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The Ex-Athelete


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The Ex-Athlete

an Observer tale with some scenes interpolated

from Poorp’s incomplete “The Ex-Cheerleader”)

 [ Author's note: I tried to help a budding first time writer with a promising story, but he never responded to my ideas. His own story lay abandoned.  More thoughts kept popping into my head, resulting in the following “inspired by” tale, which includes some sections paralleling the original.]

Chapter One – Searching for Identity

Margie, as she’d had been known to her classmates before graduation, was a leading member (some would say star) of the Adams High School volleyball squad. She was also a reliable helper for school activities, had respectable grades and was never a discipline problem for the faculty.

She was by nature modest, self-effacing as to her natural talents and appearance. Still, Margie was somehow regarded by many as the “total package.” Bravely flawless in complexion with sharp facial features, well defined collarbones and cascading long hair sometimes worn in a ponytail, she stood five feet ten inches. She had a killer athletic physique which combined a strong abdomen with the well-toned curves of a Greek Goddess. She wasn’t skinny by any means, but her torso was slender enough that in a bathing suit her ribs and scapula bones were still visible.

Margie possessed naturally a sporty, confident personality, yet elected most of the time not to say too much. She was more of the “actions speak louder than words” kind of girl, one who with maybe twenty pounds less could have been a model, but at 135 pounds with her height she was at the low end of normal weight and a comfortable size six.

Physically active, Margaret Copeland simply wasn’t concerned with weight issues. She had learned that she was active enough to forgo being a scale watcher like some of her friends. Frankly that was a relief, for she found the topic boring. She would frequently mix dessert with entrees for school lunch, not to mention devouring a bowl of Tostitos Salsa Con Queso at a party or frequently enjoying an after-dinner bowl of ice cream at home with no ill effects.

Her family was devoid of diet Nazis. Margie, along with her younger sister Sharon and brother Bobby, were taught essentially to “finish their meals.” Sharon had a somewhat energetic tomboy temperament through middle school; this helped compensate for a minimal appetite in her preteen and early adolescent years. The latter was traceable to allergy issues that had been resolved, but still left her with a minimal appetite and a thin physique with a 14.0 BMI – around 95 pounds. Bobby, like Margie, was active and more concerned about sports standings than the size of anyone.

As they grew up the Copeland siblings were encouraged to eat all of the ample family-style breakfasts and lighter suppers their mom prepared; school lunch was optional but available as time allowed. Outside these parameters they were free to graze on other foods that were readily available. These generally included ice cream products in the freezer, fixings for homemade cheese sandwiches, oatmeal raisin cookies and chewy chocolate nut bars from Trader Joe’s.

Margie usually wasn’t a grazer on any of this. Neither were either of her siblings. Still, the ready availability of such treats insured that they never felt deprived or that they had to be especially conscious about gaining weight.  Indeed, Sharon privately at times wished that she could be twenty-thirty pounds heavier like some of her classmates, but she just wasn’t that food-focused. In the Copeland house the option of personal choice neutralized the weight war tension found elsewhere.    

Unlike her chunkier friend and longtime neighbor, Melanie Workman, checking the scale remained the furthest thing from Margie’s mind throughout her school years. She didn’t spend time on makeup, but her hair was another matter. She had long flowing brunette locks that were at times braided in the back when not left cascading to her shoulders or bunched in a ponytail.

 A natural athlete, she’d once considered joining the cheerleading squad but had opted for the lower profile volleyball team instead. This choice wasn’t just because she felt her height would preclude her from being part of the pyramid. She might have become Captain of the squad, but her personality simply wasn’t comfortable with trying to become a "queen bee” diva. She had no desire for a posse of sycophants; inwardly she was more of a loner struggling, like any stereotypical young person, with her own identity issues.

This reticence extended to dating. Throughout high school she was courteous enough to guys, including a loner named Sylvester, whose unusual name had earned him the sobriquet “Cat,” after a famous cartoon character, but was close to none. Margie was a semi-loner herself, accepting a few dates in groups, but generally keeping to herself.

Cat didn’t understand this seeming aloofness.

 Margie had a special vitality, a presence or persona that bespoke inner wisdom, but also a self-imposed mystique that no one seemed able to penetrate.  Most suspected that was because she didn’t want intimacy and might fear getting too close. And so when people commenced talking about her, speculating, creating tales, and the like Margie was content to let them. She just smiled and, at least to all outward appearances, didn’t care. Especially when it involved food.

Margie.

Cat the loner daydreamed, recalling an exchange he had been party to, albeit with no guidance he could fathom acting on:

           Student: Yeah, Margie was there at the party, just sitting and looking around. Like usual. She had a

                           plate full of mini-pastries, but she took her sweet time eating them.

  Cat: maybe someone should have put out some Ferrero Rocher chocolates – they’re an Italian specialty.

              Student: Who knows? It was just something watching her look at others, taking a bite every

                          3-4 minutes. We’re talking Mystical Margie here, not the menu.

Cat sighed. He liked Margie, but food was his hobby. He wanted to combine the two and share with her, but it was awkward. No one in her circle cared to hear his observations about a tasty wafer shell confection covered in milk chocolate and chopped hazelnuts, then filled with more hazelnut chocolate. It was always Margie, not the food, that her friends wanted to talk about – not just first, but solely.

Margie.

It didn’t matter how he tried to suggest things – the best desserts from yummly.com or entrees such as sweet potatoes from foodnetwork.com. Cat knew of such dishes and wanted to share them with others, and especially with Margie, because he thought their favor, and hers, would validate his unique interest. Problem was, his classmates weren’t interested in a party using Cat’s menus. They just wanted to jabber on about Margie’s aura and presence, not what they and she might actually enjoy.

Margie.

The mystique annoyed him, but he with time realized it wasn’t her doing. It just came naturally and she couldn’t help it. Margie was just the kind of person that was on everyone’s lips. In a good way. Students, teachers, parents, alumni, complete strangers gave her constant streams of positive appraisal just for her being her.

None of the accolades favoring Margie captured Sylvester’s imagination; if anything they annoyed him greatly because he felt they were at least partially made up. But over time he longingly wished he was in her league, something he felt could never happen.

Sylvester, the “lone wolf” of the graduating class, groused to himself in silence. He was one to rather pay attention to his own concerns rather than drool over the word pictures of what Margie wore to school or had done that day. Not that he was the weird kid in school or anything; everyone, including Margie, just saw him as someone who was there, nothing strange or extraordinary about him. Just there.

He made adjustments to his attempts at conversing about the amazing recipes he created experimenting at home being hijacked and was often mis-interpreted. They were never appreciated by his classmates, simply used by them as a springboard to transform into a discussion of what Margie ate for lunch that day or what she did in class or who she sat next to. Yeah. People were that enticed by her and everyone would remain star struck by a one dimensional image throughout the four years of high school, except for him.

During high school Sylvester liked Margie, but cared little about her mystique and “greatness.” Every little thing he heard in campus gossip was always “Margie this” and “Margie that.” And he was intimidated by the chatter – if it were even true, which inwardly he doubted. She wasn’t, he felt, herself that self-absorbed because she did nothing to encourage such talk.

For her part, apart from casual greetings Margie seemingly didn’t really know Sylvester existed at all during those high school days. True, she wasn’t into culinary matters but that wasn’t the issue. The stocky kid for whom food was a hobby simply didn’t register with her pro or con; he just wasn’t on her radar – no one really was. With people flocking to her left and right, there wasn’t really a need to go scouting out new friends, especially the quiet kids in the class. Like Sylvester. But the natural diva strangely wasn’t in love with her unique status.

Sure, being popular did have its perks; People willing to do your homework, drive you to and from school, do the most mundane things for you for just a little smidgen of attention. Yet, to the huge surprise of everyone, she constantly stayed above it all.

Margie denied herself the choice of going to parties every weekend – just participating in an occasional event. She denied herself having dates from the jocks and other popular kids who were mostly in it for that one thing, just groups. She denied herself the chance to help in the mischief of ‘Tee-Pee-ing’ the principal’s house, choosing not to get involved. She ignored anything that would make her feel... well, she didn’t know … just not right.

Margie didn’t know how she wanted to be treated. She never gave it a serious thought, but going to a school feeling like some kind of pampered queen began to feel wrong. In the middle of her Senior year she once worried if she missed an entire day of school whether everyone would freak out, yet upon her return would throw a parade.

“No,” she realized, “that’s incredibly pretentious.”

She shared her concerns and conclusion with her chunky friend and neighbor Melanie, saying “we’re all works in progress, all different, and one shouldn’t put anyone else down or elevate them up just because they’re different.”

Melanie smiled in agreement. She had her own issues and could understand Margie’s feelings. She knew Margie wished for the day that someone would simply treat her like an equal.

That, Melanie realized, was it! Margie wanted others to accept her as an equal and stop acting like every little action that she made was flawless. But Melanie wondered if always fair, always positive, always level-headed Margie understood the nuances of Melanie’s own struggle.  She sighed, recognizing that was unlikely

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Chapter Two – a transition begins

This puzzlement took greater focus when Melanie noticed something the latter part of their Senior year. Normally Margie wore slacks or jeans with a top, but at an evening dinner in March she wore a full length dress. Melanie recalled prior such occasions. Margie’s toned abdomen had always been absolutely taut and flat, but now there was a subtle change. In this dress the outline of a slightly convex belly bulge could distinctively be seen.  The fabric seemed stretched a bit as well, Margie seemed oblivious to what Melanie’s astute eye noted.  

Was her traditionally athletic friend, the one faithfully dedicated to a morning routine of light stretching-push-up-side stretch calisthenics “just to wake up and get going,” beginning to pick up weight?

