Weightless

                It started at a typical dinner with the guys. Eric has a larger-than-normal plate because he skipped breakfast that day. John teased him and said, “That’s why you're getting fat.” Everyone laughed, even sweet-hearted Michael. John then said he was only joking, but the words stuck. Was he really getting fat? Michael had the healthiest appetite of them all, known for his temper when he hadn't eaten, and yet John didn’t say a word. Eric only took small bites, moved the food around, then excused himself. He looked at himself in the mirror. “The Idle cheeks.” All Idle men, except his father, who died young, were dashing men, and then somewhere in their 30s, they get these chubby cheeks, yet they didn't have a career in television, but he did. He decided right there and then to go on a strict diet, but strictness turned to obsession.

                He puffed on cigarettes when hunger called him, and since he writes skits alone, no one noticed he often skipped lunch. When he did join them for drinks, he wouldn't get meals and justified whisky as bread and jam juice. Whisky wasn't as sweet as jam, so he could still have something sweet without all the problems that extra sugar brought. A huge plus was that after a drink or two, he got very sleepy and didn’t have to worry about food weight making the scale go up. He once drank nothing but whisky all day and wasn’t aware that it was dehydrating him, so when he was down a pound the very next day, he considered it a miracle. Toast and egg in the morning, a jog to offset that, no lunch, then whisky for dinner.

                The times he couldn’t get out of eating, he kept down food for only an hour. With trial and error, he found an hour to be his sweet spot. He tried to read up on as much as he could about calories, almost becoming obsessed. He measured his waist, and when it went down an inch, he was elated, a high as he rode for days. On his birthday, he only ate one slice of cake, let everyone else enjoy the festivities, and told Michael he could take as much as he wanted home, which he did without question or pause. Still, he checked his face often, and when he saw a pic of him in sunglasses, his cheeks seemed to spill out under them, he threw that pair away.

                Then, one day, it happened: Graham and Eric were doing a strenuous scene, and Eric collapsed in front of everyone. Graham, who can switch easily from comedy to Dr. Mode in a second, ushered people to give him room to breathe and carefully stroke his hair, careful not to move his neck, and checked his vitals. Eric came to and was instantly embarrassed. He quickly sputtered out an excuse, "Sorry, everyone, I haven’t been feeling well.” John looked aghast. “Well, don't get us all sick,” Eric quipped, “don’t worry, John, I already spit in your coffee.” John looked cross and rolled his eyes. Graham addressed everyone, "Enough, come on, Eric, you need some water and probably should go get a check-up.” “You’re the doctor, can’t you tell I’m fine, let’s get on with it, I can power through.” Graham, not convinced, said, “Fine, but eat something first.” “Starve a fever, you know, doc?” “I am enough of a doctor to know that is a myth.” Graham went to the meal table and grabbed a scone. He gave it to Eric. And Eric immediately panicked. He tried to guess the calories in his head, but then he kept thinking of more ingredients and started over. He lingered too long, worried people would catch on. He quickly grabbed the scone and ate it hungrily. It was like heaven in his mouth; he almost wanted to cry from pleasure, it was so soft and buttery, but he quickly composed himself and said, “Now come on! We still have hours to go!” They did have hours, which actually made him panic. What if he couldn’t get to the bathroom in time? What if the others heard?

                Eric got through the scene just fine and quickly went to the bathroom and purged what he could. He couldn’t flush, but he felt the scene offset some of the calories and made peace with it. At home, he drank 2 cups of whisky; he wanted to sleep quickly. The warm liquor helped him not feel so cold from being thin and underfed. He felt it was truly a miracle. He kept thinking about food; the only downfall to alcohol was that it made him feel hungry, which he tried to offset with more cigarettes. But that scone was on his mind, and he wanted more. He decided to play the distraction song he wrote. He sat on the edge of his bed and strummed the familiar chords and started to sing. (Author's Note: The Song is Weightless by Mi Helaskoski. I own nothing.)

