Stay Beautiful

T h r e e - Morgan

Morgan

On Sunday morning I run to the store to pick up some laxatives. All the puking has made my throat sore and Mom's been asking if I'm sick.

Today I managed to have a banana before Mom could try and get on me for not eating enough and maybe try to make me eat pancakes.

90 calories so far.

At the pharmacy I pace the aisles, trying to pick the best and most effective. I pluck the one off the counter that promises quick results and I bring them to the counter, my cheeks burning. The old woman at the register rings them up without so much as a blink. I pay and leave the store.

Rain starts falling, but it's just a sprinkle. The laxatives are stuffed in my too big coat pocket. It's funny how my clothes are pretty much falling off of me yet I feel like the fattest person alive.

I bump shoulders with someone and look up, only to meet dark green eyes hidden under brown bangs. "Sorry," I breathe.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "No, it's fine." He waits a beat before asking, "do you go to my school?"

Something clicks in my mind and I know I've seen him around the halls. "Yeah. I'm Morgan. Morgan Kennedy," I say, pushing my blonde hair behind my ear.

"Parker Lovett," he replies.

We stare at each other for a moment, wondering why we've never had a conversation before. The rain starts to become a drizzle. "Do you want some coffee?" he asks, nodding towards the shop behind us.

With the laxatives weighing heavy in my pocket I nod and we duck in to escape the rain. He finds us a table and we sit. "I think we used to have English together," he says, drumming his fingers on the table.

I give him a small smile. "You had that really great essay on the importance of American Literature," I remember. He smiles shyly as a waitress appears at our table.

"What ya'll want?" she asks, her pad and pen poised in her hands.

Parker orders a chai latte and a banana nut muffin. I order a black coffee. 0 calories. The waitress shuffles away and it's just the two of us again.

We look at each other and chuckle quietly. It's not awkward. It's comfortable; as if we know what the other person means by just one look. I look out the window and the rain is still at a drizzle, creating puddles in the street that sprays people as they hustle by.

"So...are you excited for graduation?" Parker asks.

I turn my attention back to him. I had over two thousand dollars saved up. That would get me and Jacob to dad's house. We could finally stop living out of that box. I love my mom, but she's never around. And she spends our child support on gambling. Whenever dad calls I want to tell him, but it would only cause drama.

Nodding, I cup my sleeves over my hands and clench them together. "Yeah. I'm really excited. I just want to get out of here," I reply.

Something sparkles in Parker's eyes. "Glad I'm not the only one."

The waitress brings us our drinks and I sprinkle two packs of Splenda into my coffee for flavor. Calorie and carb free. "Where do you want to go?" I ask him.

Parker takes a sip of his chai latte, a light layer of foam on his upper lip that he licks away before speaking. "My aunt has a place for me and my sister over in Illinois," he explains. "She wanted me to finish school first. You?"

I rub my finger around the rim of my cup. "Indiana is where my dad lives. My brother and I are going to live there."

It isn't definite yet. But Dad can't turn us away if we're on his front porch, bags in hand.

"How old is your brother?" Parker asks. He breaks off a piece of his muffin and it hits me. The sweet smell of banana, a hint of cinnamon. My mouth waters and I swallow it down.

"My brother Jacob is seven. How old is your sister?"

"Five. Stella," he grins.

I take a sip of my coffee and it slides down my throat, hot. "I like that name," I comment.

He nods. "It fits her. She's spunky and so full of life. It's weird to think that any of us were that happy." He says it like it's no big deal as he shoves that muffin down his throat, sips of his latte not far behind.

I can't remember the last time I was happy.

We continue talking. I finish half of my coffee while Parker sips his cup bare and his muffin is just crumbs on the table. He throws a few crinkled bills on the table. "No, let me," I interject.

He just laughs. "Morgan, I can't let you pay." He glances at his watch. "Shit. I have work in an hour. Is it cool if I leave?"

I start to stand, ready to go home and binge after watching him eat so effortlessly. "No, it's fine. I have to go home anyway."

We stand there, looking at each other for a moment. Wondering, how could we have missed each other all this time?

"I'll see you tomorrow at school then?" he wonders.

I smile and nod. "Tomorrow."

Jacob is at a friend's house in the neighborhood. I have an hour before I need to pick him up. Mom is either out gambling or at work. I pull out last night's dinner from the fridge: another casserole. Tuna. It will do. There's at least five servings left. I stick the whole pan in the microwave and wait by it, my heart thumping.

The microwave beeps and I pull it out. I don't even sit, I just grab a fork and shovel it in. I don't chew or taste, I just swallow bite after bite. Halfway through my stomach feels like it's going to burst but I keep going.

When I can't eat anymore I take as many laxatives that the box recommends for a twenty four hour period and I gulp them down with water. Ten minutes later, I'm running to the bathroom.

Even after ridding myself of all the food, I still purge, just to be sure. I try not to, but the urge is so strong. My finger is down my throat before I can stop it.

I'm empty.

I lay on the bathroom floor breathless while my stomach gurgles and my throat burns. My phone says I have ten minutes until I need to get Jacob.

I think I'll take the long way.