Chapter 98

With her internship at Dr Goodwynn’s clinic finished, she is left scratching her ears as she wonders what to do with her time. In the absence of any ideas magically materialising like a holy vision in the night, she uses her spare hours to hang out at Carlile’s for six out of the seven days of each week, and still ends up wondering what to do with herself. She’s so free she feels trapped. Imprisoned by the tyranny of too much choice, and no choice.

The young couple’s running joke of “Carlile stealing her weight for himself” ends up looking more and more like the opposite of a joke. The constant scraping of her portions onto his plate is beginning to accumulate dividends as the scales report a loss of three pounds for her, bringing her down to 180 pounds, while Carlile’s stomach in the meantime appears to be crawling an atom or two further out towards his lap every time she weighs in.

It makes her grin like an idiot to know that for every three pounds by which she shrinks, her hands will sooner or later happily find a pinch more fat somewhere on his body to grab hold of and play with.

Or, as is common in life’s mundanity, is this all a deceitful game that the apparatus of her mind is playing on itself in self-entertaining boredom?

When the scale reports 178 pounds a week later, she celebrates the loss by cracking open a tube of Oreos, a tub of yoghurt, and from there indulging in two bowls of ice cream in a reckless swoon of dopamine-seeking appetite that gets the better of her, only for her to immediately regret doing so. But how else would she have resolved that punch of remorse in her stomach except by filling that hole back up with even more snacks, and undoing the scale’s downward journey by a digit or two overnight?[]

So she starves herself twice as hard afterwards to repent for her failure – but proceeds to give in no sooner than the moment Carlile brings four boxes of pizza back from work one night, and they gorge themselves out of their clothes. An hour later, they find themselves rubbing each other’s distended bellies, dumb, mindless, their hazy eyes glued to the screen in his room as a documentary on wildlife helps soothe their minds and stomachs into a prolonged, transformative digestion of carbohydrates into adipose tissue.

With just about every family member in the household currently under his roof, they have to make love in careful silence, covering each other’s mouths as they suppress aroused giggles followed by embarrassed shouts of pleasure, unconcealable.

‘God fucking damn,’ Carlile bemoans afterwards, the two of them entwined in a post-sex swaddle. They lay staring at the dark ceiling, knowing that through the plasterboard, the wooden framework and the carpet upstairs, they are technically staring at the backs of his sleeping parents. ‘It’s getting a bit overdue, don’t you think?’

‘What is?’ Matilda asks, her voice drippy and soft.

‘It’s getting stale; needing to be secretive.’

‘I know. Do you really think they can’t hear us?’ she asks, holding his butt cheeks in one hand and rubbing the top of his hand as it cradles one of her breasts.

He rolls his head over to look at her with hints of contrition in his eyes. ‘Can I be honest?’

‘Uh-oh.’

‘No?’

‘No; yes; you’re gunna have to be honest, now.’

Carlile gives her a wide-eyed look. ‘Well… I’ve never been to-o-otally sure they can’t hear.’

‘Aw, fuck.’ She glares at him with long-reaching horror. ‘F-uck.’ She waits for him to say something, then repeats, ‘Fu-u-uck. You aren’t serious, are you?’

He shrugs. ‘They probably can’t. We aren’t raucous; we’re quiet. But they might be able to hear something. But they might not. Probably not. Or maybe they can.’

‘Shit,’ Matilda panics. ‘Shit.’ She stares at the ceiling, a feeling of ghastliness wriggling through her like a worm from throat to toes and back.

‘Don’t freak out. Please. I was just saying; it gets old and stale, doesn’t it?’

‘Uh. Yeah. Now that we know they “might” be able to hear us. I have no idea what to do now that I know this.’

He turns his body so he’s laying on his side facing her. His paunch sags out in a crescent arc, desperately close to touching the sheets. She wants to feed him some more and provoke his stomach into oozing onto the bed properly. Instead she lays her hand on the smooth mass of his midsection, enjoying its soft heat. It’s something she knows she would enjoy having on her own body, if she were allowed – but alas, duty calls her to lose the weight she’s foolishly gained over the course of the past year.

‘Well that’s the thing,’ Carlile says.

