Chapter 1

She paused for a minute, looking out the window at the cars and people passing by, the trees, the sunshine. She considered going out—there were always errands to do, and the day looked beautiful, but she just didn’t feel like it. Her gaze returned to nearer surroundings, and she giggled at the piles of plates and boxes and bags around her.

She had woken up this morning with a growling need to eat and keep eating. The feeling was so familiar by now, in part because the days were coming more and more frequently, in part because the feeling was both indescribable and particular. There was no choice but to give in. When she had tried, in the past, to ignore the inner demands, the day had been a ruin—no concentration, no work done, nothing accomplished, AND the need still not sated. Her friends and family had gotten used to her disappearing now and then, though they were whispering behind her back that it was happening more often, and also that she was getting startlingly fat. She had gotten them to stop hassling her about her size for a while, and they were quiet most of the way through the 200s, but at upwards of 350 they were beginning to want to say something again. And she hadn’t even told them that she was on meds for her blood pressure, her cholesterol, and for diabetes.

It just didn’t matter. No one would understand, but it just didn’t matter. There was no denying the demand, and she no longer even wanted to.

Grunting, reaching over her belly, she collected up the big empty box of oatmeal cookies from Ikea, the plates that had held a six-egg provolone and sun-dried tomato omelette, pancetta fried up crispy, fresh, fluffy, crispy waffles drowning in butter and maple syrup, the huge pot of freshly ground coffee with lots of cream and sugar, the empty litre of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. Quite a start, she grinned.

Then she tried to get up, her arms full of plates and the box and the coffee pot. Ummmphh. Nothing. She rocked back and forth a bit, which helped sometimes, and tried again, but still, nothing. Ooops. It was shockingly early in the day not to be able to get out of the chair…. She put everything down thoughtfully, and rose, collecting it all up again. ‘A new step,’ she realised with ambivalence, walking into the designer kitchen. She left everything on the counter for the housekeeper to see to later, and thought about what she wanted next.

She perused the refrigerator, looking through things, moving things around, all the while absent-mindedly playing with her soft, hanging belly. She closed the door, and looked in the freezer. ‘Ah, carrot cake,’ she mumbled, taking a quarter sheet cake out to thaw. She saw some kufteh, those lovely stuffed meatballs with pine nuts and onion, bursting with all those lovely brown seasonings like coriander and cumin, and took a bag of those out as well…

The drawer with the delivery menus called out to her. ‘I really do need something to tide me over until the cake and kuftehs thaw,’ she thought, and realised that she’d also need something to tide her over until the delivery arrived to tide her over until the cake thawed. ‘I lead an unusual life,’ she whispered to herself, and giggled, her double chin and belly gently wobbling. She grabbed a party bag of potato chips, got out a massive container of sour cream and onion dip from the fridge, and settled down with the menus.

She opened the bag and began dipping the chips and eating them unconsciously, keeping her mouth filled with the contrasting textures of crispy and smooth, the cool dip so seductive. She had no idea she was eating—if she could have seen her own face, with its faraway look, she’d have been shocked. She began to look at the menu from the Italian deli in the next town over. ‘That’s what I need, a hero. Or four.’ She giggled to herself and started reading the combos: The Italian--mortadella, genoa salami, capicolla, provolone, lettuce, tomato, onions, oil and vinegar; The Caprese--fresh mozzarella, sliced fresh tomatoes, leaves of basil, and pesto; Kicked-up Ham and Cheese—prosciuttini, shaved parmesan, pepperoncini, lettuce, tomato, oil and vinegar; Sausage and Peppers—with fried onions; Eggplant Parmigiana. She perused the menu seriously, as if she were making a decision, but if she were being honest, she knew she would do what she always did, and order one of each. She found them so sensual, so flavourful, and so filling, she was seduced the moment she picked up the menu.

She called, and the voice on the other end greeted her warmly. ‘Bellissima,’ he said, ‘come stai? Can I make you some heroes?’ ‘Anthony, you know I can’t resist your food—would you send me one of each of the sandwiches? And put a rush on it? I’m so hungry today, I don’t know why, but …’ He interrupted her. ‘Don’t worry, cara, they’ll be right over. But I was hoping you’d call today, because I want to ask you a favour. I’d like to start a bakery part of the deli, only specialty items, but I’m wondering if you would taste some things for me. Would you mind?’

She laughed, and he couldn’t help thinking how erotic her throaty laugh really was. ‘Don’t you know I have an insatiable sweet tooth? You think it’s only your sandwiches that grow my belly you love to pat?’ He blushed, having thought she hadn’t noticed. ‘OK, let me send you half a dozen cannoli, a ricotta cake, and a tiramisu.’ ‘Oh, Anthony, don’t do tiramisu, it’s so overdone…’ ‘Just taste this one, and let me know what you think, ok? I’ll have everything there in less than half an hour.’ She moaned as quietly as she could. ‘You’re a genius—thank you!’