To the pound-conscious chubster Melanie it certainly appeared so. She also noted that, possibly due to the tightness of her clothing, Margie that evening seemed more comfortable standing than sitting. And it seemed to Melanie that always slender Sharon, the one elementary kids once called scarecrow, might be picking up a few pounds as well.

“It’s probably none of my business, but I’m going to have to ask Margie what’s going on,” she said to herself.

The next day at school Melanie followed through on her promise. Margie shrugged while devouring a piece of pie after devouring a spaghetti and meatball entrée for lunch.

“Yes, some things have been changing since the holidays. Mom went back to work after holiday break. I’ve been cooking breakfast for the family for five months and getting paid for it. And of course volleyball is over,” she casually acknowledged. “That dress was a snug fit, but I didn’t know it till the last minute because I hadn’t tried it on for nearly a year. But so what? A few pounds with my height are no big deal.  If I’ve added a few I’m not worried about them.”

And that, as far as Margie was concerned was that.  She finished her meal, pie included, without a breath about Melanie’s own 200+ pound body. Melanie accepted Margie’s answer, not giving her an argument – certainly Margie wasn’t heavy like her but Melanie’s size had never been a topic. Margie never tried to lecture or tried to advise Melanie like others did.  But she was still curious about her younger sister.

“Sharon seems to be enjoying your cooking,” Melanie observed, pushing things a bit further.

“Oh, it’s not just mine,” replied Margie. “Just after Mom went back to work, before the holidays, a lady Sharon had done babysitting for before started working as well. Mrs. Lynch asked her to stay over monitoring her three kids after school - $50 a week apiece. But Sharon soon learned an apple a day plus a few cookies out of a box doesn’t keep kids their age happy for long, nor do they want to sleep like during the evenings.”

“So?” asked Melanie.

“Sharon has had to start preparing snacks, some from boxes but others she makes - like pie and toasted cheese sandwiches. Sometimes she brings things home as leftovers for a late night snack. She’s eating more and enjoying filling out a bit – remarked to Bobby, who caught her with ice cream, that she might even begin to get some curves. But she’s still barely over a hundred pounds – if that, which is pretty thin. You won’t catch either of us getting on a scale”

“True,” replied Melanie, winching a bit comparing the number to her own corpulent frame. “She barely has a bust. I guess for her it’s a good thing.”

Margie shrugged – in her special world Melanie and Sharon were simply two people to whom she was close, their contrasting figures of no significance than different models of a car. Margie knew they were both honest, loving and trustworthy – which is what counted.

Margie went home, had a typical good supper with her family, then later shared ice cream with her sister – augmented by a shared package of chocolate covered cranberries Sharon had brought home from the Lynch’s.  Such unique comfort foods were becoming increasingly common before bedtime, as Bobby duly noted, but said nothing to the girls, who were seemingly oblivious.

Melanie however was weight and size-conscious. Over the next week she kept observing and noted that Margie was still routinely having good sized lunches in addition to whatever she was preparing for breakfast. When wearing pencil skirts her blouses were now beginning to hang outside instead of being tucked in. Melanie noticed that occasionally Margie had to pull the skirt up when standing – otherwise it would slip under her small developing belly.

“If she keeps this up she’ll be getting officially plump by graduation ” thought her friend, “but I‘m certainly not the one to talk.”

Rather than criticize or ask questions Melanie chose to just continue watching, making a point of eating with Margie over the next month. After that time she estimated that her friend was easily averaging over 2500 calories a day --- definitely more than she was expending. 

Melanie knew it was understandable – finals were coming up, everyone was under stress and it wasn’t the time to be dieting.  Besides, Melanie knew from experience that diets were a joke. She did notice, however, that Margie’s graduation and prom dresses also appeared quite snug – even though her friend had confided that she’d stepped up to a size 8.

Over time, after graduation, all three classmates - Margie, Melanie and Cat – would find themselves still struggling with discovering their inner selves and their goals as to career and life. Sharon, with a ringside seat for it all, would experience transition as well. Changes would occur. Margie’s heart would come to belong to Cat and his to her while Melanie would have a friend of her own. And therein lies our tale.

Margie as she approached graduation had grades ample to qualify her going directly to college, but she had no idea of what major to take. Her dad mentioned that a local office share building might be looking for a reception clerk which could be a summer job. Margie decided to check into it; a week after applying she was told she’d been hired. It was then that she bought an entire new and more comfortable size 10 wardrobe, two steps up from the loose size 6 she had worn at the opening of school the year before.

“I guess I’m maturing into a real, full bodied woman, like Sharon dreams of,” Margie thought as she acknowledged  the softening of her once taut belly and what seemed to be a tightening of her bra cups. She did not, however, venture near a scale. 

Reporting for work she was introduced by the woman who had interviewed her, Tavena Turner, to Sandra Escalante, a full-bodied Latina who greeted her warmly. Sandra winced as Tavena turned to leave remarking, “Let’s just hope that Miss Copeland’s coming restores some normalcy around here!”

Sandra took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment and sighed as she spoke to Margie. “Please forgive Tavena. She’s been through a lot – I’ve read your application and checked your references. No way are you likely to make her unhappy. Let’s go look at our work station.”

Margie discovered that they would be sharing a console opposite two banks of elevators, both answering phones, receiving deliveries and helping direct those unfamiliar with the seven story building which housed both long term and transitory tenants. There were also two meeting rooms for use by tenants on an “as available” basis.

“This is what we do – pamper the tenants, even act as go-fers running errands.  There’s a smart car in the parking garage down below --- you’ll be able to use it after passing a safety course.” Sandra remarked. “And the tenants tend to pamper us if we go out of our way to help them. That includes a free daily cappuccino for referring people to the coffee shop if you want it. ”

“I see,” replied Margie, “and I take it Tavena didn’t care for the pampering style recently?”

“You could say that. I’m eight years older than you with a college degree. I know a little about customer and employee relations. In the three years I’ve been here you’re my fifth trainee intern – the first three are still here in the building happily working for tenants.  But the fourth Tavena and I had to take on as an EEOC case accommodation transfer. She came from another building the company owns – it was a nightmare,” Sandra explained. “It took three months to document and correct what we both knew by the second day was a mistake. Thankfully I know you’re not going to be that kind of trouble.”

“Hopefully not, but how can you be so sure?” Margie asked.

“History and contacts. You were in fourth grade at the time, but we attended and graduated from the same high school.  Two of your references were my teachers as well and I asked.  You’re not one likely to mock me because I occasionally need a wardrobe upgrade (even if it probably is the truth), or call in sick because you woke up late with a headache from partying too much. “

“True,” noted Margie, “I don’t even drink and partying tends to bore me. And who am I to judge others about size when I’m beginning to have some chub myself?”

“Exactly – although to be honest when I started work here I was careless. Newly married, freshly graduated from college and most of my wardrobe was two sizes too small – my pants and skirt were constantly slipping down under my belly,” recalled Sandra. “My under blouse was sometimes exposed and even part of my stomach – Tavena offered me an advance to get new clothes. I quickly upgraded my wardrobe, but have still continued gaining rather than shedding pounds. Fortunately, Larry, my husband, likes the chub.”

Over the next week Margie came to understand what the size 18 or so Sandra was saying.  She always seemed to have on hand something for a snack and was quick to suggest to Margie suitable nearby places for lunch, several of which gave discounts to employees.

“You just have to try the gyros with Tzatziki sauce at Falafel Heaven,” she’d remark.  Or “the fajita wrap at Pancho’s is great – along with the usual rice and beans, of course.”

This cavalier attitude towards food quickly rubbed off on Margie, who found Sandra’s recommendations to be spot on tasty. It also explained her associate’s chubby figure, which occasionally drew crude remarks from strangers; she got red faced especially at one unsolicited remark about how she was a Chica who’d been enjoying too many enchilada combos.

“My husband likes meat on my bones, so what business is it of theirs?” she’d complain. 

Margie silently agreed, and was glad when one day Tavena, herself not slender, overheard one of the remarks from a tenant and promptly hauled the harasser into her office.  No one criticized Margie, whose own growing figure was offset by wardrobe upgrades that didn’t broadcast her gaining,  but she decided mentally to prepare some retorts if such a day ever came.

As the summer progressed she found herself moving about the building filling in for various clerical aides on vacation, answering phones, working a computer, and running errands. This suited her just fine. It was Margie’s silent desire to be in an environment where she’d just be accepted for herself, an objective which began to come true. She made friends, got assigned jobs such as getting refreshments for staff meetings, and basically proved herself responsible and reliable.

That said, Margie’s natural congeniality made her still stand out as did one other thing: her height. Being taller attracted attention, but it also had an advantage – it didn’t emphasize the few pounds she knew she must be adding. And so for the summer she decided it was alright to continue her indifference to the calories in the variety of available food. She freely shared in the treats in every office celebration, especially since she frequently had a hand in procuring them.

But then fate intervened. Still undecided about college at the end of summer one of the tenants offered Margie an ongoing position not just filling in, but being given a regular position with benefits, “for a year or until you’re ready to go on with your schooling.”

After talking with her parents, Sandra, and Tavena, Margie accepted.  It was by then about four months after graduation. Her best friend Melanie, who had found work at a day care center for pre-school age children, had noticed the earlier transformation continuing. To her, Margie’s always good appetite seemed to have increased with predictable results; not only did her once firm torso appeared to be softening, her hips seemed slightly broader as well.

