“I’m sorry too,” he says, still hugging you.
“You don’t need to apologize,” you say. “I was an ass. But I thought you were dead. I was so worried. And then I got mad at you. I’m sorry I was such a bitch and didn’t give you a chance to explain.”
You don’t want to let go of him so you keep hugging Ben, right at the front of your school. You can’t believe you almost screwed it up over something so stupid. You’re so stupid.
“We okay?” he asks.
“We’re okay,” you say. You so want to believe it.
30
It’s Saturday night. Your parents are out, and Todd is in his room, probably plugged into his earbuds. Ben is over. You’re feeling inklings of the monster lurking; he’s getting in the way tonight, telling you that you’re not good enough for Ben, that someone like Ben will never love you, that you’re not good enough for anyone. Your anxiety is rising and usually when you’re with Ben it’s lowered. This is not normal and you’re quiet.
You’re sullen. You’re moody.
Ben can tell.
You’re on the couch, trying to watch TV, but the monster is vying for your attention. It’s like you, Ben, and the monster. Like the monster is third-wheeling. You click the remote control to turn off the TV.
“What’s the matter?” Ben has his arm around you, then he takes your hand in his. The monster howls as if Ben’s touch burns him.
“I don’t feel very well?” you say.
“You hungry?” Ben asks, and he pulls you up from the couch. “Let’s get something to eat.” You don’t want to eat, but Ben is dragging you into the kitchen.
Ben opens the fridge and looks around, rummaging through Tupperware and tin-foiled leftovers, stuff you know you will not touch. It bothers you that Ben is going through your refrigerator.
“What do you have in here?” he asks.
“Like I know.” It comes out very rude.
“Don’t be like that,” he says.
“I’m not hungry,” you say.
“You should eat something. What did you eat today?”
“Stop.”
He turns his head from the fridge and looks at you.
It was the monster that said stop. Not you. You’re sure of it. Because it came out mean and sharp, not how you talk to Ben.
“What? Why?” he asks kindly.
“Don’t be my therapist. I don’t want to eat,” you say. Again, the monster.
He closes the fridge. Looks at you.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
Your bottom lip is quivering. You don’t know what to say. On the one hand you want to cry, you want to fall into his arms and admit you need help, more help than you’re getting. Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped taking your pills. Maybe it was a dumb idea to think you were getting better on your own?
You can’t go on like this, you don’t feel strong enough, and you wish you could tell Ben that you aren’t sure what’s happening, but that you’re extremely sad, and you don’t know what’s going on inside you.
But. You know it’s the monster and you can’t control it when things like this happen. Because if you could control anything, you’d be able to get rid of the monster. And he’s still there.
You pull yourself together and your lip stops quivering.
Ben is still looking at you. You can tell he’s hurt by your attitude, but there’s nothing you can do about it because the monster’s got full control. This is exactly what you’ve been afraid of. Because of this disorder, and because of this monster, you’re pushing away the people you love. It’s happening with Ben.
“Maybe you should just go home.”
“You really want me to go home?” he asks, hurt.
“I just don’t feel well, and I think I should go to bed before I do something not right.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you okay?” he asks again.
“I need to be alone.”
“I don’t think you should be alone.” He sounds demanding to you. The monster tells you that Ben is bossing you around. The monster tells you that Ben is complicating your life, and he doesn’t care for you, only the monster cares for you. This boy, who you’ve known for only six weeks, is using you. The monster says that this boy, this boy in your house now, who’s telling you what to do, is not important, and the monster knows what’s best for you, because he’s been there with you from the beginning.
So the monster tells you what to say next.
“Just go.”
“You sure?” He’s giving you another chance.
Take it, you think.
The monster says no.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay.”
And Ben leaves.
31
It’s the Monday after you made Ben leave and you don’t know how you managed to get through school. You lied to Jae and told her you had to work on math homework during lunch so you didn’t have to see her and you went to the library instead. She would know immediately that something was seriously wrong; she’d see it on your face and she’d know right away. And you can’t face her.
After school your mom comes up to your room to get you for therapy. You tell her you’re not up for it.
“You can’t skip it. We’ll be charged ninety dollars for missing a session. And besides, you’re doing really well. I think you’re getting better.”
“Mom, it’s not helping. None of it is. I can’t do it. Shayna wants me to start tasting foods soon and—”
Your mom cuts you off. “I’m not arguing with you on this one. You’re going. You need to go.”
She has no clue. But you don’t have a say in the matter and she takes you to therapy. Fortunately, Shayna has decided to take a break and skip the food part this week because it stressed you out so much last week. Instead, she does some touch therapy on you where you don’t have to talk that much. You’re so glad because if she asks you about Ben you’re sure you’ll burst into tears.
Later, during group, you sit with the other girls—the ones who don’t eat and the ones who throw up—and you are quiet as you listen to everyone talk about how they are either struggling to eat a salad or struggling not to puke, and you want to die.
You don’t want to be here.
After a while, Shayna notices you are not saying anything, so she puts you on the spot and asks if you have anything to add.
You stay silent for a while, and it’s the uncomfortable type of silence where everyone is staring at you, waiting for you to say something, and you don’t really want to talk but then you just spill out the words. Mostly because you want to know if you’re the only one.
“Do any of you have monsters inside of you?”
When no one says anything you keep talking.