Counting Calories

by

Susan J. Kroupa

Robert had said 7:30, so I was about ten minutes early. It had been six
months since I'd moved out, but his voice still played in the back of my
mind, as if he'd implanted a "Jenny don't" chip before I left. "Jenny don't
be late. People whose lives are in control are punctual."

I'd left work late, of course, control never being a defining feature of my
life, but I was lucky. Traffic had been almost non-existent. I hadn't
driven to downtown Salt Lake City in over a year, and had expected it to
be busier. Everybody was eating at home, I guessed, with restaurants
being so expensive these days.

But the parking lot of El Hombre Gordo was surprisingly full. As I pulled
in, I saw two lifers leaning against the side of the restaurant. They were
there illegally, of course. Laws had been passed to make sure the people
going out to eat didn't have their appetite spoiled by contact with those
who were starving. I glanced quickly at them and then away, but just the
sight send a shiver down my spine.

El Hombre was Robert's idea, not mine, though my heart had started
pounding the minute he'd mentioned it on the phone. Just to be fair, I'd suggested we eat at Hunan House--I hear they have literally beefed up the menu--but Robert had said nothing sticks like Mexican, and so I'd agreed, sighing with relief that he hadn't changed his mind.

I wondered, though, if Robert was aware of the irony in choice of restaurants,
or if he'd deliberately picked it to show he wasn't afraid of running into Mike.
Mike and I used to eat at El Hombre so often we joked about buying the place, and I'd heard through the grapevine that eventually he did, long after I'd left
him for Robert and what I thought was going to be a better life. Mike and I'd had our first date there, and we'd returned again and again for a series of endless conversations over enchiladas and tacos. I didn't weigh then what I do now, of course, and eating had a different quality to it.

I parked the car and pulled on the brake. Maybe Robert wasn't afraid of
running into Mike, but suddenly I was. I should have insisted on another restaurant. What would he think when he saw me? I wore the usual padding
to hide my condition, but there was nothing I could do about my face.

Of course, Mike might not be there at all. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I had enough to worry about with Robert, who certainly would be there, divorce settlement in hand. I sucked the last of my shake to fortify me
for the encounter, brushed the doughnut crumbs off my skirt, checked that
the padding was properly tucked and invisible, and then locked the car.

Walking around to the front, I saw the two lifers, a boy and a girl, positioned
just out of sight of the restaurant's side window. It was hard to tell how old
they were--late teens, maybe. Young enough to look as if they belonged in Africa or some third world country. I never thought this could happen in
America, that we'd see such things right here in Salt Lake City...

The complete story can be found in the anthology AGE OF REASON.
Read it at http://www.sff.net/books