Less Than Whole

Stacey was a library assistant at the University Library. She’d been working there a lot longer than Ebon and showed him the ropes—the real ropes. She liked him, a lot, he could tell. If he wasn’t gay, he probably would have liked her back in the same way. She was pretty, but didn’t know it. She had medium-length hair that she dyed different colors all the time. She was also very short and slim. She dressed kind of punky, kind of slacker. It was a style that began to appeal to Ebon and he started imitating it in a more masculine fashion. It said: I don’t give a fuck what you think of me. He also liked that it required less thought and budget for clothes on his part. Ebon and Stacey were both good enough at their jobs to get away with dressing down at work.

Every Friday night, since they both worked the evening shift, they took their dinner break together. Stacey watched him eat. Ebon knew she watched him because he was her “eye candy.” She tended to pick at food and Ebon watched her pick, and he teased her for it. He also usually finished her dinner, too. Like Ebon, she smoked a lot, chewed gum and loved chocolate. She quickly became his best friend.

Walking back from dinner, Stacey said, “You’re getting a belly, handsome.”

“Nah,” he said. He drew out a pack of cigarettes and tossed one to her.

She lit hers and then his. “No, really.” She reached over and rubbed his belly. “See? Squishy.”

Ebon looked down. “Hmm, I guess so. Thanks ever so much for pointing it out.”

Stacey grinned. Her smile lit up the night. “I think it’s cute.”

“You would,” he frowned.

“You eat too much,” she said. She skipped forward and kicked a rock. Her short skirt flipped up and Ebon saw she was wearing pink panties. If only that did it for him!

“I eat because I’m hungry.” But that wasn’t true. He ate because he was empty and he knew it. He knew he was trying to fill up a bottomless hole.

“You still going out with Stephen later?”

Ebon puffed out a few smoke rings. The library appeared around the corner as they walked. “Yeah. Thank you for fixing me up with him. He’s very—“

“Hot?”

Ebon grinned. “You could say that. It’s weird. There was a time I wouldn’t have any trouble meeting guys. Now it’s just a lot of work.”

Stacey giggled.

“What?”

“Stephen said he heard about you.”

He frowned. “Heard what?”

“About the orgy, at your parent’s house, when you thought they were in Europe.”

He flushed pink and was glad it was getting dark out. “That story is totally blown out of proportion.”

“You used to be a real man-whore, huh?”

Ebon laughed. “You sure know how to make a guy feel good.”

“Yeah, well, when you’re a fag-hag it comes with the territory.”

Ebon smiled. “Finish your cigarette. You have to get back to work.”

“OK, boss. Thanks for dinner.”

She went into the library first. Ebon stayed outside, leaning against the chilly stone. He lit another cigarette and looked down at his body again.

It was true that his clothes had been feeling strange recently, like parts of his body he didn’t know he had were being held more snugly than usual. He had noticed it around his waistband, his thighs and his butt, but he’d not given it much thought. He realized that he had been in complete denial.

He was turning into a lard-ass.

He tried to decide what to do about it. He could start jogging every day, maybe cut back on what he ate. He tried to make a resolution about it then and there: to definitely decide to change his ways. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized that there were very few things that distracted him and made him feel OK anymore: smoking, eating and spending time with Stacey and Des. He wasn’t even sure if sex would help. It hadn’t with Dean Faraji and that had been the last person he’d fucked. He didn’t like feeling empty. He didn’t want to be fat, either.

A long ash fell off his cigarette and landed on his shoe. He kicked it off and headed into the library. He still didn’t know what to do by the end of his shift.

His nervousness made him smoke even more. He bought a king-sized bag of m & m’s and popped them into his mouth the whole car-ride home.

When he got home, he nearly called Stephen to cancel. Instead, he tore through his closet to find his most flattering outfit and posed in front of his mirror for nearly a half an hour until he was satisfied that he looked less fat. Then he got into his car again.

He put his hands on the wheel and gripped it tight, turned the key, and hoped for a good night.