by Mark Green
“I tried, but he adored the new me. Wouldn’t let me forget how chubby I’d been though. I exercised more and ate less, until I was well past the point of being trim and healthy.”
I reached for more toilet roll and waited for her to continue as she dabbed her eyes and blew her streaming nose.
“I fought my weight issues for years. Seeing myself in a mirror made me feel worse. Anorexia is a horrible, debilitating, vicious disease. I was in hospital, painfully thin. At the lowest point of the illness, I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw. Hated what I’d done to myself. So I cut off my hair. My beautiful long hair that should have helped me to look attractive had failed me. I’d failed. Feeling how short my hair is now is a reminder of somewhere I never want to be again. Back then, I lost all perspective and at times, even the will to live. But then, the cruellest of miracles. I started to lose my sight, aggravated by the anorexia. I woke up one day and there were no more mirrors. None that I could see my reflection in.”
KT2 shook uncontrollably as she let go and sobbed her heart out. I pulled her towards me and held her as she cried and cried and cried.
* *
We sat there for a long time as she slowly calmed down.
“Was that when you met your husband?” I said, as delicately as I could, holding my breath as I waited for her to answer.
“No, I met Pete a year before. He helped me. I think he saw me as his personal crusade. Being a doctor, it probably went with the territory.”
I waited for her to continue, but she was lost in her thoughts.
“So what happened?” I asked.
“I started to go blind. But my weight was becoming less of an issue, so I wasn’t a challenge to him anymore. Not seeing made things so much clearer and I realised how stupid I’d been. I started to get better. I ate hearty meals and started running again, for fun, not to lose weight. I began to live.”
KT2 let out a big sigh and sank forwards, resting her elbows on her thighs. I sat back against the wall, my head spinning.
Bloody Hell.
* *
KT2
I felt completely exhausted. Where was Maria when I needed a friendly, understanding hug?
The silence hung there for a long, long time. Finally I heard movement. His feet shuffled on the floor, I heard his footsteps leave the bathroom. I can’t say I blamed him. It was one hell of a let’s get to know each other conversation.
* *
Me
I simply wasn’t equipped to deal with this. I paced back and forth across the bedroom, at a complete loss.
What to do?
How do you treat someone with anorexia? It’s one of the last taboos, trying to starve yourself to death, it just doesn’t sit right. I stopped pacing and stood there with my hands on my head, staring out of the window at Lake Titicaca, the inky water glistening in the moonlight.
But if she was a bit unstable, where did that leave me?
Wherever it was, I had to stop running away from difficult emotions. It was time to man up, or wimp out.
* *
KT2
I heard his soft footsteps pad back into the bathroom, felt him sink down onto the floor beside me.
“I wasn’t expecting you to come back...”
“Neither was I.”
I sat there wondering what to say. But there wasn’t anything left to say about me, it was all out there. Only time would tell how he’d react and he was here now, so it was a start.
“What about you?” I said quietly.
“Me?”
“Uh huh. That’s my skeleton well and truly kicked out of the closet. And if you don’t have any, then make something up, it will make me feel less of a nutter.”
* *
Me
I sat there without saying anything for a few minutes.
Baggage, piled high on the bathroom floor, was all I could think about.
She turned to face me, a prompt; your turn.
I took a deep breath.
It wasn’t that I was shutting her out, I just wasn’t sure if… Oh what the hell.
“I went through a tough time, after mum died and Kate Thornly the 1st dumped me. It’s insignificant compared to your issues…”
“Is it?”
Something about her tone of voice made me wonder if she knew, had already guessed. I lifted my eyes from the floor to see her still looking at me. I wondered how much of my features she could make out. I watched as she attempted to smile, a contrast to her red puffy eyes. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the screwed up e-mail from Kate Thornly the 1st.
I felt my heart rate jump up a notch as she opened up the crumpled paper.
“If I wasn’t blind, I’d have been tempted to read this. I guess you might want it back.”
She held the piece of paper. I took it from her hand and stared at the crumpled text.
“Do you love her?”
“I thought I did.”
“And now?”
I hesitated, flicking my eyes over the text.
“Now is different. But it seems wrong to moved on so quickly. Especially considering… ”
I thought back for a moment or two, wondering if I should leave things there, or carry on, get everything out into the open. The problem was, I wasn’t completely sure in my own mind what I’d intended that night.
“I won’t judge you,” she said softly.
I took a deep unsteady breath.
“I’m not totally sure what happened. I don’t want to label myself with something like that…”
She just smiled her sad smile and waited for me to continue.
“When Kate Thornly the 1st cheated on me, it was such a betrayal. Everything was planned out, for after the trip I mean. We’d come back and get married, move away from the city, then probably have kids. I was going to set up in business as a gardener, do some fancy landscape design stuff and enjoy being outside and away from a stuffy office. I was desperate to escape from the London treadmill and I saw all that dissolve when we split up. I hit a real low.”
I paused, wondering how much more to say.
“What was her reason?”
“She was fed up always having to nursemaid me.”
“Was it that difficult a job?”
“Maybe. I probably took her for granted, got complacent.”
