The Uniform: on Guard

Chapter 1

Chapter 1
The uniform was too big.
Not a little too big.
Not throw it in the dryer and see what happens too big.
It was ridiculous.
Daniel Foster stood in the security office with both arms extended while the navy-blue shirt hung from his shoulders like something borrowed from his father. The sleeves nearly reached his elbows. There was enough loose fabric around his waist to gather in both fists.
He looked down at the pants.
They weren't any better.
"Forty-four?"
Across the desk, Frank Donnelly barely looked up from his computer.
"Yep."
"My waist is thirty-six."
"Then wear a belt."
Daniel stared at him.
Frank finally glanced over.
At fifty-something, Frank had the comfortable build of a man who hadn't worried about his waist measurement in years. Broad shoulders, thick arms, and an impressive belly that filled the front of his own security shirt from belt to buttons. The shirt fit him perfectly.
Daniel held out his arms again.
"You don't see a problem here?"
Frank leaned back.
His eyes traveled slowly from Daniel's shoulders to his shoes.
"Yeah."
"Thank you."
"You're skinny."
Daniel laughed.
"I'm two hundred and twelve pounds."
"Exactly."
At six feet tall, Daniel had never considered himself skinny. He wasn't ripped, but he was solid enough. He'd played baseball through college, still lifted occasionally, and at thirty-three could pass for someone who exercised more often than he actually did.
Frank was easily three hundred pounds.
Maybe more.
So perhaps their definitions differed.
"I ordered a large," Daniel said.
"You got what we issue nights."
"Which apparently is a tent."
Frank grinned.
"Give it time."
Daniel looked at him.
Frank went back to his computer.
"Locker room's down the hall."
________________________________________
Daniel had taken the overnight security position because it paid surprisingly well.
That was the entire reason.
Midwest Medical Technologies occupied six buildings on a sprawling corporate campus, including offices, research labs, manufacturing space, warehouses and a distribution center that never completely shut down. Security operated twenty-four hours a day.
Daniel's shift ran seven at night to seven in the morning, three nights one week and four the next.
Twelve-hour shifts weren't ideal.
Four days off sometimes was.
The campus was quiet overnight. Most of his job involved walking buildings, checking doors, monitoring cameras and occasionally helping a third-shift employee who'd forgotten a badge.
Easy.
The first surprise came around nine-thirty his first night.
A woman from Building Two walked into the security office carrying a white bakery box.
"You the new guy?"
Daniel looked up from the monitors.
"That'd be me."
She set the box beside him.
"Cafeteria."
He opened it.
Six enormous cinnamon rolls.
Daniel looked back at her.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Eat them."
"All six?"
She laughed.
"I don't care. They're getting thrown away otherwise."
Frank walked in behind her, saw the box and nodded.
"Good night?"
"Pretty good. There were sandwiches too, but housekeeping got those."
"Damn."
The woman pointed at Daniel.
"You better teach him."
Frank dropped heavily into the chair beside him.
"Oh, he'll learn."
Daniel looked between them.
"Learn what?"
Neither answered.
The woman waved on her way out.
"Welcome to nights."
Daniel looked at the rolls, while Frank prepared a couple of paper plates.
Handing a gooey roll to Daniel, Frank said, "Better not let these go to waste."
They each ate their roll quietly, Daniel still unsure of what was going on.
That didn't stop him from eating a second roll around midnight.
He wrapped another to take home.
Frank ate the other two before morning.
________________________________________
The food credit appeared on his first paycheck.
Daniel called payroll because he assumed they'd made a mistake.
They hadn't.
Third-shift employees received a nightly meal allowance because most campus food service closed before midnight.
Twenty-five dollars per shift.
Daniel immediately did the math.
"You're telling me I get twenty-five bucks every night for food?"
Frank looked confused by the question.
"Yeah."
"That's like three hundred bucks a month."
"More."
"And I can order whatever?"
"Within policy."
Daniel opened the delivery app on his phone.
"This job keeps getting better."
Frank laughed.
"That's what I said."
Daniel ordered a burger, fries and a Coke.
At eleven, someone from a pharmaceutical sales meeting dropped off half a tray of cookies.
At one-thirty, one of the manufacturing supervisors brought them leftover pizza.
At four, Daniel found himself standing beside the security desk eating cold pepperoni directly from the box.
Frank watched him.
"You'll want breakfast around six."
Daniel stopped chewing.
"Breakfast?"
"Cafeteria opens at five-thirty."
"I've already had dinner twice."
Frank shrugged.
"Long shift."
Daniel laughed.
He thought Frank was joking.
At six-fifteen, Frank returned carrying two Styrofoam containers.
Eggs.
Bacon.
Sausage.
Biscuits and gravy.
Hash browns.
Daniel stared at his.
"Holy Crap."
"You don't have to eat it."
