The Disappearing Girl

by Heather Topham Wood

  “I think it’s really cute how excited you’re getting about my car,” he joked.

  Leaning toward me, he caressed my cheek with his thumb. I tilted toward him and pressed my lips against his. I set the rhythm of the kiss, starting out slow, leisurely exploring every bit of his mouth. As the fire built between us, my kisses turned fast and passionate.

  I pulled away with a whimper. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the coffee shop.” I motioned to the inside of the car. “This is surprising. I figured you’d drive something more businesslike, a sedan or something.”

  “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “I have a shitty job; I have to find ways to have fun outside of work.”

  “And what other ways do you like to have fun?” I asked flirtatiously.

  Without any warning, his mouth crushed against mine and I parted my lips for him. As we pulled apart, the tip of his ring finger traced a line across my swollen bottom lip. “I also have a motorcycle. You’ll have to take a ride with me once the weather warms up.”

  I blanched. “I think I’m too much of a wimp to ride on a motorcycle.”

  His eyes danced with amusement. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

  I rested against the seat and took a minute to study him. “You’re a credit card rep who has a muscle car and rides a motorcycle. You’re certainly unique.”

  “I like you a lot, Kayla.” Cameron’s tone softened. “Will you have dinner with me?”

  I almost groaned out loud. Why did so much of our lives have to focus on food? “That sounds nice,” I said noncommittally.

  “Are you free Friday night?”

  “No, I’m going home for the weekend. My mother wants to spend time with me for my birthday.” That was the nice way of putting it. In actuality, my mom wanted to continue her reign of emotional damage until I was close to imploding.

  “How about Thursday then?”

  Since I was free on Thursday, we made plans for him to pick me up from the dorm at seven. My anticipation level would be at an all-time high waiting for our date all week. Maybe Cameron would be able to help me rediscover what happiness looked like.

  Chapter Nine

  The stomach cramps began at eight in the morning. They woke me from a deep slumber and I clutched my mid-section in agony. I made it to the bathroom with only seconds to spare.

  After leaving Starbucks, the cookie began to haunt me. Along with the cake and pizza from the night before, I suspected the weight I’d worked so hard to lose would creep back on. All the nights I went to bed crying because I was ravenous would be for naught.

  By the time I returned to the dorm, it would’ve been too late to throw up the cookie. With this in mind, I ended up pulling into the closest pharmacy. I combed the store until I found the aisle with the digestive aids. I had no idea how effective the laxatives were and chose the box labeled maximum strength.

  As I swallowed two pills, chasing the medicine down with a sip of the bottled water I purchased, I skimmed the directions on the back. The laxatives would produce a bowel movement within twenty-four hours and should be taken with plenty of water. The recommended dosage was two capsules, but I swallowed another two to be sure the pills would empty out whatever was left behind from my two days of snacking.

  I cried out as I sat miserably on the toilet the next morning. The cramps stabbed at my gut and wouldn’t let up. Once I finished going to the bathroom, I thought the worst was over. But instead, the ache continued and I was unable to get off of the toilet. There would be no possible way I’d make my presentation at nine-thirty; it was ten percent of my grade in Press History, and I was already struggling in the course.

  I was in the bathroom for over an hour. My roommates would be getting up soon and I felt humiliated about the stench emanating from the bathroom. Despite spraying half a can of air freshener, the area still remained toxic. Slinking out of the bathroom, I rushed into my room and gently shut the door. If I pretended to be invisible, I wouldn’t have to face my roommates.

  As I collapsed on the bed, I came to the conclusion I didn’t care that much about my Press History grade. Nothing else mattered in my quest to be skinny.

  “Christ, Kayla, you look so small! How much weight have you lost?”

  Brittany stood in my doorway while I dressed for my date with Cameron. I had on a camisole and black pants and was browsing through my closet trying to choose a shirt. Brittany scrutinized my body, her eyes narrowed, and I could see her trying to calculate how much weight I’d dropped over the past few weeks.

