“Eww! They’re gonna kiss!”
You’re not sure which twin said it but the spell is broken.
“Okay, bedtime!” Ben says.
“But we’re not done!” Alana says.
“Ten more minutes, then upstairs to wash up and brush your teeth and get into your pajamas.”
He smiles at you, and you want to melt. He reaches for your thigh under the table and gives it a squeeze. Your desire for this boy grows.
The girls ask your advice on their pictures—“Should Ben’s monkey nose be bigger?” and “How about these hairy feet?”—and then they are done with their pictures and hang their masterpieces on the fridge.
“When are you going to start yours?” Olivia asks you.
“I’ll start while you girls are getting ready for bed. I had to think about it first, but it’ll be here in the morning, so you can see it then.”
Ben takes the girls upstairs and you grab a pencil and a thin black Sharpie and get to work.
Twenty minutes later, as you’re putting the finishing touches on your sketch, Ben calls for you to come upstairs to help tuck the girls into their beds.
“Ooh, I like your jammies!” you tell them when you get to their room.
“Thanks, they’re paisley print!” Olivia says.
“I know.” You laugh.
“That means intricate,” Alana says.
“And beautiful!” Olivia adds.
“I’d agree,” Ben says. He hugs you close to him.
“You two should totally get married,” Olivia exclaims.
“Yes!” Alana shouts from her bed.
“And why is that?” Ben asks, smirking at you.
“Because … just … it would be fun!” Alana giggles.
“Yes, and then we’d have a big sister!” Olivia adds.
“You two are goofballs,” you tell them, pulling blankets up to their necks.
“Is that good or bad?” Alana asks.
“That’s wonderful!” you say. “You guys are my most favorite goofballs I’ve ever known!”
“Well, then, you’re my favoritest goofball too!” Alana says.
“Mine too! I want you to be my favoritest goofball too!” Olivia adds.
“Okay, all three of you are goofballs, and I’m taking this goofball out of here now, so you two goofballs can get some sleep, all right?” Ben says.
“Ben can’t be a goofball because he’s a doofus!” Alana says.
“Good night,” Ben says.
“Night, girls,” you say.
“Wait! Did you finish your picture of Ben?” Olivia asks.
“Yes. You can see it in the morning. Good night.”
“Keep the hall light on!” one of the twins says as you head into the hallway.
Ben says, “I will, but only if you keep quiet and go to sleep. Promise.”
“Promise!” they both chime.
“God,” Ben whispers to you as you both head down the stairs. “That was rough.”
“It was fun,” you say.
“You are a goofball,” he says.
In the kitchen you give him your drawing. You drew it fast, but you can tell Ben’s impressed.
“Wow. It looks just like me. That’s amazing.”
“Thanks.” You feel a little shy from his compliment.
“It’s beautiful. I love it.” Ben takes your hand, tilts his head, and says, “Come on.”
It’s dark in the family room except for the soft glow from the upstairs hall light Ben left on. He leads you to the couch and lays you down and then lies next to you. Neither of you says anything for a long while. He just plays with your hair, touches your face, and looks into your eyes. The house is quiet except for the ticking of the kitchen clock, the hum of the air conditioner, and the sound of your heart beating from within. You can hear that. That’s loud and clear.
You lie like that for a very long time, and then he nuzzles his head into your neck and inhales. He says your name.
“I love spending time with you,” he says. “I love being with you. I love everything about you.”
“Why?”
You’re not fishing for compliments, but you really want to know. Because so often you don’t feel like you’re anything that special or important.
Ben’s quiet for a moment and you’re glad the room is dark, then he speaks.
“Well,” he says, “for one, you have a good heart, and you’re sensitive. You’re not like other girls who only care about themselves, the way they look, or how others perceive them.
“I watch you with my sisters and they already adore you. I mean, you hardly know them and you’re so sweet to them. Two, you make me laugh, I have fun with you. I think you have fun with me. I think we get along really well.” And this is where he stops and kisses you on the bridge of your nose. “You need more?” he asks. “Because I could continue.”
“No, I’m good,” you say. You reach up and run your fingers through his hair, remembering what it was like the first time you saw him on the river, how your breath caught at the sight of him. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Ben asks.
“For making me so happy.”
And then you take advantage of the quiet of the house, the darkness surrounding you, the fact that you and Ben are alone on the couch snuggling, and you kiss him.
27
You’ve heard therapy starts out easy and then gets worse, and you’re seeing firsthand that it’s true. In one-on-one with Shayna, it’s mostly been discussion, but today she’s starting sensory therapy, where she is reintroducing foods to you.
She has brought in a bunch of foods she wants you to describe, including some safe foods. You’ll tell her your anxiety level with each item, what they look like to you, how they feel, which ones smell good, and which ones smell bad.
