End Game

End Game - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

            Sitting at the doctor’s office, waiting for my appointment, all I could think about was my run with Zane this morning. He showed up right on time. We ran about 3 miles, and Zane asked a lot of questions. He wanted to know how I started to lose weight.

            I told him the truth, how at first it was because of him, and what he did. Then, after the first twenty pounds or so, I realized I liked having that control. I lacked so much control in my life. The fear of my mother was always my driving force for everything I did, and I enjoyed something that wasn’t about her. It was about me, and she couldn’t take my losing weight away from me.

            The name-calling actually got worse with every pound I lost. All I heard was how I was going to turn into a slut, like my Aunt DeDe, and I must think I am so much better than her because I was losing weight. The best was how she told me, no matter how much I lost, Zane would never want me, because I was ugly through and through. She told me I looked like my father, and no matter what I did I would be shit faced ugly.

            As I was telling this to Zane, it was almost like I forgot he was there and just kept going, until he stopped me by grabbing my hand.

            “You know that nothing she says is true.”

            I nodded at him, but I didn’t answer or look at his eyes. If he saw my eyes he would have known I was lying. I believed everything that woman told me, and even more after he left. I keep my pain so deep inside me that sometimes I can pretend it isn’t there, except when I lay in bed at night. The pain and fear of being so unwanted and unlovable keeps me awake, in a constant state of panic.

            Before I knew it, Zane and I had ended up back in front of my apartment building. We said our goodbyes to each other with an almost awkward hug. It felt different to me. I had hugged Zane a thousand times in my life and this one felt like more. I didn’t know why. I knew, deep down, Zane didn’t want more than friendship with me, and I was just trying to trust him as a friend again. Could I be completely honest with myself and admit that, as much as I hated him for leaving me, I wanted him to want me? What does that make me?

            I was shaken out of my pity memory party when my name was called. I guess I was about to spill all these thoughts to my therapist. I stood up and it took everything in my power to keep walking. As I walked through the doors to the office, I felt like my life could be ending. What if this doctor thought I was like my Mom? What would she find wrong with me? I kept walking, because no matter what happened I wasn’t going to be her.