Changes

The light hurt my eyes, I had to roll over and hind under my covers from it. I noticed though that I wasn’t in my bed. I sat up and looked all around. My mom was in the chair across the room asleep and I felt a needle stabbing my arm. The I.V. was poorly taped and it itched, but that wasn’t the worse part. My head was stinging and my stomach was tight. A nurse walked in and looked shocked when she saw me. “You need to lay down,” she said as she gently pushed me back, “You had quite a fall and bumped your head pretty hard on the counter.” I rubbed the side of my head and cringed. There was a large bump and a bandage.
“You had to get a few stitches but you’ll be just fine, you just need rest.” She was checking the I.V. and I looked past her to my mom who was waking and getting up to rush to me. “Ben, are you okay?” I looked at her, confused and asked “why am I here?” she paused, as did the nurse, and a long silence hit the room. My mom held my hand and spoke the words so clear I could never forget, “You have an eating disorder..” silence. “You’re gonna be getting help.”
My head began throbbing again, I could hear my heart beating and my moms hand was hurting mine, the nurse stared me down to check for signs of passing out but I knew that’s not what this was. I realized it was my hand hurting my moms and I let go, she continued to stare at me and I looked up at her, “I’m sorry.” I whispered under my breath and she fell down, wrapping her arms around me tighter than ever and we both spewed tears.

It was awhile before my mother let go of me and before we both stopped crying. Somewhere along the line the nurse snuck out without either of us noticing and had left a note. I didn’t care to check it yet, I felt sick and alone even though my mother was stilling clinging to my hands. “Ben, I’m sorry I never noticed. I knew you had trouble, and you were always so skinny..” I’m going to puke, “Mom, stop, this isn’t your fault at all. I just didn’t think of it being anything out of the ordinary.” that made her smile, I don’t know why, I felt like crying more. “Knowing that, tells me that this wasn’t intentional, and that you’ll get help fast and it won’t be hard.” She got up and kissed my head, “I have to go home, your sister will be back and I need to pick her up from school. We’ll be back later.” she blew me a kiss and left.
I sat wondered how long this has been going on. I’ve always had trouble eating for as long as I could remember. Food and I never got along, there was always a battle, and I always lost. I remembered the last time I had a meal without any worry was about a week before my dad got sick. We all went out for dinner when he got home, we went to a fancy restaurant and I had shrimp scampi, my favorite. Everyone was happy. Molly was giggling over everything, mom was laughing, dad was talking non-stop, and I was eating like there was no tomorrow.
I guess in a way, there was no tomorrow. The following week was just like any other, we hardly saw my dad while he worked, Molly hid in my room on the computer, I hung out with Aaron, and my mom was my mom. Then one day we got the call, my dad was sent to the hospital. He had fell down at work and fainted. We rushed to the hospital. I remember seeing my dad in the bed, he couldn’t move, he was pale white and sweaty. He wasn’t my dad.
They informed us that my father was diagnosed with cancer. They informed us that my father was dying. The look on my mothers face was horrifying. She didn’t cry, she didn’t scream. She looked at my dad and he looked at her, and they stared at each other for five minutes before sending me and Molly out into the hall. I snuck back in and watched them. They spoke no words, only sat beside each other, staring. I remembered thinking they were mind-readers. I thought my dad was superhero that day, I thought he would make it through everything then.
That thought excited me, I ran through the doors and jumped onto the bed shouting “my dad is my hero.” My mom looked up at me and burst into tears. I didn’t understand why, to this day I don’t fully. But I don’t ask. We don’t talk about my dad’s illness. That was 5 years ago, my father is a hero. He got through a lot with the chemotherapy and everything else, but we’ve had our scares and our problems. He’s had multiple surgeries and he was once bed ridden for 6 weeks. When that was going on they had him stay home, they thought for sure his time was up. But he’s still here. From then on I guess I have had my eating problems. I don’t know why exactly, but who does?
The nurse walked in with a tray of food and I looked at her and I felt my cheeks burn. She smiled and set it down and told me to “eat up” and that I’ll be watched. She scooted the table over me and opened the lid over the plate. It reeked of various foods. Mushy peas, potatoes, and some meat thing. My stomach was terrified and I suppose my expression didn’t look much better because she patted my shoulder and told me to take small bites and chew slow. I grabbed my fork and laid it in the potatoes, lifting it then slowly licking what was on it off.
The nurse sat down in the chair and pulled out a magazine. I wanted to cry. Was this what the rest of my life will be like? Watched constantly, having people worry about everything I do. I dropped my fork and the nurse looked at me. I realized why. “My dad has cancer,” I told the nurse and she frowned and opened her mouth to say something but I interrupted her, “he can’t eat sometimes. And we’re always over his shoulder breathing down his neck. We’re checking on him every five seconds.” my eyes began to sting. She caught on and sat up, “You wanted him to know he’s not alone.” She caught on, and she hurt me. Tears toppled over and skid down my cheeks. I wiped them quickly and nodded, looking back at the food.
She was right. My father was my hero. I wanted to be just like him in every way possible. I wanted to be his hero. I picked up my fork and stabbed at the potatoes angrily, I saw the nurse watching me but I didn’t care. I was hurt, I wanted what hurt me to feel my pain. I stabbed at the food, mixing it up and before I knew it I was screaming and attacking my plate. The nurse jumped up and ran over, shoving the table away and tossing the fork then swooped me up in her arms, smothering me in her motherly chest. I tried to breath but I couldn’t. I stopped crying almost instantly and flushed bright. My face was smashed in between her breasts and it hurt. She rocked me and I gasped for air.
She brushed my hair, rocking me, and shushed me. I don’t think she realized that I wasn’t crying, I was struggling. Her chest was suffocating me. I pulled back and looked up at her, she smiled and patted my head. I smiled back, poorly and looked at my feet. She told me she’d be back with a soda and a janitor to clean up my room and she walked out. I laid back in bed and stared at the ceiling. I checked the time on the clock and saw 5:36 pm. This was going to be rough.

