Perfectly Thin, page 17
“Really? Love tequila!” She knocks mine back in seconds, and I cringe as I watch her face crinkle.
“I might go help Mom,” I say as I turn to walk away.
“Hey, before you go.” Daphne grabs my arm, preventing me from getting further away from her. “You’re doing a great job with the weight, eh?” She makes a circular motion around my body.
“Are you asking or telling me I look good?”
She chuckles. “I’m telling you. I can’t believe how much you’ve lost even from when...” She turns her head and her eyes wonder over to Papou. “You know.”
“Yeah, I do.” I smile. “Thanks, but I haven’t lost that much. And now the stupid scales are broken, so I have no idea even if I’m losing or gaining.”
“Broken? Really? I got on them earlier, and they seem to be working then.”
My breath catches in my throat. Yes! They’re working again. I can’t wait to see what my real weight is. Fidgeting, I’m busting to get inside and weigh myself. To see if I’ve lost or put on weight.
Daphne is talking about school, but all my mind is doing is trying to justify to myself that it’s okay if I’ve put on weight. There’s always tomorrow. Yeah, that’s right. If I’ve put weight on, then I’ll go hard as of tomorrow.
But tomorrow never comes. There’s no such thing as tomorrow. If I’ve put weight on, I have to start now. It doesn’t matter that it’s my eighteenth birthday, I can disappear for an hour and go for a quick four-mile walk. That shouldn’t take me longer than an hour, and everyone is pretty wrapped up in what they’re doing, so maybe they won’t even notice I’ll be gone.
Crap, I took two laxatives, I can’t be gone for an hour, maybe half an hour. I should be okay, it’s only an hour. The laxatives won’t work that fast.
“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” I say to Daphne who’s been talking all this time. I think she was telling me about school, I’m not sure I’m not really listening.
“Okay.” She shrugs, and walks over to get another drink.
I head straight for the scales. The moment I’m in the bathroom, I strip down to my underwear. I want to give myself the best opportunity possible to see the biggest weight loss number I can.
Excitedly, I don’t even psyche myself into looking at the number. I just...look.
“Are you shitting me?” I say aloud. I thought she said they were working. “One, forty-five. Yeah, right.”
Frustration floods me, and I step off the scales, and kick them to the side. What a load of shit. This is bullshit. Getting dressed slowly, I can’t wrap my mind around these damn scales. Why would Daphne say they seem to be working fine, when clearly, they’re not? One forty-five? Really? Not only is that impossible, but I don’t look like I weigh one forty-five. The rolls on my stomach, the overhang just above my knees, the chunky hips, even my neck are all fat.
Tears well in my eyes, replacing the frustration and anger. I’m so over being fat and not being able to lose the weight no matter what I do.
Feeling upset, and deflated I get dressed again, and open the door to the bathroom. I’m met with Josh, Cleo’s boyfriend walking up the hall toward me.
“Hey,” I say as I step aside so I’m not in his way.
“Hey. Are you okay?” he asks, stopping me from returning outside.
“Yeah, you know, just stupid girl stuff.”
I try to walk away, but he keeps talking. “Is it your sister? What she said to you?”
“What?” The excitement of the thought of the scales working, completely overshadowed her horrible words toward me. “Nah.” I shrug. “I’m used to it from her. Anyway, I better get back.”
Again, I move to leave, but Josh stops me. “You know, you’re much prettier than her,” he says.
My skin pebbles. My natural reaction is to pull away from him. He tightens his grip, and yanks me into him. “Let me go,” I say.
“You’re way cuter than your sister.” He brings his head close to me, ready to kiss me.
“Let me go!” I say louder as I step back.
He pushes me against the wall, and pins me up against it with his body. “Why, what are you going to do?” he asks smugly. He thrusts his hips, and I can feel exactly what he wants from me.
“Get off me!” I yell louder. I swear someone has to have heard, but with the Greek music playing, and everyone talking, I doubt anyone is going to come in and rescue me.
