“What do you mean?”
“Do you go to college? Do you work?”
“I waitress during the day at a local diner and take a couple of online courses at night. I plan to take more classes online and maybe attend community college once Aida leaves for school, but I’ll see how it goes. I put off going to college while my mom was sick so I could help with her care. After she died, I took over raising Aida. Aida’s agoodkid who has her head on straighter than most kids her age who have gone through far less than her, but after losing our mom, I vowed to give her as much of my time as I could. Now, I’m going to pursue a career.”
“And what career is that?”
“I’m going get my masters and then my graduate degree in psychology. I plan to work with people who have eating disorders with a focus on teens.”
The defiant way she held his gaze made him realize there was more to her revelation than helping people. “That’s a pretty specific field,” he said, unsure if he was wading into another minefield as he had with her father.
Mollie sipped her water as she contemplated how to respond, but something about Mike made it easier to open up to him than any of her therapists. “They say to do what you know, and I have some experience with eating disorders.”
Mike’s gaze raked her slender frame; she was lean, but a healthy weight for her height. Then he recalled her words from when they sheltered beside the river.“It’s okay; I’m used to going without eating.”At the time, he hadn’t known what to make of those words, but he did now.
“Personal experience?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you still…?” Mike tried to think about how to ask the question.
“No. It’s something I got a handle on before my mom’s cancer diagnosis.”
She stared at him for a minute before deciding to continue. She’d told him this much already.
Taking a deep breath, she told him about those years between thirteen and sixteen—the calorie counting, the hunger, the never being thin enough or good enough feeling that followed her everywhere. To her amazement, she revealed more to him than any of her therapists or the friends she made in her group sessions. She even admitted she’d occasionally purged too, though she hated doing it.
“At my lowest, I couldn’t sleep because my hips or spine would dig into the mattress, and I couldn’t walk upstairs without getting winded. Between my mother’s constant worry and pushing me into counseling, and the knowledge that at fifteen, I couldn’t climb a flight of stairs without feeling like my heart would explode, I finally agreed to get help.
“It took another year for me to understand my anorexia better and gain control of something I was certainIcontrolled. And in the end, that’s what a lot of my disorder was about, having control oversomething. I couldn’t control so many things in my life—my dad leaving, my grandpop dying, things with school and friends—but I could control what I ate.”
When she finished, Mollie dreaded looking into his eyes and seeing revulsion or pity there; she’d seen it so often in the gazes of her friends when they realized what she was doing to herself. However, in Mike’s eyes, she saw no revulsion or pity; instead, there was only compassion.
“But you’re healthy now?” he asked. Listening to her tale of fearing a heart attack while climbing stairs had caused his fangs to extend again.
“Very healthy. It’s something I live with every day and probably will for the rest of my life, but I have a grip on it. I eat healthy; I do a lot of yoga as it helps to clear my mind, and I go for walks without tracking miles and calories burned. I stopped counting calories when I eat, I avoid the scale, and if I want a donut, I have it without punishing myself afterward.
“When my mom died, one of my first thoughts was that I couldn’t eat, but I took a step back, regained control, and didn’t slip into old patterns to handle a stressful situation and bury my grief. I never believed I’d ever get this far with it, and I’m proud of my accomplishments.”
Mollie braced herself for the question nearly everyone asked:why didn’t you just eat?As if it were that simple, as if she hadn’t considered eating when she’d been so hungry it hurt, or drooling over a bagel with cream cheese before setting it aside?
She could easily recall the pride that reared its head when she restrained herself from eating something. That twisted pride in herself and how, in one small way, she was better than everyone else who ate whenever they were hungry while she didn’t have to give in.
Mollie waited for the question, but it didn’t come.
“Those kids will be lucky to have you on their side,” he said.
Unexpected tears burned her eyes. He was so different than anyone else she knew, and with those words, he hammered down more of the defenses surrounding her heart.
“What about you? What do you do?” she asked to distract him from more questions about her.
Mike shrugged before rising and wiping his hands on his jeans. He’d fed while cooking Mollie’s food, but one glance at her neck made him hungry again. Typically, he could go a couple of days between feedings, but being around her pushed his restraint.
“For the past thirty years, I’ve helped raise my nieces and nephews, built houses, and lived life like I was retired, but it’s been an interesting thirty years.” He gave her a brief rundown of what happened with Liam, his wife Sera, their ten children, and the children of those children. He told her about Jack, David, and Doug and what they’d all been through over the years. “It’s been a crazy time.”
“Sounds like it,” Mollie replied. “What did you do before you became a vampire?”
“I did the normal human things. Played with my friends, visited my grandparent's farm, went to high school, then to college. I was a linebacker on my high school and college football teams.” He didn’t tell her he’d been the star of those teams. It was so long ago, to brag about it now would put him in line with Al Bundy. Besides, Mollie wasn’t the type to be impressed by sports achievements.
