Through the Eyes of the Skinny

         It’s been three months since I had been released from Cambridge Eating Disorder Center. Three months since I had been able to pick and choose what I ate and when I ate. And even though I am free, I still can feel their watchful eyes following me, watching my every move. “Idiots. I am fine on my own.” I mumbled under my breath as soon as I was sure none of the nurses where near, though I quickened my pace down the street, looking as if I were about to break into a run. It’s true, I am fine on my own. I’m not the old Alana anymore. I am reborn, happy with myself.
         Anorexia. That’s the illness I suffered from, the illness that almost cost me my life. At the age of nineteen I weighed a full eighty-eight pounds when I was forced into the Center by my now ex-boyfriend. I remember calling him a ‘irrational idiot’, screaming that there was nothing wrong with me. He didn’t understand, he probably still doesn’t see why I was that way, he’s a man and if your fat as a man your accepted in society. But a fat women is practically shunned, mocked. She becomes the outcast yet still is the center of talk, women whispering behind their hands telling each other not to let her ever get that fat.
         You never see a fat women in the movies, on the television, or in the magazines. Looking into the mirror I would see myself as one of them, as one of the obese. Even when you were almost able to see my shoulder blades protruding out of my skin I’d still see myself as fat, still see myself as ugly. I went through three mirrors in one month, punching them in hopes that the shattered and cracked pieces would form a new me, would maybe, by some chance, make me whole again.
         A loud horn screamed to my right. I looked up to see a car pass me with a man yelling out the window. In shock I realized I had stepped into busy traffic. I heard the words he yelled out his window, “You asking for a death wish!” yet in my mind they became tangled with the old Alana. I blinked at the car that was now so far away I could barely even see it. ‘Fat. He called you fat.’ a voice said from inside and I shook my head wildly. Hiking up the bottom of my dress I quickly dashed across the street to safety before any other cars had a chance to hit me. “I’m not fat” I said firmly, more for myself than just to prove him wrong. Though my words were firm I could still feel that tingle, the itch of the words taking their effect, taking their hold.
         Words. That’s all that’s needed to cause someone to go insane, to give them my illness. Horrid little words, small ones that should have no effect on you yet they cut you so deep that you look down expecting to see yourself bleeding.
         Tears pricked at my eyes, I looked down at the ground ashamed. I felt fragile, like my whole body and world was cracking into pieces. I took in a shaking breath, repeating the words I had taught myself in the center. “Your not fat. Your thin and your beautiful. People would only call you fat to cut you down, to see you fail. No one will believe in you Alana if you don’t believe in yourself first.” Repeating those words, I hurried to hail a taxi.
         Rain pelted down onto the window as I stared at it mindlessly so it would seem, but my mind was replaying my phrase, my lips moving quickly and silently, trying my hardest to believe them. Instead I found my mothers words seeping they’re way into my thoughts. “That shirt makes you look huge Alana, why on earth would you even put it on?” “Should you really be eating all that, don’t you think you’re big enough already?” “Of course your pretty honey, but I bet you’d be prettier if you shed all those extra pounds. No one likes fat girls”
         Mother. The thought of her made my skin crawl. I closed my eyes and her picture swam clearly into my mind. She was tall, much taller than I am. Her strawberry hair always pinned back neatly, her body thin and standing straight up as if she were better than anyone else. She had always been thin.          Always been pretty while I was never thin enough for her. Never pretty enough for her, and the more I tried to please her the more I seemed to fail.
She was the cause of this, or so I was told by my psychologist, Dr. Elena Hover. But with how smart she was, I knew better. “My mother can not to be held responsible for my actions, she wasn’t the one who stopped me from eating though her little remarks were the ‘kick off’ of my illness.” I would tell Dr. Hover time and time again. But, like always she would just sit there cross legged staring at me with those all knowing brown eyes.
         My body jerked forward as the cab came to a halt and the driver turned towards me. “That’ll be fifteen seventy-five.” His husky voice coughed as I opened my purse and dug around, handing him the seventeen dollars. “Keep the change” He nodded his head and lit up a cigarette as I shut the door and looked around. A smoker. Sure he could kill himself with a cigarette slowly, but heaven forbid someone try and make themselves thin by not eating. No, we’re seen as nutters and get ourselves locked up and force feed food. But a smoker, they can walk around killing themselves and the world.
