Skin and Bones (9 page)

Bones tried to look interested.

“I’m applying to this cooking school,” Lard said, standing in front of the industrial size fridge. “My challenge is to get
fresh
back into school cafeterias without substituting watered-down ketchup for marinara sauce.”

“It’s an assignment?”

“Gorilla warfare.” Lard nodded. “Here’s the thing, man. I’m a compulsive overeater. I’ve always sneaked food, kept secret stashes, gorged when no one was around. Now I have a reason to be around food—a reason that makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something.”

“Okay, I get it.”

Lard took a cookie sheet from the fridge; it held two large pizzas. “This one’s black bean nacho with roasted red peppers and jalapeños. And the other is your typical pineapple with smoked ham and glazed onions.”

Bones stared at the mess, his stomach tying knots.

“Stop counting the goddamned calories,” Lard said. “Just tell me which one looks the most appetizing.”

“I hate beans.”

Lard ignored him. “If you think about it, food is necessary for life. Ask anyone who’s starved to death.”

“Very funny,” Bones said. Then he walked away, his stomach a tangled mess.

After a while Bones got used to Alice not being at every meal or every meeting. She kept getting called to different parts of the hospital for tests. She got mad if anyone asked about it because she hated being treated like she was sick.

“You think I like peeing in a bottle? Getting pricked with needles? Choking on potassium tablets?” she’d snap back. “I’ve given so much blood I’m anemic, so now they’re giving me iron tablets, and if I ask for stool softeners, they accuse me of abnormal anxiety and unwarranted obsession over my bowels.”

Nancy had appeared the last time to escort her downstairs. “Chest X-ray,” she’d said. “Then an echocardiogram.”

Bones knew that meant the doctors wanted to see how her heart was pumping.

With Alice downstairs and Lard in the kitchen, Bones asked Teresa if he could sit with her. “Sure,” she said over a veggie burger fat enough to feed a family of four. “Did Lard show you his project?”

Bones nibbled his roll. “Yeah.”

“I hope he gets into that school,” she said, dipping a bite in barbecue sauce. “He’s worked hard for it.”

Bones chewed and chewed, churning his bite into dough. Then he faked a sneeze and spit into his napkin.

Teresa pretended she didn’t see it.

“Do vegetarians eat animal crackers?” Elsie asked from across the room.

“Is Bud Wiser?” Mary-Jane retorted.

“Does his meat loaf?”

It went on like this for another five minutes.

After dinner Bones spent more time than usual breaking down tables and chairs. He kept hoping to see Alice. He finally gave up, went back to his room, and pulled out the letter he’d started writing to his sister. He’d added a couple of funny lines about Sex Therapy when Lard came in.

“That’s the first and last time,” Lard said, tossing a note to Bones. “I’m not a fucking carrier pigeon.”

“Right. More like an aircraft carrier.”

“Har. Har.”

The note was from Alice.
Set your alarm clock for midnight and hide it under your pillow.

Alice must have known the coast would be clear at that time, probably a change of shifts. Life was a lot easier when Unibrow wasn’t on duty. His rubber soles were sometimes quiet as dust. He moved around the corridors, room to room, then materialized just when someone thought they might have a private moment.

As it turned out, Bones didn’t need the alarm. Lard snored louder than usual. “Little Debbies,” he kept saying in his sleep. Bones got up at 11:45, changed in the dark, and slipped inside Alice’s room quiet as the laces in his Converse.

“Thanks for coming,” she said softly.

Bones didn’t see her at first. He turned toward her voice, letting his eyes adjust to the dull light. The moon broke through the curtains, shining yet full of shadows. She wore a dark leotard, tights, and leg-warmers. No skirt. She’d already put on her pointe shoes.

“I need help moving the bed,” she whispered.

“Sure,” he whispered back.

Bones scooted one side of the bed, then the other. Back and forth, it glided easily on wheels. Now she had room for her turns.

“
Fouettés
,” she said. “It means to whip.”

Bones stood there all nervous. He didn’t know what to do—what she wanted him to do this time. “Anything else?”

“Just be my audience.”

Bones stayed in the corner out of the way while she warmed up. She followed the same routine as before. After twenty minutes she started turning in place on one foot. Light and beautiful as an angel.

