The Lies We Told On Thursday Nights

4. Tuesday: Horrible Turkeys (Emery)

Hi everyone! Welcome back! So, I will always post two chapters with no more than a two-day gap~ 1 from Levi, and1 from Emery.

So this chapter deals with a way of a family "dealing" with eating disorders. To be honest, this is how my family treats me with my ed...they guilt trip me to my breaking point. I may gain a few pounds because of their guilt trip, but the moment they stop I go right back to my old habits. Guild tripping is not the best, nor helpful way to deal with a friend/relative with an eating disorder.

Sorry, needed to rant.

Without further ado:

Emery

Tuesday: 5:13 p.m

(sorry, going back a day...right after Emery leaves the library)

A few meters from the door, I combed back my hair, using a napkin from my uneaten lunch to dab the sweat from my forehead.

Despite struggling to breathe, the emptiness in my stomach pleased me. A smile grew on my face.

After catching my breath, and trying to remove as much sweat as possible, I pushed open the door.

The smell of roasted chicken and sweet potatoes engulfed me. My mouth watered for a moment, but it quickly vanished as I glanced at my fat self in the hallway mirror.

"Honey, you're home!" my mom gleamed, sticking her head from the kitchen.

My mom seemed exhausted, most likely from working all day and then having to come home to deal with my sister. And then me.

I give my mom a lot of credit, she works two jobs, helps my handicapped sister learning, and then, definitely, the low light of her day has to fight me to eat.

She disappeared back into the kitchen as I dropped my backpack onto the floor.

My sister was sitting in her wheelchair, waving her hands in the air in excitement.

She couldn't say so, but I knew she was glad to see me.

"Hey Nay," I grinned, leaning down a bit to be at eye level with her.

She clapped her hands, mumbling which I assume was my name. "Emee"

My name was Emery, yet, saying Emee was more than the doctors thought she would ever be able to say.

I leaned forward and hugged her, careful not to hit any of her medical equipment.

"Dinner," my mom called, re appearing in the kitchen door.

I wavered there for a moment, not wanting to go.

But my sister began rolling past me; she stopped for a moment. Flapped her arms and called my name.

I needed to go, for my sister at least.

I hated this external, strange emotion driving me to do something I hate.

I walked into our cramped kitchen and took my corner seat. The one closest to the trash can.

Naya rolled up into her spot as my mom sat at the head of the table.

Nausea came over me as I glanced at the piles of sweet potatoes--covered in brown sugar and butter. Then there was the chicken, bathing in a garlic broth and topped with gravy.

My chest began to tighten as the sweet potatoes became a pile of vicious digits and the chicken grew fatter.

I began sweating, my hands growing clammy. My vision blurred as the smell of all the calories slammed against me. Suffocating me.