Читать книгу Why Is Brian So Fat? - Gary Solomon - Страница 8

What’s for Dinner?

“When’s the pizza going to get here?” Brian yelled. “I’m starving.” Before his mother had a chance to answer, Brian yelled again, “Can I have a cupcake before the pizza comes? I’m starving. I can’t wait.” He hadn’t realized he was so hungry.

“Pizza’s here,” Charlotte barked. “Come on; hurry up before it gets cold.”

Brian shoved the last bite of the cupcake down his throat. Much better, he thought. Brian’s mom didn’t mind that Brian had the cupcake because she felt so bad about the way his dad had treated him. She also knew how quickly food could soothe hurt feelings. Charlotte had put on a lot of weight in the past ten years. Food offered her a bit of happiness.

“Don’t mind your dad. You know how he gets when he comes home from work. I barely talk to him much myself these days. Marriage is like that, you know, Brian. It seems after a while there’s not much to say. Plus, I don’t like talking to him when he’s been working as much as he has been these last few years. And his drinking seems to have gotten worse. I don’t think I’ll stay with your father when you kids are grown. If it weren’t for you and Madison, I don’t think your father and I would be together at all. But that’s life. ‘You gotta stay together for the kids whether you like it or not.’ At least that’s what my mom used to say.”

I’ll never be that way when I get married, Brian thought to himself. It’s going to be different for me. My dad just doesn’t know how to be nice to Mom.

Just as the cupcake went kerplunk in his stomach, Brian saw his sister come dancing into the kitchen. Madison had on blue shorts and a yellow tank top with socks and sneakers to match. Her hair was pulled into a tight knot. She had just finished her aerobic workout.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked in a let’s-get-it-over-with tone of voice.

“Pizza,” Brian replied without a moment’s pause. His mom usually either nuked some kind of frozen dinner in the microwave or had some fast food delivered. Rarely did she actually cook a meal.

“Pizza,” Madison whined. “Yuck!” she exclaimed. “Mom, I’m going to have some yogurt instead, and then I’m going over to MaryAnn’s to practice my cheerleading. All this junk food makes me feel like a cow. I don’t like it, anyway.”

“Madison,” her mother snapped back at her, “don’t talk about food like that. You don’t have to eat so much that you feel like a cow. Just eat some of the dinner. What about all the children all over the world who are starving? What about them?” Charlotte paused for a moment while she put the paper plates on the table. “And another thing, can’t you ever have MaryAnn over to our house to practice your cheerleading? Why do you always have to go over to her house?”

“Mom, you know,” she took a passing glance at her dad lying on the couch. “I just like it better over there. Please?” Her mom ignored Madison’s glance at the couch and went on with what she had been doing.

Brian thought, boy is she crazy. Pizza is the best kind of stuff in the world. A mischievous grin peeked out under his chubby cheeks. If she eats yogurt then there will be that much more pizza for me.

“Madison,” her mother continued, “a growing girl doesn’t live on yogurt alone, you know.”

“But Mom,” Madison moaned. At that moment Brian’s father strolled into the kitchen.

“What’s going on in here? What’s all this ruckus about? Why isn’t everybody sitting down to eat? Brian, I’m surprised you haven’t started eating already. My goodness, sometimes I think if I don’t get in here fast enough you’ll have eaten everything all up. A man’s got to be quick on his feet with old Bri Bri around,” he said, laughing as he popped open his third beer.

Brian hung his head, chin resting on his dirty T-shirt. It’s the same old comment every night, he thought. If it’s not that one, it’s “Loosen your belt, Bri Bri, here comes another ten pounds,” or “Why can’t you be like your sister?” or “If you keep eating like that, I’ll have to take out a bank loan just to put food on the table.”

Brian turned around and plopped himself down at the worn oval table where dinner was about to begin. He put three slices of pizza on the paper plate and grabbed a cola. Getting up from the table, he went to the living room and fell into the couch with his pizza and cola to watch television.

