That Easy and Other Short Stories ✔

That Easy

Cole got up, the red plastic chair he'd been sitting on scraping the beige linoleum as his feet pushed against the floor. He paced back and forth across the tiny, curtain-enclosed space for a few seconds, then stopped in front of the large window to my right.

Hospitals were supposed to be clean, but they always grossed me out. In addition to the false cleanliness, medical environments and all their equipment made me queasy. Which was why I needed a distraction, something else to focus on other than the intravenous in my left hand and the bacteria that were probably covering my plush duvet, one of my comforts from home.

Outside, there was a series of loud honks, a decent distraction. I wondered if Cole could see what was happening. Had there been an accident?

Cole suddenly let out a long sigh, surprising me. He ran a hand through his butterscotch hair, a couple locks of which had fallen in front of his face. I let my eyes wander, finding his profile and studying his expression carefully. The calm demeanour he'd had when he'd arrived was gone, and he looked pissed.

"What?" I demanded, squirming under the blankets. I used my right arm to push myself into an upright position, but it took an enormous amount of effort.

Cole turned slowly, and I saw the anger in his dark eyes. It took a lot to make Cole mad. Even when he was he usually refused to show it. I'd only seen him this furious once, back when we were dating. One of the douches in our senior year of high school teased Cole after he was refused acceptance into Stanford, his dream school. That day was ingrained in my memory because it was the first night I'd stayed over at Cole's place, letting him hold me like a teddy bear until we both fell asleep. It was also the first time I'd lied to my parents about, well, anything. They thought I was at a girlfriend's house, studying for our AP physics exam.

"Why did you do it?" Cole asked through gritted teeth, forcing me back into the present.

He was referring to my anorexia. That was all anybody wanted to talk about since I'd been admitted to the hospital earlier this week, after collapsing while on the way to my physical chemistry lecture.

The truth was I'd never been happy with my body. While I didn't think I was fat, I had always been flabbier than all of my friends. They could wear those gathered skirts and look healthy, while my hips gained an immediate two inches. On hot summer afternoons, they showed off their flawless legs at the beach, while I remained indoors, feeling like Jell-O.

I'd never even been bullied about my physical appearance, to my face at least. In fact, the only comments I remembered ever receiving on my body were compliments. People admired my (apparently) pretty face, (so they said) sweet smile, and (mutant) blue eyes so bright they were like sapphires. So, I couldn't even play the victim card.

But all through high school, I incessantly compared myself to the other students, most of whom were skinner or more muscular than myself. Sometimes I'd skip a meal. But never more than one a day, which was routine for many girls my age. I just thought of it as making up for the binge eating I'd done as a child, when I'd run upstairs to hide in my room while my parents fought below. My stash of chocolate and candies was my comfort back then, before I was old enough to escape.

If I had to pinpoint a specific moment when my thoughts morphed into an eating disorder, I would say it began when my parents separated, early this year. They had apparently been discussing getting a divorce for years, but had wanted to wait until I finished high school. Like that made a difference. To make matters worse, the split occurred around the same time Cole broke up with me.

Cole and I had never had many issues in our relationship. For the most part, we'd been really good with communication. It was only during those last few weeks that he'd grown distant, ignoring me for days at a time and refusing my requests to talk about his strange behaviour. I was ecstatic when he finally agreed to talk. In person! Until he told me he wanted to break up.