Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1) Page 9

  “I want to begin by saying that I’m not going to share anything we discuss with your Mom.”

  “Unless you think I’m going to harm myself or others?”

  Nadine smiled without showing her teeth. “That’s right.”

  “And you’ve talked to other people with eating… problems before?” I still couldn’t say it. Not out loud.

  “Yes,” Nadine said. “Unfortunately, it’s not as uncommon as you might think.”

  “And do people get better?”

  “Yes. They do. All the time.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “Can you tell me how long your problems with food have been going on?”

  I shrugged. “A few years.” I didn’t think she needed to know that it had been exactly four years next month since I first stuck a spoon down my throat and made myself gag.

  “When was the last time you purged?”

  “The day my Mom caught me,” I said.

  I had binged since then, but I hadn’t been able to purge because my parents wouldn’t leave me alone long enough. But I wished they would. It would make me feel a lot less shitty to throw up those extra calories than to absorb them. It would probably be healthier for me, too.

  I mean, I knew they were trying to help, but removing the lock on my bedroom door hadn’t exactly felt like a vote of confidence.

  Nadine continued in a soft voice. “Can you tell me how you feel right before you binge?”

  “Stressed sometimes, but mostly really hungry,” I said. “Usually, it’ll be after practice, and I’ll be starving.”

  “Do you feel hungry a lot?”

  I nodded. “I try to. I mean, I like that growling sensation that tells me my stomach is empty. That makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

  “Do you know you’re going to binge before you take your first bite?”

  “Sometimes, yeah.”

  “What about the other times?”

  “Other times I start off thinking I’m just going to eat a normal amount, but then something snaps and all of a sudden I’m binging again.”

  “What does that feel like? When you snap?”

  “It’s like I’ve strapped myself to a roller coaster, and I can’t get off until I binge and purge.”

  “What do you think causes you to cross that line?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s just a matter of taking one too many bites and suddenly realizing I’ve had more than I should’ve. Then I have to throw up.” I pulled my sleeves over my hands. “And if I have to throw up anyway, I might as well eat some more crap that I usually deny myself.”

  “What do you usually deny yourself?”

  “Junk food,” I said. “Chocolate. Carbs. Fast food.”

  Nadine nodded and wrote something on the clipboard in her lap. “And have you tried to stop?”

  “Yeah. Every time I do it I’m convinced it’s going to be the last time.”

  “How much does it take to set you off?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, let’s say I was eating some French fries and offered you some,” she said, pushing her hair behind her shoulder. “What would you do?”

  “I would say I’d already eaten or that I wasn’t hungry.”

  “And if I insisted and said I couldn’t eat them all myself?”

  I wouldn’t believe you. “I might eat one.”

  “And would you want to make yourself sick?”

  “Not if I just had one,” I said. “But if I ate a handful of yours- or a whole order myself- it might set me off.”

  “And then how do you feel?”

  “You mean while I’m binging?”

  “Yeah.”

  I squinted for a moment. “Distracted.”

  “Distracted?”

  “Yeah. Like I’m so focused on the binging and purging ahead I don’t worry about anything else.”

  She swallowed. “So it takes your mind off everything else?”

  I nodded.

  “And then you throw up to…?”

  “Avoid the consequences.”

  “How do you feel after you’ve purged.”

  “Good and bad.”

  “Why good?”

  “Cause I feel empty, and I know I’ve undone all the eating I did.”

  “And why does it feel bad?”

  “Because I know it’s not healthy.”

  “So you’re here because you want to stop the cycle?”

  Of course I wanted to stop. I was sick of it. Eating, binging, purging, starving myself, eating, binging...It just went on and on. Like Groundhog Day.

  But I’d come to the conclusion that adding “Nadine Time” to my routine wasn’t the answer. Because as soon as I admitted how abnormal I was to a complete stranger, I felt more fucked in the head than ever.

  So I folded my arms and leaned back on the couch.

  “I’m here because my Mom asked me to come.”

  Chapter 18: Dawn

  It would be easy for me to disappear. Depressingly so. Ten years ago- when I had more obligations and boyfriends- people would’ve noticed if I went missing. Maybe even cared.

  Now it was simple.

  I needed to find a home for Snarls and refer my clients elsewhere. Tina would miss me, of course, but she would be fine. She had loads of friends, many of whom were much more refined and easier to bring places than me anyway.

  In fact, the last time she invited me out with them was a disaster. It was for dinner and the opening night of a play she and her husband Ed helped fund.

  She asked me to dress conservatively. None of my clothes made the cut. In the end, she let me borrow an expensive beaded dress of hers and a pair of satin high heeled shoes.

  And I was on my best behavior the whole night. Until I got caught with the bartender in the coat room. I never saw the play. Though I’m sure I saw enough of the bartender to make up for it.

  Anyway, as I searched for trips abroad where it would be fun and cheap to die, it looked like Ecuador was the way to go. But something was niggling at me. My family.

