Iced Water

Promotion

I'm not proud of myself unless I'm hungry. Some days I do it right. Some days I wake up, have a cigarette for breakfast, a bottle of water for lunch, and some ice cubes for dinner. Those days are the best days. Those days I am proud of myself. Those are the days I am happy in my own skin.

Then there are other days. Other days. Other days I mess up. I am weak and I am fat those days. Days like today.

I carefully fill my favorite bowl with ice cubes. Each one making a sound as they come into contact with the plaster. I smile lightly as I close the freezer and take a bottle of water out of the pantry.

It's dark outside. The sun came and went. Today was a good day. I spent most of my time in doors reading books and writing poems.

I smile lightly to myself as I open the water and pour it into my bowl of ice cubes. Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend that it taste just like Honey Nut Cheerios. Some days this makes me happy and some days this makes me sad.

The TV flickers light upon the white walls of my dark apartment. I silently chuckle to myself as one character delivers the punchline to another. My dinner is cold against my teeth and tongue, but I have learned to love this. I have learned to be happy this way.

There is a knocking at my door followed by silence. I get to my feet and walk over to the door. My brown eyes sneak a peek through the peephole, and I see you. I am happy to see you. I walk into the kitchen and pour my dinner into the sink. I don't want to hear what you have to say about my eating habits, and I don't want you to think that I've fallen into my old ways.

I open the door and you smile wide. You're so pretty, sister. You are so pretty.

I wrap my arms around you and hug you quickly. I don't want you to hold me too tight or too long. When you do, you start to talk about my so called sharp edges. I smile and make way for you to come into my home.

"Nichan, guess whaaaaat!?" You say, as you do a small dance.

I let out a breathy laugh as I watch you. "What?" I ask.

"I got a promotion at work today!" You place down a brown paper bag, I did not notice it before. You wrap your arms around me and squeal. "You are now looking at the manager of The Cheesecake Factory on fourteenth street." With that, you dab and I laugh.

"Well congratulations, Madam Manager." I say, in my best English accent I can muster-up.

You bow and chuckle before picking up the brown bag and leading me into the kitchen.

"I brought you dinner." Your words falter my mood, but I try my very best not to show it.

"I just ate." I say. "But I could save it for lunch tomorrow."

"Okay, well, I got you dessert."

It's odd how such a sweet offer makes me sick to my stomach. How those little words linger in my mind and are the soundtrack of my nightmares. I comb my brain for a reason to reject it. I think about all the things I could say to sound normal.

"Nagi, I really don't feel like-"

"Your twin sister just got a promotion after working at this place for two years," you say. You take the food out of their contains. You place them onto plates and then into the microwave. "The least you could do is eat some cake with me." You turn to me and pout like a child.

"Pweeees?"

"Nagi-"

"Pweeees, Nichi?" You turn towards me and take both my hands. You move them in random motions as you plead with me like a child would their father.

I can't help but to laugh. "Okay." I say, taking back control of my limbs. "Okay."

I'm not sure where the time goes. I'm not sure how it is spent, but all I am sure about is this cake. This huge piece of cheesecake that sits on a plate in front of me. It is beautiful and I want to eat it, but I'm afraid? Yeah, I'm afraid.

I'm afraid that I'll end up being the way I use to be. I'm afraid that all the weight will come back. I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop eating once I start. I'm afraid that I'll hate myself. I'm afraid that-

Wait.

Where did it go?

I can taste it on my tongue. I can see it on my fingertips. I can feel it on my lips.

"Way to put it away, Nichi!" You say, followed by a laugh, but I am not laughing.

My mind is deciding. My body is moving quicker than I can think. I have the fork inside my hand. The plate of food. The plate. The food is shrinking. The plate. It's just a plate. It's just a plate. You offer me more. I want to deny, but I cannot. I take the plate. Another plate. Another empty plate. I take the plate. Another plate. Another empty plate. I take the plate. Another plate. Another. Empty. Plate.

I am not able to keep up with myself. Reality is fading in and out. I see food where there is none, or maybe there once was food here? I am now aware hungry. Oh so hungry. I could eat for days. I no longer long for Honey Nut Cheerios that are cold and taste of water.

I want substance. I want texture.

I.

Want.

Food.