                “Hi, my name is Ana, and I'm here to save you

Very smart of you to call me

We will work together, and we'll leave no footprints

We'll have wings eventually

I want to embrace you

I will help you to control

I will hurt like hell

I will swallow your sweet soul

It will be nailed to your jawbone

It is painted on the mirror

Stripped to the bone

To the soul, to the I don't know

Stripped to the core to the matter

To the flesh and oh!

Stripped to the four in the morning lies

And lullabies

Stripped without clothes without dirt

Without baggage, without consciousness, and you are weightless.

“You are weightless…”

Eric played it over and over until he finally felt drowsy and fell asleep.

                The next morning, everyone was waiting for Graham, who came with food and darted right to Eric. “Morning, Eric, did you have a chance to eat?” Eric was frozen. There seemed to be no right or wrong answer, but he took his chances: “Yeah, I did.” “What did you eat?” “Eggs, toast, and bacon.” “Hmm, not enough. If you’re feeling unwell, perhaps you should eat a bit more. We have a long day ahead of us.” Damn it, he knew there wouldn't be a right or a wrong answer. Eric tried to dodge. “No, that’s okay, I'm not hungry, I had enough.” “As your doctor, I implore you to eat.” “You are not my doctor! You will never be my doctor! I prefer my doctors not to be a raging drunk before 5 pm.” “Then you will never have a doctor.” Graham quipped. John interrupted them, “Come on, he doesn’t need to be babysat, he ate, and he looks fine, he’ll eat later.” Eric was so grateful to John at that moment and wished he could tell him. At lunch, he said he needed to run an errand to the post office to avoid Graham, but by the end of the day, he was happy to be heading home.

                Though he hadn’t eaten all day and didn’t have any cigarettes left, he went to the corner store to get more. He justified that a small can of soup couldn’t hurt, but, like he was possessed, he quickly grabbed crisps and biscuits, bought his cigarettes, and rushed home. He tore into the bag of crisps and scarfed them down, then he finished off the biscuits. The minute it was gone, he felt horrible and bloated. He couldn’t purge now; it would be too thick and almost choke him. He paced, thinking about how much he had to work out. “Maybe I can jog for an hour straight, just don’t rest, push!” He looked in his mirror and grabbed his cheeks in, dug in to them with his fingernails as if he wanted to rip them off and scream. “Why damn it, why?!”

                There was a knock at the door. Not now, he thought, maybe he can dispatch them quickly. He hurriedly opened the door to see Graham standing there with more food. Graham looked smug and said, “House call.” “You are not my doc-“ “Thankyou for inviting me in.” Graham brushed past Eric and set the food down. “Did you eat?” Graham asked. “What is bloody with you? You act like I am on my deathbed. "Eric went to the junk food  and said, “Here you go, mum, crisps and biscuits are all empty.” Graham studied the food and said, “Just bought hmmm. Not much of a meal.” “Graham, I’m busy if you don't mind.” “I actually do mind, excuse me.” Graham went over to Eric's refrigerator and, before Eric could stop him, he opened it and peeked inside. All that stared back was whisky and a few eggs. “Interesting,” Graham said. “Nothing is interesting about it. I was going to go shopping tomorrow.” Then Eric had a great idea. If he got Graham drunk, he either passed out and didn't notice he was purging or left after a drink. Either way, he was relieved and offered Graham a drink.

                Though Graham wouldn’t let it go, “This will go nicely with our dinner.” “I’m full of junk food.” “Nonsense, I’ve seen you put away much more than that.” “I’m sick, remember I don’t have much of an appetite.” “That makes sense if you were sick with a cold, perhaps, but you’re not.” “What are you implying?” Eric asked, starting to panic. Graham continued, “Skipping meals, fainting, little food in the house, avoiding lunch, and you checking almost every reflective surface you walk by. Eric, it seems you have an eating disorder.” Eric became livid and started to scream, “Get the fuck out of my house, Graham!” “That’s an overreaction to something that is not the truth, unless it is.” “No, this is fucking madness. If you wanted to be a doctor, you should’ve fucking stayed one. I am not a patient, and I do not have anything wrong with me. Get out on your own, in a stretcher or in handcuffs, your choice.”

