Liz taps her pencil against her math notebook as she glances around the room.
“C’mon, you’re not going to learn anything by day dreaming,” I chuckle.
“I don’t understand math! I never have and I’m never going to,” Liz exclaims as she flails her arms.
“Well when you sit and stare into space all the time, you’re not going to learn anything,” I take Liz’s notebook, “What problem are you on?” Before she gets a chance to tell me, my mother calls us to dinner.
“Race ya downstairs,” Liz chants as she sprints through the doorway. Her blonde hair flows behind her as she gallops down the stairs. I watch as she leaps from the landing to the bottom of the stairs. She looks up, smiles and says,
“Beat ya.” I return the smile and waddle down the stairs. Liz has been my best friend since we were born. Our parents have been friends since high school so we have grown to be like siblings. Liz and I sit down at the dining room table in front of plates of spaghetti.
“Liz, honey, do you need a ride home after dinner?” my mother asks as she seats herself next to my father.
“Nah, I can walk,” Liz responds as she stuffs her mouth full of pasta. She has never been very lady-like when it came to table manners.
“Are you sure? It’s cold.”
“Yeah, I only have to walk a few houses down the street.” My mother chuckles and agrees to let Liz walk home.
“Charlie, did you get your application for wrestling tryouts?” my father asks scooping noodles into his mouth.
“Yeah, tryouts are next week.” A noodle drops from my chin onto my bulging stomach. My father smiles happily as he takes a sip of his fourth beer.
Next week…


“Alright, boys. Let’s get started. We’re going to start with getting into our weight categories,” says Coach Sanders. He begins reading names off of the applications he has piled on his clipboard. He calls my name and I step forward.


“Oh,” says Coach, “Charlie, can I talk to in the hall for a second?” My stomach fills with worry. I desperately want to make the team, I just want to make dad proud.



“Listen, Charlie, you’re too... big,” says Coach Sanders with an apologetic look.



“What?” I exclaim in disbelief. Coach puts his hand on my shoulder and says,



“Lose some weight and try again next year.” He drops his hand and pulls open the door to the gym and continues calling names from his clipboard. I stand in the middle of the hallway, dumbfounded. Jeremy Wade, former wrestler, walks up to me. His knee gave out during one of his matches so he can’t wrestle anymore and he walks with a very noticeable limp.



“Hey, Charlie,” he says. I continue to stand in silence.



“What’s wrong?” he asks.



“Coach Sanders said I’m too fat to be on the wrestling team. He told me if I lose some weight then I can tryout again next year,” I explain.



“Aww, dude, I’m sorry to hear that,” Jeremy says genuinely concerned.



“Yeah,” I say as I look down at my feet.



“Hey,” Jeremy says as he smacks my arm, “Do you want a tip on how to lose weight super-fast?”



“Um, sure. I guess.”



“Just puke up whatever you eat.”.



“Huh?”

“Yeah, just throw up after every meal or whenever you eat something. You’ll get all the vitamins and stuff when you swallow it and then to get rid of all the extra junk your body doesn’t need, you throw up. That’s what I did when I needed to lose weight. I know of a bunch of people who do it. It totally works,” explains Jeremy.


“Okay. Thanks,” I say, with a sense of hope in my voice.

“No problem, dude. Good luck!” he says as he limps away. I walk towards the front entrance of the school and push open the door. Cold air swarms around my large, warm body. I get in my car and drive home.

I get home and see my father’s car parked in the driveway. I hesitantly step out of the car and slowly walk to the door. When I step in through the back door I see my mom cooking dinner and my father reading the newspaper in the living room, a beer in hand.

“Hey! So how’d you do?” my father asks, his words slur into each other.

“Oh, um, we find out if we made the team by next week,” I lie. I don’t want to disappoint my dad. He smiles and returns to reading.

“Dinner’s ready,” my mother says as she places a dish of casserole on the table. I slide into a seat and serve myself. We eat in silence. I notice my mother glaring at my father in disgust as he takes another swill from the almost empty beer bottle.



As I finish the last spoonful, I think about what Jeremy said.” I know a bunch of people who do it” his voice rings in my head.



“Can I be excused? I have a ton of homework,” I lie. My parents nod and I barrel upstairs. I walk to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I kneel in front of the toilet and decide this is what I have to do. I gag until my dinner is in the bowl. I flush and then walk to my room.
Two years later…

“So, Charlie how was school?” my mom asks as she scoops another spoonful of lumpy mashed potatoes. I gag at the sight of my mother piling food into her mouth. I look down into my lap at my thin, skeleton-like fingers intertwining each other. My loose t-shirt dangles from my boney shoulders. My fathers chair is empty as usual.

