brittled mind

8

"You did what?!" My dad gasps at my mom as I stand in the middle of the kitchen. "I knew if I told you, you'd stop it," she says. "Julia, he's not better yet," my dad explains. "Denzel, you know nothing. You're projecting some image onto him of this helpless fragile child. He's fine. He ate at the hospital, and he even went over 95 pounds," she says and my stomach feels like it's been stabbed.

Over

I went over her weight qualification. "Julia, that's nothing! His hipbones are still the only thing holding his pants up. He's not going to eat at home, you know that!" he screams. "Yes he will!" They go back and forth about what I will or won't do. They don't even notice when I slip into the bathroom. I pee and walk over to my old friend, the bathroom scale. So if I reached over 96 from water and weights, how much have I actually gained from eating lard? I fear it's 96 but I imagine it can't be more than 90 or 91 rationally righ-

Fuck logic and rationale. I'm 92 pounds of fat. I'm shocked my scream isn't audible. How did I let this happen?! There's no time to be a baby about this. If I can gain it this fast I can lose it. It's time to man up and slim down. 

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"Leonard, dinner!" My mom calls. I did homework through lunch, but now I must conquer a family dinner. I begin to walk downstairs when I hear my mom talking. "I have a surprise for you girls," she says. "Leonard's home!" She audibly smiles and Halima shrieks. I walk downstairs and before I can see her she swings around my legs and hugs me. "What's for dinner?" I ask hesitantly. "Well, I tried to tell your mom to follow your discharge meal plan, but she 'lost it'" my dad says bitterly. "You act like I want him to feel awful. I'm just doing what he need. He needs to be nurtured not thrown into an asylum," she says. "And we're having zucchini noodles with lemon dressing and boiled chicken breast," she says oh so proudly. "Yuck! Where's the cereal?" Halima sticks her tongue out. I see Isa sitting to the side doing homework. I look down at my plate. My heart feels like it's going to jump out of my chest. I can hear the penetrating silence of my father's stares. I cut the food up. One bite tucked into the corner of my cheek. It's so painful to be this close to swallowing. "How's it taste?" my dad asks, suspiciously. "It's great," I say trying to choke back the tears. Pieces in my sleeves, under fingernails, and spit into my opaque water glass, still I feel as though I've consumed beyond too much. I sit in my bedroom, knowing I should be doing situps, trying to vomit, or at least thinking about how far I have to go. But, instead I feel the overwhelming emotions I've tried to subdue. The worries about my purpose and every little detail, questioning why I'm even alive, not being able to cry anymore. It's so overwhelming as I lie on my bedroom floor attempting to make all the thoughts go away. It's never hurt this much just to think. Perhaps this is why I fear eating. I can fully feel and think and I don't know how to handle such complexity. If I focus on food and weight, I won't be able to think about anything else. If I can't feel physically, I can't feel emotionally. It's a total win it would seem. I want to sink and shrink away. There's a lump in my throat reminding me how unbearable everything is anymore. 

I can't go on feeling. I can't keep thinking. I don't want to have to live with all theses thoughts and emotions.

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The next day, I try to pretend as if the hospital never even happened. I pretend like I didn't miss a week. I pretend that nobody knew why, though I'm sure at least my teachers do. I set out to run early, being sure not to wake my father. The weather is still cold and bitter, but hints of spring are in the air. I feel like these laps will never end. I feel actual hunger as I punch my stomach to make it shut up. I make it back home, do a quick change of clothes, and make it to the bus. Walking into the school is beyond nerve-wracking. Unfortunately, the first person I make eye contact with is Mallory. She looks at me, smiles, and walks away. She didn't say anything condescending, she actually looked ashamed. I go to my locker and turn around to see Ethan. He looks at me with sadness. "Welcome back," he says. I thank him and he sighs. "And before you ask, not everyone knows," he says. "Though Mallory found out so it won't be long," he leans against his locker. "I-I'm sorry," I say. "Dude, I wanna be there for you, but I just don't get it. You're smart Len, why the fuck would you care about your weight? Why do you want to be skinny, anyway, it's hideous," he says. "I don't know," I mumble. "Why can't you just eat!? You know how dangerous it is to st-" I cut him off and snap. "Why don't you just fuck off?" I interrupt him. He looks at me coldly. "Fine. I don't really wanna be stuck trying to convince you to man up and stop leeching off everyone's attention," he slams his locker and I am relieved he's gone. "Leonard, can I talk to you?" the school nurse steps out of her office. My chest throbs. "Sorry, I have class," I say. "I'll write you a pass, come sit down," she says. I hesitantly follow. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon, your parents didn't even tell us," she says. "Yeah, haha,"I try to deflect it. "The school counsellor has sent your transcripts to the colleges you applied to, but I wanted to make sure you're okay to go," she says. "I'm fine, thank you. Have a nice day," I say and leave. Fuck this. 

School was long and boring, many surprised faces, especially from my teachers. I run home, telling my parents I'm at Ethan's house. Lunch wasn't even a possibility and I feel like I'm back on track.