The flat, tight abs of a perfectly-proportioned fit girl with broad shoulders and hips separated by a thin waist were by now totally erased, replaced by a thin layer of flesh puffing over the top of her pants. Melanie knew from her own wrestling matches with weight issues what was occurring. What had been merely an adjustment of a pencil skirt in school now had the beginning of a potential muffin top. Margie’s once prominent ribs were becoming less noticeable as well.

“Does she even realize?” the much more weight conscious Melanie wondered. “She seems to be eating more now that she’s working even though she’s sitting much of the time?”

Her suspicions were confirmed when the two met up for lunch one day.  They joined up at one of Sandra’s suggested cafes. Margie noticed her friend having to pull down a bit on her slacks for comfort before getting seated. Still, she casually ordered a calorie-rich country fried steak with gravy which came with a side salad and piece of pie. Melanie had her usual burger and fries.

Melanie, knowing herself to be well over 200 pounds in her own right and outweighing Margie by at least seventy pounds, once again decided to say nothing. She did, however, decide to take more note of her friends eating patterns. It was easy to do – simply send her text messages about her own snacking and see how Margie would respond:

        Melanie: I know it’s naughty, but couldn’t resist having carrot cake with my caramel

                      crunch Frappuccino today.

         Margie: Enjoy. I‘m not dieting either – had a Chipotle burrito for lunch today - barbacoa,

                      rice, pinto beans, fajita veggies, chili corn salsa, cheese, sour cream. Delicious!

        Melanie: What’s barbacoa?

        Margie: Slow roasted shredded beef - delicious, and it’s just down a block.

        Melanie: U eating there every day?

        Margie: No, there are other places -yesterday it was a gyro with a yogurt

                     parfait. Just so its quick – I have to go and come back in an hour

      Melanie: You gaining any weight?

        Margie: Oh some, definitely – but I’m still within bounds. I need to upgrade

                     my wardrobe though. Getting snug. I may be up to a 12 – ten is

                     getting to feel tight. “

“So, she at least knows,” Melanie reassured herself. “But if she doesn’t watch out she won’t be within bounds much longer.”

Margie however, had no such conscious concerns. She had by now been cooking for the family for ten months, becoming used to freely indulging in experimental breakfasts. These included such fare as 2-3 healthy granola chocolate chip waffles with scrambled eggs one morning, chipped beef with cream sauce and scalloped potatoes another day, or French toast and cowboy breakfast skillets on a third. It was all part of a concerted effort to eat healthier than what she saw as the alternatives: wolfing down donuts and coffee from the drive thru or having fast food from a burger stand.

“Sure, I’ll probably gain a more few pounds on top of the ten or so thus far but it will be healthier and I’m tall enough to handle it,” she had told herself, not really knowing that it was by now nearly twenty plus ten.  She was utterly unconcerned, if she was even aware, about the plump softness of the nascent paunch beginning to spill over the waistband of her panties. Neither was she taking any notice of the way her thighs were expanding and filling in between her legs.

Margie was happy for her sister Sharon, however, as the latter announced that she was now up to 114 pounds – a low normal for her 5’6” height, but a major increase from what everyone knew had been in the mid-nineties the year before.  Her mom commented that it didn’t surprise her. Sharon had been treating her own family on weekends to exotic take out restaurant food like Red Thai Duck Curry and Mexican Banzai fish burritos.  Even Margie’s curiosity was piqued,

“Where do all these fancy dishes come from?” Margie asked one evening in front of their mom..

“Well, Mrs. Lynch suggested arranging for supper so that she and her kids could eat better, so I started to experiment with some restaurant prepared meal delivery services she told me about – and of course I’ve been included. Some of them have been so good I couldn’t help but share,” replied Sharon. “The variety has certainly helped improve my appetite. “

Mrs. Copeland sighed, “yes, when you’re working the range of home cooking suffers – and I’ve always regretted that. You and Margie have really taken up the slack.  Thank you both.”

Margie typically nodded agreeably, accepting the exchange in stride as she had with Melanie.  She knew of Sharon’s late night snacking, including stashes of ice cream sandwiches and chips, and her own participation.  She was also aware of her own Sandra-influenced fondness for high calorie drinks like S'mores Frappuccinos at work and the influence of the office get togethers..

This wasn’t all. The girls from various tenant offices it seemed, had regular “occasions” to be celebrated by lunches at various buffets.  Some of them were getting decidedly plump, and she suspected she might be too – but it didn’t matter. There was more eating than her mom knew going on at work, but no reason to say anything. Margie had looked in the mirror – her fleshy torso was no longer an hourglass. She knew that she couldn’t wear her jeans without creating a muffin top and seemed to be developing curvaceous love handles. This acknowledged she still regarded herself as being at best getting a little thick and quite presentable. , but still to her mind presentable. She was inwardly confident that with her height any gain would be less apparent and, even if it wasn’t, her mom wouldn’t likely care.

 

 

 

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Chapter Three – Life after high school continues

 

As for Sylvester, he was attending junior college, taking business classes to please his parents, but also deliberately avoiding immediate enrollment in a four-year college for a reason he knew he needed to keep private, at least for now. It wasn’t difficult because in truth his interests were focused elsewhere. This had put him on a path – one that would lead to his unintentionally learning more about human interaction than he would in any of his formal classes.

Sylvester for the present had landed a part-time job at Scone City, a specialty store located within a local shopping plaza. Of course the store was more than a one-stop shop for scones. They also did custom birthday cakes, jelly filled cupcakes, seaweed donuts, etc. Basically, as the list went on the more ridiculous the crazy concoctions got.

It was Tuesday and Sylvester dutifully brought out one fresh batch of donuts after another, trying to satisfy the desires of his employer. The boss demanded that the pastries on display look as mouthwatering as, “Those freshly made Hardees burgers from the commercials. Y’know the ones that fall in perfect order: bun, onion, tomato, meat, cheese, meat, cheese, lettuce, sauces, and sesame seed bun. Like that, yet pastries aren’t made like that. Just do the best you can.”

Nothing looked better in his boss’s eyes than a perfectly glazed donut cooling off in the display glass.

After setting the bakery’s trademark scones on the top shelf, Sylvester turned his attention to the dingle-ling from the front door. He was shocked when he saw his high school heart-throb Margie sauntering in.

She was there to provide treats for an upcoming office meeting. One of her co-workers, not Sandra, had suggested the variety at Scone City and she was there to check it out, having also visited two other places, even having an overly-sweet caramel pecan flavored cinnabon at one specialty shop that she rated a D.

Now having located Scone City the young man behind the counter seemed familiar to Margie but it took a few moments to register –oh yeah,  it was Cat, the guy from high school some had told her about, but typically she hadn’t encouraged them to do anything.

 Sylvester initially just rolled his eyes, thinking that the glamorous Margie must know that she still looked drop dead gorgeous. With her Louie Viton sunglasses, the orange cotton sundress she wore waved through the air while giving hints of an underlying more curvaceous figure; her impressive bust also was outlined from the sundress’s snugness around her torso, the result of softening from nearly eighteen weeks of a more sedentary post-graduation life style.

Margie hung her sunglasses from the chest of her sundress, perching her elbows on the counter, and ogled the display counter. Anyone from behind would find it hard to not drink in her no longer so slender calves leading up to sturdy thighs and a delectable rounded behind that nearly any woman in her late teens would kill to have. What a tease, but to Margie it just came naturally.

Sylvester half expected some kind of massive paparazzi or clique to fill the restaurant with a bunch of unwanted buzz because “she” was there. But, no. It seemed to be just her today, oddly enough.

While the superstar from high school idly stared at the massive pastry selection, Sylvester turned up the volume on the radio. He still thought at times, despite his more charitable instincts, that Margie might have snubbed him deliberately in High School. The suspicious side of his nature wasn’t going to let some attention hog snob distract him from his favorite song.

Margie was oblivious to his thoughts. She unexpectedly began rocking her head in sync with the music. Sylvester noticed this and smiled. He couldn’t help but stare dumbfoundedly at the way Margie’s silky hair flowed along with her pretty head.

“Hey! Get back to work! Don’t fall into her trap,” the warning bell clanged in his head.

Sylvester returned his attention to making labels for the new pastries with an occasional glance toward the woman still at the counter. A few times he was caught glancing at her. Margie’s sharp blue eyes met with his, almost as though she might know who he was. But he knew that was unlikely. He looked away. Was it him being caught looking at her or did he catch her looking at him? Neither could tell.

Using his non-existent detective skills, Sylvester deduced that it must be that Margie liked the band on the radio. From the way she tapped her foot to the way she hummed the lyrics perfectly.

“No way, he thought to himself. As a huge fan, he knew that exact band would be in town next week. With tickets already in his possession he had been ready to take his friends and himself to the concert. Except, one of those particular friends, one that he had partnered with in doing catering for special events, had up and left on a summer road trip just days ago. Crud.

He pondered, “I shouldn’t let this ticket go to waste. I wonder…”

Swallowing, he decided to take a chance.

 “’Scuse me, uh,” he stammered. The moment Margie looked at him this time his mouth felt the driest it had ever been.

Why was that? He wondered. He had no idea, but his tongue was tied.

”D-do you like this band? Cause I-I,” he cleared his throat. What was happening? “I have four tickets to their concert for some friends but one of them had to leave town for a week and backed out, so if yo-“

“Really? I tried online the other night but it was sold out.” Margie interrupted, feeling sorry about Cat’s shyness but picking up instantly on his line of thought. He wasn’t a total stranger to her and her instinctive friendliness was at work – one of the things that drew people naturally to her. Her intuition told her that his intentions were benign, unlike so many others, and that’s what mattered for the moment.  Cat needed encouragement, not rejection.

