Truth be told, the next morning I was far from fine. The little things like thinking about New Year's Eve parties and thoughts about having to deal with Nev and Kamie transformed me into my own personal storm, lightning bolts shocking my skin and burning molten flesh into a tragic combination. Driving to work the next morning in the rain, I felt like something was wrong but I was unsure of what it was, and that feeling, that sensation bothered me so much that I nearly missed the traffic signal turning red.
Andrei not responding after telling me not to come to his game didn't exactly help me, either, so I debated texting him again but I eventually never did because I didn't was to self-sabotage Nev and Kamie's investigation. I didn't want to taint their work with something as trivial as my unknown emotions. My body felt heavy, my thoughts wander carelessly, and it seemed like my grave is already early in a land full of nightmares.
It's frustrating why I'm like this, and I feel a pang of crimson agony as I get out of my vehicle and try to avoid the rain the best I can, hair falling around my shoulders and air oddly humid for a winter morning. Snap out of it, I think to myself. What's wrong with me?
The question brands itself on my stomach, and although I desperately try to search for an answer, I can't come up with a solution. It's like an everlasting scar settling on my cheekbone or a mosquito bite right on the ankle: unsolvable, damaging, and conflicting. I feel useless and inarticulate, resembling something of a flickering lucid dream.
Unlocking the door to my office, I think to myself, it was a relief that most of my coworkers had not arrived yet. I drag myself to the kitchen to make myself a hot cup of green tea before leaning on the edge of the countertop and just staring as the raindrops dance mockingly on the windows sill.
I stand there, head empty, I don't think about how tears stain my lash line. No, of course not.
I don't think about that at all.
Why do I hurt so much?
"Good morning Alyssa!" Cheered our office manager, Staci.
"Hi," I sniffed quickly, wiping away my tear as quickly as possible, "how are you?"
"Not good," she huffs back before putting her typical goofy expression on her face, "that is until I have my morning coffee."
I turn away from her to blink away any glistening emotions left in my irises, letting myself melt into my strength. "Funny as always Staci, see you later."
"Morning." Alex greeted me from the doorway of his office, shutting the door behind him.
I wasn't able to bring myself to sleep last night, my thoughts running rampant with hateful words written in blue text message bubbles, Alex's footsteps thudding the halls with vigor. The bags under my eyes hopefully reflected my mood.
"Have you been crying?" Alex asked with hesitation in an attempt to make small talk once I proved I did not feel like conversing with him.
I pondered not answering, but the concerned look on my coworker's face gave me the incentive to part my lips and whisper out a short response.
"I'm fine."
"Fine?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?" I hadn't meant to become snarky, but the words had simply slipped out.
I didn't want to talk about yesterday.
"AJ?" He questioned in disbelief.
I shook my head, running my hands through my blonde hair anxiously, praying that Alex wouldn't pressure me anymore. I wasn't sure I had the mental strength to relive yesterday's events over and over again, but Alex was concerned and persistent, and he seemed adamant not to let awkward silence befall us.
"Is it safe to assume this is about the 'boyfriend' who's not your boyfriend?"
I had been hoping he wouldn't bring up Andrei and I found myself suddenly becoming tense at the memory of Andrei sending my flowers to the office in apology.
A part of me wanted to reach out and text him, to reconcile what had been broken last night, but another part of me was also scared at the prospect of confronting him, terrified at the idea of what other excuses he would try to shove down my throat, and utterly disgusted as the prospect of hearing more of lightly hurtful things he might have to say.
I shook my head at him, my hands writhing together as I took the clipboard in his hands away from him. Heading towards the medical reception, my footsteps echoed off the walls, and there was still a small voice in my head reminding me of all the silly things pestering me in my life at the moment. As the reception desk came into view, I joined the short line of dieticians waiting to pick up their patients, noticing how quickly it dwindled to nothing.
"Can you call back Dr. Lane and I's next patient to examine room number five?" I asked politely, sliding the clipboard across the desk so that she could look it over and ask the premeditated dietary questionary on the way back to the room.
"Sure thing," the middle-aged woman behind the counter said, checking over the details I'd handed her and taking the paper.
"Thanks."
"No problem," She said handing me back an empty clipboard, "It's a little early for Alexa though isn't it? Talking your ear off first thing in the morning."
Her words were heavy with humor as I visibly shuttered at the thought of having to deal with the troubled teen so early in the morning. The sweet girl I had been tasked with always seemingly enjoyed my company a little too much.
The woman saw my grimace as I nodded in confirmation and let out a laugh. "Don't worry, her dad brought her this morning, so hopefully she won't have too much to talk about," she said with amusement.
