Seventeen and Invincible

It had been three months since Garrett’s attempts to tame me began—it was early May. I was cranky and angry and defensive and a force to be reckoned with. I was snippy and tired—you did not want to get on my nerves. The emotional pain rendered me nearly immobile. If I didn’t have Garrett by my side, I don’t think I’d be able to walk down the hallways without collapsing. It felt like the air was stuck in my chest and I couldn’t let it out. It was burning and bothersome. I was broken. I was dying—so it seemed. I couldn’t hold myself up half the time and I barely ate, because it required too much effort. I had lost seventeen pounds that I probably couldn’t afford to lose.

“Here,” he said as he gently placed a lunch tray in front of me. I was sitting at the table in the back corner of the cafeteria facing the wall. My shoulders were hunched forward in a state somewhere between defense and cowardice. I was shivering even though the air conditioning was on low and it was ninety-something degrees out. I could feel my ribs stabbing through my thin layers of skin and I could feel my stomach lurch forward as I saw the food. “Eat something, please,” he begged. I sighed, my head tilted to the side and resting in my palm.

“I’m not hungry, Garrett. I’m sorry.” He shook his head and sat down next to me. He lifted a French fry off of the plate and stuck it in front of my face. The greasy, artery clogging food smelled amazing, but the thought of eating it made me sick. The smell of food was making me sick.

“Even just eat a few fries?” he asked hopefully. I shrugged and toyed with a fry. “If you just ignore it the food won’t make you sick; it’s all in your head.”

“Can you get me tea and something salty? Like pretzels? Whenever I was sick when I was younger the salt helped.” He nodded and stood, walking back toward the cafeteria. I offered him money but he waved me away. He returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea and a box of Bachman pretzel sticks—they were the saltiest, and all that the cafeteria sold. “Thanks,” I mumbled quietly. I opened the pretzels and took one out and broke it in half four times. I ate each piece slowly, savoring it and sucking the salt off.

“Any better?” I nodded. The salt settled my stomach—even if just from this new depression induced anxiety. I took a sip of tea hoping to force away the headache that had come about from starvation. I looked emaciated, I’m sure. I was certain I was all skin and bones. I was certain that they didn’t even make clothes that would fit me anymore. I had regressed through my size fives, threes, ones and into my size zeros from the beginning of summer before freshman year—back when I had no figure whatsoever and I had no hips. At my highest weight, my curves weren’t exactly divine or painfully apparent, but at least they existed. Now, my hip and pelvic bones protruded and stabbed and pulled at the skin they were resting against.

“A lot better,” I said when I was halfway through the box of pretzels. “So much better.” Garrett smiled brightly and hugged me tightly. “Okay, Gar, you’re squishing me,” I laughed.

“Ani,” he sighed, “this is good. This is a huge step forward.” I nodded—I was aware. “You swore I couldn’t help.”

“I never swore,” I smiled, “I just said I thought you couldn’t.”

“You still never told me what was bothering you.” He eyed me curiously as I finished the pretzel sticks and took a bite out of a fry. I shrugged it off.

“It’s unimportant, Gar. All that matters is that I’m getting over it, right?” He grimaced and then nodded slowly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I guess.”

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Whenever there was nothing to do, we headed over to the lake. It was almost like it was our place. It never seemed like it was disturbed by anyone else. It was just for us.

“So,” he said slowly, swinging his arm around my shoulders as we sat quietly on the edge of the dock. The burning, aching feeling had subsided somewhat and made it easier to be around Garrett. “We’re getting signed,” he said sadly.

“That’s amazing!” I screamed. “I’m so proud of you guys. That’s awesome. It’s incredible.” He nodded and smiled a little. His face fell back to a frown. “What’s wrong? Why are you pouting? What’s the catch?” I laughed.

“Well,” he began, “we’re going on tour for most of the summer, and Pat and I plan on graduating early so we can tour during the winter.”

“Oh,” I said softly and sadly. “All summer?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You know that we just spent most of last month out in L.A.
recording. And with the record coming out we need to support it.” I nodded in response, pushing the strand of coppery hair out of my face.

“Yeah, I know,” I said quietly. I didn’t want him to go. I wanted him to stay. The selfish part of me wanted to ask him not to go, or to take me with him, but I wouldn’t be that girl. I wouldn’t be the girl who ruined it for them; who wouldn’t let him go. If I needed him to let me go in January when I left, I needed to be able to let him go this summer. “It just seems like so long,” I whispered. Not as long as forever.

“We need a merch bitch,” he smiled. I laughed in response. “You’re everyone’s first choice.”

“Don’t you think you guys could find someone more, I don’t know, personable? Someone with a little more personality and charisma?” He laughed and shook his head.

“No, no, we think you’re perfect for the job. What do you say?” I rolled my eyes and looked up at the bright Arizona sun.

“Maybe,” I smiled.

“Just maybe?” he laughed. I nodded.

“Just maybe.”