What I Lost

by Alexandra Ballard

  I shook my head. “I’m fine.” Except that I am about to eat a freaking turkey melt! For the next ten minutes I waited for Elaine to come back, to ask how we were doing—if we needed anything—so I could change my order. But she never did. Right when I’d decided to screw it all and go find her, she appeared, carrying our food. I thought I might be sick.

  She put mine down, the plate smacking heavily on the wood table. I stared at it, horrified. On two of the thickest pieces of toasted, buttered bread I’d ever seen sat a mound of turkey buried under a massive mountain of melted orange cheese, steaming hot yet already coagulating at the top. Peeking out of the corners were pieces of avocado and bacon. Mayonnaise oozed out between the layers. I had to eat half of this? Half a sandwich this size was probably more than I ate in a day, and I’d already eaten breakfast and lunch and two snacks.

  More people were coming to the restaurant now. Each time the door opened, I worried I might see someone I knew. The buzz of voices drowned out the music, which the owners had turned back up. I watched Jean chew a bite of her burger to paste. I tore my eyes away from her and mustered up the courage to take a bite myself.

  The cheese and mayonnaise exploded in my mouth and made my lips feel like they’d been attacked by a can of cooking spray. The avocado was brown and tasted weird and stuck to the top of my mouth, making me gag. I could barely choke it down.

  The only bright spot was the bacon, which was hot and crispy and salty. I hadn’t had bacon in over a year. My entire body wanted more of it after only one bite.

  Well, it wasn’t getting any.

  I kept my eyes on my plate while I chewed. When I looked up, I almost didn’t believe what I saw. Heather was here with her family. I choked a little. Nurse Jill slid me my water glass.

  Heather hadn’t noticed me yet, probably because we were so far in the back that even the lights had trouble finding us. She checked out the other tables with minimal interest, twirling her blond hair, chewing gum, and looking incredibly bored. I froze as her gaze came closer to where we were. I slouched down in my seat as low as I could, but it was too late. Our eyes met. Hers widened.

  I tried to not look at her and focused on my food instead. My sense of time became measured by the bites I took. I tore through the turkey with my teeth and licked the mayo off my lips with my tongue. And then I chewed. And chewed and chewed and chewed.

  Six bites in, I was sure I looked like this python I saw in a YouTube video once that ate a dog. You could see the entire outline and shape of the dog under the python’s skin, and that’s what I pictured my stomach looked like, except the bulge was shaped like a massive sandwich. I could feel my yoga pants stretch. Seven bites in, I saw a waiter put an order of chicken nuggets down in front of Heather. They had to be off the kids’ menu, and if my jaw hadn’t been aching and my stomach hadn’t been distended and resting on my thighs, I would have relished that moment.

  At bite eight, Jean touched my shoulder. “You okay?” she whispered.

  I shrugged. She nodded. “Hang in there, friend. It’s almost over.”

  After thirteen bites, or precisely half my meal, I put down my fork. I could stop now.

  When the bill came a few minutes later, Nurse Jill picked it up. “Don’t worry, girls,” she said. “It’s on me!”

  Jean and I stood up at the same time, thinking the same thing: Let’s get the hell out of here.

  Heather and her family had moved on to dessert and now, eating a fruit cup, she watched us like we were a TV show.

  “Take a seat, girls,” Nurse Jill said. “We aren’t quite done yet. I’d like to do meal support here, before we leave.” Right then the music cut out for a moment. I swear the entire restaurant heard her say, “How are you processing your meals?”

  I saw Heather’s head snap up. She scooted her chair a little closer. She’d heard.

  “Elizabeth, how are you doing?”

  I gulped. “Um … great. Ready to go, actually.”

  Nurse Jill scrutinized me. “Really? I know that according to the notes Sally gave me, you were planning on having a roasted turkey sandwich. How did you deal with the menu change?”

  “Fine.” We didn’t have time for me to be a teachable moment for Nurse Jill.

