Compose

by Lily Kay

  “Take your friend Sierra. I don’t think she meant to be rude, but I don’t know, can’t I be an American? I’m certain most Caucasians get to say they’re American and no one asks for a breakdown of their European roots. But you’re right, I did grow up having pride in my heritage, and it sucks you didn’t.”

  I stuck my tongue out to lighten the mood. Another avoidance coping mechanism because this type of come to Jesus moment exposed me a little too much.

  “Deep down I think I’d like to go to Korea, but I don’t think I’m brave enough to do it yet. It’s going to take some time,” I finally said.

  Messing the noodles around the plate with my chopsticks, I silently admitted a little curiosity about Korea on some level. I was scared because it left me vulnerable. Left me questioning whether I’d have the strength to breathe when abandonment’s mangled vines squeezed too tight.

  Once punishing seeds of doubt seeped through, my confidence faded. I was petrified Gavin might turn me away if my body failed to be beautiful enough, thin enough. The rejection would be the end of me.

  My lids shut, fighting the reality a relationship with Gavin would only end in catastrophe. Of course, it didn’t stop me from spending time with him. I finally understood the saying about being addicted to someone, and I imagined this was what heroine did to people. Giddiness followed by a hollowness, a yearning for more when he was absent.

  Nothing could come of us long-term. Still, I focused on enjoying my first real date with him.

  Chapter 14

  “You ready for dessert?”

  Shit shit shit. How did I eat dessert when the idea made me want to vomit?

  “Louie?”

  The air seemed to gain massive weight, like my lungs were about to be crushed.

  Shit, not dessert. Not. Dessert. Too many calories. Can’t eat any more calories because he’d think I subsisted on sugar fat, and he’d never want to touch me again. Breathing air became more difficult as the room became a black hole.

  Naturally, one of my earliest sessions with Dr. Liz slapped me out of my self-induced panic attack.

  “Louise, why the eating disorder?” Dr. Liz asked.

  “I don’t know. Because I’m fat and ugly and no boys will want to ever touch me when I’m fat and ugly.”

  “And there it is. You don’t want to be touched.”

  “No, I do. I want to have a boyfriend. Guys don’t find me attractive because I have ugly eyes and I’m fat.”

  “I can sit here all day and tell you your eyes are beautiful and you’re not fat. Fat and ugly are shields you’re using to hide something else. And you know what it is.”

  “Isn’t your job to tell me why I’m all fucked up?” Take that, Dr. Liz.

  “You’re not fucked up. But you are in pain. And I’m pretty certain you know why.”

  I rolled my eyes at her.

  “Fine. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want a man to ever harass me again. And if I never fall in love, no one can abandon me once they realize I’m not good enough. There, are you fucking happy?” A wet streak formed down my cheek.

  “This has nothing to do with my happiness, Louise, and everything to do with yours. If we’re going to work together and have a shot at being successful, you’ll have to make a commitment to be truthful with me, and more importantly, you.”

  What the hell was wrong with me? I had to buck up and eat the stupid dessert.

  I inhaled one more time, for good measure. “What kind of dessert?”

  “Flourless chocolate cake I made earlier today, and whipped cream if you like.” Gavin removed a bowl of homemade whipping cream from the fridge.

  Fifty-five calories and five grams of fat for two tablespoons of whipped cream. I hadn’t even added in the fucking cake. Knowing me I wouldn’t be able to stop at two tablespoons.

  Shit, shit, shit, shitty fuckity shit.

  There’s too many calories. Too many grams of fat. I can’t eat it. Couldn’t he see that? If I ate it, it would make me fat, and I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t. Despite my Dr. Liz memory, the crazy won out.

  “No way you’re forcing me to have any of”—my head shook back and forth, and I pointed at the offending dessert―“that.”

  “Lou?”

  “Forget it, you can’t make me. You can’t make me eat it. I won’t eat it. I won’t.” A layer of moisture coated my skin, making me shiver, as a drop rolled from my hairline down my cheek.

