Philip stepped next to her, carefully dabbed her cheeks with a tissue and lightly stroked her back, saying softly: “I regret that most because it’s so awfully wrong. You only have one thing in common with my mother – you both told me what you think I should do. But while my mother put unbearable pressure on me to change ….,” he swallowed very hard, unable to finish his sentence, before he inhaled and continued: “You’ve only been incredibly loving, tolerant, supportive and patient; I cannot tell you how patient you’ve been. Everything you did, bought, made me do was nothing but good for me. You encouraged me to live a normal life being as big and fat as I am… in some ways, I’m much more near-sighted than you are, because I refused to see that. All I hope for is you have some of that tolerance, support, love and patience left for me.”
Not knowing what to say, Antonia started cutting the fresh mushrooms into their marinade before she set to cleaning and washing the salad. Philip’s massive physical presence next to her was making her uneasy, so she gently asked: “Would you mind sitting down at the table? The counter here is a tight fit, I’m afraid of spilling something all over you.”
Continuing to stir the risotto while washing and arranging the salad, she glanced over at Philip fleetingly every now and then. Despite him being as heavy and handsome as ever, she observed a few subtle differences that appealed to and cautioned her simultaneously: His increased girth wrapped itself thickly around him, the big mounded belly pushed his legs apart – new was that he leaned back instead of hunching over, his powerful shoulders in line with his thick thighs, making him look broader, adding an air of command to his appearance, while he as accustomed let his elegant fingers dance over the table. He no longer seemed like the plump cuddly teddy she had fallen in love with, this was more a big strong bear, biding his time to catch her with a strike of his paw like a hapless trout. Corresponding was the unfamiliar line of determination in his chubby jaw and the challenging spark in the usual eager, adoring look in his green eyes.
To end the uncomfortable silence, with only the background noise of running water and blubbering risotto, she asked: “You mentioned you met Heather, what did she say?”
“She said two things – one of them brought me here today. First she said what she had told me several times already: That it’s my job to find out how I can be comfortable with myself, how I can handle being fat. That nobody can do that for me, not even you and that it was long overdue I tackled that.” Philip interrupted himself by drinking some water and eating three olives. “Second she told me that you still love me, I better hurry up getting back to you, prove to you that I’m working on my issues, as she says. She’s never seen you love any other guy as much as me, invest so much – I must make the most of that before it’s gone.”
“Tattle tale,” Antonia muttered indignantly. “So much for best friends! What makes her come to the conclusion I might still love you?”
“Heather said you refused to talk about me. She said that only happened when something was very important and sensitive for you, when you were not over someone or an incident yet.” Antonia felt her cheeks burn and furiously grated parmesan before frying the small cubes of seasoned ham and sprinkling them over the salad she placed before Philip.
“Would you like some white wine with lunch?”
Philip shook his head slowly, inhaled, and then said in a small voice: “I want to be honest with you Toni. It’s the only way things will hopefully work between us again. You asked whether I had anything to drink because I can talk about my weight and such…. well I didn’t. But I did take one of these light anti-anxiety pills Solange prescribed for days like these. They’re supposed to help keep my stress level manageable when I have to face situations, topics, words I dread – let me stay calm enough to think rationally, not overreact in physical panic. They’re part of the initial phase of the therapy; to see some progress before we move on to other, non pharmaceutical methods of stress relief. It’s considered unsafe to have alcohol with them, so I’m staying off drink.”
“Okay. But I poured a shot of wine into the risotto, is that a problem?”
“No, of course not. That’s very little and it’s cooked.”
Antonia leaned her head against the kitchen cupboard, closed her eyes and gulped silently. Philip’s confession made her awash with two wildly conflicting emotions. His words had sent burning hot love and pity flooding over her, knowing if she turned around now, looked at him, the next thing would be she’d be back in his arms, hugging and kissing him, telling him she loved him and would do anything to make his therapy work, make him and her happy. On the other hand, the idea of a serious, medicated therapy intimidated her because she had little confidence in her abilities at handling such a situation, icy fear trickling down into her stomach. She knew she was good, caring and supportive with normal everyday problems, but she felt awkward and incompetent around real medical issues, had always left these to her little sister.
