Letting Ana Go (18 page)

Jack: You okay?

Me: I will be.

Jack: Is there anything I can do?

Me: You’re doing it.

I felt his big biceps tense around me as he squeezed me gently to his chest. I kicked him out at 7 p.m., when I knew Mom was clocking out at the hospital.

Jack: I liked it better when your mom worked nights.

Me: You and me both.

Weight:
I DON’T KNOW

I don’t
know
how much I weigh right now because Mom threw the scale away. She literally put it out with the trash yesterday morning. I weighed myself yesterday morning before school, then drove off to endure
another
day of Jill being standoffish, Vanessa being wildly huggy, and Coach making me recite what I had for lunch when I checked in at practice.

As I was driving home, it hit me: I’m cranky because I haven’t been running. I have been missing my runner’s high. My brain needs those chemicals to deal with stress. Of course, Mom and Coach would flip if they knew I’d started running again, but I’m so close to fitting in the dress, and I’ve been eating every single meal every single day since Sunday night.

I changed and did a quick four-mile loop around the neighborhood, then showered and stashed my shoes in my closet instead of leaving them by the back door like I usually do. I was working on chemistry when Mom got back from work.

She poked her head in my room and started asking me about my day, then started giving me the third degree about what I’d done after school.

Me: You’re looking at it. Chemistry.

Mom: Have you talked to Jill?

Me: I saw her at school today. She’s at ballet.

Mom: She called you Monday night, right?

Me: Yeah, on her way home from class.

Mom: And?

Me: And . . . what?

Mom: Honey, I’m just . . . worried.

Me: Worried about what?

Mom: I want you to be careful about hanging out with Jill.

I lost my mind. I yelled. Mom yelled back. I started crying. I told her Jill was my best friend and I didn’t care. I was going to hang out with her. Mom brought up Susan, and how she was encouraging Jill to get too thin for ballet and how dangerous that was, and the longer I listened the more quiet I became. Sometimes when I get mad at Mom I just shut down.

This was one of those times.

She finally finished lecturing me and I took several deep breaths. When I heard her go back downstairs and start pulling food out of the fridge, I went to the bathroom to weigh myself. I don’t know why, but it calms me down, knowing for sure what my weight is. Somehow the knowing makes it okay—makes it all measurable and manageable. It gives things an order, a number, a plan of action.

The scale was gone.

Sometimes Mom has borrowed it to weigh boxes when she sends something she’s bought online back because it doesn’t fit. I walked into her room and looked by her desk. It wasn’t there either. I checked her bathroom. No luck. Finally I went downstairs and asked her where it was.

Mom: I threw it away, sweetheart.

Me: You
what
?

It came out louder and more shrill than I’d intended it to.

Mom: You are obsessed about how much you weigh and it’s
not healthy. You were in the
hospital
on Saturday and Sunday because you’re not
eating enough
.

Suddenly we were shouting again. I kept screaming about how I was supposed to make sure I was eating enough calories, how I would know if it was working. She kept saying how unhealthy it was until finally I’d had it.

Me: Unhealthy? I’m the unhealthy one? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?

Mom: That’s
it
, young lady. You’re
grounded
.

Me (laughing): Grounded? From what? The
scale
?

Mom: You are not to leave this house without my permission. You are not to talk to or hang out with Jill unless you tell me about it. And no dates with Jack for a week.

Me: Fine. I’ll go stay at Dad’s for a week.

Mom: Oh no, you won’t.

Me: Watch me.

Weight:
115.5

I’ve gained almost two pounds since Sunday, but at least I know about it. This morning Mom left for work with strict instructions that I go directly to school and then come directly home. I smiled and nodded.

I drove directly to Jill’s and texted her from the driveway.

She appeared at the front door and raised her hand to wave with a timid smile. I ran up the sidewalk.

Me: I need to use your scale.

Jill: I was afraid something like this might be happening at your house.

Me: You don’t want to know.

Jill: I’ll bet I can guess. Your scale disappeared, huh?

