Being Don Being Donna - Chapter Four

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When I went home, I tried to figure out what changed. What made the neighbors so mean to me at the block party? George and Rose Sullivan were kinder to me today than they’d been in years. What George Sullivan said about Tom and Molly Brenham was odd, too. The Brenham had reason to be angry. Their new Volvo got trashed. They blamed dad. It was hard to tell if he hit their Volvo from the looks of dad’s car. It looked like a junk heap, with every fender dented. I knew he didn’t do it because I was with him in the house at the time.

I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Miss Morgan would be home before long, and I still had to cook dinner. Thankfully, I know how to make burgers. I lit the grill and fixed a salad the way she showed me. I sat and waited; counting the nine dollars I took from my otherwise empty wallet, five times. It was quite a wad for me. I closed my eyes and daydreamed about what I could do with nine bucks!

She was there, right on time. "Got the soy burgers ready, Donny?"

"Soy Burgers? I thought these were ground beef?"

"Sorry, no more red meat for a while. Not until you lose a few pounds. I see you still didn’t cook them."

"No, they’d dry out if I put them on too soon, and you were detained."

"Good thinking. Put them on now. I brought a change of clothes with me. I’ll be back by the time the burgers are ready after I change."

"I thought we were going shopping? Why change clothes if we’re going out?"

"I’ve worn this business suit all day, Donny. I want to be comfortable in a casual outfit at the mall. If I see a few things I like, I don’t want to have to do and undo a dozen buttons each time to check for a good fit. A pullover blouse and a skirt with an elastic waistband are easier to handle in the cramped changing rooms. We’ll have more time to roam around and I can see what they have on sale."

"Oh, I thought we were going to shop for stuff for me. Men don’t need to bother with trying on the things we wear. All a guy needs to do is pick out the right size, and it fits. We’ll be done in a jiffy. I don’t need much stuff. Maybe a few shirts for school and a pair of new jeans, that’s all."

"You’re forgetting pajamas, polo shirts, a new bathing suit or two, sweat socks, jogging outfit, ‘sweats’, and gym shoes. I’m sure I left something out, Donny. You start exercising at the community center on Wednesday. Remember?"

"What’s wrong with the stuff I have?"

"What stuff? Do you have a jogging outfit or a decent set of ‘sweats’?"

"No, but"

"No buts. You show Wednesday up in street clothes and you’ll give up before you start, without trying. The correct approach to starting a weight control project is to set up a comprehensive plan, covering all aspects, with no omissions. A plan that is foolproof. Then, stick to the plan to the letter. Rapid success at the start will encourage you to continue. We begin by eating right, without exception, to kick off the program. Then, we introduce mild exercise, until your unused muscles adapt to the changes in activity. Then we kick it into high gear, once you lose a few pounds of water and fat for encouragement and your energy level peaks.

That way, instant failure isn’t a part of the equation. It’s too easy to give up, if you don’t begin with a sound program. You saw how specific and detailed the trainer was in scheduling your aerobics. He designed the exercises to fit your condition. Watch how quickly your body will react to this regimen. Come on, it will be fun!"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes! You ‘have to. We’ll only buy a few things. They’ll be baggy and not fit you in no time. After you trim down some, we’ll buy clothes to last for a while."

"But I hate exercising. All that sweat and body odor makes me want to puke."

"We both know better, Donny. You don’t care about sweat and odor. You’re just afraid to be seen in a gym. Someone might make fun of your ‘tummy rolls’. That’s what I think. I don’t think a disguise will help either. No matter what you wear, the people there are not going to give a hoot about what you look like. Don’t think about the way you look now. Think of how you’ll look after a few weeks of proper diet and good body toning aerobics. Think of the way the girls will see the new you."

"Yeah, right! The girls will think I’m an Adonis. Adonis, the blimp."

"We’ll see. All I ask you to do is give the program a chance. I want you to be able to keep pace with me this fall. We’ll be able to talk and make plans while we exercise in the evenings. Why are you so adamant? It won’t kill you!"

"Why can’t I sit and watch you exercise?"