  “Okay, you don’t have to eat it.” He surrendered his arms in the air as if I had a gun pointed at his chest.

  I covered my face and squeezed my eyes tight, expunging the old tapes manifesting through my tangled brain. Wiping away a bead of sweat made me even more self-conscious with Gavin watching this whole freak-out, judging me.

  I’m sure he thought me a psycho, though I worked too hard to relapse back into those destructive behaviors. I breathed deep and exhaled out loud, steadying my voice.

  “Okay, I’ll try it. Dr. Liz would want me to try it, I’ll try it. I can do it, I’ll eat the fucking piss ass cake,” I mustered.

  “I’m not going to be offended if you don’t like flourless chocolate cake. I can put it in the fridge and eat it later.” He stood in the kitchen behind the counter, cake and whipped cream in tow.

  I slumped down into the chair and caved my body inward because I let the purple crazy little people take over. My first official food mental break down, and it had to be in front of Gavin. Though I didn’t know what he thought regarding my melt down, I recognized it wasn’t good.

  Stupid stupid Louise.

  I grimaced. What else could I do? What could I possibly say to recover?

  Hey, Gavin, I’ve almost made it back to the land of the sane, but I keep running into detours, whoops?

  I sighed. Pretty loud and long. Because sighing didn’t hurt the ears as much as shrieking.

  I lowered my voice to try and steady my nerves. “It’s me, not you. Your cake is probably delicious, and I can eat a piece no problem.” I had a little discussion with my brain about getting my shit together, maybe have a do-over?

  “There something you want to tell me? Why you’re wigging out over cake?”

  Naturally, I thought, yes, I can have a do-over. I had an excellent excuse, and he’d understand, and we could try this all over again. Where I would scarf down this delicious cake, followed by us going back to his bedroom to continue my new adventures in kissing.

  And then I thought, Oh Louie. If he found out you were in the mental ward because you refused to eat? Things were not going down the way you thought they would.

  He’d find out eventually, though. Matt or Nick might say something to Gavin, and if he found out from them instead of me? Zero points in the trust category.

  Might as well get the ugly over with. He’d already seen my craptastic way of coping with stress around food. Too bad this didn’t happen in front of Nick or Matt. They’d tell me to eat the fucking cake, and case closed. No more food freak out.

  “Right. You just witnessed a major glitch in my road to recovery.”

  “Your road to recovery?”

  “Yeeaaahhh.” Under the table, Swanson rubbed his head against my leg. “Hey, Swanson. You’re a good dog. You’re adorable, such a good dog. Wooof, wooooof, wooo—”

  “Swanson, crate!” Gavin’s stare pinned me paralyzed. I peeled my eyes as Swanson waddled away, leaving me to fend for myself. Traitorous Swanson.

  “Now that Swanson’s no longer a diversion, you mind telling me what’s going on?” He strolled back to the table and set the dessert down.

  Maybe if I said it super-fast, he would gloss over it and we’d fall back into normal? “I enrolled in an eating disorders clinic, both in-and out-patient, for six weeks. I’ve been in recovery now for
three months. Yay?”

  I waited, seeing how things would settle. I didn’t think I said it too fast, though I’m sure he heard. But he remained stoic, worrying me even more.

  “What, were you anorexic? Bulimic?”

  “Mostly bulimic but I used anorexia to purge when I binged.”

  “You threw up and shit?” He rubbed the back of his head, a tell he had when deep in thought.

  “Shit, yes. Throw up, no.” So not getting any sexy time after this conversation.

  “I took laxatives. I didn’t know how to throw up. I would binge on anything from French fries to rice cakes. And then I’d feel like crap and try to get rid of it. But I flunked Barfing 101. Laxatives were my poison, along with over-exercising, and your basic starvation.”

  “Were you overweight at all?” His hands clasped together on the table now, his chest hovering closer to the table top.

