Chapter Twenty Two - October 15, 2019 [✔]

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I lay in bed, earbuds in place

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I lay in bed, earbuds in place. On the other end, Wyatt's voice crackled through the line. His words strained with the effort of speaking and driving at the same time.

"Zayde," Wyatt explained, "It's not safe to keep it at the beach house anymore."

I pictured his father having a bad reaction to the Milo painting. Destroying the canvas, tossing out Wyatt's art materials, and canceling his art lessons. He couldn't have found it. Wyatt would not be this calm over the phone if he did.

"He found it?" I gasped.

Wyatt assured me that his dad hadn't seen it. He explained that Mr. Maganlith frequented Michelle—the beach house—and brought his flings there. Gross. There was a close call a few days ago. The precious cargo needed to be moved. It made sense to bring it to my house. His dad would never have to see it.

When Wyatt arrived at my house, we tucked it into a dark part of my walk-in closet. He referenced artist jargon: light exposure and humidity.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

He pushed aside an old shoebox, "What is all this?"

A stack of small red notebooks neatly lined into rows. Every single weigh in flashed before my eyes. Wyatt didn't know about the weigh-ins. It was a shameful part of my life that I refused to share with him. I tucked those notebooks away, discarded the feelings they brought up, and forgot about them.

Due to my family's breakthrough at Uncle Raylon's, Mom ceased the weigh-ins. She relinquished control over my physical body.

Why didn't I throw the notebooks away?

Why couldn't I throw them away?

"Old diaries."

"You? A diary?" he didn't buy it. "That doesn't add up."

I readjusted the shoebox at lightning speed. I regretted returning to my bad habit of lying. Lying was safer than explaining my complicated food relationship with food. I wouldn't explore that cave until I was ready.

 I wouldn't explore that cave until I was ready

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