When he finally visits, he arrives
with the meal trays. Exactly
the wrong time, on the anorexia
ward. I’m sitting at the common
table with my back to that skeptical
camera and so I’m the last to see him.
Everyone else has stopped moving.
All of us embarrassed to be caught
eating. I have waited so long
and now I just want him to leave
because he has seen me
with a fork raised, quivering.
Nurse takes him away like she would
a sharp object - with grim
determination, mild annoyance.
We go back to things. David humming
and rocking. Kelly dicing her chicken
into perfect, miniscule cubes. It’s hard for me
to breathe, to keep the rice on the fork
long enough to get it in my mouth.
I am sixteen years old and the life
I was supposed to be having
was just framed in the doorway.
A boy knocking at dinnertime.
At home, I would have asked
to be excused, rushed to comb my hair.
He needs a laminated pass to
come see me, punches in a secret
combination to leave. Nurse makes him
take the paper sack he’s brought
with him. For the rest of my life
I will belong to this boy and
his cupcake rescue, his quart of whole
milk. O Orpheus of the varsity
wrestling team, with your driver’s license
shiny in your pocket - you’re my ticket
out of here. Come back. Salty lithium,
this intravenous currently wired
to my wrist, the insistent feeding
tubes - Everything in my world
is relentless. Except you.
