Текст книги "Forgive Us Our Trespasses"
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
2012
Vivian
“Babe, have you seen Cricket’s shoes? We’ve looked everywhere and can’t find them,” Will shouts from Emma’s room. I finish brushing my hair into a messy bun, and head out the bathroom door to retrieve the missing shoes. They are at the front door, of course, along with all of the other shoes. I’m not sure why we still have to go through this daily scavenger hunt, when the shoes–surprise, surprise–never move unless the kids’ feet are in them.
I swing down, pick up her sparkly pink shoes, and travel toward the contagious laughter coming from her room. Leaning into the doorframe, I cradle her shoes and watch as Will rolls around on the ground with our daughter. She tries to get away from his grip, but he finds a leg or an arm and pulls her back into his continuous tickles. I’m glad I hadn’t fixed her hair yet, as the carpet static has taken hold and her hair is sticking up in all directions; her curls are now a giant ball of fuzz on top of her head. It warms my heart to see them like this, and a smile creeps across my face as I silently eavesdrop on them.
“Bombs away,” Blake screams, barreling past me and jumping on Will’s back. With the distraction, Emma is able to slip free from Will’s grasp and jumps on his back. Both kids are shouting, “Get Daddy, get Daddy!” I only laugh because I know the next move in the usual tickle game of theirs. Will reaches back and plucks them off one-by-one and pins them to the ground; he then alternates between the two, tickling them mercilessly. They both become breathless and beg for mercy, and that’s my cue to intervene.
“Okay, Daddy, I think you won,” I chuckle, stepping into the room. All three have collapsed onto the ground on their backs, recovering from their near-hyperventilation. I dangle Emma’s shoes over their heads, “Come on, guys. If we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late for the game.”
“See, guys? Nothing is actually lost unless Momma doesn’t know where it’s at,” Will says. Oh what a true statement that is. I love this man, but man, he is constantly losing things. All is lost, the world is ending, because Will has lost his keys, or wallet, or favorite Bronco hat…again. Usually it’s sitting in plain sight. There is no magic GPS app imbedded under my skin, but I’ll certainly let them all continue to believe in my super-human tracking powers.
Will reaches up to take the shoes, but instead of taking hold of them, he grabs my wrists and begins to pull me down to the ground. “Mommy’s turn; get her!”
I gasp in surprise and am thrown off balance enough that I tumble to the floor. Blake and Emma immediately begin wiggling their miniature fingers against my sides and under my arms. I join in the fun and laugh, but it’s not until Will begins to attack my knees that I lose complete control. My hands fly to his, trying to push away from his strong grip and scream through laughs, pleading for him to release me.
“What do you think, guys? Have we tortured her enough?” he asks the kids.
“Yes,” I yelp. “Momma’s done. Will, please,” I add with a giggle.
“All right, I think she paid the toll. Let’s get up and finish getting ready.” The kids jump up immediately, and Will slowly stands, holding a hand out to help me up. I lay flat for a minute in silent protest before taking his offer.
Once I’m standing again, I reach up to feel my disheveled hair. It had been a stylish messy up-do; now it’s closer to the rat’s-nest messy end of the spectrum. “Will, look at this mess. We need to be leaving, and now I have to go re-fix my hair,” I whine.
“Hush, woman, there could be an actual bird nesting in there and you’d still be gorgeous,” he says, pointing to my hair. “Now, grab your bag and let’s go soccer it up.” He slaps my ass hard enough to make me squeal, and then waltzes out of the bedroom grinning.
“Load up, crew!” I hear him yell from the hallway, as I stand in place, rubbing my injured butt-cheek. His playfulness was always something I adored about him, but sometimes, I swear it feels like I’m raising three kids instead of two.
After a quick hair intervention for Emma and myself, as well as a round of, ‘Hun, have you seen the car keys?’ we all make it to the SUV. Armed with our chairs, cooler, sparkly shoes, and shin guards, we pull away from our comfortable little farm house, and out onto the dirt driveway to head to the next town over for Blake’s peewee soccer game.