  “I don’t know,” I said nonchalantly, “maybe ten pounds.”

  The accurate number was nineteen pounds. I weighed myself religiously at the same time each morning and again before bed at night. During winter break, I’d been one hundred forty-five pounds. That morning the scale had displayed one hundred twenty-six. In only six weeks, I’d dropped three dress sizes.

  “What kind of diet are you doing? I barely see you eat anything at all.”

  I was flustered. I had tried to hide the shameful things I was doing to become skinny. I always ate alone in my room, and I only binged and purged when my roommates weren’t around. I had tried to simply eat five hundred calories a day to keep up with my weight loss. Yet, after a day or two, my stomach would twist in protest and I found myself craving the food I’d been denying myself. I couldn’t stop eating until I greedily consumed enough junk food that my belly felt close to explosion. As I vomited the food into the toilet, I would finally feel a stillness inside me. I hated passing the mirror as I exited the bathroom, my cheeks flushed and my eyes red-rimmed, the evidence of how I was powerless against food plain on my face.

  “I told you about my resolution,” I said. “I’m really trying to watch what I eat. I’m not following a set diet.” I continued the exploration of my closet, praying Brittany would stop her line of questioning.

  As I dug a red sweater out of the closet, Brittany snorted with distaste. “You’re not seriously thinking about wearing that, are you? It’s a date, not another day for you to bum around in your hideous sweaters.”

  Elbowing me out of the way, she reached in for a white top with the tags still attached. “Wear one of the shirts I bought you for your birthday.”

  “It’s see-through,” I pointed out. It was a sheer white lace top with a floral design stitched into the fabric.

  Brittany rolled her eyes. “You don’t wear it without anything underneath, you’d be arrested. Keep on the black camisole you’re wearing. I’d change into a skirt, too, but since you dress like a nun, I’m guessing you’ll stick with the black pants.”

  Assuming she’d harass me until I submitted, I put on the top. I shifted uneasily, hating how much my body was on display. Gazing into the full-length mirror on the wall, I criticized every bulge visible. The only thing I saw in my reflection was how horribly fat I appeared. This was what my life had become inside of my mind. The mantra of fat, fat, fat on constant replay.

  “I look awful,” I protested.

  “Are you on drugs, Kayla? Cameron’s tongue is going to fall out of his mouth when he sees you.” Chewing on her thumb thoughtfully, she added, “You better wear your sexiest pair of underwear, too.”

  “I’m not sleeping with him tonight. It’s our first date.” I picked up a hairclip from my desk, gathered my hair into a loose bun, and clipped it to the nape of my neck. My makeup bag was on my desk and I began to apply my mascara.

  “I beg to differ. It’s your third date, and by most standards that’s when you’re supposed to have sex for the first time.” Brittany perched on my desk, observing me.

  “How do you figure? We’ve never been on a real date yet.”

  Brittany counted with her fingers. “The night at the bar for your birthday, the day after when you went to coffee together and now tonight.”

  Smiling wryly, I asked, “Is that how long you waited to sleep with Kurt?”

  Brittany stuck out her ample chest and huffed, “Yes. Our first date was
when he walked us home from the gym, our second date was when we went to dinner at The Court and the third was when he took me to ice cream after dinner.”

  I giggled. “I think calling that three dates is a stretch.”

  Brittany rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “Where’s Cameron taking you to dinner?”

  “La Villa Rosa. I told him to pick a place and he said they have good Italian food there. I’ll be too anxious to eat much anyway so it doesn’t matter where we go.”

  I browsed the menu online to prepare for the date. I wanted to have a game plan ready so I could order something that wouldn’t ruin my diet. Cheesy pastas, steaks in heavy sauces, and fried fish dishes contained enough calories to surpass my calorie goals for the week. I’d have to order the grilled chicken with vegetables or a salad with fat-free dressing to avoid overindulging.

