EAT

“Kassandra, it’s time to wake up,” I heard someone say to me as they shook my shoulder. I stirred and rolled over, opening my eyes just slightly to take in my surroundings. White walls, ugly outdated tile, heart monitor, IV drip, a way to friendly nurse; all these things made me want to scream. I looked around; searching for a familiar face of a loved one or friend, but all I found was the annoying face of this smiling nurse. “Kassandra, are you ready for your lunch?” she asked.

The pain in my stomach was absent. Somehow, they found a way to force food into my unwelcoming, hungry body. The thought made me shudder. I needed to get out of this place. “I’m not hungry at the moment, ma’am. But I’m sure if you’d like to leave my lunch then my appetite will return soon,” I smiled.

“Oh no, Kassandra, you don’t fool me. I’ve got to sit with you until I’ve seen that you’ve consumed enough of your lunch before I can leave. It’s my job, dear. I know that’s not what you want, but unless you want me to sit with you for the rest of your visit, then I have to see that you’ve eaten something,” she explained.

I sighed, furious. Where the hell was my mom? Couldn’t she just check me out of this wretched place? Certainly she knows that I’m not going to eat anything at this point, and I know she doesn’t have enough money to keep me here forever. And where was Rachel? Did my best friend care at all about my feelings? I was pissed, and I really wasn’t looking forward to spending the whole afternoon with this irritating nurse. I sighed again, pretending to give in. “Ma’am, could you bring me my lunch please?”

She smiled, thinking as though she had changed my mind. “Certainly, Kassandra.” She swiftly grabbed her clipboard and left the room, retrieving my lunch in no time flat. “Here you go, dear,” she said, placing my lunch on the bed tray before me. The smell pulled at my stomach. It looked delicious. The stories I had heard about hospital food was clearly exaggerated, because this meal was making my mouth water. Mashed potatoes with a lake of gravy flowing through it, freshly cut turkey, a pile of cooked carrots, newly baked roll, and a small bowl of fresh fruit with a small glass of water.

Before I could even register what I was doing, I grabbed the roll and bit into it. A tiny moan found its way out as I devoured the turkey and mashed potatoes, leaving the carrots and fruit for last. I ate every last bit of my lunch, and I felt as full as I had ever been in my whole life. I was tempted to lick the plate clean, but I resisted the urge.

“Congratulations, Kassandra. You’ve finished your treatment. You can go home now. Let me just call your mom and therapist, you can pack your things and freshen up in the meantime,” she smiled, opening the door. “I just want you to know that we’re all so very proud of you. You’ve come so far.”

I half smiled, a lump forming in my throat as she left the room. A tear rolled down my cheek because I felt defeated. All these years of not eating, over. I had built up so much strength, just to have food break me down again. I sat up, getting out of the hospital bed and walking over to the bathroom mirror to examine myself. I looked healthier, I’ll admit that, but it’s not about the fact that I looked better—I didn’t feel any better. I gripped the sink hard, squeezing my eyes shut and trying my best not to cry. But I couldn’t help it; I was too broken. My body shook with sobs, my heart hurt, and I felt so hopeless.

I shakily walked over to the toilet, lifting up the toilet seat and getting down onto my knees. I hated doing this, but I couldn’t think of any way to feel normal again. I needed to feel normal again. I licked my salty, cracked lips and gripped the toilet bowl with my left hand, bracing myself. Without thinking, I shoved my finger down my throat and gagged until finally something came up. I didn’t stop until I felt empty again.

I flushed the toilet and somehow made my way to my hospital bed again. I was panting like a dog, my face matted with sweat and all I wanted to do was sleep, or cry. I did a little bit of both. My mom showed up shortly after and disappointment was written all over her face. “Kassandra, get up and get your things,” she said coldly.

“Yes, mom,” I mumbled, trying my best to avoid eye contact. I gathered my clothes and the contents of my purse that was emptied out on the foot of my hospital bed. I quickly changed out of my hospital gown and followed my mom to her car.

I got in the car and awkwardly sat there, waiting for her lecture about how lying to her was the worst thing I had ever done and that all she and the rest of my family wanted was the best for me and my health. I was tired of the same old speech she always gave to me every time something like this happened. Her words never affected me, and they certainly wouldn’t change me now. But, I had a feeling she finally knew I wasn’t going to change, because all she said was, “I’m disappointed in you, Kassandra.” Another lump formed in my throat and we sat in silence for the remainder of the drive.

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“I’m so proud of you, Kassandra,” my therapist cheered, giving me a huge welcoming hug. “I knew we could break through to you! Some of us had our doubts, but I knew my Kassandra was getting better,” she smiled at me. “So, how have you been feeling lately?”

