Here the Whole Time

by Vitor Martins

It was something I did just for me. I was afraid of what the other boys might think of me if they found out that when I went underwater, in my head I was Ariel. And that deep at the bottom of the pool, I kept my imaginary collection of forks, mirrors, and thingamabobs.

I could never lose enough weight in three days to fit into a dress, so I eat my dinner sending positive vibes to the bride on TV.

I say suddenly, without any context, because I have the social skills of a cheese grater.

Before I head back to my room, I spot Caio’s book on the coffee table. He spent the entire morning reading The Fellowship of the Ring, and the bookmark is still in the same spot, almost at the very end of the book. It’s official. He’s determined to reread the end of this book forever, just so he won’t have to talk to me. And I can’t let that happen. I run to my bookshelf, grab my copy of The Two Towers, and place it right next to Caio’s book. My book is way more beat-up than his. It’s an old edition that my grandma gave to me, but I think it’ll do the job. He might not want to talk to me, but he can at least know how the story continues. I go back to my room in silence, and this time I leave the door open.

It’s a fantasy novel about a girl who was raised like any other person until, on her seventeenth birthday, she discovers she has special powers and a mysterious past. Now shit’s hitting the fan all throughout the kingdom, and everyone’s future lies in the hands of this girl who doesn’t know how to control her powers and doesn’t even try to learn how to. Have you ever read a book like this? Because I’ve read about fifteen.

Because fat is the kind of word people try to hide, no matter the cost. Everyone says “chubby” or “big boned,” but never “FAT.” Fat is a word you can never take back. When you declare something, even if it’s obvious to everyone already, it becomes real.

It’s really bad to be the person who always has to wait for an answer because other people are being careful with their words. I feel fragile, and I hate feeling that way.

“Hello, deary,” she says, and I crack a smile because I’ve never heard anyone call someone deary before. The two of them start talking and I can’t hear all of it because Melissa’s voice is really soft. I can only gather what Becky is saying because apparently she wasn’t born with the ability to whisper. The conversation goes more or less like this: Becky: “It’s just us here; there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Melissa: “Ssshh shhs shhsshh shhs sh.” Becky: “I just want to enjoy the day with you.” Melissa: “Shh shsh shhhhs sh.” Becky: “You are the most beautiful girl in the world!” Melissa: “Shhhhhh.” Becky: “I mean it, woman.” Melissa: “Fine.” And then Melissa gets up, having been convinced to go into the water. She takes off her flip-flops but then hesitates before taking off her little beach dress. (What are those things called, anyway?) All of a sudden, she takes it off in one sweeping motion and starts walking toward the pool. And then I see why she didn’t want to take off her clothes. Melissa is wearing a one-piece, but it can’t cover her entire body. Her shoulders are covered in acne and scars from acne that was once there. Her ribs stick out against her swimsuit, as if the suit were covering a birdcage. And in the middle of her breasts I can see a long vertical scar. Melissa doesn’t dive into the pool like Becky and Caio did. She enters the pool slowly, using the little stairs that almost nobody ever uses, and grimaces when her body comes in contact with the cold wate...

I feel like part of the group. Even when I’m just watching from far away, I feel like they see me. When Becky makes a joke, Caio looks at me to see if I’m laughing. When Caio says something silly, Becky looks at me before rolling her eyes. I feel like I belong. And it feels good.

And then when I was about twelve, I realized I was into girls, and all the bad things I used to hear out on the streets I now had to hear at home, too. Things get even worse when folks stop talking and start doing things to you instead. To bring you down. To break you down.

The courage that the Cowardly Lion was looking for was always inside him, that’s for certain. But instead of saying, “Dude, your courage is inside you,” the Wizard gives him a green liquid to drink, as if it were a potion. The Lion drinks it, feels brave, and becomes king of the forest. And he’ll probably never know that the green liquid had absolutely nothing in it. So, the Wizard is an asshole.

aka you're sayng that yourself are an asshole for thinking that the only reason you stood up to your bullies was because of the beer.

When it’s finally my turn, I order the two popcorns, and even though they’re both medium, I get “the look” from the cashier. When you’re fat, there are two variations of “the look” that you might get in food-related situations: The look you get when you order a small means, “You’re that big and you’re trying to watch what you eat?” The look you get when you order a large means, “You’re that big and you still can’t stop eating?” All of which is to say that if you’re fat, you’re never right.

“I’m sorry if I pushed your boundaries,”

“I don’t remember the precise time. It probably started when I woke up and found out you’d left the book for me. Or the time you set aside a piece of cake for me and put the glass of milk close to my chair for breakfast. When you told me about your problems, and I realized that having a mom who accepts you is not the immediate solution to everything. When you listened to me crying and complaining about things that I have no idea how to solve. There was no beginning. It was all of those things that made me like you.”

It’s nothing new. Even I’ve thought something like that. When we come across a couple where one person is thin and the other one is fat, we tend to come up with a thousand explanations for that couple’s existence, and none of them is “They must love each other.” “That guy must have a fetish.” “The fat dude must be rich.” “He was probably thin when they started dating, and now the thin guy would feel bad breaking up with him.” Whether they’re a fetishist, gold digger, or coward, the thin one is always seen in a negative light. And that was probably what Caio was trying to get away from.

The five minutes are up, and I don’t know how to react. My mouth is hanging open, and Caio takes advantage of it and kisses me. A soft, sweet, delicate kiss this time. “Believe me when I say …” Another kiss. “That you are amazing …” And another. “Your hair smells great …” Another. “And I like the little dimple at the end of your nose …” A confused laugh. And then another kiss. “You are beautiful, Felipe. You really, truly are.”

it occurs to me that if the word beautiful had a million different meanings … Caio would be all of them.

But it feels different now, ever since I opened up and let myself be liked back.

But in all that time I spent by myself, I never really thought about the things that make me happy. I guess I’ve always been so busy trying to avoid being unhappy that I never found a way to be happy.

15. I like the pool. For a long time, I pretended I didn’t, because I was ashamed of my body. But tonight, floating next to Caio and looking up at the moon above us, I understand what makes me happy when I’m in the water. When I’m here, I feel weightless.