Her hair nearly covered her face. He stood up and touched her back. Bones. Hard, bent over bones. She looked up and smiled weakly.
“That sounded cruel, didn’t it? I’m so dramatic these days.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“I know I am,” she said and laughed. “All this for a game. If my daughter saw me…”
“Where is she?”
“Pennsylvania.”
“I see.”
“And now I’m causing all this commotion over what you say is a prank call. I’m like a child. I said I wouldn’t cry…” She trailed off. Then she turned her head, her back holding still. She looked at the closed blinds. Jake stood up quickly.
“You know what? Let’s fix something.”
He walked over and opened the blinds. Light entered the room and thick beams of it made everything bright. The duck’s bill turned from black to orange, and the walls seemed cleaner. Gary snapped awake and looked around in shock.
“The white light! Am I dead again?”
“Gary, let’s get a picture.”
Charlotte looked worried.
“A picture for publication?”
“Of course not. Just for you.”
She stayed seated in her chair, the walker at her side. Jake helped Gary set up the camera. It was heavier than he thought. Then Gary smiled as he screwed on his special lens. Charlotte touched her hair and pulled it back and up. She sat up as straight as she could. The light smoothed out her face. It was a pale plane, but a pretty one. Around it, her hair looked like rising smoke. Gary adjusted the angle and clicked. He didn’t even need to use the flash because the room was so bright.
CHAPTER 7
It wasn’t until 3PM the next day that Jake realized his problem. When he came home and went inside, he realized it as soon as he looked at his open closet. He had a semi-formal dinner date. His first date with a beautiful woman. But he didn’t have a suit that fit. He’d brought two suits down to Sarasota, but both of them had been made for a different man. Black and navy blue, and both for someone 75 pounds heavier. He couldn’t tell Mel, but he didn’t want to cancel.
He tried to do all his other work first. He filed his dispatch to Thompson as quickly as he could and hoped he wouldn’t call. He went in the bathroom and took a shower. Razor. Deodorant. Toothbrush. But it was all stalling from trying to solve the problem of his suit.
He put on underwear and a white shirt. That one was new and tailored. Then he walked slowly to the closet. He picked out the black suit. Black was slimming, he’d heard. He’d heard it when he was 75 pounds heavier. And he was sure that black only made the person look thinner. It didn’t work for the suit.
He held it up and looked in the mirror. It looked fine then. But he knew that it fit differently on your body than it did held in front of it, like a paper doll. Even his ties seemed fat now. He didn’t know why he’d kept the suits. Maybe it was supposed to be motivational, a reminder to eat carefully. Now he didn’t know if he’d be able to go to dinner.
He’d have to cancel. He picked up the phone and scrolled to “M.” It was the way it had to be. Her name flashed, but he didn’t press send. No, it would be fine. It was just a suit. People didn’t notice what men wore anyway-he couldn’t cancel over that. The women were the show. He admired the crisp outline of his shirt. Then he put on the jacket and pants.
It looked like he’d snuck into his fathers’ clothes. It wasn’t just baggier, it seemed longer. His bulk had taken up length, not just width. The sleeves went down through his wrists and the pant legs covered his feet. He didn’t know he’d been shrunk. Around his waist, the belt bunched so much cloth it looked like he was wearing frills. He stood in front of the mirror. Then he jumped. Someone was standing outside the window behind him.
He didn’t have time to change into something else. Now they were knocking at the door. He never had visitors. Why would he have them now, of all times? He opened the door and stuck out his head.
The woman standing there was short. She wore a tight green t-shirt that looked soft and she had short, pixie hair that was red or brown. He couldn’t tell in the light. She wore tight jeans and was barefoot, not even wearing flip-flops. When he opened the door a little wider she leaned toward him.
“Is this a bad time?” Her smooth voice, a little nasal, made it sound like she’d just told a joke.
“It kind of is.”
“I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“Hello,” he said. She tilted her head to the side.
“Can I come in?”
He let her in. She walked in like she owned the apartment, taking wide steps over his carpet.
“Your suit’s too big.”
“I know.” He pulled his pants up further. “That’s why I didn’t want you to come in.”
“I live next door. I just moved in. I’m Kaylie.”
“Kaylie?”
“Yes. And you are?”
“Jake.” He sat on the bed. His suit jacket was like a blanket. “Jake Russo.”
She pulled his desk chair out and sat across from him.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Uh, a couple of months. You?”
She put her hands on his chair like it was hers. She stretched.
“I’ve lived in Sarasota for a few years. I just moved into this building. Hence the introducing myself. Why is your suit so big?”
“What’s that?”
“Why,” she repeated, “is your suit so big?”
“Is it that noticeable?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.”
“Why is it?”
“I should go.” He stood up but she stayed seated. She scanned the room. The short sleeves of her shirt ran up her arm and caught around her shoulder.
“You can’t go anywhere in that.”
“I can’t?”
“Nope.”
“I know.”
“Go to the store.”
“I have to be somewhere tonight. It was nice to meet you though, Kaylie.”
“What’s going on tonight?”
“Something.”
She tilted her head and walked out of the apartment without saying anything. He started to follow, but when he looked out the door, he didn’t see her in either direction. She came out of the door on the right.
“Here.” She handed him a piece of paper. Hotel stationary. She’d written an address in block letters.
“What is it?”
“Directions. You probably don’t know where the Men’s Wearhouse is.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then there you go. You can buy a new suit.”