  “Technically? No. But in my head, yes. It’s like those warped circus mirrors. Even though I wore a size zero back then, I couldn’t see my own image. Intellectually, I comprehended I wore a small size, but I still saw fat anytime I passed a mirror.” How many more questions could I take? At this point, I wanted to eat the cake and leave.

  “You know you’re not fat though, right?” The cross-examination maintained its course.

  “Intellectually, yes. But at the time, I couldn’t see it. But I’m fine, now. I haven’t had a freak-out in a couple months and am kicking myself it happened. All this talk about me being Korean or not kinda threw me for a loop and my eating disorder remained loyal for many years. Some habits are hard to break, you know? But I’m good. I’d love to have a restart button and try dessert over again?” I laid my palms flat on the table and lifted one side of my mouth, hoping he understood the pleading in my eyes.

  He sat still for a while. Too long. Okay, maybe it was only ten seconds, but it felt like minutes. He stroked his chin and grinned. “You bet. Let’s try a do-over.”

  Gavin stood up, stacked our dishes, and placed them in the sink. He pulled out two dessert plates, spoons, and a serving knife. He inched toward the table. “Lou, would you like some flourless chocolate cake? I can serve it ala mode with vanilla ice cream or homemade whipped cream.”

  I smiled, grateful he didn’t probe anymore. “Why yes, Gavin. Flourless chocolate cake sounds scrumptious.”

  “Scrumptious?” His brows lifted.

  “Uh, delicious?”

  “Scrumptious is fine. I’m teasing, you know.”

  “Well, give me some of your scrumptious whipped cream while you’re at it.”

  Gavin sliced the cake and aromas of chocolate seeped into my skin. He placed the plate in front of me after adding a dollop of cream on top of the piece. “Some scrumptious flourless chocolate cake with some scrumptious whipped cream.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, kind sir.” Gavin cut himself a slice and piled the whipped cream on top.

  He sat down. “You doing okay?”

  I took a bite and about creamed my pants. “Holy shit, this is amazing.” Smooth, rich, chocolaty goodness, combined with whipped cream melted in my mouth. Hard to believe I almost turned this down. Internally, I chastised myself. Self? Don’t forget how awesome food can taste before you have another freak out. I didn’t say anything else to him until my fork scraped against an empty plate.

  “There’s more if you want some.”

  “Maybe another little slice?” Dr. Liz would be proud. Hell, I was proud.

  Gavin sliced me another piece about half the size of the first. With a little more whipped cream, I transported to dessert heaven. Gavin eyed me as I consumed more of the cake, assessing my next move. No doubt I’d have to explain.

  “Um, yeah, about my freak out. I haven’t had one since pre-hospital. Matt, Nick, Sierra, and Emmy have dubbed them CLD, for Crazy-Louie Days. Usually when I’m starting to get weird around food, they order me to eat it and change topics and it usually does the trick. Feel free to do the same if I start spazzing out again.” I wish I had magical powers at this moment and could erase the crazy food freak-out he witnessed.

  “So, what, demand you eat it?” Gavin asked.

  “Something like, ‘Louie, eat the effing dessert, and quit obsessing.’”

  “I can do that.” Gavin nodded. “I’m glad you told me what’s going on. No one’s ever described my flourless chocolate cake as repulsive.”

  I cherished my final bite. “It’s awesome actually. Matty would totally love this recipe. Actually, maybe you shouldn’t give it to him after all.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’ll probably use it to get the professor in bed.” Did Nick tell Gavin about Matt yet? Too late now if he didn’t.

  “No shit, serious?” This info peaked Gavin’s interest.

  “Yeah, he’s having an affair with his advisor. Mega-unethical but whatever. He likes to bake for her and do bizarre sexual things with dessert, and no, I have no idea what he does, and please don’t ever ask him when I’m in hearing distance.” I scrubbed my face, erasing any unwanted images of Matt, his advisor, and food.

  “You’re against using food during sex?” A smile crept across his face.