I must of fallen asleep because when I looked at the clock again it read 7:45 and there was a soda sitting on the table and my room was clean again. I sat up and found a new note; Ben, we stopped by but the nurse told us what happened and that you were sleeping, we’ll come by tomorrow with your things and to talk to the doctors. Molly and your father send their love. - mom
Perfect. I laid back and thought about who else knew about me being here. The idea of missing school wasn’t so bad except everyone would eventually know I’m an unstable child staying in the hospital. Then it dawn on me. I picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello?” Aarons voice stung in my ear through the line.
“Aaron it’s me.”
“Ben? Where are you? What number are you calling from?”
“I’m in the hospital,” pause, “I have an eating disorder,” pause, “It’s bad.”
Silence took over between the phones for what seemed like forever, but was more about a minute. I heard Aaron trying to think, he was trying so hard to contain the line between friends and lovers, he no longer knows how to pretend. “Aaron,” I started “say what ever you want.” Tears, I could hear them slam against the counter top in his kitchen, the muted breaths as he tried to calm himself, he coughed, and groaned. “How long will you be there?” I smiled, “Long enough.” he frowned, “will I get to see you?” I smiled more, “I think I could make time.” He smiled now, “think so?” pause. “I know so.” more smiles for the both of us.
Aaron is my best friend, I really would do anything to make him happy, and I know that this conversation could of gone many ways. He cried, feel stupid, get mad, never speak to me again. He cried, I cried, we confess our passions and have the deepest conversation in existence. I wasn’t in the mood for either of those, so I chose to walk the thin line in between the both. It seemed to of worked quite well, except it took us awhile to hang up. He wished me luck, told me to stay strong and he’d get in touch with my family to know more, I told him I’m sorry and that I’ll still be here when he needs me and not to let anyone take my place. That last bit seemed to hurt him yet fill him up with happiness all at once.
We hung up and I checked the time, after nine. I rolled over and buried myself in the shitty covers. I counted slowly, breathing deep, and waited for the sleep I’ve been dying for.