“Kohl bought me a gift certificate to have a dress made for New Year’s Eve. I’m a lot bigger than a size eight. I hope they can fit me,” I say handing the customer his coffee ignoring his “thank you” as he walks away. My mind fretting that the dress store will tell me I, too, am too fat.
“I wouldn’t stress about it. It is a custom-made dress. Surely they have clients who order dresses that are larger than a size two.”
With a forced smile, I turn to take an order from the next customer. “Hi, what can I get for you?”
“Did I hear you say Kohl bought you a dress from Mirage?” the sharp tongue she-beast says leering at me.
“That was a private conversation. What would you like to drink?” I ask trying to ignore her judging eyes raking me up and down.
“You’re lying,” she spews, spraying my face with spittle. “There is no way Kohl bought you a dress; or anything, for that matter. We all see you tagging along with him to the fitness center, helping him in the library. He pities you, ya know?” she pauses for her venom to settle into my head. “He was at a party hooking up with my friend Jill two weeks ago. You’re a charity case who can help him pass his classes. When your usefulness runs out you’ll see. Honestly, honey, you shouldn’t lie to people about mythical gifts. A fat ass like you could never attract a man like Kohl,” she finishes with a smug smile on her bitchy face.
“You need to leave. Now,” I hear from behind my shoulder, making me jump. Archer has once again come to my rescue. Though I appreciate it, I was ready to take care of this bitch myself.
“You’re kicking me out?” she bellows in disbelief, “But, but, I haven’t gotten my coffee yet,” she whines in a high-pitched howl.
“I suggest you find a new shop to get your coffee. You’re no longer welcome here,” he says pointing to the sign behind the counter that reads ‘We reserve the right to refuse service to any patron’.
Huffing, she slings her purse on her shoulder, mutters obscenities under her breath and stomps out of the shop.
“Archer, you have to quit kicking people out because of me. If you throw out every rude person on campus, there won’t be anyone left to buy coffee here,” I chuckle.
“I will continue to ban every person who wants to be an asshole. If people can’t be decent human beings, I don’t want them in my store. Prejudice is prejudice, no matter how it’s packaged. People judge you because they see you as a heavy person. Someone not as appealing to the eye as a thin person. That’s bullshit,” he bellows, his nostrils flaring.
“Rather than take the opportunity to get to know someone, they judge on sight alone. Honestly, it’s not even eyesight they’re judging on. Take you, for example,” he says waving his hand up and down toward me. “You’re a heart-stopping, young woman with rocking curves and curious eyes. Getting to know you is the icing on the cake. Jealousy is what’s fueling these people. You have something they want. Something they covet and it’s eating them up. These hateful people’s only response is to let venom spill from their mouths.”
Taking a big breath, I clarify, “They’re not jealous, Archer. Attraction is based on our senses. We must find something or someone physically enticing before we want to get to know them or want to buy it. Do they smell good? Are they appealing to the eyes? Do we feel a spark when we touch? It’s rare for people to get to know each other before seeing them. We see something we want, we pursue it. Simple as that. It’s kind of like trying a new food. When you first experience it, you will either love it or hate it. If you love it, you will love it always. If you hate it, you can learn to appreciate its taste but you will never love it.”
Grinning with his eyes lit with pride, “Spoken in true psychobabble; you will make a great psychologist,”, he states.
“I don’t want to be a shrink. I want to understand how the brain works. Study the factors that make us who we are. Thank you again for standing up for me,” I correct wrapping him in a hug.
“You’re a wonderful person. You need to see it and stand up for yourself,” he mumbles into my hair. “Haters are everywhere in this world. They will judge you for your race, your religion, your sexual preference—anything that makes you feel less than you are. Be stronger, be braver; don’t hide, don’t settle, be an Amazonian and make this world yours,” sighing sadly, he heads back to his office.
After my shift, I lay in my bed replaying everything in my head. My heart bleeds for Archer; he feels he must hide who he loves because he’s afraid of his family and friends. He’s unable to be openly gay, to embrace who he really is. Ironic that he wants me to stand up for myself when he can’t do it. Maybe helping me will help him see that he too needs to fight for what he wants.
My brain is consumed with the words of that venomous girl, the things she said about Kohl hooking up with her friend.
My head knows that we’re not together, that we’re only friends. My heart missed the memo and it’s wrenching me in half thinking he was with someone else. He’s a young, attractive man with sex being thrown at him all the time. Part of me secretly hoped he wasn’t screwing anyone, a small figment of me thought he might be starting to have feelings for me that extending beyond friendship. The sweltering kiss we shared on Christmas is on a constant loop in my head.