         Walking up a path I looked around. I was thankful for the coverage of the trees. Even though the rain sounded to be letting up I would still be soaked by the time I reached Brooke. A smile touched my lips as I thought of her, looking up into the green leaves, patches of the black sky peeked through the branches. Brooke was the girl I shared a room with at the center. She was two years older than me and we became close, she being my only friend. She was tall, thin and had gorgeous black hair that framed her face perfectly. Her green eyes only added to her beauty, they looked like emeralds against her tanned skin. We looked nothing alike, though she always said she wished she could have my strawberry blonde hair that reached my mid-back.
         Biting on the inside of my cheek I grabbed a chunk of my hair and examined the ends of it. Nothing special, just a color that I have seen more times than I could count. My eyes where nothing special either, just a deep hazel with extremely long eyelashes that were impossible to arch; they would just lie straight out, as if trying to escape me. My skin was frightfully pale, looking as if I had been locked up in a basement my whole life. Whatever Justin, my ex-boyfriend, saw in my I will never understand.
“Boyfriends, trust me Alana they’re useless. You’re better off without them.” Brooke said to me the day Justin broke up with me. He came to see me on my twentieth birthday. Gave me a card, said he loved me but couldn’t be with someone who couldn’t love themselves. Then he left. I can still feel the pain I felt as he left me there. It’s still makes my throat tighten when I think of him, as if it happened just yesterday instead of four and a half months ago.
         “He’s a nasty little punk and you deserve better. We all deserve better than what we’re given” Brooke clucked a few days after. She had always been on to tell it how it is, She never saw the point in sugar coating things. She said it always made things more complicated. She had been the one who was able to ‘revive’ me, bring me back to life. For days I didn’t leave my bed, I didn’t eat or drink until they had to force me too. That was the worst week I had to spend in that place.
         Bulimia. That was Brookes illness. Her ex-boyfriend of two years was the cause of hers. Repeatedly he would call her fat, say that she was too big for his taste and that he would never marry a ‘fat girl’ and that she was only there until he found someone better. Too fit his needs she forced herself into the illness until she couldn’t live without it. She had been suffering from it for nine years before her sister forced her to check into the Center.
         I still cringe at the memories of her at night, I could hear her in the bathroom forcing up anything she could from the day. Night time was the only time she could, any other time she wanted to go to the bathroom a nurse would accompany her. That is something I could never do, force myself to vomit. I was too much of a coward, I took the easy way out. I was easily found out, it’s hard not to notice when someone just stops eating. But vomiting. Unless if you spy on them by pressing your ear to the bathroom door you’d never know.
         ‘Splash’ I looked down to find my foot making it’s new home in an ankle deep puddle. I rolled my eyes and nodded my head up towards the sky. “Thanks” I said snidely, as if I was talking to someone in the trees, or to someone who ‘forced’ the puddle to move there right when I set my foot down. God. If anyone had been the cause of this, the cause of my outing, it’d be him. He had control over the world, over people. So why would he let something so horrible happen to a person. Had I been bad in his eyes and needed to be punished so he put the idea that I was fat into my mind. Put the idea that I was all alone in the world that no one would understand me. “If I wasn’t alone before, I am most definitely am now.”
         From up ahead I could hear taps being played, sniffling and a few coughs here and there. Wrapping my arms around my middle I kept a steady pace up the hill. A group of men and women stood in a circle under black umbrellas. Some women dabbed they’re eyes while others stood there, expressions as cold as stone. It’s a shock when someone dies unexpectedly, not when they have a disease. But everyone dies. Leaning up against a tree I kept my distance from the group, I just stood there waiting for it to end. Last thing I wanted to feel like was an intruder, best thing to do was wait it out.