I knew that when Will and I moved back to my hometown after we got married, life would slow down. I’ve experienced both ways of living, and rural life is drastically different from in the city. Trips to the nearest grocery store are planned events. Attending your kids’ sporting events always means travelling more than thirty minutes to another town. Everyone knows everyone, and is always interested in the latest gossip; thus, you never go on said grocery trip in your sweatpants, because you WILL run into someone you know or are related to. The thing is I never appreciated those things growing up; I saw it all as an inconvenience. Now that we have children though, I value our little cocoon; it’s small, and it’s safe.
The kids in the back seat are busy singing the newest songs that they’ve been taught at preschool–ones that I’ve learned to tune out after hearing them for the millionth time. What is cute one minute can quickly feel like nails on a chalkboard, and turning up the car stereo encourages them to belt out their tunes even louder. So Will and I have mastered the skill of tuning out while in the car. It’s a fine art.
I stare out the window, into the never-ending corn and alfalfa fields, most of which have already been harvested. The corn that is still in the ground will be used for cow feed, and many farmers have begun readying their acreage for late planting. The rows of fields are almost hypnotic.
These are the times when I let my mind travel to places it shouldn’t…Brooks. I know that I absolutely love Will; he pieced me back together when I thought I was broken beyond repair. He loved me until I was ready to love myself again. But every now and then, Brooks will infiltrate the security that Will and I built together. He and I were a lifetime ago, and as much as I wish I didn’t, I still have this space in my heart for him. As much as I love Will, Brooks is someone I could never forget.
I feel Will’s large hand wrap around my thigh; he gently squeezes, pulling me from my thoughts. “What’s going on in that head of yours, love? You worried about the kids staying at Charlotte’s house tonight?” he asks with a gentle smile.
“No, the kids will be fine. I’m just thinking about the lesson plans and grading I need to get done tomorrow for school on Monday.” I’m completely lying through my teeth, but I’m positive that he wouldn’t want to hear, nor would he understand the truthful version. I don’t regret for one second my life with Will; he and the kids have become my life. But there are times that Brooks creeps in, and I think about what life would have been like with him. I don’t know what was going on with him, why he cheated, but I never got a chance to find out. No sooner did our relationship end, he left school and I never heard from him again. It left a void in me that Will eventually fixed.
A crooked grin spreads across his face, “Well, I promise you’ll want to sleep in before you get started on school stuff tomorrow. I have plenty planned to keep you awake tonight. We haven’t been on a date night in months, and I’m not going to waste a single second of it.”
I reach my hand up to the back of Will’s neck and begin lightly scratching the base of his hairline with my fingernails. It’s one of his favorite things, and his eyes close briefly to enjoy the sensation. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got, Mr. Matthews,” I coo into his ear as I lean across the seat console.
He takes his hand off my thigh and grips the steering wheel tightly; a low throaty groan escapes his mouth. I pat his neck and return to my seat with a huge grin on my face; yup, we both can be playful. “You are a wicked woman, Mrs. Matthews,” he says, attempting to adjust himself. “You’ll pay for that later,” he adds with a wink.
“I’m counting on it,” I tell him, reaching across the seat to feel his excitement, which only makes his condition worse. He quickly removes my hand and places it on my own thigh. “As much I love where this is headed, we are almost there, and I don’t want to be the creepy dad at the game who can’t stand and cheer for his son because his zipper is about to break.”
I laugh and hold my hands up in surrender, “Sorry, take a second and get it under control; I need you to carry all of the stuff to the field.”
Will glances at me from the corner of his eye, “I’m glad you find me useful. I am here to serve,” he jokes.
As soon as he pulls into the parking lot and puts the car into park, both kids unbuckle and begin to demand that we open their doors. Thank goodness for child lock, or on multiple occasions we would have had two small children running wild in between cars before we could even get our seatbelts off.
Will hits the button for the back hatch, and we pile out to let the munchkins loose and gather our soccer tailgating supplies. We make our way to the field to set up our cheering site along the sideline. Charlotte and her husband, Elton, are already there, along with my mother.
“Gram!” Emma shouts, breaking away from my hand and running to Mom, hopping into her lap. “I get to stay at Aunt Charlotte’s tonight. Daddy said he’s sending me with candy to share with everyone.”
Charlotte and my mom both shoot deadly glares our way, but Will completely ignores them, leaving me to respond. “He was only kidding; if we send them with anything, it will be highly-nutritious snacks that will only further their growth and improve their percentile range at their next well-child check-up.” Sensing my sarcasm, they both roll their eyes.
