by Dinah McLeod
“There it was, right there!” I said out loud, coming back to the present. It was right there in my memories—she had always been a brat, I’d just been too love-struck to see it at the time. Of course, I’d thought it was fun when she teased me and we bantered back and forth—which had only begun to happen after I’d relocated my voice box, of course. But now that I thought about it, hadn’t there always been something about her that implied a bratty side?
Whatever the word for it, there were days when I couldn’t believe she’d taken me in so completely and hidden it so well. I’d been hers, heart and soul, from the very moment I’d first laid eyes on her. From the first look into her beautiful, doe brown eyes, she had my heart, stock, lock and barrel. Sure, she had a temper on her, but didn’t most women? Yes, she liked getting her own way, but she was the only girl and the youngest. Besides, I loved being able to spoil her. I loved her excitement and enthusiasm for life. She was always on the move, and trying new things, so what if she had a few minor meltdowns? Didn’t loving someone mean loving all of them?
I’d always had an excuse ready to dismiss any behavior that bothered me. There was only one time that I couldn’t sweep her behavior under the rug. In truth, I hadn’t even known what the behavior was, just that it was pulling us apart. We hadn’t been dating for more than a few months when I began to notice that she only ordered salads whenever we went out to eat. At first, I thought it was just a female thing, and dismissed it, assuming that the salad diet was big in Cosmo that month or something. When she began getting thinner, well, it didn’t bother me all that much. Sure, I’d always thought she was beautiful just the way she was, but if she wanted to modify her appearance, what right did I have to say anything?
As the weeks went by just eating a salad wasn’t good enough. She began to obsess over everything she ate. Sara wouldn’t let anything pass her lips without first checking the fat content. She made sure that she never had a full serving of anything. She drank two glasses of water before she would order a meal. It just kept getting worse with each passing day. It was a little embarrassing to sit at a table and have to wait until she finished her water before I could order, but more than that, I was worried about her.
Whenever I commented on it, always making certain that my voice was casual, and non-confrontational when I did, Sara would dismiss my concerns with a wave of her hand. Time and time again she assured me that she was just trying to be healthy, and that she was happy with the way she looked. The thinner she got, the more intense she became about losing weight. Her clothes already hung on her lose frame, but it was like every mirror she passed belonged in a Halloween fun house, because she couldn’t see the truth when she looked in them.
I didn’t have the first clue what to do. Sara constantly seemed so tense and stressed, and every time I looked at her, her face looked sharper and more angular than the day before. It had gotten to the point where I thought I would probably have to break up with her—sure, I loved Sara, but I was in no way prepared for this kind of relationship. We weren’t having fun when we were together anymore, and she didn’t seem to feel comfortable talking to me about what was behind the sudden changes.
I can’t help her, I told myself as I was driving to her house. It’s for the best. Really. She’ll find someone that she can talk to, and I… I couldn’t even finish the thought, because I suspected my heart might break before I could even get the words out. It wasn’t like I truly believed that there was anyone else out there for me, but I was determined to do the right thing for Sara, knowing that I wasn’t the man she needed. I was finding it impossible to protect her from something only she seemed able to see.
I stood fidgeting on the doorstep, waiting for the door to be opened. When it was, I was relieved to see Mr. Cochran. At least he could provide a buffer for a few minutes.
“Well, hello there, Ethan,” he greeted me with surprise. “What are you doing here, son? Do you and Sara have a date I don’t know about?”
“No, sir. I just need to talk to her. I just thought I’d swing by, if that’s OK.”
Mr. Cochran eyed me curiously for a moment before opening the door wider. “That’d be alright, I guess. Come on in.”
I followed Sara’s dad into the house and joined him on the couch. We bantered a bit about football, and the Heisman nominees, but I was only half listening. I don’t think either of us was really invested in the conversation. We both kept glancing toward the staircase waiting for Sara to materialize. Of course, she wasn’t expecting me. I knew I should call out to her, and let her know that I was here to see her, but given the unpleasant task ahead of me, I couldn’t think of a good reason to hurry the inevitable.
“She should be here in a minute,” Mr. Cochran said, reading my thoughts. “She’s in the bathroom. She spends a lot of time in there these days.”
I smiled weakly. “Women, I guess.”
Sara’s dad stared at me in silence until I squirmed. I didn’t have a clue what I’d said that had upset him, but there was no doubt in my mind that I had. I had always been a little intimidated by Mr. Cochran, even though he was nice enough to me. Now that I was painfully aware that I was being put on the top of his crap list, he seemed downright scary.
“You do know what she does in there, don’t you, Ethan?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Um…” My mouth felt dry as sandpaper. I knew that an answer was expected of me, but the question caught me off guard as much as a pop-quiz I’d forgotten to study for. The truth was, I had no idea. In that moment I felt like a fraud sitting on her couch when everyone, including her dad, knew that I couldn’t take care of her. “I…”
“She’s throwing up.” Mr. Cochran said it so calmly that I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly.
“I’m sorry, sir? Did you…”
“Isn’t that what she does these days? Eats an apple, or a piece of celery, and throws it up?”
