Come with me
The words are in my head
But Dad reads them with his eyes
Reaches over and squeezes my hand
Knowing there are some things
Dads can’t do
Exams rooms are one
Not for a daughter
Growing out of her teens
“I’ll be right here,” he says. “See you when you’re done.”
It makes me feel better
Hearing him say the words
Knowing
That he
Will
Be
Here
Slight Variation
I got on the scale
Backward
Which was fine
Wore a blood pressure cuff
Made for a child
Which I loved
Was shown that my nail beds
Were slightly blue
Which I knew
Saw the mercury in the thermometer
Hover a few degrees too low
Which made sense
Since I’m cold
Sitting here now
In a paper gown
Watching Dr. Larsen write
In blue ballpoint ink
On a chart
She looks up at me
And sighs
Her mouth smiles but her eyes
Are sad
And I know
That she knows
My secret
Is
Out
Doctor’s Orders
It’s Dad, Blue, and me
Three across
In the truck
Headed back home
There’s an orange file folder in my lap
Full of pamphlets
With pictures of laughing kids
One a picture of a plate
Full of food
With the words—
“Food is Medicine!”
Across the top
I hate that one
The most
Stapled to the inside of the folder
Is a business card
With a phone number
And an address nearly two hours away
A referral has been made
To this therapist
But
It’s the loose-leaf pages
Behind the pamphlets
That make me nervous
Meal planning sheets
The exchange system
Dr. Larsen had explained
No calories
Foods lumped into groups
Grains, fruits, vegetables, milk, meat, and fats
Eaten at each meal
Fill in the blanks
On the sheets
Showing how many exchanges were consumed
Simple as that
Dr. Larsen made copies
Thirty
One per day of the month
Then what? I’d asked.
“Then we’ll see,” she’d said.
Which made me mad
Because we both know
What we’ll see
If all these blanks are filled
Me
Fat
The Question
So can I ride? Mr. Bradford said I need a note.
I’d asked
“No. Not now anyway,” Dr. Larsen had replied.
I’d known
By the look in her eyes
There was nothing
I could’ve done
To make her
Change
Her mind
“Ask me that question in a month,” she’d said.
I asked
But the truth is
I shouldn’t compete
Even if I can—
At least not this year
I have no right
To try to follow
In my mom’s footsteps
Not after
What I’ve done
Day One
Breakfast
Looks like a shake
Tastes like chalk
Viscous as paste
Clogs my throat
With this glut of calories
We call a
Supplement
That sits in my stomach
Heavy
Like
I
Am
Now
Gone
I’ve been thinking about it
All day
Using the downstairs bathroom instead of mine
Avoiding
The scale
Dr. Larsen banned
That Dad doesn’t even know I have
But I’m thinking about it now
Hidden away in the cabinet beneath my bathroom sink
Because Dad is out at the barn
Leaving me
A choice
Which it really isn’t
I go upstairs
To get a shirt
Possibly a book
It doesn’t matter
I go
Upstairs
Blue pads behind me
One step, then two
Through my room
Into my bathroom
Because, really
It can’t hurt
Seeing a number
On a scale
Just once
Cross-my-heart-hope-to-die-promise-myself
Just once
Because as long as it didn’t go up
Even if it didn’t go down
I need to see
Have to know
Even with the memory of the fuel-soaked air
Sirens slicing the sky
And Lacey’s arm
Bent so wrong
I still want to
Need to
Know
Hating myself for being
So weak
My fingers flutter
Butterfly wings
On the edge of the cabinet door
I open it
Band-Aid rip–quick
To see
There’s an empty square on the cabinet floor
Where my scale should be
Not that I need it
I remind myself
That scale
Because I don’t
Not anymore
But the electrical storm in my chest
Explodes
Wires snap
Sparks fly
My elbow hits the wall
Plaster and bone
It hurts
I’m glad
I can cry
About this
I slide down the wall
Knees to my chest
Cradling my elbow
In the palm of my opposite hand
Blue slinks in
Settles down on the bath mat beside me
Leans in to catch a tear
As it slides down my cheek
With a swipe of his tongue
That’s when I see it
A plain white note card
Cut into a teeny tiny square
With a pink felt-tip heart on the front
Scotch-taped to the inside of the cabinet door
Above where the scale
Should
Be
I grab it by the corner
Peel it off
On the back it reads
It is time. Love you, Rae.
—
A—
She shouldn’t
Love me
Asia
That is
I know
I don’t
Left Unsaid
Asia called
To say hi
To talk about
School
So much homework, possibly a quiz. Then there’s that lab, the one she didn’t do
Rodeo team
We’re traveling—next week—next month—we should probably check. Both of us ignoring the fact that I’m not allowed to ride yet.
Alexi
She makes her crazy. That goofy little kid.
My stomach
It hurts
But it’s easier
Not to think
About
That
When I listen
To Asia talk
All the food
In my stomach
From lunch—dinner—snacks
All I do now is eat
Flopped on my bed
Staring at the ceiling
My thoughts wander between her words
I wonder how long it will take me
To fall asleep
Tonight
There’s a dance
Asia’s saying
Never mentioning the note
Or the space
Where my scale
Used to be
I hate (love) you
Why did you do this
To (for) me
My mind shouts
As I listen to her talk
“I’ve got to go,” she says. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
Sure.