She shows you mushrooms, chives, beef jerky, eggplant, pineapple, carrots, beets, apples, cabbage, plums, garlic—and other things that you’ve only ever seen at the grocery store, things you’ve never imagined touching or tasting—and asks you to organize them from prettiest to ugliest, and then from best-smelling to worst. Some of it is fun, because some of the things are beautiful, like the smooth, shiny purple-black eggplant whose skin you can practically see your reflection in. Or the prickly pineapple: when you sniff at the bottom, you imagine a tropical island. Those are interesting foods that you have never considered touching or smelling.
Those things are easy for you to do. Because you aren’t tasting the foods. You are just looking, smelling, and touching. That feels safe.
But when Shayna asks you to think about smell and taste together, and to describe that, your brain can’t work that way. You actually like the smell of beef jerky but the idea of putting it into your mouth, of chewing something that is probably thick like a cord, and rubbery … You can’t imagine what that would be like. The thought of eating something as repulsive as beef jerky brings you no comfort. You see no point in putting something that unappealing into your mouth and chewing until you could finally get it down your throat to feed the monster. And you aren’t going to do that.
“I’m not asking you to chew and swallow foods today, unless you feel like you want to?” Shayna says. “If you want to try something, you’re welcome to taste. Maybe put a piece of something into your mouth and see what happens. See if something might surprise you?” she suggests.
It’s the first therapy session since school has started and you’re stressed. You tell Shayna you’re not ready, that you can’t focus on this stuff.
“School has been awful. I didn’t expect Alex to be in two of my classes.”
Shayna knows all about Alex and your hospital trip last year, so she understands your anxiety.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” she says.
You don’t want to talk about this with Shayna right now—it’s been hard enough seeing Alex in English and Spanish every day. But talking about Alex is better than thinking about how beef jerky and plums might taste rolling aroun
d the inside of your mouth.
Still, you don’t say anything immediately.
Shayna nudges you on. “Want to talk about the breakup?”
You think about it.
Then you answer her question.
“I think it was all my fault. I couldn’t do the things a regular girlfriend could do,” you finally say.
“Why not?”
You break down. You know why. Shayna knows why too. It was because you weren’t normal. You aren’t normal.
“I couldn’t go out to dinners, or go to parties. I couldn’t be social. So it was pretty much all my fault that he broke up with me.” You wipe tears from your eyes.
It might not seem like a big deal to regular people. But you know how it feels, and when you can’t eat a normal meal, when you are scared of trying new things, and you feel like you can’t be social because there’s food involved, it suffocates you. You know this now. And you also know you can’t live this way anymore.
But you also know you don’t feel anywhere near ready to try the foods that Shayna has placed before you.
“And I can’t eat this stuff you want me to eat—obviously not today—and I don’t know when I might be able to. Shit, I can’t even eat a regular piece of pizza with cheese with Ben. I have to take the cheese off it.”
You’re still crying, hard, desperate tears, and Shayna watches you, lets you cry. Because that’s part of her job, to let you get the tears out. Then she hands you a box of tissues, letting you know the cryfest is just about over.
You take the tissues and blow your nose.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Do what?” Shayna asks.
“I don’t think I can get better.”
Shayna says nothing, which is another thing you’ve learned that therapists do: they don’t have to say a lot and they get paid a ton of money. She’ll sit and wait until you feel like talking more.
“It’s like, I want to get better, but I’m afraid.”
Nod.
“I feel like I don’t know how to get better. I don’t want to eat these foods you’re showing me. Like ever.”
Another nod.
“I feel like these foods aren’t going to cure me. How is eating a mushroom going to make me more social?”
Another nod.
“And this has nothing to do with food, but I’m so stressed. School is hard. Therapy is hard. My parents stress me out.”
“The stress and anxiety you’re experiencing have everything to do with having ARFID. When you learn to eat, even if it’s just a few new foods, you’ll be more comfortable, and you’ll become more social, which will alleviate stress and anxiety.”
You think about this, then you switch gears. “The only thing I have going for me is Ben and since school started I’ve only seen him once.”
You realize that sounds tragic, like a Romeo and Juliet saga, but still, you’re afraid that you’re not going to see Ben as much as you want to, and he’s the only one who keeps you sane. He’s the only one who seems to keep the monster at a lull.
28
How about I pick you up after school?
It’s Wednesday morning and you’re on the bus and you feel your whole face light up when you read the text from Ben.
Of course!
OK, 2:30 by the front doors?
Sounds good.
See you then XO
XO ☺
This is the first time you’ve XO’ed him back and it definitely feels like a shift in your relationship. You’re absolutely giddy over this and you’ve never had a better day at school. Sure, you’ve only been in school for a week but all you think about is how your boyfriend is coming to get you after school. You completely ignore Alex’s stares in English and in Spanish and the day goes by surprisingly fast.
At two-twenty, you say goodbye to Jae and make your way to the front of the school. As you wait, you busy yourself checking out the latest from the infamous Instagrammers. Yep, they’re still there, posting selfies in sports bras and Nike workout shorts, looking slutty as usual. You wonder if their moms have any clue about the pictures they post and the comments they get.