Josh tightens his grip around my wrists, and lowers his head to kiss me. “You know you want me.”
But screw this. I’m not a damsel in distress. I might be fat, and I might be ugly, but I’m not going to let him do this to me, or to my sister. There’s not enough room to knee him, but there’s enough room for me to head-butt him. I smash his forehead with mine. The pain is immediate. He cries out and releases his grip as he stumbles back. It gives me enough time to scream, and run out into the backyard where everyone’s stopped what they’re doing and and are staring at me.
Dad is beside me in a heartbeat, Papou and Mom right behind him.
“What’s...what’s...” Dad’s searching over me, making sure I’m safe.
I’m rubbing at my forehead, trying to get the pain to disappear.
Mom has her arms around me, looking around for the reason as to why I ran out here screaming. “Josh,” I say between heavy breathing, trying to catch my breath. I point inside, where Josh probably still is.
“What happened to Josh?” Cleo asks.
“He...he....he...” I can’t say the words. I burst into tears, as my breathing increases.
Dad, Mark, and Papou run inside.
“What did you do to Josh?” Cleo asks again, this time coming right up in my face. “What did you do?”
“Me?” I yell, unable to contain, or even understand what’s happening. “He came on to me. Told me I was cuter than you, before pushing me against the wall and trying to kiss me with his hands around my wrists. So I head-butted him, and ran.”
Cleo looks confused as she steps backward. “What?” she whispers. “Why would he do that?” She takes another step backward as she’s shaking her head and looking down at the ground. “Why would he do that?”
I can’t believe her. “Why, Cleo? Because I’m not thin enough, or pretty enough, or what? Because I’m not you? You think I’m so grotesque that no one would want something like me?” I scream at her.
I see Emma and Presley from the side, both gasp and raise their hands to their mouths.
Cleo lifts her head and stares right at me. “That’s not what I’m saying, Jane.” She steps closer to me. “I’m saying why would he do that to you, to anyone?”
We hear a kerfuffle, and we all turn to see what’s happening. Mark has Josh by the scruff of his neck, while Dad’s on the phone, and Papou is standing in front of Josh with his hand around Josh’s wrist.
“Dad, what’s happening?” Cleo asks.
“I’m on the phone to the police. This bastard is going to jail for touching my daughter.”
“That bitch threw herself at me, and when I said no, she tried getting rough,” Josh says with a deadly serious tone.
“You lying, bastard,” I yell. He gives me a look, one to say, ‘no one’s going to believe you.’
There’s a lot of yelling, and noise, and angry words being thrown around. It’s overwhelming, and I’m trying everything to drown out the noise.
“The police are on their way,” Dad says as he tucks his phone into his pocket.
Shit, what if they don’t believe me?
I start doubting myself. What if it actually didn’t happen, and all he did was say hello to me? I pull back slightly, and I bite on the inside of my cheek. Staring at my feet, I try to recollect exactly what happened. Even though it was only a few moments ago, it feels like a lifetime has passed. My head’s fuzzy, and I can’t remember exactly what he did.
Everyone’s going to think I made it up, but I know I didn’t.
“Are we doing the right thing?” I whisper to myself.
“What?” Mom asks.
“What?” I reply.
“What did you say?”
There’s a tightness in my stomach, and I feel myself trapped in a moment I want to forget. Maybe we should drop all of this, and leave it behind. No good can come from anything here.
I mean, no one’s going to believe me. I really shouldn’t have said anything. Why did I? I feel myself retreating, moving further and further away from everyone.
“Jane, you have to sit. You’re as white as a sheet,” Presley says as she moves to take me by the arm, and help me over to a chair.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper, almost in a murmur.
“You can, because we’re all here to support you.”
I shake my head, and flatten my lips into a tight thin line. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
“Jane...” Emma’s voice is clear but far away. “Jane!” her voice is getting further and further away, and a hole with darkness is getting bigger, and bigger.
