apple.
water.
gum.
gum.
water.
french toast sticks (1 ½).
water.
done.
mom made breakfast for dinner, so of course i had to include that. it’s okay— it’s my cheat day.
i’m closer to my goal than before. just a few more; ana said i can manage.
it’s what oliver would’ve wanted.
but what do i want?
childish to ask; i know the answer.
i want to see oliver undressed. undone, lying in my bed, half tangled in my tattered sheets. ivory, floral linen with some dark stains from him. i always thought the pattern was too feminine. it didn’t matter. he liked them. i wouldn’t pick them; i hate florals. they’re from years ago.
i want to see his smile. his lips. pressed together in that mushy, upward curl. it’s warming; it makes my insides kindle, mimicking when his insides are inside of mine. i love when he makes his face at me. the face after he finishes. and when his eyes dart from the gap between the bed and the wall, to the gap between my thighs.
what i actually want is to talk to him. i never know how.
i’m close to being like he would’ve wanted. thin as a rail. confident while undressed. able to make his smile wider and his finish quicker.
able to feel my collarbones when i stroke my fingertips along my neckline. smooth and rigid at the same time. irresistible. more prominent each passing day i look in the mirror and feel them. closer to feeling his hands feel them. and feeling the curvature of my spine with his hands. this time, different than before, because he’ll feel the bone. he’ll be tracing it. getting caught up in it. i’ll be feeling his hands feel my body. caught up in him caught up in me. and my body— a body he wants.
so close for him to say he loves me and he means it. oliver might even love me more than ana loves me. but ana always reminds me that no one could love me more. even on the days i’m bad and eat what i shouldn’t.
“i love you kaelie,” oliver will say when he sees the way i look.
on saturday, he’s going to our friend’s birthday dinner. i rsvped too. it’s been months since i’ve seen him. years. i forget. i lost track. it feels like forever. i’ve been avoiding him, because ana said so. she said i was too disgusting, and if i ever wanted to be a priority to him, i’d have to look like one. but ana finally told me i looked okay. okay enough to go to the birthday dinner.
i’m anxious.
i look good.
he’s going to regret leaving me.
———
“Oliver,” I say, pushing up my sleeves, hoping he’ll notice my delicate wrists.
It’s Madison’s birthday dinner, and I’m early. So is Oliver. It’s just us waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.
I give him a hug. I don’t think he wanted that.
“Long time, no see! How have you been?” I put on a facade. I’m happy now like this. Ana said the more ribs that protrude, the better. I can count three on each side under my dress.
Our eyes lock for a minute. Initially, he gives me a puzzled look, but his eyes transition to dead ones once he remembers who I am. He doesn’t even notice my fading frame.
“I’ve been fine. Yourself?” Oliver asks.
I expected a shocked reaction from him. Rather, he’s short.
Ana says I’ve got to show him how well I’m doing. If only I felt as good as I looked.
“I’ve been doing well. Taking care of myself… hitting the gym… ya know,” I reply.
I toy with the tiny ruby pendant that rests against my blush v-neck. I’ve had the pendant for as long as I can remember; my mother gave it to me. I think it’s ugly and I hate jewelery, but I wear it. It’s his birthstone. He likes it.
As I consciously caress the chain of my pendant, I pop my collar bones out to tease him.
He gives me that familiar simile. The one where his lips press together after he finishes. Only this time it’s less genuine, and strikingly cold. Yet, it doesn’t fail to ignite my insides.
His attention then shifts to the patron who walks in. It’s his best friend, who’s also invited to the dinner. Oliver notices and leaves.
That’s when I pull him back in.
“Tell me Oliver, how are you actually doing? It’s been awhile. You have to be something other than fine. You always said we’d be friends.”
He hesitates.
“Actually, I’m doing great. Got an apartment…a dog.. oh, and engaged! You remember my friend Raquel, right? One night last summer we met up for drinks, and then it just kinda turned into a relationship. She’s great though; I really love her.”
His eyes light up at the last sentence. Mine sink.
My insides sink too. My stomach hurts, but not like hunger pains. Those are bad. I would know. This is worse.
I love you, I say.
I didn’t mean to do that. Oh shit, it slipped.
“I’m happy for you.” That’s what I actually said. Equally painful.
Please don’t leave me. I can keep trying until I’m what you want. I didn’t say that either.
“I’m glad things are going well.”
I said that.
We didn’t talk for the rest of dinner. The guests showed up, and we sat on opposite ends of the table.
Then I drove away and tried to never think about him again.
I missed out my mom’s french toast sticks. Those were always my favorite. The only aroma that could drag me out of bed in the morning. Now, it made me nauseous.
I missed out on my mom’s french toast sticks. I missed out on a lot because of him.
Katy Shero is a sophomore studying English and Broadcast Journalism at Penn State University Park. She is from Hershey, Pennsylvania. She began creative writing in sixth grade and hasn’t stopped since. Aside from writing, she enjoys tutoring her peers at the Penn State Learning Center, reporting for PSNtv on campus, and being a part of her THON committee. She also loves ballet dancing and anything fitness related. You can find more of her work in the 2019 edition of Folio.