Wrists

It only took a small push for me to start talking. He sat there and listened to everything I could gather the strength to tell.

I must admit, it was nice for someone to listen, even though I did sound like a babbling mess trying to talk and cry at the same time. And when I was done, he said nothing. He just pulled me in and let me lean on his broad shoulder.

We sat there for almost an hour before he started talking. “Your parents don’t understand, you know.”

Silence.

“They don’t understand that you have an eating disorder.”

No more silence. “I don’t have an eating disorder.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not, you do.”

“Only girls have eating disorders.”

Elijah shook his head. “Not true.”

“I’ve only seen girls with eating disorders; never guys.” I spat. “Besides, I don’t think ‘thin is beautiful’ or shit like that.”

Elijah laughed a bit. “You don’t have to.” He turned to look at me. “You do know eating disorders come in different forms, right?”

Short silence.

“You seem to know a lot about eating disorders.”

Another hoarse laugh. “My major is to be in the medical field. One of the things I had to study was all about disordered eating. It’s kind of ironic that I just finished that topic before I met you.”

Silence.

“You have to tell them, Graham.”

“...There’s nothing to tell them.”

“Yeah—there is. Everything you told me.”

“No.”

“Well, think about it. Otherwise they will never understand.”

Silence.

And then: “I don’t want them to.”

Silence on his end.

Finally, “Yes you do.”

Silence.

And that was that.