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I slip off my shoes and walk in front of the scales. My heart is racing, I feel lightheaded, my stomach is doing flips, and I can barely breathe.
“Abbey.”
I hold my breath and lift one foot up placing it on the scale. I let out a gasp, and then take another breath, holding it in as I lift the other foot and place it on the scale.
I look straight ahead not ready to see the number on the scale.
“Almost there.” Sue praises. Part of me just wants her to shut up, so I can think. Focus. Get my mind straight.
I knew I wasn’t there yet, but still I’m disappointed. I look down at the bright neon numbers glaring back at me. 114 pounds, and 7 ounces. Almost 115. I can’t remember the last time I was 115. It makes me sick, but also excited. Five more pounds and I would be closer to my freedom.
Freedom to do what I please. Pee in peace. Eat when I want to eat. Throw up when I want to throw up. Only I wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. Freedom from constant surveillance would be good but I’d probably not be able to lose weight without Wes noticing and he would be disappointed. I couldn’t let him down like that.
I stepped off the scale and stood there still, realizing I was now going to have to eat constantly, and there was no end in sight to the full feeling in my stomach.
What have I gotten myself into? I would be free, but does that really count as freedom?
Even if Wes and I didn’t become a couple we’d still be friends. He would still be disappointed in me if I stopped eating again. He’d constantly ask me what I ate, watch me eat, and question me about eating.
I had hoped when this arrangement started that it would just be temporary. That I could go back down to at least 100 poundswhere I could feel my ribs. That I could have an empty stomach, be hollow, but that isn’t going to be the case anymore.
I’m in this for the long haul. I’m going to have to actually try to get better.
And I want that. Right? I want to be better for him. I need to be better for him.
But could I do it? Could I really eat every day for the rest of my life?
Sue bends down and picks up the scale, putting it away as I stand there, still processing the fact that I’d have to eat forever.
“Are you okay?” She asks, standing in front of me.
I nod and move to sit on the couch.
“You’re making some real progress.” She sits back down at the table. “My only concern is you might be doing it for the wrong reasons. Don’t get me wrong, I like that Wes has figured out a way to get you to eat without fighting back but there can’t always be a prize. You can’t do it just because he says. You have to want to eat, and you have to learn to enjoy it.”
I nod to her statement, but I don’t think that is possible for me. I don’t think I’d ever get there.
Realistically, I know there can’t always be a prize. I can’t just eat to gain something. Wes would run out of prizes once I got my freedom back. Of course, his approval would still be there, but would that be enough to get me to eat? It has to be.
I sit there pondering the situation I have somehow gotten myself into as Sue types away at her computer.
I’m happy to have Wes in my life- like, really happy to have him- but the amount of work I’m going to have to do to keep him terrifies me.
Am I strong enough to be the girl he deserves?
A knock on the bus door interrupts my thoughts.
“I imagine it’s for you.” Sue says as we look back and forth at one another.
Of course, it is for me. Who else would it be for? This is my bus.
I get up and walk to the bus door. Somehow, despite all logic I know it’s Wes, so I open it without looking out the peephole.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I say, walking to the cupboard we keep the liquor in.
I’m in desperate need of a drink. I grab a bottle of vodka and sit back down on the couch. Wes climbs onto the bus.
