Chapter 5 - section 5

Needing to know for good, Georgia looks for the video on Youtube in the afternoon at home. Sure enough, there it is, the original video having been buried six results deep among countless remixes and montages. William, the new guy. His face fills the screen, shaking around spasmodically thanks to terrible camera work, low-res but distinct enough for her to recognise it as him. Sure enough. And sure enough his drunk mates give him shit until he admits it, sullen-faced and fed up. Georgia's heart melts in sympathy, knowing that this is a real person, flesh and blood, walking, talking, behind the pattern of digital pixels swimming around on screen.

Later that night, sent mad with daydreams involving her swollen body and William's gaze, she takes a moment before stepping into the shower to properly examine herself in her underwear. She doesn't glance at the mirror - not just yet. Looking down, the mound of her belly comes forward, rising like dough between the twin humps of her breasts. Each surface shines round and squishable under the sterile bathroom light; she can see the upper side of her stomach most directly, distended a little more than usual since getting bloated on too many seconds, all that food still sitting high up in her gut waiting to be processed; the front of her stomach bulging out like a pillow with a navel at its center, only just visible; the underside of her gut, out of sight, somewhere beyond her belly's downward curve, just calling to be grabbed. Which she does, just to see what it feels like. Accumulated fat, kneadable down to her stomach muscles, meets her fingers and fills her cupped hand. She jiggles it, catching the movement in the mirror. She looks up. For the first time in a long time, she doesn't just see her midriff, but actually studies it. What should be contorting her face a grimace is instead the most morbidly fascinating thing she has ever seen. She can see her underbelly now, no longer hidden below. Her tummy, it seems, having grown this far out, is threatening to hang over her panties, but is determined to defy gravity for the time beinf. Most of the fat has accumulated under her belly button, effectively making it sit in the very center of her belly like some blackhole. Sticking a finger into herself in various places, she watches her belly half swallow her knuckles before a hard flick sends her entire midriff jiggling.

It is over the next several weeks that Georgia finds such morbid fascinations infecting her behaviour, penetrating one degree further each night, her dreams filled with the craziest things, until she suddenly being to do all this strange, exhibitionist sh*t just to see what William will do...

[24 October - Wednesday, 1st November]

It's not too long before she's figured out that all this gossip might be true. It's been a pure accident at first, shovelling too much food into her mouth, only to turn around and find William waiting to ask her for a key to the storage room. She takes a moment to digest the tar-thick soup of his sudden presence, her cold embarrassment and the added information that he isn't the type to vomit at the sight of girls who aren't thin... But by the time she catches him angling away already, too fast, suspiciously as if he has to hide something, there's no doubt left to be had: something like a tell-tale bulge in his slacks. There's nothing else that can be. As he walks off without another word, she knows, for one thing, exactly what this means, and for another thing, that Elisa and Blake must have been right after all.

The next time isn't so much an accident. Coming to work one morning with a subtle idea already cooking in her cerebral cortex, she goes about her shift like any other day. She has to approach this casually. She has to be sure. She waits until she's done everything the manager has asked, then, instead of going on lunch break, wanders around the store in search of William. She spots him, circles around idly until he's preoccupied, then goes up to him.

Coming up behind his crouching back where he hesitantly tags boxes on the floor, she slips her work shirt from under her belt, lets it hang loose and clears her throat. 'Hey.'

William glances over his shoulder, strip of hair falling over his left eye.

'Need any help tagging?'

He stands up, slow and confident, but demoralised in secret. 'Oh. Sorta. Sorta not.'

She finds herself popping her hip out, 'Just asking cuz when I started here, tagging was one of the sh1t parts of the job.'

Taking a moment to answer, trying not to glance at her midriff, a little obvious at times under her work shirt which for some reason isn't tucked in right now. 'I feel like I'm going alright... I just keep forgetting which exact ones Jones told me to mark as what price.'

'Well i mean, I get that. You can go back to ask double check though. She won't mind. She'd prefer you asked than get it wrong...' But before he can reply, she adds, 'Wouldn't it be your lunch break already?'