I smiled wryly at the thought of working here for a while longer. It might not always be the most glamorous job in the world, but it was what I wanted to do with my life. "Great, looking forward to hearing it anyways."
Depending on the type of day, Alex and I try to see all of our patients in the morning and make recommendations and get charting done early, and spend our evenings responding to emails, complaints, concerns, and reviews of the previous day's reports. Occasionally I'll attend different committee meetings such as quality, infection control, departmental, etc. And end my day following up on pending items, new consults, patient phone calls, and scheduling. The second half of my day is essentially sitting and spending my time on the phone and computer. It was a quick and easy day, it made my job more lovable.
But when our day starts with Alexa, it drags on and on forever because of the delicacy of her mental state.
The waiting room was only two hallways away, and as soon as Alexa was in sight she rushed down the hallways to meet me. I greeted her while doing quick calculations in my head after looking at the analytics on her paperwork that was handed to me.
"Ms. Johnson." She spoke carefully, her eyes softening with worry as her gaze met mine, "Are you alright? Because you look like you've been crying."
My lips pulled up tiredly as I jumped it. "I just didn't get much sleep last night that's all." The words were true but a guilty taste lingered on my tongue afterward. "I'm fine really. You don't need to worry."
I wasn't fine, I was disoriented, exhausted, tired, and currently experiencing a headache as a result of my lack of sleep, but I couldn't admit that to a patient. I'd worked hard for this job and had made so much progress, I wasn't ready to stumble backward. I could get a hold of my emotions. I'd done it before and I could do it again.
Swallowing hard, hoping that she didn't catch the slight waver in my voice, I let out a silent breath of relief when she accepted my reply a few moments later. "Okay, did your sister bring her dog yet? Can I see a picture of him?"
"Later." I smiled at her looking at her chart once more noticing a change in her weight. "Alexa, you're weights going down. What's going on?"
"The high protein diet just isn't working for me." She frowned, I could feel her genuine disappointment. "It doesn't make me feel good."
"It doesn't make you feel good?"
"No."
I pause to think for a moment, pursing my lips outwards before speaking, "How about we try something new, something called intuitive eating."
"What is that? I've never heard of that diet." She shakes her head at me confused.
"It's not a diet, it's not a tool for weight loss or weight gain, or anything in that sense," I say setting the clipboard down as her eyes light up at my statement. "It's not just eating when you're hungry and stopping when you're full, and it's not just giving up on all the progress we've made with you not eating anything at all and me telling you to just eat whatever you want."
"I still don't understand." The young girl pushes her curls off her face. "What am I supposed to eat then and when?"
"It's about trusting your body, trusting the signs it's giving you, trusting the hunger cues, the fullness cues. It's about understanding what a true normal eater is and having that trust in your body to ask for what it needs and then building on that trust by giving it what it's asking for."
"So if my brain says don't eat, don't eat?"
"So for me, intuitive eating is food freedom. Eating food that I love and also foods that make me and my body feel good, eating my soul with foods that my inner child loves, nostalgic foods. Being an intuitive eater means understanding that there is nothing healthy or unhealthy about food based on its nutritional value."
"So if I want ice cream cake, I can just eat ice cream cake whenever I want with no consequences?"
"Yes! If your body tells you that you want ice cream cake, do it. Food can have more nutritional density than other foods, but that doesn't necessarily make it healthier or less healthy for us. It's okay to leave the table a little bit hungry because you weren't satisfied with what you had, it's also okay to leave the table a little bit full on every other day that isn't, you know, thanksgiving because you're allowed to be full."
"That makes a lot of sense." She tilts her head, I could almost visually see the wheels turning inside her brain. "It's like being proud of yourself without judgment of what food is going to do to my body."
"Yes!" I impulsively jumped up and cheered. "The food is going to nourish and fuel your body and your soul. It's what helps you have beautiful hair, what helps you grow your nails, what helps you keep muscle in your body, it's what helps you insulate your body. All of that stuff keeps your internal organs working, we don't have to be afraid of food."
Suddenly the door opens and Dr. Lane appears in the doorway, I hadn't even realized I had spent nearly forty minutes of my time with Alexa talking about intuitive eating.
"Am I interrupting?"
"No, not at all," I replied, furring my eyebrows as I tried to think of a way to put this conversation on hold without losing the progress I'd made. "Alexa, are there any questions you have before I go?"
"No, I don't think so." She shook her quickly. "I can't wait to tell you about it next time."
I let out a fake chuckle, making my way to the doorway. "Sorry to let you down Alexa, but I'm taking a little trip soon so I might not be able to meet with you next time."
"Really?" She frowns once again.