“I’ve been better,” I sighed.

“But you’re eating again!” she threw her arms up in excitement. “That has to count for some kind of mood change,” she questioned.

“Well, yeah, I’m feeling loads better, actually,” I lied. To be totally honest, I haven’t felt worse. All I’ve been doing the past week since I made my “miraculous recovery” is eating and throwing up. I felt sick and weaker that I had in years.

“That’s really wonderful to hear, Kassandra,” she said. “Well, as you know, this is sadly our last session together. So, all I ask of you is to talk. When I think you’ve finished, then we’ll wrap up. So, take your time,” she smiled.

I sighed, running my hands through my hair, tugging slightly. I was all out of lies. I’d said them all before, and now when I needed them most—where were they? I didn’t know what to say, and I knew that I’d be sitting here all afternoon if I didn’t say anything. So I picked the first thing that popped into my head. “I like cats, did you know that?” She gave me a look, as if to say, C’mon, you can do better than that. I closed my eyes. I had to tell her something she wanted to hear, and that of course would be about my eating. “Have I ever told you why I stopped eating?” I asked her.

“No, actually, I don’t believe you have,” she noted. “But go on.”

I thought back to the last time I’d told someone my reason. It was the beautiful boy, Carson, that got it out of me. “You’re really something special, did you know that?” he smiled shyly at me with a little laugh. Something about him pulled at my heart. I wanted to tell him every little detail about me. I wanted him to be all about my life. But when you had something this heavy weighing on your shoulders, it’s a bit hard. “Tell me something, Kass,” he smiled at me quickly before parting his lips. “Why are you afraid to eat?”

“Because,” I sighed, finally giving in. “Eat is one letter away from fat.”

He chuckled slightly in confusion, “I’m afraid I don’t understand, what do you mean?”

“I have, as my therapist calls it, Sitophobia. I’m afraid to eat, Carson. Along time ago, when I was about thirteen, my best friend died because she had diabetes. It happened so fast. One night she was at my house, and the next her family was making funeral plans. I was broken after that. I’ve never had someone be taken away from me like that before. So I stopped eating. At first it was because I was in mourning and I felt too sick to eat, but after awhile, my eating just stopped all together. Food disgusts me. I don’t want to die like my best friend because of something so stupid like food,” I explained.

“I guess I understand. But Kass, I just want you to know that everything happens for a reason. And I’m here for you, no matter what happens, always and forever, okay?”

“Okay,” I nodded.

As I spoke, my therapist didn’t interrupt. She respected my wishes for her not to ask any questions. So when I finished, I grabbed my things and I left.

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I pulled into the graveyard and sighed. Why was I even here? It had been nearly four years since my last visit and just sitting in the parking lot made me emotional. But I was through just driving here and leaving. I had to visit her. It had been so long, and my heart felt totally empty at this point. I opened the door and got out, the cold and windy winter air brushing across my pale cheeks. I jammed my hands into my jacket pockets and made my way through the familiar area that I had once known so well.

Her grave was covered in a small layer of freshly fallen snow, but I knew I had reached it when I did, because something brought me onto my knees. My body crumpled into itself and I sobbed, gasping for air with every breath. Why did I even come here? I thought to myself. I needed closure, but this was getting ridiculous. I sat up and wiped my tears, clearing my throat and staring at the words that were engraved into her tombstone. “Here Lies Rachel Smith, loving daughter and best friend.”

I traced the cursive words with my index finger over and over until my fingertip was raw. “Why did you have to leave me, Rachel?” I whispered.

“I’m sorry, love,” she spoke. I looked up to find her beautiful face sitting beside me, frowning slightly. I’d seen her randomly all over after she passed, but only when I needed her most she was never around.

“Why don’t you ever help me anymore?” I cried.

“I can’t, you and I both know that. I love you, and that’s why I’m still here. But I promise nothing bad is ever going to happen again, Kass,” she reassured me, kissing my cheek. I closed my eyes for a moment, and then she was gone again.

I stood, dusting the snow off my legs and making my way back to my car. I started the engine and waited for warmth to fill the air, but it wasn’t fast enough. I tugged the center console open, in search of mittens, but all I found was a delicate candy bar sitting at the top, as if it was waiting for me. I picked it up and weighed it in my hand, considering my options. Just eat it, I thought. Nothing bad is ever going to happen again. I closed my eyes, then opened the wrapper and took a bite. Nothing had ever tasted so good in my whole, pathetic life.