To Let Go

Twenty Two

Ten Years Earlier
Before Emma's first Cardiac Arrest

I grab hold of her wrist and my hand closed from tip to tip; I've said you've taken the diet too far you've got to let it slip; but she's not, eating again, she's not, eating again, she's not eating again

The music is loud in my head, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of the voices.

The song is very well written, as it describes the  story of an anorexic girl. I've downloaded a ton of songs about similar ideas. For example, this song, 'The Sea Is A Good Place To Think Of The Future' by Los Compionos, and 'You Should Know Where I'm Coming From' by Banks. Or perhaps 'Numbers' by Pompeii. The Ana Mia community is so widespread, it's hard to pinpoint all of them.

Finn bursts into my room. She's wearing a skirt with a cardigan. So different from my jeans and tee shirt with sweatshirt. Today was the end of the fifth week of school, as we have a pre Labor Day start.

"Can I borrow your laptop? I need to look up something."

"Sure." I get up and go over to my desk turn it on. She takes a seat on my bed. A cold draft floats in. I shiver.

Once the computer warms up, I take a quick glance at the desktop. A folder was labeled 'SPREADSHEETS'. I open it, for I cannot remember what it is. I look at it. It's almost like a character chart of sorts. Then I realize. It's the graphs I made about Leo and Jordi. That was so long ago. I close it quickly.

After an hour or so, we are called down for dinner. We walk down into the kitchen and then the dinning room. We take out seats. Okay Emma. I give myself a pep talk. Eat it. Then go throw it up in the "shower" you'll take. Then workout. Then shower for real. Bed. You did it the day before last. You can do it again.

For dinner, it's curry with potatoes and peas, paired with a small green salad with balsamic vinaigrette. I don't talk as I eat. I shove it all into my mouth and then rush upstairs. I'm not bulimic, I swear. But there's something about the rush when the numbers leave my body. Something so wonderful and terrifying. Something about control.

After I finish, I flush the toilet. I sit back and get a small drink of water. I quickly get up and change into my workout clothes. I lace up shoes and stumble out the door as fast as possible.

The sun is still up, but setting soon. My goal is to come back home an hour past dark. I want to run until I collapse. I went too easy on myself yesterday, with seven miles and only a few sets of one hundred reps. Now, I did fast yesterday, and purged my water. But still.

The pavement burns from the earlier sun on it, and it radiates the heat. My feet ache from the workout yesterday. My head spins, and pounds. My parents took my sister on a walk while I "stayed home". Just another lie from another day in the pursuit of perfection.

When I reach mile six, it hits me. Hard. Something is wrong. I can't breath. My lungs feel like they are giving out, and I don't have a pulse. The world becomes faint and light. I can't breath. But I can't stop. I can't. I. Can't.

But then something funny happens.

The world goes away.

And all that's left is this funny sentence in my head.

'You've done good' Ana tells me.