The Sky Between You and Me

by Catherine Alene

  But Taryn doesn’t seem to mind

  She simply stands

  Walks across the room

  To a small oak table

  Where two ceramic mugs

  Wait to be filled

  Taryn trades me the clipboard for a mug

  The weight feels good in my palms

  The heat of the tea

  Peppermint

  Loosens my throat

  Not that I’m ready to talk

  Taryn sits back down

  “This feels odd, doesn’t it?”

  I shrug

  Knowing

  Guessing it would be rude to say

  Yes

  “Maybe I should tell you a little about who I am and what I do.”

  Sure

  I say

  Because as long as she is

  I won’t have to

  Talk

  Fifty Minutes

  We make a T-chart

  Taryn and I

  Like we do in school

  Only this one is

  Different

  On the left is a list

  Of the things my eating disorder gives me

  On the right is a list

  Of the things it has taken

  From me

  The words that fill the left side

  Are easy to come up with

  Pride

  Control

  Power

  Strength

  Thin, thinner, thin

  Never thin

  Enough

  I only come up with one word

  For the other side

  Lonely

  Maybe it is

  Enough

  Awkward Silence

  Dad and I hide

  Behind the music

  Filling the truck

  Neither of us sing along

  Like we usually do

  When the radio plays

  Our favorite

  Song

  We’re out of the city

  Halfway home

  Before he finally asks

  “How was it?”

  Fine, I say.

  Because it was

  “Are we going back again?”

  Because it was my choice

  He said it would be

  As long as I gave it a try

  Just once

  That’s all he’d asked

  His knuckles are white

  Against the black

  Of the steering wheel

  I know there is a right answer

  To this question

  I can’t let my dad—my dog—my friends

  Down again

  Can’t make it up to them

  Everything that I’ve done

  Wrong

  But at least I can do this

  For my dad

  I guess.

  “Because you don’t—”

  No. I want to.

  I wrap my arm around Blue

  Give his chest a scratch

  That melts him across my lap

  Tickle him under his arm

  Set his hind leg kicking

  Against Dad’s hip

  Knocking a smile loose

  Onto his lips

  Like only a dog’s paw

  Can do

  If You Are, Am I?

  “What do you think…”

  I’m not sure which picture

  Asia’s talking about

  When she lobs the question

  Across the room

  Into my lap

  I look up

  Checking to see what page she is on

  Because we’re sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor

  Looking at our new yearbooks

  Which picture are you looking at?

  “I’m not,” she says

  Letting her yearbook fall closed in her lap

  “I mean, what do you think when you look at me?”

  I’m confused

  Because she looks perfect

  Like she always does

  Even when she’s not trying

  Leaning against her bed in a soft pink shirt

  Jeans with holes in the knees

  Her hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail

  Looking twice as good as I ever could

  Even if I tried

  “I’m just asking, because you think you’re fat, right?”

  No, I—

  “Sure you do, otherwise you wouldn’t have lost all that weight.”

  My thoughts tangle with the words in my throat

  Making a knot

  Heavy and hard

  “I mean, do you feel disgusted when you look at me?”

  In this moment

  I get what’s on the other side of this question

  It’s the way her eyes fall to her hands

  Her knees come up to her chest

  Turning her into a little girl

  One who looks at herself in the mirror

  Wanting to see more

  Less

  Someone

  Something

  Different

  Than what she sees

  Asia, you’re perfect.

  “That’s what my mom always says.”

  A paper smile

  Pale and thin

  But you are. I’m not just saying that because you’re my best friend.

  “Good answer.”

  Asia reaches behind her

  Grabs a pillow from her bed

  Hurls it into my chest

  Vulnerable girl gone

  “Keep going,” she says.

  You’re like a princess, I say.

  “Like?”

  You are a princess, I say.

  Starting to laugh

  Asia grabs a second pillow from her bed and cocks her arm

  “Keep going.”

  Perfect in every way.