  “Don’t be nervous, it’s only a date,” Brittany told me. “Try not to be uptight, and have fun.”

  If only it was that simple.

  “They have a wine list. Do you want to order a bottle?”

  I drummed my fingers on the table and tried to remember how many calories were in a glass of wine. If I was correct, I believed white wine had fewer calories than red wine. At my lengthy pause, Cameron had begun staring at me. This had become my life, disappearing into my head in an obsessive quest to be thin.

  “Any type of white wine would be good. I don’t know much about wine, so you can pick a type,” I said.

  “I’m typically a beer drinker, so I’m clueless about wine. We’ll ask the waiter to recommend something,” he said, setting down the wine list.

  “You should never do that; he’ll swindle you into ordering the most expensive bottle.”

  “You’re probably right,” he acknowledged and his lips upturned into a seductive smile.

  I took the opportunity to study him. For the date, he had dressed in a light green dress shirt, tailored perfectly to accentuate his broad shoulders and chest. His gray dress pants were neatly pressed and belted around his narrow waist.

  The restaurant was upscale, the atmosphere romantic. The lighting was low, and soft piano music played in the background. Cameron was going to great lengths to impress me, which was unnecessary, since I was already infatuated.

  When it was time to order, I chose a salad with hearts of palm and artichokes, seasoned with lemon juice. Before Cameron ordered, he frowned my way. “Are you going to order anything else? I think that’s a starter salad.”

  As the waiter and Cameron stared at me, my palms began to sweat. I felt smothered by the questions and opinions everyone seemed to have lately about my eating habits. “Umm, I’ll also have the vodka rigatoni with chicken.”

  It was a horrible choice. The prosciutto and the heavy whipping cream gave the dish an astronomical amount of calories. However, throwing up my food for two months had taught me what type of meals would come up easier than others. Creamy foods and desserts weren’t as likely to become lodged in my throat and produce a coughing fit.

  “What are you thinking about?” Cameron asked me when the waiter left.

  “Hmmm?”

  “You sometimes get this faraway look on your face. It makes it difficult to read you.” He paused. “I wouldn’t mind having a peek inside your head to figure out what you’re thinking.”

  What an appalling thought. I couldn’t stand to be inside my own head, no less wish my thoughts on anyone else. “I’m thinking about how much I don’t want to go home for the weekend.”

  “Why?”

  “I miss my sister,” I insisted, “but my mother is a lot to handle. She’s a critical person and has only gotten worse since my father passed away. Usually when I’m home, she spends our time together lecturing me about how I’m disappointing her.”

  “She sounds intense.”

  “She’ll scare you away when you meet her.” I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand. “I’m sorry, that was presumptuous. I mean, we’ve only hung out a couple of times, I wasn’t trying to suggest we’re serious enough to meet each other’s parents—”

  He interrupted my rambling. “Kayla, it’s okay.” He sucked on his lower lip, momentarily allowing me to forget my embarrassment, instead fantasizing about his kiss. “I like you, Kayla—a lot. If anything, I’m worried I’ve been coming on too strong. You seem a little skittish when you’re around me, and I wonder if it’s because I’m making you nervous.”

  I wasn’t uncomfortable around him; I was terrified of being with him. Cameron created a yearning inside of me, a need to be in his arms and forget about the outside world. My heart was too fragile to hand over to someone who could easily crush it.

  “You’re not coming on too strong,” I said softly. “I like you too.”

  “Good, because I’ve wanted to ask you out since I first saw you walking toward me in the Student Center.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice as he talked about our first meeting.

  He laughed. “I was in the middle of talking to another student when I saw you. I think he was pissed when I cut him off mid-sentence to stop you.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Why?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What was it about me that you liked?”

  It wasn’t the most polite question, and it gave him a peek into my insecurities, but I was desperate to know. Cameron could have any girl he wanted—what was it about me he found appealing?

  He laughed uncomfortably. “Kayla, are you messing with me? Or are you seriously that modest?”

