To the Bones

It was almost an accident. They drew their diseases at random from slips of paper in a fishbowl. Ryan pulled anorexia, which Spencer thought was the funniest thing in the world considering Ryan weighed 104 pounds at the time.

It was during his research in the library that he accidentally stumbled across the website. He’d never even heard of anorexia being referred to as ‘ana’ and he’d never seen pictures of her, of Ana. She was grotesque, collarbone sticking out, ribs, hips . . . She both disgusted him and intrigued him at the same time. A girl walked past him in the library and he hit the ‘back’ button, scribbling the name of the site on the top of his notebook.

His dad came into his room when the page was open on his laptop. Ryan was digging around in his dresser looking for another pen. His had exploded in his backpack.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Ryan stood up, glancing at the computer screen his father was staring at in distaste. He hadn’t given much thought to the fact that Ana was only in a bra and underwear until that moment.

“I have to write a paper about anorexia for health class.” He crossed back to his desk and set the blue Bic pen on top of his notebook.

“Why the hell’d you pick anorexia?”

“They were assigned, Dad.” The boy rolled his eyes.

George Ross laughed. “Maybe teacher of yours is trying to tell you something.”

“Dad, I’m trying to work.” the boy said pointedly.

It was after his father had made one more comment and shut the door that the boy started clicking the links at the top of the page. He’d never realized people be so completely insane. Yet still . . . beneath the disgust, there was that intrigue. He printed Ana’s picture out and hid it in his notebook.

That notebook would end up in his dresser and he would find the picture two years later. The disgust would be shifted entirely toward himself and he would look at Ana in jealousy and awe. But not yet.

That night Ryan stood in front of the bathroom mirror for an hour, leaning against his arms on the sink, scrutinizing his reflection. He had pretty eyelashes. His last girlfriend had said that a lot. She had wanted his waist, too. He had dumped her for always saying things like that. It got annoying.

He knew he was skinny. He had no delusions about being fat. He saw his body the way it was, except his face perhaps. He never bought that he was ‘beautiful’ or could be a model like that lady at the mall had said once.

“It’s just a stupid assignment.” he muttered angrily to himself, pushing back off the sink and going back to his bedroom to finish researching the damn disease. He had no idea this paper would change the rest of his life.

By the time he turned in his A- paper two weeks later, Ryan was drinking diet soda and skipping his typical bedtime snack. Nothing bad really. Most nutritionists would have even called it a “healthy change”.

Baby steps. Fueled by his sick fascination with the thinspiration websites, the pictures of sticks girls, the ‘thin commandments’, the poetry. It just buried itself in his brain until it took over.

By the time Ryan met Brendon he was on a calorie-restricted diet and threw up anything he swallowed. He weighed ninety-six pounds and his collarbones were starting to look like Ana's. Brendon thought he was beautiful, even if he looked like a half-starved twig.

They started dating almost as soon as they met. Ryan would take Brendon to dinner and pretend to eat. Brendon would pretend not to notice. Boys didn't get eating disorders. Not boys like Ryan at least. He was just naturally skinny. No one would want to look as frail and breakable as he did.

After high school, Ryan went to college. Brendon would sneak over to his dorm room on the weekends when his roommate was gone. They would kiss in his bed under the sheets, Ryan's hands on Brendon's chest, Brendon's hands under the back of Ryan's shirt, trying not to notice his vertebrae.

They’d been together a year and a half when Brendon decided it was time for sex. Up until that point it was mostly kissing under the sheets with Ryan occasionally disappearing beneath the blankets to give the other boy a blowjob. Brendon had never even seen Ryan with his shirt off.

They were kissing when he pulled away and said it, looking straight into Ryan’s beautiful brown eyes with the dark bags under them. “I . . . I think we should have sex.”

“No.” Ryan whispered, giving a small shake of his head.

“Why?” Brendon was upset, put out. It showed in his voice, in his face. “I mean, we’ve been together long enough.”

Ryan shook his head again. “Not yet.”

“Well, when then?” Brendon snapped.

“When I lose ten pounds.”

Brendon sat up, arms crossed, looking angry. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

The older boy rolled onto his back, staring up at his boyfriend. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t noticed how bloated I am lately.”

“Bloated?” Brendon look scared, his eyes narrowed like he’d never seen Ryan before. “Baby, you’re hardly bloated. You’re a fucking twig.”

Ryan’s eyes rolled in his head. “I’m not a twig. You are. You don’t need to lie to me. I know how fat I am.”

Brendon crawled over Ryan and out of the bed, grabbing his jacket off the floor. “You’re delusional. I’m going home. Sleep this off, okay?”

“What’s wrong? Why are you leaving?” Ryan sat up, scrambling out of bed and grabbing his boyfriend’s wrists. “Don’t leave. I want you to spend the night with me.”

“No.” Brendon pulled away. “Go to sleep, realize you’re entirely too skinny, and call me when you wake up.” He slipped on his shoes and slammed the door behind him.

Ryan lived off water and vitamin supplements for the next three days. He lost a pound. He also fainted in his Biology lecture. The school called his dad, who told Spencer’s mom, who told Spencer, who called Brendon. Ryan’s boyfriend showed up at six-thirty while Ryan’s roommate was at study group.

“You passed out?”

Ryan huffed and sat down on the edge of his bed, blanket wrapped tightly around him. “Well, word travels fast.”

“What happened?” Brendon sat down beside his boyfriend, kissing his cheek and slipping his arms around the bony shoulders.

“I don’t know. Stress, probably. I have two tests this week. And you’re mad at me.” He twisted his hands in his lap, keeping his head down.

“Well, I’m not mad anymore.” Brendon said. “I’m worried. Jesus, Ry. Fainting in class?”

“Well, I’m awake now.” Ryan said, slightly irritated. “And my roommate is going to be back by seven.”

“Let’s go out for supper.” Brendon suggested. “You’ve probably been in bed all day. You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry, Bren.”

“You’re not still on this diet kick, are you? ‘Cause I talked to my mom about it and she—“

“You did what?” Ryan jumped up entirely too quickly, closing his eyes as the room began to spin.

“Well, she’s a nurse. So I thought she’d know if you needed to diet.” Brendon lowered his head almost guiltily.

Ryan’s eyes snapped open. The room was done spinning. “Your mother doesn’t know shit about me.”

“I was worried.” Brendon leaned forward and grabbed the older boy’s hands, but Ryan pulled away. “You’re too thin, Ry.”

“Shut up.” The boy crossed the room to the door and pulled it open. “You should go. He’ll be back soon and he still doesn’t know I’m gay, so . . .” He nodded toward the hallway.

Brendon sighed heavily, looking hurt as he left the room.

It would only get worse.

Like a plant, surely the body can be trained to exist on nothing, to take its nourishment from the air.