  Though I pretended they were all dead to me most of the time, a few of them were still very much alive. And it bothered me that they didn’t know I cared. Because I was a coward. Because I was afraid of the rejection I believed I deserved. So I kept them at a distance and told myself it was easier that way. For everyone.

  But it was for purely selfish reasons that I’d pushed them away when I was younger. I thought they were too judgmental. Lame even. They didn’t fit in with my lifestyle, my friends, my drinking schedule.

  And now I was dying and it was too late. I couldn’t take it all back, couldn’t just call to say I was sorry for everything. They would instantly assume I was calling because I needed something. And they would be right. And when they found out that what I needed was sympathy, unconditional love, and company in my final days, it would be asking too much.

  And even if they were willing to help, how could they not resent me for asking?

  I wondered if things might be different if I had something to leave them. Snarls was a love hungry burden. But I did have a closet full of cool clothes. Some of them had even been worn by famous people. I have a vest that Kate Moss left in my friend’s tent at a music festival. I have a belt buckle that belonged to Lenny Kravitz. Or maybe he just had one like it; I can’t remember.

  I even have a t-shirt that James Hetfield gave me after one of his band mates barfed on me at an after party. Not that he would remember. If I didn’t have the shirt, I wouldn’t either. But those items might be worth something on eBay. If I could ever prove where I got them.

  Then again, they’re probably only special to me.

  Actual cash would be an ideal parting gift. I’ve always believed that money, like time, has great healing powers. Unfortunately, the money I had wasn’t enough to buy my family's affection after death.

  Still, it didn’t seem right to leave without a trace. Even if I could convince myself that they wouldn’t
care if I disappeared, at least one person deserved an explanation. To be honest, I knew she deserved a lot more than an explanation. But at the very least, I could try and give her that much.

  It was this nagging desire to make things right that was heckling me day and night. It was keeping me from booking my trip and getting on with what was left of my life. It was the reason why I was drunk and surrounded by a mess of crumpled papers for the third night in a row.

  But I couldn’t get the words right. Every letter ended with me saying I wished I could go back and do things differently. Which didn’t help anyone.

  A few months ago, I thought I still had decades to make amends. Instead, I had to make my confessions in a hurry, without knowing whether the person I was trying to reach even cared.

  And if she did, could she ever forgive me?

  Chapter 19: Kate

  I was only in the Student Leader’s Club at school because I thought it would look good on my college application. I got out of almost everything required to retain my membership because I was a varsity athlete.

  But there was one thing I couldn’t get out of and that was leading freshman retreat. The idea was to give the students a chance to meet some new people second semester once they got settled. But the only thing I remember about mine was feeling embarrassed for the Baby Sitter’s Club rejects that organized it.

  Hopefully, my assigned partner and I would be better received.

  Assuming he wasn’t a loser.

  I agreed to meet him at his house so we could both avoid the humiliation of him meeting my Mom. He lived at the end of a long, tree lined driveway that smelled like damp leaves and was littered with kid’s bikes. The house itself was smaller than mine and overgrown with vines, but cute. Like a hobbit designed it.

  I was nervous when I knocked on the door because I didn’t know what to expect. Kevin wasn’t exactly popular at school, but he also didn’t seem to be particularly bothered by that. Like he didn’t really try to fit in, but he didn’t get picked on either.

  To be honest, I wasn’t even sure who his friends were. All I knew was that Annie said she’d seen him at a few college parties. But since I’d never been to one, I didn’t know how that was supposed to help me.

  And even though it sounds horrible, sometimes it’s just easier when you can prejudge a person. It can be unsettling to have to make up your own mind because what if you’re wrong? I mean, one minute you think someone’s cool and you say so. And the next week you find out they have a wild bird they allow to nest in their unwashed hair. And all of a sudden everyone decides that you must be a freak, too, because you vouched for them.

  Anyway, when the door opened and there was no one there, I looked down, half expecting to see a hobbit. Instead, there was a small girl who couldn’t have been more than five or six staring up at me. She was wearing a pink and white polka dotted bath robe and a crown.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I said. “Is Kevin here?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “My name is Kate.”

  “You’re pretty.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “So are you. I like your crown.”

  “Would you like to wear one, too?” She stuck a small corner of her sleeve in her mouth and chewed it. “We could play princesses.”

  “Would it be okay if we did that another time?” I asked. “I came to see Kevin today. Is he here?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Maybe you could both play princesses!”

  “Does Kevin like to play princesses?”

  “Sometimes he does.”

  The door opened further and Kevin’s face peaked around the door. “Kate. Hey.”

  “Kate came to play princesses,” the little girl said, looking up at him.

  Kevin squatted down next to her. “Kate and I have to work on a project for school, Jenny, but if we have time to play princesses, I’ll let you know.”

  Jenny crossed her arms.

  “Maybe Amy will play with you?”