                “You'd really hit me? You call the cops on your friend? Your friend who left his lover, his night, and hasn’t had a drink because I had to check on you?” Eric's heart hurt. He was touched, but he couldn’t tell Graham. Once he did, Graham would never let him go, and Graham is not good with secrets when he is drunk. Soon, all eyes would be on him, and he felt the others would laugh, and Michael, who acted like his sole purpose in life was to be walking perfection, would hover over him with worry. Eric did the only thing he could do: lie. “You got me, I'm on a diet, a very strict one, black coffee, eggs, and toast, then a salad for lunch,” “But you haven’t been eating lunch.” “It’s tiresome  to make a bloody salad every day.” “And for dinner, are crisps on the menu?” “Of course not, I was going to pick up something, but I just wanted a cheat day.” “So luckily for you, I brought dinner, right? You already ruined your diet, you might as well have a balanced meal.” Eric became irritated, but there was no getting rid of Graham, and the roast chicken and potatoes seemed to die for.

                After eating, Eric watched Graham intently as he nursed the one drink he had been given, which was out of character for him. Eric tried to hurry things along. "Don't you think it’s getting late?” “Nonsense, the night is still young, besides, your eyes keep darting to the loo, and I’m a bit concerned.” “Maybe I just have to go to the loo.” “Well, don’t let me stop you, just make sure you're keeping your food down.” Eric finally exploded, “Ok, you fucker, I have an eating disorder, and you know what, there is not a damn thing you can do about it! So go ahead, tell everyone when you’re too pissed together, and all of you can get a punch in the mouth if you don’t leave me alone about it! Now fuck off!” Eric starts to dart to the bathroom, and Graham grabs him. He takes a swing at Graham, and Graham blocks it. He shoves Graham and tries to run again, but Graham grips his arms and spins him to the ground. Graham was just as skinny as Eric, but he rock-climbs, and his grip is vicious. “Damn it, Graham, get out of the way.” Eric balls up his fist, and Graham said, “Right then, a fight, let’s go if that’s what it will take.” Eric's eyes were filled with rage as he steadied himself to fight Graham, but there Graham was, composed as ever. Eyes looked calm. Now Eric was starting to doubt himself; Graham was a few inches taller and didn’t seem scared of a fight. Maybe Eric was about to get his ass kicked. It was a mix of frustration and affection for being cared for that led Eric to break down. He grabbed his hair and screamed, “You don't understand!” And crashed to his knees.

                Graham kneeled next to him, “What don’t I understand?” “I’m fat.” “I think you’re mistaken.” “I'm getting fat.” “Mistaken again, Eric. “Are you honestly saying I look the same as when you first met me?” “Of course not, your hair is longer.” That broke the tension, and Eric couldn’t help but laugh. Eric stood up and said, “Here, let me show you something.” Eric motioned Graham to take a seat, and he brought out his photobook. As he flipped through it, he said, “This is my great-grandfather, my grandfather, my dad. Except for my dad, since he died, all the men in my family have the Idle cheeks. Once I hit 30, these cheeks are going to inflate if I am not careful.” Graham started laughing, and Eric slammed the book, “See, I knew you would laugh.” “I’m laughing because you’re being silly, those are genetics, you have to be a walking skeleton to avoid it, and I am not letting you do that. Look, Eric, I know I can have loose lips, but I promise I will try to think of a million other things so I won’t even remember I have this secret. When did all this start?” “We were at a restaurant, and I had a big meal, and John said I was getting fat, and everyone laughed at me.” “Eric, please, we take pot shots at each other all the time, you take plenty at John’s expense. I'm sure John didn’t mean anything by it. Let me see that book.”