That suggestion lasted perhaps ten seconds.
Daniel opened the container.
________________________________________
By the third week, he had stopped packing his own food.
There wasn't any point.
People fed Security.
Daniel couldn't figure out exactly when or why the tradition had started, but apparently everyone on campus knew about it.
A birthday party ended upstairs?
Security got cake.
Training seminar?
Security got sandwiches.
Executive luncheon?
Security got whatever the executives hadn't touched.
A catered event could keep the guards eating for two nights.
The distribution center had its own arrangement. Drivers occasionally showed up with food from places along their routes.
The cafeteria staff was worse.
Or better.
Daniel hadn't decided.
They began recognizing him.
"You're the new night guard."
"Daniel."
"Daniel."
Marisol worked the early breakfast shift. She was probably sixty, five feet tall and completely unimpressed by his attempts at moderation.
The first morning he asked for two eggs and toast.
She put four eggs on his plate.
"That's not what I ordered."
"You work all night."
Then came bacon.
"I don't need-"
"Next."
Frank was behind him.
"Don't fight Marisol."
"I noticed."
"You'll lose."
Six weeks in, Daniel stepped onto his bathroom scale.
228.
He stepped off.
Then back on.
228.
"No."
He moved the scale onto another tile.
228.
Daniel stared down at himself.
Sixteen pounds.
That couldn't be right.
He grabbed his stomach.
There was more of it than he remembered.
Not much.
But enough to fill his hand.
Daniel turned sideways toward the mirror.
The difference wasn't dramatic yet. His stomach had simply lost the flat line he remembered. A small pad of softness pushed outward below his navel, and the beginnings of love handles rested above his waistband.
He sucked in.
Almost normal.
He relaxed.
His stomach rolled outward again.
"Oh, shit."
________________________________________
Frank laughed so hard he had to put down his coffee.
"Sixteen pounds?"
"It's not funny."
"It is a little funny."
"In six weeks."
"You've been eatin' all night."
"Because everyone keeps bringing us food."
"Nobody's making you eat it."
Daniel opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Frank smiled.
"That's what I thought."
Daniel pulled down the front of his shirt.
The stupid oversized uniform still hid everything.
That was probably why he hadn't noticed.
The pants were another matter.
The belt that had been doing heroic work keeping a forty-four-inch waistband around his thirty-six-inch waist no longer had quite as much work to do.
Daniel looked down.
Frank followed his gaze.
"See?"
"See what?"
"Uniform's starting to fit."
"Don't."
Frank laughed again.
Daniel pointed at his stomach.
"This is coming off."
"Okay."
"I mean it."
"Okay."
"I'll start bringing my own food."
"Good plan."
"No breakfast."
"Sure."
"And I'm done eating whatever people dump in here."
Frank took a sip of coffee.
"Absolutely."
Daniel narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You don't believe me."
Frank shrugged.
"I've worked nights seventeen years."
"So?"
"So, I've heard this speech before."
________________________________________
Daniel lasted four days.
The problem wasn't hunger.
It was twelve hours.
Twelve hours was a long time to sit beside food and repeatedly decide not to eat it.
Monday there were brownies.
He had one.
Tuesday, someone left barbecue.
Daniel ate the pulled pork but skipped the bun.
Wednesday was somebody's retirement party.
He avoided the cake.
Then ate a slice at three in the morning because it was still sitting there.
Thursday, Marisol saw him walk past the cafeteria.
"Daniel!"
He kept walking.
"I already ate, Marisol."
"Come here."
"I can't."
"Daniel."
He stopped.
Frank walked past him toward the serving line.
"Don't fight Marisol."
Daniel muttered something and followed.
By the end of month three, he weighed 247.
Thirty-five pounds.
That one bothered him.
Not because of the number.
Because he could see it now.
His face had rounded. His jaw wasn't quite as sharp. His chest had softened, and his stomach no longer disappeared when he stood straight.
It pushed forward.
A real belly.
Not enormous.
Not Frank.
But undeniably there.
His thighs had thickened too. He noticed them touching more often when he walked, fabric brushing between his legs in a way it hadn't before.
Daniel stood shirtless in his bedroom one afternoon, turning sideways.
He sucked his stomach in.
Better.
He relaxed.
The new weight rolled forward again, hanging slightly over the waistband of his shorts.
"Son of a bitch."
He grabbed it with both hands.
Soft.
Heavy.
His fingers sank farther than he expected.
He lifted.
The weight came with his hands.
He let it drop.
His belly bounced once before settling.
Daniel stared at it.
Something about that bothered him more than the scale.
This belly didn't feel temporary anymore.
________________________________________
A couple of weeks later, Daniel arrived early enough to catch the day shift packing up.
Eric Malloy was one of the former cops. Lean, maybe forty, the kind of guy who somehow looked freshly pressed after twelve hours.
