Eight Inches to make Johnny Smile (2 page)

Eventually, Johnny drew the meeting to a close, and people began to leave. Mat ended up with seven new phone numbers and the offer of coffee on Thursday with Shelly. Never had there been such times. He too had begun to shuffle off when he felt an arm on his elbow. It was Johnny.

“Hope it wasn’t too much for your first time, Mat? I know it can seem a little overwhelming, but everyone really is lovely and on your side. Some people come here to lose weight, some just for the fun. The more the merrier, I say. Here’s my number.” Mat helplessly handed over his phone and watched those long fingers fiddle with the digits, trying to block out images of zippers.

“Urgh, thanks, Johnny. It was great.” He couldn’t manage anything more Earth-shattering than that, but Johnny beamed back and looked right at him.

“I think this is going to be your year, Mat. Just wait and see. Call me right away if you have any trouble on the diet, don’t even hesitate. It was great to see a young guy here. You’re just what this group needs.” Johnny leaned forward, squeezed Mat’s hand, and winked.

“Bye,” Mat managed, and attempted a brisk walk whilst holding in his stomach. When he got to the car, he took out all the chocolate stashes, and threw them in a nearby bin. As he drove off home, even his car engine sounded healthier.

He stuck to the diet. During the coming week, he weighed foods, checked packages and ate bags of carrot sticks. Mum looked askance when he told her she’d better not cook him a dinner when he went round to visit.

“But why? You’ve always loved my cooking.”

“I do, Mum, and that’s the problem. I’m following this diet, see.”

“Diet? What diet? It’s not one of them starvation things is it? Because you can overdo it, you know.”

“No, Mum, just something I got off the internet.” He wasn’t going to tell anyone about the group, in case they ruined it for him. He didn’t want to talk about it and he certainly didn’t want anyone he knew going along. He wanted to hold it close to him – a shield when the arseholes at work started on him.

He got four text messages from the ladies, all asking him how he was doing and if he needed advice, about anything. He saved them all, and read them often. Friday night he was settling in for a night of lone TV when there was an unfamiliar buzzing noise. He hunted about before finding it – his mobile – ringing with Johnny’s name flashing.

Fucking idiot that he was, he just stared at it, warm tingles running all down his back. Obviously Johnny was only ringing to check on the diet, but still. After it stopped ringing, he held it close to his cheek, wrinkling his nose at his own foolishness. The vibrations on his cheek made him drop it, but this time he scrabbled and managed to press ‘answer’ before Johnny gave up on him.

“Mat? Is that you, mate?” Oh, God, his voice. Shivers ran along Mat’s back like warm droplets of delicious honey on toast.

“Yes, hi, Johnny.” What was he supposed to say to him?

“I wondered how you were doing? Friday night is often a bad night for people, so I wanted to check up on you.”

Mat held the phone as close as he could and ran his other hand up and down his leg in an agony of pleasure. He could hear Johnny’s breathing. “Johnny, I’m doing really well. I haven’t had one slip, and I walked to work instead of driving.”

“That’s fantastic, Mat. Well done, mate. But how are
you
doing?”

Mat went quite blank. His mind clutched at words. Who was he? Why was he? What did Johnny say? “Me?” he whispered back at the phone, at a loss for words.

Johnny laughed, an easy and breathy sound that filled Mat with longing. “Yeah, you, Mat. How are you? Not how is the diet, but how are you? I’m sure a lovely guy like yourself has better things to do, but me and a few of the group go walking Friday night. We meet at Hillsborough car park by the corner, have a brisk walk round, then a pint in the pub. You can even get low calorie beer nowadays. You coming with us? I’d be grateful for another guy. The girls can get a bit overwhelming.”

Mat let out a deep gust of breath, and answered without thinking. “Yes, oh yes, I do. What time?”

“Really? Oh, thanks, Mat. Half seven. See you there. Appreciate it.”

“Bye, Johnny.” He was surely joking, about the helping him out part, but who cared? He was meeting Johnny and the world’s nicest ladies.

Mat thundered up the stairs and stood in front of his wardrobe, determined to be brave and bold. The size of the waistband of his jeans as he held them out nearly defeated him, but he couldn’t let Johnny down. He really couldn’t.