  Asia puts the pillow down and sighs

  “You’ve always been so tiny. I must seem—”

  Like the best friend I could have ever asked for.

  I mean it when I say it

  Asia opens her yearbook again

  Engrossed in the pictures

  Of a team

  Not even caring which one

  And in the silence I know

  My answer wasn’t right

  I wish I could explain

  What it was

  Is like

  Fingers counting the bones

  That were becoming

  Me

  That I could feel

  But couldn’t see

  Because my body was

  Is pieces

  Jigsaw pieces that won’t

  Can’t

  Ever fit together

  Because one was too big

  Another just odd

  I never judge anyone else because

  There is no comparison

  Everyone was

  Is smaller than me

  Fiction or fact

  It didn’t

  Doesn’t matter

  Because all I see

  Is me

  Asia closes the yearbook and tosses it onto the bed

  “You can talk to me, you know. I just want to understand.”

  So do I

  I think

  Peering across the hole that’s between us

  “Just try.”

  And I do

  With splintered sentences

  I begin to build a bridge

  That isn’t st
rong

  Not now

  But trusting

  Knowing

  That this is the only way

  I’ll be able to make this wrong

  Into something

  Close

  To right

  I owe it to Asia

  And maybe I owe it

  To me

  Cody Says

  “You’re so lucky,

  being able to eat

  whatever you want.”

  I stare at the Tupperware container of trail mix

  On the lunch table

  In front of me

  Ignoring the bag with the sandwich (a whole not a half) and fruit

  Because really

  He hates it

  When girls

  Don’t

  Eat

  I’m listening

  But not really

  Because there are chocolate chips in the trail mix

  Which just won’t work

  I pluck them out

  One by one

  Lining them up

  Single file

  On the Tupperware lid

  Asia stopped listening

  When the chocolate chips got in line

  Reaches right through the middle of Cody’s monologue

  And calls them out

  Those chocolate chips

  So quiet and serene

  She scoops them up

  Pours them back

  Into the trail mix

  Cody leans across the table

  Grabs a handful

  Heavy on the chocolate I was trying to avoid

  Tosses it into his mouth

  Ignoring the death ray Asia shoots at him

  With her eyes

  Getting so thin

  Isn’t attractive

  Nobody

  Likes to hug

  A skeleton

  He says as he chews

  Cody says

  He never wanted to say this

  Not when I was

  Sick

  Was sick

  Means

  Is well

  I’m not sure

  If that’s

  Right

  The well part

  Not yet

  Anyway

  Culpable

  It’s not

  My fault

  According to Dad

  Dr. Larsen

  Asia

  But I sit on my lies

  The ones I told

  That no one saw

  Not even

  Especially not

  Dad

  And I know

  Beyond a doubt

  That it was

  Is

  My fault

  When I asked Asia

  How she knew

  She showed me a book

  About eating disorders

  Not about me

  Because that’s what she’d learned

  I didn’t choose to have an eating disorder

  I was

  And am

  More

  Than this disease

  Which makes me sad

  In a way

  Because if I’m not that

  Then

  What?

  Which is sick

  Sad

  To miss this eating disorder

  Like a friend

  Though it is trying to kill me

  This is the part I can never tell

  Because it is

  The worst lie

  Of all

  When I say I don’t

  Won’t

  Miss it at all

  This disease that broke

  So many people

  I love

  Change

  “We should do something

  With your mom’s room.”

  It was yours too.

  I say

  Because it was

  Theirs

  Not just hers

  A lot like her

  Life

  Like what?

  Dad shrugs

  “I don’t know. What would she—what would you—like?”