         A younger girl broke from the group and ran towards me, quickly I moved behind the tree hoping she wouldn’t see. Glancing back around the tree I saw people look after her, but no one dared to move, to go and comfort her. My eyes fell back onto the girl as she let out a sharp cry then kicked a tree. Tears invaded my eyes as I watched her fall apart just like I had many times before. Blinking, I forced them back until I felt like I was about to choke.
         Inaudibly, I made my way towards her as she crumpled onto the ground, bringing her knees to her chest. She didn’t move, for a second I thought she even stopped breathing. “She didn’t deserve to die” the girl croaked, suddenly looking up at me.
         She looked a bit older than me, but no more than few years. Her black hair was once pinned neatly back, but due to her fit most of it fell out of place. Her green eyes were large and glassy as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. A small gasp broke past my lips. Brooke. That’s who she reminded me of, only she was a bit paler and a scare on her left cheek told me otherwise.
         I felt my heart fall a little as the tears threatened my eyes again. “I know” I replied, my voice cracking a little. I wasn’t good at comforting people, I knew it. But I couldn’t leave her there alone to deal with such pain. I hated the feeling of being alone and if I could help someone not feel that way, then I was going to try.
         “How are you? You’re okay, right?” she asked randomly as she sniffed.
         I looked into her eyes for a second in shock and a lump formed in my throat. I nodded my head slowly. “Yes, I-I’m fine” I replied and turned away. She wasn’t talking about my illness, but of the death. I let out a fake cough to block the pain from showing in any form.
         From the group a phone sounded off, it screaming ‘Get down with the sickness’ as the teenager hurried to find her phone in her purse and silence it. I rolled my eyes skyward sighing in annoyance. “Some people are just rude. You’d think they’d silence those things before they came” I murmured.
         A small laugh escaped her and she nodded. “I know right. Some people just don’t carry the gift of ‘common courtesy.’” Wiping her eyes hurriedly she looked back at me, her running black make-up forming a small mask around her eyes and over the bridge of her nose making her look like a raccoon. A small smile flickered across my face. “I smeared it didn’t I?” she asked digging in her purse and pulled out a mirror and tissue.
         “Just a bit. You should have really gone with the waterproof stuff.” I joked, then laughed as she licked her tissue and began her best to wipe it.
         “A bit?” she said astounded. “I look like I’m ready to rob a bank!”
         “Or make a new family with some raccoons.” I offered causing her to giggle.
         Moving her mirror down she snapped it shut and zipped up her purse. “Well the damage is done with the make-up. This is the best I could get it” she huffed.
         “It doesn’t look bad. At least you don’t look like her” I said, pointing to the teenage girl who’s phone went off. Her hair short and spiky with blue and green streaks throughout her normal blonde, her skirt was orange and way too short for any function with neon green fishnet leggings underneath, and her shirt had a name of a band on it, Fall Out Boy. “How her mother could let her leave the house like that baffles me, she looks like someone in the-if you could be anymore disrespectful” I said angrily as her phone went off again and she pulled it out and answered it. All I could do was shake my head in disbelief as she let out a loud witch cackle while telling her friend she was at a funeral.
         “If I was her mother I’d snap that phone right in half” she grumbled as she unsteadily got to her feet.
         I looked over at her cautiously. I waited for her to march over to the teenager and snatch the phone away and toss it into the nearby pond. I half wished she would do it too. I followed suit and raised myself. I was less than a foot taller than her, but without my heals I was sure I was shorter. Quickly I glanced into her green eyes. Pain. That’s all that existed there. “You know you couldn’t have stopped this from happening. It isn’t your fault” I said softly.
         She shook her head and swallowed hard. “No, I could have stopped it. I should have paid more attention.”
         I wanted to protest with her, wanted to make her see that it wasn’t her fault that she doesn’t have control over things like death. My lips opened to make an effort, but no words formed. I knew her mind was set and she’d be blaming herself for the rest of her life.
         A breeze blew past us, my hair whipping around my frail face, as some of the older trees creaked under the heavy weight of their limbs. Looking back up at the group people began to depart. Biting on my lower lip I hung my head. “Just remember, life is beautiful. You blame yourself and everything will pass you by” I sent her a weak smile and we began walking up the hill.
