“Been busy. Classes and shit.” Nausea bubbles up my throat, competing with my headache for attention.
“Oh, that’s right. You’re takin’ a million credit hours.” Zac crosses his arms.
“Tryin’ to graduate.” I narrow my eyes, feeling unusually defensive.
“I don’t get that, though. Somebody’s gonna draft ya. What’s the point? I mean some of us need that backup plan, but not you.” Zac nudges my shoulder.
“The point is I’m four and a half years into an engineering degree and one bad injury could ruin my career. It’s somethin’ to fall back on.”
“Why’d an injury mess you up? That doesn’t sound like you. Your elbow was fine. You’re the star of this team. Someone is gonna pick you up. Maybe drop some classes and come hang out with us more.”
“I still hang out.” I stretch my neck, rubbing at the tight muscles, trying to get some relief from this goddamn headache.
Conrad and Dexter walk past us. I overhear them coordinating plans. They both have wives and babies about the same age so they get together on the weekends.
“I know you do. Just looks like you’re workin’ yourself too much. Maybe you need a break or somethin’. You certainly don’t need an engineering degree as much as you think.” Zac shakes his head.
“Quit givin’ me shit, alright? You just never know.” Jeez, do I feel like hell-warmed-over. Maybe Zac is right. I’m working too hard.
I should’ve stopped sooner at the gym. Didn’t want to. Pumping iron offered some distraction from the oppressive black cloud hanging over me. So I did a double workout before class. Then I didn’t eat after. Haven’t eaten much all week. Again. This is happening too much. I feel awful. But it’s nothing. I’ll get through it. I always do.
Briar walks in and we nod at each other. I’m glad he’s been cool about me ditching him for the morning runs. I don’t think I could handle more drama right now.
“You wanna go to the field after this?” Zac offers. “Maybe it’d be good to toss the old ball around.”
“I got a shit ton of studyin’ to do. Maybe Sunday?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I sit on the arm of the old couch beside Mick. He looks worse than I feel with dark circles under his eyes.
“What’s the matter? You fail McGibbon’s test again?” I knock his shoulder.
“Lay off.” His tone is harsh. He struggles with school, so that’s probably the last thing I should say. Batting a thousand.
“God. Take a joke already.”
He’s pissed. Gets off the couch. I sit where he was, massaging my temples. We’ve been roommates since freshman year. Never been like this. I don’t know what the hell is wrong. Not that I’ve been much company.
“What’s up with him?” Zac’s gaze follows Mick across the room where he sulks in the corner, crouched on his ankles.
“Haven’t a clue.” I roll my eyes. “Speakin’ of hangin’ out, what’re you doin’ tomorrow night?”
“The Splat.”
My mouth waters thinking about it.
Dennis and Ethan crowd next to our couch, laughing about some shit.
“You’re welcome to join. I think Mickey’s comin’ if he doesn’t still hate you.” Zac looks at Mick sulking in the corner. Jeez, Mick’s making it so obvious to the whole team.
“I’ll think about it.”
The door to the gym opens. A bunch of people come out. My vision is so hazy I don’t notice what team it was.
The guys start heading in. I stand from the couch. The room fades in and out, then goes completely dark. For several seconds, I can’t see my hand in front of my face. Fuck.
“You alright, man?” Briar grabs my elbow as I sway.
Forcing a breath, I blink it out. “Just stood up too fast.” I shrug. “Thanks.”
He appraises my statement for a moment. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yep.” I plaster on my brightest smile and open the door for us.
“Cool.” He nods.
I take my place for the photo, feeling sicker by the moment. Just a little longer.
After I change out of my uniform, I sit on the locker room bench for several heartbeats. I’m not okay. Just need to get home.
I stumble into the training room, to retrieve my backpack from Mindy’s office. My knuckles drum the frame by the door.
“Oh, hey, Bobby. Come on in.” She pulls her long brown hair out of her face.
I take a seat in one of the empty office chairs. Feel like I’m gonna fucking pass out.
“How were pictures?” Mindy sips her coffee, turning her chair away from her computer to give me full attention.
