Day 16
Today's story is about a problem that many young women have. Feeling like their life is not their own, they attempt to seize some level of control over their own being by taking control of the one thing that they can - eating.
WHOSE BODY?
The buffet line moved slowly, but not slowly enough for Emily. She stared at the plate she held as if it were full of goat entrails that would reveal her future. Ethan mumbled something beside her, but she pretended not to hear. Let him speak louder, she thought. If he wants me to answer, he’ll speak up.
The woman in front of them was picking over the pieces of chicken, looking for the largest, juiciest piece. Ethan grumbled some more, probably about the slowness of the line, but Emily didn’t care. She was trying to decide what she could put on her plate that wouldn’t cause her problems. Nothing on the buffet looked edible, and she decided she to get out of line and move back to their table.
Ethan started to follow her, but she told him to stay, get something to eat, and…oh, and bring her a roll. She wasn’t very hungry, she explained, and it wasn’t worth this wait when she’d been on her feet all day. Ethan nodded and stayed behind the woman as she moved forward and let him have a chance at the chicken. Emily struggled to hold back the nausea as he piled three fried thighs on his plate.
The line crept forward and disgorged Ethan at the other end, his plate groaning with food choices. He settled across from Emily and began piling food from his plate to hers. “It’s okay”, he said, “since we paid for both of us. I guess you’re just tired.” His voice was sympathetic, but his eyes were worried. This was the third time this week she had given up on dinner before they finished. He had brought her tonight to a favorite place in hopes that she would eat something.
“I had a big lunch”, Emily lied. “I’m just not very hungry.”
“I’m surprised they gave you time for lunch. They work you too hard.”
Emily nodded. She didn’t mind the hours, or the amount of work, but sometimes it was easier just to agree with Ethan than to engage him in a discussion of her work. She pushed the food around on her plate, organizing it into smaller and smaller piles, squeezing it tighter so there would be noticeably more white space on the plate. Ethan fell into his own dinner with gusto, a hearty eater for such a slender man, and didn’t notice her plate until he was finished with his own.
“That all you going to eat?” Ethan glared at her plate, only slightly fooled by the movements of food. “What’d you eat, ten bites? At most?”
“I ate plenty”, she assured him. She had eaten plenty. Nothing was plenty for her, because anything else would put on too many pounds, and then she wouldn’t be attractive to him any more. And work, she thought. Ten pounds…that’s what this food would add, ten pounds. Then how would I be able to model the clothes properly for all those rich ladies who want to think this dress or that one will make them look thin?
“Well, I suppose you know if you’re hungry.” He paid the bill and left a couple of bills on the table. He headed for the door, and she slipped three more bills out of her wallet and dropped them on top of the ones he’d left. He refused to leave a big enough tip at a buffet, because he felt there was no purpose in tipping the waitress when you’d done the work yourself. Emily smiled at the waitress as she headed over to refill their water, and told her they were done.
Ethan closed the apartment door and stood watching her as she moved through the small apartment, straightening the things they had dropped when they left for work. He frowned at her. “How much weight have you lost?”
Emily spun around and confronted him. “What does it matter? It’s just a tiny diet, I needed to drop three pounds for work. Remember? I told you that.”
“Yes, and I told you that was ridiculous. You were perfect the way you are. And you’ve lost way more than three pounds. How long since you’ve eaten a full meal? Be honest, Em, I’m getting scared here.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” At least she could tell the truth about that. She wasn’t sure how long, though she was noting her intake in her diary every evening. “I guess I could check.”
Ethan stared at the numbers marching across the page. “You’re writing down every bite you eat?” He punched his finger at the numbers for yesterday. “Seriously, Em, how can you survive on that? Two diet Cokes and a handful of peanuts?”
Emily snatched the book out of his hands. She didn’t like anyone intruding on her private world. It was the only place she had that she could truly call her own, and now he was handling it, just like it was his business. “Stop.”
The small apartment reverberated with tension as Ethan took back the book and flipped the pages, following the lines of food eaten and weight lost. “Damn, Emily, you’ve lost…nearly thirty pounds! How come I didn’t notice?”
Emily stood and reached again for the book. The increasingly familiar dizziness overcame her, and she stopped to steady herself, but she was on the floor before she could catch onto something to hold. Ethan dropped the book and rushed to her side, but wasn’t fast enough to catch her before she fell.