“Well, isn’t that thoughtful of your daddy, but we have plenty of snacks at our house you can have,” Charlotte says in her most condescending tone.
We move our chairs just a tad out of range of them, so that we can actually enjoy the game. I love my family, but I want to watch Blake play soccer, not listen to my mom and Charlotte gossip and carry-on about everyone in our little town, judge mine and Will’s parenting skills, or lecture me for the hundredth time that I needed to stay home with my children instead of pretending like I’m some kind of career woman. Yup, the circle of love is suffocating.
Will and I sit down in our matching CSU lawn chairs, and he finally takes notice of my family. He enjoys them as much as I do. “Hey, guys! Happy Saturday,” he says in an overly-pleasant voice. “Are you still good for tonight, Charlotte?”
“Of course, we are happy to have them. Do you need me to make a list of things to send with them? I would hate for you to forget to pack their toothbrushes or socks or something.”
“I think we’ll manage, Char,” I intercede. “We’ve had them for a few years now, and we’ve somehow been able to keep them breathing, clothed, and most surprisingly, we’ve never lost them at Wal-Mart, so I think we can handle some overnight bag responsibilities.”
“I’m just trying to help. I know with your busy schedules, things can get overlooked,” Charlotte says, unpacking a juice box from her cooler and opening it for Emma.
“Thank you, Aunt Char,” Em politely says, taking the juice and snuggling into my mom.
“You’re very welcome, dear; I brought plenty of extras just in case you guys forgot your cooler.”
I can feel the anger begin to roll off Will. I look in his direction to try to ease the tension, but judging from his narrowed eyes and white knuckles melding into the armrest of his chair, I should just be glad he is off duty and not carrying a weapon.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth to him, but he just shakes his head and directs his attention to the field where the opening kickoff is getting lined up. He claps and yells for Blake, then leans forward to rest his forearms on his knees. I know that my family is a strain on us. They are intrusive, domineering, and condescending. When I left for college, I never in a million years thought I would come back. But life interfered, and when Will and I got pregnant with Blake, we felt it was the best option at the time. We have discussed many times the idea of moving away and beginning somewhere that we could create our own home. That’s all it’s ever been, though, just talk. Charlotte or my mother will piss one or both of us off, and we’ll say it’s time to pull out the map and pick a new town. I’m not sure we could ever follow through, though. Our jobs tie us to this town; I love mine, and I’m too afraid of Will being a police officer in a bigger city. I could never risk losing him.
I reach over and massage his back muscles that are as hard as rock from the tension that my family has created on what was supposed to be a fun day. It’s my own silent apology, and when he shakes my knee with his hand, I know all is forgiven. It’s our silent code, and I’m so thankful for this man that so willingly and easily gives that to me.
The game is only an hour long, but we end up standing and cheering for the majority of it. Blake scores two goals, and I think I may have sprained my ankle jumping up and down with excitement from it. I definitely lost my voice from yelling. Yes, we are those parents. I’m sure our kids will die of embarrassment at some point in their life, but dammit, I want them to know that we will always show up, and we will always be in their corner cheering them on, whether they are riding the bench or are the star player.
“Dad, you see me kick the ball all the way across the field?” Blake screams, running to us after the game, jumping into Will’s arms once he finally reaches us.
“I sure did, little man! You were awesome out there,” Will tells him before placing him back on the ground and rubbing his hand over Blake’s shaggy hair, making it fall into his eyes. “I think the coach needed to have two defenders on you.”
“I think we are going to win the championship this year. We are way better than last year; I don’t think we scored a goal…ever.” Blake begins to focus on unwrapping his post-game snack, and his words begin to fade off as his straw to his juice box proves difficult to master.
“You guys have improved a ton, Blake,” I say, taking his juice, fixing the straw for him, and handing it back. “Maybe you and Dad can practice a little tomorrow when you get back from Aunt Charlotte’s.”
He abandons his snack, giving me his full attention when he learns of his evening plans. “Not Aunt Charlotte’s house,” he whines. “It’s boring there. We can never do anything; no one is allowed to get dirty, and her food is nasty.”
I bend down to speak at his eye level, and to keep my sister from hearing our conversation. “Blake, honey, you rarely stay at Aunt Charlotte’s. I think it’s going to be fun. I think she rented movies, and her food isn’t nasty, it’s just healthy, and there’s nothing wrong with staying clean, big guy. It’s just for one night; I swear you’ll live.”