"Because we’ll be jogging in the park, together some of the time. Don’t expect to comfortably ride your bike alongside of me, while I’m running, because we’ll do that too, on weekends. You won’t be able to keep up with me on my bike either, unless you begin, now. I’m sorry, but your resistance is unnerving. What’s the big deal with staying heavy, Donny?"

"People will see me. They’ll make fun of me. They always do."

"Did you ever consider that you might deserve their cruel attitude? See how long that will last, once you start to get ‘pumped up. Are you that vain, that you feel you must hide your obesity?"

OBESITY! "Ew! How I hate that word! I’d bet she never had to eat crow from her peers for being overweight! It’s easy for someone to tell you to lose weight. They don’t know how hard it is to drop a few pounds. They don’t know that it’s genetic, not something you want. Could I help it if my ancestors were heavy?

She caught the way I tensed up when she said it. "Oh, so you don’t like the term for your condition, is that it? Well, you’d be surprised at what they used to call me when I was your age: ‘Whale’, ‘blubber butt’, and ‘lard ass’! Am I getting warm? Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in your head. I’ve been there, done that, and got the tee shirt: a triple-XL. Forget about what some stupid jerks think you look like. Keep your mind on the goals... Eat your burger. It’s getting late. Got to go."

I could hardly keep up with her at the mall. We zipped through the stores like we had a deadline to keep. I was piled with sports outfits, just what I always wanted.

Three sets of sweats, two pairs of gym shoes, two, not one but two jogging outfits, three swim trunks, and piles of streetwear. Did she think I was made out of money? How could I pay her back for this stuff? It was a big waste of money as far as I was concerned. I was tired out from lugging it all from store to store.

When we finished shopping for me, she took me to a dress shop, well I didn’t know what else to call it. They didn’t sell any dresses. They only sold the kind of stuff pretty girls wear under their dresses. I stood guard by the door. What if someone saw me go in with her? She went in, walked around for a while, and came back out without touching a thing. She grabbed my arm and dragged me back in with her. "Don’t make a scene, Donny. You’ll only draw more attention to yourself. There’s something in here I want to show you."

In the back of the store, near the dressing rooms was a rack full of stuff for men. Well, the packages and rack said it was for men, but it still looked like girl’s stuff to me, slinky and made of shiny fabric. "See, these are what I was telling you about, Donny. They are made especially for guys that like the feel of nice things.

Want some? Just for the fun of it?"

"No way! They’d never fit! That’s girl’s stuff!"

"No, it isn’t, Donny. Look at the tags! The sizes go all the way up to three XL. You don’t need anything that large. A two X is big enough, and will probably be loose on you. How about a nice pair of black skivvies to go with a new pair of pajamas?

You don’t have to wear mine anymore unless you want to. You can have your own sexy pajamas to wear, just like mine."

I jerked my head toward her when she said it. She knew I wanted to wear hers. I’d have to admit I like them because they were hers or agree to her buying me a set of my own. I chickened out. "Sure! Why not! I’ll take some of the ’panties’ too! You don’t have to worry about me wanting yours any more."

She shocked me. She grabbed several packages of briefs, and four pajama sets.

"Good! These will cover you better. The underwear you brought with you to my place was so thin and worn out, I could see through them. Now you have some that are new and decent. So, they’re bold and racy. So what! Bout time you try to keep up with the times. Men don’t have to be plain, Donny. Live a little."

The cashier didn’t even look up when she rang up the sale. Maybe guys do wear this stuff. The place still made me queasy. I wanted to get out of there. Looking at rows and rows of sexy feminine underwear was getting to me. If we didn’t leave soon, I’d have to carry the packages much lower than I had been.

We made it to the car without a hitch! I was shaking like a leaf. Miss Morgan was aware of it, but she didn’t comment on it. She drove straight to her apartment, not over to my house, as I thought she would.

"We’ll keep these things at my place. You’ll be getting dressed there more often than not for the time being."

