KISS: Casablanca High School

Ch 72: Mistakes (Bruce)

I walked up to my front door with a sigh, stepping over the ice patch and walking inside. Mom was sitting in the kitchen, arms folded. "Bruce, we need to talk," she said in a quiet voice. Frowning, I sat across from her at the table. "Why, did something happen?" 

"Why aren't you at wrestling practice?" My heart dropped and I shrugged, refusing to make eye contact with her, knowing full well it looked like I was lying. "It got cancelled," I mumbled. She let out a sigh, reaching across the table to grab my hand. "Don't lie to me anymore. I got a call from Coach Elder this afternoon. How long has this been going on?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about. A call about what?" I asked, not even knowing why I was lying. "Your eating disorder! Your bulemia! That's not healthy, Bruce, you can't keep on living like that! I've taken your coach's advice and I've signed you up to speak with an expert in the field. You have your first session today." 

"Therapy?! You went and signed me up for therapy?! Mom, you didn't even talk to me about any of this beforehand! How do you even know I have a problem?!" 

"Don't argue with me, Bruce. Your appointment is in thirty minutes. We're leaving now." "Oh what, I can't be trusted to drive myself to an appointment? What am I, six?" 

Shaking her head, Mom rose to her feet, grabbing her purse. "Get in the car and lose the attitude. You're going to therapy whether you like it or not." 

Scowling, I followed her to the car, sitting in a sullen silence as we drove across the city to get there. I didn't say anything as Mom filled out all the paperwork, and I didn't say anything when a middle-aged woman walked into the waiting room, holding a notepad and wearing a gentle smile. "Bruce?" 

Mom nudged me and I rose to my feet, stuffing my hands in my pockets and walking over toward her. She extended a hand but I didn't accept it. "Hi Bruce, I'm Dr. Chikara. It's very nice to meet you. Why don't you come back into my office and we'll have a little chat?" 

I shrugged. "Not like I have much of a choice," I mumbled, trailing after her into her office and sitting on one of the two plush chairs, wishing I was anywhere else. "So what's going on in your life right now?" 

"Like you don't already know," I grumbled. Dr. Chikara raised an eyebrow, jotting something down on her notepad. "Tell me things I don't know, then. It's important that we talk and can establish some things about yourself." I took a shaking breath, crossing my arms. "Well for starters I got suspended from the wrestling team a few weeks from state during my senior season. My last season." She nodded, looking at me. "Why did you get suspended?" 

"There's this kid, he transferred to my school this year and I thought we were friends but he went behind my back and reported me to our coach, who then confronted me and got me suspended," I said, feeling my heart clenching as I said it out loud. Dr. Chikara nodded slowly, tilting her head as she looked at me. "Why don't you tell me more about your friend?" 

I took a deep breath, running a hand through my hair. "When he first transferred to my school he was super nervous around me so I tried to reach out to him to make him feel welcome and all that and we ended up hitting it off and we became really good friends and all that but I mean like obviously we're not best friends so I don't trust him with everything so I didn't tell him about how I was trying to change how I looked but he ah...he figured it out and instead of just talking to me about it he went and told Coach, who said he had to suspend me from the team because I wasn't a healthy weight anymore," I said in a rush. 

She nodded sympathetically. "I see. Now do you think that's a fair decision?" "No! Yes! I don't know! It's not like I'm dying, I'm just dropping a few weight classes! I know what I'm doing and I can stop any time I want!" I cried. 

Dr. Chikara nodded slowly before looking at me. "Bruce, let me be frank with you. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but both your coach and your friend are right to do what they've done. Despite you denying it, you have an eating disorder. Having bulemia nervosa is nothing to be ashamed of, but it is something to overcome. That's what I'm here to help you do. I need you to be honest, Bruce. What in your life do you believe caused this disorder to manifest in you?" 

I sat back, stunned by the question. "Well I...I don't know what you're talking about," I said softly. "But you do know, Bruce. You are doing something incredibly common in people affected with the disorder in the way you are, which is to deny and justify your actions. But I know that deep down you know you have a problem and you need help. But to help you, I need to first understand why you're doing what you're doing." 

Shaking my head, I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. "There's no problem to discuss. I'm tired of losing when I wrestle 172s so I'm dropping down to the 130s because there's not many of those on our team." 

She let out a sigh, setting down her notepad. "Continue." "And and a lot of my friends are in way better shape than I am and they all seem to be happy, happier than I am, so I just wanted to try and be like them. Like my friend Paul, he's really muscular with like a six pack and stuff and his life is great. He's had a girlfriend for years and he's super athletic and super popular and everyone loves him and he's hella rich and I wanted a taste of that life and so I figured that if I looked more like him I'd have a life more like his. But you know like most people my age I'm impatient so I'm trying to expedite the process." 

"I can understand that and your feeling, but are you certain that is the best way of achieving happiness? Living your life trying to be someone else won't help you with much, but living your life as the best person you can be will serve you much better. Before I can help you with any of that, I need you to accept you have a problem." 

I looked at the clock, rising to my feet. "My mom said I had a halfhour session. It's been thirty minutes. Thanks for helping me diagnose a problem I don't have," I said in a flat voice. Dr. Chikara sighed, rising to her feet and opening the door. "I'd like to talk to you again, Bruce. We'll meet again soon." I shrugged, scowling. "Whatever makes my mom happy I guess," I grumbled, heading back to the lobby. I sat waiting as Mom scheduled another appointment in two days, which was just fantastic. Love trying to fix a problem I don't have. 

To my surprise, Eric called me after I got home. "What do you want? Finally gonna admit you were wrong?""I saw you were in therapy. Are you okay?"  he asked. "Who the hell told you that?!" There was silence for a moment until he let out a sigh. "I uh...I saw you on the Snapchat map, you were at Dr. Chikara's. I went to that office for therapy my freshman year a few times. Are you...you okay?" 

"Stay out of it, Eric. I didn't ask for your opinion or your help," I snarled, before hanging up, shaking. I immediately opened Snapchat, unfriending him. Tears welled up in my eyes as I then moved over to Instagram, unfollowing him there, until I had blocked him on every piece of social media. I paused for a moment, about to delete his number, before letting out a sigh, realizing that as mad as I was I wasn't completely ready to give up on him. 

There was still the chance he'd apologize to me, still a chance he'd realize he's wrong.

Realize that I'm fine.