“Have you ever had tofu?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest. I shake my head because God knows I wouldn’t go anywhere near that stuff. I’m surprised he even knows the word. “Well, if I choke to death on her tofu lasagna, then you’ll wish you hadn’t said that.”
I curl my lips over my teeth, trying not to laugh at my little boy’s convincing argument. I too would choke to death if I had to clear my plate of tofu anything. Once I feel as though I can speak without laughing, which would only make matters worse, and by extension ending our chance at a date night, I decide bartering is the best plan of action. “Okay, Blake, I agree tofu is gross. But if you pretend that it won’t kill you and encourage Em to eat hers as well, and if you follow all of Aunt Char’s rules tonight, I will make homemade pizza for you tomorrow night for dinner.” Homemade deep-dish pizza is his favorite, and is very time-consuming, so it’s not made often. I’m driving a hard bargain for him.
He actually takes a few seconds to consider his options for renegotiation. He scratches his chin, just like Will does when he’s in deep thought, and for a split second I think I may have lost the battle. But then he sticks out his hand like he’s an adult man instead of my little five-year-old and shakes my hand. “Deal, but I get to pick all the toppings.”
“Deal,” I say, shaking his tiny little hand.
Vivian
“How did you get Blake to agree to go to Charlotte’s?” Will asks before shoveling his cheeseburger and handful of fries into his mouth. Our small town doesn’t exactly have elegant date night options, so we are enjoying a comfortable burger, fries, and some milkshakes at our favorite local diner. The place is pretty old school, but it’s a jewel of the town. Customers use phones at the table to order their meal over a loud speaker that everyone in the restaurant can hear, and the aroma of fried food wafts through the air and attacks your nostrils the moment you step out of your car in the parking lot. It’s fantastic.
Then, instead of dancing or drinks at an upscale club–because those two don’t exist here unless you consider peanuts on the floor and curtains for bathroom doors classy–we are going to park at one of the last drive-in theaters in the state, and enjoy a not-so-new film. The drive-in usually receives movies about a month after the city theaters have played them, and there are only two shows a night, but it’s something.
I smile into my chocolate milkshake, recounting the wheeling and dealing of my negotiating five-year-old. “I have to make homemade pizza tomorrow, and he gets to choose all of the toppings. I may have to send you to the store tomorrow to pick up the things we need.”
“So pineapple, huh?” he says, swirling a long fry in his dollop of ketchup and ranch. There is so much on the fry that it bends with the weight of ketchup, and when he flops it into his mouth, a bit is left behind in the corner of his mouth. I reach across to wipe it off and lick the remains off my finger, earning myself a smirk from my husband.
“Would you expect anything less from him?” I laugh before taking a huge bite of my own burger. Juices and toppings spill out of it onto my paper-covered basket. The cheeseburgers here are the best in town, and we are here early enough that the crowds of high school kids that flood in after the Saturday volleyball and football games haven’t showed up yet. We pretty much have the place to ourselves.
The quiet is nice.
“How much school work do you have to get done tomorrow, love? Are there any grading things that I can help with, you know, multiple-choice type stuff?” Every week, Will always offers to help, and I have yet to take him up on it. I just appreciate that he’s willing to help. I love my job. I really do, but there isn’t a weekend that I don’t take grading or planning home, and I always feel bad that it takes time away from my family. Will understands that; it’s one of the reasons why we spend some much time at home, instead of going to all the town activities. Between tons of grading, and Will’s work schedule, we don’t have a lot of time together, so we tend to be stingy with the time we do have.
“Thank you, hun, but if you just keep the kids occupied for a few hours, I should be able to get it all done. I had to cover a few classes last week, so I wasn’t able to get my grading done during my planning hour. It shouldn’t take too long, though.”
“No problem, I can do that. How has school been? Any kids I need to make an appearance at school for? You know, show up at school in my uniform and scare them in to behaving for you.” He flexes his biceps to emphasize his ability to intimidate high school kids. I choke on the fry in my mouth and immediately latch on to my milkshake straw to wash down the food particle stuck in my throat.