“It’s always nice to try something new, especially someone who I went to school with but never quite got to know, ‘Cat’ wasn’t it?” she continued with a warm but commanding tone. “Let me give you my number and we can work out the details – right now I’m needing to complete things for the errand I’m on and get going.

“Oh, yeah – That’s why you’re here, of course. What can I do for you?” Sylvester replied

“I just came in to pick up a half dozen of something or other for my office. But I think I’ve spent way too much time dawdling – everything looks so good! Now I need to make a quick decision and get going. But joining you and your friends for the concert sounds great!”

It was then that Sylvester realized that he had personally heard Margie speak to him directly for the first time. Her voice, passionate, airy, confident, and direct. With her tone of voice combined with her words she had taken from Sylvester the heart of his hopes and sliced it open. He marveled that she actually remembered the geek from high school.

Sylvester had never felt like this before. To be stunned and uncertain of his next move or words. It was new to him. He had talked to many girls before, but Margie was different. Very different.

Guess what everyone else said was true,” he thought as he did his job in making some suggestions for her to purchase.  She selected six and he threw in a free “sample.”

The former volleyball player smiled in appreciation, paid, then popped on her sunglasses and left the young clerk speechless behind counter. His heart palpitated as he noted from her rear view that her hips were definitely wider. The strange new feeling had made him feel the most vulnerable he’s felt in years.

Sylvester walked into the bathroom, closed his eyes, and put his forehead to the mirror. The feeling of uncertainty was now consuming him, acting as the bane of his existence as he rehearsed their encounter. Why did he do that? Why did she do that? What made her respond like that?

He couldn’t fathom. All that he could figure was that he needed to shake this confusion off. He may have made a stupid decision even getting involved; if it didn’t work out he now deserved what he got. He looked himself in the mirror and decided to take what was coming to him like a man.

Margie for her part hastened back to the office and turned over the box to Ronnie Wheeler, the secretary who’d asked her to procure it. She couldn’t help but note that Cat’s pastries were more appealing than the cinnabon still weighing in her belly. She bit into the custard-filled sample and decided that they tasted better as well.

 That evening Cat was at his computer and decided to see if Margie had anything online. He was surprised to see her mentioning on Facebook going to the upcoming concert, then ventured into a chat room where he encountered a record of the following exchange:

------

         Melanie:  You’re going with Cat? That husky chef wanna-be from back at Adams High? 

            Margie: Sure, why not? He’s even got another pair of tickets so it will likely be a foursome.

            Melanie: Well if you two wind up hitting it off let me tell you one thing – to me it'll be

                       "Sylvester and Sweetie" instead of “Sylvester and Tweetie!"

            Margie: Hey, he's a bit shy I think, so let’s not jest about him. He’s not all that lean and

                      lanky, but who says that's crucial? He's at least tall like me, which is actually

                      a relief!  This is only a date for a concert I was locked out of otherwise.  Win-win

                      for both of us and I expect we'll enjoy it.

          Melanie: Tall, yeah, but over 200 easy. Guess you don’t mind.

           Margie: Well, I'm not exactly super-skinny myself any more  - my height works to an

                     advantage because I carry my weight well. Who knows? Maybe we'll share a

                     mutual interest in good food as well as music.

           Melanie: All-inclusive Margie, as usual. OK - you two have a good one. But watch out -

                    a guy like him could affect your waistline more than you suspect.

-----

"Cat, " aka Sylvester, looked at the exchange displayed on his screen with surprise. Not only had she known his name at the store, now she seemed to be somewhat on his side. But was Melanie's warning true - was Margie's figure in danger from him? He had no idea, but the mental picture of a larger Margie appealed to him.

Margie for her part was mostly amused rather than worried by Melanie's remark. She knew that she'd already added “a few pounds” since graduation; pastries at the office, bigger breakfasts and lunches along with less exercise she knew will do that. And there was the discussion between her mom and Sharon. With a more sedentary lifestyle in an office environment she knew she might pack on a few more. So what? It was only a year or so and her body could handle it. So far she still didn't care.

Looking at his computer screen Cat began to focus: “What time should I pick her up for the concert?”

[ and that, dear readers is where the parallel tale stops - the next three chapter are wholly new and will be posted after a pause of a few days for comments]

 

 

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It's Wonderful Writing. A fantastic plot with just Enough characters. Margie is a dream come true. And one who exists in real life. Just a look at Curvage'sCurvy Picture Compilation section and Laban and Manjolover and other entries Proves it. Some athletic girls who were "it " just don't worry. They gain 100 lbs. They double and even triple their weight. Margie is a Realistic character. Love this story 

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Amazing story! Very well written. I love how realistic Margie's gain is, and how real her personality is. I mean, it's true there are some girls who never had to diet or watch her weight, so that when they start accumulating some pounds they are oblivious or don't care too much. I know one of them very well, being my girlfriend.
I loved how Margie is neglectful about her own weight, while Melanie, being more weight conscious, is able to spot even small changes, bot on Margie's body and attitude towards food.
Should I try to find some flaws.. I would have preferred a bit more detailed description about how and where those pounds were accumulating, but I loved the part describing her no longer slender calves, going up to sturdy thighs and delectable rounder bottom.
I am very curious to see if Margie will realize all of a sudden she is getting fat (how it happens some times to this kind of girls), or if she is going to keep her naive attitude.

I am really looking forward to reading next chapters!
Really a good job!

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Chapter Four – The Ides of Change

It was shortly after seven in the morning. Jennie Copeland arrived for breakfast before her husband and son. She was not surprised to find that her oldest daughter had been up for over an hour preparing another of what Margie regarded as her “homemade and healthier breakfast” meals – spinach and mushroom quiche from Trader Joe’s accompanied by slices of turkey bacon plus oversized apple crumb muffins from Costco.

Jennie noted that her daughter was wearing her sweat pants rather than slacks or a skirt. It reinforced her opinion that Margie’s hips lately seemed a bit wider and her torso thicker – obviously having picked up well more than her estimated ten pounds over the preceding months.

The evening before Margie had topped off a salmon and baked potato supper with two scoops of ice-cream and strawberry topping. but Jennie had held her peace. Sharon and Bobby had followed suit. Her daughters’ weight gain didn’t especially bother her; in fact, a conversation with Margie regarding Sharon’s pride in the latter’s feelings about her gain she’d found interesting, but for the moment, like Melanie, her curiosity was piqued.  How aware was Margie of the changes in her expanding body?  She now decided to do some probing.

“Wow, darling, another restaurant style breakfast. You have really gotten into cooking it seems,” exclaimed Mrs. Copeland.

“Yes, but really today it is more out of box than cooked from scratch,” Margie half apologized.

“No matter, I’m sure it will be as great as ever,” her mom replied. “By the way, are your slacks sidetracked in the wash? I notice you’re wearing your sweatpants.”

“No, just a little slow getting started. I can get into my slacks but it’s some of my skirts that are fighting my butt. I’ve gained a few more pounds and may soon need to look into size 12. I’m not a high school teen anymore and I’m beginning to get an office worker’s figure,” she confided. “Like I’ve told Melanie, it’s not that much as yet but I need to adjust to facts. What the girls at the office like to call “belly fluff” is also spreading to my hips.”

“Oh sweetheart, you’re nowhere near Melanie’s size,” her mom responded defensively. “I was just being curious.  You may have added a few pounds but no one would call you overweight or fat.”

“Thanks,” smiled Margie, “I know that’s true, at least for the moment – but let me ask you: would it bother you if I were even larger and didn’t really mind it?”

“Darling, you’re our daughter and as long as you’re happy at any size your father and I will still love and accept you.  What makes you ask?” inquired her mom.

“Oh, I guess because I’ve read stories on the Internet abut families going bonkers over a daughter’s gaining a few pounds.  They just don’t seem to understand that being around food and resisting it just isn’t natural for some people.  I know my metabolism is changing but I enjoy eating and so far don’t mind the consequences.” Margie confided. “Its not like I’ve surpassed Bobby – at least for right now!”

Jennie Copeland initially was silent, struck both by her daughter’s frank statement and obvious desire for support.  Bobby in his younger years had been somewhat husky, even pudgy, and recently had seemed to again be picking up weight. Jennie attributed this to her son's working 12 hours a week in a local fast food restaurant with a meal allowance. She knew eating was indeed an instinct and weight gain tendencies to some degree hereditary. She also realized that Margie was now an adult and that her own role as a parent was over.  And frankly, not being especially slender herself, Jennie found she could understand and respect her daughter’s position.

 

‘Sweetheart,” Mrs. Copeland said softly, “I probably enabled you to gain some of your new pounds myself. I’m the one who got you doing breakfast. I’ve added a few pounds myself because they have been good. We both have to be responsible for our own choices. Who knows, you might just find a guy who appreciates a few curves.”

 

“Yes, like hopefully my date Friday,” Margie replied. “He has a reputation of having food as a hobby although it’s a concert we’re going to.”

Before her mom could reply Mr. Copeland and her siblings came in and it was time for breakfast.  Margie was her usual amiable self, not disclosing at the table what she privately now knew to be true. She was at 157 pounds, 22 pounds and a snug two sizes heavier for the year. She had now been reassured by her mom that it could be fifty pounds if she added that much and was happy with them.

Jennie also observed Sharon’s improved appetite. No way a year before would she have felt like eating an entire Costco muffin, a generous helping of quiche and two bacon slices – now it disappeared in less than twenty minutes. Bobby, always a healthy eater, followed her example. Afterwards Jennie smiled as she picked up on her earlier conversation with Margie.

