“So how are you feeling now that graduation is finally out of the way? Do you have any plans for the summer?”

Dyson stared at Jeanette. What an inane question. Why didn’t she ever just get to the point that she was trying to make?

“It feels good to finally be done with high school,” he mumbled, eyes back firmly on the floor.

“And how’s your relationship with food at the moment?”

Why did she always have to ask him about that? She knew full well that he had a complicated relationship with food. They had been over this so many times already.

“I still have no appetite.”

Dyson gave his answer to a blackbird flying past the window. There was something about Jeanette, about this office, that he really disliked. Maybe it was the old-fashioned dark oak furniture that reminded him of his great-grandmother’s house, or maybe it was just the box of tissues on the table between them. The tissues that he never needed, the tissues that offended him.

Jeanette sat quietly. She was expecting him to say more.

“I do try to eat, don’t get me wrong. I know that’s what we’ve talked about before. Little and often. But, it just feels so wrong some days.”

Jeanette kept looking at him, he couldn’t work out what she was thinking, what she wanted him to say.

“My Mom tries, she tries really hard. She doesn’t like, force me or anything; she just encourages me, in a nice way, like.”

“And what about your cousin? The one who visited you a few months ago. Have you seen him again recently?”

“Tyson? No, he disappeared as quickly as he appeared.” Dyson was relieved to be asked about his cousin, he had feared that she was going to go down the parental route, yet again.

“Do you miss him?”

“What sort of question is that? I barely know him! I didn’t even know I had a cousin until he appeared, and then he was gone again after like only a day!”

“He seems to provoke strong emotions from you. Did he do anything to upset you while he stayed at yours?”

“I was barely with him. All he did was eat! He almost ate us out of house and home!”

“How did that make you feel?”

“I don’t care. I don’t care what he does! He clearly doesn’t care about me. Flaunting himself like that!”

“Do you have any other feelings for your cousin? Like in a sexual manner?”

“What sort of fucking question is that?! What the fuck!? I thought we were here to talk about my eating habits. What’s with all this Tyson bullshit? I barely know the guy!”

“Ok, let’s put him to one side for a moment. You never told me what you were planning to do this summer.”

“I dunno.”

“When do you start college?”

“September.”

“Ok, may I suggest something?”

“I can’t stop you.”

“I think it would do you good to get out by yourself a bit more. Just you. No Jylian, no Tyson. Just you and your own thoughts. Do you have, like, a favourite place? Somewhere out in nature maybe?”

“I like it by the lake. My Dad used to take me fishing there.”

“Sounds great. But no Dad. Just you. Take some Dyson time. I want you to try and be a bit more mindful. Take time with your own thoughts and just be yourself. Be in the moment. Do you think that you can do that?”

“I can try.”

“Good lad. I think we’ve made some good progress today.”

Dyson frowned. She always said that. He got up and left without saying thank you or goodbye. He just walked straight past her while she was making her notes. Just like he always did.

Jeanette scribbled in her notepad: It sometimes takes a few minutes to even know who I’m talking to. They are both so alike.

Dyson had been lying on the picnic bench for a couple of hours when he realized that he was starting to burn. The summer sun beat down on his flat chest and reddening abs. He sat up, looked across the lake, shimmering in the golden daylight, and put his t-shirt back on. He reached down into his backpack in order to take a swig from his water flask. It really was a scolding hot day. His t-shirt was already clinging to his body due to all the sweat. He looked once more at the cool tantalizing water of the lake. A swim would feel really good, but he just didn’t have the energy. Maybe he’d take a dip tomorrow.

He placed his water flask back in his bag and noticed the squashed sandwiches wrapped in cling foil that his mom had made for him. He knew he should eat. He hadn’t eaten all day. It was just too hot. He mopped a bead of sweat from his forehead and threw the unopened sandwiches in an overflowing trash can as he made his way back to the car park.

