Evergreen Everleigh - The Wattys 2020

Chapter Twenty-Four - Ghost Boy

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ghost Boy

Through my red gingham dress, I can feel the scab on my stomach that had been a cut not so long ago. It healed quickly, but sometimes I still press it late at night and relish the ache it gives me.

"You're not listening to me, are you?" Cedar's disapproving voice snaps me from my reverie and I give him a sheepish smile. Cedar and I had been in the kitchen for the better part of an evening, as Cedar had taken it upon himself to teach me the basics of cooking and baking. Currently, he is wielding an egg poacher as though it were a sword and looking distinctly displeased.

"I swear this is thrilling," I cross a hand over my heart and gesture to the poacher. "I've always wanted to know what exactly that yoke, does."

"Wow, an egg pun, your parents must be so proud of you," Cedar feigns a frown, but I can see the corners of his mouth twitching. I laugh, a deep, rumbling laugh that begins in the base of my stomach. Cedar looks a little startled and I wonder if this is the first time I have ever laughed in front of him. This sorrowful thought makes my smile falter.

"So, is the vegetable lasagna done?" I ask, pretending to sniff the air like a cat.

Lasagna had been Henry's favourite dinner since he could eat solids. I had never eaten a full plate, but every Saturday night I ordered some for myself so that Henry didn't have to eat his alone.

"It smells beautiful," I say, standing up and tightening my yellow ribbon in my hair in one swift movement.

Cedar pulls the lasagna dish from the oven and I can feel salvia flooding my mouth.

He prods it experimentally with a knife and nibbles a bit off the edge.

"It is beautiful," He concurs, grinning.

"I think that whoever chopped the celery really made the difference," I say.

A laugh from the doorway grabs both of our attention and I see Wister leaning against the doorframe. He looks from me to the lasagne and smiles. I will have to remember to comment on his lack of subtlety in our next session.

"Cedar, are you ready?" He asks and Cedar drops the knife back onto the table and turns to me, giving me a deep bow.

"It was a pleasure to teach you, young master," He grins and I have to fight the urge to reach out and hug him as I'm not entirely sure that we're on that level yet.

When I am alone, the smell of the lasagna fills my nostrils and I look at the bubbling cheese for a moment. I think back to breakfast when I ate two slices of toast. I had moved from no breakfast to one slice to two so swiftly that my head was still reeling from the change, even with the vinegar helping with the guilt. I closed my eyes and thought of what Wister had asked me in my last session.

Do you ever feel full?

No. I had been honest with him and myself, but it didn't mean I was ready to change that fact. But perhaps I could have a taste.

I take a fork from the cutlery drawer and pierce a small portion. I don't care if it burns my mouth. When it hits my tongue, I groan and lean against the counter. Darkness is falling fast over the kitchen as night begins. With every single shadow that grows longer, I find myself taking another bite of the lasagna that is meant to feed thirteen. The food breaks down on my tongue and I close my eyes and imagine every bite passing from my mouth down my throat and to my stomach. Wister told me to constantly challenge what I think about food and myself, so I try to imagine the food moving as scientifically everybody knows it does. And yet, with every bite I find myself seeing the food never reaching my stomach but absorbing immediately into my cells where it sticks like a slime that congeals and cannot be moved.