{"id":7033492,"date":"2026-08-08T10:29:15","date_gmt":"2026-08-08T10:29:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/peraltafinancing.com\/entertainment\/books\/the-coming-out-close-to-the-bone-publishing\/"},"modified":"2026-08-08T10:29:15","modified_gmt":"2026-08-08T10:29:15","slug":"the-coming-out-close-to-the-bone-publishing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/fivemor.com\/?p=7033492","title":{"rendered":"The Coming Out | Close To The Bone Publishing"},"content":{"rendered":"


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\u201cThat dress is kinda tight.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Greg watched as Tasha, his wife of nine years, studied herself in the full-length mirror. His tone was sour, his expression sullen.
+++++<\/span>Tasha, on the other hand, was almost giddy, as she turned this way and that, seeing how her new outfit accentuated her svelte, curvy figure, the result of over a year of strict dieting and exercise. She\u2019d been taking tucks in her clothing, bigger and bigger ones, and bought several loose, a-line dresses to wear while the fat melted away. She\u2019d waited until her goal of eighty-five pounds had been reached before ordering something especially revealing. It had arrived today, just in time for an office party being held in honor of a co-worker\u2019s promotion.
+++++<\/span>What she couldn\u2019t understand was why Greg wasn\u2019t excited about her accomplishment, why he seemed concerned that she was depriving herself. \u201cEat up, honey,\u201d he\u2019d coached frequently as she served herself smaller portions of their dinner fare. \u201cI love you just the way you are.\u201d Now that she thought about it, hadn\u2019t he lavished her with gifts of candy and encouraged her to not deny herself whatever food she craved? This, as her weight increased with the passing years as diet after short-lived diet failed.
+++++<\/span>\u201cSuch a pretty face,\u201d was the mantra she\u2019d overheard all her life, the presumed unspoken conclusion, \u201cif she just wasn\u2019t so fat.\u201d The only child of a busy couple who worked long hours and had no time to cook, she spent afternoons alone once she outgrew the need for daycare, with the TV for company and freedom to consume as many cookies and peanut butter sandwiches as she needed to ease her loneliness. The fast food her parents served for their evening meals was simply dessert.
+++++<\/span>A mere five-foot-two, she was a size eighteen by the time she bought a dress for senior prom. No date, of course; she attended with the other high school outcast, Sarah Jean Milstone, tall and physically awkward with thick glasses and protruding front teeth. The two became best friends\u2014perhaps because of their perceived imperfections\u2014and found comfort in each other. Sarah Jean moved away with her family right after graduation, and they never saw each other again. Tasha often wondered how her friend had fared in such a scrutinizing world.
+++++<\/span>She also wondered at her good fortune when, just over a decade ago, she met Gregory Schmidt, a moderately handsome older man who invited her to dinner, movies, and concerts, and introduced romance to her dateless, loveless life. She knew everyone at work was surprised when she appeared sporting the diamond on her fourth finger, certain of airborne questions in hushed tones: \u201cHow\u2019d she manage that?\u201d and \u201cWho would have thought?\u201d
+++++<\/span>They married at City Hall, no frills or fanfare, not even a reception afterward. Her parents were deceased by then, as were Greg\u2019s, and her friends were only co-workers she didn\u2019t know well at the time. Greg\u2019s world seemed to consist mostly of her and a few mere acquaintances at his company, none of whom he entertained or visited.
+++++<\/span>Fortunately, her love for Greg was genuine, despite her notion that no one else would want her. He\u2019d continued to be romantic, a wine and flowers kind of guy, their love-making frequent and enjoyable.
+++++<\/span>It was a bout of flu that had activated the weight-loss venture that finally stuck. Sick for almost a week, able to consume only an occasional dish of chicken soup and toward the end a partial piece of toast, she dressed for the first time in six days and found herself delighted by the gap between her waist and waistband. It was as though that space, that looseness that she had longed for, magically curbed her appetite. Her attention shifted from what dessert would follow dinner each day to how many inches she would discover missing from her body.
+++++<\/span>Now, as Greg stood behind her in the doorway, she felt his disapproving stare. In all their years together, he\u2019d never shown disdain for anything she\u2019d done. \u201cWhere to?\u201d he now inquired with a worried tone.
