Weightless (2 page)

To my relief, we left Richmond completely.
The last thing I needed was for poor Jack to see Christy sodding
Blake and think he was having a doppelganger moment on the
sidewalk. Though I still couldn’t believe we actually looked
alike.

The Christy I knew had cold blue eyes.
Cold-as-a-shark, dead-soul blue eyes. This detail was burned into
my memory because she never looked away when she tormented me. That
girl had not one ounce of shame in her.

My eyes were green. Dad said they were
beautiful, like cat’s eyes, but he had a parental duty of
kindness.

People can change a lot in ten years and
small details get forgotten or misremembered. So Jack didn’t seem
to notice the color change as we chatted all the way into Soho. I
was surprised when he pointed to his office on Soho Square. I’d
always pegged him as the City type.

‘You really work for Fox?’ I said as we
found a tiny corner table in the crowded pub nearby. ‘Oiling the
great wheels of Hollywood? Do you get to walk down the red carpet
and get papped falling out of nightclubs with your knickers
showing?’

He looked uncomfortable as he sipped his
winter ale. ‘I’m not an actor, or Paris Hilton, despite the tiny
dog I like to carry around in my gym bag.’ He saw my face.
‘Joking,’ he said as I laughed. ‘I don’t go to the gym.’

‘You don’t really have a-’

‘Dog? No. And I’m just a lowly marketer. I’m
the cog inside the cog
inside
the cog inside the great
wheels of Hollywood.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘I love it! What’s not to love about getting
to see new releases before everyone else?’

‘Are you the one who hires the cheesy
voiceover man?
One man, one banana, one unholy love story
,’
I intoned in my best radio announcer voice.

‘I wish I was, but they’re cheesed up before
I get my hands on them. We’re the ones who create the marketing for
Europe. It’s not glamorous but I work with a lot of nice people.
What about you? Did you stay in France after school?’

Uh oh. There was really no way to answer his
question without fibbing. A guilty pang made my stomach lurch. Was
this where I had to tell Jack the truth, and watch that friendly,
open smile fade as he realized we didn’t really have a history
together? I knew what would happen then. The easy banter we’d
shared all evening would dry up. It wouldn’t matter that it had
nothing to do with who we’d been ten years before. Then he’d
quickly finish his ale and make some excuse to leave.

I didn’t want that to happen. Not when we
were having so much fun.

I could, however, tell him the truth about
me. At least then it was just one omission rather than a series of
lies that he’d hate me for.

‘I went to university here. In Leeds. I’ve
been in England all along. How about you?’

He hesitated. Maybe when he said “school”,
he meant university. Christy probably kept in touch after she
moved, wrote him long letters that were definitely not postmarked
Leeds. I steeled myself for his next response.

‘I took a year out and then went to
Edinburgh,’ he said. ‘What a great city. Have you been?’

Relief flooded through me. Then I remembered
that it was only a momentary stay of execution. ‘I’ve been up for
the Fringe a few times,’ I said. ‘It is a great city. Did you
travel the world on your year off, just you and your backpack and
your little dog?’

‘Something like that, minus the dog and the
backpack. What are you doing now?’

I told him about my dietetics practice. Like
Jack, I loved my work. Unlike him, my job was about as far from
glamorous as you could get without cleaning motorway lavatories for
a living. ‘I’m really glad we ran into each other,’ I said as we
sipped our drinks. My tension was easing away with distance from
our old classmates. I was having a tremendous time, the kind of
time I’d dreamed of all through school. There was no harm in
carrying on the charade for a bit longer, just until I found a
natural way to introduce the fact that I was another person
altogether. No big deal.

‘I nearly didn’t go to the reunion,’ I said.
‘I didn’t-’

‘How could you even think about not going?
You were the most popular girl in school!’

I clamped my mouth shut on my next words. I
was about to tell him about not wanting to see the girls who’d
bullied me. Girls like Christy.
Must remember you are
Christy.
Obviously I’d make an excellent secret agent. Lips as
secure as Fort Knox, that’s me.

‘It’s fate,’ he continued. ‘I mean really,
what are the chances?’ He was staring into my eyes with a look that
I’d begun to recognize in the past few years, since losing seventy
pounds and gaining a social life. It wasn’t fate on Jack’s
mind.

‘Well, it was a gathering of former
classmates,’ I said, not daring to believe what I was seeing. ‘It
would have been more fateful if we’d run into each other randomly
in London.’

I hadn’t just had a crush on Jack in school.
I truly thought I could love him one day, if only he knew I was
alive. But I was about three miles below his radar, which was
ironic since in those days I was probably visible from space. So I
gathered bits of him wherever I could. His every utterance, and the
cloying, spicy scent of his AXE Fusion, were committed to memory. I
went to all his home football matches, even when it rained, even
when I was almost the only one standing there, sodden at the edge
of the hated playing field.