He was halfway into his jacket when Daniel walked into the office.
Eric stopped.
"Holy shit, Danny."
Daniel looked behind himself.
"What?"
Eric reached out and poked the swell beneath Daniel's uniform shirt.
"They're building another one."
Daniel slapped his hand away, laughing.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"The night guards. You guys all get bigger."
"Apparently everybody around here won't stop feeding us."
Eric glanced across the room at Frank.
"Yeah. Everybody."
"Don't start," Frank said.
Daniel looked between them.
"Wait. You're blaming him?"
Eric shrugged.
"I'm just saying Donnelly hasn't trained a skinny night guard yet."
"I'm not training him to do anything."
Daniel looked down at his stomach.
Eric gave it another friendly pat on his way past.
"Don't worry about it. Embrace your destiny, big boy."
"***."
Eric laughed and headed through the door.
Daniel watched him leave.
Then looked down again.
Big boy.
He expected the words to sting.
Instead, something warm moved through him.
Daniel pulled his shirt down and went to work.
________________________________________
The uniform, meanwhile, looked fantastic.
Daniel hated that.
The shoulders sat correctly now.
The shirt no longer billowed.
His pants stayed up without being cinched into folds around his waist.
One evening, Daniel caught his reflection in the glass doors of Building Four.
He stopped.
For the first time, he looked like Security.
Big guy.
Navy uniform.
Heavy belt.
Broad chest.
Thick middle.
Daniel stared for several seconds.
"Shit."
"You okay?"
He turned.
Marcus, one of the maintenance guys, stood behind him carrying a toolbox.
"Yeah."
Marcus looked at Daniel.
Then at his stomach.
"Damn, man."
Daniel knew immediately.
"What?"
"You're getting big."
"***."
Marcus laughed.
"No, seriously. Look at you."
"Sure, I've gained a few pounds."
"A few?"
Daniel pushed through the doors.
Marcus followed.
"They feeding you down there?"
"Apparently everybody is."
Marcus slapped Daniel between the shoulders.
"That's Security."
"What does that mean?"
Marcus grinned.
"You ever seen a skinny night guard?"
Daniel stopped walking.
Marcus kept going.
"See you tomorrow, big man."
Daniel resumed his rounds.
Halfway down the next corridor, he noticed something else.
His gait.
There was the slightest sway to it.
He straightened and deliberately changed his stride.
Normal.
Perfectly normal.
________________________________________
At 258 pounds, Marcus noticed it too.
Daniel had just finished checking the warehouse doors when Marcus came around the corner.
"Dude."
Daniel kept walking.
"What?"
"They got you waddling now?"
Daniel stopped dead.
"I am not fucking waddling."
Marcus laughed.
"Oh, you totally are."
"My feet hurt. I've been walking for ten hours."
"Mmhmm, sure, big man."
"***."
Marcus walked away laughing.
Daniel continued toward Security.
Three corridors later, he caught himself doing it again.
His thighs pressed together.
His belly moved slightly with each step.
And when he was tired, his hips had apparently begun compensating for both.
Daniel slowed.
Then looked back, expecting Marcus to interject again. He was gone and despite himself, Daniel half-chuckled.
"Goddammit."
________________________________________
After that, Daniel started noticing.
Not just Frank.
The weekend night guard, Curtis, had to be at least 330.
The distribution-center guard was huge.
Even Paul, who worked swing shift, carried a substantial belly beneath his uniform.
Day shift?
Different story.
Two of them were former cops. One ran marathons.
Nights?
Big men.
Daniel cornered Frank.
"Why are all the night guards fat?"
Frank looked down at himself.
"Whoa, excuse me?"
"You know what I mean."
"No. Explain it."
Daniel lowered his voice.
"Every guy on nights is huge."
Frank paused and considered this.
"Curtis is pretty big."
"Curtis is enormous."
"He likes donuts."
"This isn't funny."
Frank smiled.
"It kind of is."
Daniel pulled at his shirt.
"You knew."
"Knew what?"
"That I'd gain weight."
"I assumed."
"And that's why you ordered this size."
Frank leaned back.
"No."
Daniel waited.
Frank's expression changed.
For once, he wasn't joking.
"We didn't order it."
"What?"
"That uniform belonged to the guy before you."
Daniel looked down.
"Why am I wearing someone else's uniform?"
"Because he quit before it fit him. Barely wore it. Honest."
"What size was he?"
Frank shrugged.
"About your size when he started."
Daniel stared at him.
"You gave him this?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
Frank smiled again.
"Tradition."
Daniel's stomach tightened.
"That's fucked up."
"Nobody made you gain forty-six pounds."
"Forty-eight."
Frank turned, raising an eyebrow.
Daniel immediately regretted correcting him.
"Forty-eight?"
Daniel tried to ignore him.
Frank laughed.