I am splintered. Really struggling with the whole unity and “I”. Feeling only like a “we” the past couple days.
And we are not agreeable or allies in any way.
I’m not sure what made me decide to confide in him over text about being fat and ugly and needing pills and laxatives. I’ve never spoken to anyone about it before. I did take some pills and washed them down with a couple shots of liquor. It makes it easier to not think about food. I don’t need food. Food makes me fat.
Then he texted us. And sent everyone into a tailspin. Charlotte is squirming in that nasty way she does. He asks if I’m all right. If I’m coping with all my new stress. He says he misses me. He asks about the new guy. I don’t want to talk about Craig. He says he’s worried about me. He wonders if I’m handling living alone all right.
And I tell him.
I tell him I’m so fat and I have to take the laxatives on the weekend because otherwise I can’t go to work. That during the week it’s hard and I struggle so bad to be a good girl. That the other ladies at work always look so chic. And they notice when I lose weight. They notice every single pound. And they are so happy for me. So very happy. They praise. They congratulate. They sing and shout and smile. Their white teeth take up their whole face like fence posts in front of a perfect house. A house a lady would have.
He cuts off my rantings and calms me down. His encouragement and praise for my body being the way it is skitters into my brain and wraps around me like a blanket. He dismisses the thoughts of blubber, of fat, of sludge. I tell him it’s been weeks since he’s seen my anyway.
He says it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like me being so cruel to myself. He says he cares.
How can he care? He just leaves and dismisses me. He doesn’t care at all.
He never cared when Audrey was hurting from the mess he made.
(he never thought the pregnancy was a two-person effort)
Why am I the one who feels pain at his words? I don’t care what boys think. What is wrong with me?
Charlotte’s affecting me too much.
I’m not exactly sure who told Craig our address. My best guess is Charlotte or Kit. It’s hard to know. All I know is this boy stands in my living room, offering gifts of chocolate, ice cream, diet coke (Kit’s weakness) to try and make our back pain better.
But I barely know him. I certainly don’t know him well enough to chose to let him into our residence. But someone thinks he’s safe. I think about enlisting Rika to help me boot him out.
It’s Charlotte that surfaces instead. She entices him into the bedroom, saying they’ll watch a movie. I wrestle control enough to stiffly watch a movie with him. The damn muscle relaxers are messing me up badly. Me, who can handle most pills like a trooper. It is my talent, after all.
The rest of the evening slips past me. I doze at one point.
The body dozes.
The boy doesn’t leave.
It’s me who wakes up in the cold light of morning and feels the pressure of an arm slung over my waist. Rika fights her way forward but is caught by something. By someone.
And suddenly I am gone.
no one knows self-sabotage like i do. the boy moves closer, muttering something about mornings and food. i remain perfectly still. i am a statue. i am always a statue when they want me to be.
but he wants to get up and go get food. i stare at him. he remarks that i can’t go to a restaurant in pajamas. i look down and notice that i am fully clothed in a t-shirt and the loose pants that say coca-cola in red. i glance back up at the boy. he is fully clothed in jeans and a black t-shirt. he tilts his head slightly and says something. then he smiles in a sickeningly honest way.
I could eat. I change clothes in the bathroom and accompany him to Bob Evans. Breakfast sounds the best.
I am a little disappointed over the lack of activity last night, but he seems to be the type who isn’t into a quick roll in the sack anyway.
In my disappointment, my thoughts easily drift to Army as he natters on about his antics with friends back during his school days. I wonder how much Victoria’s craziness scared Army. It doesn’t seem like much, considering he last texts are about how he’ll always listen to us if we need it and all he wants to do is help. I idly wonder what sort of help I might be able to get that offer to extend to….
I snap to attention when Craig mentions children and stare at him. He speaks again, talking about how he-wants-a-family-and-he-has-name-ideas-and-he-thought-his-ex’s-baby-might-have-been-his-but-the-timing-wasn’t-right-and-that’s-probably-a-good-thing-anyway-because-he’s-done-with-her-and-a-child-should-be-with-someone-he’s-attracted-to-and-cares-about…
His eyes focus. I blink. And frown.
No fucking way.
I fucked that shit up before. I am not gonna be the one to crack open that jar this time. Not to mention that the last time was a complete accident. This guy sounds like he’d hide our birth control pills.