Sad Perfect

by Stephanie Elliot

  “Mom, I’m totally doing therapy. And the only time I feel good is when I’m with Ben. He makes me happy. He makes me not think about the food crap, all the stuff that bothers me.”

  “I’m just thinking about what happened last time,” your mother clucks. She actually clucks like a chicken when she says this.

  “This is not like with Alex,” you say. “Nothing like how it was with Alex.”

  “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

  * * *

  The two of you go to the movies and you beg Ben to let you pay since it’s his birthday, but he refuses. “I asked you to come with me. I’m paying.” He grabs you by the hand and kisses you full on the lips. You literally cannot believe how charming this boy is. You snuggle and kiss during the movie and only partially watch because there’s nothing else you’d rather do (well, maybe, but you’re in a movie theater). Near the end you whisper in Ben’s ear, “Happy birthday.”

  He whispers back to you, “It’s my happiest one yet.” And he pulls you closer.

  You feel so lucky to have met him.

  When the movie is over Ben announces that he’s starving and asks you what you feel like eating. The monster snickers.

  “I don’t care.”

  “You feel like pizza, Chinese, Mexican?” he asks.

  You figure you can fake your way through pizza so you say pizza sounds good. You’re starting to feel really anxious and try to remember some of the skills you’ve been learning in therapy but your mind goes blank. You feel a physical shift in your system when you walk into Angelino’s Pizza and smell the strong odor of garlic. It doesn’t seem to help that Ben is holding your hand when the hostess leads you to a cozy booth near the back.

  Ben senses your mood has changed and asks if you’re okay. You want to be okay. It’s his birthday. You don’t want to ruin this night for him, so you lie and say you just have a little stomachache.

  “Do you want to leave?” he asks, but you can tell he is disappointed.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” you say.

  You want so badly to be fine. You want so badly to be good for Ben. You want so badly to be good for yourself. You need to do this. This is just another one of the steps you have to take. And it’s only pizza. You can usually do pizza, minus the cheese.

  The waitress comes over and you both ask for Sprite. She leaves to get your drinks and Ben asks if you know what you want to eat.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What kind of pizza do you like?”

  “Usually just plain.”

  “What if we did half cheese and half sausage?”

  “That’s okay,” you say.

  When the waitress comes back, Ben orders the pizza.

  “You okay?” he asks again.

  “I’ll be fine.” Then you remember the gifts in your purse, so you tell him that you’ve got something for him and his eyes light up. You pull out the envelopes with the tickets and gift card and the small package that has the key chain in it. You also got him a card. He opens the movie tickets first.

  “We could have used those tonight,” you say.

  “We can use them another time,” he says, smiling widely at you. Next he opens the Nike gift card. You tell him it’s not much but maybe he can buy a T-shirt or some new socks for when track starts.

  “And this one”—you push the small package toward him—“is kind of a joke.”

  He opens the key chain and cracks up. It’s got a goofy quote from the movie on it, one that you both had laughed at when you watched it together.

  “I love it!” he says, and you believe him because he adds it to his keys right away and comes over to your side of the booth and gives you a kiss.

  You kiss him back and it doesn’t even feel weird to kiss him in public. You want to take a picture of the two of you because you don’t have one of him yet so you pull out your phone and hand it to him.

  “I want a picture,” you say.

  “Oh, you do, do you?” He’s grinning like crazy.

  “I do.”

  “I guess we could do that.” He clicks on the camera on your phone, turns it in his direction, and starts clicking pictures of himself making silly faces. He takes a dozen or more pictures. You grab your phone from him.

  “No! One of us!”

  “Oh … you want a picture of the two of us? You should have specified. I need your phone back then.”

  You hand him your phone and he pulls you to him tightly, holding you low around your waist. “You smiling?” he asks.

  “Duh,” you say. “I’m with you, of course I’m smiling.”

  “Right answer.”

  Ben clicks the camera at your faces. He moves it in a bunch of different directions as he tells you what to do: “Silly face. Dramatic. Sad. Now kiss me! Kiss me again! Pouty! Angry. Kiss me again!” He sets the phone down and puts both arms around you.

  “Kiss me again! It’s my birthday.”

  You push him away. “You’re nuts!”

  “Nuts about you,” he says.

  You scroll through the pictures together, choosing the best one to put on Instagram. “Hashtag it ‘AwesomestCoupleEver,’” Ben says.

  The drinks and the pizza come and the waitress sets everything down. Ben plants one more kiss on your lips before moving back to the other side of the booth. You’re not sure how you’re going to manage to eat a piece of cheese pizza without the cheese on it. But it turns out to be okay, because Ben talks about how sweet the gifts are and how much he appreciates you, and he says that you didn’t have to get him anything, he’s just happy that you’re here. He eats three pieces of sausage pizza and you eat one piece of plain pizza but you scrape off the cheese and he either doesn’t notice or is so kind he doesn’t ask why you did that.

  There’s one more thing you have for him, and while it’s not really a gift, this is the thing that, when you give it to him, you’re baring your soul. You pull out an orange soda from your purse.

  “For you,” you say.

