Skin and Bones

Gerard is eating slowly. Each time he’s about to put a bite of food in his mouth, he glances out the corner of his eye at me to make sure that I’m keeping up. We promised each other to tell when we felt full. I felt that with the second bite, but I don’t think that’s normal – I don’t think it’s a feeling of being full.

We’re on our fifth bite now. Gerard still hasn’t said anything. I stare at him as I chew fast to keep up. Some of the bites I swallow feel so big, but everything I put on my fork is never the size of what’s on Gerard’s, so it can’t be that big.

Gerard chews quickly and swallows it down even quicker, before he waits for me. I try to keep up, but the food just won’t go down. It’s like I’m full up into my throat, but I can’t be. It can’t be right.

“So, Frank.” I turn my head and look at Donna. She’s smiling softly.
“I need to know what you like and don’t like to eat, so I won’t risk making something you can’t eat.” I glance down at her plate, but quickly back up.
“What don’t you like?” I glance around the room nervously. I hate to insult her. What if she makes the best meatloaf in the world and I then say I hate meatloaf?

“I don’t like juice.” Juice is neutral. Unless she squeezes some herself. She could have a juicer. Or a manual one.

“Okay. What else?” I bite my cheek and just go for it.

“Pancakes.” It comes out sounding like a slight question.

“Okay. I’ll make sure to make something else on Sunday morning as well. Mikey can’t live without his Sunday pancakes.” She laughs quickly. I smirk up at her.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice that Gerard’s fork is filled with food. I quickly gather some up on my own.
“So, what is your favorite then?” I look up at Donna, then quickly over at Gerard. He’s staring at his plate, while picking at his food.

I look back at Donna and shrug. Her smile fades a bit, and she looks at me sympathetically. I feel guilty.

I look down at my fork. I see Gerard raise his, so I do the same. Once the food is inside my mouth but still attached to my fork, I feel slightly sick. Bile is pressing its way up my throat. I quickly pull the fork out and close my mouth. I look down at the edge of the table.

I can’t do this. I can’t eat.

Gerard’s hand is quickly on my thigh and he squeezes it lightly. My free hand reaches underneath the table and grab onto his hand. I squeeze it hard.
I need him.