Jet Black Hearts / l.h.

𝟏𝟔

Thursday, October 1, 2018
6:17 p.m.
Stony Trails Park

"Are you dressing up for Halloween this year?" Luke asks, leaning back on his hands.

I shrug. "No." Honestly, I forgot about Halloween. I haven't really done anything on that holiday for the past few years. The last time I stayed up watching scary movies, ate sack fulls of candy, and dressed up in costume must have been when I was around ten years old. The only reason why I remembered Halloween last year was because the trick-or-treaters were annoying when they continuously rang the doorbell.

"What about you?" I ask.

Luke nods. "I dress up every year. My mom doesn't believe in me being too old to trick-or-treat with my little sister."

I take note that he has a sister. I wonder what she's like, and if she has blue eyes and blonde hair like Luke.

My eyes trail over his face. Does she have his pointed nose? His round chin?

"What are you going as this year?" I ask after a moment.

He shrugs. "Whatever my sister wants me to dress up as."

A few minutes pass and the only sound that we hear comes from cars passing and the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. My mind wanders to three days ago when Luke gave me a ride home. He seemed sincere about his offer for me to call him whenever I needed to, but I don't think I'll take him up on that offer if the time comes. Luke already has his own problems; he doesn't need mine stacked on top of his. The piece of paper with his number written on it remains untouched in my bedroom on my desk.

My mind travels to less than an hour ago. I wasn't sure how to act around Luke when I arrived at group therapy, but as soon as I entered the circle he smiled brightly at me. And then he offered to hang out afterwards, which is what we're doing now. We're at the park watching the sun set. We're sat in the grass beneath a tree. A few meters away is the sidewalk where Luke parked next to. There is a slight breeze, which I'm thankful for. I don't think sitting outside with my outfit covering almost all of my skin would be very comfortable if it was hot.

Luke suddenly breaks our comfortable silence.
"Can I ask you a question?"

My eyes slowly make their way to his, which were already set on me. I nod.

"When did your depression start?"

I shrug. "I don't know for sure," I answer truthfully. "It was around the time my brother moved out and started studying abroad, I think, so maybe four years ago."

Luke nods thoughtfully. "You missed him?"

"No," I say, picking the grass out of the ground. "We were never close. He wasn't there for me like big brothers are portrayed in the media. He never cared and pretended like I never existed." I rip more grass out of the ground.

Luke frowns as he ponders over my words. Another silence falls over us.

I tear out a big chunk of grass.

"You're killing the earth," Like whispers playfully, attempting to lighten the mood.

I look up at him. He smiles.

"When did your eating disorder start?" I ask him.

Luke turns and gazes out at the setting sun. The lights of the fiery ball in the sky glow on his face, the smile disappearing off his lips.

"I developed the mindset about two years ago, but it really started last year. I was diagnosed a few months ago." He looks at his feet laid out in front of him.

"Why did it start?" I ask.

Luke bites his lip. "It's dumb."

I wait for him to continue. It takes a while, but after a few deep breaths, he speaks again.

"I just." He stops and laughs humorlessly and rubs his forehead. "It's literally so dumb, but anyways, my dad left and that just stressed me out because my mom was torn about it and I tried to be the father-like figure in my sister's life. And then my mom started dating this guy. He was a personal trainer and I'm not a very active person, and he was a total health guru, and he always commented on how unhealthy my weight was."

Luke stops again. He squeezes his eyes and purses his lips.

"Sorry. I know it's stupid, but it's hard to talk about it for some reason."

"It's not stupid," I say quietly.

Luke doesn't acknowledge my words and sits up, rubbing the dirt from his palms as he pulls in his long, skinny legs. He sits with his knees pulled up to his chest and wraps his lanky arms around them, locking his fingers together.

"Long story short, I got really insecure about my weight and my mom's boyfriend started to force me to go to the gym and always judged me whenever I ate something, even if it was, like, an apple." He picks at the dirt under his nails. "But my mom broke up with him when she found out that I was compulsively over-exercising and starving myself, so it's okay now."

I play with a blade of grass in my hands. "But you're still not okay, and that's not okay."

He smiles at me. "I'm getting there."

I drop the blade of grass and turn so I'm facing Luke. He watches me with interest.

"Why do you smile so much?"

His smile widens and his teeth become visible. It's honestly such a beautiful sight; his teeth, his dimples, his shining eyes, and the sun radiating off of his skin. His entire being emits warmth and a sense of security.

"I usually don't smile so much," he admits. "I guess you make me smile."

"Weird."

He laughs. "Sorry, but it's true."

I don't know what to do in response, so I turn back and face the sunset with my hands in my lap. I feel Luke's gaze on me, but I don't do anything.

Finally, he asks, "Why do you do that?"

I raise my brow. "Do what?"

"Squeeze your hands, or whatever you're doing," he says.

I look down at my hands in my lap. I didn't even notice I was clenching then. I stretch them, my joints popping quietly, and busy them with the zipper of my jacket.

"I don't know," I answer.

Luke holds out his hand. I stare at it, unsure what he's doing. He notices my unsureness and takes my hand from my lap and turns it in his hand so mine is palm-up. There are faint nail marks in my skin. His thumb grazes over them gently before he lets my hand go.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

I shrug. "I don't even notice. I think I do it whenever I'm feeling a lot of emotion."

He hums in thought.

"I've always done that, though," I tell him. "Since way before the depression."

He nods.

We don't say much after that. We watch the sun disappear underneath the horizon in silence and sit in the dark for a few minutes before Luke gets too cold and we return to his truck. I unlock my phone as Luke drives me home. My mom texted me a few times, asking where I was and when I was going to get home. I quickly text her that I'm on my way home before turning off my phone.

I glance at Luke driving. He turns on the turn signal before coming to a complete stop at a stop sign, and then proceeds to turn.

He notices my gaze and looks at me. He smiles. I smile.

⎸
You know all those songs/quotes that say that it's okay to not be okay?

It's true, it's okay to not be okay, but in recovery it escapes my mind that it's also okay to be okay. Don't beat yourself up if you're feeling fine and you haven't felt that way in such a long time so you think you shouldn't, or if someone else isn't okay but you are okay. But, it's also okay to not be okay. Just make sure you pick yourself up and brush off the dust.