****

Twenty minutes later, he was ready for anything. He ate an apple, drank some water, and looked in the dreaded mirror. It was difficult to tell, but he probably wasn’t such a bad-looking guy, underneath it all. Never good enough for someone like Johnny, or anyone really, but maybe good enough to walk around the park on a Friday night.

Half an hour later, he was ready for…nothing. What was he doing? What was the point? These people weren’t like him, they had lives and friends and. A vibration stopped him from the spiral that would lead to a curry and chips. It was a text message from Johnny.

Please don’t have second thoughts. I need you. J

Mat got to the park in record time, and early, so he sat on a bench to wait. There were tennis players, runners, kids feeding the ducks, and a whole world he had forgotten about. It was a long time since he had been out on a Friday night.

Something slid over his eyes and a warm voice said, “Guess who? No, not Santa, try again.”

“The Easter Bunny?”

“Close. Have another go. There’s a prize if you get it right.”

“Johnny.”

“Yes. Top marks.” Johnny slid his hands to rest on Mat’s shoulders for a second, before joining him on the bench, his smile easily the best thing that Mat had ever seen. “Thanks for coming. You can keep the ladies off me. I’ll buy the first round.”

Other people began to appear, all hugging each other – and Mat – and he felt included, part of the human race. They began the walk around the park, but they didn’t leave him at the back on his own. Shelley declared him the leader of the expedition, linked arms with him and told him all about her love life.

Mat was usually far too conscious of his size to touch anyone, except for a quick peck from Mum, but somehow this seemed different.

****

The pub was fairly crowded and he was feeling the first signs of sweat when a hand landed on the small of his back and guided him to a table, thankfully with benches and not those ridiculous chairs he couldn’t fit into. Johnny got the drinks and then slid in next to him. He was blonde, with shaggy hair and smiling brown eyes, and Mat knew that he was staring.

“So, what do you do for work, Mat? Let me guess. Something very cool and clever. Computers?” Mat nodded dumbly, tried to answer but produced only a whiney grunt. Johnny smiled, took his hand and leaned into him.

“What about you, Johnny?” he finally managed, too late to save his heart from lurching dramatically, wishing he could think of something interesting to say.

“I’m a student – health and nutrition. I run the group to bring in some cash, but to tell you the truth, it’s the best part of my week. I love it, meeting interesting people like you.”

For an instant, Mat had a horrible nightmare flash that his mum had paid Johnny to meet him and say stuff like that, because he had never been interesting before, not even to his old dog who died two years ago. He was Fat Mat, boring and sweaty.

Shelley plopped down on his other side and took his other hand. “Leave some for us, you slut,” she gaily told Johnny, who laughed and nudged him. “Wannabe slut, yeah. It’s my Weight Fighter’s resolution this year. What’s yours, Mat?”

“Urgh, to lose some weight,” he offered lamely, wishing now that he’d signed up for lassoing classes, just so he could drop it into the conversation.

“You and me both,” Shelly sighed. “I’m off for a dance. See ya.”

Mat gulped down his diet lemonade, racking his brain for things to say.

“Why don’t you change your Weight Fighter’s resolution to…lose some weight, and have fun?” Johnny said softly. “Everyone deserves that.”

Mat wondered what Johnny would say if he admitted that his previous idea of fun had been eating a six-pack of chocolate toffee bars and a curry while watching reality TV shows.

Johnny was so easy to talk to. Mat had lots of ideas, but no-one to tell them to. They chatted on, and Mat asked him about the group. “What made you want to get into that?”

“Same as you, Mat: to lose weight. A few years ago I was massively overweight, depressed and didn’t want to go out. My parents died and my boyfriend dumped me all in a year. I turned to food. That group saved me, Mat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s awful, about your parents and boyfriend.”

“Thanks. There’s a photo of me, on the group noticeboard. I was loser of the year. Felt better than it sounds. Next week, I’ll show you it. You are coming back?”

Mat nodded vigorously, until his neck ached.
Johnny had once had a boyfriend.
Oh yeah, he was going back.

He couldn’t believe that was Johnny in the photo. He had been way bigger than Mat, but he still had that mad hair and sprinkling of freckles. Mat realised he was stroking the photo, and abruptly snatched his hand away and stuffed it in his pocket. He turned to see if anyone had seen, and Johnny waved back at him.
Oh, shit.