“Oh, my God, that was hilarious! I think I can handle it, but thanks,” I say once the cold cream of the shake relaxes my throat and I’m able to speak again.
“Okay, do you at least have any new funny stories to share; you know I love hearing about the stupid things your kids do and say. I still think you need to keep a journal and then publish all the stories. You could make a ton of money; we would never have to work again.”
“True, the things they say are funny; I’m pretty sure parents would die if they knew some of the things their kids do. But I’m also pretty sure if I published those things, I wouldn’t have a choice about working in education again, because I would be fired.”
“Fiiine,” he says, drawing out the word as if surrendering, “you can just tell me then.” I love that Will and I can laugh together. There have never been major sparks of passion, or heat like I experienced with Brooks; we have something different. We have a friendship that grew into something more. We can always make each other laugh; we are a team–a secure, solid foundation that will last because neither of us would ever hurt the other. Over the years, I’ve thought about the relationship I had with Brooks, and what I have now with Will, and I really think I would rather have the friend that loves me and won’t hurt me, than the passionate lover whose adoration would eventually burn me. Every time I question my marriage to Will, I think about the hurt Brooks caused, and I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.
I giggle and then stuff my face with another massive amount of cheeseburger in an attempt to stall. I jog my memory to think of a story he hasn’t heard and would like. Washing it down with shake, I remember a few that I can share. “I have two for you; one is from a junior high kid, and the other is from my college literature class. Which would you like first?”
“Either, I don’t care.” He shoves the final piece of his burger into his mouth, and settles back in his seat with his strawberry shake to be entertained by the momentary stupidity of today’s youth.
“So, my eighth graders were doing some cross-curriculum work with their social studies content, and I found some stories about the Revolutionary War that they were learning about. They were at the end of the unit, by the way, and already knew what the purpose of the war was. So we were talking about the fighting style of the Revolutionaries, and how it helped them against the bigger stronger English military. One of my top students is listening intently and is on the edge of her chair, when she raises her hand. Of course I call on her, and she asks, “So who won?”
Will’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “She asked who won the Revolutionary War?”
I nod my head. “Yup, the whole class had the same reaction you did. Looks of complete confusion filled the classroom because of her question. I tried to walk her through it, because I knew that she knew the answer; she just spoke without thinking.”
“Did she finally catch on?” He laughs.
“Oh, yeah, but I had to ask her if there was a queen of the United States first. She looked at me like I was crazy, and then it finally clicked. She was so embarrassed, especially when the entire class laughed. She laughed too, and begged that I not tell her mother or older brother about her brain fart.”
“Did you tell them?”
“Of course, it was my funny of the day. I told everyone at the teacher lunch table. Those stories are some of the highlights of our day sometimes.”
“Your job makes me sad sometimes,” he adds, grabbing a napkin and rolling it quickly between his hands to wipe the grease off his fingers. I ball up my own napkin and throw it at him, feigning offense. “Oh, come on, Viv, that story was kind of pathetic, and if that was the highlight of your day, you may need to check your fun gauge.”
“Fine, how about this one,” I say, grabbing our trash and taking it to the nearest trashcan. Will holds the door open for me, and then leads me to the car by placing his hand lightly on the small of my back.
“We were reading stories about early colonization and exploration, preparing for our unit about The Crucible,” I say, climbing into the front seat. I wait for Will to get in as well before continuing. He starts the car and pulls out in the direction of the drive-in. Once he’s on the main road, his right hand automatically finds his usual spot on my knee and begins caressing it, letting me know he’s ready for the rest of the story.
“So, anyway,” I continue, “I was talking about how some early colonizers struggled because they were more interested in finding resources and profitable goods like gold than settling the area and devoting time to establishing agricultural products to eat. I tell them that finding gold wasn’t very helpful in the winter months, because you can’t eat gold.”
Will glances over at me, his expression clearly telling me that he doesn’t find my story funny. “I’m not finished,” I snip.
“Then one of my students lets out the loudest, nastiest farts I’ve heard in a long time; seriously, thank goodness for the ventilation system or we would have all suffocated. Then he says before I can chastise him, “‘Mrs. Mathews, that’s probably what it would sound like if they ate gold.’ I told him that he was probably right, because it would cause a bowel obstruction, and the only thing that would escape would be gas.”