  Heather’s eyes followed our every move. I don’t think she even blinked.

  The only way to get out of there was to play along.

  “Um, well, I knew that turkey is healthy protein, so I looked for something that had turkey in it. Obviously, the turkey melt had turkey so I ordered that.” Heather’s dad asked her a question, and for a second, she was distracted. Please leave, I silently begged. Please be telling her that it’s time to go. They needed to exit first. Or we did. We just couldn’t all get up at the same time.

  “Yes, flexibility is important. Well done, Elizabeth.”

  I nodded.

  “And, Jean, how was your meal?”

  “Actually, aside from the buttered bun, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

  I tuned out again and scanned the room super fast to make sure I hadn’t missed any other familiar faces. Thankfully, it was a slow night. Many of the tables were empty, and I didn’t know the people sitting at the others.

  “Well, you two, thanks for a successful dinner. Let’s head back.” I leaped up from the table. Jean stood up, too, and started putting on her coat.

  So did Heather’s family.

  “Um, excuse me?” I said, sitting back down.

  “Yes, Elizabeth,” said Nurse Jill as she pushed her right arm into her coat.

  “You know what? I think I do need more support. The cheese was, um, really greasy and I am panicking right now.”

  “Well, let’s go to the van and we can talk there,” Nurse Jill said, reaching over and patting my arm.

  Heather’s family was standing. They pushed in their chairs and began walking to the door.

  “Wait! Nurse Jill! I think I lost a button!”

  Now she looked annoyed. “What, Elizabeth? What button?”

  “A button from my coat. I’m pretty sure it rolled under the table.”

  Nurse Jill sighed. “Okay, let’s look for Elizabeth’s button.” Dutifully, Jean squatted down and studied the dark floor. It felt like the entire restaurant was staring at us now. I didn’t care as long as Heather kept walking toward the door.

  But then she turned around.

  Heather’s eyes met mine. She walked over.

  “How are you doing, Elizabeth?” Her voice was just as I remembered—loud and raspy.

  “Great, Heather. Just great. You know, well, as you can see, I’m out to dinner. I had the turkey melt. It was delish. I recommend it.” The words poured out of me like water from a broken faucet. “How were the chicken nuggets? I used to get them from the kids’ menu, too. When I was actually a kid.”

  She flushed. Score one for me!

  She recovered fast. “Everyone at school,” she said, narrowing her eyes just the tiniest bit, “will be so happy I saw you.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Say hi for me.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.”

  Jean crawled out and apologized. She had breadcrumbs stuck to her knee. “Sorry, Elizabeth, I couldn’t find it.”

  “That’s okay,” I said.

  Heather stuck out her hand to Jean. “I’m Heather. And you are?”

  Usually when I looked at Jean I saw how her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. I saw how gentle and kind she was every time she talked to me, how she often put a reassuring hand on my arm. But in that moment I saw her through Heather’s eyes. She looked like a giraffe. She was tall and awkward and gaunt even though she’d gained weight.

  “This is Jean,” I said haltingly.

  Jean smiled. She had no idea.

  “Hi, Jean!” Heather said brightly.

  “Hi.” Jean zipped up her jacket.

  Please make this end, I thought. Right now.

  “Would you guys like me to take your picture?” Heather
held up her phone.

  Oh no. Oh no no no no no no.

  Jean shook her head. “No, I don—”

  “No!” I put my hand up. “I don’t think we—”

  “Say cheese!” Heather snapped a photo.

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

  Before she’d even gotten to the door, the phone screen illuminated her face. “I’ll tell everyone I saw you!” Heather called back to me.

  That was exactly what I was afraid of.

  39

  When I knocked on Mary’s office door before breakfast the next morning, she probably thought I wanted to chat about the menu change. She told me I’d handled the “challenging night” very well, which was nice of her, but I wanted to talk about something else. “I ran into someone at dinner last night.”