‘Well, fate or not, this is fantastic,’ he
said.

He was doing it again. Looking at me like I
was the last handful of Doritos in the bag. I nodded, not trusting
my voice.

‘Could I see you again, do you think?’

Again I nodded. I wondered how he felt about
muteness in a date. Wait a minute. Was he asking me on a date?!
‘I’d love that.’

Gently he leaned forward and put his warm
lips to mine. It was a deal with the Devil, sealed with a kiss. By
the time we traded cell numbers and said good night, I was floating
about six inches above the London sidewalk.

Chapter 3

Kate was waiting for me the next morning when
I arrived at my basement office. ‘You’re early,’ I said as I
unlocked the metal grill over the door and worked the keys into the
double deadbolts.

She shook her head, flashing the smile that
always lit up her face when she did dare to show it. ‘I’m not
early, you’re late. Have fun last night?’

I noted the hint of smugness in her
question. ‘I did, as it happens. Do you want a tea before we
start?’

‘Not that bramble that you call herbal
tea.’

I sighed. Being a dietician sometimes meant
leading horses to water and then fighting with them when they
refused to drink. ‘It’s not bramble. It’s milk thistle and
dandelion and it’s good for you. If you’d just give it a chance I
think you’d like it.’

‘Why don’t I run out for lattes
instead?’

‘You shouldn’t be drinking caffeine at your
age.’

‘I’m almost sixteen.’

‘Too young. If you don’t want herbal tea you
should at least drink water. I’ll get you a glass.’

‘I won’t drink it.’

‘I know.’ I poured her a glass anyway. I
used it to water the plants when she left.

Some of my clients made me feel like I was
really making a difference. They came with specific concerns and
worked hard to make the positive changes they needed. Then there
were clients like Kate. We’d been meeting for nearly a year and
every week was a struggle. Even though we liked each other
immensely, I questioned whether I was really earning my fee. Yes,
she now knew more about leafy green vegetables and trigger foods
than any fifteen-year old should, but I couldn’t break through her
shell to really make a difference. I’d broached the subject a
couple of times with her parents but, as was often the case with my
clients’ loved ones, they didn’t know what else to do. So they
continued to pay me and Kate continued to come. Sometimes I got the
feeling that they paid me to be her friend as much as anything
else.

‘How was your week?’ I asked, as I always
did.

She shrugged with the dismissive disdain
perfected by teens around the world.

‘Did you go to gym class this week?’ She
forged notes when she thought she could get away with it.

‘Yeah. Period excuse was last week. We’re
doing volleyball now.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘Well at least you’re pretty tall. How was
it?’

She fixed me with a look. ‘Ariadne reminded
everyone that I have the biggest chest in the class. My boobs
nearly hit my chin every time I went for the ball… You’re not
supposed to laugh you know. You’re a therapist.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m only smiling because I
remember what that was like. Why not get a sports bra? I use one
when I run. Believe me, nothing moves.’

‘Mmm. Maybe.’

I knew she wouldn’t though, because that
would involve asking her mother and
OMG
she’d rather
die
than do that. She wasn’t unusual in that regard. She
reminded me of myself at her age – overweight, bullied and unable
to see beyond her day-to-day struggle.

She had Ariadne to deal with. I’d had
Christy sodding Blake. We may have moved on a decade since I was in
school, but the bully’s tactics hadn’t. Trips in the corridor. Fake
love notes passed in class, nicknames coined in cruelty and adopted
by everyone. There seems to be a special place in the shriveled
hearts of tormenters for the overweight.

Not that I’d been Christy’s only target. Any
physical disadvantage was fair game. So I was in the same boat as
the girl with huge eyes (Ellen the Alien) and Stuttering Tom. The
mistake I made was one of appeasement. Instead of showing her up
for the shallow, mean cow that she was, I tried ingratiating
myself. That just made things worse.

‘Tell me about the reunion,’ she said.

‘We’re here to talk about you, not me.’

‘Come on, you know you want to.’

I couldn’t help but smile. ‘It was nice. I
ran into someone I haven’t seen since we left school.’

‘Does this someone have a penis?’

‘You’re too young to be thinking about
penises.’

‘Come on Ms. Markham, don’t be a prude. It
was a bloke, wasn’t it? See? Aren’t you glad I made you go?’

Actually I was. When I’d mentioned the
reunion as a cautionary tale in the course of one of our sessions,
Kate wouldn’t let it drop. Who was I to counsel her about standing
up to her bullies and putting her past behind her if I wasn’t
willing to do the same? She was right. Which was why I went last
night. ‘Yes, I’m glad I went. Now, how about asking your Mum about
that sports bra?’

By the end of the session I’d wrenched a
promise to talk to her mother, and a small sip of water, from Kate.
Sometimes my successes were measured in baby steps.

Chapter 4