         Quickly I dug into my purse I pulled out a pen and a scrap piece of paper. Flipping it over, I scribbled down my name and number. “Call me if you ever need someone to talk with. We could get together, have coffee or shop. Shopping always makes me feel better”
         She smiled appreciatively and nodded as tears glazed over her eyes. “Thanks…Alana” she replied, then looked up at me with wide eyes, as if recognizing me as a long lost friend of hers.
Looking around anxiously I hurried away from her and up towards the grave site, plucking a white flower out of the ground as I did. I could still feel her eyes on me for a moment. When I glanced back she turned and walked away.
         Taking in a deep breath I took the last remaining steps up. My legs felt like dead weight, my heart tightened as I looked down at the gave stone. My eyes began to burn and a large lump formed in my throat as I began to read aloud. “In loving memory of our beloved daughter. Brooke Winters. Birth: July 31, 1987. Death: April 16, 2008.” My words hung heavily in the air as the rain began to fall harder around me. I looked over at the coffin that hadn’t been lowered yet. Lightly I placed my hand on it as my lips trembled. “Why didn’t you come to me Brooke? I could have helped you,” I whispered. Tears streamed down my face. I was happy when cold rain began to pelt against my face, no one would know if I was crying or not.
         “Even all their efforts at the center she feel back to her old way, back to the bulimia.” A voice came from behind me. I spun and looked at her, the girl from before. “Her heart quit on her while she was working out.” Her lips formed into a thin line as a ghostly expression crossed her face. “She asked me to go with her that day. I told her I had better things to do, now I wonder if I had gone would she still be alive. I should have known she was bulimic again. I should have seen the signs.”
         “It’s hard to stop, any of it. Bulimia. Anorexia. The treatments help, but only while your there. Once as they release you the rest is up to you. And if you don‘t have it in yourself to stop, then your doomed from the second you walk out of the treatment center.” My words are cold, though I don’t intended for them to come out that way. I twisted my fingers nervously as a clap of thunder shook the ground.
         “She slipped. She was fine for the first two months she was out. Then someone made the mistake of saying she put in weight and she fell back into it all”
         “Idiots” I muttered.
         She nodded her head in agreement. “I know, right. No one thinks before they speak anymore. No one considers others feelings” Her eyes met with mine, her expression hard to read. “You’re okay right?” She asked again. “You’re not…back to being you know-”
         “Anorexic?” I say finishing her thoughts and she nods again. “No. I’m fine” I feel the lie push itself through my teeth and I look away ashamed. I can feel myself beginning to break and I hate myself for it, knowing it’s a sign of weakness.
         “You’ll make it. Just don’t give up on yourself.” She said softly then extended her hand out. “I’m Jessica. But call me Jessie”
         “You’re her twin?” I ask, trying to sound shocked even though I knew who she was. Brooke talked about her all the time. Her side of the room was filled with pictures of them together. Her eyes softened as she nodded again. “I’m sorry” I say quietly as I set the white flower onto of the coffin.
         “I’m sorry too.” A flash of lightning fills the sky quickly followed by the clap of thunder, causing us both to jump. “I bet that’s Brooke’s doing right there” Jessica said with a laugh.
         I laughed as well, knowing she was probably right. “Yeah, she’s telling us to get out of here before we catch a cold or something” I say.
         “You want to grab some coffee?” Jessica asks suddenly. “I know this great little shop with the best cinnamon rolls.” she added trying to lure me in.
         “I don’t know…I ate before I-” I start to lie but stop and look wide eyed as another flash of lightning hit the ground juts a few yards away from us. I look at the coffin where Brooke lies peacefully then back towards where the lightning struck and smile.
         “She knows your lying” Jessica laughed, looking up at the gray sky with a wicked grin.
         A smile slides over my face as I look up as well. “The day she left the center she said she’d always look after me, looks like she’s kept true to her word” I say as my vision blurs with tears. “So you say these are the best cinnamon rolls huh?”
         “The absolute best!”
         “Well I‘m game. Lets go.” I say and look back down at her. I take in another deep breath as we walk down the hill, the air entering my lungs seeming cleaner. I feel as if a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I now know I am not alone.