And just like that, we were back to normal. The swell of relief that started when I saw her smile at the front door flooded through me completely when I stepped onto the clear glass square in the corner of her bathroom and watched the cool blue glow of the digital numbers scramble up to . . . 115.5. I groaned.

Jill: Not so bad. At least you know. They pumped you full of all kinds of sugar water in the hospital.

Me: I only have two weeks before homecoming. I have to be at 110 for that dress to fit.

Jill: Five pounds is nothing. You’re fine. You can’t give up now.

Me: But I have to eat every single meal my mother puts on the table.

Jill: Do you?

I just blinked at her. She was right. I was standing in her house, hanging out with her even though Mom didn’t want me
to. I was using the scale even though Mom didn’t want me to. I could eat or not eat whatever I wanted. What my mom wants or doesn’t want really isn’t my problem.

Jill saw the lightbulb go off in my head, and I smiled for what felt like the first time in days.

Jill: Welcome back.

I lay on her bed and we talked about how things were going in ballet for her. Classes had taken on a pretty competitive edge with Misty Jenkins always trying to outdo her now that casting for
The Nutcracker
had been handed down. When Jill was ready, we walked downstairs. Susan blew us kisses in the hallway as she sailed out the door in a trim navy business suit with an attaché case.

Jack was eating Lucky Charms at the island in the kitchen, and a big smile spread across his face when he saw me.

Jack: What are you doing here?

Me: Had to talk to your sister.

Jill: Confidential BFF assistance was required,
mon frère
.

He gulped down the pinkish milk at the bottom of his cereal bowl, then put his dishes in the sink and pulled me in for a kiss.

Jack: Wish I could wake up and have you here every morning.

It was the best start to a school day I’d had in a long time. I
did well on my chemistry test in third period, and when I turned my phone on between classes, I had a voice mail from Dad:

Sure! I’d love for you to spend the weekend. Come over Friday night. I’ll be home by eight, and we can go see a movie, or get food, or whatever you want.

Weight:
114.5

Just got back from Dad’s place. It was wildly depressing. He’s living in this really nice condo not far from the dealership. It’s full of new furniture that’s comfortable, but it looks like he walked into a Crate and Barrel and just pointed at a sectional and chairs and beds and lamps and end tables. Also, there is n-o-t-h-i-n-g on the walls, which makes it feel sort of barren.

We went shopping to get bedding for the guest room where I slept. He had a bed already, but we had to go buy sheets and a comforter and pillows. He pulled out his Amex and kept asking me if I needed anything else, like if he just bought enough stuff for the guest room it would be more comfortable and might also ease the discomfort between us.

Dad: What else do you need?

Me: Well, there’s no toothbrush holder in the bathroom.

We wheeled into the bathroom section and chose bath
accessories: soap dispenser and hand soap, a toothbrush holder, shower caddy, bath mat. I slipped a scale into the cart as well. He didn’t blink.

Afterward, we went to dinner, just us this time. I ordered a soup and salad combo. Dad sent several text messages, and I assume they were to Annette. She probably thinks I hate her or something. I don’t.

Last night, I asked Dad if Jack and Jill and Rob could meet us for a movie.

Dad: Your mom called me and said you’re grounded. What’d you do?

Me: I told her I wasn’t going to stop hanging out with Jill.

Dad: Why does she want you to do that?

Me: She thinks Jill is convincing me to starve myself.

Dad: Are you starving yourself?

Me: No! I just run a lot.

Dad: I know a lot of people who run a lot who don’t wind up in the hospital.

Me: I’m fine. You saw me eat dinner.

In the end he relented. Jack met us at the theater with Jill and Rob. Annette met Dad. She smiled at me tentatively. I smiled back and gave her a polite hello. The movie was based on a book for teenagers about (surprise) teenagers. It was sort of a love story and sort of a story about a guy who is really depressed
trying to figure out why. There are three main friends and they go riding around in a pickup truck listening to music. They take turns standing in the back of the truck as they drive through a tunnel in Pittsburgh, and at one point the main boy says, “We are infinite.”

