The Weight of Him(68)

“Remember, in here, red is go,” the producer said.

“Thanks, Mick,” Frank said.

“Thanks, Mick,” Billy said.

Mick gave Billy a thumbs-up before he disappeared behind the closed door.

“Here we go,” Frank said softly, three fingers in the air. “One.” His first finger dropped. “Two.” With his free hand, Frank reached for the switchboard, killing the music. “Good afternoon, and welcome to All the Talk.”

As Frank Galvin introduced him, Billy experienced that floating sensation, as though he were rising out of himself and drifting toward the ceiling, leaving his massive body behind. Frank’s voice grew fainter in Billy’s head. Billy fixed on the mute button, about to hit it and admit he couldn’t do this.

Then he was talking, answering Frank’s questions and telling listeners about his morbid obesity, sponsored diet, village march, and planned documentary. He rushed to tell them about Michael, the boy’s smile, his love of music and football, and the story about the stray dog.

He also shared how much he looked forward to losing all two hundred pounds, half of himself, and to one day getting to wear Michael’s favorite sweatshirt. How he especially longed for the time when someone would come up to him and say, Because of you, because of your son, Michael, I didn’t kill myself.

The switchboard lit up. Caller after caller shared how they’d lost a loved one to suicide. How they, too, never saw it coming. Thank you, they told him, something major needs to be done.

On his way home, Lisa phoned. “You were brilliant, well done.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Seriously, I can’t say it enough. You were amazing.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry I ever doubted any of it.”

It took him a moment to be able to speak. “That’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m so proud of you, well, well done.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“You’re welcome, Will.” They laughed.

Denis also phoned. “You’re doing it, man, you’re really affecting people. You’re making all the difference.”

“Thanks. Thanks so much.” Billy felt he would burst. He knew that feeling well. But never in a good way. Until now.

*

Tricia was sitting at the kitchen table when Billy arrived home, drinking coffee and kicking her crossed leg in time to the caffeinated beat of her heart. She pushed aside her coffee-stained mug and reached for a fresh stick of nicotine gum. She’d taken to rolling the silver foil wrappers into tiny balls and dropping them all over. He and the children would find them littered throughout the house, like a trail she was leaving.

“Well?” he said.

“Well, what?”

“Did you listen?”

“Yeah.” She rolled the silver ball of foil faster between her finger and thumb.

He felt a flash of irritation. If he had to pull it out of her, forget it. But he couldn’t stop himself. “What did you think?”

She looked up, the tears in her eyes making his chest constrict. “What you’re doing is great, it is.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she wiped at them hard. “But I hate it. I just hate it.”

He stepped toward her.

She raised her hands in a yield sign. “Please, I really want to be left alone right now.”

He hesitated, thinking maybe she wanted, needed, exactly the opposite.

Her hand pressed her chest. “Jesus, when I think back. I was hell-bent on getting married, couldn’t wait to get away from my family and start over.” She gave a small, harsh laugh, like glass cracking. “I had this crazy idea that everything would have to go better the second time around, that I’d never be that unlucky to wind up in another broken family, especially not with you. You never said it, but I knew you wanted the same things I did, another family, another chance.” She rubbed at her nose and eyes. “And you made me believe we would have that together. You lost all that weight and said I’d filled the empty feeling, said you were a changed man. But it didn’t last. We didn’t last. And now Michael is gone and I’m right back where I started, stuck with a wreck of a family.”

His throat felt glutted, full of words he wanted to say, but couldn’t. She thought their family was a wreck. Thought she was stuck. As he walked out the back door, she spoke again. “Just so you know, I’ll always be asking myself, too, what I should have done better.”

He continued out to the garage and into his other world, where he could right everything that needed fixing. Could let out the wail gathering in his chest.





Twenty-two

When Billy entered the bedroom, Tricia whirled around. “Jesus, you scared me. For a second there I thought…” With so much weight lost, seventy-nine pounds and counting, his and Michael’s resemblance was now striking.

“Sorry.” He felt oddly like a trespasser, still not back in their room, still pulled to Michael’s bed every night. A big part of him was waiting for Tricia to invite him back, unsure if she wanted him there.

“I wish we weren’t doing this today,” she said, moving to the wardrobe mirror and pulling her brittle hair into a bun.

He spoke to her gaunt face in the glass. “I tried, but there was no talking him out of it. I even said he could have his party at the pool and invite a few friends, but he wouldn’t give in.” Billy wondered if Ivor remembered Michael had celebrated his tenth birthday at Dublin Zoo and that’s why he was so insistent.