Skin and Bones

My eyes blink open and I look around at all the blurs of colors.

“Donald! He’s waking up!” Donna calls and I hear footsteps.

“He’s waking up.” The blurs slowly become clearer and clearer and I start seeing the brown blur as Donna’s hair.
“Yes,” Donald says, and when he comes into focus I see that he’s holding a phone.
“I can hear the sirens now. Alright. Thanks,” he says quickly and hangs up.
“You okay, Frank?”

I passed out.
It dawns on me as if someone’s set me on fire – my brain suddenly receiving signals from all over my body.

“Frank?” Donna asks, and I feel something stroke my cheek.
I nod.

When Donna gets up, I can still feel something stroke my cheek, and when I move my head to look up, I feel something soft beneath it.
I see Gerard. His eyes are glimmering and wet, and his nose and cheeks are red. He looks so cute.

I smile up at him.

“In here!” Donald yells, and suddenly two paramedics storm into the room and over to me.

“How long was he out for?” the woman asks as she kneels down beside me and pulls a flashlight out of her pocket to shine me in my eyes. I squint at the bright light.

“Maybe 5 minutes,” Donna answers, before the guy grabs my wrist and looks at his watch.

“What’s his name?”

“Frank.”

“Hello, Frank. How’re you feeling?” I look off to the side and see Mikey leaning against the wall to the kitchen. He looks worried.
I quickly look back at the woman.

“Fine.” My voice is gruff and raspy, which makes my one word sound like an utter lie.
I don’t even know if it is. I haven’t had any time to figure it out.

“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?” I think for a few seconds – feeling my body – and shake my head.
“What happened?” the woman asks – her voice softer and less frantic now – and turns to look at Donna.

“He was just picking at his food and said he wasn’t hungry. I told him some bad news and then he just closed his eyes and collapsed in his seat.”

“Pulse is 98,” the guy says and finally lets go of my wrist.

“Alright. He might just be hypoglycemic, but his high pulse could be a sign of other complications, especially since he’s so young and underweight.” I close my eyes. Being called underweight feels like a slap in the face. It might be true, but if it isn’t, it’s just a big, fat lie that people use in order to hurt me even more.
“We’d like to bring him in, just to make sure.” My eyes fly open.

“No!” I look at everyone. They’re staring.
“I- I promise to eat. I promise, just please; no.” I look up at Donna and beg.
I can’t go. I’ll eat. I’m gonna eat all the time if that’s what it takes for me to stay.

“It’s not just that, Frank,” the woman says sweetly, before she looks up and mutters for her coworker to get the stretcher. She looks back down at me and smiles.

“Please?” I whisper and feel tears rise in my throat. I look up at Donna. She’s standing with her arms folded and frowning down at me. I can tell she’s in doubt, but I can also tell she’s about to give.
The man comes back with the stretcher.

“Is it really necessary? I mean, people pass out all the time, right?” Donna asks and I relax a bit. She briefly smiles down at me.
The woman sighs.

“I think it would be best to get him checked out, but if you don’t want to, then we can’t force you.”
I look up at Donna and beg her again. I hate to make a feel guilty. I try not to – I try to just make her understand that I don’t want to go – but I can tell she is.
I just don’t want to go. If I go, then my dad will have something to hold against the Ways. He’d be able to point at my chart and say how I haven’t improved since I started living here. How I’m still malnourished and wrong.

“He’ll be fine,” Donald says confidently. I look up at him to see his confidence firmly planted on his stiff face. His crossed arms makes him look dominant.

“Alright,” the woman says and gets to her feet. The man follows.
“Just make sure he gets a lot of rest. He also needs to get his blood sugar levels up, so give him some fruit before he goes to bed. And a lot of water.”

Donald nods. He reminds me of a rock in the surf by how unfazed and in-control he still is. He’s like some kind of superhero.