Brian sat in silence eating his meal as if there were no one else in the house. Sometimes I get so tired of listening to my dad talk to me that way. I wish he weren’t here. But I guess he works hard all day and when he comes home he’s got to take it out on someone, so it might as well be me.

Brian began to choke on his food. He had just shoveled half a slice of pizza into his mouth before he had even swallowed the first half. “Slow down,” his father screamed from the kitchen. “Slow down before you choke to death.” At that, Brian took one big painful gulp and sent his cheek-puffing mouthful of food down his throat.

“Are you okay, Brian?” his mother asked anxiously. “Are you okay? Don’t eat so fast. Just take your time.”

Madison murmured “pig” under her breath.

“I heard that,” her mother said, snapping back at Madison. “You’re not to speak about your brother that way!”

“Well,” she snickered. “That’s what he is. He’s a pig! He eats like a pig and he looks like a pig. It makes me want to puke when I watch him eat.” Brian just kept on eating, pretending not to be bothered by his sister’s harsh words. Besides, he was used to it.

“That’s enough,” Charlotte screamed. She stood up and began throwing the paper plates into the trash. “Whose turn is it to clean up the kitchen?” she demanded. It seemed all she did was try to keep Brian and Madison from arguing.

“It’s Brian’s. It’s Brian’s,” Madison yelped. “It’s Brian’s turn.” No sooner had she said that than she got up and ran upstairs to her room, slamming the door behind her. Brian’s dad shook his head.

“I don’t know what’s up with that girl lately. Have you noticed how she’s been eating? She seems to just push the food around on her plate. When she takes a bite half of it comes back on the fork. I don’t know who the heck she’s trying to fool.”

“I know, Marshall. What do you think we should do about it?” Charlotte glanced at Brian, who was all ears. “I’ll talk about it with you later.”

“Oh come on, you never let me hear the good stuff,” he said, waiting to hear the rest of his parents’ conversation.

“This is none of your business.” Charlotte said. You shouldn’t be listening to our conversation anyway.”

“How can I help it? I’m right here in front of you.”

“Cut the sarcasm. You just mind your manners,” his father said, glaring at Brian.

Brian stood there stiff as a board. He knew if he said one more word his father would start yelling at him, and he hated the mean things he always said. If I’m lucky he won’t go on about it, he thought hopefully.

His dad just stared at him for a moment and as soon as he was about to continue with Brian, Charlotte broke in to divert the potential disaster.

“Maybe she’s just not feeling well.” Marshall slowly looked toward Charlotte, directing his angry look at her instead of Brian.

Thanks, Mom, Brian said to himself.

“Well, I guess she’s just going through one of those stages,” Marshall said. “Thin is in, you know,” he said shrugging his shoulders.

“Yes, I know, but she’s lost so much weight lately. Maybe we should have a talk with her,” Charlotte continued.

“Whatever you want to do, babe. She’s your daughter,” he said. He strolled out of the kitchen back to his favorite place in front of the TV and settled in for the evening. “Give your mother a hand with the kitchen,” he yelled at Brian. “You do a better job than Madison does anyway.”

At least there’s something I can do well. Brian stood up and began helping his mother with the trash. There were two slices of pizza to save.

“Put the leftover pizza in the fridge. I am going to sit and relax my back,” his mother said getting a cigarette from the pack.

“Okay,” Brian replied.

Brian began to put the leftover slices into a plastic food storage bag, when he thought, “waste not, want not,” that’s what Mom always says. And he proceeded to eat the last two slices of pizza. He never felt like he had had enough to eat unless he felt stuffed.

“All done, son?” she asked as she got up from her chair.

“You bet, Mom,” he mumbled, as a bit of pizza sauce dribbled from his lower lip.

“You’re such a good son. I don’t know what I’d do without you. What more could a mother ask for?”

“Can I have an extra piece of cake for helping with the kitchen two nights in a row? Can I? Please!” His mother could never resist Brian when he pleaded for extra food. His chubby cheeks looked so cute to her. Like an angel, she thought.