Underweight- Part I

[This is my longest and most complex short story to date and will be published in 4 parts.  Symbolism plays an important role and is the key to understanding both the story and the title.]

“Who’s the strange looking dude in the corner?” Tom asked upon entering A.T.’s Cafe.

“Oh, he’s one of those mind-your-own business types, you know, a loner,” Michael replied as they took their seats.

“He looks like it. But what’s with the rain jacket and toboggan hat? It’s almost 70 outside, and it isn’t supposed to rain for days.”

“It’s funny you should ask. There’s an interesting story about this guy.”

“Of course,” Tom smirked. Michael always seemed to have an interesting story about everyone. Michael was naturally inquisitive and outgoing, traits he employed well as a journalist.

“Go ahead Michael. Give me the lowdown, but you’re buying the drinks. And if it is going to be as long as most of your stories, I hope you brought enough money.”

“Don’t worry, I just got paid. Here goes.” As Michael began the background of this stranger of such reputation, they requested their drinks and turned their eyes for a moment to the subject.

The stranger, one Jonathan Felder, was oblivious to them and their lack of indiscretion. He was drinking his coffee and perusing entries from his notebook. His winter beard remained, and fitted his demeanor well. Bearing under the weight of his burdens, many thought he often looked older than his thirty-five years.

Tom and Michael’s conversation ensued as their drinks were delivered. Tom took another glance at Jonathan Felder and couldn’t help wondering what thoughts the stranger was pursuing.

“So, here’s the deal concerning this guy. He’s been coming here for years. I know I’ve seen him almost every time I’ve come. I’ve talked to some of the regulars, hoping to get some background for a possible column. Come to find out, all anyone knows of his name is Felder. Whether that’s first or last, who knows? He looks like he’s about fifty years old. He won’t read the newspaper, no matter what. It wouldn’t matter if there was a war on, or if we won the Super Bowl.”

“Maybe he’s afraid he’ll see some good news,” Tom chided.

“Anyway, he always orders one thing to drink-coffee.”

“So,” Tom answered, unimpressed.

“Cold- it always has to be cold. So the waitresses leave a pot in the fridge for when Felder comes in.”

“Maybe he just likes it that way.”

“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I don’t think he’s married or has any kids. It seems like I heard something about him being divorced in his early twenties. He pawned his wedding band and whatever stuff his ex-wife left behind. Apparently he didn’t want any memories of her.”

Little did Tom and Michael know, but one of the subjects Jonathan Felder was currently thinking about was his ex-wife Marianne and their two-year marriage. It had ended bitterly, both of them only 22 years old at the time. More than once after their marriage Felder had admitted to himself that she had been too immature for marriage, even pursuing another man before the divorce was finalized. A man with the means to provide her with the expensive homes, cars and lines of credit she said she needed. Meanwhile despite working ten-hour shifts at a local manufacturer, Felder’s line of credit barely extended the length of his hand and size of his checkbook. He tried his best to take care of Marianne, working overtime whenever it was offered, but her desires for a bigger home and newer car quickly surpassed all of her desires for her husband. The importance of the name of Felder to Marianne was soon found only in her attempts to detach it from her own. She no longer paid any attention to her husband’s wishes or much else concerning him, rarely even talking to him except repeatedly making pleas to be granted a divorce. Felder held out for a few months, trying to redeem the marriage, thinking sincerely that somehow in time things would work out. But in her mind, he was now her past, signed papers or not. Throughout their marriage, Marianne rarely permitted Felder a chance to express his views on anything of much importance. She said she had no time for his complaints, yet he had always made time to listen to her. So Felder hid his thoughts from her, revealing them only in glances she never noticed. The end of her longing for him though did not.

Felder recalled the last conversation he had with Marianne standing outside of the courthouse, their divorce completed. “Jonathan, you know I wish it didn’t have to be this way. Oh, I know you tried and I did love you once. But I can’t be what you want. We were too young. Besides, it’s like I told the judge. It was your fault. I told you when you proposed that I couldn’t be satisfied with such a poor standard of living. Who can be happy in a one-bedroom apartment in the Southern Circle district? When you told me that was all we could afford for the first few years, I couldn’t believe you! I just couldn’t settle for so little like you did. It was making me so feel so depressed and trapped.” Felder attempted to reply, but upon seeing her soon to be new husband pulling up in his roadster, Marianne quickly added, “I just couldn’t wait forever for you to prove you loved me,” and ran smiling down the steps leaving Felder completely unconvinced that Marianne had any regrets about what had just happened.

As Felder’s mind revisited these thoughts, he realized his coffee was running low and promptly ordered a refill. The pain from his divorce had ended years ago, but the thoughts were still unpleasant to him. He had never remarried or had children. During their divorce proceedings Marianne had called him illogical for his choices- how he had never went to college or ventured outside the country, and anything else she could think of to show the differences between them. She had conveniently left out how she had attended college for three semesters and concluded the efforts necessary to graduate not worth it. And that one of the reasons they had so little money was the damper her school loans had placed on their discretionary income.

After his waitress refilled his coffee, Felder reminded himself of the conclusion he had come to about their marriage: she never really loved me at all- I was too young to see that. I was just her ticket to become independent from her parents. And she was not worthy of my love. I was too naïve to understand how undeserving she actually was. Now they are both gone.