  “You got me a Crush soda?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  He furrows his brow like he doesn’t quite understand. Suddenly you’re embarrassed: you thought this would be cute and funny, but now you actually have to spell it out for him when the writing is literally right on the can.

  “Because, duh,” you say, “I have a crush … on you.”

  “Ohhhh. I get it now.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  He smiles big at you and you grin back, feeling stupid and goofy and so very happy. Like you always feel when you’re with Ben.

  22

  Ben picks you up on Sunday afternoon, the last Sunday of summer break. You’re nervous about meeting his family, but also excited—he’s mentioned his little sisters, nine-year-old twins—and he keeps saying how much they’ll like you. You’re also scared about the food part of the evening, and when you asked him about dinner, Ben said it would be casual, so you didn’t say anything else. You can’t believe you haven’t told him yet. Jae was right. You should have talked to him about your problem by now. The monster chuckles quietly, deep within.

  The first thing you notice is Ben’s house is loud and full of activity. Music is blaring through speakers, and their puppy barks at you and nips at your ankles. You lean down and scratch the puppy’s ears. Ben pushes the pup away from you, saying, “No, Earl,” and you laugh. Because the puppy’s cute and because Earl is a crazy name for a dog.

  The atmosphere is different than at your house, than with your family. Your house is always full of quiet anticipation and stress. Just you, your mom (who’s always filling up her wineglass), your dad watching ESPN, Todd with his earbuds shoved into his ears, and then the monster. There’s always the monster—whether he’s quiet or not, you know he’s still around.

  Ben’s mom greets you at the front door with a huge smile and gives you a hug, which surprises you. Your
family doesn’t hug. You stand with your arms at your sides as she pulls you close.

  “Hello! Welcome!”

  “Hi,” you say shyly.

  “We’re so glad you could come over. Ben has been talking nonstop about you since you guys met.”

  “God, Mom. Embarrass me much,” he says. Then he reaches for your wrist, lightly pulling you away from his mom and says, “Let’s go meet my sisters.”

  His sisters and his dad are outside. The girls are in the pool, but when they see you and Ben, they scurry out and come over to you, each vying for your attention, and they get you a little wet.

  “Hi!” one says.

  “Hi!” says the other.

  They are identical except they have different swimsuits on and while they both have long, sopping wet hair, one twin’s hair is a little shorter.

  “I’m Olivia!” says the one with longer hair.

  “I’m Alana!” says the one with shorter hair.

  “Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” Ben says.

  Alana sticks her tongue out at Ben.

  “Are you Ben’s girlfriend?” Olivia asks.

  “Yeah, are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?” Alana asks.

  You laugh it off and change the subject. “What grade are you guys in?”

  “We’re going into fourth grade!”

  “That’s awesome,” you say.

  “Are you eating dinner here?” Olivia asks.

  “Yep, I am,” you say.

  “Will you sit by me?” Alana asks.

  “No! I want her to sit by me!” Olivia shouts.

  “Hey, she can sit by everyone,” Ben says.

  They both pull at your hands and look at your bracelets. “Can I try this on?” Olivia asks about the gold braided bracelet on your left wrist.

  “Sure.” You take it off but Ben grabs it before you can give it to his sister.

  “Not now, you’re soaking wet.” He hands the bracelet back to you.

  “You’re mean!” Olivia shouts.

  “Yeah, Ben,” you say. “You’re mean.” And you laugh.

  “Hey, can I braid your hair later when it dries?” you ask the girls.

  “Yes!” they yell in unison.

  “I can do awesome French braids, if you like.”

  “Yay!” they scream together, and jump up and down.

  Ben rolls his eyes. “Come on, I know my dad wants to meet you.”

  The girls cannonball back into the deep end of the pool, screeching in delight.

  “Okay, you totally won them over,” Ben says.

  “I think they’re adorable,” you say.

  “I think you’re adorable,” Ben says, and he kisses you on the forehead.

  One of the twins yells from the pool, “Ewww, Ben just kissed her!”

  “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” the other twin shouts.

  Ben’s dad turns his head from the grill as you both approach him.

  “Welcome to the humble abode!” he says, smoke clouding his face. He waves it away with a hand towel.

  “This is Dad,” Ben says.

  “Call me Dan. How do you like your burgers?” he asks you.

  The monster growls inside and your body feels as if it might go numb right there on the pool deck.

  But you’ve been feeling so good lately, you push him back down and try to remember some of the skills you’ve learned at therapy. You smile at Mr. Hansworth.

  “I’m trying out a vegetarian diet these days,” you say.

  “Hey, no problem! I’m sure Kathy’s got some veggies in there we can round up for you! Nothing to worry about. We’re just happy you’re here and you’re keeping Ben out of trouble.” He smiles kindly at you. “You kids run along and go do whatever it is teens do these days.”

  “Thanks Dad,” Ben says.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hansworth.”

  “Dan,” he says. “Please, call me Dan!”

  Ben turns you toward the house and you start walking to the sliding glass door. “You didn’t tell me you were a vegetarian,” he says.

  “Is that a deal breaker?” you joke.

  He laughs. “No way. You should have told me when we got pizza the other night. I wouldn’t have gotten sausage on it.”