                Eric handed Graham his photobook, and Graham studied the picture of his father, “He died when you were 4?” “2 actually.” “My God, you mustn’t have any memories of him at all.” “No, I don’t.” Graham closed the book and extended his hand to Eric, who was a little reluctant but took it. Graham then walked him into the bathroom. There Graham made him face the mirror and said in a smoldering voice, "Look at you, just as handsome as your old man. If you do get his cheeks, it's a way for him to always be with you. Is that really the worst thing in the world?” Eric started to feel overwhelmed inside, “I guess not. I think I like that.” “If you want to diet, do it the right way, but don’t run from who you are; that would be such a waste. You’re beautiful, Eric.” Eric felt so warm, and Graham's strong hands were comforting; he thought he could breathe easily. Graham broke the moment, “Right then, best prepare for bed. I will take another drink and make my way to the couch.” “You’re sleeping here?!” “Of course, I can’t leave you tonight. If eating disorders were resolved that quickly, we wouldn’t have clinics.” “You’re really too tall for my couch, “your bed it is, I hope you don't mind, I’m a wild sleeper.” Eric was taken aback, but he knew it was pointless arguing with Graham.

                As Graham lay in Eric’s bed, he asked, “Want to hear the song that has been keeping me steady?” “Right after you pour me another drink.” Eric did so and played weightless for Graham. Graham looked disgusted, “That song is horrid, not your best work, never play it again.” “Well, you can’t really stop me from playing it.” Just then, he grabbed his E string and ripped it out. “Hey, I still need that or other songs.” “Then we can pick up one tomorrow, anything to stop you from playing that horrible song, it’s just going to make you sicker. "Eric was annoyed at having to replace a string, but he couldn’t stay mad at Graham; everything Graham did tonight was because he cared so much about Eric, and Eric was starting to become very infatuated with Graham.

                At work, Eric was on guard. Graham hadn’t said anything, but he had a few drinks at lunch, and still, no one treated Eric any differently. Even Graham didn’t hint at anything about his discovery, only shooting him a glance when Eric tried to order a salad and ordered a sandwich too. Graham looked satisfied, and Eric ate nervously.  When Eric was heading home, Graham caught up with him. “Don’t leave me behind.” “You’re coming over again tonight?!”“To reiterate, if people were cured that fast, we wouldn’t need clinics.” “Would you keep it down, you want the whole bloody studio to hear. Just get in the car! "Graham and Eric had gone shopping. Graham made Eric get a lot of balanced meals and some fun meals, and he had to fight Eric to keep them in the basket. At home, Graham nursed a drink as Eric cooked, and he watched him eat.

                After dinner, Eric was restless and asked to go on a jog. “Nope,” Graham quipped. “Nothing is wrong with a jog.” “There isn’t, but you shouldn’t use it to undo calories; it'll just put you in punishment mode. Besides, there might be something good on the telly, if you really want to work out, maybe one of these days I’ll take you rock climbing.” “Never, you know, how you avoid falling to your death, by not climbing heights.” “Aww, you’re afraid of heights?” “No, the jagged rocks at the bottom.” They both shared a laugh. “I promise I am going to get you to go some day, you’ll love it.”  They enjoyed their night together, and Graham kept joining Eric, who was annoyed at first but came to look forward to their evenings together. They had deep talks. Eric played him music and guarded his guitar strings. They played cards, and both mocked modern cinema together. More importantly, Eric was keeping his food down.

                On Sunday, Eric was finally allowed to weigh himself, and he started to freak out.” 2 lbs, damn it, Graham, I told you I was going to get fat!” “What world do you live in, where two pounds is fat?” “Next it will be five!” “It will not, let me tell you medically what has been happening. You have been underfed, and your body is holding on to food more. The sodium in your food is making you bloat. Your body is stressed. Then there is the food weight. In actuality, you may have gained 0.5lb, and the rest is just maintaining your weight. Personally, I think you do best if you put on more, actually, but that will make your head spin. Trust me, you're fine.” Eric stepped off the scale, grabbed his measuring tape, and, sure enough, he was precisely the exact inches. “Wow, Graham, you were right.” “It's almost as if I’m a doctor. Come on, let’s have a drink, tomorrow you can go on a run.” “You won’t join me?” “Nope, I don’t know if you noticed, but I have been slowing down on the drinking, and I am overdue for a hearty drink. I’ll be lucky if I am up before noon.” Eric smiled. He did notice that Graham had slowed way down, and he couldn’t be more thankful for him. He made their drinks, and they drank happily.