“Good. Just came for my backpack. Is it here?” I lick my dry lips, clearing my throat.
“Oh yeah, Jessica saw it in the exam room after y’all were all hangin’ out this mornin’.” She holds out my backpack. I stand to get it. The world turns dark. I grip the chair to keep from falling over.
“Ho, there.” She holds my shoulders and after a second lowers me into the chair. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes look me over, scanning for symptoms.
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t look fine.” Mindy always knows when something’s up. I mean, it’s her job, but she’s damn good at it.
“Just a blackout.” I shrug.
“How long you been blackin’ out?” She gives me a serious look. Shit. I’ve said too much already. Shit. Shit. Shit. She can’t know about this. But how am I supposed to get out of it now? Goddamnit.
“Just today. I got a headache. Haven’t been sleepin’ well this week.” A weight settles in the room. The frustration eats away at me the longer I look at her concerned expression. I’m so fucking sick of it. Sick of not taking care of myself.
“Headache, not sleepin’.” She lists off what I said. “What have you had to eat in the last few hours?” And there it is. The question, clear as day, that I can’t answer.
I stay silent, wishing I had the strength to come up with a lie. But I don’t. It’s gone too far. I do need her help. Fuck. I don’t want to need her help. I don’t want to do this at all.
She looks at her watch. “Did you have lunch? Breakfast?”
Nothing. Jeez, why can’t I think of some excuse?
“How long you not been eatin’?” Her eyes hold mine for several heartbeats.
Balling fists at my side, I clench my teeth. I swallow hard. Wish I was better at lying. Wish my brain wasn’t as starved as my body, then I could come up with a good reason to calm the fear I see in her eyes. Wish this wasn’t happening at all.
Mindy has done everything since my first day at Suncastle College. Gone above and beyond to take care of me. I can’t lie to her. I just can’t. “I gotta go.”
“No, Bobby.”
Feels like getting caught. Like I’m in trouble. But it’s all in my head. Mindy would never scold me for anything. Not even this.
Her eyes hold mine. “Somethin’s goin’ on. If you’re not eatin’, we need to talk about it, okay? Can you tell me?”
My throat closes up on itself. I feel worse the longer I sit here. Like a lost little boy. Fucking shit. I’ve done it now.
She goes to a little cabinet and pulls out some fruit snacks and a protein bar, then to the little fridge for a Gatorade. It’s not sugar-free. None of this is sugar-free. I can’t have it.
“How long since you’ve eaten?” She asks again.
“Um…” I rub my forehead with my thumb and forefinger. “I’m not sure.” Wrong answer. Batting a thousand, again.
“Does this happen a lot?” She sets the food on the desk in front of me. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here to help.”
I’m looking at the ground. If there’s a feeling stronger than embarrassment, that’s where I’m at. Senior year. Still not over it. Won’t ever get over it. Won’t ever be good enough for Lexie. Or a draft. Or anything. Not good enough for anything.
“Hey, now.” She pulls my chin up. “We’ll figure this
out, alright?”
“I don’t know how.” I squint my eyes tight, rubbing my eyebrows. Can’t believe I’m telling her this. The pounding in my head won’t stop. The torment won’t stop. So out of control. I try to imagine a black abyss and focus on a baseball. But it’s like it’s gone. Like I can’t reach the deep cleansing breaths. Or meditation. Or any of those things that usually help.
The foil crinkles while she tears open the fruit snacks. “Here.”
“Can’t have ’em.”
Her face is concerned. I’ve crossed a line and she knows it. She holds out one fruit snack. “Come on, let’s start here.”
One. I can eat one. Start with one. My finger trembles while I put it in my mouth.
“When was your last good meal?”
I strain to remember. “Sunday…?” Sounds terrible. “I’ve snacked though,” I add quickly. Not totally starving myself. Just skating that line a little too close. “I’m eatin’, okay? I’m eatin’.”
“But you haven’t had a meal since Sunday.” Standing at the file cabinet, she pulls my medical chart. I suck on the fruit snack. Takes all my power to keep it in my mouth. I can eat one fruit snack. I have to. She won’t let me leave until I do.
