The elevator, p.12
The Elevator, page 12
“Oh yeah? So then if you know it’s not healthy, why are you doing it?” Naomi was not going to let it go.
“Nao, I’ve told you so many times—I am not bulimic. I am not binging and purging. I just feel over full when we go out to eat. The portions are way too much!”
It took over a month of her constant nagging. She finally threatened to tell Tyler.
“It’s not like he will listen to you,” Aria said, trying to sound confident, even though her heart was banging against her chest. “You guys don’t even talk to each other.”
“He will have to listen. Ari. Do you want me to go that route?” Naomi was hard. “Listen, I am only trying to help here. But if you prefer to keep pretending nothing is wrong, then I will talk to Tyler.”
Aria knew it could happen and that there would be a blow-up. Naomi would accuse Tyler, who would be defensive, and a yelling match would follow. In the end, Aria would have to go home to face him. That would be the worst part. So she agreed to see the psychologist.
After the appointments were set up, Naomi pulled another condition out of the bag. She insisted that Aria tell her parents, which caused another argument.
“Come on, Nao, I already agreed to see a doctor. Now you want me to tell my parents that I am…um…well, I need some help with my eating habits? They really won’t understand.” Aria looked at the stern-faced Naomi, who sat in the driver’s seat of her car, which was parked in front of the hospital.
“You can’t even say it can you?” Naomi looked at her. “You are starting treatments for an eating disorder, Ari. Your parents need to know.”
Aria sighed and rolled the cuff of her sleeve. “You’re looking at it from a different perspective. Your father is a doctor, so he would understand. My mother would not fathom how throwing up could be a disorder. She would see it as behavioural—something I can just stop doing if it makes me sick.”
“And your father?”
“Oh, well he doesn’t get involved in things like this. And if he did, he wouldn’t understand either. My parents are different than yours.”
How could she tell Naomi that her parents limited her meals as a child? They didn’t want her to end up like Rupa, her father’s sister, who was overweight. Aria was actually intrigued by Rupa, whose belly hung over her pants yet who was never hesitant to hide her appetite, despite the obvious looks from the family. She showed up at dinner parties and filled her plate, twice, sometimes three times, and always commented on how good the food was. Some of the younger kids in the family would giggle and comment, while the adult women would look on with amusement, picking at the sparse food on their plates. Once she had to give the young cousins a dirty look for talking about how much the ‘fat cousin’ was eating.
Then one day in the grocery store, Rupa collapsed on the ground, close to the foot of an old woman who screamed and alerted the manager. A heart attack, the doctor said. It was quick. Later, Aria heard she was clutching a bag of soft cookies, and the thought made her smile.
Even before Rupa died, Aria’s father would often comment on her weight. “If yuh eat like that, you go end up like Rupa. Fat. She cyan’t even get a husband.”
Aria was never allowed seconds. Even when she wanted a second piece of the double chocolate cake her grandmother bought for her thirteenth birthday.
“One piece is enough. You go get too fat.” The cake was placed in the fridge and Aria sneaked downstairs that night and ate one more piece, being careful to slice it thin enough so no one would notice. She made the nightly trip downstairs for a few more days until the cake was almost gone.
“Who eat out the cake?” her mother said one day. “Aria? You eating dis cake?”
She lied. There was no other choice.
“No…maybe it was Anand.” Using her brother’s name was the easiest way out. He played soccer and her parents figured he would burn off the calories.
Naomi didn’t know about her parents’ rules about eating and Aria wasn’t about to tell her now. Who knew where that would lead! Psychology perhaps.
Naomi’s body relaxed and she leaned back in her seat. She had only met Aria’s parents once, at a Christmas party that Aria threw one year. Her parents stopped in quickly to drop off some cookies and say a quick hello to the guests. Aria’s mother gave Naomi a half smile and offered a meek greeting. Naomi could be intimidating with her polished, upper-crust style and high eyebrows. She was taller than most of the women in the room, which made it appear as if she were looking down on everyone else. It wasn’t ideal. The two made small talk, while Aria tensed and found an excuse to pull Naomi away to meet someone else.