“I…um…I didn’t…”
“You didn’t know,” he stated flatly. “How much attention do you pay to my daughter, Ethan?”
“I know something’s been up with her but I thought…she said she was on a diet. She said she was happy,” I muttered, feeling more stupid with every word I uttered.
“You’re going to have to learn to do better than that. My Sara is a tricky one,” Mr. Cochran advised. “She needs to be looked after, and protected. She has a good heart, but she loses her way sometimes.”
I nodded, but couldn’t meet his eye. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just. I’m not sure I’m the one to, you know…watch her.”
“Is that so?” he asked, his voice gruff. “Why is that?”
“I’ve tried, I really have, but she just won’t talk to me. I’ve tried everything I can think of. I’ve given her gifts, complimented her, taken her out, and begged her to talk to me. Nothing works.” I looked up, hoping for some sort of sympathy, or at least understanding but Mr. Cochran had turned back toward the staircase.
Several minutes went by without either of us speaking and I was starting to feel more uncomfortable with each moment that passed in silence. My palms had started to sweat, and I wanted more than anything to get out of there. Would he even stop me if I got up to leave?
“So that’s it then?” he asked, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was better at talking than long, uncomfortable silences. “You’re just going to leave her when she needs you? I have to admit, I thought you were better than that.”
“It’s not like that!” I protested. “I told you, I’ve tried.”
“You don’t know much about women, do you, son? If she won’t talk to you, you have to make her.”
“No offense, sir, but I don’t think anyone could make Sara do something she didn’t want to.” I almost laughed at the thought, but managed to choke it down at the last minute. When I looked up again Mr. Cochran was giving me a small, sad smile.
“Do you love her?”
The question was posed quietly without malice, but it tore at my heart all
the same. “Of course I do.”`
“If you did, you’d be willing to do whatever it took to make things right again,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“There’s nothing I can do,” I said, my voice rising in desperation. “This isn’t something I’ve done. I can’t fix it.”
“You have to help her.”
He said it like it was simplest thing in the world, but I had no clue what I could do to help her. “How?”
“Tell her you’re not going to allow it anymore. Tell her to stop, and make her stop.”
Yeah, right. No way was I going to touch that. The one and only time I’d ever took the authoritative role with Sara was when I found out how little studying she’d done for her test the next morning. I told her that I was ending our date early and dropping her off at home so that she could hit the books. She protested in a high-pitched screech the entire ride home, and wouldn’t take my calls for two days afterward until I promised I would never boss her around again.
“I don’t think I can do that, sir. I’d really like to, but in this case, I don’t think there’s anything I can do.” I jumped to my feet, and with one last, lingering glance toward the staircase, I walked to the door. Usually Mr. Cochran walked me out, but he didn’t move this time. I could feel the disapproval radiating from him no matter how many feet separated us. I knew I’d still be feeling it long after I got home. And truth be told, I was more than a little disappointed in myself, too. If I let this girl go, I knew I’d never find one I loved quite as much.
***
Two days later, I was scribbling aimlessly on a yellow notepad while the computer hummed in the background. I didn’t seem to be getting much work done lately. I had a word document open, but only two sentences typed on the page. I’d read them so many times they no longer made sense, but I couldn’t bring myself to erase them. I wasn’t doing very well. I had shadows under my eyes, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered or shaved. I couldn’t believe how much hair had grown on my in face forty-eight hours.
I was pondering whether or not to clean my desk, and running down a mental list of all the reasons why I could put it off until tomorrow when the phone rang. I glanced at it balefully and then did a double take when I saw Sara’s name flashing on the screen. I hurried to pick it up so quickly that I almost dropped it.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” she replied meekly, and hearing her voice sent a tremor of excitement coursing through my body. “How are you? I haven’t heard from you in a little bit.”
“Yeah, um, sorry…work…and stuff.”
“I understand. Would you be interested in maybe grabbing coffee? We could catch up?”
“I’d love to,” I accepted eagerly. “When?”
“Well, I was thinking maybe tomorrow afternoon or—”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Usual place?” The sound of her tinkling laughter was music to my ears.
“Sure. Yeah, that sounds fine.”
My eyes were hungry for the sight of her, so I got to the little café we loved almost as soon as I hung up the phone. She was on time, for once, and I rose as soon as she walked in the door. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing—she looked even prettier than I remembered. Her clothes seemed to hang on her a bit less, and even though she was still painfully thin she seemed relaxed.
“Sara,” I called to her, waving.
She beamed at me as she walked over. “Ethan,” she greeted me, leaning in for a hug. I held her close to me, and her arms came around me. Her embrace felt tentative at first, but it gradually tightened in response to my own
“You look amazing.” I whispered in her ear.
She was smiling when she pulled back, and scrutinized my face. “Thanks. I wish I could say the same, but you look like you could use some sleep,” she teased
I knew that she was seeing the bags under my eyes. I could barely drag myself out of bed in the morning. “Can I order you some coffee? Or, ah, a water?”
She smiled shyly. “Coffee is fine.”