Noticing she had been manically stirring the parmesan into the risotto, she quickly added the radicchio with a final few turns and then gave Philip a plate, who had already eaten over half his salad. “Mmmmh, delicious as always, nobody makes as good a risotto as you do, I never order it in restaurants anymore because I’m disappointed every time,” he rolled his eyes and quickly spooned down a few big bites.
“Thank you,” Antonia murmured and tried to get her constricted throat to swallow a spoonful herself. “And thank you for being so open and telling me this. It’s very brave of you.”
“Don’t know whether brave is the right word,” he shrugged. “It’s more a mixture of desperation and determination.”
“Desperation and determination? In which sense?”
“You breaking up with me left me pretty much in despair, can’t you imagine that?” he looked at her openly while she couldn’t look back, just nodded, shrugged and blushed all in one. “Yet I was determined to get you back. You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, for once I couldn’t simply run away from a difficult situation because then I’d never get another chance. Even if it’s hopeless, I want to make a serious effort, not have to blame myself later for not at least trying. The only thing was I didn’t really know where to start.”
Philip finished off his plate of risotto at high speed. “Would you like a second helping? You don’t need to tell me anything if you don’t feel comfortable with it, I understand it’s difficult.”
“Thank you, more risotto is more than welcome. No, I want to tell you about … well … about what I’m working on so we might have a second, or is it a third chance. You always told me I should talk about everything. Solange says the same; she wants me to talk about myself. She put up with me writing down things because I couldn’t say them at first. We spent my entire tenth session practicing me saying: I am fat. It is okay that I am fat. It took me over half an hour to say the sentence straight for the first time.”
“Pauvre chéri, pauvre chéri,” Antonia murmured, stroking through his hair before sitting down.
“Do you know what – it’s easier for me talking to you than to Solange. You always listened so patiently, even to the things I couldn’t say. You’d hold me when you tried to make me talk, that made it seem so much safer. You’re the first person to ever give me the idea I might be not be a failure. There actually were days, like when we were together in Rome, or in Paris, or our last days in Florida when you made me forget that I’m an ‘Untermensch’ as you say in German because I’m fat. I was simply content to be myself and to be with you.”
“I tried to show you that you have every right and reason to feel good about yourself… seldom got the feeling with any success.”
“The thought was alien to me all my life. Growing up the only message was: Nothing is worth anything if you are fat – being thin is the only thing that matters. It was not only my parents, at school, doctors, society in general does not make growing up and living as a fat person an uplifting experience,” his voice was full of bitterness. “My mistake only was I had imbibed this belief so strongly, I couldn’t see beyond it, develop my own set of criteria for assessing a situation, something I’m normally good at when it isn’t about me. I let my mother’s paradigm guide and judge my life long after it no longer was adequate in any respect, except for making me feel miserable.”
In the meantime, Philip had finished his risotto and salad, while Antonia was still picking at hers. “Hey, you’re not eating; you should finish your risotto.”
“No, I’m fine, I had a late breakfast. Do you want to finish it, as well as my salad?” she indicated at the two small, barely touched portions.
“Hmmmmh, I never should, but I would like it. It’s my first meal of the day, it’s healthy, it tastes fabulous, so give it to me,” Philip sighed, and then smirked at her. “You know how much I weigh, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t … and I don’t need to know,” Antonia muttered blushing.
“Of course you do. Your calculation on my first day at ‘signC’, when you set Franck’s estimate in stone right in kilograms, was within the margin of statistical error. I actually thought you must be good with numbers at that point,” grinning at her fondly, making Antonia utter a muffled groan of embarrassment. “So, how much do I weigh today?” Philip leaned back comfortably, stuck out his belly and patted it, but Antonia shook her head, only briefly looking up. “Antonia, please, show me the only calculation you seem to be good at.”
To her surprise, his eyes were teasing so she mumbled: “About 20% more. Sizing is the only type of calculation I can handle.”
“Again within the margin of statistical error – I might be able to teach you numbers after all,” he patted his belly again. “That’s one thing you taught me, being fat is easier to bear if you regularly pat your belly, it’s soothing and calming, before you started doing it, I never dared. Despite that number, my first decision was I would no longer pursue weight loss surgery to win you back.”
