The Weight of It All

by N.R. Walker

Ten minutes later my phone rang. It was Reed’s number. I wanted to answer it. I wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice. I wanted to make him laugh, I wanted to touch him like the other people had touched him. I wanted to tell him how proud I was of him for winning today, and I wanted more than anything to have our non-date tonight. But I’d had a sharp reality check today, and my heart was hurting, and my ego was in a dark corner somewhere, licking its wounds.

When I put the spoon in my mouth and tasted the passionfruit gelato, I moaned like a two-dollar whore. I couldn’t even be embarrassed because Reed let out a low breath. “Jesus, Henry. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“You ready for this?” “Not at all. And just so you know, I want “Staying Alive” played at my funeral. You know, for irony and laughs.”

“Anika is like my twin. We think the same. And Melinda… well, don’t let the innocent schoolgirl look fool you. She’s secretly a mathematical genius ninja and can kill four different ways with chopsticks.”

“Only got the bridge to go.” I looked over at the Iron Cove Bridge, the bridge I’d driven over countless times, and noticed for the first time what connected the path to the bridge itself. “Oh are you fucking kidding me? Stairs?” Reed grinned. He fucking grinned. “Come on. You’ve got this, Henry.”

Let me be clear about something. My contentment did not come from weight loss. It came from accepting myself, and that was something Reed had taught me to differentiate.

If anyone was pissed about not being there to witness the most epic proposal ever, they needn’t have worried. It was on the front page of the Sun-Herald, under the title “He Said Yes!” Well, of course I did. He was everything to me. He encouraged me; he challenged me. He was my Thor in public, my Loki in the bedroom. He was the perfect balance for me. He was my true counterweight. Like I said. Perfect.