though he had plenty of equipment he wasn't supposed to have -- the thing with my grade had nothing to do with hacking. "I just sat down at the Guidance Department computer and guessed that Mrs. Goldstein would use one of her cats' names as her password. Then, Boom! I'm in. Gave myself a pass in gym, too!"

We talked a lot on the phone when we both went away to school, and one spring break, when I went down to Florida and stayed at my grandparents' house in Ft. Lauderdale, I managed to get down to Coral Gables where he was staying -- alone -- at the University of Miami, and I dragged him out into the incredible nightlife on South Beach. We were both totaly trashed and woke up the next morning naked together, nestled like little spoons in his dorm-room bed. I know that nothing happened other than a little drunken groping and kissing, since I had my period that night and was wearing a tampon, but I didn't tell him that. In fact, instead of jumping out of bed when I realized where I was, I stayed still and thought about it for a second, then wriggled my little butt into his crotch before rolling over and giving him a quick little morning-breath kiss and a great big "Mmmmmm... I had a lot of fun last night!" At the time, I thought I was being nice and compassionate, but I've often wondered whether he kicked himself for not being able to remember, or whether he even believed my story...

The menu board at the taco place spoke to me and roused me from my little reverie; I ordered a dozen tacos and four burritos and two orders of fries and told them it was going on Ari's tab -- a tab at a Taco place seemed weird, but the taco girl didn't miss a beat. When I pulled up, I saw that the cashier was someone I'd gone to high school with. She seemed a little embarrassed at first -- she'd been pretty and a cheerleader and all, but hadn't had too much else going for her -- but, she quickly regained her cattiness when she noticed the size of my belly and my order. "So," she said, "it's you and Ari, huh? And baby makes three. Even though you're eating for two, you should really watch your weight -- I've had two kids and you can't even tell. Haven't gained a pound since high school!"

Despite the wonderful mood I was in from the exhilarating events of the last few days I couldn't resist the urge to respond with bitchiness. "Wow," I said. "That's a great life achievement. And I'm sure your husband must be thrilled." She gave me an evil look, knowing that it was common knowledge that she wasn't married and that the fathers of her two children were each married to other women. "Well at least I haven't settled for some fat and lazy guy just because he's got money!" I drove off, feeling a little bad about how I'd picked on her and how she'd looked down on Ari, just the way everyone had in high school. Then I thought about how fat I must appear if she thought I was pregnant; glancing down at my swollen belly, I noticed the seatbelt. It always used to bug me because it would dig into my boob and then touch nothing but air before it joined the lap belt; now, however its journey was interrupted by the swell of my stomach. I reached under my t-shirt and felt the heat of my skin and the soft layer of blubber which had grown thicker over the past week-and-a-half.

Despite the prodigious quantities of food I'd already consumed that day, by the time I pulled into Ari's driveway, the smell of the tacos and burritos had actually stimulated some impossible hunger. The front door was locked, but he had given me the code for his keypad lock -- 0905. "That's easy for me to remember," I'd said when he'd told me. "It's my birthdate!" "I know," he said. "I never forget it either." I was punching the number in when his voice came over the intercom. "Hi, Mel! You look great on my TV here -- wave at the camera! C'mon upstairs; I'm in my apartment."

His parents had pretty much given up on him ever moving out -- not that they really wanted him to, anyway -- so they'd converted almost the entire second floor into an apartment for him. I was a little winded when I got to the top of the stairs -- the extra weight I was carrying was making its presence known -- and when he opened the door, he apologized for not having an elevator. "Let me take that," he said and I handed him the bag of food. "You look great!" he said. "Haven't seen you in like months! Christmas time, I think!" "Yes," I said, catching my breath, "and -- to get it right out in the open -- there's significantly more of me than there was at Christmas-time, so there's no need for politeness about how great I look!" "First off, Mel, I'm not one to talk about weight -- there's about 100 pounds more of me than when we were in high school, so..." He put his hands under the great gut he'd grown, which was poking out from under his too-short t-shirt and hefted it for emphasis. "And second of all -- it's not just politeness. You do look great -- happy and healthy and beautiful!"

I gave him a big hug, saying, "You were always my biggest fan." I felt his huge belly pressing into mine and my boobs squashing against his. "Okay," he said, "now can we eat? I'm starving!" "Me, too," I said and we dug in, filling our faces and catching up on the past six months. The first three tacos went down easy and so did the first burrito. By the time I was halfway through the fourth taco, I was getting flushed and even my stretchies felt a little constricting; when I stood up to grab my fifth taco, I was seeing stars in front of my eyes and I had to hold onto the chair to steady myself. "Are you okay?" Ari asked. "Yeah, I'm just being too much of a pig today. My appetite is much bigger than my belly." "Well, it's not like anything will go to waste if you don't keep up with me. I mean -- it's not a contest or anything."