Next, you check Todd’s Twitter feed to see what he’s been up to because that’s the only connection you have to your brother and his life. You see he’s really pumped for Friday night’s football game and he’s encouraging everyone to go support the team. He’s got seventy-six retweets.
You check the time on your phone and wonder where Ben is. There’s no text from him and you start to worry because it’s two-forty-five now and practically everyone is gone from school. Only you and a couple of other kids are waiting for rides. You text Ben:
You almost here?
When there is no answer by three o’clock you become frantic, thinking he’s been in a car accident and he’s dead. Just what you need: a dead boyfriend you haven’t even had the chance to tell that you love. A couple of kids on skateboards whiz by, nearly taking you out, and they say, “Whoa, sorry dude,” as they continue past. You’re near tears by this point, sure that Ben is dead.
At three-ten you get a text:
Got caught up but I’m on my way!
Through tears you send him a text that you’re already home, saying you got a ride with Todd. Now you wish he was dead, because you want to kill him.
* * *
You walk to the football field where Todd is practicing with the team. The aluminum bleachers are so hot you burn the backs of your thighs when you sit. You don’t want to wait for Todd but you don’t have any other way home and you don’t want to call your mom. The sun beats down on you so hard you feel dizzy, and beads of sweat form on your upper lip, but you wait.
When the football coach blows his whistle signaling practice is over, you walk toward the turf and the players, and your brother catches your eye.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“Can I get a ride?”
“Sure,” he says, as he pulls his helmet from his sweaty head. He smells like dirt and stink and it’s weird because this is your brother but you hardly know him. You both walk in silence to the parking lot where he gets into the car and unlocks it for you from the inside.
Instead of putting on the air conditioner, Todd rolls down the front windows and sticks his forearm out of the car. It’s too hot for the car windows to be open, and the stench of him is repulsive but you can’t complain because he’s giving you a ride home. You swallow down the bile that’s building in your throat.
“Did you miss the bus or just want to watch me in action?” he asks.
“Ben was supposed to pick me up.”
“He blew you off? Knew he was a dick.”
You turn your head toward your open window and say nothing more.
* * *
You go straight to your room. Ben has let you down. He offered to do something nice for you, and then he let you down. And thought nothing of it. He got “caught up” but was on his way? You’re that important to him and that’s all he could say? No I’m sorry I’m late? You’re so upset.
All evening you hear texts and calls coming through, but you don’t look at your phone. The monster is fuming. Sometimes you can’t tell if it’s you or the monster who’s angry, or if you’re fusing into the same being. It’s becoming more and more difficult. One minute, you’re the happiest you’ve ever felt—when Ben texted you that morning, offering to get you after school—and now? Now you feel so let down.
You want to quit everything.
You shut off your phone for the night and you and your monster go to sleep.
29
At lunch the next day you tell Jae and Mandi what happened.
“Ben totally blew me off after telling me he would pick me up. I thought he was dead and when he said he was on his way, it was like no big deal that he was almost forty-five minutes late. Like he didn’t even care that I waited for him for so long.”
“There’s got to be a valid reason. He wouldn’t purposely make you wait,”
Jae says. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Yeah, you really are being crazy over this,” Mandi says.
It’s totally okay for Jae to tell you that you’re being ridiculous, but when Mandi calls you crazy, you glare at her. She hardly knows you, so who’s she to say if you’re crazy or not, although you think you are crazy these days.
“What’d he say today?” Jae asks as she takes a bite of a meaty sandwich that makes you want to barf.
“I don’t know. I haven’t turned my phone back on.”
“Do you or do you not want to be with him?” Jae asks.
You sigh, a deep, heavy, sad sigh. “I do. So badly.”
“Give me the damn phone.” Jae holds out her hand.
You give her the phone, afraid of what she’s going to find. When she turns it on, it almost sounds as if it’s exploding because there are so many chimes going off—beep after beep after beep, and you’re sure they’re all from Ben.
“Twenty-six messages, you idiot. Twenty-six.”
Jae starts typing immediately.
“What are you doing?!” you yell.
“Fixing this.” Jae sends a message and in a matter of seconds there’s a response. She texts back and forth a few times with Ben and when she’s done, she tells you, “I told Ben it was me texting from your phone. He had to stay after school yesterday because the track coach wanted to talk to him. He said he tried to tell you that yesterday, but you didn’t read his texts or answer his calls.”
You don’t know what to say.
“He’s going to meet you out front after school,” Jae says, and then: “You better not blow this with him. You should have let him explain and apologize. You owe him an apology too.”
You thank Jae and tell her you’re sorry for being so stupid.
“Tell him that,” she says.
* * *
After school, you head out the main doors and Ben’s waiting for you, holding a bouquet of baby-white carnations. You walk over to him, feeling shy and embarrassed about your behavior.
When you reach him, you both start to say something, so then you laugh and he hands you the flowers.
“Someone told me these are your favorite,” he says.
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