COLLECTION 1: DIRTY AFFAIRS WITH MY NEIGHBOR(I)

I was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. My husband, the philandering piece of shit that he is, was living with his girlfriend in Pittsburg now of all places. I still lived in New York and my career was going well but the divorce left me feeling flat, fat and alone. I had made out pretty well financially but I had a low self esteem and needed to change it when the divorce was finalized.

At thirty eight years old, I was pushing forty; and I pushed it as hard as possible to keep it away. I decided to get some plastic surgery. Nothing major, but I wanted to get a jump start on working out and diet so I figured a little liposuction, a tuck here and there, some lifts on my face and a new set of boobs would do the trick.

After my consultation with one of the leading plastic surgeons in New York City, I willfully gave my deposit and joined the gym. He told me I had six weeks to drop as much fat weight as I could before he finished me off with the knife and that after three weeks of healing I would look like a new person.

I stuck to a regimented diet eating only thirteen hundred calories a day, all veggies and a little fish, and worked out four to five times a week. The fat started melting off. I quit smoking and drinking and watched as the scale became my new best friend. I dropped ten pounds a week with the “Magic Bullet Diet” and walked into my doctor’s office a changed person. He almost failed to recognize me. He noted that I went from 198 pounds to138 pounds that my blood work revealed a totally healthy and fit new system.

After the surgery I felt like a truck hit me. There was not very much flab for the doctor to rid me of, but my abdomen, hips and butt felt like they were on fire. The tucks and facial work made it impossible for me to eat, smile and breath and the boob job felt like an elephant sitting on my chest. The doctor told me that all the symptoms would pass quickly after a few days and kept me overnight in the hospital. I had the worst time sleeping but finally got some shut eye after the nurse gave me some sleeping pills.

The next day I woke up, I felt a tiny bit better but still very uncomfortable. I opted to stay for one more day in the hospital with the doctor’s suggestion and he said I was healing nicely. The following morning I began to feel much better. I was able to go home, change my own dressings and feed myself.

By the time six days had passed, I was feeling much better. I was able to move around and I took the leap of faith to removed all the bandages and look at myself in the mirror. I was amazed at what I saw. Although I was still swollen in some areas, especially the chest and neck, the transformation was dramatic. I looked at least ten years younger! I had built a nice core of muscle during my six week weight training program and without the thin layer of residual fat under my skin, the muscle showed definition like I had never seen before. My face was young and beautiful and my breasts, well, my breasts were beautiful!

I healed nicely and quickly after that. Meeting the doctor for my six week check up, he cleared me to begin working out again. I was a manic in the gym toning and shaping my body until I was perfect. When I went back, I got so many stares and compliments from the guys in the gymn I could hardly stand it.

One Saturday on my way back to my apartment, I stopped off at the salon to get my hair done, along with my fingers and toes. I felt like a million bucks as I put the key in my apartment door and bent over to pick up the mail that was shoved under the door. I was curious as to why a letter was under my door and not in the mailbox but then I realized there was no stamp or return address on it. It was simply addressed in hand writing to my first name; it simply read “Elena”.

I closed the door and ripped the letter open. I found a hand written letter introducing the author and paying me wonderful compliments. It was signed “Bruno.” It turned out; Bruno was an 18 year old young man who lived in the apartment next door to me. I never saw him come or go, and I rarely even heard activity in my hall or from the apartment. He told me that he was “infatuated” with me and since I had gotten my surgery and began transforming my body, he was even more fixated.

Bruno took the liberty to enclose a small photo of him with just his shorts on. He was a very well built and a strikingly handsome young man. His hair was cut short like a Marine flat top and his bulging muscles reminded me of a fitness model from some of the magazines I was subscribed to. He told me in the letter that he wanted to show off his skills in cooking and make me a romantic dinner at my place. He explained that he was a second year student at the Academy for Culinary Arts here in New York City and he had a new recipe for Sea Bass he wanted to impress me with.

I placed the note and snapshot on the island counter top in my kitchen where I was standing and pondered the content. The way I looked at it, he lived next door to me and was aware of my recent transformation and divorce. He indicated that he liked me before my surgery so I knew it was not just a superficial crush. He also seemed somewhat lonely in his letter. He admitted he lived with his parents in the apartment but his father travelled extensively with his mother to promote her novels and he wanted some company.

I had no idea where the dinner would lead to but I felt a curiosity that was too great to ignore. I grabbed my keys off the counter and walked out to the hallway. I knocked on his door lightly and waited a moment. I heard the latch and the door cracked open. He looked at me and smiled warmly. The smile on his face was contagious. I smiled back and told him I would be delighted to have him come over and cook me a nice meal. Bruno was ecstatic with my answer and told me he would bring everything already cooked from his place including the wine. We parted ways until later that evening and I spent the entire remainder of the day pampering myself in a bubble bath then trying on outfit after outfit to decide what to wear. I felt like I was going on my first date since I met my ex-husband. Surprisingly, I got butterflies the closer eight o’clock came and had to have a glass of wine before he got there just to ease my nerves.

A loud knock at the door announced his arrival. I opened the door and he was standing in the hallway with a wheeled cart covered in a white table cloth with several silver domed covered dishes and two long skinny white candles on it. He handed me a single long stemmed red rose in a bud vase and thanked me for inviting him over.