"You're right," I said then plopped down into the recliner, and watched as he polished off the rest of the food, then leaned back in his recliner, lifted up his shirt and patted his massive furry stomach. "I don't think they've made an appetite that's bigger than this belly!" He paused for a second, then asked me, "Do you think it's gross how fat I've gotten? Is my body repulsive?" I got up out of my chair and walked across the room then kneeled next to where he was sitting and gently stroked the swollen expanse of flesh. "Actually," I said, "I think its kind of cute and sexy in a decadent sort of way."

He looked at me, smiled and shook his head a little, saying wistfully, "If you ever want to fall for someone just because of money, you know where I am." "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," I said, giving him a little tickle, then backing away quickly before he could grab and tickle me. "Now..." I said, "tell me what you found out for me." He took me into the computer room and I was impressed by all the lights and monitors and exposed wires and racks of equipment. "Wow! It looks like you could take over the entire world from here!" "Maybe," he said, "but I can certainly find my way into plenty of places I shouldn't be. Your question was kind of a challenge, though," he said, "but once I found my way into New Zealand's consulate's computer in New York, I had half the battle won.

"All the immigration info from the late seventies is on their national database -- earlier than that's a little sketchy, but, you were only looking for 1979 or so. Anyway, I checked the records, and sure enough, there's a young woman named 'Missy Something-With-A-Lot-Of-Vowels' who came into the country from one of the Polynesian islands to be a domestic for the Sansome family. She was dismissed from her position about a year later and left the country. I checked with her native country's computers -- pretty primitive -- and got nowhere, so then, I thought, well, maybe she got another position. So, I checked her name all through New Zealand's systems and just when I'd about given up, I found a record of her marriage! And -- Surprise, surprise! -- she's married to Andrew Sansome, the same family that'd brought her over the first time!"

He was busy pounding keys and moving the mouse, so he didn't see the way my face fell when he said that name. "Are you sure?" I asked. "Absolutely -- here, check it out. Name, address, driver's license number, etc." I could barely bring myself to look and I started to chide myself saying, What are you expecting? You met him twice, you went out with him once, you slept with him one night -- what are you expecting, marriage? And so what if he's married -- she's in New Zealand, anyway! My thoughts were so overpowering that it took me a second before I noticed the birthdate on his driver's license -- August 17, 1940. That was way too old! So I asked Ari to check something else out: kids. "Easy enough," he said, and then a moment later showed me a screen which said that there were no children from this marriage, but that there was a son from an earlier marriage, Andrew, Jr.! My fears drained away and I stood up behind Ari's chair and gave him a little shoulder rub while he continued describing to me his research.

"Once I had her married name, everything was a piece of cake -- they keep plenty of official info on their people in New Zealand, and she's been in the papers a couple of times, too." "Really?" I asked. "What for?" "Well, get this -- at one time, she'd weighed over 500 pounds, and was on all their talk shows and everything because she came up with this diet and managed to get herself down to 105! It was pretty faddish and everything, but she sold thousands and thousands of copies of her book in NZ and in Australia, too. It eventually stopped selling when people realized that it didn't work too well, but she'd already made lots of money. Then, there's nothing about her until late last year -- not in the papers, but in her health records. Seems she went into the hospital emergency room with appendicitis -- which is serious but pretty routine -- except when the patient weighs 440 pounds! Then, after surgery, she comes back into the health system for a checkup six months later, and the doctor weighs her at 522 pounds! The doctor says, 'Extreme obesity not due to organic causes, rather to vastly excessive consumption of food.' And I think I eat a lot!"

Andy probably has no idea, I realized, and I wondered how he would react if I told him and if I should tell him at all. Ari interrupted my thoughts by saying, "Okay, I've been your faithful servant, violated hundreds of laws to bring you this info, so now are you going to tell me why you're so interested in an enormous Polynesian woman living on the other side of the globe?" "Because I think I'm going to become her," I said, smiling.

He looked at me pretty strangely, then said, "Mel, you've put on a couple of pounds. Don't get so down on yourself. You still look great. You're not even close to 200 pounds, let alone 500! What makes you think this is going to hapen to you?" "Because I think I want it to," I said, almost to myself as I dreamily rubbed my swollen belly. "I think I'm going to enjoy it!"