And Then We Fell Apart (18+)

chapter 25

Sam goes back to school on Sunday after we don't leave each other's sides even once in the few days he's home. The second I finish eating breakfast with my mom in the morning— because that's still a promise I have to keep— we're together.

We watch movies downstairs, I show him some of my paintings I've worked on, and he even sits and eats lunch with me while my mom is at work. Only he doesn't sit and watch me like everyone else, he distracts me by showing me more pictures in his gallery that he's taken.

It works, because I eat my lunch every single day he's home.

When he's back at school, we talk even more than before. He calls me everyday after school and before bed, and we talk on instant messaging in between it all.

It's like he's still here, in a way. It makes everything so much easier.

I have one slip up right before Christmas but when I talk to the doctor about it for my one on one session, she tells me it's okay. She says that slip-ups don't erase progress, they make progress. And progress isn't linear. She said that my regret for the break in my recovery is a telling sign that I'm healing, and that should be enough of a reward.

It sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but I try not to be so jaded.

As a matter of fact, I try to look at the silver lining. When I pull some of my clothes on from Holly's little sister, they fit me. There was a brief time when everything was too big, and I made myself hide under sweatshirts and sweaters.

In my group session, I tell my peers that I'm going to try to wear something for Christmas this year that doesn't entirely hide my frame from everyone.

I opt for jeans and a black sweater that is fitted on Christmas Eve, a small strip of skin showing between the two articles of clothing. When I look in my mirror I'm not entirely bothered by my body.

I've learned that a common misconception of an eating disorder is that your goal is to be as small as you possibly can. But that's not true. It's about the fixation of your weight, your food intake, and the obsession bleeding so far into your daily life that you miss out on the things around you.

My worry was that I was too big, then too small, then way too small, then too big. It's been nothing less than a rollercoaster that never ends.

So today, I try to accept myself as I look and try not to think about the appearance of my body or what others think of it.

And because I get to see Sam today for the first time in a couple of weeks, I use that as motivation to do my makeup too. I haven't done it in a while. I want to feel pretty.

Of course, he makes me feel like the most beautiful person in the world the second I walk into the house. He holds onto me for a long time, telling me I look great and he's so happy to be home for a few weeks.

But it's all in the way he looks at me, that soft smile on his lips while his eyes move slowly over my face like he's mesmerized. I'm caught mirroring his movements every now and again throughout the day, unable to help myself.

Stella invites Holly and Max over too, and they show after dinner. Everyone gets along, and it's all okay.

"You ever gonna take this thing off?" I ask quietly while everyone else converses around us in the living room. My index finger traces along the black elastic that's been around his wrist since we were fifteen.

He shrugs. His arm brushes mine because we're so close beside each other on the couch. "I probably won't. I like it. It makes me feel like you're always with me no matter where I go."

"That's not fair," I furrow my eyebrows with a playful smile on my lips.

"What's that?"

"I'm always with you, but then I have to face everything on my own without you?"