Whew! I got myself under control as we sped toward her place. If nosy Rosy saw what we were lugging into my house instead of into Miss Morgan’s apartment, she’d have had a fit. We bought more clothes in one trip than I already owned. Guys don’t need a lot of variety like girls to do. I was still worried about how much she spent on me. It must have cost her a small fortune. Her budget for clothes might be sky high because she was a high-price lawyer, but mine wasn’t and I had to remind her that I was living on dad’s very limited unemployment benefits.

"How am I going to pay for all this stuff, Miss Morgan? I can’t afford any of it!"

"By being a good sport and sticking to the program that the aerobics teacher has ready for you to begin on Wednesday. Since I have to work and you’ll be on your own all tomorrow afternoon, I want you to spend the time taking all of your clothes out of the drawers and the closets at your place and lay them out across the bed.

We’ll go through the pile tomorrow night and bag up what isn’t worth keeping. We’ll drop the worst stuff off at ‘Goodwill’, the rest you can wear to do chores and help the neighbors. I mean it, Donny. That wasn’t a request, it was an instruction I expect you to follow without griping about it. You can’t go around in shabby clothes anymore. It won’t look good and I don’t want a hassle from the county or from your neighbors over the way you look in public. I want everyone to see a new and improved version of Don Henderson from now on.

I don’t know a way to candy-coat how to tell you that you lack sufficient pride in your appearance. Maybe you aren’t to blame for it up until to now, but we can’t continue to use that excuse. I have adequate means to provide you with a better wardrobe and steer you toward improving your lax dietary concern.

While I am your guardian, and you stay with me, I expect you to comply with my standards. I mean it, Donny. I want all the junk clothes you have to go. We’ll go shopping again in the evening tomorrow and pick up more new clothes for you. What we bought tonight is only the beginning. We’ll look for the type of clothes that hide the extra weight you carry for a while. I don’t care what it costs. That’s my worry. Your job is to learn how to look as best you can in public from now on. Don’t you care about what people think when they see you?"

I slid my hand under my right armpit. The polo shirt I was wearing had a big hole. I didn’t think it could be seen. The other armpit was threadbare. I was a fat slob. I looked down at the faded jeans in the flashing, hypnotic beams of light from the street lamps we past. The knees were worn out and frayed. Miss Morgan was embarrassed to be seen with me. I shouldn’t have complained to her about the new clothes she got me. I really needed them.

She resented my not being exuberant over her shelling out all that dough. I could have been more considerate and shown more gratitude in a way she expected of me. How was I to know she’d get ticked off? Now, she didn’t sound pleased with my comment about her wasting all the money.

First, she was embarrassed by the way my fat body looks, now she’s upset over the way my clothes look. Mom or Dad never complained about the way I look. Can I help it if my family was broke all the time? We didn’t have money to join a fancy health club for a ‘body beautiful’ or buy tons of fancy duds. My clothes all came from the discount stores, not from the kind of place we went shopping in tonight. She has to cut me some slack. My neighbors don’t wear that kind of stuff either. I belong with them, not with her.

"Take me back home, Miss Morgan. I belong back there, with common people, like me, not with upscale yuppies. I appreciate your zeal, but I’m not cut out to be a high roller like you are. I knew it was too good to last.

I’m sorry, but I can’t fake fitting into your standards. Take me home. If you want to use me to satisfy your ego, you can stop by every day to check up on me and keep the county caseworker happy, but you don’t have to dress me up like the people in your neighborhood to look good enough to be seen with me in public. I don’t want to be that much of a bother. Please turn the car around and take me back. Return all this fancy stuff for a refund and go find someone to care for that fits in where you live. If I stay with you, I’ll feel as if I’m living a bald-faced lie."

She pulled over to the curb and set the hand brake. She stared at me with her mouth open. Then she broke out in tears, and threw herself at me, shocking me, drawing me into her soft bosom, and wrapping her arms around me.