“Why did you ever think that would help win me back?”
“As I said, that belief had determined my life until now. After you had scorned me for it and literally everybody I talked to about it said it was the wrong approach, Solange, Traudl, Jean-Luc, even Wouter…”
“You talked to Wouter about weight-loss surgery?” Antonia’s voice went high-pitched in surprise.
“Well, not directly. On the first Thursday I was in Antwerp with the band after you breaking up with me, I got drunk, I mean drunk. Wouter noticed something was wrong, he’s a good guy, all in all ….so hmmm… he got me to tell what happened. And I told him I was flying to Baltimore to research weight loss surgery to win you back. He shook his head that would be the measure least likely to win you back. Instead he said I should think about what you had said, what I should do, what would be good for me… follow that path.”
“Pewh, now I’m full,” Philip had cleaned Antonia’s plates; leaned back even further, rubbed the big curve of his tummy. “Do you maybe have an espresso?”
“Naturalmente. With a spoon of sugar and a shot of milk?”
“Yes please. After I sobered up, Wouter’s words set me thinking. Before starting a business you collect all information you can get regarding its success chances. Should all different sources you tap into – no matter under which aspects they study your case – tell you that your business will most likely fail, naming similar reasons, then it’s not worth starting it. Whoever I had talked to – my physicians here and in Britain, Traudl, you, Solange, Jean-Luc, Heather – everybody said I would most likely not get the desired results. In addition, I’ve never had surgery before – I’m afraid as shit of actually being operated on. So I gave up on the idea. It’s the first time I applied my business knowledge to my own life.”
He looked at her expectantly and she showed a small smile: “I’m honestly relieved to hear that. So you decided to go to Solange instead?”
“I made that decision a little before I saw you in the restaurant. I was totally at a loss what to do at that point in time. Then I met you and this Matteo … yah, and that made me go to Solange.”
A leaden silence followed in which Philip finished his espresso, took Antonia’s hands into his, lightly rubbing and kissing them. “Chopin misses you and the polar bear family so much. He refuses to sit anywhere in my flat except on my bed - and there only on your pillow.”
Tears started dropping out of Antonia’s eyes, making her blink hard and stare out the window, before she choked out: “What do you expect from me? It can’t be a good idea going through all this therapy because of me!”
“Toni chérie, it’s not only because of you. You and hopefully soon again us is only one reason I’m doing it. Where I come from, therapy is still not considered to be serious medical science; it’s something for wimps and at best women. Seeing how Saskia has been developing in a very positive way for herself, her career and ‘signC’ as a company has shown me that there might be more to it. Let me get you a tissue,” he got up and lumbered back from the bathroom with a box of tissues in his hand, rubbing Antonia’s back while she blew her nose. “I’m doing it for myself. I’m tired of feeling rotten all the time, of being afraid of everyday situations. I don’t know whether I’ll ever reach a normal weight, I mean, I’ve never been below 120 kgs in my adult life for long. But I finally would like to have a state of mind that corresponds to my actual circumstances.”
“Circumstances?”
“Well, you always told me I have a good life – I do, especially as long as you are part of it. You Americans have the right to the ‘pursuit of happiness’ – but for my old world self, happiness is too big a word. Your Kraut-part probably understands that better, since you Krauts are champions at having ‘Angst’ and being unhappy, genuinely reveling in those lousy feelings. So, simply being proportionately content would be good.”
“That’s a good goal,” Antonia sniffed and nodded. “Ja, Angst … that’s part of what I feel now. Angst … because I don’t know how to patch a relationship back up. Angst … I might not be able to help you in with your therapy, might do something wrong, not have the necessary patience. Angst…. we might have all the love, but no real trust in each other anymore – after all, I’ve run out on you twice. You’ve made me happier as well as unhappier than any other guy. You’re the most loving, considerate man I know – and at the same time you can be the most unapproachable and unreliable. It’s also Angst … that I can’t handle our emotional ups and downs anymore.”