I took her hand in mine and walked to the counter. I noticed that she was looking pretty hard at the display of snacks.
“Can I get a muffin, too?” she asked when I caught her eye. “I’m starving.”
I arched an eyebrow. Was she eating now? What had happened? “Of course. Yeah, that’s fine.”
I was still staring at her in astonishment when she started biting her lip. I knew she only did that when she was worried, and it had the immediate effect of making me want to comfort her. When our order arrived on the counter in front of us, we found a table by the window and sat down to talk. At first, neither of us said anything beyond “how’s your coffee”? We both seemed to be waiting, apprehensive of each other.
“So…” I said, at a loss for words and unable to take my eyes off her. She was twirling a shiny lock of brown hair around her finger, and I wanted to lean across the table and kiss her. I couldn’t believe she was actually here, sitting right in front of me when I thought I’d never see her again. “Thanks for meeting me,” I said at last.
“Oh. Yeah, of course. Thank you for asking me.” There she was, biting her lip again. “I didn’t…I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”
“Really?” My brow furrowed. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, you know, my dad said you stopped by and you left without seeing me, you didn’t call. So I just assumed…”
“Right. Well, ah,” I cleared my throat, not sure how to explain, or if I should. “I just wanted to stop by but he said you were busy, so…”
She blushed a pretty shade of pink. “Right,” she echoed in a whisper.
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to reach across the table and take her hand. The touch of her soft, delicious skin sent a tingle throughout my body. “Hey, don’t. You don’t have to, you know. Be embarrassed.”
If anything, her face turned a deeper shade of pink. “It is embarrassing, Ethan,” she whispered. “I’m ashamed of myself. And I thought…I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore because—” She stopped and shook her head. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“You thought?” I prompted, keeping my voice as gentle as possible.
“I thought you were ashamed of me, too.”
“God, no!” I exclaimed. “I mean, you know, I care a lot about you, Sara.”
She looked up, her eyes shining. “Really?”
“Of course! Sara, I love you.”
She sucked her breath in a gasp, and stared at me with wide eyes.
I could have kicked myself. This wasn’t how I’d wanted the first I love you to go. It should have been special, said over a meal of steak and lobster and wine, not coffee and a half eaten muffin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t?”
“I mean, I did, I do, but,” I shrugged helplessly, “I just wanted it to be romantic.”
Sara burst out laughing, and it was my turn to feel embarrassed.
“So-rry,” I muttered.
“No,” she said, giggling. “It’s just I’m so happy.”
I looked back up at her and saw that her eyes were dancing; her face was glowing with a wide, radiant smile. “Next time I’ll say it over a nice meal, and…” I trailed off, uncertain.
Sara pulled her hand away and wouldn’t look at me. “It’s OK. I’m eating again.”
“You are?” The relief in my voice was palpable.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My dad and I had a, um, talk.”
I nodded, waiting for more, but as usual she was keeping her cards close to the vest.
“You wanna get out of here?” she suggested.
“Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“What about a walk? It’s really nice out.”
I noticed that she’d only eaten half of her muffin, but her coffee was gone and it was more than I’d seen her eat in weeks. “Sure. Let’s go.”
When we walked outside I was sudd
enly struck by how beautiful the day was. The air was warm and crisp, the sky a bright, clear blue. The sun was shining and the leaves even seemed to be greener than usual. It was a nice day, the perfect day for new beginnings.
Sara tucked her arm inside mine and matched her pace to my long strides. “The thing is, Ethan, my dad was pretty upset about my…”
“Diet?” I offered helpfully.
“Yes.” She smiled at me gratefully. “My diet. He said that he thought it had gone on long enough. I guess he’d been trying to talk to me about it for a few weeks, but I wouldn’t listen. That doesn’t go over too well with Daddy.”
I couldn’t help but notice how she winced, but I let it slide by without commenting. I didn’t want to say anything to distract her now that she was finally opening up—I needed to hear the whole story.
“He sat me down the night after you stopped by…he had a steak and a loaded potato and a piece of chocolate cake. He said I wasn’t leaving the table until I ate everything.”
“Did you?” I asked in surprise.
Her expression was rueful. “Not exactly. I have a stubborn streak and sometimes I can be a bit ah, willful, I guess. I refused to eat it.”
I arched an eyebrow at her, and thought of the intense, powerful man I’d sat next to on the couch. I couldn’t imagine that he’d taken her disobedience very well.
“I tried, at first, a few forkfuls. But Daddy insisted I eat everything and I just couldn’t. I begged, and cried, but he wouldn’t let me get up from the table. He was afraid I’d…get rid of it.”
I nodded for her to continue. I didn’t need to hear her say it; I didn’t want her to feel any more embarrassed than she already did. I just felt grateful that she was talking to me again, and letting me in. “What happened?”
She blushed again. “He, uh, handled it.”
I stopped walking and turned toward her. “Meaning?”
Her blush was deepening, and she dropped her eyes. “He punished me.”
My brow crinkled in confusion. “Punished you? For having an eating disorder?” What kind of man does that? I asked myself.