This was his fourth week here now, and he had already lost a stone. He’d become friends with a few of the women, going for coffee and chatting. He loved it. Last week he was the biggest loser for the fourth week in a row, so the group stood up and danced to ‘YMCA’ for him, led by Mary. Johnny had been sick with flu for two weeks but he had sent Mat text messages encouraging him to stay on track and go walking every Friday. Seeing him again made Mat feel ill, and dizzy. He’d tried to convince himself that he’d imagined how amazing Johnny was, but now he saw that mop of hair and those eyes looking straight into him, he knew he hadn’t. Johnny had some sort of fluffy magnetism – not like those assholes at work who had people flocking – more like that warm, sunny spot in the sea, where everyone tried to huddle.

Johnny stopped right before him and just looked, right at him. “Wow, Mat! You’ve been doing well, I can see you’ve lost loads since we last met – you look fantastic. C’mere, you.”

The hug. Oh, dear God.
Mat could kick himself for not starting the diet years ago, because if he had, then he could get closer and just bury himself in that hair. Wolf whistles flew around the room, and they pulled away, laughing, but not before Johnny gave his hand a firm squeeze.

It was Shelley’s turn this week to ‘Fess Up’. She had ended a relationship weeks before and was struggling to get over it. Mat had spent quite a few nights listening to her cry over the phone, and even helped her set up the TV and computer in her new flat.

She stood and began, “I have a nice ’Fess. It’s about my man here, Mat. He’s been a godsend to me these past few weeks. He’s listened to me, sorted out my wiring – NOT that sort, potty mind. So, I wanted to say thank you.”

Everyone looked and cheered, and Mat could have died, only it was quite nice, and Johnny cheered the loudest of all.

A basket of fruit appeared and was placed in Mat’s flushed, sweating hands. “Thank you,” was all he could manage, blinking rapidly in case a tear escaped.

****

It was getting worse. He’d been there almost four months now, and to start with he’d liked it. The work was easy, lots of minor issues to sort out on the IT helpdesk. He enjoyed the contact, and being able to help people. They weren’t always grateful, but he got satisfaction when he was able to fix things.

Mat was a whizz on computers, always had been. When he finished university one of the tutors tried to talk him into doing a PhD, but Dad was made redundant, and he wanted to help them out financially, so he got a job instead.

His weight wasn’t really an issue in the offices he worked in, not until he moved to this one. There was a crowd of about three, but it was really only name-calling and he could handle it. He’d dealt with worse.

But, as he saw the main ass, Simon, making his way over, Mat’s heart sped up and the sweat started on his back.

“Hey, big guy. There’s a letter for you at reception,” Simon sneered, “Is it from the fat shop?”

Mat concentrated on his face, keeping it neutral and not blushing. “Thanks, Simon.” He knew better than to look him in the eye, so he turned back to his computer and carried on working. He didn’t even flinch as Simon muttered ‘lard arse’ before returning to his own desk and the other two giggling idiots.

Last week the letter was a catalogue of tents, the week before a leaflet about over-sized underwear. This week, he decided not to even open it. A bolt of strength came from somewhere, as he ripped up the envelope and threw it in the bin, aware of Simon and crew watching.
Screw them.

****

Supermarkets were tricky places. He avoided the naughty aisles because once an old lady had stopped him as he put some crisps in his trolley and said, “You shouldn’t be eating those, love.” And he had fled, leaving his trolley and his bio-degradable shopping bags. Just lately, he’d started having his food delivered, but this was identified at the group as a key area to work on, because he’d been ordering loads of biscuits and chocolate.

He faced the supermarket with grim determination. If he could tackle Simon, he could face a few nosy people, and anyway, he had a list he had to follow.

He saw him straight away – Johnny. Right by the oranges, peering at fruit and looking good enough to eat. Johnny caught sight of him too, and waved.

“Mat. Hi there.”

Mat waved back, hoping to God Johnny hadn’t seen him checking his arse as he bent over his trolley.

“This is nice, we can do our shopping together. We’ve probably got the same list of foods,” Johnny enthused.

“Yeah. I’m trying to stick to my list and not even look at the other aisles.” Mat shoved some apples in his trolley, trying not to bend because he knew what he looked like from the back.