She struggled to stand, but her head was spinning and she couldn’t get her balance. Ethan helped her up, and steadied her as he reached for his phone. “I’m calling the ambulance.”
The floor was reaching up for her again, and the arm he had around her waist tightened. She slipped in his grasp, but he was able to prevent her from landing on the floor again. The last thing she saw was his face, tight with fear as he barked their address into the phone.
Black. Everything was dark and moist, and she was sliding down a tunnel toward a cold void. She couldn’t stop the slide; gravity, or something, was compelling her down, down, further into the empty room where she was afraid she would find her soul, shriveled and dry, as empty as her stomach. A form loomed in front of her, reaching for her, a form dark and cold, a face like a skull. She stared into the gaunt face, the haunted eyes, a face so like her own but so different. Where had she gone? Why were the eyes so empty, the face so terrified? Was this really her? Her limbs were growing colder, until they were so numb she no longer felt anything. Her feet were being pulled downward, almost into the void, when something grabbed her arms and pulled her back, wrapped her in a warmth that tried to take the cold away, but was not sufficient. She struggled, being torn in two as forces pulled on her from both sides, neither willing to let go. She went limp, giving in to the numbing sensation, and letting herself fall. Everything went black. All the lights went out, and she fell.
The light was so bright she couldn’t open her eyes. Where was she? Had the darkness eaten her? Was she dead? She heard sounds of beeping and voices as though through water. She struggled against the ropes holding her in place. She felt someone touch her wrist, her neck, then a jolt of electricity shot through her body. The numbness fled before the shock, but returned as soon as the electricity ended. Another jolt, and the numbness took flight and didn’t return. She slumped, exhausted. Something tugged at her hand, but she didn’t try to yank it away. She was too tired to fight.
On the other side of the void, she could see Ethan’s face. He was trying to reach her, calling to her, and she reached for him. She could feel his love surge across the chasm that separated them, but it wasn’t quite enough to bridge the gap. He called again, and once more his love reached out for her, but once more failed. She gasped, and called his name. He reached for her again, and his voice carried her up, brought her back to consciousness, and the light.
Emily sat upright, trying to shake off the covers that held her to the bed. She glared at the IV tube sticking out of her arm. How did they have the nerve to treat her without her permission? She was an adult, in full possession of her faculties, right?
Ethan sat beside the bed, his hand wrapped around hers. She tried to yank her hand away, but he held tight. His eyes were wet with tears, and his face reflected the fear she had seen before she passed out. He looked into her face, not speaking, not daring to ask the question that was written in his eyes. “Wasn’t I enough? Couldn’t my love be enough?” Neither of them spoke, but the answer hung between them, a vast chasm that couldn’t be crossed.
She tried to yank the IV tube out of her arm. How dare they feed her? She had the right to do what she wished with her body…they had no right. Ethan grabbed her hand and held both of them tight in his own, preventing her from snatching the life giving fluid out of her arm. She glared at him, cried, and swore at him, but he held on. She couldn’t even control her own body anymore. It was all in the hands of someone else.
Nothing in her life had been her own, except her body. She had been expected to look how others wanted, to walk how others wanted, to dress how others wanted, even to smile no matter how bad a day she had or how bad she felt. Always to “pretty” up the world, no matter whether the world deserved it or not. No matter what, she had always been in control of her own body. Now that had been taken from her.
“We’ll get through this, Em. Together. I’ll help you.”
Emily glared at him. She wasn’t ready to “get through” this. She needed to make her own choices. He looked at her, and saw her thoughts in her eyes.
“Your choices are killing you. You need help. Please, let me help you.”
She tried to push him away, but he held on tight. She thought about biting his arm, but she had never been the violent sort. “Please, Ethan, please. I need…I need…I need some control in my life. I need…don’t let them force feed me, please, don’t let them. “
“I’m sorry, Emily, I’m so sorry, but I can’t stand to lose you. I…you’ve got to let me help you.”
The world closed in around her, choking her, shaking her, telling her what she must do, how she must act. She sank back on the bed, defeated, knowing she would not have say over her own body any more. She nodded, more to acknowledge defeat than to agree, but Ethan lit up. She gave him a weak smile, knowing things would get a lot worse before they got better.