Seeds of Fear

him. He pulled hard to get the top closed. His belly bulged over his belt.

'Fucking jeans have shrunk,' he said, turning to her. 'Look at this.'

He kicked off the jeans and took another pair of pants from the closet. These, too, would not close properly.

'Shit,' he said, and would not look at her.

His belly bulged like a white balloon full of water. He held it in both hands and looked down at it. It jiggled.

'Son of a bitch,' he said. 'I feel bloated. Do I look bloated to you?'

Agatha stared at his reflection in the mirror. She did not dare speak. She felt cold.

'Better stop making those damned muffins,' he said. 'I'm going to end up looking like you.'

'All right,' she said.

When, at last, he left the room, she looked at herself.

He's not yours, she told herself. It doesn't matter.

Slowly she began to put on some makeup.

'You are Nicholas's wife?' Dr. Binder eyed her with appreciative astonishment.

'Yes,' Agatha said.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door. She still had not grown accustomed to her new appearance. It all seemed like a dream. She had never looked this good in her life. Had never dreamed she could look this good.

'I'm afraid it's very bad news,' he said.

He was young, slim, healthy. He was standing much closer to her than he should have been. She held his arm for support. Even her hand, long fingers tipped with red nails, did not look like her own. He guided her to a chair and sat her down. His office walls were bare but for his diplomas.

'Nicholas is suffering from an acute buildup of fatty deposits. It's an uncommon condition, but not unheard-of. It happens only to men, usually in their late thirties. I've done a little research. There have been only a couple of thousand recorded cases like Nicholas in the past twenty years.'

'Is he going to get better?'

'At this stage, I can't say. This is not a well-known condition. It can be fatal. I'm not saying it will be in your husband's case, but I wanted to let you know.'

'He was fine three weeks ago.'

'What do you mean by fine?'

'Normal. He weighed about one eighty, I think. He always said that. That's what he weighed when we got married.'

Dr. Binder almost laughed. 'I think he was pulling your leg. He can't have weighed only a hundred eighty pounds just three weeks ago. That would mean he gained nearly two hundred pounds since then, and that's just not possible. His heart couldn't take a catastrophic change like that.'

Agatha frowned but said nothing. She looked down at her hands.

'Can I see him?'

Binder frowned. 'I should warn you. We performed emergency liposuction on his throat last night because he was having trouble breathing. He may look a bit. well, I just wanted to warn you.'

Binder led her down the hallway to Nick's room, then left her there. Nick lay on his back in the bed, covered by a blue sheet. His throat was swaddled in white bandages. His arms were on top of the sheet. The skin of his arms was shiny, taut, bulging. He seemed to have turned yellow in the past day or two. His breathing was slow, labored.

She went to the side of the bed. His nose wrinkled. He opened his eyes.

'Aggie.'

She touched his hand. He felt hot and slippery. When she took her fingers away, they left an indentation in his skin that slowly filled again.

'The doctor says you're going to be okay.'

'You're lying. He already told me.'

'I'm sorry, Nick.'

'No you're not. You did this to me.'

'Don't be silly.'

'How much weight have you lost? A hundred pounds? In three weeks? For every pound you lost, I put on two. Bitch.'

He lifted his hand, as if to reach for her, and she stepped back. His hand hit the rail at the side of the bed. The impact split his skin, a thin fissure from between his pinky and ring finger to his wrist. He cried out as if he'd been burned, and yellow fluid spurted out of the cut, thick and sluggish. It slid down the side of the bed in lumps.

When Aggie turned around, Dr. Binder was there. She leaned into him.

'It's awful!'

Two nurses came in behind the doctor and went immediately to Nick. Binder led Aggie out of the room.

'I'm sorry,' he said, holding her close, supporting her. 'If there's anything I can do, you'll let me know?'

His face was close to hers. The look in his eyes was not just sympathetic. There was something else there, barely hidden below the surface. My God, was that desire? He wanted to kiss her! Wanted to do more than kiss her. A lot more.

'I'll try to come by later to see Nick.'

'Have a nurse call me when you're here. We'll see to it that Nick's kept comfortable.'

'Thank you for your help.'

'It's the least I can do,' he said.

His hand lingered on her arm. She did not look back at him as she walked away.

'Everything has a price,' Helen said carefully, looking at Agatha across the desk.

'He's going to die,' Agatha said. 'He's gained over two hundred pounds in three weeks. His heart can't take it. He can't breathe.'

'You gave him up willingly, Agatha. You gave him to us.'

'I didn't know what you were going to do to him.'

'We helped you, that's all. Haven't we been successful?'

'But Nick… I know you're responsible.'

'So you know. Are you happy?'

Agatha hesitated only a moment before answering. 'Yes.'

'I promised you that you would be. Now, take a month or two to enjoy yourself. Enjoy your new body. Take three months. You won't have to provide a man until September.'

Agatha felt suddenly cold. 'I don't understand, Helen.'

'Everything balances, Agatha. What you lose, somebody else must gain.'

Agatha stared at the other woman. 'I won't bring anybody else.'

'That's your choice. I felt the same way. Let me show you something.'

Helen reached into the desk and pulled out a photograph. She handed it to Agatha. Agatha held it gingerly, studying it with dismay. It was Helen. Helen corpulent, bulging.

'I've seen this already.'

'No, you haven't. This is the after shot. After I learned how I lost the weight the first time. Four months after, to be exact. I'd been married a month. My new love. I couldn't give him up.'

Agatha stared at the photograph, horrified more by Helen's words than by the image. 'It all came back,' she said.

'And more. Pretty soon he didn't want me. In the end, I gave him up. What choice did I have?'

'Oh, God.'

'Everything has a price, Agatha. We all pay it. Twice a year. It isn't much to ask. One man does the group for nearly a month. That gives you at least six months between. Sometimes even as long as a year. It can seem like a long time. A lifetime.'

Agatha covered her face with a hand. 'It's horrible.'