  Mary leaned over her desk. “Yes, Nurse Jill mentioned that you saw a friend from school there.”

  “She is not a friend,” I said, my voice flat. “She is the opposite of a friend. More like a nightmare. It was Heather, the girl from school I’ve told you about before.”

  Mary remained calm. “I can imagine that running into someone from home could be upsetting in a situation like this.” She obviously had no idea how bad this was.

  “She pulled out her phone and took our picture. When she left she was typing like crazy fast, probably sending that picture to everyone at school.”

  “I wonder if seeing her is bringing up feelings for you about transitioning home?”

  Why did Mary ask such obvious questions? “Well, yes. Of course it does. I can’t go home.”

  “So, Elizabeth, let’s talk about Heather for a minute. I’m curious: What would you do if you saw her right now?”

  “I’d avoid her.”

  “Okay,” Mary said. “You could also lean on your friends a little to help you. You have good friends, and you can use them, you know.”

  “Friends? What friends? My friends have completely blown me off. Katrina is the only one who has called or visited.”

  Mary put on what I thought of as her sad face. She would scrunch her eyebrows together, pinch her lips tight, tilt her head, and nod. “You know, sometimes people don’t know how to react to a certain situation. There could be many reasons your friends haven’t called.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, sometimes they might be scared. It is incredibly hard to watch someone you care about suffer. Other times I’ve had patients for whom something like this touches on their own fears for themselves. I’ve also seen friends and family members who, if they haven’t had experience with the illness, have trouble understanding it and therefore avoid it. And other times, they are just busy, or are dealing with issues in their own lives.”

  “Do you think that’s why Priya and Shay have ignored me?”

  “I don’t know, Elizabeth. Maybe you’ll have to ask them. We can work on how to do that as we get you ready for your discharge.”

  My discharge. Using that word made me think of bodily fluid, and at that moment, going home sounded just about as appealing.

  40

  Mary was right. I still had friends—correction—a friend. Katrina. She could help me.

  She answered on the second ring. “Hello?” I said.

  “Hey, stranger!” Katrina’s voice jumped through the line.

  “K! I am so glad you picked up the phone.” It was ten in the morning. I must have caught her at study hall. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Just studying.”

  Ha! I knew it!

  Before I could say another word, Katrina jumped in. “Mr. Roberts quit!” Mr. Roberts was our AP US History teacher. “He’s going to be a fly fisherman in Georgia.”

  “Seriously? A fly fisherman? What is that?”

  “I have no idea. Apparently he met some lady online and he’s going to move to Atlanta with her.”

  “Yikes. Really?” I tried to muster up the expected enthusiasm.

  “I know, right? Who would want to be with him?”

  The idea was nauseating. Picturing Mr. Roberts kissing a woman was even more alarming than the fact that he taught with his hand down the back of his pants like his butt was a pocket.

  “So who is his sub?”

  “Oh my God, Elizabeth, he’s twenty-two. One of the girls in class asked him. All the girls flirt with him. He’s shockingly hot. His name is Mr. Shaw, but he told us to call him Tom. We watched The Simpsons in class the other day.”

  “Wow.” I tried to sound appropriately excited. I wished I cared more. I couldn’t believe all this school stuff would be important to me again, too.

  “I know!” Katrina said, and then she paused.

  “Anything else happening?”

  Another long pause. Too long.

  “Katrina, tell me.” I steeled myself.

  She hesitated again. “It’s not good, Elizabeth. I don’t want to upset you. Are you sure you want me to tell you?”

  “I think I might already know. Does any of this have to do with Finch’s?”

  “Maybe.” Katrina didn’t say anything else.

  “I ran into Heather there and she took a picture of this other girl and me. I assume she’s done something horrible with it.”

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. It’s pretty harsh. God, I hate her.”

  “I do, too. Did she show it to you?”

  “She posted it online.”

  “What site did she post it on?”

  “All of them, Elizabeth.”

  “Oh.” I needed to sit.

