Page 67 of Sparks
His face fell. “You need to eat that.”
Oh, geez. I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want anymore.”
“Why not?” He seemed personally offended.
“Silas, what is wrong with you?”
He opened his mouth to say something and closed it, rubbing his eyes. “You’re right. It’s not my business. Just my own personal issues.”
“What personal issues?”
He sighed, staring off as if contemplating. I watched his long, strong fingers tap the side of his cup before they stilled, and he began to talk.
“When I first met Jacquie she had a figure similar to yours. Slightly fuller.”
“What?” I laughed. “Jacquie had lovely lady lumps?”
He took a steadying breath. “God, what is wrong with women?”
“Sor-ree,” I said. “Keep going.”
“She had these thick thighs and bottom. I loved it. But of course, she hated it. Soon after we got engaged she began this severe workout and diet program so she could look perfect in her wedding gown. When she started to see results, she became obsessed with transforming her body. A friend of hers was doing swimsuit competitions and got her into it. It’s a whole lifestyle. Next came breast implants. Hair extensions. Yadda, yadda. I supported her because it’s what made her happy, but I have to admit I miss the softness. And it drives me crazy when she stands in front of the mirror and pinches her skin.” He rubbed his face. I had no idea what to say. Silas pulled out his phone and scrolled, then held it out to me. It was an older picture of a boy standing at the side of a river. He was preteen, dark hair, adorable smile, and chubby.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Me.”
My eyes shot up, surprised. He nodded to confirm, then put his phone away.
“You looked happy.”
“My mom posted that picture on her account about a year ago, and it freaked Jacquie out.”
I felt myself make a face. “What do you mean? Why?”
“Because I was overweight.”
I shook my head. “You were a kid.”
“Yes, but she saw it to mean that I’m predisposed to being heavy. After that she started to comment on my workout routine and things I ate.”
I scoffed, feeling seriously annoyed.
“And the thing is,” he said. “What bothers her most is that I refuse to obsess about my body. I work out to feel good. I eat what I want. Someday when I’m in my forties, maybe I’ll have a belly again.” He leaned back and shrugged. “That terrifies her.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. It sounded like he and his wife had a plethora of issues to work through. I guess that was the crux of marriage, though. Trying to get on the same page. But it would be hard if you felt like your partner didn’t accept you, or the possible future you.
“But enough about that. Tell me about your jarhead.” He said ‘jarhead’ like it was a bad word.
“Why don’t you like him?” I asked.
“It’s not about liking him or not liking him. I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
“Well, don’t be.” My stomach turned a little. I hated that I was in a situation that warranted a friend being worried about me. “They’ve broken up. The situation’s changing.”
He sniffed and looked away, staring at the passengers walking past as he thrummed his fingers on his cup again. I wished I could ease his mind. I wished I could ease my own mind.
An older couple walked in. The woman wore a hat with a fake lily on it, and she held the crook of her man’s arm as they shuffled slowly. I watched as he led her to the table behind us. He kissed her hand once she was seated, then moved in small steps to the counter for their drinks. For a moment my heart swelled in yearning. That right there was life goals. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to the older woman.