  “Well, there’s more I should probably tell you, and I probably should have told you sooner,” you say. “Like. I don’t eat much.”

  “What do you mean?”

  You’ve made it inside the house and fortunately his mom is busy in the kitchen. You take a seat in the living room together.

  “I’m in therapy for an eating disorder,” you admit. It feels scary to tell Ben this, but it also feels important because he’s someone special and you’re going to need his support. You’re mad at yourself for waiting until it’s five minutes before you’re supposed to sit down with his family for dinner for the first time.

  “So can you eat? Do you like, throw up and stuff?” He doesn’t ask to be unkind; you can tell he truly doesn’t know what it means to have an eating disorder.

  “No. It’s not like bulimia. That’s the throwing-up disorder. And I don’t have anorexia, although you could consider me borderline, because I guess if I don’t eat enough to keep healthy it could get bad. That’s why I’m in therapy. I go every Monday—to one-on-one therapy and also group therapy. To try to change my eating habits and behavior.”

  “But … and don’t take this the wrong way … you look great,” he says.

  God, you love this guy. You’re so grateful for him. How can he be this amazing and wonderful and … and you just want to put your arms around him right this second and hug him because he’s looking at you with such concern, like he really wants to understand what’s going on. He’s really listening to you.

  “I have what’s called ARFID. It’s a disorder where I’m sensitive to foods, and avoid a lot of things and restrict foods that are not familiar to me. I’m really scared of trying anything new. Like I’ll gag and practically vomit when I try a new food. So I’m in therapy to learn to like food.”

  “What can you eat? What do you eat?”

  “I should have told you all this before you invited me to dinner. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll tell my mom. Come with me,” he says. He pulls you up from the couch and takes you into his arms and holds you for a few seconds. “Don’t worry. My mom will understand.”

  He grabs your hand and you follow him into the kitchen, where his mom is prepping a salad. “Mom, what’s for dinner exactly?”

  “Well, Dad’s making burgers, and I’m making a salad. We’re also having chips and some fruit. What’s up? Do we have a food allergy?” She looks at you.

  “Um, I…” You look to Ben for help.

  He puts his arm around your waist. It feels very protective and loving. And it gives you the confidence you need: “I’m in therapy for an eating disorder and not too many people know. I just told Ben.”

  “Oh honey!” She reaches for you and gives you a hug and you burst into tears, right in their kitchen. They are tears of relief and sad tears too. It feels good to cry. Ben’s mom rubs your back and tells you that it’s okay to cry and you’re very brave and you should be very proud of yourself for sharing that with her because she is sure it was a hard thing for you to do. You’re sniffling on her shirt and then you laugh because now you feel silly about the whole thing so you pull away and wipe your eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” you say.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ben’s mom says. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be,” she says. “But let’s see, what can you have?”

  You give her the quick definition of ARFID and between the three of you, you decide you can have a peanut butter sandwich, an apple, and some chips for dinner. All the tears are dried up when Dan, Alana, and Olivia come in.

  You end up sitting in between the twins at dinner so you don’t even get to sit by Ben, which is a bummer, but fortunately, Ben’s mom go
t to Mr. Hansworth—Dan—before dinner was served so he is clued in to what’s going on. But of course, once the girls see that you get to eat a peanut butter sandwich, they also want one. Mrs. Hansworth is so nice, she makes them sandwiches too. And Dan is so cool, he says, “Hey, this just means more burgers for Ben and me!”

  After dinner, Mrs. Hansworth brings out a chocolate cream cake and lights the candles for Ben. “I can’t believe my son is seventeen!”

  “You’re old!” Alana says.

  “You should get married now, you’re so old!” Olivia adds. “Hey, you two should get married!”

  There is laughter and an off-key round of “Happy Birthday” and you all eat cake. Cake is never a problem with the monster.

  Afterward, everyone sits in the family room and watches a Disney princess movie that you’ve never seen, but Ben has and he knows all the songs and actually sings them with his little sisters, which is the most precious thing you have ever witnessed. You are amazed at how incredible his family is. You thought you were falling in love with him, and then to meet his whole family and see how awesome they are, well, you are in it deep now.

  You braid the girls’ hair as you promised, and they take turns brushing your hair. Ben says he wants a turn so he sits on the couch and you sit on the floor between his knees and he runs the brush through your hair gently. Your back is against the couch, and you take your hands and put your fingers under the soles of his socked feet, which are toasty warm. He presses down on your fingertips lightly with his toes, and then he squeezes his thighs against your shoulders. He’s still brushing your hair and it feels like something wonderful. The girls are snuggled up near you on the floor—Alana’s head is in your lap and Olivia is curled up next to you on the other side with a pillow and a blanket. You let them play with your bracelets and you’ve never felt so comfortable and relaxed with a family, not even your own.

  About halfway through a second movie, Ben’s parents tell the girls it’s time for bed so the twins hug you and ask if you’ll come over again.

  “Do you think Ben will invite me back?” you ask them.

  Olivia says, “He better or we’ll kill him!” and Alana says, “You’re the best girl he’s ever invited!”