"I can't tell you where I'm going or what I'm doing yet, but trust me when it's all over you'll love my story."
Her lips pulled upward into a soft smile. "I can't wait."
In the duration of the hours to follow I managed to complete: review a draft of a chapter on growth and nutrition one of my coworkers had written for a pediatric cardiology textbook, create and email a patient an adjustment made to their nutrition care plan, explain to a disgruntled parent how important a vitamin D supplement can be when recovering from an eating disorder, and take note and continue to track progression on patient records their body weight growth.
"What did you say to Alexa this morning?" Alex asks sitting down in one of my office chairs, as I look up from my laptop. "That was the most she's ever complied for me. I can tell it's really important for you to help her."
"I don't know if you're familiar with intuitive eating, but she was really into it," I said, not really sure how to elaborate much more on it without dragging on about it.
"I don't know much, but I know the basics." He ruffled a hand through his hair, and I couldn't help but graze my teeth against my lips to stop my mouth from opening to speak about something I was so passionate about. "But if it works with her maybe I should read up on it, might help some of the other patients. Or maybe we can sit down and talk about it for a while. I like seeing the way your face lights up when you talk about something you really care about."
I blink slowly, processing something I probably shouldn't be right at this very moment. My heart is beating too fast, and adrenaline shoots through my veins like hot whiskey. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but Alex's phone rings loudly.
"Hey I'm sorry, but I've got to leave early. I have a buddy who's in town who wants to meet later for drinks."
I try for a smile, but nothing really comes out. Deep down, I wish he would just stay for a moment more and talk.
Sometimes I wonder if being alone isn't always what I want, even though that's what I tell myself most of the time. I fill up all my time texting Andrei when I could be making connections outside of cyberspace. Humanity must be cruel for perfecting the art of deception.
I clear my throat. "Yeah, I understand, for sure. Thanks for saying that, it was sweet."
The boy with midnight hair stands up and stretches like a cat, a thin sliver of tan skin showing beneath his clothing. "You could always come with me? Maybe you can strike up a conversation with his wife so she'll actually let me talk."
I find my voice, even though it's scratchy and rough around the edges. "Oh, that's okay. I don't want to impose."
He offers a soft tilt of his lips as well as a hand up. "Sounded like a curve."
I take it. Our hands brush in the slightest manner, and it's enough for an electric shock to go through my body. He's so, warm and the feeling of his hands against mine is a foreign sensation, stirring the nerves in my stomach and igniting them with lavender-tinted flames.
"It's not," I whisper and shake my head. "You should actually come out with me and my friends for New Year's Saturday."
Alex laughs quietly. "Sure, you can text me the details sometime."
My cheeks are burning hot. "I, um, don't have your number."
He bent down and grabbed a purple pen from my desk, and uncapping it, he scribbles a series of numbers on the edge of a sticky notepad. His penmanship is sloppy and yet somehow naturally masculine, the slant of his handwriting confident and easy.
"There," he beams at me, I was still trying to figure out my emotions about this whole ordeal. Just thirty minutes ago, it had been Andrei that was on my mind, not my coworker. I bite the inside of my mouth: a bad habit that had developed to prevent myself from blurting out stupid things. Not to mention, I've never gotten anyone's number before, not even a boy's. "My buddy and his wife leave Saturday morning so I have to drop them off at the airport, but the evening is good for me."
I raise a brow. "Is-" my hoarse voice breaks a little on the word. "Is this weird?"
Perhaps beneath the shadows, I had been slipping away piece by piece for a while now, painlessly dying. The only person I had left was Jordan, and Andrei certainly wasn't returning my calls anytime soon. I want to be fine, want to be okay, but I know I am not. Not truly.
I don't know if I'll ever be.
Alex reaches a hand out hesitantly, and when I draw back, he puts it back down and rests it against his hip. "No, I don't think so." He states, voice gentle. "And I don't have a shitty ulterior motive, by the way. Pretty faces like yours don't need to have tears running down them at eight in the morning, yeah?"
Something inside of me pauses. "I wasn't crying," I remark sharply. My chest feels heavy, too tight.
"Okay," He drawls, not taken back in the slightest at my defensive attitude. A pause, followed by a charming smile, and time spiral into a sealed capsule as a dimple forms on the right side of his face. "Sounds like I don't have anything to worry about then."
I open my mouth to respond, but his phone beeps again, and he grimaces. "I have to go, but I'm really fucking serious." He bites his bottom lip again and a piece of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, the perfect picture of bashfulness and charm. "Text me."
And as Alex Lane walks away, his tall figure getting smaller by the second, I pressed a hand to my heart and plead for it to stop beating so fast.