“It happens.”
“Yes it does. I went a bit off the rails, drinking to excess. I ended up at a party, already pretty drunk. My friends humoured me because of the break-up. They didn’t stop me drinking, they thought it was part of the healing process. So I drank more. I have memory blanks, but I remember some pretty dark thoughts flashing through my head.”
“What sort of dark thoughts?”
I slumped back, resting my head against the wall.
“I’m not entirely sure. I had no one to watch over me anymore, tell me not to eat certain foods. I was angry and hurt that she’d cheated on me. I should have gone home, slept it off, but I stood in the corner brooding, drinking even more. None of my friends asked how I was holding up. Didn’t they care? I remember thinking that my life was worthless. I gave myself a hard time for being so reliant on Kate, but now she wasn’t around anymore, I wanted to punish her.”
Now I was struggling to speak. A lump started to swell in my throat, tears welled in my eyes. I fought the emotions back. I knew I needed to finish telling my story. I turned to face her.
“I ate something I shouldn’t have.”
“Deliberately?”
“Possibly. Yes.”
Tears ran down my cheeks. I stifled a tremble in my bottom lip. I felt her squeeze my shoulder again and we sat there quietly until I’d composed myself.
“I woke up the next morning in hospital and felt so stupid and ashamed.”
“Do you still feel low now?” she said.
I realised immediately what she was thinking.
“No. I haven’t since that day. Realising I’d tried to top myself brought me back to
reality. Don’t worry, I’m not a suicidal nutcase.”
Angel felt her way over to me and slipped her arm over my shoulder.
“Not yet. But give it another few weeks with me...”
I laughed, shook my head.
“And you thought you were the bonkers one,” I said.
Twenty Nine
KT2
We eventually went to bed, with little more said. I lay awake for some time after, wondering how mad he thought I was. I also thought about his story and wondered how I felt about him now.
Where on earth did we go from here?
It seemed like only a matter of minutes since we’d closed our eyes, when the alarm went off. I’d had some strange dreams and was a bit disorientated as I woke. I instinctively touched my hair, shocked again to find it so short. Then, I thought back and cringed as I recalled my confession.
A shudder ran up my spine and I felt sick. Before the uneasy feelings got a hold, I ran my hands over my body, reassuring myself that I could feel healthy curves. Thankfully those dark days of skin and bone were no more. I could hear Jonny breathing close by and was comforted by knowing I wasn’t alone, that he had a story too. To be honest, I’d half expected to find myself alone in bed. Perhaps he had the same pleasant surprise to find I was still here too.
“Don’t worry, shorter hair suits you,” Jonny said in a sleepy voice.
“Been awake long?”
“Mmm… mulling things over, quite a night. For both of us I mean,” he said, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah. That’s all my skeletons made homeless.”
“Mine too.”
We lay in silence. I’d been here once before, at that awkward but necessary stage where the past comes out and the other person makes their excuses and leaves.
“How are you this morning?” he asked in a tentative voice.
“Better. And you?”
“A bit too early to tell. You ready to hit the road?”
Jonny packed for us (which didn’t take long) while I freshened up. I was starting to get used to the feeling of air around my scalp, but I still felt a bit sad each time I ran fingers through what was left of my hair. But in a way it just added to the excitement of the next stage of our adventure.
We were ready to go in less than twenty minutes, sneaking out of the hotel room as quietly as we could in our new Bolivian clothing; a white embroidered blouse and a mustard-coloured alpaca wool smock for me and a blue and white stripy shirt for Jonny with a cream and brown alpaca fleece.
We walked downhill through the sleeping town, the cobbled stone backstreets and uneven pavement gradually giving way to rough tarmac and then compacted mud and gravel. We passed a rubbish tip because for a while I could smell rotting vegetation and household waste. After that we must have hit open country, I could sense the space around us.
Jonny had sketched the route of a day hike through Bolivian villages to Isla Del Sol, the ‘Island of the Sun,’ from a hotel guidebook. This really was off the beaten track and despite some uncertainty about how we felt following last night’s revelations, I found myself grinning as we trudged through muddy puddles away from Copacabana.
“I feel like a proper traveller Jonny,” I said, squeezing his hand.
He was quiet for a while as we walked, withdrawn.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, his serious tone of voice putting me on edge.
“Sure.”
“I was wondering if you mind me calling you KT2?”
We walked on for a bit as I thought about my answer. I had the feeling it was a slightly loaded question.
“Honestly?”
“Always.”
“Okay. Yeah, I do a bit. It feels like I’m in her shadow, a second-rate travel companion.”
“I wondered about that. I have to say I’m not that keen on being called Jonny. She used to call me that. It always sounded a bit patronising, a put-down.”
I nodded.
“I prefer Angel, if that’s cool with you,” I said, pleased with the way the conversation was heading. It was like a tentative fresh start. We’d both aired our dirty laundry and now it was time to try and move on.
“Completely cool,” he said, his voice lifting, no longer so cautious.
“What about you?”
“Anything but Jonny, if you don’t mind.”
I thought for a moment, then grinned.