“Fine, you know, just school,” I respond. I pick up my fork and slowly lift a green bean into my mouth. I jump as the back door slams open. My drunken father stumbles through the door with a half empty bottle of beer in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. My mother rushes over to my father. She pulls off his jacket which has a coat of vomit sprawled across the front. My father slaps her hand away from him.

“Get away from me, b****! I can do this myself!” he screams as he pulls his arm out of the sleeve.

“Charlie, go upstairs,” my mom says as she turns towards me. I walk up the stairs and into my room. I look at the bulletin board above my desk. There are pictures, memories, of when I was happy and healthy. My twig-like legs carry me to the bathroom down the hall. I begin to gag myself until my dinner has escaped my stomach. I flush the toilet and quietly return to my bedroom. I sit on the bed; it creaks as it adjusts to my weight. I hear the screams of my parents through the vents.

“I’m done! I’m sick of this happening every f***ing night, Vic! I’m leaving, I’m done,” my mother screams, “Let go of me!” I hear a slap and then whimpering. My mother’s light footsteps are drowned out by the stomping of my dad’s size twelve work boots. I hear them run past my door.

“I’m sorry, Dianne. Please don’t go,” my father pleads. All I hear is shuffling coming from the closet then the slam of a suitcase. No, please don’t leave me with him I think to myself. The go past my door again and then the front door slams and the car engine revs to life. The squealing of tires and my father screaming seep through my window. I hear the back door slam. My dad must be back in the house. His footsteps become louder, the closer he gets to my door. I shut the light off and quickly wiggle into my sheets. My dad opens my bedroom door. All can I hear is my escalating heartbeat. What is he going to do? After thirty seconds, he sighs and shuts the door again. My heart slows back to normal. I turn my light back on and reach for my cell phone. I dial my mom’s number and press call. There are five rings and then her voicemail. I call three more times, without an answer. I sigh and walk towards my door. I peek my head out the door. My fathers nowhere to be seen. I open the door all the way and step into the dark hallway. I tip-toe to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I flick the light on and open the cabinet above the sink. I grab an orange bottle of white pills. I pop two into my mouth and twist the cap back into place. I stare at the bottle, considering my options of escape. I close my eyes and put the bottle back in the cabinet. I walk to my room and climb into bed again. I switch the light off and wait for the medication to carry me to slumber.

The next day…

I slam the door of my locker shut and see Liz, walking towards me with a smile on her face. She’s always so happy; ever since I knew her I don’t think she’s ever been sad. Her long, pencil-straight, blonde hair is flowing as she walks. She’s wearing the red sweater I got her for Christmas and a pair of jeans.

“Hey, do want to come over tonight?” Liz asks.

“I don’t think tonights the best night,” I respond.

“Why? What happened?” Liz asks with concern. She always knows when something is wrong.

“My mom left last night,” I answer.

“Oh my gosh! Charlie, I’m sorry!” Liz exclaims with a look of sadness, she wraps her arms around my frail body. The sweet aroma of her perfume fills my nose, “Why did she leave?” she asks, her hands remain on my shoulders.

“Because of my dad, he came home drunk last night and they got into a pretty heated fight,” I respond. The bell rings signaling us to our next class.

“I gotta go, but if you want to talk you know where to find me,” Liz says with a wink. She turns and walks down the hallway into Mr. Wong’s math class. I smile until she’s out of view. She’s the only one who can make me smile anymore.

I walk in through the back door and find my dad passed out on the couch with a pile of empty beer bottles next to him, the stench of alcohol hangs in the air. I walk upstairs and throw my bag in the corner and lie on down on the bed. I turn onto my side to see the pictures of Liz and I from when we were younger. When I was fatter. When I was happier. Tears begin to dampen my sunken eye sockets. I’m startled by my father who crashes through my door and begins screaming at me. I sit up, speechless, confused. He walks over the bed and grabs me by the collar of my shirt and screams in my face, his breath reeks of alcohol. His screams slur into one heap of noise. I struggle to free myself. My stick-like arms are no match for his thick, muscular arms. I see his fist rise. It is aimed at my face and with lightning speed, his fist strikes my eye. I drop to the ground as he lets go of my collar. I begin to shake in fright. He kicks me in the stomach, I clench my abdomen. My dad walks over to the door, steps out and slams it with all his force. I whimper and groan in pain.

After a half an hour of agonizing pain, I stand up and walk over to my bed. I’ve had enough, there’s no escaping him. I grab my cell phone and dial Liz’s number. There are two rings and she picks up. A tear escapes my eyelid.

“Hey,” she says happily.

“Hi,” I choke out.

“What’s wrong?” her tone quickly changes from happy to concerned.

“Liz, I need to talk,” I say as more and more tears stream from my eyes.

“Okay, I’m listening,” she says. I take a deep breath.

