Emily Clarke steps out of StThomas Hospital and bumps into a man in the doorway.
Excuse me, he says, holding her gaze a moment longer than politeness requires.
The next instant his look turns contemptuous, he turns away and, as if on cue, forgets she even exists.
She has collected countless such looks. Tall, slender girls draw a different reaction; a mans eyes that meet a lithe beauty become sticky and greedy rather than indifferent. The injustice gnaws at Emily; she never asked to be born this way.
As a toddler, everyone praised her chubby cheeks, plump legs and round bottom. In school, during the lineup for PE, she always takes the front spot among the girls.
The bullies call her Fatty and Piggy after the cartoon pig, and worse nicknames she refuses to recall. Children, as she learns, can be brutally cruel. Teachers see the teasing but turn a blind eye.
Emily tries every diet, but the hunger never quits and the lost kilos rush back. She is attractive, yet the extra weight spoils first impressions. She once dreamed of becoming a teacher, but abandons that hope, fearing the same taunts would follow her into the classroom. After school she enrolls in a nursing programme.
When patients are suffering, they care little about the caregivers looks. In her cohort, there are no boys, and the girls are preoccupied with romance and marriage. Emily remains solitary. During lectures the girls ask her to sit in the front row, then hide behind her broad back to avoid the lecturers eye.
She longs for the elegant dresses displayed in shop windows, knowing she will never wear them. She dresses in loose shirts and wide skirts to conceal her shape. She studies well, administers injections skillfully and painlessly, and the summer patients grow fond of her.
One afternoon she joins a group of girls at the local ice rink. Teen boys hurl crude jokes her way. Look, here comes the meat market, they laugh. Their mockery brings tears to her eyes.
Her mother tries to set her up with friends sons. Emily goes on a few dates. One boy pretends not to notice her and walks away; another, before they can even speak, grabs at her. She pushes him away, and he falls backwards into a puddle. What are you doing? I made you happy. Who do you think you are? he shouts. Emilys tears swallow her voice. She swears off dating, preferring solitude.
On her socialmedia profile she picks a picture of Fiona from *Shrek* as her avatar. When a man messages asking what she looks like in real life, she replies, Exactly like this, just not green. He takes it as a joke, writes, You must be tired of clingy admirers and are trying to scare them off, and asks her out. She instantly ends the conversation.
Later, a sixyearold boy darts into the ward corridor.
Where are you running? People are ill here; you cant be noisy, Emily says, catching his hand.
I wanted to skate on the linoleum, he admits honestly.
Who are you with? she asks.
Dad and Grandma. Wheres the toilet?
She leads him to the end of the corridor. Do you need help? he looks at her with a pleading gaze, but she feels no offense. Soon the sound of running water signals a bathroom, and the boy follows her.
Now lets go, show me which ward your Grandma is in, she says.
He sighs and waddles alongside her, stopping at a door. He adopts a serious face, presses a finger to his mouth, and points. I think this one, he says, indicating Ward4.
Emily raises an eyebrow. You didnt check the number? Or you cant read? she teases, noting the ward is for men.
He retorts, I know all the numbers, Im not small. Look, and points to Ward5.
Ah, you little rascal, Emily pretends to scold, and he bursts into laughter.
Whats your name? she asks.
Tommy, he answers just as the door to Ward5 swings open, revealing a tall, pleasantlooking man.
The man eyes Tommy sharply. Tommy, why so long? he asks, then notices Emily. He glances at her, assesses her appearance in a split second, and his interest fades.
Did he have fun? the man inquires.
Emily has seen countless indifferent, disdainful male glances.
He didnt, she replies, Dont be hard on him, and walks away.
Lets go, say goodbye to Grandma, were out of time, she hears behind her. The next day Tommy and his dad visit Grandma again. The man passes Emily without a glance. She sticks out her tongue at him. Tommy turns, laughs, gives a thumbsup, and Emily smiles and waves.
Later, Emily enters Ward5.
Good morning, MrsHannah, she says. Did your grandson visit?
Did you see him? Hes such a wonderful boy. I wish I could watch him grow, she sighs.
Not yet, youll still be caring for grandchildren, Emily replies cheerfully.
May God help you. His mother, Hannah begins, then stops.
Its not his mother, Emily interjects.
Its a stepgrandson, but we love him as our own. My son married a beautiful woman who later confessed she already has a son. My husband suffered a heart attack, and now Im in the hospital, Hannah explains.
Two years ago, Tommys mother received a lucrative modeling contract abroad and left. She couldnt have a child, and the women my son dates are all selfabsorbed, she adds. Tommy rejects them.
Emily spends the day absorbing Hannahs story. When she returns to give an injection, Hannah hands her a drawing.
Dont worry, Hannah, youre alright, Emily says.
The picture shows a boy holding his parents handsclearly Tommy and his family.
Hes looking for his mother, Hannah says. I think he drew you, Emily.
Emily protests, No, he drew his mother.
He no longer remembers her; she was thin, but now the mother is drawn larger than the father. Look, Hannah croaks, tears welling.