  I look at the picture on the wall behind the kitchen table

  Of the three of us

  One of the only professional photos we ever had taken

  Dad and I are smiling into the camera

  But Mom

  She’s looking only at us

  Happy

  This picture makes me realize that they are one and the same

  Whatever it is we—Dad and I—would like

  Is what she would have wanted

  It feels simpler

  Easier

  Thinking about it

  That way

  But the question still seems big

  Heavy

  Somehow

  Dad pulls out the blender

  Tosses in ice cream and berries

  A splash of milk

  Whhhhirrrrrr

  This is the deal

  He makes it

  I eat it

  No questions

  Asked

  This doesn’t make me mad

  Not like it used to

  It feels easier

  Not making the rules myself

  “For you, my dear.”

  Dad sets the milkshake down

  One for me

  The other for him

  He slides into the chair across from me

  “We don’t have to decide now. I just thought it was time.”

  I think about their room

  About my mom

  The way it felt when she hugged me

  Before her arms became so thin

  Her eyes grew too big

  For her face

  Thinking about this

  Around this

  I stare into my mug

  And the numbers begin to stack

  I can feel them in my chest

  Heavy and slick

  A domino tips

  A cup of milk—another of berries—120 plus 60—which doesn’t even include the ice cream—which makes another 250—which is fine—this is fine—until my stomach begins to hurt from being so full though I haven’t even taken a drink—not a drink but a bite—I need a spoon because I hate the feel of the ice cream on my top lip

  So I walk

  To the silverware drawer

  “Will you grab me one too?” Dad asks.

  Not noticing

  The way the thoughts

  Railroading through my mind have

  Left my hands shaking

  Sure.

  It’s not a problem

  Eating this shake

  I remind myself of this as I hand

  Dad his spoon

  And sit

  Back down

  “There’s no rush. Something to think about,” Dad repeats.

  But it makes me nervous

  This change

  Dad has proposed

  Now that it’s out there

  It seems like we should do something

  Now

  And whatever that is

  It has to be

  Right

  I’m not sure what we should do.

  My voice is in a hurry

  With the room, I mean.

  “We can try out a few ideas and, if they don’t work, we can try something else.”

  Dad dips his spoon into his shake

  Takes a bite

  He doesn’t even think
about it

  The calories

  fat

  grams of sugar

  carbs

  I wonder if

  When

  I’ll be able to do that

  Maybe someday

  One day

  Just not today

  I stab at a glob of ice cream

  Floating in my shake

  Maybe that’s the secret

  Knowing the answer

  Doesn’t have to be perfect

  Even when it comes

  Rude Awakening

  My sheets choked me awake

  Tangled around my torso

  Knotted at my knees

  Blankets at my feet

  Pajamas soaked

  Wet through

  With sweat

  Last night

  I thought it was the dream

  The bad dream

  I’d had

  The one where I slid through a pond

  Shallow enough to fill my eyes

  Deep enough to cover my toes

  So deep

  I couldn’t breathe

  It happened again

  An hour later

  There was no dream this time

  Just the waking up

  The sweating

  Through the clean pajamas I put on

  After I woke

  Up

  The first time

  I’m thinking about those wet pajamas

  Balled at the bottom of my hamper

  As I stand in the middle of the school library

  I didn’t know who to ask about

  Something so embarrassing

  So I thought I’d look

  Here

  The computers are full

  My goal was to slip into one of the orange plastic chairs

  In front of an anonymous screen

  That wouldn’t giggle

  Couldn’t joke

  About my situation

  Knowledge base

  Zero

  But now that I’m standing

  Between these shelves of books

  That smell like dust

  I don’t know where to look

  A journal

  A book

  “Good morning, Raesha!”

  I spin around

  Caught

  In the middle of what?

  Miss Pattinson pushes a cart of books up the aisle

  Good morning.

  “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. AP History. Final paper.”

  I can feel my cheeks flush pink

  If only

  Yes. I haven’t even started.

  “You and everyone else it seems.”

  Miss Pattinson pushes her cat-eye glasses off her nose

  As she tips her head toward the entrance

  “There’s a whole cart of books I pulled for your class by the circulation desk.”

  Thank you.

  The warning bell bleats

  Five minutes until class

  Which is fine

  I’ll go