"Oh, Donny. I’m so sorry! Was I being that condescending? I wasn’t criticizing the way your family lives, was I? I thought you’d jump at the chance to live with me in a nicer part of town with better clothes and a lifestyle. I’m sorry. Lord above, back when I was orphaned and destitute, with worse problems than you have, I’d have jumped at the chance to get out of the cesspool I was in. I didn’t mean to be insulting. There’s nothing wrong with lacking nice things. You keep them clean and do the best you can. I wanted to give you nicer things to cheer you up and take your mind off of your problems." She paused and thought for a few seconds to see what I would say. I felt like dirt inside, unable to say how I felt at the time.

"Damn, I was rude. Wasn’t I? I must have sounded like an immature, unfeeling snob. Do I come across as a highfaluting airhead that can’t see straight? I’m not, you know. I thought I made it clear to you that my own teen years were far worse than yours are. Am I so blind that I didn’t realize I was insulting you and the way you live? I must seem cruel to you, instead of what I hoped you would find in me. I want to help you, not hurt you. Please, Donny. Forgive me."

I continued to be quiet and think before I said anything. If I spouted off and told her how she made me feel, she’d slap my face and leave me to the wolves. I had to save the house. If it meant I’d have to suck up to a woman with an agenda for helping destitute young men, why not play the game, too? She wants to play ‘big sister’? Fine, we’ll play. We’ll play until she gets a belly full of me. I’ll let her buy me so much stuff; she’ll OD on her credit cards and then, when she throws in the towel, I’ll sell the clothes and use the money wisely to pay off the creditors. It was time to lay it on the line. She’d either back off or throw me out. I was ready…

"The dig about my clothes looking like rags is the truth. I can’t help that, but you don’t have the right to dictate when, where and how I get rid of them. They’re mine. The things I have are worn out and weather-beaten, sure, but they’re my things, not yours to dispose of.

I don’t think I have to accept any changes in the way I live, nor do you have any right to use me to prove something to all your upscale friends. I am what I am. Trying to make me become some image you have in your head, that I’m not, isn’t going to work. I like you, but if you keep trying to change me into some figment of your imagination, some ‘ideal’ kid brother or stepson, we’re both going to have a very rough time of it, to see who comes out on top.

I like what I am. If you don’t like it, I’d appreciate your saying what you expect of me, and asking me, not demanding me to change for your benefit. Depending on what you expect is reasonable, I want to be able to agree or disagree, so we both can come to a mutual understanding. I won’t become your puppy dog to pat on the head and throw a few bones once in a while, even if those bones are expensive and fit your lifestyle. It isn’t my lifestyle. I’m sorry, but it isn’t me.

Try to see it from where I’m sitting. None of this was my idea, although I thought of you right away when the caseworker wanted me to suggest someone act as my guardian. All I expected was someone that would stop by and check up on me, not someone that wants to rebuild me, like some kind of project or hobby. My being your ward wasn’t your idea either, but now you expect me to do whatever you say, just because I need a guardian while my dad isn’t able to be around.

Somehow, I think I’d rather take my chances with the county caseworker than become some kind of social endeavor of yours. With any luck, they’ll put me in a decent foster home and the bank can sell the house to pay everybody off. Now please drop me off at my house. In the morning, I’ll call the caseworker. She can take it from there. I’ll pack up and be ready for her by the time she can get there."

It was her turn to think before she replied. She took her time, wiped her tears, and stared out into space looking straight into the windshield. I gave her a mouthful to think about. She was a lawyer. I knew I was outclassed, but I didn’t care. I was knee-deep in her shit and didn’t give a damn what she thought.

"Well, EXCUSE me! That was some ultimatum, Donny! You little snot, you! I suppose I had that coming for being so pushy. I didn’t think you had that in you. I had you figured all wrong. I thought you’d want a strong-willed guardian. Boy, did I have you figured out wrong! What am I saying? I was hoping you’d want me to be strong and protect you the way I once needed someone. You don’t need me at all. That puts things in a completely different light, but I still want to help.

You certainly have the guts to say what you mean. I’m proud of you. You’re no wimp when cornered. Let’s not go overboard, yet. We’ll start all over. Give me a chance. I’ll try to listen to what you want, instead of ignoring you because you’re still young. I’ve never done something like this, so I’m bound to mess things up as we go along. If you forgive me, I’ll try to comply with what you want. Deal?"