‘What “thing”?’ she asks in an idle, amorous voice, taking a fingerful of the chub around his belly button and feeling it roll with incredible rubbery softness between her fingers.

‘The thing is to move out.’ He puts a hand on her upper arm, stroking her skin gently with his thumb as he postulates in his mind. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love this place– I have for a long time. It lets me score one over my fucking brother, wherever the hell he is these days… probably got himself into dealing crack somehow, but… I mean, come on, we’re both adults. Sometimes being down here makes me feel like a kid.’

‘Isn’t rent expensive?’

‘Depends who you ask, and where you are. Places like Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide; we have some family over there and they say rent is shocking. The market over there is way overcooked. But where we are isn’t so bad. Not yet at least. And anyway, I work almost full-time in a kitchen. I’ve been talking to mum and dad about it.’

‘Really?’ Intrigued, Matilda rolls onto her side to face him, leaning on her elbow. ‘You’re actually thinking of moving out for real?’

‘Not me; us.’

Her face brightens. ‘Us?’

‘Of course. What, you don’t think it’s a good idea? Does it taste a bit sour?’

‘No! No-no, I do. I do. It’s just… I’ve been sitting around being a fat piece of shit ever since I… you know? I literally just quit my only passion project in life, and my internship finished almost a month ago now. Or is it more? Shit.’ Matilda sticks her lower jaw out, sighing. ‘How long have I been sitting around for now?’

Carlile shrugs. ‘Things can always change. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about it, is all I’m saying. Dad said they’d be happy to help with a deposit for bond, so that’s half the problem sorted.’

‘Bond. Is that the money you have to give to a landlord?’

He gives her a quizzical look. ‘Yeah.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Look, I’m sorry I have gaps in knowledge of the finer details. I’ve lived at home all my life and been a sport rat, twenty-four-seven. And now I’ve quit that, I’m trying to find myself in the real world.’

‘I know. But if we can manage to do it, then I want to move out. I want to start living on my own– on my own with you. Doesn’t it make sense?’

‘It does…’ Matilda spends a moment fantasising. ‘You’d miss this place, though, wouldn’t you?’

‘Oh, don’t tell me you’re afraid of change now,’ he scoffs, giving her exposed flank a playful slap that causes her slouched belly to give off a lazy wiggle, reminding her just how much weight she still has to somehow push off her body. ‘You, of all people?’ he says. ‘You’re– you were, the bravest player in your club. For years. You were the next best thing to a local legend. Nothing could intimidate or scare you.’

‘Yeah I guess,’ she deflates, ‘but that was back then. This is now. I know I’m being depressing, I’m just having a rebound period, okay? I’m, like… finding myself again, or whatever.’

He searches her eyes with sorrowful care and compassion. ‘It’s alright. That’s another reason why I think you’re brave; having to find yourself again. Anyway, living on our own, like actual adults…? Don’t you think that would help?’

She looks past him into empty space, analysing her thoughts and feelings. Then she begins to nod, each nod growing more affirmative with every passing moment. ‘Yeah… Yeah, I do. You’re right. It would. Yes.’ She nods enthusiastically. ‘Let’s do it.’ Then she sinks down one notch. ‘When I find a job, that is. At least something.’

‘I think we could get away with it for a bit. Until the bills started arriving. But initially I feel like we could get away with it on my income only… what do you think?’

‘Would we have enough budget left over for food?’

He winces. ‘Not likely.’

Matilda winces in return. ‘Uh…’

. . .

It is either a miracle, or some cosmic joke that was waiting for the perfect time to spring its punchline on her oblivious ass, that an email comes through the next morning. It comes from an address handle that reads: “frontdesk@olsen-howitzer.com.au”. Intrigued, Matilda squints through the morning blurriness in her eyes and reads the email, hunching over.

‘Oh my god!’ she yelps out of the blue, her paunch contracting, then pushing back out to jiggle briefly as she leaps from Carlile’s mattress to spring up with energetic delight.

‘What is it?’ he asks.

‘I can’t believe it!’

‘Woah, settle down, I haven’t even made breakfast yet.’

‘I can’t believe this!’