“What about your initials, ‘JC’?
“Fantastic, The Angel Gabriel and Jesus Christ!”
We both chuckled.
And so it came to pass, we both had new nicknames…
* *
JC (aka Me)
The drizzle eased off during the morning and we gradually began stripping off waterproof and fleece layers as the sun warmed the air and we left the town behind us.
The real beauty of the route was that it followed the coast, giving us spectacular views out across the lake. It was a liberating feeling, walking away from the town along a route seldom used by westerners.
“Breathe in that fresh air Angel, isn’t it fantastic?”
“But surely you’re missing the London smog, the pollution of your people?” Angel said, unable to hide the amusement in her voice.
“Ah yes, my people. I think it’s time they made do without me for a while. After this trip I mean.”
We walked on, enjoying the morning, without any traffic noise.
“You been thinking about the future JC?”
“A bit. I can’t go back to that way of life. Not now. The scary thing is, I don’t know where the time has gone. I wish I’d done this years ago.”
“Guess we always regret the things we don’t do more than the things we do.”
“Definitely. What about you?”
“You know what, I’m taking one day at a time. I wasn’t even supposed to be here a couple of months ago. Life shouldn’t always be planned out in detail, it takes the surprise and spontaneity away.”
I found myself nodding. It was a subtle observation about my organising ways.
“I do tend to do that, don’t I. My job was very structured, safe. I’d like to try and be a bit more like you. Let things happen without trying to always control the outcome…”
“Ah, but I often have no structure to my life, so maybe we can learn from each other.”
“Maybe we can.”
* *
We walked on for another hour or so, then stopped by the side of the track to look out over patchwork fields. In the distance I could see local families working the land, with the sparkling backdrop of the lake beyond. We’d picked up a few bits of food the night before and I unpacked the cheese, cold meat and bread rolls. We ate this simple breakfast miles from any recognisable civilisation. This was an uncomplicated existence, almost like time had rolled back a hundred years.
“Thank you...” Angel said between mouthfuls of food.
I glanced across at her smiling face. Aside from her cute short red hair, she looked more relaxed, happier than I could remember.
“...For bringing me here, to this amazing place. And for not selling us out. You’re a good man.”
“That works both ways. You’ve opened my eyes Angel, helped me see a way out, but also a way in, to enjoying life more.”
“I hope you’re not going to try and convert me JC. Each to their own, but I’m a bit sketchy on the whole religion thing.”
I grinned.
“Perhaps we could make up our own religion.”
“The church of the peroxide blonde analyst and the blind fiery redhead? Not very catchy is it,” she said.
We walked on through several villages, past families cultivating their fields. Waving and calling out greetings in Spanish, we received gold-capped grins in return. We were passed by occasional villagers on bicycles or on foot and once by a farmer escorting his noisy sheep and reluctant pig, both of whom had rope ‘leads’ around the leg and didn’t seem to like each other very much!
After fifteen kilo
metres walking we were greeted by a Bolivian man perched against a building. He was holding a Spanish copy of the Lonely Planet Guide to Bolivia. He asked if we were going to Isla Del Sol in a mixture of Spanish and English and offered to take us in his boat for ninety Bolivianos, around nine pounds.
“What do you think?” I asked Angel.
“How much more walking does it say until we reach the normal tourist boat across?”
“Maybe five kilometres.”
“A longer boat ride from here sounds more adventurous...”
“And spontaneous,” I added, chuckling at myself. I had to admire this man’s resourcefulness — he’d probably spotted us coming a way off or, maybe someone had warned him potential trade was on its way.
* *
Angel (aka KT2)
The boat trip was hilarious!
I heard the voice of Javier, our excited boatman as we followed him through his small holding, which JC described as a tiny ‘farmhouse’ surrounded by fields on one side and a shallow reed-filled lake on the other. Chickens, a pig and goat roamed free in the yard. Our guide reappeared with a fuel container, while his wife nodded and smiled at us as she hurried past. JC explained how we were following the couple through the waist high reeds along a rickety wooden walkway. It led us towards a colourful wooden boat with ‘Tourismo’ lettering and ancient outboard engine, tied up in the reeds.
“But that’s not the best bit, Angel. He’s sent his wife to row out to the motor boat in a battered rowing boat. I can see her furiously bailing water out - we could be waiting here a while!”
Eventually, safely on board JC and I sat up front as we nudged out through the reeds and into open water. I felt the breeze on my cheeks as we picked up speed and grinned when occasional droplets of spray splashed across my face. This was the life. And then the boat spluttered to a halt! I heard a couple of tugs on the pull cord and it fired up for about thirty seconds, then died again. This carried on another nineteen times — I counted! In the end Javier gave up trying to fault find and rowed us to the island, another back breaking thirty minutes. I felt for the man, he was really having to earn his fare, but the sudden quiet was wonderful. I could hear water lapping at the side of the boat and the oily two stroke engine smell had disappeared, it was heaven. JC later told me that as our speed dropped without the engine, water started seeping in through joints in the wood planks. No wonder he’d gone a bit quiet, I thought he was just enjoying the silence!
