The Weight of Him(65)

*

In the canteen, during the tea break, Billy filled Denis in on the lunch. “I tell you that salmon and salad tasted delicious. What’s more, I refused to take as much as a sliver of dessert. Adam Simon was all, ‘Come on, we’re celebrating!’”

Denis clapped his back. “Good for you, that’s brilliant. But I don’t like the sounds of this Adam Simon. Why would he try to sabotage you?”

“Ah, no, it wasn’t like that. He just got caught up in the moment. Speaking of which”—Billy was full, himself, of urgency and excitement over what needed to happen next—“it’s critical we find more subjects for the film.”

“Subjects?” Denis said, sounding a rare note of annoyance.

“Sorry, that’s the lingo Adam used.”

“I definitely don’t like him,” Denis said.

“He’s on our team now, so you better like him. He paid for lunch, too. That was a big relief.”

“Hmmm.”

“Stop that. You and Adam will be spending a lot of time together. You’re going to be a big part of this film, too.”

“I am?” Denis asked, brightening.

“Of course you are.”

“You’re my rock,” Billy added, feeling bad for his anger during the call from the restaurant toilet.

“I think there was something quare in that meal,” Denis said, making Billy chuckle. “So what’s next?” he asked.

“We need to put out a major call for sub—” Billy corrected himself. “For film participants. We’ll spread the word online and on the radio, really jump on this. It’ll be an opportunity to plug my weight-loss campaign, too, and appeal for more donations.”

“I can actually see a nerve jump in your cheek,” Denis said.

Billy felt it, too, right above his ever-sharpening jawline. The pulse of his own electricity. Never before had he felt so fired up. So fierce.





Twenty-one

Now that Ivor had mastered floating in the pool, it was time for him to try treading water.

“You ready?” Billy asked. Ivor nodded, looking nervous. Billy eased his left hand from beneath Ivor’s armpit. “How’s that? You want to keep going?”

Ivor nodded again, his teeth snagging his lower lip. Billy slowly removed his right hand, ready to catch the boy if needed. Ivor’s arms and legs moved madly inside the water, keeping him afloat.

“Look at you,” Billy said.

Ivor’s face lit up. “I’m doing it.”

They treaded water together, their arms and legs synchronized. “Wait till everyone hears about this,” Billy said. Ivor’s heartwarming expression deepened, a cross between how he looked when he beat Billy these evenings at chess, something else they’d taken to doing together, and how he looked whenever he saw baby animals.

After, as soon as Ivor disappeared into the toilet stall to dry off and get dressed, Billy stepped onto the scale. Three hundred and thirty-four pounds. He could hug the scale. Kiss it, too. He had lost a total of sixty-seven pounds. Seventy pounds was now within sight, as was seventy-five, and eighty, and on and on. He stepped off, smiling to himself, and moved into the toilet stall next to Ivor, to dry and dress himself.

Minutes later, as he left the stall, he saw Ivor step off the scale with a thud, his head down. Billy wrapped his arm around the boy’s fleshy shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Ivor’s head remained bowed. “I’m fat.”

Billy couldn’t tell the boy he wasn’t.

He couldn’t think of anything to say until they were on the way home. “So you’re fat,” he said. “That’s just one part of you. There’s a lot more to you, too. Besides, fat isn’t bad, son. It’s just a word. Like thin, tall, short. It shouldn’t be a put-down. Problem is, at my size, and with the way I need food, it’s not healthy.” He was talking to himself as much as Ivor.

Ivor didn’t respond. “Hey,” Billy said. “Are you listening to me?”

Ivor drew a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Billy’s thoughts jumped to their chess games, and his tiny kingdom in the garage. “We’re the king of ourselves, you and me. We’re not going to let anyone put us down, least of all ourselves, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Ivor said, nodding, smiling.

“Let me hear you say it,” Billy said.

“I’m the king of me,” Ivor said, his voice booming inside the car.

Billy laughed. “Now,” he said. “While we’re on important subjects, how are we going to celebrate your big birthday?”

Ivor grinned. “I don’t know.”

“Ten,” Billy said, shaking his head. “Double digits.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ivor said, giddy.

*

The day the Irish Independent published Billy’s profile, he drove to town first thing. He felt so frantic, he almost went to Caroline’s shop, to get the paper into his hands soonest, but he didn’t want to face her or anyone else he knew. Not yet. With a pang, he wondered how people would react. Word of the interview would spread like the bird flu, he knew that much. He caught himself. Here he was, worrying about what was being said about him, the very thing he had condemned Tricia and his parents for fretting about. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care. Still, he shivered.