‘What? What’s wrong?’ Carlile panics, thinking some new catastrophe has arrived to put a dent in the hull of their personal Titanic.

‘Listen to this! This is crazy!’ Matilda babbles like an erratic schoolgirl. She kneels on the mattress and shuffles on her knees towards his still rugged-up body. All Carlile can look at is her belly, sunken overnight, but flabby in appearance, wobbling around as she shuffles closer, her phone held right up in front of her face. Settling down on her haunches, she begins to read out loud from her phone. ‘It says it’s from a health clinic group called Olsen Howitzer or something. And– and Dr Goodwynn? That lady who I did the internship with? I didn’t know this, but she works at two different sites, and this one just sent me an email, like, at five-thirty yesterday! I hadn’t even checked! This is so crazy. Listen to this:

“Dear Matilda,

Here at Olsen Howitzer Health Group, 3/40 South Ponds Road, our well-trusted practitioner Dr. Rupi Goodwynn has spoken highly of you in regards to your time spent under her mentorship as an intern at another practice. In the previous fortnight, a vacancy has opened for a secretary at the front administration and reception desk of our clinic. Dr.Goodwynn put forth your name and contact details in an expression of interest on your behalf. In respect of having received positive word of mouth before receiving any external applications for the vacancy, we will be treating Dr. Goodwynn’s word as a legitimate EOI, even though we do not have one from you, and would like to hear back from you.

If you are interested in hearing more about the position, rate of pay, hours, and other further details, please contact us sooner rather than later, in order that we can arrange future discussions.

Please find our contact details inside the signature of this message. We look forward to hearing your response.

Sincerely,
Dr. Kylie McMaugh, Administrator
Olsen Howitzer Health Group, 340 South Ponds Rd, Attikatpa Park, 9037”.’

Carlile’s face, meanwhile, had been growing brighter and brighter with every word, so that by the time she finishes reading, he is beaming straight at her. Lowering the phone, she looks at Carlile with an expression of delight that causes her whole face to expand like the radiance of a sun.

‘Ring them!’ he practically jumps. ‘Do it! Do it now before it’s too late! Go on!’

Not five minutes later, she’s already on the phone.

‘Uh just a moment,’ says a young, distracted-sounding woman on the other end of the line. ‘There was a note left somewhere around here… the relevant information was on that. Let me just find where it went so I can remind my forgetful little noggin.’ Sounds of shifting papers and ledgers on the other end. ‘Ah, I’m sorry. Always something extra to do around here, things always getting lost under something else… ugh… case in point for needing another set of hands at front-of-house! Oh lord, where the heck is it. I’m sorry, just give me a moment, I’ll have to get right back to you. Can you hold?’

‘Yeah, no, no problem at all,’ Matilda stammers, sticking her hand into a packet of honey-soy chips that were meant for Carlile with happy, absent-minded ease as she lays outstretched on the fold-out lounge while Carlile is bringing down some breakfast from upstairs.

She’s put five entire handfuls of chips into her stomach already, and is on her sixth before she realises what she’s doing, and stops her wandering fingers just as the phone line makes a clattering sound from being picked up again. ‘Are you still here?’ comes the lady’s voice.

‘Yes!’ Matilda almost shouts.

‘I’ve got the note now,’ says the lady, audibly sitting back down. ‘So… it’s Matilda, correct?’

‘That’s me.’

‘From what I’ve been told, you were doing an internship with Doctor Goodwynn at her other practice? She’s been talking with management, I think they would like to know if you’d be able or willing to accept some work with us?’

‘Oh my god, I–’ Matilda fumbles, heart stammering with victorious glee, ‘Ye– I–’ She stops herself to manually adjust her frame of mind before she babbles so much she develops a speech impediment. She twists over her shoulder to see Carlile leaning around the side of the partition wall, his shirtless upper body pudgy and milky in the pale morning light, eagerly nodding with wide-eyed intent. Do it! he is mouthing silently, Say yes!

And that’s all the encouragement she needs. Feeling once more like she’s kicking a ball straight into an open net, she lifts her voice. ‘Yes. Absolutely! Could you tell me more? When? Where? What will I be doing? And when do I start?’

. . .