He counted silently.
One, two…nine, ten…
All on one amazing leg. He loved this, just being with her. Added bonus: staying up burned more calories than sleeping.

Without taking a breath, Alice repeated the same number of turns on her other leg. Then she asked him if he’d partner her, unsure of what that meant.

“Stand behind me,” she said. “Put your hands here, on the sides of my waist.”

Bones touched the thin layer of spandex. “Here?”

“Yes, like that. Lightly,” she said, “You don’t have to hold me up—just use your hands like a guide. It helps me stay centered.”

Touching her like this felt like a gift. It was so real. He had to force himself to ignore everything that was going on inside and concentrate on the task. Alice began to turn with even more confidence than she’d had on her own.
Twelve…thirteen, fourteen…
He knew this was the strength she’d been talking about.
Sixteen, seventeen…
She could dance all night if she wanted to.
Eighteen, nineteen, twenty…
If Dr. Chu could see her like this he’d stop ordering all those tests.

Alice landed silently as a feather. She stretched out on the floor, then slid into the splits, grabbed her ankle, and pulled herself down even farther. “Press against my lower back.”

Bones knelt down, pressing his palms into the hollow above her butt.

She sighed and bent forward even more. “Yeah, that’s the spot.”

He felt dampness through her leotard as she relaxed into the stretch. Alice smelled so good. So fresh, so real, so alive. He didn’t know how else to think about her.

Alive.

“Push a little harder,” she said. “Don’t worry, you can’t hurt me.”

They were quiet for a while and then she asked Bones to get the Preparation H from the bathroom.

He didn’t turn on the light until he was inside in case someone was outside in the hall. He looked around quickly; ribbons and scarves hung over her towel rack. The tube Lard had given her lay on the sink beside a bottle of baby oil.

Bones turned off the light and went back to his love. He sat beside her on the floor and rubbed Prep H into her feet, happier than ever at being able to help her.

At 2 a.m. they lingered awhile for a last good-night.

Moonlight muted his room.

Bones lay in bed with his eyes closed, visualizing the sheen of Alice’s smooth skin. Her long legs. The nape of her neck. Eyes opened, staring at the ceiling, or eyes closed. It didn’t matter. Not even Lard’s snoring could block the image or feel of her tiny waist in his hands.

And there she was, a vision of sexiness floating through his window, asking if she could spend the night with him. He drifted off thinking about all the things she’d do to him under the sheets. Love. Pure love. Bones awoke, wet and sticky.

“Are you kidding me?”

Lard stirred in his bed. “What now?”

“Someone squirted Elmer’s glue on my…” he said, joking to keep from being embarrassed. “Either that or I’m dying and my brains are leaking out.”

“You got it wrong, man,” Lard chuckled. “Beating off causes blindness.”

“Is that why you wear glasses?” Bones shot right back. He got to his feet, stripping to his skivvies.

Lard swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat up. “Better add more protein to your diet.”

Bones hit the shower still in his skivvies. He soaped them up and stripped all the way. He hung his skivvies to dry, toweled off, and got dressed.

“Nancy stopped by,” Lard said when Bones came out. “Thought we might want to straighten up our room in case our parents want a tour.”

Bones had nearly forgotten: Family Therapy Night.

Bones hadn’t really lied to his parents about important things, though he’d kept a million little secrets about what he thought about himself on a good day (crap) or on a bad day (shit)—and the myriad of disgusting things he’d done to lose weight. If the omission of truth equaled lies, then he was a fabricator extraordinaire.

An hour before moms and dads, sisters and brothers, and various other relatives were expected to be
fully present and in the here and now
, Bones was in his room watching Lard stalk a daddy longlegs with a piece of toilet paper.

Lard dropped on it. “Bull’s-eye!”

“You can’t be that hungry,” Bones said.

“I’m telling you, man, these family meetings can be a real clusterfuck.” Lard tossed the wad out the open window.

Bones pulled on his gloves. He’d been in endless meetings with his parents and sister and dubious therapists but never with other kids and their families and therapists. Who knew what to expect? Guess he’d play along like always, which seemed the least he could do considering the program was ridiculously expensive—forty-five hundred dollars a week. The twenty-seven thousand dollars paid by his dad’s health insurance could have covered a year’s tuition, room, and board at a state university.