“Toni, I know I’ve not done my part in our relationship – what I’m asking for is the chance to show you I can learn to do it. I can’t promise you miracles, all I can promise is I’ll try my very best,” he clasped his hands around hers. “I’ve seen couples get back together were much worse breaches of trust happened … be realistic, is there really that much mending necessary in our case? Don’t we still have enough of a common ground to concentrate on the future – like in any good business, where the prospects count?”
Antonia shrugged, shaking her head and nodding in small uncoordinated movements before murmuring: “This is a new idea for me, I was just trying hard to forget you. I need some time to think about it, maybe see how you manage with your therapy, how I might fit in. Please, give me some time.”
“Of course you can have some time. I came today because of what Heather had said – and because I’m leaving tomorrow for 10 days in Asia, business trip with Craig and the US colleagues to check several new manufacturer options.”
“Do you want me to take in Chopin while you’re gone?” this came out without thinking, making her blush.
“Is that a serious offer?” a sweet wondrous smile of surprise made the dimples appear in Philip’s round cheeks.
“Why not? Why should the poor kitty suffer because we’re at odds? I can do my business on day trips, come back from places like London and Düsseldorf in the evening, in that time period.” Antonia tried to sound as nonchalant and uninvolved as possible. “Would you like another espresso?”
“You’ll have a very happy cat here – and I’m very grateful. I’d prefer a cappuccino now, if that’s possible.”
“Sure. I’m sorry, I don’t have any real dessert, don’t make them for myself only. Do you want me to fix something? A plate of fruit?”
Philip shook his head. “I’m no longer trying to diet; Solange said therapy with medication would be stressful enough without a diet. That’s generally her approach, find ways to reduce unnecessary pressure, concentrate on relevant things. So two days ago – on her advice - I threw out my scale and all clothing that doesn’t fit me right now. After all - there is nothing easier in our business than getting new clothes – is there?”
Antonia grimaced and nodded, making Philip grin slightly. “Looks like you’re currently getting more samples than even you can handle. Solange also advised to play piano an hour a day, she said that probably was best for me; it would save us a lot of time and trouble finding new means to decompress further on. One part of the therapy naturally is learning to listen to what my body needs, eat three healthy meals a day until I’m full, satisfied, not stuffed – that does mean a lot of food, you know my appetite. Can we maybe go for cake, or so later, I loved that with you in the afternoons?”
“Here’s the cappuccino. Solange’s approach sounds very good and sensible. But what about your therapy if you’re gone for ten days now?”
“You don’t believe I’m serious?” he sighed wearily. “In the past three weeks, I’ve done the initial round of 20 therapy sessions. Normally that’s done in a clinic, but I couldn’t get away, also I’m done with clinics in this life. And I preferred Solange as a therapist. For my business trip I’m scheduled 5 telephone sessions with her as well as made sure I can play piano in every hotel for an hour at the bar. When I get back I’ll continue going twice a week for a minimum of six months, and then we’ll determine the interval to the end of the twelve month period. Is that good enough for you?”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be critical…. I do get the feeling you’re serious…”
“Toni – what’s really the problem? Do you already have another guy?” She shook her head violently, sending her pony-tail flying. “No, of course not, no!”
“You say that you still care for me, and our problems are solvable. Why do you worry so much about whether you’ll fit into my therapy? That’s borderline absurd - I know nobody better than you to help me. You’re the best eating therapist I’ve ever had. Remember last summer? When you were still at ‘signC’ and we were revising the strategy – shit, that seems centuries ago! You’d take care of our meals; I’d eat only the food you’d prepare since we had such long days. And it worked for me – you had such a fabulous variety of dishes, nice portions, I didn’t feel I needed anything else. I didn’t lose much weight, but I didn’t gain any either – and when I got to Alpsee on summer holiday, I had a very good blood test; Traudl praised my better eating habits. That’s one reason I was so shocked when you left ‘signC’ as I came back….”
Tears were welling up again in Antonia’s eyes, so she got up and started to clear the table, stack the dishes into the dishwasher, half muttering under her breath: “I never had the impression I was getting anywhere meaningful with my efforts to support you, make you feel good ….”