Her mother never said much about Naomi after that, even though Aria dropped her name at every opportunity that could lift her image. Her father’s profession, the charity work, the fact that Naomi brought a case of wine to the party. Only once did her mother offer a comment. “She seem like a stuck up gyul. But she real skinny.”
So when Naomi threatened to tell Aria’s parents about the treatments for the disorder, there was little choice. In the end, Aria realized that her friend would not be in the room anyway, so the conversation with her mother, while she was doing dishes in the kitchen, was fairly simple.
“Mom, listen…um…I have to go to the doctor for some treatments. I’ve been…um…well, I’ve been having trouble keeping food down and been throwing up a lot….”
“Vomiting? You have de stomach flu?” her mother turned from the sink to look at her curiously.
“Um, no…I’m…um...just not feeling like eating or feeling too full and wanting to get the food out.”
“Making yuhself vomit?” Her mother had turned to face her at that point.
“Well, sometimes…”
“So what de docta go do about dat?”
“Well, the treatment is a healthy food plan and group therapy…”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted. “Yuh have to pay for that? Someone to tell you what to eat?”
Aria shook her head and her mother turned back to the sink and picked up a soapy dish. “So dat is why the boy leave you.” The comment was made under her breath but it hit Aria in the face like a slap. She said nothing and that was the end of the conversation about Tyler and the treatments. She assumed the information would be passed along to her father.
“What did she say?” Naomi asked as soon as Aria let her know that the deed had been done.
“I told her like you asked but she didn’t say too much.” Aria waited for judgement but it never came. Naomi said nothing and that was the end of the conversation regarding parents and their need to know about her life.
The memory faded and Aria realized she was standing in front of the sink, staring blankly into the mirror. Her eyes used to sit inside sunken holes in her face. Funny how she never noticed it at the time. It was a long time ago. She opened the faucet and let the cold water flow into her hands so she could drink. After brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face, she climbed into bed and picked up her phone. She opened the dating app, went directly to the preferences, and cancelled her subscription. It would expire in two days and she was not going to renew.
Snuggling under the covers, she fell asleep right away.
Fifteen
Miranda didn’t talk to him for most of the week. No texts, no discreet visits to his cubicle. When he passed her in the hallway, he got only a nod, sometimes a lift of the eyebrows when she was alone, but never any words and not even a smile. When she was with the CEO, her eyes flicked in Rob’s direction, but they were blank. He was a subordinate.
By Friday afternoon, he was feeling anxious. When they met last week, he spent some time explaining why they couldn’t continue as they were. But, somehow, he wasn’t convinced that she really understood what he was saying. She didn’t appear to be listening, as she rubbed his crotch with her foot and ordered more drinks. For some reason, it seemed too easy.
Rob thought for a moment and suddenly realized that Miranda was like Tanya in some ways. She wanted what she wanted and didn’t see ‘no’ as a rejection. She was also a power lawyer. She didn’t need coddling.
He looked at his phone. 3:12. Time for an afternoon coffee. The website project would keep him at work for a few more hours and he could use a jolt of caffeine.
The kitchen was empty when he entered and someone had put on a new pot of coffee. As he waited for the coffee to brew, he read the bulletin board. Employee announcements. Upgraded benefit portal. Lunchtime yoga schedule. He’d never tried yoga. Some of his buddies had met their girlfriends at a yoga class. Rob looked at the schedule and wondered if he should check it out. The classes were offered in the gym on the third floor of the building. It was likely that women from the other offices attended. Meeting a woman who enjoyed yoga over drinks was a pleasant thought. He scanned the schedule. Next Wednesday would likely work.
As he pictured himself doing tree pose in gym shorts the thought crossed his mind that maybe he needed to wear something more suitable. But what does a guy wear to do yoga? Suddenly he heard clicks. Like nails on slate, the sound echoed in his ears. He hesitated before turning.