  If it was everywhere, anyone could see it. Anyone.

  I couldn’t go home tomorrow.

  As I hung up the phone, Tristan and Simone walked into the foyer. Simone walked right past me, shooting me a sympathetic look. Obviously she knew.

  Tristan stood nearby, kicking at a speck on the floor and looking everywhere except at me. “Hey, Tristan,” I said, hoping my voice sounded normal. “Thank you for the mix.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, still avoiding my eyes.

  “Anyway, I love it. I’ve listened to it so much. It really does cheer me up.”

  He smiled a little. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I’m sorry I got so mad the other day. I overreacted.” I sat on the bench.

  He sat next to me. “Nah, I probably should have left you alone.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  He looked relieved. “Really?”

  I nodded.

  “Hey, can I get your number?” Tristan pulled out his phone. “So I can call you when you’re out?”

  I nodded. He handed me his phone and I made a contact for myself.

  I handed it back and we sat for a moment in silence before he said, “So … have you talked to anybody from school today?”

  “Are you talking about the picture?”

  His body stiffened. “You know?”

  “Katrina told me. Is it bad?”

  “Pretty bad.”

  “They don’t let us online in here. I wish I could, though.”

  “I don’t know about that. Maybe it’s for the best.”

  I was sick of everybody trying to protect me. I had anorexia, not wimporexia, for God’s sake. “Tristan, you follow Heather on Instagram, right?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

  “Will you show me the picture?”

  He took a deep breath and exhaled, making his cheeks puff. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He put his phone in his pocket.

  “Tristan,” the voice came from behind me. Simone was back. I turned. “Show her the picture. She has a right to know.” Her face was makeup-free. I’d never seen her without eyeliner before. She looked younger and softer and not as scary.

  “I thought you went inside,” he said.

  Simone stepped next to me, arms crossed. “I forgot my sweater. And it’s her photo. Show her.”

  “Don’t order me around. And no. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Si
mone rolled her eyes. “Tristan, she’s going to see it eventually, and isn’t it better that she sees it here, where there’s doctors and counselors everywhere?”

  “Hey!” I wasn’t their little sister, but they were treating me like one. “Hello? I’m right here? Tristan, I need to know what I’m dealing with. If I don’t see it on your phone, I’ll find some other way, and I’d rather watch”—and here I paused, because I still wasn’t sure what Tristan and Simone and I were to each other—“with friends.”

  With one last glare at his sister, he took the phone out of his pocket. “Fine.”

  I stood too and looked around. The nurses’ station was empty. My hands twitched as I watched him scroll through the posts, stop, read something, frown, scroll more, frown more.

  “Look, people are assholes,” he said. “I think that might be all you need to know.”

  “God, Tristan! Just give it to her, already!”

  Thank you, Simone.

  “Fine!” Tristan shoved the phone at me.

  And there I was. The photo caption read, Skelorexics out to eat. The too-bright flash gave Jean and me red-eye. Jean’s collarbone peeking through the V of her shirt was so distinct it almost looked like there was no skin covering it at all. The phone’s flash washed all color out of her face; she looked like a worried zombie.

  My mouth was half open, like I was saying something, and my eyes popped out of my head. My hand was up in protest, and each knuckle bulged out like knots in a tree. In the background Nurse Jill leaned over, fork in her mouth. She was taking a bite of Jean’s unfinished dinner.

  There were sixty-two comments.

  I read every single one. Tristan and Simone watched, the same wary expression on both of their faces.

  People I didn’t even know had posted comments, things like:

  nasty

  freaks

  eat something

  someone get them some fries

  this shit ain’t for human eyes

  now I can’t unsee this nightmare!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  And the worst: THEY SHOULD KILL THEMSELVES.

  I couldn’t breathe. How was I supposed to go back to school in four days with this out there?

  Halfway down the page was a post from Katrina: Leave them alone!!! People like you are the reason women today have so many issues with their bodies. A$$holes!