“Well, your sister proved my point with that quiche and muffin,” she remarked after breakfast. “it seems her body and appetite have finally recovered to the point she eats like a normal teenager. But that leads to something I need to ask you about.

 

“Oh?” answered Margie.” What’s that?”

“Your sister has been buying food and cooking treats for the Lynch kids, but when it comes to supper she’s been ordering in. Now, after watching cooking channel shows she wants to start actually cooking,” Jennie explained.

“Does that mean you want her to do like I once did – make dishes with you on Sunday afternoon for use during the week?” inquired Margie.

“Actually she wants both of us to be her teachers – she likes your creativity and my nutrition instincts.  What she needs is to learn the basics, then go to trial and error.”

“Hmmm,” mused Margie. “Well, why not – we could call it the CCC – Copeland Culinary Co-op.”

Cat, aka Sylvester, of course knew nothing of Margie’s lifestyle changes, weight gain, wardrobe upgrade needs, or the discussion with her mom. Nor did he have a clue as to what had occurred at Margie’s office with the pastries from the scone shop. After clearing his head from the initial surprise of seeing the online dialogue between Margie and Melanie he had gone about making meetup arrangements for the couple joining them, Lyle Armstead and Anita Johnson. Then he’d texted her.

 

Cat: Start time is officially 8:00 – other two are Lyle and Anita. Hot dogs, pretzels, popcorn, candy and drinks for sale at the concert hall. They suggest we should meet at stadium around 7, find our seats, then get food. Should I pick you up 6:30?

 

Margie: Sounds like a plan – will be ready. BTW, your store makes great pastries – we ran out because people weren’t happy with just one; I’ve been asked to do an encore next week. Please think about suggestions.

 

Cat: Will do. Too bad it’s just a meeting with pastries – my own main culinary repertoire is wider.

 

Margie: How do you mean?

 

Cat: I study cuisines, also prepare some of them as a catering sideline. If exploring that topic has interest for you as much as the band you can ask me, but I’ll not push my exotica on you without prompting.

 

Margie: Interesting. I’m a bit of a foodie myself, especially because I get paid to do breakfasts. My sis has been expanding my horizons. We may have a common interest.  See you Friday.

 

Both Cat and Margie were left pondering the exchange. Margie the next day had the breakfast discussion with her mom and after work went out and spent $480 on clothes, mostly a loose and comfortable size 12.  For some reason she suddenly wanted to make a good impression on the shy nerd from Adams High School. 

Cat for his part was nervous but encouraged by the openness of her emails. Not being that experienced in dating he diligently reviewed first date protocols in the Internet and found something intriguing - a list of items on what to do regarding a first date’s parents.  One thought (in addition to being polite and coming to the door rather than honking - something Cat knew he would never do anyway) was to give them a small gift as an icebreaker. Cat thought this terrific and decided what he would bring – a small dozen piece gift box of Ferrero Rocher chocolate truffles for Mr. and Mrs. Copeland.

Both the senior Copelands and Margie were totally surprised at his reviving of what he creatively called an “old world custom.” Cat noticed Margie snapping a picture of his gift and attaching it to a text for someone, but held his peace

 

 

 

After a few moments with her parents Cat whisked Margie off to their rendezvous at the concert. There things went well, all four young adults devouring a couple of hotdogs along with drinks and a little popcorn, ignoring the pretzels and candy also available. The show ran until 11:00 and afterwards Lyle suggested they take in a local diner. 

 

After glancing at Margie for assent and getting a nod Cat asked where they should go.  Lyle responded by giving directions to the local Big Boy. Cat observed Margie sending a discreet text message but as before held his peace,

Cat and Margie had both presumed that Lyle was simply intending a sundae or pie slice as an end-of-evening treat, However, upon arrival they learned that their companions were actually thinking of a late supper including dessert with a full entrée.

“Well, the chicken alfredo with penne pasta does look good.,” opined Cat to Margie, sounding her out. “Do you think you would have room for it - or we could split a serving and have some of that special peanut butter pie.”

Margie reacted cautiously. She knew her new clothes were loose and it had been well over two hours since the hot dogs and popcorn. It hadn’t been that filling but she didn’t want to appear too aggressive about consuming food, especially on a first date. Still, she really did still have an appetite.

“Well, if they’re both having an entrée and dessert I guess it would be rude not to go along with the program,” she opined, noting in her mind that Anita was borderline chunky and could well be ready for dessert after the entree. “it’s not like I’m on a diet or anything.”

Cat smiled, “two Alfredos with penne it is then.”

After they placed their order Lyle remarked to Margie, “its good to see Cat having a date of the opposite sex for a change. Usually it’s he and Jim.”

“That’s just because we bowl together,” Anita explained. “I’ve tried to tell Lyle that whatever Jim’s orientation he and Cat aren’t a couple.”’

“What?” sputtered Margie, picking up on the implication. “Of course not!  I’ve known Cat since high school. I also knew those in the gay and lesbian groups. Some of them were really hard workers on student activities and became good personal friends, but Cat wasn’t ever part of that crowd. He was maybe regarded as the class computer geek and bookworm, but no one ever thought he wasn’t straight.”

Cat was initially slow in reacting to the heated exchange, which was totally unexpected, but recovered after a moment. “Honestly, you’re right. That’s not even an issue I’ve been concerned about one way or the other. I admit to being shy about dating but I’m no way gay!  How did that get started?”

“Guilt by association big guy,” said Anita. “Jim has his interests outside bowling and people jump to conclusions. But Jim is after all my brother and I’d be the first to know if there was anything going on – which is what I’ve tried to tell Lyle. “

“So a big misunderstanding has now been cleared up – and that’s a good thing,” stated Margie in her best conciliatory tone, “Tell you what, next time Jim’s not able to make it for bowling see if I’m available. It might surprise you what I can score, Volleyball isn’t my only sport.”

Cat marveled at his date’s take charge attitude and changing of the conversation’s direction, but before he could react further the food arrived. He noted with approval that Margie had no difficulty with her portion and even had an extra dinner roll. Unlike too many girls this self-confessed foodie wasn’t shy about indulging her appetite.

On their way home Margie remarked “I’m sorry you got broadsided tonight - hope you don’t mind my reacting so strongly to your defense.  That kind of teasing doesn’t fly for me.”

“Not at all,” replied Cat.  “It totally took me by surprise, but Anita is right - I’ve no interest in dating Jim or any guy.  We met online discussing catering and I’ve helped him do some parties and weddings – then he asked me to join Lyle and Anita for bowling and I agreed, but it’s just surface socializing.”

Margie nodded her agreement, allowing him to continue.

“You, on the other hand, are another subject. I hope you might enjoy being taken to a place a little better than Big Boy with me next Saturday night – like, to be specific, the Cheesecake Factory?”

“Wow!“ replied Margie, reacting with both piqued interest and some surprise to the abrupt change of topic. She was feeling quite stuffed and not at all thinking of food. But she’d not been doing much socializing since graduating and she wasn’t opposed to going out.

Recovering quickly, she responded positively.  “I went there once for a celebration - and yes, it would be great going there again.  But don’t forget that I’ll be dropping by on Monday to pick up the office meeting goodies as well.”

“Oh, I’ve not forgotten,” acknowledged Cat.  “Scone City is really a gourmet pastry shop, as you know from dropping in.  It has a wide variety - cookies, muffins, eclairs, profiteroles, bear claws, Danish, even whole grain fruit bars. You got a dozen last time – was that enough?”

“Ummm, actually with nine people in the office sharing there was grumbling that not everyone could have a second piece.  Why don’t you pick out a random 18,” suggested Margie. “Some may not want two, but I’m sure that any extras will be taken care of.”

Cat smiled and nodded. Having seen her appetite in action he suspected Margie, the self-defined foodie, might be a candidate for doggie-bagging any uneaten pastries, but held his peace. He would have smiled at Margie’s final text message later to Melanie before retiring: 

Margie Good concert, good food afterwards, basis of possible new great friendship – to be seen. Cheesecake at the Factory next week. Yum! Nuf sed. 

Melanie, upon reading it mid-morning of the next day, thought to herself, “I suspected as much – the Cat is finally getting his canary, and she’ll likely be very well fed. At least she seems happy.”

 

 

 

 

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Chapter Five – Intervention

Margie slept a solid nine hours, awaking to a deserted house, her hand idly caressing the lower part of her round abdomen.  The solitude was expected – she knew both her parents and siblings would be gone by nine o’clock; it was now close to ten.

She realized she must have been dreaming, but couldn’t remember what had been causing her hand to massage her belly. What she did know was that she wasn’t yet hungry for breakfast and that the gentle massaging had felt good. After half-attempting her normal calisthenics routine, which had become increasingly less intense over the past several months, Margie eased her way into the bathroom, dropped her nightgown and stepped into the shower. 

The house was relatively warm, around 72 degrees, and she luxuriated in standing naked in front of the medicine cabinet mirror while first drying off, then combing her long dark silken hair. Then she decided to match an aqua heather chamois top with a pair of navy blue slacks. The combination seemed quite accommodating to what she regarded as her still adequately slender waist, which she knew to now be around 30 inches, which most would call plump.

Going downstairs to the kitchen around 10:30 she still didn’t have much of an appetite, so instead began a load of laundry while watching an old movie on Netflix. It was after 11:00 that she got a text from Melanie:

         Melanie:  you up sleepyhead?

         Margie: actually nearly two hours – shower over, laundry done, lounging in front of tv.

           Melanie: No breakfast?

         Margie: not hungry when I got up, but now???

           Melanie: If you can furnish drinks and dessert I can supply homemade subs in an hour

           Margie: Can do.12:30?