Unbeknown to Dyson, his cousin, Tyson, was also at the lake. He had been busy filling his face and tanning his huge round belly at a picnic spot on the opposing shore. Better fat and tan, than fat and pasty; that’s what Tyson always said.

Dyson enjoyed his regular trips to the lake. Jeannette had actually been right about something for once. It was good to get out by himself. It was good to be out in the fresh air, to smell the pollen, and listen to the birds. It made him feel content and peaceful. He still may not have been eating, but his soul always felt full at the end of a day at the lake.

Tyson dropped his heavy bag down on the picnic table. Carrying it everyday was getting harder and harder work. He unzipped the main compartment and removed the Pringles, Oreos, and M&M’s that were blocking his access to the large plastic container. He carefully lifted the heavy container and placed it on the table in front of him. It was still warm. He picked it up again and moved it slowly up and down in an effort to ascertain its weight. Recommended serving size; 2 lbs per portion, per person, he thought. He placed the 20 lb dish back on the table and licked his lips. He pulled a wooden knife and fork out of a side pocket of his bag, lifted the lid, and dug in.

Dyson was awoken from his reverie by a small fish nibbling on his big toe. He pulled his foot out of the cooling water and gave it a good scratch.

“At least someone’s feeling hungry,” he said to the fish.

Tyson finished his lasagna with a big burp and scratched the itch at the top of his straining belly. Realizing he still had his pointlessly short t-shirt still on, he lifted up his fat smothered arms and wrestled to pull it off. He needed an all over-tan. A white puffy chest and huge round tanned belly would just look ridiculous. Like some sort of bloated zebra. The motion of lifting his arms above his head caused his already stuffed belly to push forwards and out, accidentally Knocking the wooden knife and fork onto the ground as it bashed into the table in front of him. He smiled and rubbed the front of his gluttonous gut as if to heal the imaginary injury. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to it, “I’ll make you all better.” He reached back in the bag and took out the Pringles. “Just a little snack to start with,” he said to himself.

Dyson wiped his feet dry with his towel and started to make his way back to the car. It was only a couple of hundred yards from the pontoon back to his normal picnic bench but for some reason it felt like miles. He looked up at the baking sun and wished that he had brought a hat with him. Upon reaching the bench he was shocked to discover that some large uncouth family, or maybe a group of other teenagers, had left the place covered in litter. Empty soda cans were strewn all over the place. The underside of the table was scattered with gnawed chicken bones, serviettes, and even a large unwashed Tupperware box. He attempted to bend down to pick up an Oreo wrapper blowing in the wind when he felt a sudden twinge and loss of breath. He slowly righted himself, and with an uneasy feeling of guilt for not taking the responsibility to protect the environment and clean up, decided to inform a ranger of the mess that such careless people had left behind.

Tyson barreled in through the front door still topless. His heaving tanned belly bashing against the antique telephone table, almost sending the ‘for show purposes only’ rotary phone flying.

“I wish you’d be more careful!” His mom scolded him as she came out from the kitchen.

“Sorry, I guess I don’t quite know my own size!” Tyson beamed as he spoke. His whole face radiated with joy whenever he made any comment about his own growth.

“How much do you weigh now?” His mom begrudgingly asked him.

“365. Well that was this morning. Right now I’m unsure, but it’s been a good day!” Tyson pushed his hands deep under both sides of his giant overhang and lifted his heavy heaving bulk of a belly in order to show it to his mother.

“I can see,” she said, eyes rolling.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, in excited anticipation.

“We were going to have that lasagna, but someone…”

“Take out, instead?” He hopefully suggested.

Tyson’s mom hated to admit it, due to the immense feelings of guilt that it inspired inside of her, but she had never really been on board with the therapist's advice of playing along with this delusion. She was convinced that it was counter productive.

That evening as she lay awake in bed listening to her obnoxiously obese son loudly pleasuring himself in the next room to hers, she finally admitted it to herself; she couldn’t wait for him to move out and go away to college.