“Shit, she’s passing out,” I hear Mom scream.
“I can’t do this...”
The blackness of the hole is encompassing, welcoming. It’s my gateway to relief.
“Jane, can you hear me?” Opening my eyes, I see a paramedic standing over me.
“I can hear you,” I say as I blink a few times, and try to sit up. My head is distorted with blurry images of what happened. I look around, and see two police officers speaking with Dad, and Josh is nowhere to be seen. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” the paramedic says flatly. “When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?”
“Um...” I look around, still dazed, and confused. “What?”
“When did you eat last?”
My brain catches up to my mouth, and before I answer the question honestly, I shrug. “Um, this morning I think.” I search for Josh, and definitely can’t see him anywhere. “What happened to Josh? He grabbed me, and pushed me up against the wall, he was thrusting into me.” I shiver, feeling dirty and repulsed at the same time. “I head-butted him to get away.”
“My concern right now, Jane, is you,” the young female paramedic says. “Can you stand or do you need help?” I find I’m on the ground, and not on a chair. I don’t remember exactly what happened.
“I’m okay.” I push up, but I’m unsteady on my feet.
The paramedic brings a chair to me. “I need you to sit, so I can run some more tests on you.”
“Tests? What kind of tests? I’m okay.” I see there’s something clamped on my finger, and I move to take it off.
“Leave it. It monitors your pulse. And I need to put these on too.” She holds up these small, grey circles and reaches to put them on my chest.
“What are they?”
“It monitors your heart rate. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”
I shake my head, not wanting any more fuss made over me. “I’m fine.”
“Just let her do her job,” Mom begs.
“I’m fine, Mom.” I take the thing off my finger, and stand, pushing past the paramedic. I know she has a job to do, but all I want to do is go have a shower and wash the filth of Josh off me. Then come out here and burn the clothes, because they’ll be a constant reminder of the repulsive things he said and did. “I’m fine,” I say again.
“Jane, sit your ass back down, and let the poor woman do what she’s supposed to do,” Mom demands.
“No! I’m fine,” I say again, as I move away from everyone. “I just need a shower.”
“You need to eat something too. The food will help with the shock,” the paramedic says.
“She needs to go to the hospital,” Yiayia says frantically. “Make sure she’s okay. She’ll go to the hospital.”
The paramedic holds her hand up, her partner, a younger male, steps in. “Calm down, everyone,” he says trying to gain control of my distressed Yiayia, my agitated Mom, and everyone else who has an opinion on what I should and shouldn’t be doing.
“Look, the biggest thing we’re worried about is a concussion because of the head-butt. But as long as you don’t go to sleep for the next five to six hours, and you get some food into you, then you should be okay. Your pulse is racing, but that’s understandable because of what happened. I’d like to give you a more thorough examination, but...” She turns to Mom. “She seems okay.”
“No, you have to do more,” Mom begs.
“For God’s sake, Mom. I don’t want more.” Crap, double crap. What if they want me to stay in the hospital, and I get hooked up to an IV? The IV will be unnecessary calories I don’t need right now. Not to mention, hospital food. Ugh, no thanks. Twisting the hem of my t-shirt in my hands, I give Mom, and everyone else a smile. “I’m okay, really I am.”
“I’m happy to leave her here with you,” the paramedic says.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not going to the hospital, I’m going inside to have a shower, then come out here and enjoy the rest of my birthday.”
“The police want to talk to you first,” Dad says as he returns from where he had been standing.
“Okay.” I see two police officers flanking Dad, and now they want to talk to me.
What a great eighteenth birthday.
Not.
Waking up, I feel like there’s an elephant sitting on my head. There’s a pressure I can’t describe pounding at my temples, and my chest feels tight and is cracking with every breath I’m taking.
Last night was disastrous.
