brittled mind

9

A month later

"Leonard, you got mail," my mom announces as she comes home from work. "Really?!" I feel surprised. She smiles, shows my dad, and he lights up.  "This one's from Cornell," I feel my hands tremble. My chest is pounding. If I get rejected this is the end of me I'll never be able to do anything if I can't get into college I'm stupid and worthless stupid worthless-

Dear Mr. Harperton,

Welcome to Cornell University

The pounding stops and I smile.

"I got accepted to study at Cornell," I beam and my parents scream with excitement. "This could be your turn around," my dad hugs me. "You're gonna be a doctor!" My dad shrieks after pausing. "Or he could change his mind," my mom suggests and we all stop for a moment. "Celebratory dinner, how about that?" My mom lights up. Ignorant little b- "Or we could let Len do what he wants?" my dad suggests. "Yeah! Where do you want to go? We'll invite grandma and grandpa and have a nice night out," she urges. "Oh uh, I don't care," I see Isa walk by. "Isa where do you want to go for dinner?" I pass the buck. "Don't know, don't care," she echoes. "We'll figure it out," my mom says.

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I've successfully fasted all day, so I feel confident in stepping on the scale. In the past month I've whittled down my intake further, almost worse than before the hospital. Fortunately, even the few tricks I picked up have been so handy. Not having friends at school to push me to eat means I don't have to hide it and I can go to the workout room instead.  Dinner is the only meal I really have to get around. 

I managed to get below hospital admission weight, but not by much. I shake as the scale stands in front of me. 

I make a deal with myself: below 80 pounds, I can eat anything! Above 80, I can eat salad without dressing. Above 85, and nothing. 

Rationally I know what it'll be. And I'm proven correct when the number settles at 82.7. Effort is finally paying off. I can't believe it took this long, but alas it has.

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We arrive at some family owned Italian restaurant in the next town over. My grandparents-my mom's parents, arrive promptly. It's moments later that my dad's mother arrives as we're already sitting down. She's carrying a bottle of wine and wearing pearl earrings, while my mom's parents are sophisticatedly in matching country club nightlife wear. "Hello, Ruth, lovely to see you again," 'white grandma' as my siblings secretly call her, greets my 'black gram'.  "Thanks, Barbara. Been a while," she pops open the wine without even a corkscrew. "White Zinfandel, perfect for celebrating our grown man," she says. "Mom, he's not even 18, let alone 21!" my dad exclaims in panic. "Relax, you were drinking beer out of your father's cabinet at 15, yeah, I caught you. Plus his birthday is this month," she pours it into the glasses meant for water. My grandparents on the other side of the table look horrified. The waiter comes and gives us wine glasses, then proceeds to ask us for our order. "She'll take the kids spaghetti and meatballs," my dad orders for Halima. "I don't want the kids, I want the real one," she complains and they agree on "adult spaghetti". "I'll take the Rainbow Antipasto Salad with light dressing," my mom orders. Oh no it's my turn. At a table full of pastas and parmeseans, I could be like my lame ass mother and get a salad or I could try to be normal? But I did drink the calorific wine...hmm

"Uh can I get the house salad with no cheese and no crutons?" I ask

"So you just want lettuce, onion, tomato, and dressing?"

"Oh no dressing"

The waiter looks confused but writes it down. 

"So, Leonard, congratulations on Cornell," white grandma sips her Zinfandel. "What are you planning on studying?" she asks. "I will most likely double major in biology and chemistry so that I have better chances of getting in to an accredited medical school," I say, hoping this is the extent of questioning. If I say all this and still fail, that would prove how weak and stupid I am. "Did you hear that Richard? Our grandson is going to be a doctor," she nudges my grandpa. "A doctor of what?" He questions. "PhD doctorates are alright, but MD doctorates are top notch, which it sounds like you're going in to. A surgeon? An oncologist?" He raises his eyebrow. "He'll be whatever he damn wants to be," Grandma Ruth interjects embarrassingly. "I'm deciding between cardiology and internal medicine," I nod. "What are you two going to do when your big brother is away at college?" My grandpa asks Halima and Isa. "Get my college applications finalized," Isa smirks. "Oh really?" my grandma jokingly challenges her. "I'm going to be a paralegal you see. Harvard is the goal," she explains. Oh, Isadora, you are something else. "I'll probably just be the same," Halima shrugs. 

The food comes out on trays. Everyone digs in and basks in "how delicious" theirs each are. I stab mine. There are carbs in vegetables and too many veggies would be too many carbs. Everyone at the table reminisces about their college days as Isa and Halima continue their own conversation. I am alone, praying for this meal to be over so I don't give in to the temptation of eating everyone's food. Finally the meal is over and half my lettuce is in my pockets. "Leonard, did you get enough? How about dessert?" Black grandma asks. "Oh no thanks, I'm stuffed," I say. Before anyone can respond, Halima interrupts asking what they're going to get me for my birthday. I hate the attention but this kind is better. As we part ways, I feel self conscious about being hugged but try to just deal with the discomfort until I can get home.