The Way We Get By

11 // Ramona

Dinner was pleasant tonight, after Liam and I finished talking about my issues, that is.

I explained that I had only recently started and that I wasn't seriously addicted, which was true. I'll probably be able to kick the habit in a few weeks time.

I watch from my end of the dining table as Liam walks around the table to pick up the empty plates. He stops when he gets to Alex, though, noticing that like usual, he hasn't eaten anything.

"Leave it," I say to Liam, leaning back in my seat with a sigh. "Alex and I need to talk, anyways."

Liam nods and pats an anxious Alex on the back as he carries the dishes away. Lucy and Angel are already in the kitchen helping clean up, and that leaves only Alex and I at the almost-empty dining table.

The only thing remaining on the table is Alex's untouched food and my suppressed frustration. I'm not frustrated with him, though. It's more of a frustration with myself. The fact that I can't help him as much as I want to.

"Your dad told me what happened yesterday with the pizza," I begin softly. "I'm sorry."

Alex keeps his gaze fixated on his plate of chicken and vegetables, and I watch some unreadable expression of longing and hurt flash through his tired, sad eyes.

"He didn't handle that very well," I continue. I know it's very likely that I'm not going to get much out of him, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't try. "He gave me this, though."

Alex moves his eyes to watch me as I pull his phone out of my sweater pocket and I see his face brighten when he sees me set it on the table between us. He makes no move to grab it and I make no move to push it over to him. A bitter silence hangs over us.

"Is there any way I can get you to eat?" I plead without intending to sound as desperate or teary-eyed as I do. "Just one bite?"

But the tears slowly come as he stares coldly at the plate and clenches his jaw. He starts to reach for his fork but pauses in mid-air, something that makes my breath catch in my throat.

He's barely eaten more than a few granola bars since we first found out about his eating disorder last week, and I just need him to eat something to ease my mind. The thought of him going to bed hungry every night breaks me. It sends a punch to my throat that narrows my breathing and stops my heart from beating.

My boy, the kid I've put my heart on the line for for the last fifteen years, is hurting himself in all the ways similar to what I used to do, only with food. And I swore I'd never let one of my kids feel that way, and I've failed as a mother to protect him from his own mind.

Alex freezes as he debates whether or not to grab his fork and his eyes move lower to stare down at his lap. I'm not sure what he sees that makes him suddenly change his mind, but when he lifts his eyes back up to his plate, he pushes it away from him with a stern, "No."

It hits me hard once again, flooding my vision and turning it blurry. I can feel Liam's eyes on me from the kitchen, but he doesn't make a move to come and help me out like I wish he would.

"I hate that it has to be this way," I croak with a shaky breath once I've managed to collect my tears. "But you can't have this back until you eat. I don't know what else to do for you."

I reach out with an unsteady hand and pull his phone back towards me.

"You're not handling it much better than dad did, just so you know," Alex spits. He shoots up from his chair and throws a glare in my direction. "Crying doesn't make you a better parent than dad. It just makes you a more dramatic and pathetic one."