With that settled, she steps away, leaving us to speak amongst ourselves for the next twenty minutes while our food is prepared. The entire time, I can’t even focus on what everyone is saying. I’m too busy reminding myself that I don’t need to eat the entire burger and the entire plate of fries. Telling myself it’s okay to take my time, don’t go too fast. Let my body tell me when I’m full instead of gorging myself.
But… when that plate gets set in front of me, the aroma from the charbroiled burger and deep-fried curly-Qs hitting my nostrils, I forget everything I told myself. I dig in. Large bite after bite, washing it down with the Coke Camden also ordered for me. The burger is slightly pink, cooked perfectly, and so fuckingjuicy. The fries are crispy and salted just right. Everything tastes so damn good.
I can’t even remember the last time I’ve eaten this much food, or the last time I ate anything this greasy. I can’t get enough. I eat and eat and eat, until there’s nothing left on the plate. And when that’s done, I dig into the nachos we have in the middle of the table. They were the appetizer, but it was big enough to feed a football team.
Fuck, do they hit the spot.
Our server brings me another Coke. What is it about ice-cold fountain Coke that justdoes it? It’s so much better than canned soda or soda from a bottle.
Before long, my stomach starts to feel bloated. Like everything I just ate is sitting at the very top, practically in my throat. Vaughn pays the bill for all four of us and we leave. Sweat lines my forehead as I drive home, the music turned off. I shouldn’t have eaten all of that.What was I thinking?
Refusing to ride in Vaughn’s stupid fancy car, I drove myself. I pull into the driveway, somehow beating everyone back to the house, and shuffle inside, my mind a million light-years away. I drop my keys off by the door, kicking my shoes off, before I hurry into my room, locking the door.
Fuck.
I don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve binged like that. Normally, I have so much more self-control.
“Fuck!”
With my hands thrusted into my hair, I tug on the strands, pacing in front of my bed as my breathing comes out harder and harder.
“Goddamnit! I’m so fucking stupid!”
I slip into the bathroom connected to my room, shutting the door, and meet my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, burning with the tears I refuse to shed.
This is okay. This doesn’t have to be a step in the wrong direction.
As if connected by a strong magnetic pull, my gaze shifts in the mirror until I’m looking behind me.
No.
I can’t do that.
Forcing my eyes back on my face, a stray tear falls. I wipe it away before it has a chance to make it down my cheek.
I cannot go there.
It’s been years since I’ve sunk that low. I’m stronger than that.
But… it could just be one time.
One time to feel better, and that’s it. One time to get all this greasy food out of my stomach. I’d feel better, and I could get back on track.
One and done.
One… and done.
My knees crack painfully against the brutally cold linoleum flooring, a sob clawing its way up my throat.
One and done. It’ll be okay.
I’ll feel better.
With two fingers shoved into my throat, the contents of my stomach empty into the toilet. The tears flow steadily now, nose running like a faucet as spit strings connect my mouth and fingers. It’s not enough, though. I’m not done.
So, I do it again…
And again…
