Don't Treat This Like a Secret

It begins as any normal Saturday morning in the Barakat household. May and Jack showing up in the kitchen for breakfast, Jack annihilating his whole stack of pancakes, along with the rest of May's. Alex shows up around eleven, he and Jack spending time playing video games until they congregate back into the kitchen for lunch.

Joyce makes maccaroni and cheese, sitting a bowl in front of the three teenagers, each loaded with chopped franks. Just how Jack's always liked it.

At first, it's nothing. Jack digs in, Alex following at a slightly slower pace, and May sticking to the piece of celery she'd been eating. She finally reaches over, grabbing the maccaroni box that'd been left on the counter, studying the nutrition facts closely.

After a moment, Alex leans over, plucking the box from her hands and tossing it in the garbage can with an exclamation of protest from May.

"You don't need to look at that," he says in a solemn tone, turning back to his bowl as the other two watch in confusion. May gives him a sour look, sighing but leaving it alone.

The conversation goes back to normal until May tries to slip away.

"May, you haven't eaten anything," Joyce says.

"I'm not hungry," she replies.

"May," Jack starts, lips turning into a frown, "You haven't even touched it. How could you not be hungry. You ate like two pancakes this morning and a stick of celery. A rabbit eats more than that."

"Leave me alone, Jack. I said I'm not hungry," she replies irritably, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Can you two not do this right now? We have a guest," Joyce tells them, sighing quietly. It's just a deterrent honestly. Over the last month or so that Jack and Alex have been together, Alex has hardly left. He's witnessed plenty of fights and arguments, and even been a part of one or two.

"How can you say that, Mom? She won't fucking eat. Isn't that a red flag to you? She's been doing this shit for months and all you say is to leave it alone! What the hell even?" Jack exclaims, shoving his chair away from the table. All forks are down now, no one eating.

"Yes Jack," Joyce starts, her voice shaking, but serious, "It is a worry to me. But what can I do? We try to make her, it makes it worse. You can't force her."

"Yes you fucking can! She's almost passed out like five times in the last month that I can think of. You know something is wrong! Make her eat!" Jack exclaims, his face showing anger but his eyes showing worry.

"I'm fucking sitting right here." May snaps.

"Will you two watch your mouths," Joyce tells them.

Jack lowers his voice just in the slightest, ignoring May's words, "Mom. You know something is wrong. Everyone keeps tip toeing around it and the subject of food all together. What's it going to take. She's my fucking sister and I worry about her. Why won't anyone do anything?"

"What am I supposed to do, Jack? You and I try. I cook everything that I know your sister likes, but she doesn't want it. She refuses. I can't do anything more than that if she refuses." She says.

"Can you two stop talking about me like I'm not here?" May asks, her voice angry but full of tears as her eyes well up, "I don't even know how to make it better. I don't think I can. I don't think these things go away," She whispers, about as much of an admittance as she's willing to give.

Alex decides to pipe up then before anything gets out of hand and tempers flare. He'd been all but forgotten, staying silent and staying out of the family affair. He can't lie and say he hasn't noticed his boyfriend's sister never eats, and she's scarily skinny, but he's stayed out of it until he heard the admittance leave the girl's lips, "I haven't forced myself to throw up in almost two years."

The angry arguing words between mom and son cease and the room falls silent, all eyes on him. But he focuses his gaze on May.

"I.. You.." She inhales a shaky breath, "Wh-what?"

"I had bulimia for about three years. From when I was thirteen to when I was sixteen. It's been almost two years since I've made myself throw up," he repeats.

"You have an eating disorder?" she asks, her voice quiet as a tear rolls down her cheek.

"Had, May. I had one," Alex replies, "I'm okay now."

"You never told me," Jack whispers and Alex turns to see two other sets of misty eyes looking at him.

"There wasn't much of a need. It doesn't define me, Jack. It doesn't define your sister. You have it, it doesn't have you. She doesn't need to be attacked nor does she need you to make her eat. When food becomes your fear, you need support. She needs your support."

"Alex, I..." she says again, at a complete loss for words. He straightens up a little, reaching over to pat her small hand.

"Every meal is a personal accomplishment for me, even now. Every snack makes me feel like I just got a gold star. I have to distract myself after I eat so I don't think about locking myself in the bathroom and sticking my fingers down my throat. I have scars on my knuckles still and it's a struggle to not study food labels like they're the SATs. But it gets easier. Recovery is possible." he tells her, "Food isn't an enemy."

"It feels like it," she whispers.

"I know it does," he agrees, "But you're not defined by a number, neither the amount of calories you eat nor the number that flashes back at you when you step on the scale. I'm still learning to be proud of myself instead of disgusted when I gain a pound or two. But there's honestly a certain amount of relief in it now." he says, "I still step on the scale sometimes, but it's no longer an obsession."

His voice even shakes a little as he continues, "You have your family's support behind you and that is a huge deal. You can beat it, May."

She stares at him for a moment, tears slowly making tracks down her cheeks. She glances down at her bowl, silence ringing loudly in the room. Everyone jumps just slightly when Alex moves, he leans forward, slowly picking up the fork that had never been placed into the cheesy noodles. He flips it over, holding the handle side toward May.

She looks at him, her bottom lip trembling as she glances down at the metal. She lifts her hand, taking it from him slowly and he gives her a smile. He leans back against his chair, picking up his own fork and pointedly takes a bite of his noodles.

He gives her a smile and a nod of encouragement, squeezing her arm when she takes the bite, "See? Tastes good, right? Your mom is a pretty good cook, you don't want to miss out on that, right?"

"She is," she whispers, a small smile on her lips as she glances over to her mother. The rest of the meal is silent, slow, but it is at least a little over halfway completed by Jack's sister, something that hasn't happened in a very long time.