+++++<\/span>\u201cSome of us are meeting at Manny\u2019s for drinks to celebrate Janice\u2019s promotion. I told you yesterday,\u201d she reminded him, tugging on her tight skirt and smoothing it with her fingers. \u201cYou just forgot.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cI could drive you.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cThat\u2019s okay,\u201d she said, checking her phone. \u201cI\u2019ve called an Uber.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Greg seemed reluctant to move, leaning toward her as she squeezed by him in the doorway, brow wrinkled, visibly drawing in air through his nose. \u201cThat a new perfume?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cI got it at Victoria\u2019s Secret. Smells good, huh?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYeah,\u201d he mumbled, \u201creally great.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cDon\u2019t wait up,\u201d she said, tossing him a wave as she nearly ran toward the waiting car, feeling guilty now but determined to not let his apparent unhappiness ruin her fun.
+++++<\/span>She\u2019d never in life made a grand entrance, and she loved it. Her co-workers were gathered around the bar at Manny\u2019s, partially consumed cocktails and bottles of beer already in front of them. The chorus of whistles made her giddy all over again.
+++++<\/span>\u201cWe\u2019ve started without you,\u201d shouted one of the men, \u201cwhat\u2019ll you have?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cSit here,\u201d piped Jesse, a young newcomer, who\u2019d been overly friendly at the office and was now feeling his booze. He looked her up and down as he patted an empty bar stool and, while the grin on his face made her uncomfortable, she welcomed it, relished it. She\u2019d seen other women being lusted after and wished it was she. Well, now it was, and it was a discomfort, she decided, that she could handle.
+++++<\/span>Whether Greg could handle it was another matter.
+++++<\/span>She had been there about an hour before the phone rang. She knew as she searched her purse for the device that it would be him. She predicted the conversation:
+++++<\/span>\u201cHow\u2019s the party?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cFun. Janice is really happy.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Then he\u2019d feign concern for her. \u201cIt\u2019s kinda late, honey\u2014aren\u2019t you tired?\u201d when what he really wanted was for her to come home\u2014for his<\/i> benefit, not hers.
+++++<\/span>She was right, nearly word-for-word, but with an added annoyance.
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou\u2019re not drinking too much, are you?\u201d his tone like a parent issuing a gentle reprimand\u2014You didn\u2019t eat all those cookies so close to supper?<\/i> She bristled; her resentment raised a notch with his suggestion that she let him call her an Uber\u2014right now\u2014he had an important meeting tomorrow and had to get to sleep.
+++++<\/span>\u201cJust go to bed.\u201d It was the angriest retort she could remember in all their years of marriage. \u201cI can call my own Uber.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou just do that,\u201d he snapped, before the line went dead.
+++++<\/span>Her insolence and guilt played tag the rest of the evening, until just before midnight, when the crowd began to thin and Henry, a long-time co-worker, offered her a ride home.
+++++<\/span>She was unsteady from three drinks, two more than her usual limit, but not too blotto to notice that Henry, who was her height, walked so close to her in the parking lot, she could feel his breath on her neck. His hand, which he\u2019d held firmly under her elbow as he led her toward his car, traveled across her shoulder into a half-embrace, then downward onto her waist as he opened the passenger side door. She shot him a curious look before she dropped into the seat and was suddenly bothered by what she perceived as a lusty grin, much like Jesse\u2019s when she first arrived at the bar. Henry was clearly drunk\u2014too drunk to drive.
+++++<\/span>She took out her phone as he made his way around the front of the car and climbed in beside her. Squinting at the device in the dark, she searched for Uber\u2019s number. \u201cI don\u2019t want to put you out,\u201d she said with a touch of panic, but by that time, he\u2019d started the motor and was backing out.
+++++<\/span>\u201cNo, no, this is better than riding with some cabbie,\u201d he slurred. She noticed that he hadn\u2019t asked her address and was headed in a totally different direction.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI live on Barton Road,\u201d she blurted anxiously.
+++++<\/span>\u201cDon\u2019t worry, we\u2019ll get there.\u201d His tone was different now, flat, angry. He was going too fast, even for a sober driver, and while he handled the wheel with his left hand, his right was suddenly on her knee.
