CLEANER II: Chapter One - Part Three

DAHLIA

Melissa found me in the darkest corner of the hotel restaurant. I already had an open bottle of white wine and two glasses, one of which was almost emptied.

I’d found myself gabbling it down as I waited for her, feeling more like I was about to be interviewed by some hard-nosed back-stabbing journalist than that I was waiting to eat with a trusted friend.

She seemed over-polite as she took her seat and raised a menu and I realised immediately why.

We had never been equals before – not really – not in a supposedly relaxed environment like this, which was of course outside of her relatively poverty-stricken comfort zone. Neither one of us knew quite how to talk or act, but then, that was the point of this meal and the drinks afterward: to lay down some ground rules that we could work to.

I picked up my own menu and scanned down it. “What are you going to have?”

“Steak,” replied Melissa. “You can always trust a good steak.”

I raised my eyebrows over the top of the menu playfully. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Uh... Oh.” She looked again at the menu. “Salad?”

I smiled. “Much better. I’ll have the steak.”

We looked at each other in a frozen moment then burst out laughing. “Make it a mixed grill,” she said. “If you really want to pile on the pounds.”

I giggled, trying to see if they did one and smiled too when I saw that they did.

Pile on the pounds. I thought about that concept, visualising it.

The waiter came and we put in our order, looking at me with a perplexed crinkle in his eyes when he heard what we were having, double checking he didn’t have it the wrong way round. We assured him he didn’t. The fat woman was having the salad. The slim woman was eating the fat food.

Still vaguely uncomfortable, we made small talk about the plane ride while we both set off down the wine bottle, Melissa doing her best to catch up with me. Nearing the bottom of my second glass I started to let go of that tension that had been tickling me. Melissa too was loosening up, getting a bit more expressive in her words and gestures.

When the food came I gazed, thunderstruck, at my plate. I’d asked for the extra large mixed grill and it had the proportions of a dinosaur. I’d never seen so much meat in one place. I’d never had a plate this size. Each of the five different types of meat; gammon, steak, chicken, sausage, black pudding; was a generous enough portion to satisfy any normal woman. All together and with the steak cut chips and the peas, mushroom and onion rings, it was diabolical.

Pile on the pounds.

I looked at Melissa; at her sparkling eyes and mirthful expression, returning my gaze and glancing down at what I had before me. Her bosom was generous, her arms bulging and round. Her face was very fat with a great hanging circle of flesh.

Was I doing the right thing?

I reached for my knife and fork but hesitated, curled fingers poised above them.

“Eat up,” said Melissa. “It’ll go cold. You have to hurry with a mixed grill and gobble it down; the faster the better.”

I smiled shyly, picking up my cutlery.

“Hang on though,” she said. “You’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

She passed across the glass decanter it was stored in. “Mayonnaise. It really brings out the flavour.”

Up until this series of exchanges had begun I’d never touched mayonnaise but now all I could think was that she was right. It really enhanced the flavour of whatever it was added to.

I gave myself a bountiful portion and tucked in, loving the taste and the sense of liberty I got to be consuming such a truly inappropriate meal; going against a lifetime of conditioning and principles.

Melissa didn’t look too thrilled by her salad but once she got going the initial scowl diminished.

We didn’t talk much. We just ate. And ate. And ate. Melissa finished hers but I kept going; flagging at times and then soldiering on. I knew that I'd had enough but eating more was becoming a compulsion, an overpowering desire to chomp and chomp and chomp and chomp. I didn’t know what the feel was it incited in me but it was like a chill wind whipping at my soul filled with excitement and abandon; maybe the tiniest bit of gloriously alluring self-destruction.

The deep heat the wine was imparting was making my limbs feel funny. I felt lovely; really contented.

We ordered a second bottle of wine as I polished off the last of my steak, feeling bloated as never before in my life but also extremely at ease.

I sat back, rubbing my tummy in a slow circular motion, relaxing into my chair. Melissa was watching me, smiling.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Nothing at all. It’s just...”

“What?”

“It’s nice to see you so happy.”

I smiled warmly at her. She was so sweet. Was I happy? Had I truly left my troubles behind?

Thinking that made them shudder below the surface of my mind, threatening to emerge to my consciousness. I almost came to picture my brother. But I pushed the thought away immediately. I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t feel I ever would be.

“Have some more wine,” said Melissa, “and let’s take a look at the dessert menu. Yes?”

I giggled. “Okay. Yes. Why not?”

“Why not indeed.”

She passed it across to me and I started to read down but after a moment I realised that Melissa was still watching me and I let it drop.

A long silence passed between us. Then she leaned forward a few inches and started the conversation we were both of us waiting for but that I had been too afraid to initiate.

“So what’s the plan?” she said.