regular pulse of reverberating sounds in the hospital corridors and neighbouring roomsâcascading water within the walls from running taps and flushing toilets, the murmuring of staff and sleepwalking patients. Like a ball tossed into the air, at the zenith of its ascent, there was complete blissful stillnessfor a moment before it began its inevitable descent. The window then seemed to grow when dawn filled it with light. The hum of distant buses and trains rose as the world geared up for rush hour. Doors opened and closed, and the hallways echoed with the shuffling of soft shoes and low murmurs as the tired night guard exited, replaced with a rested one. The clicking of heels became incrementally louder, sharper. A brief pause at the door, then, âLila, itâs weight day.â
I made the three-pound gain. I was relieved. I was devastated. I had gained exactly 3.21 pounds, making my total weight 74.21 pounds. Nearly seventy-five. Less than I had weighed in grade five, more than I could support at eighteen. Despite the relief that came from not having to be tube fed, the shock of having gained so much weight, even on 1,500 calories a day, brought on my usual guilt and desperation. I was paralyzed physically and psychically drained.
Ninety minutes after breakfast, I was permitted to shower. I didnât want to disrobe and see my bloated nakedness, but I had to get rid of the hoarded food, which was already creating an odour in my room. I was worried that the cleaning staff might have wondered about it. I neatly crammed as much food as I could into two rolled-up towels, tucked tightly under one arm, made my way to the bathroom, and locked the door. I dumped the food into the garbage can and covered it up with a thick layer of scrunched-up paper towels. Then I ran the shower and dabbed some water onto my hair so that it would look as if Iâd showered.
I graduated to Phase One. I had earned the privilege of leaving my bed without repercussion. I could roam my cell and scrutinizeeach floor tile and try to distract myself, if only temporarily, from my fanatical obsession with calories, food, and weight. I counted exactly 134 tiles in my room. The north-east corner tile was particularly yellow, and water damage had created an unusual mosaic of deformed faces on it. I stood dead centre on tile number fifty-six, and in six minutes, lunch would arrive. I was so lonely and scared I could die.
Finally, after three weeks of isolation in the hospital, I was about to speak to my mother for the first time. I was allowed a ten-minute phone call. I sat in the cold nursing station and felt my hot breath against the receiver as I began to dial. My own phone number became entangled in my mind with the digits pin-balling around in my mental library of calories. I hung up and crossed my arms, then tried again.
âHow have you been, Lila? Dr Messer tells me you have gained a little weightââ
âYeah,â I interrupted her. âI also went up a phase.â
âOoooh!â Mother exhaled like sheâd been holding her breath for months. âYou see, you can do this, Lila. I know you can.â
My body melted in my chair.
âDid you go to the bathroom? Are you pooping alright?â
âYes, Mother. I havenât pooped like this my whole life.â
âWhat did you eat?â
âA lot. I ate carrot and raisin salad. It was awful.â
âYou see? If you were home you would be eating proper food.â
Then I heard Dadâs voice.
âHello, hello. How are you? Did you gain, then?â
âYes, Dad.â
âExcellent!â Then a beat of silence. âOkay, then. So when can we come to visit?â
âWhen I get to Phase Two.â
âGood.â More silence. âHave you been taking pictures?â
âNo, Iâm I not allowed to have my camera.â
âWhy not?â
I twisted the phone cord around my finger. âThatâs Phase
Helena Newbury
Casey L. Bond
Rachel Humphrey - D'aigle
Michael Swanwick
Unknown Author
Debbie Macomber
Jason Erik Lundberg
Ramsey Campbell
Marie Force
Pamela Ann