  “What? No. I mean. I don’t know. I don’t wanna hear about Matty, is all. He’s like a brother to me, and the image of him and his advisor? Yuck.”

  “Well, good to know you haven’t taken food off the table. Some of it can be fun, depending on the mood.” He lifted our dessert plates and deposited them in the sink.

  I froze, giving myself whiplash as I fought between the fear of Gavin seeing me naked versus my raging hormones reenacting events from my romance novels. I was twenty for frick’s sake. Definitely up there in terms of percentage of women who were still virgins.

  “I can tell you’re over-analyzing again.” His voice resonated over the flow of water in the sink.

  “You can?”

  “I can. You wear your emotions on your sleeve. It’s pretty obvious.”

  “Is that good or bad?” I grabbed the remaining Japchae and brought it to the counter.

  “Good, I think. Would be even better if you told me what you were thinking. I’m not a mind-reader, ya know.”

  “Yeah, I’m new at this.” In other words, I didn’t want to scare him away.

  “Communication is key for me. Over-sharing isn’t going to scare me away.”

  And there he goes reading my mind again. Creepy.

  “The only way you could scare me away is if you shut me out and refuse to share.” He opened a lower cabinet and pulled out some Tupperware.

  “It’s not like you’re exactly an open book.” I emptied the remainder of Japchae in some glass Tupperware.

  “I’ve been nothing but honest with you.” The water stopped, and Gavin leaned against the counter, assessing me.

  My ass. Like, I didn’t have to ask about his top-secret date.

  “What were you doing last night?”

  Gavin squeezed the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “Lou, I told you, I had an appointment.”

  “With a blondish-haired lady-friend? Is this the ‘friend’ who’s been calling?”

  Gavin held my glare.

  “I can’t tell you who she is.”

  “Obviously I can’t meet her. What is she, a secret mistress or something? Are you having an affair with a professor?” Okay, what a dumb and insecure thing to say.

  Gavin refused to respond, which did not leave me feeling warm and fuzzy.

  “Well, you both seemed to be having a jolly ole time last night at dinner.”

  “Were you following me?” The accusation mortified me, highlighting my jealous behavior. Maybe not my shining moment.

  “No. Sierra and Emmy took me out to dinner last night, and we happened to se
e you there. If you didn’t want to be seen with her, maybe you should’ve picked a more secluded place to eat.” But cryptic-boy prevented me from meeting her. Totally effed up.

  “Look, Lou. You have to believe I’m telling the truth when I say I have zero love interest for her. None at all.”

  Based on his body language, he silently pleaded for me to trust him. But jealousy was an ugly beast, and while I hated how it resided in my brain, I wondered about mystery-girl, and why she had his loyalty. I’m sure she kept calling him on the phone. Continuing to probe would only increase the tension, and he’d shut down. There were questions I might be able to ask another time. But not now. We were too on edge.

  I fused my lips together and nodded once. “Fine.” I paused to bite my lower lip. “I’m feeling a little insecure.” Did I overshare? “And it’s not fair to you because I know we’re not officially together yet, but I’m not feeling very confident when I think I might have to compete with a prior girlfriend of yours.”

  Too much? He did say he wanted me to communicate. Here’s seeing if he meant what he said.

  Stepping toward me, he captured my hands. I became a little self-conscious noting how damp my palms were despite the running air conditioning. His were soft, the pads of his thumbs running over the tops of mine and sending micro jolts of chills through my body. The electric jolts made my insides gooey, and my head light. Making me forget he had dinner with another woman. At least temporarily.

  “Hey,” he said softly, “it’s nothing like that. The only female I want to be in a relationship with is right in front of me.” He pressed his lips against my forehead and nodded to the living room. “Let’s go sit down. We can watch a movie, or chat on the couch.”

  We finished discussing his “date.” For now, at least. I exhaled, feeling the air brush past my forehead. “A movie it is. Do you have any popcorn and real butter?”