+++++<\/span>Henry was a loner whose wardrobe cried out thrift store, \u201cno chick magnet,\u201d according to one gossipy secretary. Tasha had always gone out of her way to be friendly toward him, his social awkwardness and lack of sex appeal evoking sympathy. She remembered all those years of being the fat girl, the one not invited to the prom, the lonely kid eating peanut butter sandwiches to M*A*S*H<\/i> reruns and The Match Game<\/i>. She now questioned all that empathy, as he pulled onto a side road and turned off the motor.
+++++<\/span>\u201cCom\u2019ere,\u201d he snarled, reaching for her and looking more drunk than ever, so much so that she felt she could put up an effective fight. She\u2019d been exercising with dumbbells during her weight-loss journey and felt pretty strong.
+++++<\/span>She overestimated her strength or underestimated his, she didn\u2019t know which, only that she was on the seat on her back underneath him, her head pushed against the door and his arm across her neck, making it difficult to breathe. He first cooed sweet talk as he pulled at her underwear, then switched to ugly name-calling when she continued to resist. Had he not bumped his head on the inside of the door as she made one huge thrust to push him off, he would certainly have had his way with her. Whether it was the booze or the crack of his head, his body went limp, dead weight on top of her, his breathing deep, his drool wetting the side of her face.
+++++<\/span>Getting the door open and extricating herself were gargantuan tasks. Once outside she had no idea where she was or how to describe it to Greg\u2014yes, she would definitely call Greg\u2014all she could think of was hearing his voice. He\u2019d know what to do, come and get her, alert the police if he thought they should report the attack.
+++++<\/span>She was barely able to punch in the numbers, her hands shaking and tears blocking her vision. \u201cAnswer, please answer.\u201d He didn\u2019t. He was angry. And he had that important meeting in the morning. She could only hope he\u2019d forgive her, frightened enough to not care that he\u2019d say, \u201cYou should have let me drive you.\u201d She choked out a message to his voicemail as she ran toward the main road up ahead, only a hundred feet or so.
+++++<\/span>Behind her a speeding car approached. Too blinded by the headlights to realize who it was, she waved her hands in the air for the driver to stop\u2014surely he would stop\u2014and only at the last second did relief turn to horror at the sight of the familiar face behind the wheel, and just one second later the impact, as her phone went airborne into the brush and she lay motionless on the shoulder.
+++++<\/span>Her last word was a feeble \u201chelp\u201d as Henry sped away.
+++++<\/span>Morning brought heavy sunlight beaming through the blinds onto the undisturbed side of the bed, where Greg had expected to see Tasha, hungover perhaps from her night out but willing to hear his concerns about her transformation. He would bare his soul, how he\u2019d loved her the way she was and now feared losing her. Surely, based on their long, loving relationship, she would understand.
+++++<\/span>The emptiness prompted him to grab his phone\u2014to call who? The office? It was Saturday. The police? And tell them what? My wife went out drinking and didn\u2019t come home?<\/i>
+++++<\/span>The blinking light gave him a second of relief, a call from Tasha\u2019s phone\u2014time received 1:03 a.m. No doubt she would explain why she wasn\u2019t there: she had one too many and went home with a friend, Janice perhaps, the only co-worker close enough for such a possibility. He\u2019d listen to her message first, before jumping to any horrid conclusions.
+++++<\/span>She was gasping.
+++++<\/span>\u201cGreg, I\u2019m in trouble. I\u2019m so sorry. I\u2019m, uh, out somewhere, I don\u2019t know exactly\u2026 a dirt road\u2026this guy at work, um, he attacked me. I know I shouldn\u2019t have gotten into the car with him, but he said he\u2019d take me home. I\u2019m scared out here, it\u2019s so dark\u2026oh, no, you must be asleep. Here comes a car, I\u2019ll flag it down. Please don\u2019t be mad at me. I wish I\u2019d invited you to the party. I love you, Gregory.\u201d<\/p>\n

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[Image Credit : Photo by Colin Lloyd<\/a> on Unsplash<\/a>]<\/p>\n

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Tamara Shaffer\u2019s short stories and articles have appeared in newspapers and literary journals\u2014Phoebe, Serving House, Six Hens, The Pedestal<\/i>\u2014and Woman\u2019s World<\/i> magazine. She authored Murder Gone Cold<\/i>, a book about the 1957 unsolved murders of two sisters in Chicago (2006). She is retired and lives in Chicago.<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n

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