43 kg and Falling
I'm fine.
I sat waiting behind my book that I carried in my bag but never read, hiding behind the table at the coffee shop in Kobal street. Every day after college I waited there like a trashy bar girl waiting for drinks, but no one ever walked up to me with a nonchalant smile and bought me coffee. No one ever talked to me or said good morning or ever whistled at me. When people in public talked about me it was always muttered behind hands and in low whispers, accompanied by a stifled laugh.
I watched the waitress secretly from under my hair, she kept asking me if I was okay and I'd reply I'm fine. I wanted to tell her, I'm not okay, I'm pretty fucking close to the edge, lady, and if you could alert the police I'd be really grateful.
She had one of those sing-song voices that covered her psychological scars like her cheap make-up.
I could tell she was secretly depressed because a caged bird knows the song of their kin. Who wouldn't be depressed in this dump? On her name tag she had written, no doubt against a formal and restrictive restaurant policy,
Hi, I'm Amanda B, See?
in a flowery script. ABC, I patted myself on my back for getting her little act of creative rebellion.
She tripped over her feet and spilled food onto another customer, causing him to rise up and shout at her. I ignored the minor commotion and carried on looking out the window.
Ana's bracelet hugged my bony wrist, every time the waitress walked past carrying a plate of starch and fat I snapped the bracelet against my skin under the table.
It disturbed me how much food was wasted in the world, how full the plates were as they traveled back to the kitchen and the trash.
Across from me a woman was talking to her friend about how thin I was, acting like she was whispering but in reality talking just loud enough for me to hear, as if I didn't know that I was thin.
"Look at this one," the woman said as she spooned a mouthful of flapjack and syrup into her fat feeder face.
"She should eat something," her plump friend responded, clearly an expert on what to do in these situations.
"She looks ill, it's disgusting," the woman replied, just on the edge of my hearing. As if it was my choice to be thin and bony and strange and disgusting. Ana's bracelet itched but still I kept pulling it and letting it snap against my skin every time I saw food go past. Temptation was everywhere, carried on plates and hung on shelves, all screaming, eat me, you know you want me. Blue and green bruises were starting to appear on my wrist under the constant flicking. Ana's secret message. Her love bite. I was near to the point where just the sight of food would make me nauseous, the point where things wouldn't be up to me anymore but a group of seasoned professionals in white coats.
Luke jogged past at exactly 4:25 like he did every day, the cut of his physical cloth making some of the girls turn and smile and daydream about his strength and how satisfying it must be to have an alpha inside, someone physically perfect, to have someone to fix things and carry things and take care of things, to let go of doubt. A Ken to play dolls with in a big dream house, a nest one could move in to and just be.
I should have told Mia I was seeing him behind her back. I didn't think Sophie knew either, I suspected that if they found out about each other they would be upset, but if they found out about me they wouldn't care because it was just me, stupid little Sue who was not a threat, just a toy.
I watched him jog down the road, a ripple of delight emanating from his presence out into the world. From my vantage point I could see him run down the road for almost a mile until he turned off to Colma park. I wasn't stalking him, I just needed to know he existed.
I typed out my ultimatum to him on my phone, telling him that I would expose him if he didn't choose me exclusively. He was studying to be a pastor, he had told me, the scandal would ruin his career. My thumb hovered over the send button.
I'm fine. No, really.
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