I can throw it up later.
My stomach knots with how heavy this moment is. I don’t wanna do that. I don’t wanna be like this anymore.
I’m sick of the fight. The constant battle in my head. Being in such a dark place.
My heart drops to my stomach. I was thin before the semester started. So thin that Sam noticed. Now, well, now I’m dwindling into nothing.
“Hey.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “We can get you some help.”
I open my eyes, worried about what the help might look like.
“I’ve seen you low before, Bobby. But not this low.” Her face is serious.
“I’m just stressed.”
“You’re stressed, have stopped eating and it looks like you’re droppin’ weight.” Her eyes linger on my body. Pants falling down. Hoodie fitting loose.
A couple people come and go from the exam room behind us. I turn in my chair, throwing my hoodie over my head, not wanting them to see me.
“Now that I’m aware, we are gonna put a plan together.” She glances at her watch. “Dr. Brown will be here soon for Thursday night visits. We need to have him do a checkup and make sure everything’s okay. He’ll probably send you to the lab for some bloodwork. You can wait here until it’s time. I’ll order in some food for when you’re finished with this.” She gestures to the snacks. “Am I gettin’ you a salad or a smoothie?”
“I have food at home.” I lick the sugar off my teeth, disgusted this is happening.
“Smoothie or salad?”
I close my eyes. “Salad.”
“Okay.” She calls in a takeout order from the campus cafe and sends one of her students to go pick it up.
“So sometimes you’re not eatin’. This been goin’ on for a while?” She’s given me a few minutes to swallow these snacks. I don’t want to talk about it, but I know she will keep asking.
I shiver, biting my chapped lip until it hurts. “Yeah.”
“Laxatives? Weight loss pills? Diuretics? Excessive workouts?”
“No. I just don’t eat. And sometimes I purge.” I sigh, this is so goddamn heavy. I wasn’t supposed to let this all slip out. Been keeping it a secret for years.
Why tell her now?
But shit, I have to tell her since I’ve opened my stupid mouth. “Mostly, it’s just the starvin’. But if I do eat, I’ll heave it up. I’ll double up on workouts. Goes on for a few weeks, then I snap out of it. Just takin’ a long time to snap out of it right now.” I fold my arms over the desk and rest my head on them. “This sounds horrible outloud.”
“We are gonna get you some help.” Her hand is on my shoulder. A moment later, Mindy rummages through her drawer until she fetches a business card.
My stomach drops as I read the words on the card. The fruit snack makes me choke as it goes down wrong. Dr. Simon Rogers, Psy. D.
She’s sending me to the team psychologist. The letters fade as I stare at the black ink against the white card.
“I think Dr. Rogers will be a good fit. If he’s not, we can try someone else. You want me to make an appointment for you?”
“I got it.” I close my eyes, clenching my jaw tighter. The air in this room suffocates me. It’s that feeling of impending doom mixing with low blood sugar and dehydration. The only reason I will agree to go is because I need to play this season. I need to prove that I deserve to be drafted.
“It’s okay to need help.” Her hand rests on my shoulder again, her tone kind. “We all need help sometimes.”
“You’re not gonna tell Coach about this, are you?” My mouth feels covered in sand. Senior year. My last season of collegiate baseball. The last chance I have to get drafted out of school. If he thinks something’s up, I won’t play as much. I know it. Oh, we can’t have Bobby out there when he’s not taking care of himself. I can hear it now.
I thought I was over this. Disappointment covers me like a cloak; I want to use it to disappear, but I can’t.
“Everything we talk about is confidential, but I think it’s a good idea for you to let Coach Conners and Coach Denson know about this.”
I swallow. Shit. No way am I telling them.
“They care about you a lot. It would help to make them aware of what you’re going through.” Her smile is kind. “Have you talked to your parents at all?”
“They are barely talkin’ to me.” I grind my teeth. Is this “tell Mindy every goddamn thing” day? May as well tell her I’m bi. Jeez.
“I would see if you can let them know.”