  Jenny’s shoulders dropped along with her face. Then she scrambled off, presumably to proposition Amy.

  “Nice to meet you, Jenny,” I said, but she had already disappeared around the corner.

  “Come on in,” Kevin said. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. She’s sweet.”

  He rolled his eyes. “The line between playing and being a princess is a very thin one for her.”

  I smiled.

  “Are you happy to work on the back porch?” he said. “The house can get a little cramped when everyone’s home.”

  “Everyone?”

  “There’s seven of us.”

  “Oh,” I said. “The porch is fine.”

  “You want something to drink? Lemonade? Coke?”

  “Lemonade would be nice.”

  The house smelled strongly of artificial pine, and I was relieved when he let me out the back door.

  “I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Okay.” I pulled my red jacket around me and followed the stone path towards the back porch. I could hear Kevin yelling inside.

  “Steven! You are officially in charge. Leave your door open so you can listen out for the girls! Steven?! Make a noise so I know you heard me?...Steven!...Thank you.”

  The porch was small, but their large yard extended all the way to woods at the back. I flicked some leaves off the green and white cushions and sat down at the wrought iron patio table.

  Kevin appeared a second later with two glasses of lemonade.

  “Sweet yard.”

  “Glad you like it,” he said, creases forming around his hazel eyes.

  I nodded towards an area in the far corner of the yard where some logs were set up in a square. “You have bonfires over there a lot?”

  “Occasionally.”

  “Cool,” I said, wondering who was privy to such gatherings. I felt him staring at me, but when I turned he moved his eyes out to the woods.

  He leaned back in his chair. “Do you mind if I smoke,” he asked, slipping his fingers in the pocket of his black and green flannel shirt.

  I stared at the joint between his fingers.

  “If you’d rather I didn’t I’ll-”

  “No. It’s cool. Go ahead.” I looked over my shoulder.

  “My parents aren’t home if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “And the kids?”

  “Otherwise occupied.”

  “Oh. Okay, then.”

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as he held the joint in front of him, rolling one end in the flame of his lighter. When the paper started to burn so it looked like a glowing cigarette, he dragged on it twice and held his breath.

  I’d seen lots of kids smoke pot at parties. Or rather, I’d seen small groups of people skulk off to do it. But I’d never been right next to anyone while they got high.

  Kevin pinched the joint between his fingers and held it out to me. “Want some?”

  I honestly didn’t know. But it did smell a lot sweeter than the cigarette stench I was used to.

  “Might help us brainstorm something good for the retreat.”

  I looked from his face to the joint and back again. Something in his eyes intrigued me. They looked sharp. Like he could see right through me. And like he didn’t really give a shit whether I wanted some or not.

  He extended his hand a little closer to me, and I watched the thin trail of smoke rise in the air between us.

  “Okay,” I said.

  I dragged on the joint like it was a cigarette. The smoke burned my throat and made my eyes water. A second later I was coughing my brains out.

  He grinned but didn’t laugh.

  “So much for acting like I’d done that before,” I said, passing it back to him.

  “Some people say you get way higher if you cough.”

  “Really?” I squeaked, reaching for my lemonade.

  “Something to do with sucking all that oxygen in and forcing the smoke back in your lungs.”


  I took a drink and let the lemonade soothe my throat. “Good to know.”

  “Aren’t you friends with Annie?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you’ve never gotten high before?”

  I shook my head. “Why?”

  “I’m just surprised. She’s always high when I see her out.”

  “Yeah, well…” I said, trying to act like that wasn’t news to me. “How come I never see you out?”

  Kevin shrugged.

  I wondered what his thick black curls would feel like between my fingers.

  “I mostly hang out with kids from New Prescott,” he said. “That’s where all my friends went to high school.”

  “So why didn’t you go there?”

  “My parents can be kind of strict,” he said. “They wanted me to go to a school where I couldn’t skip class and get away with it.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Some country club fundraiser thing.” He puffed on the joint and held it in.

  “There’s an idea,” I said. “We could try and raise money for something on our frosh retreat day.”

  “Go on.”

  “We could have a bake sale or organize a food drive or something-“

  “Or just tell the kids they can wear jeans if they pay a dollar, and we’ll give the money to charity.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not bad,” he said. “Doesn’t sound quite as exciting as playing icebreakers all day or running sack races, but-”

  “Sack races?”

  “It was a joke.” He passed me the joint.

  I dragged on it more gently this time as if I were sucking the smoke through a tiny straw and held it in like I’d seen him do.

  “So was Ian cool with you coming over here?”

  I shot him a look. “Ian? I didn’t tell him.”

  “Oh.”

  I scrunched my brow. “Why?”

  “I thought you guys were a thing.”

  “A thing.” The expression was almost as vague as our relationship.

  “You’re not?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Did being “a thing” mean hooking up on the weekends? Cause that was the extent of what we had going on. In fact, I was starting to think he was never going to ask me out. And I wasn’t sure if I even wanted that anymore.