         Melanie: Done. See you

Margie brewed some tea and poured it over a pitcher of ice, adding Stevia for sweetener and put it in in the refrigerator. As she began to put out the platter of oatmeal cookies from a package she noticed an unopened bag of potato chips and thought it might be a good accompaniment for the subs.

As promised Melanie arrived from next door on time with a hamper containing not two but four full size pastrami and turkey subs loaded with lettuce, tomato, pickles, sliced onion and two kinds of cheese plus a large bowl of macaroni salad. She noticed that the softness she’d observed in her friend’s formerly taut abdomen had developed extra padding, now forming a genuine starter belly. Margie was wearing a loose-fitting peach colored top with black Lycra spandex pants that defined her stomach bulge like a small pillow.

“Knew you’d be hungry with no breakfast,” Melanie chirped. “I didn’t have mine either.”

Margie wondered if she was up to devouring two subs, but had to smile and acknowledge that they were appealing. Her fat best friend came from a family of large people who had always felt homemade was better than fast-food and she wasn’t going to fuss.

“Tea’s ready – and we have cookies plus chips to round out the menu,” she replied.

Both girls dove in, Margie slowing down halfway into her second sub. Along the way Melanie shared aspects of her job caring for preschoolers at a day care center while eliciting details of Margie’s date with Cat, noting with some curiosity that it was Lyle rather than Sylvester who’d initially pushed the eating of the late night supper.

“I’m glad to hear about the Cheesecake Factory,” she remarked. “My Jason has taken me there twice in the last two years, but as you know I’m pretty big so we have to be careful. He’s happy just letting me eat what I crave and never pushes me to have more. But both his eyes and his words tells me what he thinks – beauty comes in all sizes, just depends on what one chooses to call attractive.”

Margie nodded. Her friend, like her own sister Sharon, was 5’7’ but was probably pushing 240 – a difference of well over 100 pounds plus a score. Melanie had been fat all her life, accepting of it because for her it was normal. Her entire family was larger and notably happy and close, not to mention successful in several areas. Melanie’s long-time boyfriend, Jason Wheeler, obviously liked bigger girls, which Margie didn’t raise an eyebrow over. She’d read that 3-4% of men were hardwired that way, just as some people were genetically predisposed to be larger.

“Eating like we are right now isn’t exactly low calorie either,” noted Margie. “You and my mom have both commented on my change of late.  And yes, I’ve gained over twenty pounds.”

“True enough, but you’re still within the normal range for your height, just softer than the old Margie.” Melanie commented reassuringly. “My concern as one who’s been in the fat lane all her life is whether you’re ready for what’s possibly coming – but you’ve heard that from me already. I’m just happy Cat wasn’t pushing you.”

“Why, what do you mean?” inquired Margie.

“Despite what your mom and I may have said, all you really have now isn’t much - mostly some soft party chub covering your abs. No sane person would call you really fat as yet – certainly not me with my own 250-pound beach ball belly,” commented Melanie. “But I’m concerned about what happens as it keeps going – and I’ve read enough stuff to know where the path you’re on frequently leads.”

“Like what? I’m a little thick now instead of being on the low side of average for my height like it was all through high school? As you’ll I hope recall someone once thought I was anorexic.  Why? Simply because I was skimping on breakfast and skipping lunch. It wasn’t true - I was just too busy with other things and would grab a bite when I got home,” answered Margie.

”Yes, that entire episode was ridiculous, I agree,” acknowledged Melanie. “I knew that you’d even shared toasted cheese sandwiches with me even though I’d already had two meals earlier in the day – which you will recall I told Vice-Principal Gallagher. I’m the one who’s always been bigger and felt natural about it – even in first grade I drew human bodies with circles instead of as stick figures.  Bigger is better was my mental picture then and still is. But that’s me, not most people. “

“Oh? Well, I don’t recall how I drew pictures but my own mental picture might surprise you, Mel. Frankly I’ve frequently desired to eat more than I usually took time for. The reason I didn’t was because my head was full of so much and I felt driven by the clock. Now it’s different. The change you and Mom talk about is happening already! But I’ll let you in on a little secret - I’m both aware and comfortable with it; believe it or not,” Margie declared. “Can you believe I was personally scouting out Scone City on its merits as a provider for the office and simply stumbled onto Cat working there? My gaining had been going on for months before simply because I’m having to take time to cook and appreciate food. I don’t really have any problems with my new body bountiful.”

“Sure, and right now it’s not much larger than before and, truthfully, probably looks better. You were never a stick but now you have a healthier glow. That said I know the possible next stage and it does worry me even though it’s not my business,” Melanie confided. “After a while not only will your belly have become rounder but so also your butt, thighs and arms. It will probably be gradual and it won’t seem like much because it will be so gradual. But as you transition what do you think eventually can happen?”

“Oh, people, even some you may not even know, start making remarks and you have to tell them to bug off and mind their own business?“ responded Margie, thinking of her friend Sandra. “We have some chubsters where I work that I’ve seen having had to deal with that.  It’s so immature and the jerks that do that are just being smartasses.”

“Swell, sure. And if you can genuinely respond with confidence without being made to feel guilty, hurt and filled with self-doubt about being bigger it’s all good.  But the likelihood is that there will be a parallel path,” noted Melanie.

“And that is?” probed Margie.

“You’ll initially go along rationalizing and being in denial about your true size relative to everyone else. Telling others to shut up it and mind their own business really changes nothing. There’s a sequence in becoming a full figured woman. You usually slowly move from being a little thick to becoming definitely plump to morphing into an out and out butterball (like me). Then, when you finally realize where you are, a fork in the road comes: You either embrace your new minority persona or try to lose. If you try the second path most discover that they can’t; they’re locked into being in the fat lane forever.”

“Like you and most of your family?” observed Margie

“Yes, in a way.  Difference is, I’ve grown up with and was told in advance what would be coming if I got bigger. I made a choice with my fork a long time ago. Frankly I both like food generally and occasionally enjoy over-stuffing myself to the bursting point. No way anyone with those kind of priorities can be size six, or even sixteen. I even play with and love my fat – most girls my size don’t,” declared Melanie. “That’s why I’m different than you.”

“Well, you’re right in part. I’m not quite that pro-fat but I have never seen myself as model-thin either. I think I could be quite happy at size 18, 200 pounds, especially with a supportive husband. Neither your dad or mine seem to mind their BBW-class wives,” noted Margie.

“Yes, although mine bests yours by probably 80 pounds,” replied Melanie. “But remember, I have Jason and know his preference – your Cat likes food, but is he also into the probable long-term supersize results? Who knows?  I like you Margie, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.  That’s why I was happy about what you related concerning Lyle.”

“Huh, what do you mean,” queried Margie.

“It was him, rather than Cat, being the one to push food, which was encouraging – Cat’s apparently not the type who fattens a girl, then drops her,” responded Melanie. “It truly was your choice what you did by going along with Lyle, not Cat pushing things. But then for the second date he’s taking you to the Cheesecake Factory while supplying your office with goodies? I’m still concerned that he could be subtly playing you.”

“Concern duly noted,” said Margie, “but the relationship has barely started. Meanwhile look at what we’re doing without any pushing from Jason or Cat. You and I have finished two subs plus chips and most of the macaroni. Probably 1500+ calories and we have the cookies to go. Neither of them even know what we’ve been doing. What does that say about the two of us?”

“After what I’ve just unloaded on you that’s how you feel?” her friend answered with some surprise. “I guess maybe I need to back off.  It seems that we both like eating, as I’ve noted so apparently Sharon is. If you don’t care about the dangers to your waistline yet, then I suppose I shouldn’t. It’s just that you’ve gained more in nine months than I ever have in an entire year --- then Cat pops up and suddenly takes notice.  Probably we need to just have those cookies and get on with our day.”

Both girls shared the cookie platter equally and then cleaned up, Margie quietly mulling over Melanie’s words.  She was gaining rapidly, but it wasn’t to please anyone but herself, that she knew. If Cat, like Jason, liked bigger girls along with being somewhat husky himself that wasn’t a bad thing in her eyes.  As for Sharon?  Well, despite gaining twenty pounds she was still under normal weight for her height, actually somewhat of a twig to the two fuller-figured friends. But Margie knew Sharon and Bobby with both into late evening grazing – and Bobby’s belly was definitely growing.  Although two inches shorter he would be bigger than her for some time to come.

After Melanie left Margie was again faced with an empty house. She ambled about, finishing the laundry and taking a nap instead of going to the late matinee. She recognized the need to let her sub-conscious mind process what she’d heard that day.

Recalling Melanie’s remarks about round circles in childhood stick-figure drawings Margie was a bit pensive. She decided that maybe later she’d ask her mom about the features of her own pre-school artwork.

 

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Chapter Six – Getting to know you

Both Cat and Margie were nervous – Cat because he had impulsively blurted out the suggestion of the Cheesecake Factory without thinking through the implications, Margie because for some reason she uncharacteristically wanted to make a good impression on someone instead of just accepting and getting to know them.

For this second date Cat brought no present for Margie’s parents – no need to gild the lily. He hoped both they and she trusted his character without really knowing that much about his full range of interests.  He hoped to share his love of food with Margie, but knew that in time she would need to know more.

Margie initially was just as cautious, thinking seriously of curbing her true appetite in favor of something like the factory’s bar-b-q ranch chicken salad. The poultry with avocado, tomato, grilled corn, black beans, cucumber and romaine all tossed with a barbeque ranch dressing and topped with crispy fried onion strings for crunch she knew to be a zesty meal.

