Page 62 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

‘Paul, you absolutely have to come with me – I can’t go back there alone!’ I said as I cleared the table for his laptop.

‘Go to the gym? With all those sweaty, stinking, grunting, leotarded losers? You must be joking. I’ll sign up for dance classes with you, though.’

Dance classes with Paul was how I’d lost the weight the first time. But now I needed more. I needed a crash course, a crash diet and a crash helmet, because I was in for one helluva ride that would hopefully get things going once and for all. And I didn’t want to do it alone. Besides, wasn’t Paul my partner in crime?

‘I thought gay men liked the gym?’ I pressed, and he turned in his seat to look at me as I loaded the dishwasher.

‘That’s so biased! And politically incorrect.’

I shrugged. ‘I just thought you might like some eye candy, that’s all.’

He sat up. ‘Were there any good-looking guys?’

A swish of purple legwarmers and carbuncular sweaty faces flashed before me. ‘Uhm…’

‘Right. I’ll come toonelesson.’

‘Yay!’

‘Don’t get excited. One lesson means one.’

*

As it turned out, Renata came as well, only she really should have stayed at home, because all her cackling and making fun of the crazy outfits was distracting me while Mr. Clean (I still didn’t know his name) was explaining a new exercise.

‘Will you shut up?’ I hissed. ‘Go home if you’re not interested.’

‘Are you kidding me? And miss out on all this fun?’ she hissed back. ‘Just look at that woman and that Brazilian outfit. Is she for real?’

‘Can’t you be more respectful?’ I asked. ‘That’s just so mean.’

‘Erica?’ Mr. Clean called over the crowd who, like synchronized swimmers, turned all at the same time to look at me.

I swallowed, feeling two inches tall, an apology on my lips, when he said, ‘Erica, I need you to stay behind today.’

Everyone continued to stare at me and at the ragtag trio I was part of: the obviously gorgeous and gay man on my right, and the tattooed, big-boobed, big-mouthed Marxist on my left.

Great – all I needed was for everybody to notice me. I’d spent all my life trying to fit in and not stand out, and now everyone knew my name. So much for Athletics Anonymous. It was like high school all over again, only I’d never got into trouble back then.

‘See what you’ve done?’ I hissed again, hiding behind a red-headed bombshell in front of me as the music resumed and an even more complicated series of steps and jumps and lunges started.

Paul did his very best and looked very much the part while Renata was doubled over in the corner, holding her sides and guffawing her ass off at the pseudo-haka number.

‘That’s it,’ I snapped at her. ‘You’re out. Go home.’

‘Aah… I had so much fun, Erica. Thank you for inviting me.’

‘Actually, I didn’t. It was all Paul’s idea. Because he doesn’t know you as well as I do. He thought you’d actually be able to behave yourself.’

She giggled. ‘I’ll have to come back for another laugh,’ she said, drying her eyes as I rolled mine.

‘No, you won’t. Now go home and think about what you’ve done.’

But she just burst out laughing again while she collected her gear.

When the session was over, I waited for Mr. Clean to finish talking to someone.

‘You, ah, wanted to see me? Sorry about that, by the way.’

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