Mom and Dad watched me with eagle eyes, to make sure I held my emotions together. All I wanted to do was tell everyone to leave, so I could curl up on my bed and sleep.
But I couldn’t do that.
Because once the police were done, they left with Josh in the back of the police car. He was arrested for assault, but it was explained to me because this is his first time, it’ll likely be downgraded to a misdemeanor.
This morning I lay in bed, looking at the light breaking through the curtains, and wish I could have a re-do of yesterday. I can hear the hushed voices of my sisters, parents and grandparents coming from the kitchen. And all I want to do, is stay in bed, and avoid them all.
I know the moment I’m out in the kitchen, everyone will fuss, or be watching and expecting me to break down and cry. I did that already, last night in the shower. I’m not going to do it again. Not in front of everyone, that’s for sure.
I’m exhausted though, and I don’t want to do anything. I don’t even want to do my sit-ups, but I know if I don’t, I’ll probably gain like five pounds in a day. And God only knows, I cannot afford an extra five pounds on top of the weight I’m already carrying.
I push the covers back, slink down to the floor and start doing my morning sit-ups. I can now easily do two-hundred, so I’m going to push myself and do three-hundred. I don’t think anyone expects me out of bed any time soon, so I can actually stay and do another fifty if I want once I finish the three-hundred.
My mind is jumbled, running wild with Josh in my face, trying to kiss me. Remembering his body’s reaction as he moved his hips into me.
I shiver, and feel sick to my stomach as those vivid pictures keep playing over and over in my head. Why would he do that? I don’t understand.
Why would he do that to Cleo? Has he done this before and never been caught? Did he do this to Cleo? I don’t understand what happened. Was I wearing something I shouldn’t have been wearing? Not that it matters because there’s no reason for this to have happened. I just don’t get it.
I’m lost, so completely absorbed in last night’s fiasco that I’ve forgotten to count how many sit-ups I’m at. I don’t know, I’ll keep going until my abs are roaring in agony. It’s the least I deserve after what happened.
I must’ve brought it on myself. I must’ve given Josh some kind of mixed signal. Cleo’s going to be so upset with me. She already doesn’t like me. This’ll push her over the edge.
Now we’ve all had a few hours of rest, and can think about it with a clear head, she’s going to despise me more than she already does.
What am I going to say to her?
What am I going to say to everyone?
I stop doing my sit-ups, and move my body so my back is against the bed. Sweat is dripping off me, but all I can think about is facing everyone. I’m hurting from both the sit-ups and the anticipation of facing my family.
What if they blame me?
I suppose, in some kind of way, maybe I am partially to blame. I mean, the jeans were really tight, and I had no business wearing them. Not with a body like mine.
Drawing my obese legs up, I rest my head on my flabby knees. I should get up and go face the music. The disappointing stares, the lectures, all the blame from my family.
But, I don’t want to.
Can’t I just stay in here all day? It’ll be much easier if I avoid everyone and bask in my own world. A world not revolving around poor Cleo, and horrible Jane.
There’s a soft knock on my door, and I nearly don’t want to say anything. But this house isn’t exactly about privacy. And I know, whoever it is, is bound to open the door regardless if I say anything or not.
“Yeah,” I say.
The door opens and Daphne pops her head into my room. “Hey, you’re awake?” she asks, surprised.
“Yep.” I want to say something more sarcastic, but Daphne means well.
“What are you doing on the floor?”
Turning my head, I keep my eyes on a spot on the ground. “I did some sit-ups,” I say.
“Sit-ups? You do sit-ups? That’s how you’ve gotten this amazing body.” She sits beside me, and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “You’re sweaty.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I take a deep breath. “Is Cleo okay?”
“She’s upset.”
Of course, she is. I’d be upset with me too, although, I really didn’t do anything to provoke him. I mean, I did, I wore those stupid jeans, and I shouldn’t have. “Yeah, right.”
“Do you think she’s upset with you?”