I start to giggle, but when I look at Will, he doesn’t even smile; instead, he gives me his best pity look. “Fine, tell me one of your funny stories; you cops are probably just as boring as us teachers.”
“I can at least beat those stories, babe; those were not funny. I think you’re losing your touch,” he laughs, pulling into the drive-in and paying the attendant for our car speaker. We had been waiting a long time to see 21 Jump Street. Will loves cop comedies, and well, I like Channing Tatum, so it was a win-win this evening. He pulls in backwards, into our spot, and we jump out to make a cozy nook in the back of the SUV. I packed blankets and pillows so we could lie in the back and watch the movie. I continue to situate our area as Will begins his apparently hilarious story that will blow mine out of the water.
“You want funny; how about this?” He smirks like he already knows he’s won. I should hit him with a pillow to take him down a notch. Instead, I continue to make our movie-watching bungalow. “A few weeks ago, you remember when I stopped by on my lunch break to eat with you guys, and I had to storm out of the house for that pursuit? Everyone on shift was called out to chase the suspect who had attempted to rob a local convenience store.”
I stop laying out the blankets and grab a pillow out of Will’s hands. “I’ve heard this story; there was absolutely nothing funny about it. I’m pretty sure I win,” I gloat, fluffing the pillow.
“Back up there, cowgirl. I never told you the whole story; Rob made me promise not to tell anyone, but I’m making an exception.”
This time, I do hit him with the pillow. “You chose to keep a secret from your wife at the request of your shift partner? I’m pretty sure you broke a marriage vow or something.”
“Simmer, Viv, when you hear the story, you’ll understand. He doesn’t want anyone knowing this, let alone someone that sees him often and can regularly judge him.”
I motion for him to continue, pretending like I’m sore at him. He and I both know that I’m really not though. There are plenty of things that he keeps from me about his job. It makes him uncomfortable to tell me about some of the dangerous situations he finds himself in, and he doesn’t want me to worry, so he decompresses with Rob at times instead of me. I know this about his job, and the emotional support that he needs to do it, so I’m okay with it. Will grabs the pillow from me and throws it into the back of the car. He then picks me up and rubs his lips against the spot behind my ear. “I would never break one of our vows, love,” he whispers. “You know I always put you first,” he adds before kissing my neck.
I reach my arms around his neck; my feet are still dangling above the ground, but Will’s strength has no problem holding me up, so there is no need to hold onto him tightly. I look into his eyes, feeling the love that radiates from him. “I know, Will; you would never hurt me. You have spent every second of our life together trying to make me feel safe. I love you, and am so thankful for you.”
Will searches my eyes before landing a lingering kiss on my forehead. “Thank you, Viv. I need to hear that sometimes.” I let go of his neck and run my fingers through his golden hair, causing his eyes to close. I pull myself up and delicately kiss his moist lips. He growls in response, and I know that if we weren’t in public he would take this much further.
He slowly pulls away and flings me into the back of the SUV. I land relatively softly but the surprise of it causes me to squeal. He hops into the back to join me, and slides closer to put his arm around me. “So, the winning story of the night–where was I?” he says smugly, and I bump his shoulder with mine, making him grin. He grabs my hand and tangles our fingers together before beginning his story.
“So, we all take off in the direction of the pursuit in progress. Rob and I are the first ones to arrive at the truck stop on the edge of town where the suspect has abandoned his car. We take off on a foot chase, and I’m able to catch up to him and tackle him just outside the front entrance.”
I nod, knowing this part of the story already. The whole town heard the story; it was a very big deal. There are never robberies or pursuits in our sleepy little town, so when your husband runs after and captures the person responsible for the first town burglary in probably a hundred years, of course I heard about it.
“A small crowd had gathered outside to see what was going on; most of them were truckers passing through town, no one local. Rob was right behind me to offer back up. He was having trouble keeping up; he has gained some weight since his wife left.” He leans in to whisper the last part, as if it is a secret that Rob has struggled since he and his wife separated. He has spent a great deal of time at our house since it happened, and when the final divorce papers were delivered a few months ago, he completely fell off the wagon, eating anything he could get his hands on as a way to cope. Since the pursuit though, he has been doing better. He has been going to the gym with Will; he’s lost the weight, and he looks like the same-old, muscular, handsome Rob we are used to, so I’m unsure of what that has to do with humor of the story.