He shakes his head with a twisted smile. 'No. Not just yet. In a bit though. Gotta finish this.' Nodding to the untagged boxes.

'Oh. Usually this time of day I get pretty much over it and just need a break.' And, with a yawn, stretches her arms way over her head, showing him an elongated muffin top and the tiniest glimpse of her belly button. She doesn't inspect his groin region. She doesn't even need to. She can see it all in his expression. When she drops her arms, her work shirt settles badly across her belly, leaving each crease and wrinkle to outline its shape. And with that, her heart tapping madly with excitement, says smilingly, 'Alright then, good luck with the tagging. See you around.' And walks away, leaving William staring after her, feeling caught between something like heaven's warmth on one side, and the soul-chill of a 3.00 am nightmare on the other.


[Thurs, 2nd November]

The real test happens one Thursday morning. And get this; it isn't even by her own making. Rocking up, expecting nothing particularly special, Georgia is intercepted by Jones, today's acting manager, who gets her to help William do some mopping in the home hardware aisle. An unhappy kid had tantrumed earlier this morning and left multiple surfaces coated in sticky strawberry shake juice. William wasn't even meant to be on shift today; he just got called in to fill Kim's sick leave. So here the two of them are, William with a bucket-mop and Georgia holding Windex in one hand and two rolls of paper towel in the other, both of them staring at the mess.

'Yuck,' she says.

'Looks a bit like a murder scene, doesn't it?'

Georgia crouches down to inspect the little spatterings of juice that have even ended up sprinkling the plastic packets. 'Like a bomb went off.'

'Reminds me of something similar. There was this one time back home in London-'

With wide eyes, she butts in, 'You're from England?'

'Yeah.'

&ap os;I had no idea.'

'Couldn't tell from my accent?'

'Oh, I just assumed you were from Adelaide or something. They sound a bit posh down there. So, like, when did you move here?'

'Last yea-'

But before he can tell her he's only here on exhange, and is leaving Australia early next year, a customer shuffles around the corner of the aisle.

'Sorry,' Georgia says, moving to guide the elderly lady around the sticky puddles, 'we're just in the middle of cleaning this up.' Having helped the lady get her item and leave, Georgia says, 'We better clean this up.'

They get to it, gradually building up a flow of chatter, weak and wobbly at first. But, quip by quip, they find some sort of rhythm. They talk about all sorts of stuff, mostly easy things, but at least interesting enough not to bore each other.

[Friday, 3rd - Friday, 17th November]

In a matter of weeks, they've already racked up a couple of inside jokes that only they'd get. A few nicknames have been given, as well. Then, on a Friday, getting particularly hot and bothered (and not necessarily because of the day's temperature, either), she dares to try her first truly exhibitionist act around him, just to see what kind reaction she gets.

It's afternoon, nearing the last hour of her shift. But more importantly, she knows William is about to head home. So she sets off to find him and give him something to think about ...

After discarding into the bin an empty 200g packet of chocolate eaten entirely by herself, making her feel particularly fat in the weirdest way, she wanders around the store doing menial things until she spots him. Happening by pure convenience, not at all planned, trust me, to be passing by, she waves him down. 'Hey.'

'Hey-Lo,' he says happily, wheeling a restocking trolley loaded with boxes of confectionery and savoury chips.

Seeing the food gives her another idea. 'You're shifts about to end, huh?' she says.

'How'd you know that?'

'Well, you work most Fridays, so.'

He eyes her skew-whiff. 'True...'

'Lucky bugger,' she smirks. Then, examining the junk food, 'Do you ever get hungry when you see so much good food? How much of that do you think I could eat at once?'

All he can do is laugh nervously and come up with no reply. She watches his adam's apple bob as he looks from her, to the food, back to her. This, she thinks, Just gets better each time. Trying not to giggle, she says, 'Actually, I might just...' as she selects a box of cadbury chocolate and two packets of chips, 'take these home with me- don't tell Jones or Sheryl.' Before he can even reply, she's gone.