“No,” I sigh. “My dad’s a fuckin’ heart surgeon, Mindy. He’s not gonna handle this well. You and I both know. That’s enough.”
“I hope you think about it. There are people in your life that can help support you.” She tilts her head to the snacks, wanting me to finish before the salad arrives. I’ve still only eaten maybe three.
She pretends to be busy, watching from the corner of her eye. Like I can’t be trusted to be alone.
“You gonna make the appointment, or you want me to?”
Has it really come to this?
A student brings Mindy my bag of takeout and then leaves. I force down the food and rest my head on the desk for a few minutes, each heartbeat pounding against my temples.
The team doc comes and gives me a checkup. Orders a fuck ton of bloodwork. He and Mindy talk about next steps. Nutritionist. Food plan. Accountability. Weekly visits with the team psychologist. Weekly visits with team doc. Weekly visits I’ll have to fit into my schedule. A written contract that promises I’ll comply.
“I don’t have time for this. I’m taking so many credit hours. Working out so much. I don’t have time for all these appointments. It’s almost the season,” I tell Mindy, but it sounds like a little boy throwing a fit.
“I know it’s a big commitment, but we have to get you healthy again so you can play. Just like we did with your elbow.”
“This is not the same thing.” I lick my teeth, fucking sugar covering them.
“It’s important, Bobby. I can help. We’ll lump the appointments together as much as possible so that you have time for classes and everything. I don’t want you working out as much until we get you through some of this.”
I agree because I don’t have much of a choice if I wanna keep playing.
Apprehension works through me; I worry that Lexie could walk in on me like this. I still haven’t called her. Haven’t gone to visit her. All I’ve done is left her out to dry like yesterday’s laundry. She deserves so much more than that.
“You wanna let some of that stress out?” Mindy closes a folder she put together with all my appointment information and some printouts on nutrition.
“No.” I pull my backpack over my shoulder.
“You’ll eat again when you get home?
”
“Yeah.” I blow air out of clenched teeth.
At the apartment, I pop some Tylenol and sleep for a couple hours. A reminder text appears on my phone to eat. I mix a protein shake. I’d love the peaches in the freezer or a piece of toast with jam on it.
Peaches from our tree.
No. I don’t get to have that. Just the shake. Only the shake. It’s not much, but I think I can handle it. Maybe. Please, just let me. Fuck. Just let me.
My chest is heavy as I swish my blender bottle and go on my couch, forcing one torturous sip after another down my throat.
Mick isn’t here. The asshole is never here. Wish I wasn’t alone right now. Probably shouldn’t be. Thoughts are getting darker. So dark I’m frightened. Need someone to help. Briar’s parking in front of the complex. I see him from the window. He’d come over. I can call him.
No. I rub my forehead, debating more pain pills. Probably won’t feel good if I puke them up, though. No more pain pills. Just the shake.
Wanna call Lexie. Her number is pulled up on my phone. No matter how much I want to, I can’t bring myself to press the button.
The desire to heave up everything takes over. Sugar. Can’t have the sugar. Can’t have the calories. That salad from Mindy was drenched in dressing. I go into my bathroom and kneel in front of the toilet. My finger goes down my throat, the same way it has countless times before.
What would Lexie say if she watched me do this?
My mind is a freefall, tunneling into oblivion. I couldn’t do this in front of her. If I ever want to be with her, I can’t. This has to quit.
She’d tell me to stop. Even though she’s not here, I feel her support. “Don’t do this Bobby.” It’s like I can hear her voice. Like she’s right here with me.
That thought is my saving grace. She is my saving grace.
My arm braces the toilet seat. I rest my throbbing head on top of it. Hot tears fall into the bowl, instead of the sugar and calories that wanna come up. My traumatized mind wants them to come up. I can’t have them. It’s not cheat day. I can’t have sugar and calories when it’s not cheat day. I’ve gotta get rid of them.
“No. Don’t do this, Bobby.” Sam’s voice. Lexie’s voice. Dad’s voice.
A Game Like Ours: Suncastle College Book One Page 10