Cat preempted Margie’s thoughts by suggesting an appetizer of Thai lettuce wraps.  His extolling of the create -your-own dish as they drove to the restaurant was designed to stimulate her appetite while diverting attention from himself. The picture of Satay chicken strips, carrots, bean sprouts, coconut curry noodles and lettuce leaves being combined with three delicious spicy Thai sauces proved more than enough to persuade Margie,

“A pre-meal like this might force me to take the entrée home in a box,” she remarked.

“Fine by me,” Cat replied. “with a chicken salad I’ll probably go with hibachi steak – although don’t be surprised if i switch signals and go with the pan-seared Thai glazed coconut and cashew salmon to match the Thai sauce on the salad.”

“What is this,” inquired Margie, “do you study the menu in advance?”

“Weird maybe, but yes,” replied Cat. “Actually when I get the chance I like to prepare it for someone privately and make changes. I’m a half way decent amateur chef, not just a baker.”

“Obviously.., “ answered Margie. “My focus has been on breakfasts but now my mom has me working with her and my sister on dinners – nothing that exotic though.”

“Its why I do catering with Jim – it’s a chance to indulge a hobby,” commented Cat. “And you make some money.  Would you like to join in if the occasion arises?”

“I might,” she replied. “Give me a call. Meanwhile, I just hope I have room for the food tonight without ruining your wallet.”

Cat smiled. “I brought enough cash to cover anything on the menu – please don’t worry about that!”

The meal went well, with both Cat and Margie using carry home bags to allow for the splitting of a dessert. Margie found herself talking at length about Sharon’s emergence, the impact of her brother’s new job on his waistline, Sandra’s career with Larry and her own ambivalence towards life. She wanted to stop talking about herself but Cat kept prompting her and seemed to hang on every word. Unlike her mom or Melanie not a word of comment passed his lips about her own weight, which she found intriguing.

Finally she had to get a comment out of him, so she asked directly” “OK, so my best friend is fat and happy and my sister is no longer in danger of being called anorexic, my husky brother is growing and I have a coworker whose husband likes her bigger – but what about me? Surely you can tell I’m bigger than I was in school. And you must realize that eating like this it’s not likely to stop – how does that make you feel?”

“Margie,” Cat said quietly, “whether you realize it or not I’ve known and admired a lot more about you for years than you ever acknowledged. Your size complements the entire picture, to be sure, I’ll not deny that, but I think you need to take a look and give yourself credit for your entirety. I feel you should let yourself be as big as you’re comfortable with and let any man in your life give you that freedom of choice. I know that’s my goal.  OK?

Margie looked in Cat’s face and saw its sincerity. As they gathered their doggie bags she had no comeback and simply said, “you’re right - and thank you.  Does this mean I can help you with a catering gig?.”

“Of course,” Cat answered.  “but now I think I need to risk rejection and make a fuller disclosure.  There is another area of my life than food I’d like to share with you - and it’s not for discussion with your friends, at least not until you know fully what I’m referring to.”

“What are you talking about,” asked a baffled Margie,

“You nailed it earlier. A Scone City baker going to community college can’t easily pop for a cheesecake factory dinner and be driving a fully paid for late model car.  Obviously I have another source of income, which I assure you is all perfectly legal.  But in fairness I need to share it with you – if you’ll promise to keep it between us unless I give permission.  It has zero to do with food.”

“Can I tell my parents?” she asked.

“Once you know I would actually call it wise for you to ask your Dad have what I tell you checked out so you’ll know independently that I’ve told the truth – I think he will immediately understand why it has to be kept confidential and he can certainly tell your Mom. Its Sharon, Bobby and Michele and your co-workers that I’m mostly concerned about.”  Cat answered. “But that’s getting ahead of things. For a special sneak preview, can you get away from your house and meet me tomorrow around 11:00 after you’ve had breakfast?)”

“Why not pick me up?” Margie asked.

“Because when you next see me I’ll be wearing some very different clothes and driving a different vehicle, not one that Sylvester the Cat should be connected to.  I know that sounds mysterious, but you’ll understand. If you want to ask Sandy and Larry to come along as chaperones, fine, but not Margie or Sharon and for now not your parents.  You’ll understand why and your Dad will get it quick enough as well.  OK?”

Margie placed a quick call to Sandy, who was just going to bed with her husband.  Intrigued, they agreed to pick Margie up and go wherever within reason Cat wished.

The next day Cat texted Margie an address, asking her and her friends to be there by 11:00. It turned out to be the parking area of a local stadium where a car show was in progress.  As soon as they got there and alighted a modified stock car rumbled up and came to a halt. The driver popped his helmet – it was Cat.

“Here are three tickets,” he said. “I’ll be part of what happens around 12:45 – now go enjoy and we’ll talk later.”

With that he was gone. Beginning at 12:00 the two-hour show began with music and awards for various classes of cars on exhibit. Then at 12:40 four stock cars rumbled onto the field and began driving in sync, hubcaps sometimes only a foot aoat.  After about five minutes two of the vehicles peeled off and went to either end of two facing ramps; one of the cars Margie recognized as the one Cat had been driving in the parking area.

Facing out from the ramps both vehicles tore half way around the stadium track, turning onto the opposing ramp at a dizzying speed, apparently risking collision.  However, they instead each passed one another in mid-air about twenty feet apart and landed squarely on the lip of the opposing ramp to the applause of the audience.

Cat, Margie suddenly realized, was apparently a pretty skilled stunt driver, but her heart felt like it was in her throat.  The four cars continued for another five minutes in various choreographed patterns, finally leaving he field.

Thirty minutes later Cat, now in regular clothing, joined the trio in the stands.  He flashed a broad grin and looked sheepishly at Margie. “Now you hopefully understand. Celebrity entertainers have to keep their identities private or they either get a reputation for indifference or are inundated by fans. Sorry if I scared you at all.”

Margie was silent.

“Can I treat you all to lunch,” Cat continued.

“I think that would be a capital idea,” Larry replied.

At a local bistro Margie eased carefully into the booth, suddenly self-consciously aware that her developing mini-pot belly was peeking from under her slightly short loose fitting yellow chiffon style blouse. It was an awkward wardrobe malfunction caused by her wearing of a bra two sizes larger that better supported the top, causing it to ride higher than intended. If Cat noticed he gave no indication.

Sandy had no such difficulties, but smiled understandingly. It was Larry who spoke first abut the day's events after everyone placed their orders, inquiring “you can only have had a driver’s license for 2-3 years. I’m surprised at your skill level.”

“Licenses are only needed for public roads.  The other drivers were other family members and I started as an apprentice at age 12 – then took my Uncle’s place at 16 without yet having my regular license. Most of what we do is precision formation work for auto commercials, not the dare devil stuff,” Cat answered. “But it does pay well.”

“We emphasize safety – believe it or not. Both of the flying cars have special shocks and the ramps are slightly angled to prevent impacts – all we really need to do is gun the engine hard enough to make it to the lip - but the audience can’t tell that. What we don’t need are groupies expecting us to drag on the Interstate – they don’t have the training and besides, it’s illegal.” Cat declared.

“And you’ve suggested I should have my dad investigate you.  Why?” Margie asked.

“He’ll find we’ve been doing this for three generations and probably discover why I’m not in a four-year college. 2-3 times a month we can be anywhere – Poconos, Ontario, Miami – sometimes for 3-4 days. And if anyone here blabs to the media and they contact our agent what you saw today, including our eating here, didn’t happen They’ll be told that identities of the team are confidential; they will neither confirm or deny any reports. Instead, let your Dad’s snoops check things out and believe their report.  I just hope we can continue seeing one another”

Margie felt confused – she was still a bit upset over being scared out of her wits but understood the logic.

“Well,” she said, self-consciously tugging her top down over her bulging belly, “I did choose to have lunch rather than be taken home didn’t I?  Let’s give me time to adjust and I’ll probably adapt. It’s not like you’re an astronaut in danger of being marooned in space.”

At Sandra and Larry’s suggestion they all had dessert, with Margie quietly watching Cat's reaction to her stuffing herself.  Still being upset she felt like eating, and wondered what his reaction would be, but he gave no clue.

When she got home Margie told her father what had occurred and Cat’s suggestion. She also gave him an envelope Cat said contained information that might prove useful. Cat obviously expected Mr. Copeland to follow through. On Thursday her father suggested having Cat over for dinner Friday evening, an invitation Cat readily accepted.

He arrived dressed neither as a student or car driver, but in a suitcoat and tie.  Margie, dressed in a loose fitting knee-length floral pattern sundress that quite unintentionally emphasized the fullness of her torso, found this strange. Even stranger, she thought, that her Dad was wearing his tie to dinner as well. Cat’s eyes were drawn to her fulsome figure and he smiled, saying nothing about her outfit.

No mention was made during the meal of the investigation they all had in the back of their minds because of Margie’s two siblings being present, but certain of her Father’s probing questions and Cat’s seemingly ready responses told Margie something was going on that both men were fully aware of but she wasn't..  The meal itself was chicken alfredo with mashed potatoes and vegetables, prepared by Ms. Copeland and Sharon. Sharon and Bobby both ate with gusto while the others chatted.

After the meal, including dessert, her Dad suggested that his wife, Cat and Margie should join him in the den. Bobby and Sharon looked at one another quizzically, but took the hint and retired.

“Well,” he began, “you asked to be checked out. I am happy to report that you are living a somewhat surprising but honorable double life as you claimed to Margie.”

Turning to Margie he said, “Everything he told you I'm told checks out.”

