Chapter 3 - part 3

"What?" Rashid looked up to see Jasmine giving him a quizzical stare.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Just, uh... thought I saw a hair in your plate?"

"A hair?" Jasmine began to examine the contents of her meal, picking apart layers with her cutlery.

"It was just one of those after-images, y'know? Those things that just kinda... y'know... float around in your vision, even though they're not there?"

"Oh, okay." Jasmine ceased her dissection. "We call those 'floaties' in my family. Always wondered how they happened."

"I wouldn't know. I'm not an optometrist..."

Rashid hoped a meaningless conversation would be enough to distract him, and to his credit, he was able to keep it engaging. Even still, his mind, which had been causing him nothing but trouble ever since Jasmine walked in the room, had once again seized on one tiny detail and began racing elsewhere.

Well, "tiny" perhaps wasn't the best word. The amount of food on Jasmine's plate was anything but "tiny." How such a massive serving of noodles and veggies didn't just topple up and out of her plate was a mystery Rashid would need a Ph.D. in physics to even begin to solve. The fact she thought it might not be enough? That just drove him up the wall.

No wonder she's gained weight. With an appetite like that... Rashid tried to cut himself off before his mind could wander any further. His eyes, though, were not as cooperative.

Jasmine ate her food with gusto. What was once a mountain began rapidly diminishing into a molehill under Jasmine's fork, twisting and scooping rolls of noodles up into her hungry maw between pauses in conversation. Occasionally, her mouth would linger on a particularly savory morsel, a closed-eye moan quietly escaping her lips. The already taut fabric of her tank top stretched tighter and thinner over a belly that was ballooning rounder and fatter with every bite, every calorie, every delicious forkful of rich, heavy food sent down her gullet to combat an immeasurable, insatiable, unconquerable hunger--

--She's your ex; you don't want to get back together with her. She's your ex, she's your ex, she's your ex, she's your ex--

"You sure you're okay? You haven't even touched your plate."

Rashid snapped back to attention. "Hm? Oh, yeah." He took a nibble of his lunch. "Got distracted," he half-chuckled, half-sighed.

"The food here's really good," Jasmine opined, slurping up some more noodles.

"Can't deny that..." Rashid said.

"Ghubaara." There was that word again. It was all he could think of when he couldn't keep his treacherous gaze away from her midriff. "Ghubaara." Filled with food and still inflating. "Ghubaara." Stretched out tight and still expanding. "Ghubaara." Ballooning, ballooning, ballooning...

Jasmine set her fork on her plate, a soft clink emanating as metal met ceramic. She leaned back in her chair, wiping her lips with the cloth napkin.

"That hit the spot," she said, giving her belly a satisfied pat. "You almost done?"

Rashid snapped back to rationality and looked down at his fairly untouched plate.

"I think I'll just ask for a box. I gotta go to work."

"Okay. I'll go get one for you."

"No, it's fine--" but Jasmine had already started walking towards the counter, leaving Rashid to stare at her growing muffin top and voluptuous behind. With more difficulty than he would care to admit, Rashid tore his eyes away from his thickening ex and pulled out his phone, occupying himself with a game of social media catch-up.

"Here." Jasmine set a small.styrofoam box in front of Rashid. "Don't worry about the bill--I already paid it."

"You didn't have to do that--"

"No, but I wanted to. Besides," Jasmine grinned, playfully punching Rashid's shoulder, "you're basically perpetually broke."

"Gee, thanks."

"No problem," Jasmine chimed sweetly, restraining a giggle. Then, without warning, she let out a burp.

"Excuse me," she said, covering her mouth bashfully with her fist. "Guess I ate quite a bit, huh?"

Rashid, for his part, was desperately trying not to melt into a puddle. With a Herculean effort, he managed a shrug and an awkward "It's only natural, no need to apologize."

"It was so good, though," she said, putting a hand on her round belly.

Rashid noticed that Jasmine's tank top had rode up just enough to expose a sliver of brown tummy pudge, a fallen rampart in the battle of the bulge. Jasmine readjusted her tank top to cover up her midriff, but Rashid wondered just how long she'd be able to do that with an appetite like hers, one whose need for nourishment grew with every inch on her waistline, every pound on her frame, a metabolic warzone where food and fat were rapidly winning, expanding their territory, expanding her belly, causing it to stretch and grow like a great big, soft, pillowy balloon--

"Well, it was great to see you!" Jasmine extended her arms out for a hug. Rashid reciprocated the gesture and the two embraced.

"Yeah, you too," he said, taking care to keep contact limited primarily to his upper torso.

She is NOT softer, that's just your imagination, he scolded himself. And even if she was, it's none of your business. You're exes, and you're never getting back together again.

"I really have to go," Rashid mumbled.

"Okay." The two separated. Jasmine looked him over one last time.

"Don't be a stranger," she said, smiling.

"Kinda impossible with us."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah..." Rashid grabbed his takeout box off the table.

"Take care."

"You too."

And with that, Rashid left the restaurant and locked himself in his car. His eyes, those traitorous little eyes, bore holes into the horizon in front of them, while his hands gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. His breath came regularly and deeply--two short breaths in, one long breath out--desperately trying to calm his jackhammering heart and guide the blood flow back to his brain. When his pulse had sufficiently lowered, he turned over the engine and blasted the radio, slowly pulling out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

Before he knew it, Rashid had pulled up in front of the theater, 15 minutes early for rehearsal. Slowly, his head lowered and collapsed on the steering wheel, finally allowing himself to process just what had happened. Rashid worked as a director, and this was the first time he wasn't late. He knew he had to get out of the car and get inside, but not before he let out one exasperated, cathartic sigh:

"Fuuuuuck."