“I didn’t understand what was really good for me, what I needed. So I couldn’t show you how much everything you did means for me.” Philip sighed, once gain had the so familiar look of helpless discomfort in his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that! Don’t be so defeatist! Don’t think I’m not worried too this therapy will be another failure – that I’ll never be able to handle food half-way normally. I’ve always loved to eat, had a big appetite, here in Belgium I learned a lot about good food … but there’s also … well… food was always ‘bad’, made me fat, was forbidden… I’m absolutely f***ed up as far as that goes.”
“Philip, I think this therapy with Solange is a realistic and helpful approach, but as you said yourself, it’ll need time, patience, work, overcoming set-backs.” Antonia once again felt love and tenderness battling the fear of history repeating in her. “What makes me a bit uneasy is well … it’s so absolute again… it’s … how can I say … what’s your plan B?”
“Plan B?”
“Yes, plan B. You’re plan A is to go to therapy in combination with – if I understood you correctly – of us getting back together. But what if I say ‘no’ definitely, what do you do then, what’s the plan B for that situation?”
Looking shell-shocked, Philip had the expression she knew so well, the one he mostly had before he bolted out of the room. Now he stood in the middle of the kitchen, hung his head and took a few very deep breaths before he looked up at her uneasily. Yet the streak of determination in his jaw line was back as he shook his head: ‘I don’t have a plan B. I don’t want to need a plan B. I don’t know what I’ll do if you say no. I’d probably not stay here in Brussels. Maybe I would have the bariatric surgery done and then start over somewhere else, differently…. Are you just giving me the definite ‘no’?”
“No, no, no – that’s not what I meant,” Antonia couldn’t stop shaking her head. Philip yawned and rubbed his eyes to step behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, cradling her breasts from below, pressing himself against her so she leaned comfortably into his big pillow of a belly, resting his head on her shoulder, swaying her slightly in keeping his balance. Closing her eyes, she was overwhelmed by the customary feeling of being loved and protected, her body telling her it wanted to stay in this embrace forever. “There must be more to a relationship than perfect physical harmony, Philip! You know you can get me to jump out the window, do anything for you when you hold me like this… but that’s not enough as a foundation….”
“Solange seems to disagree with you – she was seriously shocked to hear we had no problems whatsoever with physical relations…”
“She was shocked we have sex?”
“Present tense?” Philip’s eyes lit up, while Antonia turned beet red and shook her head again. “No – when we talked about when I had felt comfortable with my body, she was extremely surprised it was often related to actual physical relations with you – she said this was very unusual, mostly that's the last step in developing a positive body image. But it showed that you must be a very loving, sensitive women; the ideal match for me. And that it increased my chances of developing an overall realistic self-image tremendously if this aspect did not need to be worked on.” He yawned again and leaned heavier on her.
“That’s all good and well, but we can’t spend our life together in bed. We have demanding stress full jobs, two households, diverging social lives, I have family on the other side of the Atlantic….,” Antonia twisted herself out of his embrace. “Maybe all these factors also got in our way, may not be the adequate fit for a relationship between us…”
“That’s part of plan A…” Philip tried to stifle another yawn.
“You’re pretty tired, aren’t you?”
“Ummmhugh, didn’t sleep very well in the past days, thinking too hard about what to tell you… and these pills do make me a bit sleepy…”
“I need to think about a few things you said in peace and quiet too. Why don’t you go take that nap in my bed while I bake us a cake? It’s still pouring outside, so no fun going out – and I have a new recipe for a Venetian apple cake with orange marmalade and Grand Marnier I want to try out.”
“Don’t bother Toni, that’s too much work. Or do you want me to help you? And I still have a few things we need to talk about… that was not all…”
“Let me first digest what you told me on my own,” she gently shoved him out of the kitchen into her bedroom, where she pulled out his set of bedding and quickly put on fresh cases. “You rest while I bake. Baking is therapeutic for me, like playing the piano for you. It’s creative, it’s a manual activity, but I can let my mind wander and sort itself out.”
He started to undress, shyly as always turning away from her. Wanting to respect his privacy, she went back towards the kitchen: “Philip, only one thing. Please give me the actual physical space and distance to think things through as long as I need to. Please don’t try to coerce cuddle me back to you, okay?”