He looked straight at Cat and smiled. “If the point of this effort is to have our approval to date our daughter, you have it. You are in my and her mother’s opinion totally trustworthy”

Cat looked at Mr. Copeland and smiled back, “I thank you sir. I am happy your investigators were as through in their job as I knew they would be working for someone in your position.”

Margie again sensed an undercurrent. “Am I missing something here between you two?  This seems like you’re leaving something out.”

“I suspect your father’s investigators followed up on all leads they had time for and he is choosing to not share certain things here so that we can simply be young people developing a relationship,” answered Cat. “He knows, and he likely knows that I know, that there’s more than stage name games in their dossier. My family has other assets and activities concerning which I’m not personally involved at this time but he now knows about – as evidenced by a number of questions at the dinner table tonight. Do I speak correctly, Mr. Copeland?”

“You do – and thank you for not being offended by my allowing the probing to go where it did,” her father replied.

“Both I and my family would have been disappointed if they had done anything less than a thorough job. The envelope you were supplied had obvious clues,” Cat remarked. “They had to be explored.”

“Including the fact that members of Cat’s family owns two of the largest clients of my firm and he could someday conceivably be in a position to be telling me what to do as a vendor,” her father remarked.

“Pure idle speculation – which to occur would require a pack of assumptions to be in place which at this point aren’t even being discussed, believe me,” replied Cat. “There are at least three other family members on that management development track right now that both my own Father and I agree I don’t need to be on – its not my ambition and they have the fire in their belly. And none of them are thinking about telling your firm what to do – you do that quite well as is and deserve to go on doing it your way.”

“Wait a minute – I think I’m finally getting this,” interrupted Margie. “Two strong families send their kids to public rather than private school to prevent them from being spoiled elitists. Now they find their kids getting involved with one another anyway, independent of the parents, and so boundaries are having to be defined?”

Cat stood. “Mr. and Mrs. Copeland, I think everyone has been thoroughly outed; now Margie should be given some alone time with me. I’m sure she has a few questions that need answering. Would you agree?”

Mr. Copeland also stood.  “Quite so, and, as I said, with my and her mother’s blessing.”

    

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Chapter Seven - Working Together

Bobby followed his older sister’s lead and retired to the family room. Once there both well-fed Copeland teens collapsed into comfortable chaise lounge chairs, Sharon immediately glancing at her bulging stomach.

“Wow,” she exclaimed. “I guess that’s what they call having a ‘food baby.’”

“Yeah,” he replied. ”Thin as you are that would probably be it, For me being stuffed is just seen as an expanded gut because the paddings already there.”

“You still think I’m thin?” Sharon replied. “I’m up over twenty pounds from last year, which I why I wore a camisole to supper. I know I’m starting to thicken but it has its benefits and I’m not caring.”

“Which means you’re no longer a twig, but yeah, compared to Margie you’re still thin,” answered her brother. ”Haven’t you noticed that now she’s even getting padding on her upper body. She must be close to catching up with me! Even with another thirty pounds you’d not be our size. – and you know I’m big.”

Sharon massaged her belly and nodded her head. “True, and this food baby will be gone by tomorrow. I know that – but I am getting a bust and hips finally, so I can put up with some thicker thighs and a little belly I think.”

Bobby grinned. “So then you’re not in denial; you have noticed the details.”

“Of course, Mom’s had to buy me new clothes twice, but seems happy to see me eating more. And frankly I’m enjoying both the cooking and the eating,“ Sharon answered. “Margie and I are on the same page- not deliberately gaining but not fighting it either.  Its just that tonight I think I overdid it a bit.”

“Well, our guest wasn’t bothered by it – and obviously Margie’s weight isn’t an issue for him. He’s the one who asked her to have Dad to check him out – although I don’t know why,” Bobby said.

“He’s got too much money for a part time employee student,” Sharon answered. “Margie knows the real answer but says she’s sworn to secrecy, at least till Dad checks it out. Rather cloak and dagger if you ask me.”

”I suppose,” Bobby replied, “but I think I heard the door to the study opening, so we may know more soon.”

Seconds later Mrs. Copeland appeared. “We’re through talking with Margie and Sylvester, now they’re leaving for a while. Would you two like to play cards with your Father and I?”

Bobby and Sharon looked at one another. Was this their parent’s way of leading into a report on the hush-hush discussion.

“OK” chirped Sharon. pulling herself up out of the comfortable lounge chair.

“I guess me too,” replied Bobby, following his sister’s lead.

 * * * * * * *

Cat escorted Margie to his car and courteously opened the door.  She got inside. Neither had said much of anything after her father had ended the meeting and the silence persisted for several minutes after they were in the road.

“Where are we headed?” Margie finally asked.

“A wide cul de sac in the hills, no traffic but a spectacular view of the city below,” he replied. “It’s a good place for quiet meditation and private talks because no one can build houses on it due to landside risks,”

“I take it there is more about you to share,” she probed.

“Call it filling in the gaps,” Cat answered. “Short version: My extended family has many business interests and a fair amount of money, but we try to be private. That’s why my parents, like yours, had me go through public schools – they didn’t want spoiled brats with no taste of how the majority of the world lives.  But I suspect you never felt quite in place there, any more than I did. Am I right?”

“I guess. I did what was expected and was respected, but didn’t really see that I belonged either. It’s like I wasn’t bad but I was different and sensed it,” she acknowledged. “It’s still that way.”

“Yes, I was one of the brainy nerds but big enough to be respected rather than bullied, But I’ve always known who I really was - I just couldn’t share because if I told the truth few would believe it and if they did they still wouldn’t understand,” Cat said with a hint of sadness,

“Meaning?” Margie said. “Certainly you were having fun with your car stunts.”

Cat grinned: “That is a hobby. You will recall my assuring your Dad that my father and I agree that I don’t need to be running any of the family businesses – although no doubt I could. That’s not a put down - its because my heart is in something else that I do better.”

“Not your cooking.” Margie said.

“Nope, that’s just another hobby that provides cover.” Cat said. “I’m a natural talent profiler and enabler – and there’s no college course given for that. Call it a sixth sense but I seem able to match up many people’s talents and interests with things they can make a career of, assuming they have certain basic character traits.”

“And those are?”

“Apart from specific skills and aptitudes? Honesty, caring, loyal and responsible. Too many people are focused principally on acquiring wealth, power and fame, which should never be main motivators because they corrupt basic values.” Cat related.

“You sound like a philosopher or minister,” observed Margie as Cat parked the car and cut the lights. The view, as promised was spectacular.

“Everyone has a philosophy if they think about it, and ministers serve spiritual needs – nothing wrong with that. But profilers/enablers are more pragmatic. They’re like birddogs who help entrepreneurs recruit talent – whether its volunteers for a school or community activity or workers for a company. we somehow see other’s hearts.  Yours, by the way, is very special – whether or not you actively know it,”

Something inside Margie stirred She’d seen frequently seen latent potential in others herself and always hoped for them to wake up and use it.  Did Cat know of this sixth sense?  And if so, how?

Cat seemed to pick up her thoughts.

“Most parents, most teachers, for that matter most friends want others to be happy, free of problems and successful, But they’re not really able to tell what combination of circumstances will create that life for others much less facilitate it. No one can. These things are the result of choices individuals make. But you can make it possible for suitable individuals having the opportunity to make the right choice, then hope they do it,

“And you do that?” Margie enquired.

“When its feasible – not everyone has the character and I don’t always know of a suitable opportunity, at least not immediately,” answered Cat, “but it does happen, and if I were tied down to an 8-5 career it wouldn’t. That’s why I’m best as a free agent.”

“And my Dad knows all this?” she said

“Not quite the way I’ve shared it with you - but the externals, yes,” Cat continued. “Whether you care to live that kind of life clandestinely helping others is an option for you that suits your character and aptitudes – but the choice is yours. I’m hoping you’ll let us jointly try a few cases before you decide one way or the other, I can promise that you’ll have ample opportunity to indulge your palette along the way.

“There is a connection between food and life choices?” Margie said.

“Yes,” Cat replied, “but that gets rather deep. The question is whether your love of food and interest in helping others become the best they can be will combine to give you fulfillment.  Only by trying it will you know the answer.”

“But you’re predicting it will be yes I suppose? “she said.

“I’ve felt that for years, yes. But in school you were surrounded by others and were it seemed unreachable. Now you are and we’re here,” answered Cat.

“Do those we help know what we’re doing?” she asked.

“Not if I can help it,” replied Cat. “Its better that they follow their own inner voice. To them we’re just friends responding to them to reinforce their own feelings.”

“Its all so mysterious – like you suggest maybe we need to do a few examples before I commit long term,” Margie said.

“Wise course and thank you,” Cat said as he turned on the ignition.

* * * * * *

Back at the Copeland’s the family played two games of rummy. interspersed with remarks from the Parents about Cat and Margie. 

Mr. Copeland informed the younger siblings that Cat might be coming around more and be involved in family outings. If that indeed proved to be the case, they shouldn’t probe or tease Margie about the relationship but let her volunteer what she chose to at her discretion.  

Mrs. Copeland noted that Margie intended to invite Cat to help with Sunday cooking instruction, which caused Sharon to brighten up. Bobby noted that this was Sharon’s typical reaction of late to anything food-centered and wondered just how long her food baby paunch would only be occasional.

When she got home Margie gave her parents a kiss, then retired to her room. She then called Melanie and shared her parent’s support of she and Cat’s relationship. Melanie expressed support while reminding her of their prior conversation, which Margie acknowledged and promptly shoved aside.

As for Cat, he upon getting home sent Margie a text thanking her for the dinner and her willingness to explore the future.  She responded in kind and both went to bed wondering what the future would hold.

 

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