I don’t know why, but that part made me cry. Big tears slid down my cheeks and I tried to be sneaky when I reached up to wipe them away, but Jack saw. You know what I like best about Jack? He didn’t ask why I was crying, he just reached over and laid his hand on my leg, and I wove my fingers through his, and we sat like that until the movie was over.

This afternoon, I packed up all my stuff and came home while Mom was still at work. It gave me a chance to go for a run before she got home and also to stash the new scale Dad bought under my bed.

When Mom got home it was like nothing had happened last week—like we never fought. Maybe she got the message. Or maybe she’s afraid of losing me. Whatever the reason, she brought home Thai food and called me downstairs. We sat on the couch and she ate curry while I pretended to, and we watched TV.

I’m heading to bed now so I can get up early in the morning and run before school. Mom will probably not be pleased, but I don’t care. I’ve got almost two weeks before homecoming.

Weight:
112.5

Only two more pounds to go. I’ve been eating nothing but lettuce at lunch, and Vanessa told me today she’s going to turn me in to Coach Perkins tomorrow. I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out. As I turned to walk away, she grabbed my arm.

Me: Let go of me.

Vanessa:
No!
I won’t just let go of you. I don’t want you to die.

Me: You are such a drama queen. I’m not dying.

Vanessa: I’m telling Coach.

Me: Okay.

Vanessa: Okay what?

Me: Okay fine. Tell Coach. I just don’t care. I don’t have the energy to fight with you about this.

Vanessa: She’s going to kick you off the team.

Me: Yes, she probably will.

Vanessa: And you’re just
okay
with that? We could win at
state
this year.

Me: Not without me you won’t.

All of my clothes are really baggy on me now. My breasts have gotten smaller and a lot of my shirts don’t fit the way they used to. I don’t really fill them out anymore. Luckily, it’s cooler
now, and I’ve pulled out some of my cardigans and hoodies. When I wear long sleeves and baggier tops over leggings and jeans it’s harder to tell that I’m a lot skinnier. Mom even saw me this morning in the kitchen and said I looked really nice before she ran out the door to work. She’s going out with Pam tonight. Some sort of speed-dating thing Pam signed her up for. She’s all excited about it.

At least she won’t be here for dinner. I’m so tired of spitting food into napkins. Also, if I have to drink one more mug of that tea Jill gave me I might dissolve completely.

I just finished the workout Jill showed me, and I’m going to go on a quick run before Mom comes home from work. That should burn off about two-thirds of the 1,200 calories I’ve had so far today.

Weight:
112

Coach Perkins told me I was benched for the rest of the season unless I bring my weight up. There were tears in her eyes when she told me. She’s going to call Mom to talk to her about “the situation.” She announced to everybody that Vanessa would be the new team captain for the time being. I don’t care. That’s what Vanessa wanted anyway. I don’t understand why everybody
thinks sports are so important in high school. It’s not like any of us are going to run cross-country professionally one day. And when the rest of them stop running, they’ll get fat.

Not me.

Just because I’m benched for another two weeks doesn’t mean I’m going to stop running.

Weight:
111.5

Jill and I met Vanessa and Geoff to watch Jack and Rob’s soccer game last night before Mom got home from work. Afterward, we went to this ancient diner Rob loves called Rick’s. It’s a greasy spoon attached to an old hotel. There’s a ceiling fan over every table and you can tell from the color of the ceiling tiles that people used to sit in there and chain-smoke.

Our favorite waitress, Marlene, was wearing her signature metallic blue eye shadow. She sat us back in the corner booth, where Rob and Jack immediately ordered chicken-fried steak with gravy. Vanessa and Geoff got chocolate malts, and Jill and I both sipped hot water and lemon, and split a chef’s salad—dressing on the side. The guys have been finalizing plans for homecoming next week, and they are so cute when they talk about it.

Jill told me she wants to see me in the dress and told me that she found the perfect shoes to go with it. I told her we’d have to figure out a time for her to come over while my mom was gone.