Emily realises the drawing emphasises her size, Even a child sees Im big. Ill never be as handsome as Tommys father, she muses. From then on, each visit, they exchange a few lines. The next time Tommy appears, he approaches Emily.
Good day. Are your hands steady? he asks.
Im not sure, she replies.
Grandma says Im in good hands. Ill be discharged soon, and my birthday is next week, he adds.
Emily says shell come, but must ask his fathers permission. Tommy dashes off to his fathers ward. The next day, Mark and his son wait for Emily at the nurses station.
Dad, you promised, Tommy tugs his fathers sleeve as Emily approaches.
Mark smiles, I remember. Im inviting you both to my sons birthdayhell be six. Heres the address and phone number. Well be there Saturday at one, if you have no other plans.
Emily, cheeks flushed, replies, My weeks free.
Mark adds, Tommy will be waiting. If you dont come, hell be sad, and so will my mother, who cant afford worry.
Emily thinks, A whole week to lose a few pounds. She tells her own mother about Tommy.
You must go. Boys understand more than grown men. Who knows, maybe youll end up with his father? Dont look at me, the boy is searching for his mum.
Her mother sighs, His father never looks my way.
She reassures, He cares about the childs feelings, not just his own. Otherwise hed have married another model by now.
Saturday morning, Emily ties her hair, chooses a modest dress, lightly tints her lashes, and grimaces at her reflection. No amount of makeup will make me skinny. She grabs the gift she bought a week ago for Tommys birthday.
She presses the intercom button, the lock clicks, her heart pounds.
Emilys here, Tommy shouts, rushing to hug her as far as his arms reach. She smooths his cropped hair and hands him the present. His eyes sparkle at the colourful box.
A festively set table stands in the middle of the room. At one end sits Mark with a striking blonde, at the other a elderly gentlemanTommys grandfather, David.
Meet my saviour, Emily, Mark says, introducing her to the blonde, and this is my husband, Boris I mean David, the lady, Sophie, mutters. The blonde raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
During dinner, a wine glass slips from Sophies sleeve, spilling onto the blondes lap; the chair behind her collapses, causing a small commotion. Sophie, flustered, gathers herself and prepares to leave. Emily also stands.
Dont take offense, but Mark begins.
Offended? I think its time I go, Emily replies. Your mother made a special cake. Let me take you home.
In the car, silence settles. Emily finally speaks, I didnt ask to be escorted.
Mark says, My mother would never forgive me if I didnt see you off. You keep crossing my path. Dont be surprised if she decides to marry us.
I dont love you, nor you me. I wont marry you, Emily says, her voice trembling. Dont worry, Ill try not to appear in your sight again.
The car stops outside a house. Emily tries the locked door.
Open it now, she shouts.
Mark leans in and kisses her. Emily pushes him away hard.
Whats this? Tired of blondes? Prefer the plump? Decided to have a bit of fun with me? Ah, of course. I should thank you for the attention, she snaps, eyes flashing, face flushed. She never imagined she could look so fierce. Mark, smitten, watches her. The other blondes preen themselves, icy.
Im sorry, truly. I dont know what came over me, Mark stammers.
No man has ever kissed me, except those who wanted to make me happy like you. People look at me with pity, dismiss me without trying to know me, Emily fumes and steps out of the car.
By late August, the weather turns chilly, rain and wind lash the streets, leaves tumble down. Three weeks have passed since Tommys birthday. Emily returns from work, slipping off her soaked shoes.
Did a young man visit you? her mother asks from the hallway.
What man?
A handsome, elegant one. He seemed nervous, asked you to call him.
Emily dials Marks number on the kitchen counter.
This is Emily. Tommys ill. Could you come? He needs his injections.
Im on my way! Mark replies. Emily hurries to dress, remembering she forgot to check if the clinic has alcohol wipes and syringes. She darts to the pharmacy, buys everything.
Tommy brightens when he sees Emily. Sweatdamp hair clings to his forehead, a sign his temperature is dropping. She washes her hands, prepares the injection, and says, Remember, I have steady hands, so dont worry.
Tommy closes his eyes tightly, then opens them, admitting the pinch was only a little painful.
Mark watches Emily, his gaze lingering longer than anyone ever has. She blushes, feels awkward, yet somehow more beautiful. Her heart flutters like a bird.
Mark drives her home again.
Emily, shall we stop at a café? We never really talked.
Youre doing this for the boy? No need. Ill keep hoping, but you cant love me. Im too heavy.
Too heavy? Youre warm, soft, kind. Children never lie; they cant be fooled. Tommy likes you. I like you. I think we could build a solid family.
What if Tommys mother returns?
She wont. She signed away any claim and agreed to a divorce. She remarried. The boy is mine. So, will you go on a date with me?
Yes, Emily replies simply.
Everyone has a person, a other half, whether the match is perfect or not, but life is harsher without them. Appearances matter less than the soul they recognise. And love? Perhaps love is what lets a plump duck see a swan, or a fullerfigured girl discover a tender, loving heart made just for her.