Her eyes were glowing, like his mother’s cat when it hid in the bushes beside the backyard bird feeder and took out birds for fun. He involuntarily stepped one foot back and felt his stomach flip.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Her voice was smooth.
“Hi.” He let out a sigh and managed a half smile.
“Whatchya doing tonight? Meet for a drink?” She was almost whispering as she neared him, the clicks slower, methodical.
Rob looked directly at her and blinked for a moment. His gut was correct. “Oh, thanks but tonight isn’t good.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
Rob stared at the television screen and noticed the bank’s VP doing an interview on BNN. He hesitated for a moment before responding. “Last week was fun, but we both agreed that it was the last time.”
“Really? We both agreed to that?” She looked at him. Their eyes were locked.
“Yeah, said we should keep the relationship professional.”
“Oh, that’s very interesting, because if I recall, you were in my bed the next morning.” She was still whispering but Rob was conscious that anyone could walk into the kitchen.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” he said.
A mischievous smile transformed on her lovely face. “Oh right, it’s coming back to me now. One last night as lovers. But it’s Friday night after all and I don’t have any plans. So how about a drink with a friend?”
He hesitated. It wasn’t a good idea. He wanted to get up early and go for a swim in the condo pool.
“Well… I am working late. A drink afterwards isn’t a bad way to end the week.” He couldn’t believe what he said.
“Fabulous! I have a meeting at six. I’m sure we’ll wrap up by seven. How about the same place?”
Rob wasn’t sure why he agreed. He told himself it was just a casual drink and he would go home after only one. He watched the victorious smile on her face as she turned on her heels and walked out. He noticed she didn’t get a coffee. She didn’t even have a mug in her hand.
Rob stared at the coffee pot. It was full, and the aroma of office coffee filled the kitchen. He immediately regretted saying yes. He didn’t want to wake up in her bed after a night of drinking. He could hear Tanya’s voice saying he was resistant to shedding his university skin.
“Seriously Rob, you’re like the stubborn lizard who’s dragging around the old hide!”
He used to laugh at the analogy, especially since she said it with such fire. It turned him on. It used to…and then it became nagging. But she was right.
Rob picked up his empty mug, walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. Miranda never flirted when she sat behind her desk. He would knock on her door and tell her that something came up and he couldn’t make it. She would put on her professional face and nod, as if he was saying he would get the website information to her in the morning and he had to leave work due to a personal commitment. As he rounded the corner, the side of the CEO’s face came into view. He was sitting across from Miranda and the door was closed. Her eyes flicked slightly but her gaze never shifted away from the man sitting in front of her.
Rob went back to his cubicle. He could send her a text but it was poor form. He would meet her for one drink and they would talk. Nothing more.
Friday afternoons were usually dead in the office. Most people sneaked out early, grabbing their coats from the closet in fly-by fashion and heading directly for the open elevator doors. Rob was alone by 6:45 and he ventured out of his cubicle and looked around at the deserted office space. Snow was falling outside, highlighted through the windows by the street lights. It made little sense to wait around, so he shut down his laptop and grabbed his coat.
The bar was already full but one table at the back of the restaurant was available. Rob ordered a pint and ran his hand over his slightly wet hair. He unlocked his phone and clicked on the icon for the dating app.
A red flag indicated there were waiting messages and he was now up to 242. Although the list was growing daily, he still wasn’t interested in buying a subscription. At this point, he wouldn’t get through half of them. He checked the smiles, now up to 1084. He scrolled through them, stopping to read profiles of the ones with bright smiles and natural hair. She came up seventh this time. The woman from the elevator. Arielle? Aria. He read her introduction again. Honest. A great smile. He hadn’t seen her since that day in the elevator. He thought back to the conversation. She was so aloof.
Rob clicked on her photo and looked at her smile and her doe eyes. He re-read her profile and recalled the foggy memory of that night in the elevator when Miranda was licking his neck.