But then I grab
The end of the call before it falls
Thanks.
The night sky opens up on the line between us
Quiet and dark
We sit there
For a moment
She and I
“Just don’t—”
I know. I’m sorry. I won’t.
“I’ve missed you.”
Me too
I think
Me
Too
Present Tense
Dad isn’t gone anymore
At least not at night
We play cribbage
He and I
After we make dinner, that is
I lay the plates down
He serves the food
Tonight it’s stir-fry
Spicy beef and bamboo shoots
It would be hard
Without the cards
Even with Dad here
It would be hard
To follow through
With the meal
But the game makes it easier
Dad sticks the pegs into the board
I’m red
He’s blue
Always the same
Which I like
Dad wiggles his eyebrows
“Ready to lose?” he asks.
A smile on his face
As he deals the cards
Hands of six
Discard two
Everybody needs to have a dream.
Because that’s how we do it
Tossing down challenges
Alongside the cards
It’s easier not to think about the food
On my fork
Crossing my lips
Touching my tongue
When I’m thinking about runs and straights
Fifteen-two
Fifteen-four
Some nights are easier
This isn’t one
And a run for seven
It’s the rice that’s throwing me
Water helps
I lay my cards down
Take a sip
Dad’s go
He’s got the crib
That’s what I think about
As I take a bite
How he just jumped ahead of me
By twelve
This might be a two-game meal
Make that three
Because his crib is good
Very good
He’s going to bring it home
Fast
But it’s fine
His winning
And we’ll play again
Hand after hand
Until this meal
Is gone
Exit Stage Left
For some reason I didn’t tell Cody
Where I’m going today
But Asia knows
It’s embarrassing
But I couldn’t keep it
From her
The fact that I have to see
A therapist today
Right now
To be exact
Ducking out at the end of second block
Leaving fifteen minutes early
So I can meet my dad
Parked out front
Next to the flagpole
Staring through the windshield
As he runs his fingers
Up and down Blue’s back
While he waits
For me
Standing in front of my open locker
Staring at the collage of pictures
Papering the door
Asia and me
Cody and Micah
A picture of us
All four
Where did she go?
That girl in the middle
Who looks a lot like me
Or at least the me
I used to be
I shove some books into my bag
Not really caring which ones
Just knowing that
Homework
Is something I should do tonight
“Hey.”
I jump
Turn around
Asia
Hall pass in hand
“Thought I’d come and wish you luck.”
I want to cry
Smile instead
As I shrug my bag onto my shoulder
Thanks.
She twines her arm around mine
I bite
The inside of my cheek
Knowing that if the tears start to fall
I might drown
We don’t really say anything
She and I
As we walk down the hall together
I’m so grateful
For her
Knowing that
Even when I try to
I’m not going through this
Alone
The Great Unknown
I’m going to hate her—
The therapist
I’ve been pulled out of school
To see
I’m not going to talk
I’ve got nothing to say
Except that I’m mad
About the food
I’m always eating
about the fact that my stomach
always hurts
I’m mad at this body
I can’t
control
“You ready?” Dad asks
As he pulls the truck into the parking lot
Of this brown building
That could be any building
It’s that nondescript
But it’s not
We’re two towns and a world
Away from home
Sure
I say
Easy as anything and swing out of the truck
But not before I’m certain my window is down
More than a crack
For Blue
Who I wish I didn’t have to leave behind
Because this would be so much easier
If he could come
Too
I shut the door
Gently
Letting my fingers sneak back through the window
To scratch him around the ears
And it’s this
The way the he cocks his head
Looks right at me with those eyes
One blue
The other brown
That breaks
All this ice
Inside
Me
I can’t
Don’t want to
Do this
Any of this
Anymore
All the talking-thinking-feeling-hurting
That has become my life
I shouldn’t think
Would never say this out loud
But it was easier
Then
When all I had to think about was
That number
Minus five
Dad’s hands are heavy
Warm on my shoulders
As he turns me
And we walk
He and I
Into this
Another moment
I know
Nothing
About
Cement Words
I’d like to start out by telling her
That people like me
Don’t do
This
Therapy is for girls
Who like to talk
About themselves
Who wear heels
Not boots
Who drive a car
Never a truck
Who couldn’t tell a heifer
From a bull
There’s a clipboard in my lap
A pen in my hand
Boxes on a sheet to check
Answers to questions
Do I feel sad…
Happy…
Disempowered when…
It’s easier to look at the questionnaire
Than at this woman
Sitting in a chair
Across from me
“Call me Taryn,” she says.
Taryn sitting
In this space that looks more like a living room
Than an office
With its caramel-brown couches
End tables and lamps
Taryn is thin
Not the kind I am
Younger than I thought
She’d be
“Would you like some tea?”
But I left my voice stranded
Somewhere between the parking lot and the waiting room
Where Dad is sitting
With a book in his lap
Pretending
Wishing he could concentrate
As these minutes
Slump past
I don’t answer
The Sky Between You and Me Page 21