Dr. Chu was rushing around like an energetic host. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he kept saying.

Bones didn’t know who he was talking to, but it was nerve-wracking when an obnoxiously imperious adult felt the need to reassure him about something. Bones figured the question marks on Dr. Chu’s tie were significant in some Freudian way.

The room looked like someone’s idea of a party. Raw vegetables marched around a bowl of yogurt dip. A pitcher of lemonade stood by a platter of lemon-iced cookies. Coffee. Nondairy creamer. Sugar cubes. A little universe of sugar and fat. Something for people to do with their hands.

Lard parked himself by the couch, rolling a toothpick between his fingers, as if trying to decide who to stab first. Teresa had removed the safety pin from her face. She looked better without it, almost pretty.

Bones turned when Alice walked in. She took his breath away, literally, in a sundress with skinny shoulder straps. She wore flat sandals and a delicate gold anklet. Flowers were woven into her hair, which fell softly around her shoulders. Almond eyes and strawberries. Add whipped cream and a cherry. Bones wanted to cover her like chocolate sauce, a forbidden sundae.

And in they came.

All looking as anxious as mice in a trap. Hugs first. Polite introductions next. Bones knew some of them had traveled a long way to be here. More than one of the girls warned her family in whispers about Dr. Chu’s propensity to lecture.

Teresa’s mom was plump with the same cocoa complexion and nervous hands. She filled a paper plate with cookies. Her dad stood back, looking uncertain. Elsie’s mom was too gaudy in DayGlo for the dreary room. Elsie didn’t have a dad; at least, he wasn’t here. Her brother seemed normal enough in cargo pants and an AzHiAzIaM T-shirt. Sarah and Nicole seemed genuinely excited to see their families. Mary-Jane welcomed her grandparents.

Lard’s mom came by herself. She was short and squat, wearing wide horizontal stripes, like she wanted to show off her size. She kissed Lard on the cheek and gave him a plastic sack. “A new apron.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Lard kissed her, taking the bag. Then he introduced her to Bones.

Bones could tell she was nice.

She smiled. “Bones?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

Lard said the cookies were sugar and fat-free. “So you can eat as many as you want.”

Lard’s mom smiled again, and Lard smiled back, and Bones realized how much Lard liked her. Dr. Chu kept adjusting his smile, shaking hand after hand like an overzealous politician.

Alice moved across the room toward a couple that had to be her parents. They wore expensive-looking suits. Hers, beige silk. High heels. His, white linen. Tom’s slip-ons, no socks. Both had practiced smiles and spray-on tans. They converged on Alice with air kisses.

Alice was right. It was like they were actors playing the part of caring parents.

Bones was beginning to worry that his parents were stuck in traffic when they finally walked in, looking as uncertain as everyone else.

“Jack!” His parents rushed past the others.

Bones nearly lost it and trembled when they pulled him into a hug, letting his arms drape over their shoulders. They felt like home and all the things he missed, even his dad’s stubbly cheek. He knew his mom would cry but didn’t expect his dad’s wet eyes. “We know it isn’t easy being in here,” his dad whispered. “We want you to know how proud we are.”

When they pulled apart, his sister said, “The house is a big empty planet without you, weirdo.” Her smile could polish the room. She had on Bones’s North Face beanie, the one with the moth hole.

Bones was about to ask his mom about the brown bag she was holding when Dr. Chu told everyone to find a seat. Elsie looked like she couldn’t wait to get this party started. Teresa looked like she couldn’t wait for it to end.

“I’ll begin with a general explanation of eating disorders,” Dr. Chu said. “Then we’ll open it up to questions. Tonight’s gathering is as much for the families as for the patients.”

Everyone waited for him to go on.

“These disorders often begin with a typical preadolescent fixation on appearance,” Dr. Chu said, showing off a few thousand dollars of knowledge. He glanced around the room, staring into people’s eyes until they had to look away or die. “That soon turns into habits, patterns, and finally becomes an obsession.”

They’d heard it all before. Their families had heard it. But the good doctor seemed compelled to repeat it for those who may have suffered from chronic memory loss.

He stood center stage in a theater in the round, never missing an opportunity to give an audience something to digest.