He remembered seeing the doe-eyed woman at the pool that day, the sun from the windows reflecting on each droplet of water as she emerged, hair plastered back. She was thin. Almost too thin…
“How are you doing this evening?” The voice jolted Rob out of his memory and he looked up into the eyes of the server and noticed how her black eyebrows seemed high across her forehead as if she was surprised.
“Oh hi. Thanks. I’m good for now,” he responded. “I’ll order when my friend arrives.”
She looked disappointed, as if she had just asked him to dance and he had declined. He watched her walk away in the black spandex dress that stopped just below her rear end. Maybe it was intended to be sexy but tonight it seemed indecent. He watched as she stopped at another table filled with older men in suits. They must have ordered more drinks because her eyes lit up and she scribbled on her notepad.
Rob checked the time on his phone. 7:18. No texts.
He went back into the app and read Aria’s profile again and began to imagine who she really was. He passed her car almost weekly and knew that she drove a light blue Honda hatchback that seemed to be a few years old. She had winter tires. He coveted her parking spot, which was close to the garage entrance, and a few weeks ago she was carrying something that reminded him of Woody’s. The smell made him go straight to his kitchen and pull out a frozen patty from his freezer for dinner. A meaty sandwich from his favourite burger joint would have been better, but he didn’t feel like waiting for Uber Eats or paying the delivery fee.
He scrolled through her photos. She was athletic. A regular swimmer in the pool and maybe a runner. Oh yeah, there it was. A photo of her running, but there was something weird about the smile. Maybe it was just the photo.
Dating someone who lived in the building was risky. As risky as having a fling with the legal counsel at your workplace. But she wasn’t Miranda.
He clicked on the subscription page. A few minutes later, he was a one-month subscriber. He put down the phone and made eye contact with the server who sprinted over. Rob ordered a burger with salad and a draft. His phone said 7:38.
When he realized he was stood up, Rob decided to check his inbox for messages while he waited for his dinner. As a non-subscriber, he had seen the red flags indicating messages were waiting, but he couldn’t retrieve them. Until now, he hadn’t been interested in seeing what he was missing. He clicked on the envelope and started scrolling through the list, pausing on the ones with appealing photos, quickly scanning the one-line greetings, and going back to the list—until one stood out. He stopped. Her smile was unmistakable. And she had sent him a message. Rob was just about to click on her message when the server returned with his burger. Minutes seemed to pass between the plate being placed in front of him and the waiter asking him if he needed anything else. Rob shook his head and went back to the phone. She had sent him a smile and the message over a month ago! He read, and then re-read her words a few times.
He’d never responded. He never knew. And she had been trapped in an elevator with him while Miranda licked his neck. Aw shit! Rob took a swig of his beer and leaned back in his seat. His phone made a sound and he saw a message pop up from Miranda saying a work meeting was keeping her away and she would make it up to him. She had signed with a kissy-face emoji. He signaled the server for the bill, a box for his burger, and didn’t wait for change as he pulled on his coat and left the restaurant.
He read the message on the subway ride, when the signal allowed for it. When he got to the condo, Rob looked around the foyer. A few people were waiting for the elevator, their fingers scrolling over their phones. When the door finally slid open, he held his breath, only to see the middle-aged couple from the penthouse emerge. A waft of perfume hit the air as they headed to the front doors where a limousine waited. Everyone in the foyer piled in and he found himself walking slowly, looking behind him, before stepping in while the doors closed.
By the time he was inside his apartment, he’d crafted a response to Aria in his head. He lay on his bed with his phone and began to write. Somehow, the words in his head didn’t translate into text. Maybe he could just talk to her in person. She only lived a few floors below him. Perhaps she was already heading down to the pool. He flung off the covers and searched for the new swim shorts he had bought last year. Rifling through his drawers, he found the old Adidas ones with the stitching loose on one of the left stripes. It took a bit of time before he located the new shorts with the tag still attached in a bag in his closet.