  My eyebrows lifted quizzically.

  He continued, “As soon as I saw you walk out of the bookstore, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you. You’re gorgeous, but in such an unassuming way, like you have no idea of the effect you have on men.”

  “Now, are you the one messing with me?”

  He shook his head insistently. “Maybe it’s because you’re shy and you don’t notice it, but I swore I was going to get into a fistfight at the bar when I saw all those guys ogling you.”

  I wanted to believe him, I did, but my self-image was warped to the point where I pondered whether I should avoid my reflection altogether. The best tactic was to change the subject. “Thanks for wanting to defend my honor.”

  “Anytime.” He grinned. “I want to be the only guy allowed to ogle you.”

  My spine straightened and my pulse picked up. It was too late to protect myself from Cameron—he was unraveling my defenses and forcing his way into my guarded heart.

  Chapter Ten

  “Miss, are you alright? Should I get someone for you?” The female voice sounded elderly and called through the bathroom stall.

  “I’m fine,” I croaked.

  I had waited for the bathroom to clear before I stuck my finger down my throat, but someone had walked in while I was throwing up. As quiet as I tried to be while getting rid of my dinner, the noise had been loud enough to alert the other person using the bathroom.

  It took five minutes before the woman finished going about her business and exited the bathroom. Emerging from the stall, I cringed at my sight in the mirror. I was flushed and my eyes were tearing up. Dampening a paper towel with cold water, I used it to pat down my neck and face. I concealed the redness with the powder from a compact I brought and reapplied my red lipstick. After popping a mint in my mouth, I ventured back into the restaurant.

  “I was starting to worry about you,” Cameron remarked when I returned to the table. Leaving your date for fifteen minutes while you vomited up dinner wasn’t the best way to make a good impression, I thought as he knitted his eyebrows together.

  “Sorry, just freshening my makeup,” I said.

  “I ordered a chocolate cake for us to share.” He motioned to the dessert plate in front of him.

  “No thanks, I’m stuffed from dinner.” I noticed a piece of chocolate on the corner of his lips. Reaching across the table, I used my thumb to brush off the crumb. Before I could pull away, he gripped my
wrist softly. His fingers moved in gentle circles around my bare skin.

  “Do you want to hang out after dinner? I could show you my apartment.”

  “Umm …” I trailed off awkwardly. The lust in my belly was screaming out in protest, demanding I go with him to his apartment. My practical side was telling me I wasn’t ready to jump into bed with him. An emotional attachment to him had already started, and sleeping with him would leave me completely undone.

  “No pressure, I only wanted to spend more time with you,” he said.

  “Maybe we could go to my dorm instead?” At least with my roommates there, I’d be assured we wouldn’t get carried away. I wasn’t Brittany; I’d be mortified if my roommates overheard us having sex.

  He agreed and requested the check. Despite my forceful attempts at giving him money, he paid the bill, leaving a generous tip. I wished I could accept his kindness without questioning what his true motives could be.

  My heart was hammering when we arrived back at the dorm and found the floor deserted. I’d forgotten the twins and Brittany were headed to a fraternity party with Kurt and a few of his friends. My voice caught as I unlocked the door to my room and announced, “So, this is my room …”

  As he walked to the center of my room, his presence was overpowering. I did a quick inventory of my surroundings and was relieved I had cleaned up before heading out for the night. Cameron turned toward my desk and began inspecting the photos I had lined up. He held up one of the last family pictures I had that included my dad. We were dressed for my cousin’s wedding and standing in front of the church where the ceremony was held.

  “You and your little sister look so much alike,” he said, casting a glance at me before looking back at the picture. I silently begged for him not to make a comparison of me against my mother, where I would fall irrevocably short.

  “You have the same eyes as your dad. I’ve never seen such a dark shade of brown before—they’re remarkable.” He put the picture back down without another word. I stayed still although I had the strongest urge to kiss him.