                Later in the night, Eric asked, “Do you think all this alcohol is going to make me gain an extra pound?” “Oh my god, shut up.” Graham took his and Eric's drink and stated drunkenly. “You’re beautiful, damn it, beautiful.” Graham kissed Eric's lips, and Eric grew warm and flustered. “Graham, what about David?” “We have an open relationship, mainly when I’m on tour, he understands, and I have been wanting those cheeks since I met you.” “You mean the one on my face, right?” “Both,” Graham said seductively. He continued the kiss and stroked Eric's hair. Eric melted into the kiss. He noticed Graham was very sexy himself, but living with him for this short while, he felt Graham was also attentive and fun. He felt so close to him.

                Graham undid his pants and said, “Eat, you’re hungry.” Eric went to his knees and took the tall gentleman in his mouth. He licked slowly and admired Graham. Graham stroked Eric's face and said, “You’re so lovely, I can tell you’ve been hungry a long time.” Graham bucked his hips wildly into Eric, and Eric took him deeply. “The bed, Eric, get in the bed.” Eric went to the bedroom and undressed. Graham lubed himself up and used his strong hands to flip Eric on his stomach. He climbed on top of him, and he eagerly inserted himself. Eric gasped as Graham hit his prostate. He let out low moans as Graham rode him. “Baby, you feel so amazing, my god. Give me that tiny, tight body.” Eric shyly asked, “Please tell me that I’m beautiful again.” You’re beautiful, you’re so fucking gorgeous! "Graham exclaimed loudly as he finished with Eric. Graham lay on Eric, breathing his warm breath in his ear. He climbed off slowly and turned Eric over. He went down on Eric to finish him off, and Eric pulled his hair slightly, and he arched his back and came wildly in his mouth. When Graham was done, he cuddled next to Eric, kissed his face, and laughed. “Happy now, you had your damn workout. "They both laughed together, and Eric fell asleep in Graham's arms.

                The next morning, Graham was severely hungover and hardly mumbled any words to Eric, and when Graham reached up for a kiss, he stumbled past him. Eric just chalked it up to Graham not being a morning person. At work, things were business as usual. Graham and John worked on their sketch, and Eric worked alone as always. Eric skipped lunch to see if Graham noticed or even cared. And Graham didn’t. After everyone was leaving, Eric caught up to Graham.

                “Graham, where are you going?” “To the pub, David is meeting me there, he’s my ride home.” “Oh, what time are you coming over?” “Coming over?” Eric started to feel sick to his stomach, “to watch me, you know my secret.” “What secret?” Eric was crushed. Graham did promise him he would forget, but Eric didn’t want it this way; he felt they were building something together. “Graham, why do you think you've been coming over all last week?” “I was watching you because…what was it again?” Eric was devastated that the one person he could tell, the one person who shared his world and kept his secret, was now gone. “Graham, do you even remember that we made love last night?” “Yes, it was a wild night, but I should tell you it was a one-time thing. David is my heart; I should save it for when I am on tour, as we agreed. I don’t want to chase off the one person who has been therefor me from the jump.” “So I was just a drunk lay to you?” Graham looked Eric dead in the eyes, then kissed him on the cheek. “You will always be more than a drunk lay, you are a dear friend, but just a friend, okay.” Eric felt heartbroken, but before Eric came out as bi, David was there for Graham when Graham was open, and it truly would be no contest. Eric started to tear up, and Graham stroked his cheek, “I had fun, Eric, thank you for the good time. I'll see you at work tomorrow.” With that, he saw the tall man walk away, getting smaller and smaller in his sight.

                Graham never did tell his secret, and Eric liked to believe somewhere inside he knew and fought his drunk self as promised to forget. His eating disorder sometimes reared its head, and a part of him wanted to tell Graham and recapture those nights, but other times he tried to keep them cemented where they were and proved he was strong enough to handle it. When Graham stopped drinking, it was also the day Eric secretly stopped all disordered eating, which made him feel closer to Graham. Then 2 months after Graham died, Eric went to an isolated park with a picture of Graham.