Eat My Heart Out

I toss my marker across the room, close my eyes and rub my face with my palms.

My brain is dead. Completely and fucking utterly dead. Deceased. Long gone and should be buried 10 feet under.

I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore.

Without opening my eyes, I get off my bed to fumble and feel my way out of my room and halfway up the stairs. When I think I’m halfway, I open my eyes to make sure that I don’t step on a non-existent step, only to find that I’m only two steps from said step.

Go me!

I turn and walk down the hall towards Mikey’s – for once – silent room. He’s over at his friend’s or Alicia’s or somewhere between the two. Not sure. Didn’t listen when he told mom this morning. All I got was that he wouldn’t be home for dinner. But hey; as long as he’s safe – in every way – I don’t care where he’s at. Or what he’s doing wherever he’s at.

I walk into the silent room to find Frank sitting in front of the computer screen. He’s got one hand on the mouse, while the other is squeezed between his chest and the edge of the desk as he leans forward – the screen only inches from his face.

I’m about to tell him how sitting so close to the screen is bad for his eyes, when I spot a mutilated animal on the screen. I frown deeply and walk closer to him. He hasn’t noticed me yet, even though it’s completely silent in here and he’s got his side to me.

I step closer as he scrolls down. A picture of a dead pig hanging from a hook appears beside a bunch of black letters on a pink background.

“Is this research for your paper?” I ask, utterly confused. Frank jumps and turns around quickly, his eyes wide and tense when they meet mine. I smile lightly and he relaxes, before he turns around to face the screen.

“Do you know the kind of shit farmers do to animals?” He scrolls up to reveal one horrific picture after another.
“They keep them in tiny cages so they never get any exercise, so that there’s more fat on them when they get butchered.” The last word that exits Frank’s mouth sounds a little shaky. It makes me frown deeply.
“Chickens are kept in overcrowded farm houses with no insulation or venting.” The shaky words turn into a voice laced with sadness.
“Even horses are either overworked or overfed.” He sounds on the verge of tears, and it gives me a clenching feeling in my stomach and chest. I can’t breathe quite right.
“All because we keep eating more and more of them, as if they were never even alive.” He’s not crying, but the sadness in his voice is so overwhelming that I immediately turn him around in the office chair and pull him into my arms. I hug him tight and pet his hair, kissing his neck now and then.

“Why are you reading about all of this?” I whisper into his hair. I inhale his soft, sweet scent and close my eyes to enjoy the moment. It’s moments like these that I feed on – that I look back on when I need to.

Frank slowly starts pulling away and I let him, raising my head to look at his sad face. He looks unsure – insecure.

I keep running my hand over the side of his head, stroking his dark hair out of his gorgeous, innocent face.

“Do you think it’d be okay with Donna if I became a vegetarian?” My eyebrows shoot up briefly, before they turn into a light frown.

Vegetarian means no meat. No meat means only vegetables. Vegetables means less fat.

“Why do you wanna become a vegetarian?” My voice is slightly shaky, but I don’t think Frank notices, since he lowers his head as if he’s ashamed. Or fear my rejection.

I move my hand out of his hair and instead cup his chin to lift his face up. He glances at me quickly, before he looks off to the side.

“I just don’t want to eat meat anymore. I don’t think I can.” He tries to glance over his shoulder at the screen. I stroke his cheek with my thumb.

“It’s okay,” I whisper softly, and finally Frank looks at me again.

Even though I’m afraid that he’s gonna eat too little and not get enough of all the things you’re supposed to get, I can’t not support him on this. I’m proud of him for making this decision. I’ve wanted to do it too, but I’m too addicted to meat. But while I’m proud – and almost jealous at his determination – I’m more worried.

Frank’s eyes suddenly widen.

“I promise to eat healthy, Gee!” he says in a rush.
“It’s not just some phase or impulse. I just-“ he stops and sighs heavily, looking up at the ceiling as he does.
“It’s not an excuse. I need to do this,” he says as he stares into my eyes.
“I promise you,” he says and cups my cheek, “I will eat the same amount as I usually do.” He smiles, and I smile back.
“Twice as much, even.” He leans forward until his lips and eyes are less than an inch away from mine – our foreheads and noses pressed together.
“Just for you.”