“I love you,” I pause. Gathering myself back together, “I’ve always loved you. You are the most beautiful, caring person I have ever met. You have always been there for me. I know I can trust you with my life, I can trust you with anything. Thank you so much, Liz, for caring, for everything,” my breath quickens, another tear slides down my cheek, “But it’s the end,” I exclaim.

“What? What do you mean the end?” Liz responds with a tone of panic. I’m silent as my face dampens with tears.

“Charlie?!” Liz yells into the phone.

“Goodbye, Liz,” I say. I hang up. I break down, I can’t stop the tears. I walk down the hall to the bathroom. I look in the mirror and examine my boney face, my sunken cheekbones and eye sockets, my bulging, blue eyes, my protruding, pink lips. I look at my defined collarbone and twiggy arms. I think back to two years ago when I was too fat. I look in the mirror and see that fat, innocent face. I see the fat face that was always smiling, the fat face that had a happy life with happy parents. What happened? I think to myself. I became bulimic; I became sad all because of my father. My family is broken because of my father. My life is ruined because of my father. I open the medicine cabinet and pull out a jar of pills. I look in the mirror one last time to see the broken person I have become. I pop the cap off the jar and close my eyes. Suddenly, the door swings open with a crash causing me to throw the pills across the room. It’s Liz. She’s out of breath She’s been crying. She runs over to me and hugs me and sobs into my shoulder.

“Charlie, please, never leave. Don’t leave, ever. I need you,” she whimpers. I begin crying again. I see my father standing in the hallway, staring. We’re interrupted by two paramedics barging into the bathroom. They pull Liz and I away and pull me by my arms downstairs. I’m too tired and sore to resist. They walk me out the front door and onto a gurney. The paramedics load me into the back of an ambulance and begin strapping things around me.

“Wait, can I ride in here?” I hear Liz ask the paramedic. She jumps in the back of the ambulance with me. The paramedics shut the doors and I feel us begin to move. Liz leans over and looks at me. Her eyes are swollen and her face is filled with worry and sadness.

“I love you too, Charlie,” she says. I smile; she’s the only one who can make me smile anymore.

****
I wake up to find myself in a hospital. My mother is here. She and my dad are in the hallway , talking. I turn my head and see Liz sitting on a green couch.

“Good morning,” Liz says with a smirk. I smile back. My mother and father walk back into the room. I can tell my mom has been crying.

“Hi, honey, how are you feeling?” my mother asks as she kisses my forehead.

“I’ve been better,” I say in response.

“Listen, your father and I need to tell you something,” my mom exclaims. There is long pause before she continues, “We both think it would be best if once you’re released from the hospital if you went to get help.” My face hardens.

“You mean a mental hospital?” I say in anger.

“Yes, but it would be for the best,” my father says. I look over at him in disgust.

“Do you want to know what would be for the best? If you got out of my life! You caused this! You!” I scream. The tears return to my eyes. My father walks out of the room. Liz walks over and sits on the bed. I quickly sit up and hug her. I never want to let go. She lets go and looks me in the eyes.

“Charlie, you need to get help, I need you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Liz says with sadness, her voice quivers as she fights back tears. I know she’s right. I sigh and nod.

“Okay,” I say, “For you.” She smiles.

Three days later…

I look out the window as my parents, Liz and I pull into Thomas Mark’s Rehabilitation Center. It’s a large brick building with many windows. I’m the last one to get out of the car. We all begin walking towards the entrance. Liz grabs my hand. We walk inside and I’m checked in. One of the nurses tells my parents that I will be in good hands. I hug my mother and Liz. They walk towards the doors. My father is still standing in front of me. I can see tears forming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He turns away and walks towards my mother and Liz. I stand watching until they disappear through the doors.
Six months later…

Today is my last day in rehab. Liz is coming to pick me up. I pack up all of my things and wait. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I walk over to it. My face has filled out some; my eyes aren’t so bulgy, my cheek bones a little more hidden, my jaw bones a little less defined. I look out the window and see Liz’s blue Chevy pull into the parking lot. I grab my bag and run downstairs to the main entrance. Liz is waiting for me at the front desk. I run up to her and hug her tightly. She smiles at me.

“Look at you!” she squeals in delight. I chuckle and grab my bag. We walk out of the building holding hands. We approach her car; I throw my bag in the back seat and get in the passenger side. I strap my seatbelt over my chest. When I look up Liz is staring at me with a smirk.

“What?” I ask with a chuckle. Suddenly, she leans in a kisses me, her soft lips pressing against mine. We both smile at each other and she starts the car.

We pull into the driveway of my house. My mom is waiting for us outside. She squeals with happiness and wraps her arms around my neck. She moved back home and my father has been sober for three months now. We walk inside where my dad was waiting in the kitchen. We stand in silence for a few seconds.

“I never got the chance to say anything before you left when you dropped me off, but I just wanted to say, I forgive you,” I say. My dad smiles and I smile back.